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// I Watch the Waves Break on the Shore 
// Story: Her Eyes Reflect The Stars 
// by Lynwood 
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I watch the waves break on the shore of the island. The waves froth and spit white foam, their water tinted by the sand it disturbs. Past them is a stretching coastline, pale and shining in the midday sun. It borders the obscene, the downright incredible: a bulging, shivering mass of blinding-bright green rising from the ocean in defiance, thrusting itself into the sky where land does not belong. Even at its steepest, life clings to the side of its rocky slopes.

I've seen the island before, and it strikes the same boggling feeling into my heart now as it did then. I imagine what it must be like to have so much space to walk around, but at the same time, to be anchored in place forever. What must it be like to live so far down? 

In the past, things were different. The island was nothing but a strange, unknowable, dangerous place that little colts were only allowed to stare at from afar, wondering what kind of beasts lurked beneath the gently-swaying treetops. Wondering what kind of ponies could live in such a place. Perhaps they weren't ponies at all, after living in such a strange land for so long. I imagined them with claws and fangs, stalking the shadows, hunting for prey instead of simply fishing. When I had asked my uncle, he'd laughed in my face.

Not today. Today I will fly.

We are gathered at the edge of the house's cloud. My mother stands near me. A little ways away, Uncle has the sack on his back, laden with a fresh catch of deep-sea fish. Braves the Cold Waters and Rides the Cool Winds stand at his side. The former meets my nervous stare and grins.

"Shiny, you had better stay close! We wouldn't want you to get scooped up by a stranger, would we?" 

I stick my tongue out at her. She laughs. 

Mother nudges me with her elbow. "Are you ready?" My throat is too dry to speak, so I simply swallow and nod. She smiles. "Don't listen to your cousins. The islanders are always very friendly."  Then she places a hoof on my shoulder. "It can be dangerous, yes, but you keep your wits about you and you'll be just fine."

I offer up my bravest smile. It doesn't feel very brave.

Uncle shouts for us to leave and we take flight. The sea air is a special type of exhilarating. My heart begins to pound in my chest as the wind whips over my cropped mane, growing quicker with every wing beat. I feel nervous and excited at the same time.

I study the landscape below as we cross over the island; there's a small lake at the base of the mountain. I wonder if I'm allowed to visit it. I've always wanted to take a bath in real freshwater. A cluster of wooden buildings also comes into view, huddled together near the far shore. As we get closer, I realize that a lot of the buildings dwarf our cloudhouse! It makes sense. With all this space, there's no need to build small! I bet their houses don't even try to drift apart.

Uncle begins to dip, beginning the glide down, and we all follow him. He's making for the shore near the village, where colorful, toy-like ponies are beginning to gather. We're down in a moment, and before I know it, I'm beating my wings and slowing into a landing. 

My hooves touch down on the sand. It feels even more incredible than I imagined.