The Unicorn and the Stranger

by PhycoKrusk

Crossroad

After several minutes of walking, Rarity had taken herself far down the beach, her hoof steps tracing an even path through the sand where the waves had not come in far enough to wash them away. Unlike her walk through Portside to the shore, however, her head was not held high; she was alone, and there was no need for her to keep up appearances. Instead, her head was lowered somewhat, and she did little more than watch the sand in front of her as she walked.

It was all the more frustrating because there was no reason for her to feel as listless as she did. No one she knew had died, she was not being evicted and was not grossly in debt, and really, nothing was all that bad; it was just a bit of dry weather, as it were. She did not even have looming deadlines to make! Yet here she was, walking forlornly down the beach as if the world had ended.

It was to a bit of quiet relief when she happened to glance further ashore, away from the water, and her head lifted up when she realized just how many trees were growing along the shoreline, back several dozen hoof-widths where the soil must have been firmer. They were not quite as large or tightly packed as she was used to seeing in either the Everfree or Whitetail Woods, and many looked to be of a variety of conifer, or least their leaves were smaller and more slender than the oaks and maples she’d grown up with.

What really caught her attention, however, was the house that sat just in front of the not-quite-a-copse and not-quite-a-forest of trees.

There was nothing terribly remarkable about the house: Wood construction, although that was not a surprise — given the relative abundance of trees along the shoreline — lifted roughly a hoof-width above the ground on several short, blocky stilts, a covered porch made of evenly spaced wooden planks, a door with a knob, and two windows looking out towards the water. It was not very big, with only a single level and gently sloping roof; the perfect size for some solitary pony or other hermit to live by themselves. Against the exterior of one wall was a small stockpile of lamp oil, she noticed.

The sound of splashing drew her attention away from the house — the bungalow, she decided — and to the ocean, where a pony was walking back onto shore ostensibly after swimming, pausing only long enough to shake the worst of the water from their coat like an enormous dog.

Much like the house, there was nothing terribly remarkable about the pony: An earth pony with the curves and shape of a stallion, with a coat the color of the cherry wood floors in her parents’ home and a mane and tail — both cut short, but not adventurously so — that was like maple wood left in the sun to lighten. His mark, she observed, looked like a tree branch, devoid of leaves, being pushed along by a gentle ocean wave.

“Oh!” Rarity quickly turned away from the stallion and faced back towards the small house she assumed was his. “I’m so terribly, terribly sorry! I didn’t realize you were naked!”

“Well, that’s a silly thing to be sorry for!” the stallion replied. “I’m usually naked, and if we’re stating facts here, you’re naked, too.”

“I am not swimming,” Rarity protested, an embarrassed blush spreading across her cheeks.

The stallion barked with laughter just once. “No, you aren’t, and I think I’m finished for the day in any case,” he said, voice drawing closer until, when he spoke again, he was to Rarity’s side. “So, with that in mind, do you think you might be able to look at me? It would certainly make a conversation easier to hold.”

Rarity hesitated for a moment, and then after carefully guarding her emotions, turned to regard the stallion, who at least had the courtesy to stand several hoofs away from her. His eyes, she could now see, were viridian with just a bit more green than she would have otherwise expected, and by reflex, she noted his now complete palette.

“Better,” he said, smiling warmly and calmly. “Now, what is it that’s got you so twisted up inside?”

The shock written across Rarity’s face must have been evident, because as soon as he’d asked the question, the stallion changed his expression from friendly to perplexed. “What, exactly, gives you the idea that there’s something which has me ’twisted up’ as you said?” she asked, trying to deflect his attention. “I was just out for a walk, that’s all. I didn’t even know there was anypony that lived out here.”

As if a switch had been flicked, the smile came back. “Out-of-towner, then?” the stallion asked, receiving a nod in reply. “Then let’s start this correctly. I’m Driftwood, and usually when somepony wanders out this way, it’s because they’re at a crossroad in their life and they aren’t sure what they should do. It’s a pleasure.” He took a step forward and offered his hoof.

Rarity regard the hoof for a moment, and then took a step forward herself and wrapped her own around it to shake. Driftwood’s own shake was firm, but not overpowering in the way that she was accustomed to; it was a nice change. “I’m Rarity,” she said with a smile of her own, even if it felt a bit more forced than she would have preferred. “And I don’t think I’m at a crossroad at all.”

“Of course,” Driftwood replied, a bit more knowingly than Rarity really cared for. “All the same, here you are at my bungalow just as High Summer’s really getting started. Come inside for a bit. I’ll get cleaned up, and then we’ll have some tea and exchange small talk, at least until the sun goes down a bit and the trip back to town won’t be so unbearably hot.”

“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” Rarity said, although she had indeed noticed the rising temperature.

Driftwood rebuffed her objection immediately: “Nonsense! It’s not as if you came by in the middle of the night. Besides, out-of-towners only drop by occasionally, and a newspaper will only tell you so much about the rest of Equestria. Indulge my curiosity?”

“Well, I suppose there’d be no harm,” Rarity conceded, looking away for a moment to think. “Oh, very well, if you insist.”

“Excellent!”

With a happy spring, Driftwood turned and walked on to his bungalow, Rarity falling into step behind and to his left.

Comments

[nightwalker]

Nice to see new material from you. So far a good setting, though you are missing the sounds and smells of the surf. Sounds especially. Even on the great lakes around where I live it's some always there

[Anzel]

I really enjoyed the premise. Keep up the good work!

[tsaukpaetra]

A hermit that welcomes strangers? Very curious...