“Any mail for me today?”
“Hmm… name?” The mailmare scanned her heavy sack of letters with her misaligned eyes.
“Candle?”
“Hmm… oh! This must be for you!” The mailmare lifted a battered letter from her satchel - then paused, blinking twice as she looked at the pony.
The other ponies gave Candle a few feet of space, but Candle was used to that. He wasn’t like other ponies clustered around the mailpony, because he was a bat pony. No, not a crime fighting millionaire orphan vigilante like in the popular comic series BATHORSE; that was just fiction! Bat ponies were descendants of the elite guardians and attendants of Princess Luna, or so the lore went. Some claimed that bat ponies were born from her dreams, others claimed she breathed on normal bats and they transformed into ponies to protect her in her hour of need, but whatever it was, bat ponies had been among Princess Luna’s retinue for many centuries - until she was banished, of course.
The whole ‘banishment’ thing made being a bat pony very awkward, indeed, and so many ponies had simply assumed they went extinct, or vanished with their princess. Thus, it was a big surprise when bat ponies began slowly reintegrating themselves back into society a few years after Princess Luna’s reappearance. They had spent years living outside of society, hiding in caves and forests where they could be safe from equine judgment. Some even took up residence in high mountaintops, growing thick coats to protect from the cold.
But they lived in a new world now! The Guardians of Harmony had worked with many different species now - hippogriff, griffon, dragon, yak, even seapony! - and the time was right for bat ponies to make their reemergence. Still, Candle couldn’t totally blame them for being nervous, even if he was just there to pick up his letter.
“Thank you!” Candle smiled, and reached out for the letter, giving the mailmare a warm nod before he turned to trot away. The ponies parted for him, which he appreciated, since he couldn’t fly over them for - well, important reasons.
“Have a nice day!” The mailmare called after him.
Candle was grateful when he felt the darkness of the Everfree Forest shade him once more; he wasn’t quite used to walking around in the daylight yet, but it was getting easier. Once he was safely inside the forest, he all but skipped to his favorite reading spot, and settled into the curve of the lowest branch to eagerly shred the envelope.
“Dear Candle,
Your last letter was quite intriguing,
Our time apart is quickly fleeting!
I hope this letter finds you in time,
To miss your voyage would be no small crime.
Today it has been very hot,
But soon it will be very not!
The rainy season will be here soon,
Before the rising of the next full moon.”
Candle eagerly skimmed over the next several pages, then went back and read more slowly. Writing in the zebra language of rhyming had been difficult, at first; but Zecora had been an invaluable ally, helping him to craft the very first letter to the zebra herd living across the sea. Candle could write passably now, but he was much better at reading.
That was Candle’s job, after all; ambassador to the zebra species! Well, the bat pony ambassador, anyway. And it wasn’t really an official job, at least to any of the ponies in Canterlot, he was sure. But then, bat ponies had considered themselves outside of the Canterlot purview for several centuries, what with the whole banishment thing.
The zebra ambassadorship had been Candle’s idea in the first place; it had primarily come out of a desire to leave the forest, if he was going to be honest. Candle had been very lucky to be born when he did, because right as he had come into adulthood, Princess Luna had returned to her place on Canterlot’s throne, and bat ponies were no longer a banished species. It was hard to imagine what his life might have been like if he’d been born even twenty years earlier!
No, the bat ponies didn’t need an ambassador, per se; but if bat ponies were to return to pony society, they would need to begin making overtures to other herds, and what better herd to meet than the zebras? Zecora had been an ally for many years, and they had helped one another. Zecora, after all, had been viewed with the same suspicion and distrust that a bat pony would be, until very recently.
And uncoincidentally to Candle’s reasoning was the fact that the Eastern Desert was about as far as you could get from Equestria.
Candle read the letter over again, then carefully folded it back up and replaced it in the envelope. His pen pal was a zebra living on the Eastern Desert continent, and his name was Zeffir. Zeffir had sent a photo, just as Candle had; he was a zebra stallion, around his own age, with a coat that reminded Candle of the dawn. His coat was a pale pink, edged with blue down his legs and throat, with white stripes and muzzle. He had the typical Zebra mane, all short and stiff, with alternating stripes in white and pale blue. His eyes were also blue, but so dark; if his coat was the dawn, then his eyes were the night sky.
He was young, Candle thought; but then, so was he. He had assumed that his letter as ambassador would be given to some kind of zebra bureaucrat, but instead he carried on a correspondence with somepony who turned out to be a town guard. Not that he complained; behind the heavy and clunky format of the rhyming zebra language, Zeffir had been warm, friendly, eager to get to know him and his homeland. Candle sent tokens from Equestria; pictures of the city, pictures of him, pictures of his herd. He sent coins from Ponyville and pressed plants from the Everfree Forest, and Zeffir sent the same back. He suggested that he taste them, and Candle had a sneezing fit after tasting the first bite of the peppery grass that Zeffir sent. Zeffir sent photos of a town that Candle was surprised to realize was much like his own; it was a small village, with houses and shops a short walk away. Perhaps larger than Candle’s own, since the bat pony settlement had been isolated for so many decades. Their letters were wrapped in the clunky rhyming scheme, but beneath it, Candle had found a kindred spirit.
Not that Candle didn’t have any here; he was just desperate to sail thousands of miles away because he was so very content.
“Candle!”
Candle startled sharply at the voice.
“Hey! Another letter from your striped friend?”
Candle relaxed, and offered a wave with the hoof that still held the letter. “Yeah - he says the rainy season is coming soon. It looks like I’ll make it just in time to see it.”
Candle’s father chuckled, and approached his branch with an easy flutter of wings, alighting next to him silently. Candle looked like his mother and father, of course, because bat ponies adhered to the same basic genetic structure that every other pony did; they didn’t reproduce by biting innocent townsfolk, as certain libelous storybooks insisted. Candle had inherited his grandmother’s pale coat, the gray of a storm cloud just before it faded away, and his mother’s pale lavender mane. His eyes were a bright green, like his father’s, although his mother insisted they had been yellow for many years as a baby, which came from her side of the family. His father was a very dark-toned pony, all around, and his mane was such a dark blue as to be almost black, which made his Kelley-green slitted eyes all the more dazzling.
“Rainy season, huh? Is that going to be safe, you think? I mean, I know we get rain here, but it seems like a whole season of it could be dangerous.” Flicker chuckled, to try and make his worrying sound more like friendly banter instead of fatherly concern.
“Well, that will be important to research, right?” Candle replied, and ignored the twinge of anxiety in the pit of his belly. “I’m sure they have ways of dealing with the rain. Zeffir didn’t sound worried.”
“Maybe he couldn’t think of a rhyme for ‘flash flood.’”
“Dad!”
“Oh, I’m joking, I’m joking!” Flicker laughed, and gave his son a little pat on his shoulder. “C’mon, your mother will be getting up soon, and she wanted to have a special farewell breakfast for you. Or - dinner, I guess?”
“Yeah, it’s dinner for the ponies now.” Candle smiled, and felt a little tug of regret somewhere in his chest. Bat ponies typically had opposite hours to the average Equestrian citizen, both due to their nocturnal nature and to avoid accidental interaction with other ponies. In order to interact with the zebras, Candle had begun shifting his hours, so that he could share their waking hours during his visit. Candle thought it was sweet that his parents were trying to be inclusive.
“We better get going, before she sends both of us to the Eastern Desert!” Flicker joked, and took to the air with a flutter of his leathery bat-wings - then landed a few feet away, looking back to Candle.
Candle had slid off of the branch, with less grace, and trotted to catch up behind him.
“Is it going to be a problem, you think? Not, uh,” Flicker cleared his throat, “not flying?”
“Zebras can’t fly, so I’m sure they won’t have any problems with it.” Candle’s wings folded so tightly to his back that they trembled, and he did his best to keep his voice even. It wasn’t a topic that came easily to them; Candle couldn’t remember the last actual conversation that they’d had about it, only the whispered ones he’d overheard between his parents when he was supposed to be asleep. His initial reaction was irritation, but he knew that was just the fear talking; he didn’t want to spend his last meal with his parents arguing.
“Oh, that’s a good point.” Flicker agreed readily, grateful to shift away from that topic. “Well, I’m sure they’re going to be very impressed by you, kiddo.”
Candle relaxed, and he offered his dad a sidelong glance. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime. So, what do you think about that new addition they’re building three doors down?”
Candle couldn’t hide his grin; typical Dad. “I’m sure you have more opinions than I do.”
“Of course I do! I highly doubt it’s going to be up to code, those beams don’t look nearly thick enough! Now if they’d asked ME…”
[***]
Dinner went smoothly enough; for all that they fretted about him in private, Candle’s parents kept their concern largely to themselves during their last night together, which Candle appreciated. They made his favorite meal - roasted umbersquash with pasta - and laughed about all of the oddities that Candle might face on his journey. Diurnal ponies were very odd creatures, and it was hard to imagine what diurnal ponies from an entirely different continent might be like, even with Zeffir’s letters to help.
“It’s only for a few months, tops.” Candle said for probably the fiftieth time as he speared one last piece of fruit from their dessert.
“Just don’t come back with stripes, okay?” His mother sighed, and Flicker laughed so hard he inhaled a piece of pineapple, and his mother had to beat between his shoulders to dislodge it.
As the rest of the bat colony began to wake up around them, Candle prepared for bed, and gave his luggage one last check. He’d have to be able to carry all of it, but he was considerably stronger walking than flying. It was customary to bring gifts to his host herd, he was certain, so he’d brought lots of local flavor to share.
His mother knocked lightly on his door frame, leaning there to watch him. “So it’s really happening.”
Candle looked up. “Yeah, Mom.”
“It’s not too late to cancel.”
“I know. I want to go.” Candle replied, and sat on his bag, trying to zipper it. His mother crossed to his side, and sat beside him until it was flat. “Thanks.”
“I know you do.” His mother sighed, and reached out to touch Candle’s hoof. “You’re very brave. But it’s not cowardice to change your mind, you know.”
Candle tensed, but tried to hide his reaction. It felt like she was talking about more than just the trip. “I know, Mom.”
“I just want you to be happy. And safe.” She offered him a little smile, sensing that she was treading a little too close to something, and reached back to pull out a little packet. “This is for your trip. It’s a medical kit.”
“I’m sure they’ll have medical supplies in their village, Mom.” Candle sighed.
“I know. But I want you to have some, too. You can never be too prepared.” Candle’s mother was Lamplight, the town healer; she would have been called a doctor, if their secluded village had anything close to a medical board. It made sense that her final gift was something like this, Candle supposed.
“Okay. I’ll try to find a spot for it.” Candle agreed with a little chuckle, and the next few minutes were spent moving around clothing and gifts to make enough space.
“You’re going to be fine.” Lamplight said at last, when the quiet had stretched out peacefully between the pair. “With your trip, and -” she cut herself off, and nodded to Candle’s shoulders, his folded wings.
Candle stiffened.
“You’re fully healed by now. You just have to get used to it again. If you want to practice before you go -”
“I’m fine.” Candle cut her off a little suddenly, and tried to disguise it by hefting his bags into place, moving them a few feet over as to be closer to his bedroom door. “I should get as much sleep as I can; it’s a long voyage to the Eastern Desert, and I hear it’s hard to sleep on a ship.”
Lamplight nodded, recognizing her defeat, and rose to her hooves. “Of course. You need your rest. We will wake you up just before first light.”
“Thank you, Mom.” Candle paused, trying to release the line of tension between his shoulders. “And - thank you for everything else, too. I appreciate your help. A lot.”
“Of course, honey.” Lamplight crossed the short space between them to give him a tight hug, as if she might be able to hold onto him tightly enough to keep him from leaving. “I just worry about you.”
“I know you do, Mom. It’ll be okay. It’s just one trip.” Candle reassured her, and bit back the thought, What could go wrong?
Candle wasn’t quite that foolish.