//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7 — The Islands 
// Story: Pom's Chapter — A Novelization of a Story That Doesn't Yet Exist 
// by AIPomgeon 
//------------------------------//

Pom passes by a street market, eager to get to the ship, not stopping to talk to the peddlers. She rushes down an alleyway, marches down a busy street with dogs in tow, down a second alley, and arrives at another street market. The vendors there, a bit more aggressive than the first batch, call out to Pom, but she just walks past. She was told one thing about the islands back as a wee lamb: 'Don't buy anything unless yer willing tae throw away yer salt.'
Pom heads down another alley, onto an even more crowded street. Feeling out of her element, she quickly slips into another alley to get away from the mass. Exiting the alley she finds herself in, frustratingly, another market. Does every market on this island look the same?
"Girl! C'mere, lamb!" a old, tan goat shouts from a fruit pile.
"Sorry, I'm... busy!" Pom says, desperate to avoid a haggle that she'd, well, probably fall for. When the coot stands up, Pom, spooked and disoriented, runs across the market, finding an alley to slip into.  Herding her dogs across Pom enters yet another street.
"Och!" Pom shouts, pushing against the crowd—or rather Mama and Papa clearing a path in front of her, a stream of merchants and sailors pushed aside. "Sorry. Sorry!" Pom whispers repeatedly, until she finds the escape she's been looking for: an alleyway.
Pom catches her breath inside, checks to make sure the smaller pups are all accounted, then walks through the alley—
"Ewe!"
Pom jolts back, confronted by the same goat who chased her down. Raising his hooves in bewilderment he shouts, "You've been running around the market for ages! You got a brain problems?"



Och.
Ochhh, I am a sheep. Through and through. Top to bottom.
The entirety of Pom's journey has been simple. Not easy, at least not for her, but simple enough for Sheeple. Following a well-traveled path, especially without any destination in mind, is something that can be done without much brainpower. Same can be said for running aimlessly, hoping to find something and brute-forcing the pathfinding. It's simpler still to run for one's life, the sole destination being 'away from that thing before it ends me.'
The Sheeple are bad with directions, and Pom is more sheepish than most. The fog lifted from her eyes, Pom can see, from where she stands, the figure-eight path she's rambled down. Two streets, four alleys, and this single market.
The entire square stares at her, bleeding red in the face as her fear shifts into embarrassment. Pom sinks into the fluff of her dogs—to be pulled by the hoof into the open. Light talk can be heard from peddlers and beggars on all sides as Pom is made the center of attention. "Come on girl, what's the rush?" the old goat prods.
"Sorry! I'm just, well... lost."
The crowd's chatter grows louder, commerce stopping as vendors and customers alike look on with smiles.
"Where you headed?"
"I need to find the Lander... no, what was it called? The Lanced Grader. Can you take me to the Lanced Grader?"
"Haven't heard of it." the old goat says.
"I got a tip!" a cross-eyed ram shouts from the crowd.
"Ye do?" Pom beams, cutting into the crowd.
"Yeah. Five licks."
"Wha?"
A few voices in the crowd try, but fail, to suppress their laughter.
"Think of it like a tip, for your tip."
"Well, for this I guess it's worth it."
Pom cuts back through the crowd, opening one of Papa's saddlebags and gathering five licks of salt. She scurries to her helper, balancing on two legs so she can hold the salt in her hooves, and holds it out. The goat nods, looking at it for a second as if to gather it's real—then scoops it into his mouth, leaving behind a trace of spit. Pom recoils in disgust, trying to wipe it off her wool as the goat samples the taste.
"Mmm, this is good. Alright, the boat you're looking for..."
The crowd leans in.
"...is on the island."
The crowd erupts into laughter. Pom stands there for a moment, the only ungulate to not get it—and then she does. She turns redder than before, ashamed that she'd been tricked.
"Oh, don't look like that, pretty thing you." A rotund gray goat says from the crowd. "Hey, I have a much better tip!"
"Really?" Pom doubts.
"Aye... five licks."
The crowd, having calmed down a bit, struggles to contain themselves. Pom thinks it over, hesitating.
"Don't worry, he's actually good for it." the first conman says, still chuckling to himself. Taking a deep breath, Pom relents, procuring five more salt from the bag and giving it to the portly goat. He stifles the friend next to him, nearly going into a fit, then looks Pom in the eye.
"Good, good. Your ship..." 
The goat's buddy has to hold both hooves against his mouth to keep silent.
"...is in the water!"
Even harder than before, the square turns into a cacophony of cackling. The fat one's friend falls to his side, fainting from the burst of merriment, only to continue howling in laughter moments later. Pom backs away slowly, but finds her exit route cut off by a one-eyed, toothless beggar. "If you're giving out salt I'll help you!"
"Don't listen to Billy, he's full of it." scoffs the trickster who put Pom in this situation to begin with. Pom looks in all directions for a way out, surrounded and prodded, physically and verbally, by a horde of hecklers. When they fail to get any further reaction from the overloaded lamb, one pushes her from behind, knocking her headfirst into a female goat adorned with an aqua green bandana.
"Watch it!" she shouts, prying Pom off her. Pom begins to apologize, only to get yanked by the tail. The crowd tightens around Pom, not leaving enough room to stand.
"Please let me go..." Pom asks too soft to be heard. The only noise that can cut above the cheers and jeers is Pom's dogs, growling and trying their hardest to get to her without having to bite someone.
"Speak up, woman!"
"Asking for another tip? Ten licks!"
A hoof starts poking Pom in the side, accompanied by a taunt of "Get up kid, you're gonna miss your voyage!"
Pom tucks her head under her legs, trapping her emotions inside, waiting for the mob to get bored and disperse... but they don't, only finding it funnier. The entire ordeal is too much for the little lamb to bear.
So she doesn't.
"GET OFF O' ME!"



A wide arc clears in front of Pom, the crowd pushed away by Pom's bark. Unable to stop her shaking Pom turns to her left; "YOU TOO!"
The crowd to her right doesn't need to be told, giving the lamb a wide berth, as do those behind her. Immediately Big Mama takes charge, towering over Pom and snarling at any onlookers who might dare to go back in, pups close behind.
"No need to be like that, was nothing but a good time." says the cross-eyed instigator, fazed neither by the outburst nor the threats of violence from Mama.
"Why do ye have tae be so mean?! I, I want my salt back!" Pom chokes back tears as she points at the goat.
In response the goat shuts his eyes, sticks his salt-covered tongue out, then retracts it. "Caveat emptor, little lady. Consider it a lesson."
"That's not fair!"
"So you've learned! Now then, I have a stand to watch over."
The goat leaves as the rest of the crowd goes back to their business, leaving Pom humiliated and comforted only by her dogs.
Then, another voice joins in. "I'm sorry to have seen that. Always ask for their end of the bargain first, darling."



Upon turning around Pom is greeted face-to-face by an extravagantly dressed sprite, a thick coat and matching hat draping their body, eyes obscured by sunglasses. "ᚳᚢᛗᚩᚾ!" he gestures, motioning with his entire arm toward a partially set up stand. Behind the stand Pom can only see the fluffy white tail of a doe, hanging various posh items of clothing on racks.
Big Papa sticks like glue to Pom as she approaches, wary of letting his escortee get separated again. A glare from the doe's eyewear blinds Pom momentarily as she faces the stand, adjusting a long green scarf and introducing herself with a rhythm that must have been rehearsed many time. "Welcome to Cap 'n' Cash, where Cap and Cashmere sell caps for cash. I am, of course, Cashmere. It sounds as though you're lost?"
Averting her gaze Pom sidesteps the question. "It's just a bit of trouble, no need tae worry."
Smiling warmly the doe assures, "I'm far too charitable to charge you, my lovely lamb. Anything you'd like to ask, feel free, no need to be nervous." Cap quickly wipes Pom's eyes with a red fabric, prompting a quiet scolding from the deer: "not that one, use something cheaper."
The lovely lamb nods along, but without thinking leans against Papa's side anyway, bracing for the rug to be pulled under her. Thinking for a moment to find the words, Pom says, "I need tae find a boat, the... Great Land Racer? Och, I wish I wrote it down."
"No need to be down on oneself, dear," says the deer. "I wouldn't know the location of any particular ship, but the two largest ports are at the north—" pointing to the left, "—and south exits." She points to the right. "Clothing is my forte but on long excursions like this I carry a few survival supplies, never knowing who may need them."
With a light whistle from Cashmere the sprite rummages through several suitcases, producing a small object. Pom looks it over, unable to glean its purpose, and asks "what's this?"
"A simple compass. No matter what direction you point it, this small needle will face north."
"Ye can do that?" Pom asks, bewildered. Grasping it in her hooves like an ancient artifact Pom quickly spins around, finding Cash's claims to be true. It's a magic solution for a sheep's bad directions! No more having to turn a map seven times to figure out where you are! Maybe that last part isn't quite true. But wow!
"How much?!" Pom shouts, eagerly slamming it on the counter.
"I'm so glad I could help you!" Cashmere offers an inviting smile before ducking under the counter—hiding the grisly grin and greedy gaze she couldn't contain any longer. "Normally I would sell these for about a hundred salt, but in your time of need I'll part with it for fifty."
"Fifty?"
Pom checks the salt in Papa's saddlebags. She wasn't given a lot from the Sheeple, maybe a bit over one hundred. And she's already parted with ten today...
"I can see your hesitation, and that's alright." Cashmere reassures, popping above the counter with the same inviting tone and look. "Given what happened with those peddlers, how about I recoup your loss? I'll sell it for forty licks, and you can forget all about that bad time."
"Ye'd really do that for me?"
"Just for you."
Pom herds Papa to the stand and counts out forty salt. She spins the compass around one last time, still surprised such magic is real, and then pushes the salt forward. "I cannae tell ye how grateful I am, really!"
"It's entirely my pleasure, darling." Cashmere says, pushing the compass forward and gathering the salt. As she lowers it into the till, Cashmere calls for Cap, whispering "Order two hundred compasses for our next trip to Baaah."
"ᛋᛟᚱᛟᚢᛋ?"
"Dead serious, two hundred. This is an untapped market, and these things are so cheap that we'd be fools not to jump in."
Cap and Cash look up to see Pom and company about to leave, Pom staring intently at the new device balanced on her nose. With a quick gesture from Cashmere, Cap pulls her back in, flying above and dropping the red fabric over her head. Pom jolts around in confusion, before seeing Cap and returning to the stand.
"This hood is a bit tear-stained, thank you Cap, but it's still good as new! As wonderful as it was to assist you just now, fashion is our real strong suit, and I feel this would look perfect on you! Because of the used nature I'll sell it for only two hundred and fifty salt, rather than three hundred."
"Huh? I think I ha'e one of these at home."
"You should have brought it on your tour, you'd be the talk of the town then! But still, we have plenty of other items: bonnets, beanies, berets? Or perhaps," Cashmere says, gently flicking Pom's bell, "you're more the neckwear type? I can relate. We've got plenty of necklaces, maybe even a scarf? Deer love scarves."
"I've already a collar..."
"You're practically naked! Trust me, anyone from Reine will tell you fashion comes first—"
The conversation is cut short by Papa's growl; Pom finds Cap peering into her dog's bags, mimicking a horizontal cut across his neck. Cashmere nods at the motion and returns to setting up her stand. "Well I shouldn't keep you from your destination, enjoy your compass. When your full coat comes in I also buy wool, much better to get it from the source, free shearing! Don't be a stranger!"
After Pom heads north, a bit confused by the whole exchange, the doe pines to her sprite. "Shame she was traveling so light, I know I would've talked her into more if she had the salt."



"The Landracegeder!"
Written in wide letters on the side of a ship is the name Pom has ran around in circles for. With a spring in her step Pom trots to some goats loading cargo onto it, asking "Is this the Landracegeder?"
A coal-black goat looks up at Pom, then at the boat. "If it's not I'm probably about to be in trouble with the law. What business do you have with my ship?"
"Yer headed tae Huoshan, aren't ye?"
"We are. What of it?"
"I actually made it!" Pom shouts to herself, running up the steps—only to be pulled backward by one of the workers.
With an annoyed glance the captain steps away from her cargo and bluntly states, "This isn't a passenger ship."
"But, Tianhuo said ye were taking her to Huoshan."
"We do have an arrangement to do that, but unless you can start breathing fire you're not Tianhuo."
"Sorry, ye dinnae understand. I'm goin' tae Huoshan for her."
"We weren't told anything about this."
"It was, uh, last minute."
"So last minute we didn't hear of it. You trying to get a free ride?"
"What? No!"
"Then scram. We have a deal with the longma military, which you aren't a part of."
"But, b-but," Pom stammers. An argument fails to come, and Pom begins dancing in place as she stutters and mumbles half-sentences. The captain looks on with annoyance, waiting for Pom to get off the walkway so the cargo can be loaded. Before she takes Pom down herself, another goat whispers in her ear. There's a small exchange between them, and two grins flash simultaneously.
"Alright lamb, for twenty salt we'll take you there. I don't believe your story, but it's not like people are interested in going to the volcano very often."
With a sigh of relief Pom rushes back to the captain, shaking her hoof. "Och, it's been such a bad day, I thank ye so much." Pom nearly melts as today's stress evaporates. She pulls the letter from her collar,



WHEREISTHELETTER
"You alright, kid?" the captain says, waving a hoof in Pom's face.
"Deadly!" Pom assures, feeling one side of her collar, then the next. WHEREISIT "I-I think I need tae walk tae the central square for a minute, can ye wait?"
The black goat points at a stone sundial adorned with sixteen notches. Tapping the closest notch to the shadow she states "We leave here. If you aren't on the boat when we leave you will be left behind."
"Oh, I'll be back in just a wee bit." Pom smiles, trotting away with a similar spring in her step until she turns the corner.
The Landracegeder out of sight, Pom bursts into a full sprint. Unprepared for such a panic, the dogs take a moment to register their owner taking off and chase after her, knocking over anyone who failed to give her a berth.



"Letter!"
"Back already? I didn't think you'd—"
"Ye took my letter! Where is it?! I gotta deliver it!"
Pom towers atop a fruit stand, screaming at the very same cross-eyed goat who had taken her salt.
"I took five salt. I like the hustle but I'm not a thief."
Ignoring his answer, Pom checks under his stand, behind it, under the fruit. She even forces the goat's mouth wide open; she can still see the salt taken from her, but no traces of paper.
Pom violently rings her bell and her dogs, not needing a word, split up, checking every inch of the square for Tianhuo's scent. Pom wastes no time as this happens, weaving around the square in case the letter was hidden in plain sight. Minutes pass without a trace, and Pom's adrenaline begins to fade, realizing she's done nothing but inconvenience a large group of people just making a living. A mass of wide-pupiled eyes stare at her, none of the amusement.
"I'm sorry... but I... I need..."
Ruff howls at the top of his lungs, a trace found. Gasping, Pom neglects her  apology and scrambles after him. Ruff runs down several streets and avenues, taking Pom to... the Landracegeder.
"No Ruff, we need the letter." Pom chides, but Ruff barks in disagreement, tugging at her leg.
Pom is unable to read his motive, until the black captain shouts from the ship, "About time! You nearly missed it!"



Pom sputters as the passage of time catches up to her, running to the ship, dogs in tow. When Tuft, slowest of the pack, leaps onto the deck anchor is immediately raised, taking Pom away from the cruel, blunt island. As the Goatani isle disappears from view the captain reminds, "Twenty salt."
"Och, of course." Pom slides her payment from her saddlebag into the captain's sack. "Ye didnae tell me yer name."
"Captain Estrela," says Captain Estrela. "You, and more importantly your dogs, will stay in the cargo hold until we arrive."
Pom winces, having just spent a handful of hours in a different cargo hold, but nods, thankful that her journey is nearly done. Entering the cabin a handful of goats are toasting the voyage. "Hey!" Estrela shouts. "You still have work to do! You can rest when it's done!" The sailors quickly disband, some running downstairs and others back to the deck.
"Navigator, chart the course." Estrela instructs one remaining goat sitting behind a table.
"Already have!" he salutes. "The sheep?"
"Last minute passenger."
"Best watch yourself, lamb. Else the sharks'll get you!"
Pom perks up, asking with a tinge of fear, "There are sharks here? Wouldn't they have been sealed with the predators?"
"If they were sealed they did a bad job. I'd know!"
The goat steps over the table, revealing two long pegs where his hind legs should be. Pom jolts to the lower hold with an "eek!" to the goat's delight.



Beneath the deck, Ruff is as restless as before boarding, trying to get behind a stack of boxes. "Bad puppy." scolds Pom, lightly shoving Ruff away, but his attention remains on the boxes.
"If he opens anything you're paying for it, one way or another." warns a sailor as he finishes moving the last of the cargo, leaving Pom and the dogs alone.
Scooping Ruff up into her legs Pom nuzzles against him, saying "what's into ye? It's just me, the lads, and a few sailors. I know we lost the letter but, we'll figure it out, we just need tae tell 'em about the Hold. Everything's fine for once."
Ruff's incessant barking only intensifies, and Pom puts him down. "Nothing wrong here, boy."
"Wrong!"



Pom's mouth is covered by some cloth, two hooves around her neck. Every dog gets in position to strike, waiting for a signal. A female voice from behind instructs, "Don't scream or you'll face mi cutlass."
"?!" muffles Pom.
"I follow ya all day and there's nothing in that letter of yours but some lines on paper. Where's your booty?"
"?!!!" Pom tries to turn around at mention of Tianhuo's letter, but is forced to face front.
"Tell me, sheep!"
"!!"
The cloth is removed from Pom's mouth. "Ye stole my letter?!" Pom immediately asks. The assailant's chipped, jagged hoof pushes against Pom's back in response.
"Mi deh ask the questions here! Now no sudden moves, you."
Pom is turned around, meeting the threatening red-eyed glare of a brown goat. She picks up the cloth, tying it around her scalp.
It's an aqua bandana.
"You—you were at the square!"
"Good memory, for a sheep. Now tell me what this is supposed to say!"
The goat shoves the contents of the envelope in front of Pom. Figuring the goat is just illiterate, Pom begins to read it—but she can't. Rather than the usual runes used by sheep, deer, goats and more, these symbols are entirely alien; complex in their design and written with extreme precision. Every line and curve looks perfect; if it weren't for a few tiny imperfections Pom might assume the letter was printed rather than the product of mouth-writing. Near the bottom the perfect strokes give way to jagged, hasty strikes, probably something Tianhuo wrote as an addendum when Pom asked to go in her place.
Immediately giving up on trying to decipher it, Pom says "it's longma writing. It's... a lot of military stuff."
"Bah. Whatcha really hiding then?" demands the goat.
"Huh?"
"Some clueless sheep with a bunch of escorts coming to the island from a cruise ship, talkin' with a fancy clothing store, handin' out salt like it's free. I know you're rich, gimme di loot! How much salt are you carrying? Any jewelry?"
"Jewelry? Ye've the wrong idea—"
The goat yanks Pom's collar forward. "How much's that bell worth?"
"I dinnae know?"
Stepping over Pom the goat focuses at the dogs instead. "Nuh si bai dogs around here. They expensive?" She looks down at Woof, lifts him on her back and says, "he seems easy to carry... I'll take him."
"Hold on, hold on, ye cannae do that!"
"Who'll stop me? Cyann tell a pirate what to do!" the goat laughs, until the puppy nips her on the tail. She spins around at the sudden attack, then lowers herself onto her haunches, sliding him off. "Maybe I'll find a more behaved dog actually."
"Who even are ye?" Pom demands, getting Woof away from the scoundrel.
"You don't know me? Just the greatest pirate-to-be, Shanty!"
"This is a pirate ship?!"
Shanty scoffs. "Dem nuh kno mi yah. I'm stowin' away like you!"
"I'm not a stowaway!"
"Hm. That case, don't tell 'em I'm here, 'kay?"
"Hang on, ye just—ye just—"



Pom waves her hooves, stopping everything. "You just stole from me! And ye want me tae give ye a pass?"
"Not like you had anything valuable." Shanty rolls her eyes.
"Not my point!"
"Ay, I need to get something from ya if I wanna call this a successful plunder. Your silence fits the bill, ay?"
"...ye'll give my letter back and leave me alone?"
"Pirate's honor!"
"...okay."
"Spiffy. So where wi a go?"
"We? I'm going tae Huoshan."
"The volcano?"
"Aye."
"Aye! Bet there's lots of stuff to steal there, ancient longma treasures."
"Don't get any ideas, I'm not helping you with that!"
"Course. You'd get in my way."
With a bit of reservation, Pom says, "'S not right tae steal, Shanty."
Shanty glares momentarily, before a switch is flipped in her head. Rather than get mad, Shanty flips onto a box, gesturing to Pom but mainly to herself. "It's my fate! I'll find the greatest treasure of all and prove myself. No one will stop me!" With a sparkle in her eye she then inquires, "Ya gwine stop me?"
"Nae, definitely not! The last thing I want is tae fight."
"So just stay out of my way."



The pirate-to-be stretches her legs, then lies down on some straw—straw Pom intended to sleep on. Pom instead looks out the window of the ship, clutching the letter and hoping everything goes smoothly from this point on.
Faintly in the distance, Pom sees a glowing purple fin. With a light, awkward chuckle she says to herself, "Oh, that's... probably nothing..."