Her Eyes Reflect The Stars

by Lynwood


I Live Over the Great Ocean

I live over the Great Ocean with my family, and I like to watch the shapes beneath the waves.

I peek over the edge of the cloud at the waters far below. They churn and grumble, spitting yellowed foam up into the air where the crests meet and disagree. If I unfocus my eyes I can sometimes make out the forms beyond the surface.

"Young colt, come here!" I blink and sigh, my attention broken, and push myself up from the edge. As I do, Braves the Cold Waters flies past me, over the fat white lip of the cloud.

"You'd better do what she says, Shines," she teases, her fishing line in hoof, "you're in for it this time."

I stick my tongue out but follow her advice, turning and going to meet my mother on the front stoop. She bites the inside of her cheek the way she does when she is only frustrated, not angry, so I know I have dodged the worst of her wrath. "Shiny, what have I told you about your daydreaming?"

I sigh and roll my eyes, making sure that she sees. "You've said that I need to finish my chores before lazing around."

Her mouth thins into a crease. "And did you finish helping your uncle with the fishhooks?"

"...No," I mumble, my ears dropping, "but it's so boring, and he never says I do it right!"

She stares with a hard eye for a moment, then sighs. Her gaze becomes softer and she sits down. "I know, sweetie," she says, "but we're a family. We have to work together, and you're still growing." She holds my cheek in her warm hoof, just the slightest bit damp from the cloud. "After you're finished helping your uncle, you can be done with chores for the day."

I groan. "Fine."

It's a short walk around our house to the back, where my uncle is fiddling with the hooks. He raises his head when I round the cloudy corner and his bushy brow furrows. "I was wondering when you would find the time in your busy schedule."

I snort, but I don't reply. He jerks his chin, motioning me over. I sit next to him and reach out, holding one of the hooks still on the special rock while my uncle uses the old pliers to correct the hook's bend. Every so often he frowns and tells me to hold it differently as if I can find some sort of magical way to pinch a tiny bit of wire between my hooves any better. Once he's finally satisfied, he grunts and sets it with the others and gets a new one from the bag.

He doesn't ask me to hold the next hook. He lets it sit on his hoof instead, holding it up to his eye before snorting. "Damn it, this one's broke."

I tilt my head. "It looks fine to me."

"That's because you're not looking close enough, as usual." He frowns and holds it out to me. "See? It's too thin at the middle. Third this week. We'll have to go to the island to restock soon."

The island! We go there so rarely, and I always have to stay at the house. "Can I come this time?"

"Only colts who do their chores can come, so focus on helping me first."

He tosses the hook over the cloud's edge, and as I watch it fall, I catch the barest glimpse of something beneath the churning waves far below before its elongated form disappears into the deep.