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// 3. From the correspondence of L. Heartstrings and O. Melody; mailed spring 1377. 
// Story: Silver Eyes and Rainy Skies 
// by Roadie 
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	From the correspondence of L. Heartstrings and O. Melody; mailed spring 1377.

Octy,

How's things? Haven't heard from you in a while. Don't worry—I know you're all busy with the Gala coming up. Knowing you, you probably petitioned the Princesses for a time machine and now you're spending twenty-six hours a day rehearsing. Don't overwork yourself too much!

If you need any time to relax, the offer to come and crash here for a weekend is still open. I know you like to be all fancy, but spending a couple of nights away from work isn't going to hurt. You could really stand to meet Vinyl—shush! Shush shush shush! No badmouthing wubs. Oh, you didn't say it, but I know you were thinking it. But, you should really meet her. She's seriously pretty cool. And if there's anything at all that can make you relax a trip to the Ponyville spa would do it.

By the way, the absolute strangest thing happened to me today that's happened in, I guess, weeks. Is it weeks? I'm not sure. Ponyville's been pretty strange lately. Anyway, this blank-flanked colt just came up to me when I was heading to the market and he asked me what I thought of "hands". When I asked him what he was talking about, he seemed kind of sad and he told me that he'd mistaken me for someone else. Later I looked up what "hands" are, and they're those grabby claws like minotaurs have.

I guess they're kind of neat, but why would anyone even ask that? I've been kind of thinking about it all day. Is there some kind of secret society I'm missing out on, with a secret "hand"-shake?

I guess that's enough weirdness from me. Don't you even dare kill yourself practicing until you pay me back for that hundred bits you owe me.

Your most very excellentest friend except for any other more excellent ones you didn't tell me about,
Lyra