//------------------------------//
// 1 - The Lake 
// Story: Homemade Kites and Whatnot 
// by getmeouttahere 
//------------------------------//

	The wind rolls across the lake’s surface, causing small waves to softly lap at the pilings of the little dock. Though the weather’s been warmer than one would expect for early spring, this breeze is unexpectedly chilly, forcing you to stop for a moment to shiver beneath your jacket and wonder if it’ll really be enough to keep you warm when you get out there. Kneeling down near the dock’s edge to dip a few fingers in the lake, you find your fears are justified. The water is still very cold, and it appears as though the wind will be carrying that cold to you throughout the morning. It almost makes you have second thoughts about all of this, but a sudden realization that the cold water could also be to your advantage causes you to push those doubts away. A happy memory takes their place, holding within it a reminder of why you’re really out here this morning, and your mood brightens.

In higher spirits, you shrug off the cold and head back toward the lake’s shore with a confident stride, hopping off the wooden walkway once you reach dry land. A tarp has been laid out on the shore nearby, securely held in place throughout the windy winter by the large stones set upon its corners. You remove them and set them aside, then pull the tarp away, revealing a familiar wooden boat beneath. A careful inspection of the frame for signs of rot reveals none, so it seems that the tarp did its job. Both the oars and lines are also still safely tucked away right where you left them, which means there’s only one thing left to check.

“Well… let’s see if she still floats.”

With a heave, you push the boat into the water and use the bow line to guide it to the dock’s edge, tying it to the pilings so it won’t drift away. You’ll need to give it time to see if it’ll show any signs of taking on water, so you decide to use the opportunity to admire your surroundings while you wait.

The view from Ponyville Lake’s eastern dock today is familiar, yet captivating as always. The sun is rising behind your back, causing shimmering sparkles of sunlight to dance upon the tiny waves stirred by the chilly wind. The wispy clouds above hold no threat of rain, though they do add an impressive splash of color to the sky as it transitions from the deep shades of night to a brighter, more familiar blue.

You shift your gaze to your own shadow, cast long across the water by the rising sun, and for a moment you’re struck once again with the thought of how odd you must look to them— a strange, bipedal creature, standing so tall, yet practically hairless. No fangs, no claws… you let an amused chuckle slip as you hold out your hand, fanning your fingers and watching your faded shadow move to match. Yeah, you must seem so out of place here, yet they accepted you all the same. To this day, it never ceases to amaze you.

“Well howdy there, stranger!”

A familiar, playful voice rings out above the breeze and another, much smaller shadow appears beside your own on the water. You quickly turn to greet the new arrival, your smile growing wider.

“AJ.”

The little orange pony stands framed by the sunrise, and you have to squint your eyes a bit while they adjust to the light. Instead of her trademark hat, she sports a simple scarf to stave off the cool morning air, along with a worn-out set of saddlebags. She smiles back at you, emerald eyes shining with the dawn.

“What’s with the funny face, Anon? Are ya really that surprised ta see me here?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer as she moves to stand beside you at the dock’s edge. “You told me you were gonna be busy, so it is a little surprising. Did something happen?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, nothin’s changed. I’m just bein’ selfish, is all.”

Her straightforward, honest answer leaves nothing else to be said, so you simply nod back to her before moving away to place your gear in the boat. She wordlessly watches as you work, her unbound mane and tail fluttering in the breeze, until all the preparations are done.

You hop into the boat and take your seat, checking once again for any sign of leaks. Satisfied that everything looks good, you turn back to the pony waiting at the dock and give her a thumbs up. She chuckles at the gesture, then moves to untie the boat from the dock’s pilings before hopping in and taking her own seat while you ready the oars.

With all passengers on board and accounted for, you row to the center of the lake, carefully stowing the oars away and casting the small anchor off the bow once you reach your destination. Another chilly breeze rushes by as you guide the anchor to the bottom to make sure that it’s secure. It causes you to shiver a little and confirms your fear that it really is colder out on the water. For a moment, your doubts from earlier return, only to be quickly quieted again by a gentle reminder that you’re no longer alone.

As soon as she notices your discomfort, the little pony carefully rises from her seat and gestures for you to scoot over. She takes a seat alongside you after you move, leaning in close against your side, and after several minutes her warmth has helped to drive the cold away. You smile and pat her shoulder as a gesture of thanks, then move to prepare for what comes next. She does the same, digging into her saddlebags for the things she’ll need.

And then, with practiced finesse, two fishing lines sail through the air in tandem, breaking the calm silence for only a moment as they hit the water.

In your grasp is a sturdy fishing pole, its reel specially adapted for use by creature with dexterous claws or hands like your own. Her hooves are empty, a fishing line securely attached to her golden tail which lies draped across be boat’s side as she lounges against you, eyes closed and a peaceful smile upon her muzzle. You close your own eyes and relax your grip on the pole, enjoying the comfortable warmth of having her nearby on this third day of your first spring in Equestria.

Not even a year has passed since you were torn from your home and brought here through some inexplicable twist of fate. During those first few months, you kept a journal, obsessively counting the days since you arrived and recording your thoughts with the desperation of some unfortunate castaway stranded on a deserted island. The behavior made sense, after all, since you quickly discovered that you were trapped here with no way to return. You truly were stranded, and you truly were alone, even despite the attempts of a certain pink pony to convince you otherwise.

But then things changed, and you eventually stopped counting the days gone by. The purpose of your journal changed, too, in that it was no longer filled with thoughts lamenting your circumstances, but instead became a sort of memoir filled with tales of your old life. It’s actually starting to become quite full, as the long winter nights provided ample idle time to write them down. Maybe you’ll even get them published one day, as you’re certain that the town’s little nerdy librarian would enjoy them in an anthropological context, if nothing else.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the orange mare suddenly sighs and leans further into your side, prompting an amused chuckle from you that she decides to let slide. Believe it or not, this very pony was the one responsible for the sudden shift in your thinking. Even though Pinkie would surely puff her cheeks out at you in annoyance were you to say it, Applejack was undoubtedly the first true friend you made, or maybe more truthfully, the first friend you allowed yourself to make since being brought here.

In fact, it all started with a conversation the two of you had on this very boat. It ended up changing your outlook on the situation entirely because you found a kindred spirit in her. The two of you went fishing together many more times after that day, sometimes sharing stories, sometimes in happy silence, before winter’s encroaching chill turned the lake into an ice skating rink for the fillies and colts of Ponyville.

Since then, it’s become easier for you to come out of your shell and interact more with the local ponies. The differences between you have seemed to become less important, as stark and glaring as they are. But even so, you still enjoy your time with Applejack best, despite the fact that you’ve rarely gotten to see each other between all her responsibilities to her family farm, as well as all the running around she does with her friends, supposedly saving the world and whatnot.

At times, you wondered what it was that drew her to come fishing with you so often given her normally busy and exciting daily life. You’re not one for much conversation, and it’s not like she would actually eat the fish she caught, though she happily let you have them. But as the months drifted by, and through the little discussions you did have with one another, the answer eventually became clear:

It was the peace and quiet.

Out here on the lake, and around you, she doesn’t have to work hard and nothing is expected of her. There are no precocious little sisters to look after, no crazy friends’ schemes to try to rein in, no rodeos to win, no farm to maintain… heck, when the leaves are on the trees, it’s even hard to tell that Ponyville is just over the next hill.

And that’s why her answer to your question this morning was so simple, so succinct, and so true, at least in her own eyes. You disagree, but there’s no point in saying anything. It’s a conversation you’ve had before, and you’ve found that she’s quite a stubborn pony who won’t be easily swayed when her mind is made up. Yet you firmly believe that everyone needs to take the time to unwind, workaholic or not, and if these little fishing trips are the excuse she needs to do so, you’re happy to help, even if the taste of fish isn’t anywhere near as appealing as it used to be.

It’s for that reason that you were only mildly surprised that she accepted your invitation to come fishing this morning after declining earlier. Maybe on some level she realizes she needs this too, even if she can’t readily admit it to herself.

Several uneventful hours pass, and Applejack lets out another sigh that you feel through your shared contact. You can already tell that her mind is drifting to the farm and her responsibilities there, so it won’t be long until she speaks up and suggests that the two of you head back to shore. You know from experience that once those types of thoughts begin to take hold, the battle’s already over for her. To make matters worse, neither one of you has even had a single bite all morning, and a disturbance on the water’s surface as a fish rises to eat some piece of floating debris while completely ignoring your lines only adds insult to injury.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were mockin’ us,” Applejack grumbles.

You chuckle and start reeling in your line. “Yeah, maybe they are. I suppose we should call it a day, huh?”

“I suppose so,” she agrees, pulling her own line from the water with a flick of her tail.

Applejack returns to her seat after you’ve packed your gear, pulled up the anchor and retrieved the boat’s oars, giving you the space you’ll need to move your arms freely.

“They can mock us all they want, though,” you say. “I’ve got a secret weapon in the works for next time.”

The pony’s ears perk up and a hint of a smile appears. “Oh? A secret weapon, huh? Is this finally gonna be some’a that fancy ‘human ingenuity’ I keep hearin’ about?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

And with that, you guide the boat back to the dock, secure it to the pilings and start the process of unloading your gear. Applejack lingers nearby while you work, wearing a peaceful expression as she looks out across the lake. You can’t resist the urge to place a hand on her unusually hatless head to ruffle her mane once you’re ready to leave, which earns you something between a grunt and a giggle in addition to a playful swat from her tail.

“Y’know, one of the reasons I thought today might be a good day for fishing was because the water was so cold,” you tell her as you start down the dock. “I figured it might keep Pinkie from trying any of her usual pranks.”

Applejack chuckles. “Is that so? Well, I don’t think you’ll have much ta worry about when it comes ta Pinkie Pie for a right good while, Anon. She’ll have her hooves full with some other stuff real soon.”

“Really? I’ll look forward to the reprieve, then.”

The two of you continue along, side by side, until you reach the fork in the road where you usually part ways. Applejack turns to look up at you once more, though the kind smile she usually wears when you say goodbye is strangely absent.

“There’s some family business I have ta take care of, so I don’t think I’ll be able ta go fishin’ with ya for the time bein’, Anon. Still, thank ya kindly for invitin’ me today. I’m glad I came.”

You kneel down in front of her so that the two of you are eye to eye, offering her a hand.

“Any time, AJ. I hope it goes well. If you need anything, be sure to let me know, alright?”

She places a hoof in your palm, and the two of you shake, the unexpected strength behind her motions rattling you around a little like always.

“It’s a promise, sugarcube.”

The two of you part, and she turns and makes her way down the path toward the Acres. You watch her for a while, considering the events of the day, before eventually turning away to head back to your own modest home on the outskirts of town.