//------------------------------// // 29. Hot Springs // Story: Love, Sugar, and Sails // by DSNesmith //------------------------------// Rye’s head jerked up, his eyes blinking in the fresh air. That was a close one, he thought. Can’t nod off on top of a shark. Meri and Vina were keeping close to the surface, skimming it from below. It wasn’t slowing them down much, and it gave Rye and Tyria the chance to breathe real, fresh air instead of sucking it from those vile airstars, which were now stowed in one of his innumerable pockets. It made keeping hold of his mount easier as well, something he was even more grateful for than the air. If he fell off of Vina, Rye still wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t turn around and eat him. He yawned, splashing some of the rushing water into his face. Even the looming threat of death by shark couldn’t alleviate the boredom of sea travel. They’d left the reef and the islands it surrounded behind hours ago. They would encounter it again, Rye was sure, once they neared the next bend of the archipelago, but to save time they were cutting northwest across a stretch of open ocean. Shivering as the wind blew against his wet robes, Rye looked ahead to see how Tyria was doing. She was still clinging to Meri’s back, rocking up and down with the seapony’s undulating tail. Tyria’s gaze was turned eastward, squinting in the morning sunlight. Rye couldn’t see any of the archipelago’s islands on the horizon, but perhaps an artist’s keen eye could pick one of them out. Or maybe she was simply as bored as he was. Rye scratched an ear, yawning again. The only sign of hours passing was the slow ascent of the sun. It was beating down on them from high above when Tyria perked up, shaking Meri. “Land!” she yelled back to Rye. Rye peered ahead through the hot, bright light. He could see it: a miniscule brown dot on the horizon that was growing rapidly larger. In front of him, Meri pulled her head out of the water and craned it over her back. “We’ll stop here for a few minutes to eat,” she called over the rushing water. They reached the tiny spit of land only a few minutes after spotting it. It was a disappointing mound of sand, barely large enough to qualify as an island. A trio of rather pathetic palm trees was the island’s only occupant. Vina and Meri circled the island once before moving in to let Tyria and Rye off. The ground felt strange under his hooves, a once-familiar sensation that he’d been deprived of for days. The ponies sat down in the inadequate shade of the palms, aching from the long journey. Rye rolled his right shoulder to get the stiffness out, wondering how exhausted Meri had to be by now. The seapony lay on the shore, her tail still drooped into the water and her head propped up on one hoof. She rolled the cylindrical basket of seaweed toward them. “I’ll take a piece, if you don’t mind.” While Rye hung his robes up on the shortest tree to air out a bit, Tyria passed around blades of seaweed for each of them to munch on. Food in hoof, they all sat in a small circle at the sandy edge of the island. Rye took a bite of the unappetizing, salty plant, trying not to grimace. “Do you need to rest, Meri?” he asked. “You haven’t slept since the night before last.” Meri swallowed a bite of seaweed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hoof. Rye couldn’t help but notice the deep shadows underneath them. “No,” she said wearily. “I’ve gone longer than this without sleep before. I can make it to Riverfall Island before nightfall. I’ll sleep there.” “If you’re sure.” Rye took another bite of seaweed, frowning with concern. Tyria gave a hacking cough. “Riverfall Island?” “I don’t know if surfacers have another name for it,” said Meri, rolling onto her back and stretching her hooves. “It’s bigger than this. It has a little river that runs over a cliff on the edge of a small bay. It’s fresh water, which is why we’re headed there.” Rye ran a hoof across his salty, cracked lips. “Good. I haven’t had a drink in…” He stared down glumly at his seaweed. “Well, too long.” Tyria nodded silent agreement. She cracked her neck. “Do you think Keron is following us?” Meri let her hooves fall to the sand, spread-eagled. “I doubt it. My father will push to send a group to help us—he wanted to go with you to Zyre in the first place. But Keron’s in charge, and father will do as he says.” Her voice turned sour. “After that cowardly little display in the meeting hall, I don’t think my uncle is willing to send anyone out of the city.” “And anyway,” said Rye, shoving his half-eaten seaweed strand back into the basket. “If they did go looking for us, they’d head east to Zyre, not northwest to Zendruga.” “What about the Phoenix Current?” asked Tyria. She noticed Rye’s puzzled expression and said, “Oh, right, you didn’t see all those regional maps on the Nightingale. It’s that current Keron mentioned blocking our path to Zyre. Quite big, and it follows the entire archipelago.” “We’ll be going around it completely,” said Meri. “Another current going the opposite way on the other side of the islands can carry you from Zendruga all the way to Zyre in half the time, if you’re a fast swimmer. We’d be taking it right now if we didn’t have to stop for water and sleep.” They finished their meal as they sat in tired silence. Rye watched Vina’s dorsal fin slice through the water, circling the island as she waited for her master’s call to resume their travels. As the wind ruffled his hair, his thoughts began turning back to issues he hadn’t had a chance to think about since the shipwreck. “What’s on your mind?” asked Tyria. “Hm?” “You always get that suffused look when you’re thinking about politics,” she said, smiling crookedly. “A bit for your thoughts?” “Breyr,” he answered distantly. “Oh.” Tyria’s smile vanished. “Thinking about what happened on the island?” she asked quietly. “No.” Rye frowned. “About this plan of his to take Zyre. It doesn’t make sense.” “He’s completely insane. Or have you forgotten that giggling laugh of his already?” “Insane, maybe, but stupid?” Rye looked up at a wispy cloud, flicking his ears. “He has, what, a few hundred zebras at his command? Fifteen ships, maybe twenty?” “One less now, though,” said Tyria with a tired grin. Her weak attempt at humor managed to draw a faint smile from him. “Even if he had three times that many, Zyre’s defended by dozens and dozens of naval vessels, staffed by thousands of well-trained zebras. He just doesn’t have the numbers.” “Ever heard that the simplest solution is usually the correct one? I still think he’s just crazy.” He shook his head. “If it was anyone else, I’d believe it. But Breyr’s a shifty little snake. He’s got something up his sleeve, I’m sure of it, or he wouldn’t even be attempting this.” “What trick could he have to even those odds? Even gallons of Elyrium aren’t going to make much of a difference against zebras.” Rye steepled his hooves in contemplation. “No, but if he had help from someone…” “Who would be stupid enough to make an enemy of Zyre?” “If they thought they could get away with it? The better question is who wouldn’t want Zyre to be their puppet state.” Tyria chuckled. “Marquis Zahira has made that many friends across the world, has she?” “Aye, she’s a difficult mare, but that’s irrelevant, really. It’s the sugar monopoly that is downright irresistible.” Rye scratched a mark in the sand. “There’s the Antellucíans, who would love to have the funding for another war with the Elktic Commonwealth. Those two nations have been butting horns over those islands in the northern Ceracen for decades.” He grimaced and scratched another line. “The Saddle Arabians recently entered a new textile boom, big enough for some of the royal economists back in Canterlot to take notice. If they took over the Golden Isles, they’d own the entire global trade system south of the equator. That’s a pretty hefty prize.” He scratched a third line. “Then there’s the Gryphans. The war was only a few years ago. King Aelianus only agreed to peace because his entire army was lost in Canterlot and the westlands. Their navy is small, but mostly intact. If they could capture the sugar trade and start channeling that money back into their military, they might be able to regain their old status as a major world power, something they’ve wanted for centuries.” A fourth line joined the others. “The last culprit I can think of would be the Dromedarians. That’s an unstable situation already. They have a gilded upper crust of elites with an increasingly rowdy and unhappy peasant underclass. I was there a few months ago, and there were riots going on outside the royal palace before the Pharaoh ordered the guards to break them up. A good war is an effective way to distract an unhappy populace, provided you win. But they could just as easily collapse inward to revolution.” Rye shrugged. “It could be any of them, or hell, even all of them.” “What about us?” asked Tyria, idly chewing the last bit of her seaweed. “Princess Celestia could certainly use more money for the war reconstruction efforts. That new palace couldn’t have been cheap.” Rye choked, spluttering. “Sisters, I hope not. I wouldn’t put it past, say, Emmet Blueblood, but the princess wouldn’t approve of that sort of underhanded military action.” “Well, she did send you here to talk our navy’s way into Zyran waters.” “I—yes, well… hmm…” Rye sank into the sand, disquieted. “I grant you it’s not impossible. And the Marquis will certainly be thinking along those lines if we don’t get back in time to explain the situation.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But my money’s on someone else.” Meri, who had been quietly listening with interest, shook her head. “You surfacers have the queerest customs. Why can’t you all just get along?” “Well, if we did that, I’d be out of a job,” said Rye, with a small chuckle. “Really, Meri, I don’t think we’re that different. It’s just a matter of scale. If Keron ruled ten thousand sea ponies he’d have the same problems we do.” “My uncle doesn’t rule anyone,” said Meri, rolling upright and folding her legs beneath her chin. “We listen to him because we respect him and he’s been around for a long time. He doesn’t have a crown or any of that nonsense you surfacers love so much.” “Interesting.” Rye raised an eyebrow. “What if someone else wanted to be in charge?” “Well, if they were convincing enough, the rest of us might decide to follow them instead.” Meri glanced down at the sand, uncomfortable. “I don’t think it would get violent, though.” “And how convincing can you be?” asked Rye, mildly. “What?” Meri blinked, shocked. “I’ve never wanted that. Keron does a good job.” “Does he?” Rye dusted sand from his hooves. Tyria gave him a confused look. He could almost hear her asking What are you up to? “Meri, the world is filling up fast. There aren’t many blank spots left on the maps. Your people are going to be dealing with surfacers like us more and more in the coming years. It might not be a bad idea to be led by someone willing to work with them and promote your peoples’ interests, rather than hide from the world in that reef.” “I…” Meri looked quite distraught at the thought. “I mean, Keron isn’t… He’s still my uncle.” “Just something to think about.” Rye stood, shaking out his legs. “I think it’s time we got moving again. If you’re sure you don’t want that nap.” Meri slowly pushed herself back into the water. “No, I’m good to go. Let me get Vina back here.” She vanished into the sea. Tyria frowned. “What was that all about?” “Planting a seed,” said Rye blandly. “Never hurts to cultivate useful diplomatic contacts.” “It sounded more like you were suggesting a coup,” she said disapprovingly. “Not a coup.” Rye pulled down his robes and began to slip into them. “A vote! She was describing a republic. It’s this quaint little political system the Antellucíans cooked up. They’re very proud of it. ‘Rule by the people’, their ambassador loves saying.” Most Equestrians, having lived under a single ruler for thousands of years, found that concept a little baffling, and Tyria was no exception. “If everyone’s in charge, how do they get anything done?” Rye shrugged cheerfully. “Not a clue. It’s mad, if you ask me.” He clasped his robes together. “At any rate, the seaponies’ government—or lack thereof—sounds similar enough, the way Meri describes them. They choose their leader. And frankly, I think Meri would make a better one than Keron would.” Tyria smiled with bemusement. “I could listen to you talk politics for hours.” “It’s fun!” Rye grinned. “I wouldn’t do this for a living if it weren’t.” “Still, are you sure it’s wise to—” They were interrupted by Meri’s return. The seapony’s head popped up from the waves off the shore of the tiny island. “Vina’s ready to go. You’d better hold on tight, Rye; she was snacking on a school of fish while we took lunch, so she’s full of energy.” “Oh, good,” said Rye, paling. “Wouldn’t want her feeling peckish.” He heard Tyria snicker behind him. The three of them all swam out into the water. Rye was getting the hang of it, though his splashing strokes were still ungainly compared to Tyria’s skilled precision. Meri brought over Vina, who Rye mounted with great trepidation. A few minutes to situate themselves and they were off again. As the minutes passed, Rye’s thoughts flitted from one thing to another. He mused on nebulous possibilities regarding Breyr, wondered how Wheatie was making out without him back in Zyre, groaned internally at the massive report he was going to have to write if he made it out of this mess alive… He smiled as he watched Tyria idly trail a hoof behind her in the water, glancing after the wake. After weeks of rough travel and hard living, she was still beautiful, but she’d acquired a sharp edge of competence and confidence that had been missing when they’d first met. She turned her head and met his gaze with a wink. Rye gave her a dreamy wave, his political ruminations forgotten. I wonder if I’ll find anything to cook on this Riverfall Island. He wanted to make her something nice after all this running around and fighting. Maybe some wildflowers, or a nice soup of some sort. At the thought of food, his stomach gurgled, and his lips twisted dryly. He wasn’t going to be recommending seaweed as an ingredient to his father anytime soon. Rye stretched his forelegs and settled more comfortably onto Vina’s back, letting his thoughts get lost in Tyria’s mahogany mane. * * * It was late in the evening when they reached the island. The sun had nearly gone down past the horizon, staining the sky red and purple. Rye was sore and tired, and extremely ready for that promised drink of water. The island was an elongated crescent almost a mile long. Like many of the islands in the archipelago, it was an atoll that had grown up around a long-dormant underwater volcano. The fertile soil had created a verdant explosion of trees and ferns that covered the entire island, hiding the depths from view at sea level. The beach Meri had chosen for them was a small semicircle of sand and rock, opening out onto the western horizon. A rocky outcropping a few meters high protruded from the jungle, stretching out over the left side of the small bay, and a sprinkling waterfall trailed gracefully over the tip into the water below. Rye watched it as they approached, licking his lips. A pair of bright red macaws flew overhead, squawking, which jolted Tyria awake. Ahead on Meri’s back, she lifted her head, shaking it. “We there?” she mumbled. “Yes,” said Meri, her head barely above the water. “Riverfall Island. Time to…” She gave an extremely long yawn. “To rest.” Vina refused to enter the shallow bay, so Rye slid off her side into the water. The shark swam off, to his relief. With his loud, splashy paddling, Rye followed Meri and Tyria into the breakers to reach the shore. The two surface ponies found their hooves unsteadily in the shallows. Meri yawned again. “You can sleep on the island. I’ll stay here in the bay.” Rye couldn’t resist asking. “How do seaponies sleep without drowning, anyway?” “We breathe slowly,” she said, her eyelids drooping. Tyria coughed politely. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Good night, Meri.” Taking the hint, Rye nodded, and the two surfacers plodded out of the shallows to dry land. “Poor girl,” said Tyria, as they heard a loud snore come from behind them. “She looks exhausted.” “She’s been carrying a full-grown pony and twenty pounds of coins on her back for a day and a half,” said Rye, halfway between sympathetic and impressed. “Why don’t I take that bag tomorrow? Surely Vina can handle a heavier load than just me.” “Be my guest,” said Tyria, untying the drawstring from around her neck and tossing it to Rye. He caught it with his right foreleg. “Oof.” He hefted it over his back like a saddle. “Gods, how did you carry this thing around your neck all day?” “The bag traps some air. It’s not as heavy as it looks once it’s in the water.” They followed the beach underneath the rocky cliff to stand in the miniature waterfall. It was more of a spray than a stream, but it was still fresh water. Both ponies stood under the water, mouths open, wetting their parched lips. “It’s warm,” said Tyria, surprised. “Mm,” said Rye, letting the water spray on his face. “She didn’t say they were hot springs.” “I wonder how far up into the island this little brook goes.” Rye rubbed his hooves. “Sounds like an adventure.” “Not much of an adventure,” said Tyria with a laugh. “If we walk six hundred meters that way we’ll hit the other shore.” “I find that the best adventures are quality over quantity,” said Rye, trotting along the rocky outcropping toward the jungle. “You coming?” “Of course,” she said, matching his pace. “Who knows, maybe we’ll find some real food in here.” Stepping over rocks and pushing through the thick ferns, they made their way deeper into the jungle, following the sound of running water. Rye took a deep breath and sighed happily. “Oh, it’s good to smell fresh air again.” “And feel the sun,” said Tyria, brushing aside a thick palm frond. “You hear that?” “Mhm.” There was the distinct sound of a burbling little waterfall ahead. Rye was the first to break through the foliage to find the source. They stood before a little pool of bubbling water, fed by a short sheet of water rolling down from an overhead rocky protrusion. The stream they’d been following was an offshoot from the pool’s spillover, running down along the shallow riverbed toward the beach. “Looks deep enough to sit down in,” said Tyria, already unbuttoning her battered uniform. “Praise the Sisters, I think we’re about to have a bath.” Rye began disrobing. He strung his garments up on a supple palm branch. Behind, he heard an “Ahhhhh,” as Tyria sank into the pool. Turning to join her, he felt his face heat. He was suddenly aware that he had only seen her without that khaki shirt on once or twice. Sitting in that little pool bathing, she looked decidedly sensual. His cheeks were definitely red, now. Looking for a distraction, he cast his gaze upward at the canopy of palms. “Aha!” “Hm?” Tyria looked up, scrubbing her forelegs to rinse off the sea salt. He pointed up. “Coconuts!” Rye turned backwards and began kicking his legs against the palm in question. A trio of the hard fruits tumbled down. They were about the size of apples, perfect for drinking out of. Rye carried the coconuts over to the pool and slid down into the water beside her. It was shockingly hot, and incredibly soothing. A little groan escaped his lips as he sank deeper, feeling the sweat and seawater wash away. He spread his wings, letting the feathers soak. “Here, I’ll take one.” Tyria grabbed a coconut and swiftly bashed it against the edge of the pool, cracking the hard shell. She held it up to her mouth with both hooves, taking a long drink. “Mmm,” she said, smacking her lips and setting it down beside the pool. “That’s just as good as the ones they sell back in the market.” The water rippled as she cozied up beside him. Rye cracked his own coconut open and took a sip. “My mother loves coconuts. I confess I’ve never been quite as taken with them as she is.” Still, the liquid tasted heavenly on his parched tongue. He put a foreleg around Tyria’s shoulders, leaning his head back. “See, this is what I had in mind when I took an assignment to the tropics.” They sat for a while, nursing their coconuts and watching the sunset through the trees. Tyria glanced up at Rye’s drying robes. “It’s funny. When you take that goofy outfit off, you seem… smaller, somehow.” “Was that a height crack?” he asked dryly. “Oh, no!” Tyria stifled a laugh with her hoof. “Sorry, not what I meant. It’s just… that eye-searing yellow makes you seem a little larger than life, that’s all.” “Maybe that’s why they’re so bright,” mused Rye, draining the last drops from his coconut and letting it fall to the ground beside the pool. “Or maybe the royal tailor is color-blind,” muttered Tyria, snickering. Rye grinned. “You missed your calling as a fashion critic, I think.” “Hrm,” she said, noncommittally. “I’m not sure what my calling is.” Settling back against the edge of the pool, Rye twisted toward her. “Well, what would you like to be?” He draped his free hoof down into the water to hold her. “A novel question,” she said, nuzzling her head against his chest. “I’ve always been told what I was going to be.” “What if you weren’t?” Tyria pursed her lips, thinking. “I… truly don’t know.” Rye poked her flank. “There’s a paintbrush on there for a reason. Why not do art professionally?” She hummed. “Zanaya’s been saying the same thing for years. I’m not sure either of you realize how difficult it is to make a career out of that.” Her back straightened and she lifted her head to watch the sunset. “I love painting, more than anything I’ve ever done, but…” Her lips turned up in a melancholy smile. “My father might have pushed me into the academy for his own reasons, but he wasn’t wrong about it being a steadier job.” “I’m sure you could find work. Canterlot’s got a huge demand for skilled artisans right now,” he said, brushing her mane. “I know for a fact that Celestia wants the ceilings painted in the new castle. Huge murals of the war between the dragons and the gods. The dome in the throne room is going to have a celestial map of the whole sky as seen from her tower.” Tyria shook her head, smiling. “Even if Celestia was willing to take a chance on an unproven artist like myself—and honestly, I don’t think she should—that’s just one contract. A big one, sure, but once it was over, I’d have to take on lots of smaller contracts. Illustrating book reproductions, making up posters for public events, that sort of thing. It’s not regular, reliable work.” Rye’s shoulders fell a little. Clearly she’d given this more thought than he had. “Still… isn’t that better than being miserable at the embassy?” “Well, yes, but it’s not the only other thing I could do.” Tyria tilted her head. “Painting is a passion for me, yes, but I think I’ll enjoy it more if I’m not depending on it for my next meal.” “Well, you wouldn’t—” Rye clapped his mouth shut. Too early to talk about that, I think. “Wouldn’t…?” He shifted sheepishly, rocking the water. “I mean… if you had a partner helping out with finances…” Tyria’s eyes widened. She whispered a startled oh and—to Rye’s great relief—she smiled. “That sounds awfully serious, Rye. Been thinking about the future?” “A-a little,” he stammered, wanting to change the subject. “S-so, if not painting, what would you like to do?” “Well,” she said, sitting up in the bath with a sudden excited light in her eye, “this whole experience has reminded me how much I love ships. Dad used to take my siblings and I out on Lake Alazure all the time as foals. I used to think those fond memories were because Dad was spending so much time with us, but these last few weeks… working on the Nightingale, even under such duress, it’s made me realize how much I enjoy sailing. There’s just something… alive about feeling the wind in your mane, and the smell of the ocean spray.” “So, you’re thinking of staying in the navy?” asked Rye, a little anxiously. “No.” Tyria swiped a hoof in denial, accidentally slapping the water and splashing them both. Bursting into a laugh, Rye splashed her back. The conversation was momentarily forgotten as they engaged in aquatic combat. Tyria surrendered first. “Truce, truce! We’re spilling all the water,” she said, laughing. Rye held up his hooves, his face full of innocence. “You started it,” he said, shrugging. “Yes, yes.” Tyria flopped back into the water, cuddled up against him. “What was I saying?” “The navy.” “Right. The navy. My required service period is over in…” She blinked. “Goodness, not much longer, come to think of it. Once I can, though, I’m going to honorably resign my commission and get out.” “I think you’ll be happier,” said Rye, giving her a squeeze. “It’s a good life for some, but it’s just not for me.” She stretched her back. “I was thinking of looking at some commercial ships. Maybe an Equestrian merchant, one that will pass through Zyre often enough for me to see Zanaya and some other friends in the city.” “Oh,” said Rye, feeling a little downcast. “Something wrong?” “It’s just…” he braced himself. “If you join a merchant crew, you’ll be at sea all the time. I’ll never get to see you.” Reaching a hoof up, she nudged his chin. “Sorry. Just spitballing ideas.” “Well, don’t stop at that one,” he said. “I might see what old Batty is up to. Maybe he needs an apprentice.” Tyria draped her hooves around Rye’s neck, leaning over on him. “I’m not going to think too hard about it until we see if we live through the month.” “Fair enough,” said Rye, giving her a kiss. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. Even if it means leaving me behind.” He gave her a small smile. “It’s been so much fun watching you find yourself, I don’t want you to stop on my account.” “Oh, Rye…” she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the side of his horn. “That means more to me than you can know.” She leaned in and kissed him back. Her hoof slid down into the water. Rye felt it travel down his chest—he jerked upright. “Ah, Tyria, that’s…” “Shh.” Tyria smiled slyly. “You realize this is the first moment we’ve had alone in days?” Trying to relax, Rye slid back down into the water. “I had noticed, actually.” “Well, that explains those rosy cheeks.” She kissed him again. “You know, you never did tell me about that dream.” Rye exhaled. “This is better, anyway.” He pulled her closer, breathing in the ocean scent still lingering in her mane. With her free hoof, Tyria pulled his down into the water. She felt remarkably soft. Rye closed his eyes and let his other senses take over. Tyria let out a little gasp. “Rye.” “Tell me if I’m doing this right,” he whispered. “Mmm…” she closed her eyes, biting her lip. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” She rolled over, pressing her chest against his. “Let’s make up for lost time.” It was awkward at first, given his inexperience, but after a few moments of clumsy fumbling they managed to make it work. By the time the sunlight finally vanished beyond the horizon, both of them were flushed, giggling, and enjoying themselves greatly. A few pleasure-soaked minutes later, they disentangled from each other. While Rye regained his breath, Tyria cracked open the third coconut. “Want any?” “Sure.” Rye took a drink from the broken shell. “That was… well, I can see why it’s so popular.” He was grinning like an idiot. “But you haven’t—I mean, sorry, it was kind of qui—” “Hey, relax.” Tyria took a drink from the coconut. “You’re new at this. Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time. I’ll show you a few tricks.” She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him over on top of her. After a lengthier and far more satisfying—for both parties—interlude, they lounged beside each other in the hot spring. The moon had risen high above, nearly full, shining brightly enough to light up the entire island. Tyria gave a catlike purr. “Zanaya was right. Just what I needed. I feel much better.” “You know,” mused Rye, sipping from the coconut. “The height difference doesn’t matter as much as I thought it would.” “Not at all,” she agreed. She leaned into him, and Rye wrapped his leg and wing around her, pulling her close. He blinked sleepily. “Ought to make you breakfast t’morrow… but haven’t got a frying pan…” His eyes slid shut. Tyria rested her head on his. “Goodnight, love.” “L’ve you,” he managed, giving her a little rub with his hoof. That night, his dreams were entirely free of monsters.