Sharers' Day

by Carapace

2. For Our Favorite Changelings

Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers as she and Toola stepped onto the platform at Manehattan Station, her heart hammered in her chest. With a bright smile, she bounded a couple steps forward and bounced in place, laughing merrily.

“Golly! You’re starting to act like me, Doodle!” Toola Roola tittered before prancing over to bounce a circle around the eager pegasus. She stopped, leaning in close as a teasing smirk played upon her lips. “Or is somepony excited to find a little gift for a certain smug boyfriend of hers? Hmmm?”

Rather than blush and stammer or try to fumble through some excuse, Sure Stroke swished her tail. A few months ago, Toola would’ve had her redder than a ripe Red Gala. Today, however, she simply turned and returned her friend’s smirk. “Says the little gigglebox,” she drawled, “who came to me all tied in knots because she couldn’t find a present suitable for her favorite cheeky filly.”

Toola’s smile faltered, in its place, a sudden pressing together of her lips and a streak of rosy red across her snout, which she quickly turned away to hide. “Shut up,” she squeaked in reply.

“How very eloquent. And rude. Maybe we can have Esalen sort that out with a nice—” She stopped short when Toola fixed her with a heated glare that promised later retribution. Point to me, she thought with a flutter of her wings. “Hug.”

Before Toola could make another comment, Skydancer stepped onto the platform, smiling as she shook her head at the pair. “Behave, you two,” she scolded without a hint of heat in her tone. “Sure Stroke, you and I have plenty of shopping as it is, and Toola still needs to find her gift for Esalen. Standing around here teasing one another over a boyfriend and a crush isn’t going to help things along.”

The fillies ducked their heads, Sure Stroke felt the onset of a blush creep across her face. No matter how she might have grown used to her fellow villagers’ penchant for playing and constant teasing, her mother could always slip one comment through to render her a mess. Rustling her feathers, she and Toola mumbled their assent.

With a smile and happy fluff of sunny yellow feathers, Skydancer waved them on, guiding them through the throng of excited tourists, returning Manehatannites, station workers, and Royal Guards, out into the midmorning sun and bustling streets of Manehattan proper.

Sure Stroke turned to share a grin with Toola Roola. The fillies let out excited squeals, bounding forth through the streets with Skydancer in close pursuit, eager to find suitable gifts for their friends. Their friends, of course, deserved nothing less than the best. Gifts straight from the heart.

I wonder, she mused, if they can taste the love that goes into each gift.

Yet another question to be answered, perhaps one she could write into her book once she began working with Regale.

---

Gift finding had gone relatively smoothly, all things considered. Given the time they were working with, Sure Stroke felt she and her mother both had done a fair job of locating appropriately-thoughtful gifts for each of their friends.

Her ocean-blue eyes flitted to her mother’s saddlebags. She went through her mental list while the trio walked through Canter Square. She managed to find a set of rather nice dance horseshoes for Nimble, which would do wonders to protect her ankles from getting strained with all the spinning and jumping that went into her dances; for Vector, she decided on a nice set of training weights she’d seen some of the Wonderbolts use at her old summer camps; Zephyr was a bit trickier, as she didn’t know him quite as well as the others. He was friendly enough, but also somewhat standoffish. Still, a friend who deserved a good present. After some serious thought, and Toola Roola’s invaluable input, the trio journeyed to a small bookstore and found a book about the daring adventures of Penbrook Pines, an earth pony explorer, and his trusty diamond dog sidekick, Howler.

Not a series Sure Stroke had read before, but the salespony had sworn it was all the rage with the foals their age.

Once that was finished and Skydancer had procured gifts for Faith, Warm Welcome, and all of Cool Breeze and Queen Euphoria’s entourage, it was time to get down to the toughest nymphs to buy for: the terrible twins.

“I don’t understand for the life of me why you didn’t just find Aspire one of those Donnchad MacCulkin books while we were in the bookstore,” Toola commented as she skipped down the sidewalk alongside Sure Stroke. “The new release was there. He’d have just about jumped and kissed every inch of your face if you’d gone with that.”

Sure Stroke rolled her eyes, then cast a meaningful look at the bags her mother was carrying. “You mean the same book you went and bought for Esalen?”

Toola waggled her ears. “Yup!” she chirped, quite pleased with her selection. She glanced down at the bit pouch around her neck and gave it a quick shape, beaming at the telltale clinking of metal. “And I’ve still got enough to buy something to go along with it!”

That gave Sure Stroke pause. Truth be told, Toola had been positively giddy to see the book out. Why, if she’d known any better, she would have sworn her bouncy friend had been part bat pony with how loudly she squealed. Both pegasi had to pin their ears back to avoid a rather painful ringing. But for all that griping and huffing about not knowing what to get Esalen, Toola Roola had been rather quick to make her choice.

And now she wants another gift to go along with it? Curious, Sure Stroke tilted her head. “Do you not think the book will be enough?” she asked. A note of concern crept into her tone. “She does like the series as much as Aspire, doesn’t she?”

“Oh, pretty much all the foals our age adore it. Especially the Cold Queen.” Toola stopped skipping long enough to glance up at the skyscrapers, her lips pursed in thought as she seemed to struggle for the right wording. “Essy just … she adores the series, but not quite the level Aspire does. You know what I mean?”

Sure Stroke snorted. “Toola, if it weren’t for how he looked at me, I’d swear that colt would date his books if he could.”

Her mother nearly stumbled a step. “Sure Stroke!” she scolded through a fit of giggles. “Don’t say that about your boyfriend!”

“He just might!”

“Oh, I doubt that, honey.” Skydancer’s eyes shone with mirth. “From what Faith tells me, you’re like sunshine on a rainy day to him. At the very least—” she cast a wink at her daughter “—he might try to date you along with those books of his.”

Groaning, Sure Stroke covered her face with her wings. “Mooooom!” she whined.

“If you’re going to make a joke about his love for books, then you’d best be ready to deal with any teasing that comes with it.” Her mother swished her fiery orange and red tail, turning her gaze down the path ahead. “Where two next, girls? I don’t mean to rush, but it’s getting into the afternoon, and we all still need to eat. And be back at the station by six.”

Sure Stroke looked up at the great clock at the center of Canter Square, flicking a wing when she saw the time. Two-fifteen. Not too late, but definitely cutting things close if they wanted to eat and shop.

Letting out a low groan, the young pegasus turned to fix Toola with a worried look. “Do you have some idea of what else you’d like for Esalen?”

Her friend scuffed a hoof against the pavement. “I … sorta do?” Toola stammered. “I mean, I have the book and …” Her ears pinned, she ducked her head low and mumbled, “You said you were going to get her a book on massage techniques, right?”

“Yeah, there’s supposed to be a place in the area that has some stuff for massage therapy,” Sure Stroke replied with a nod. Turning to her mother, she asked, “If we take a break to eat now, do you think we’ll still have time to go there and then pick up my present for Aspire?”

Skydancer hummed. “We should,” she said slowly. “Depending on where it was you wanted to go.”

Beaming, Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers. “Well, I know a place nearby where we could eat. We can look out for the massage therapy place on the way.”

“True enough.” Her mother smiled. “Where do you propose we eat, then?”

Sure Stroke turned and waggled her ears at Toola. “How do you feel about that pizza place we all ate at when we went to Coneigh Island?”

Magenta ears perked up. “Cecci’s?” Toola squeaked.

“That’s the one.”

The broad grin that spread slowly across her friend’s pretty magenta face all but sealed the deal. Pizza it was.

Skydancer led the fillies across the street, keeping both under wing as was typical of pegasus mothers. They headed down Sixth Avenue, toward the direction of Cecci’s. As they approached a crowd of tourists gawking at the sights and snapping more pictures than a throng of reporters during a royal visit, Sure Stroke felt her mother’s embrace tighten, all but pressing her and Toola against her sides while they pushed through.

Once they escaped and managed to catch Toola before she was knocked out of Skydancer’s feathery embrace by a particularly obnoxious mare, they were able to move along at a relatively brisk trot and search the plethora of shops on the way to Cecci’s Pizzeria.

It was Toola Roola who spotted it first. She darted to the very edge of the sidewalk and bouncing in place. “There!” she cried, prancing in place as she pointed across the street. Her lips were curved into a wide, toothy grin. “Doodle, look! There’s a massage clinic and supply store, just like you said!”

True to her word, there, nestled in a little shopping strip between Meadow Song’s Flower Shop and Knick Knack’s Toy and Hobby Shop, was a little tiny store with a blue door and an almost homey feel. Rather than the traditional wide display windows featured in big city stores across the land, whoever owned this one chose to go with small, oval shaped windows with an ocean blue trim that went quite fetchingly with the sea-green storefront. Above the door, a sign reading Ocean Breeze Massage Therapy Clinic and Supply.

Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers. Perfect. Turning, she aimed a grin at her mother and hurried to Toola’s side. The fillies galloped across the street, ignoring Skydancer’s demand that they stop and wait for her lest they get run over by a taxi cart.

They entered the shop, the tinkling of shop bells made Sure Stroke’s ears twitch. Her eyes darted about the shop, taking in as much as she could in one go. Wooden shells lined the wall behind a service counter on the right side, filled with books, jars of ointments, salves, and massage oils, as well as what appeared to be some strange foam cylinders.

What a massage therapist would want with such a thing, Sure Stroke didn’t know. Her attention was drawn toward the books lining the shelf. There were about twenty in total, each of varying thickness. The question, though, was which would be best for Esalen.

At her side, Toola Roola was all but prancing on the tips of her hooves. She darted over to the counter with an excited squeal. Her tail wagged like an eager puppy, she reared up to place her hooves on the counter and gape up at the selection with wonder. Sure Stroke could almost see the wheels in her head turning, churning out all the happy dreams in which Esalen opened different gifts with a happy chitter and answered her confession not with words, but a deep kiss.

The familiar feeling of her mother’s wing clipping her ears made Sure Stroke yelp and clap her hooves over her head. She sat back on her rump, ears pinned, looking up at her mother with her most pitiful pout.

“Don’t you give me those watery eyes, young filly,” Skydancer scolded, a stern frown marring her lovely face. “You know better than to cross a busy street like that!”

Sure Stroke hung her head. “Yes, mom. Sorry.”

Skydancer sighed. “Oh, stop your moping, dear. Let’s find presents for you and Toola to give Esalen.”

Almost on cue, a young mare maybe a few years older than Sure Stroke came trotting out from behind a curtain. “Welcome to Ocean Breeze’s Massage Clinic and Supply!” she greeted, a bright smile spread across her sunset purple cheeks and green eyes shining beneath a teal mane. “My name is Lavender Glow, how may I help you today?”

“My daughter and her friend were looking to buy gifts for another little friend of theirs,” Skydancer replied smoothly.

“Oh?” Lavender Glow’s eyes fell upon Sure Stroke and Toola Roola. “What sort of thing were you looking to get her? We have a full supply of therapeutic lotions, plenty of salves, really anything you’d like to help a pony relax and let stress just wash away. We’ve also got a full stock of scented candles, if she likes those,” she added, gesturing to a display table along the far wall.

Now that was an interesting thought. Sure Stroke hummed and trotted over to take a look at the selection, her eyes flitting over the labels and brows furrowing in thought. What sort of scent might Esalen enjoy? Applewood, maybe? Maple would be more of something for, well, Maple, but maybe Oak or Pine Needle, given her love for the forest.

Then she found one that made her tail swish and brought a coy smirk to her lips. Sure Stroke glanced over her shoulder at Toola, checking to make sure the filly wasn’t watching.

She wasn’t. Toola was stood on her hind hooves and grabbing Lavender Glow’s attention. “That salve there,” she said, jabbing a hoof at a rather large blue jar, the curls of her mane bouncing and shimmering in the light as she all but pranced in place. “The one that says that it helps with strained muscles and works well when rubbed in during therapy! She’ll love that!”

“Will she now? Is your friend a masseuse, or is that her special talent?” Lavender asked as she levitated the jar down to rest on the countertop.

Sure Stroke watched as Toola made to reply, but stopped short, hesitating no doubt on her choice of words. Then, she nodded, speaking slowly, “Yes. She’s very good at it, actually. A natural and she hasn’t even been trained. She helps my sister and I when we get muscle pains from dancing or gymnastics.”

A nice save, to be true. Sure Stroke stealthily scooped the candle under her wing and trotted over to wait while Toola exchanged four bits for the salve. Once Lavender Glow bagged up her selection and held it out for Toola to take in her mouth, then skip over to allow Skydancer to place it in the saddlebags along with the rest of her gifts, it was Sure Stroke’s turn to place her selection on the counter. “I’ll take this. Also, could you possibly recommend any books on massage techniques?”

Lavender’s ears perked up. “What sort would you like? We have several different types.” She stepped close to the shelf and pointed to each book in turn as she read them off, “We have books on deep tissue massages, athletic massages, nerve point therapy, Scandineighvian massages are quite popular, though they’re known by another name as well. I quite like that name, myself.”

“What is it?” Sure Stroke asked, her wings twitching. Something about the salespony’s tone told her this was the one.

“It’s a funny name, really. Pretty, though, and it goes along with the method of slow, stroking and kneading motions. Typically, it’s called a Scandineighvian massage, but in Los Pegasus it’s typically calls an Esalen massage.”

Bingo, Sure Stroke beamed, swishing her tail as she heard Toola gasp behind her. It was just too perfect to ignore. “I’d like that and this candle, please.”

---

After the girls finished their business at Ocean Breeze’s shop and they’d taken a quick walk over to Cecci’s to fill their bellies, the trio found their way to their final destination on their shopping excursion.

“You Do the Dishes?” Toola Roola wrinkled her snout and shot Sure Stroke a questioning look. “Why in love’s name would you come here for a present for Aspire, Doodle? We were just in a bookstore, y’know, where he’d probably live if he had the chance.”

As much as Sure Stroke wanted to fire back a quick retort at her last comment, she found herself unable. Truth be told, he just might. The rest, on the other hoof, was easy enough. “Because,” she drawled, casually trotting into the store and flicking her tail across Toola’s nose as she passed her by, “Aspire is probably going to get books by the shelf-full from everypony else, yourself included. I want to find something he’ll remember is from me because it sticks out.”

The gymnast filly tittered. “Doodle, you could show up with nothing at all except for all the love you could offer and that colt would probably do backflips.”

Now there was a visual. Aspire doing backflips like Nimble Hooves and Toola Roola. Sure Stroke smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes before turning to look at the shelves lining the wall.

Her eyes scanned over the little porcelain and china creations, from the charming figures of animals, to the dinner plates, teapots, and cups. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes lingering more on the cups than anything else. Of all the things her silly bookbug of a boyfriend loved—her, reading, in general being a smug little punk—there was one thing all the nymphs and foals neglected. Rather shortsighted of them, in her opinion.

But it left her with a few nice options for gifts. After all, he enjoyed that overly sweetened swill most changelings passed off as “tea” well enough, and his love affair for coffee, of all things, was as plain as the smirk that so often graced his lips.

It was at that moment Fine Brush, the shops co-owner, stepped around the counter and met them with a smile. “Well, well! I think I remember your faces! Visitors to Coneigh Island if I’m not mistaken, right?” she asked, her eyes flitting down to Sure Stroke. “I definitely recall you being quite taken with our wares.”

Sure Stroke bobbed her head and dug into her mother’s saddlebag, fishing out a small business card which bore the shop’s name. “I was. You gave me your business card when I asked about the at-home decorating set.”

Fine Brush’s ears perked up. “That’s right! You asked whether or not we could ship them!” Swishing her tail, she glanced at Skydancer’s saddlebags, then back at Sure Stroke, arching a brow. “I take it you’re all out looking for gifts. Somepony’s birthday?”

“A village holiday,” Skydancer supplied. “Sort of a celebration of unity and friendship. A popular day for lovers as well, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Oh! Well, I’m glad you thought to come here again for a gift! I’d be happy to help. Why don’t you all take a look around and let me know what you’d like to decorate? Or if you’d prefer the at-home kit, depending on your schedule.”

With a nod of thanks, Sure Stroke drifted over to the shelf where all the different mugs and cups sat, awaiting her appraisal. She frowned, carefully scratching the various competitors to the proverbial crown off the list. The cups wouldn’t do for coffee or tea, since porcelain didn’t do particularly well with heat, so she could toss those out straight away. Though, truth be told, they’d been eliminated long before she stepped hoof into the shop.

What she needed for Aspire was a good mug. A good mug he could drink while being terribly smug.

I know I’m going to hate all the ways he turns this into stupid puns and wordplay, but I also know I’ll love it somewhere deep down. And his smile will be worth it all anyway. Her brows furrowed as she let her eyes sweep over the different mugs. There were some wide enough to eat soup out of, a few as tall as his snout was long, and a couple so tiny Sure Stroke could only wonder what the point of them was other than decoration.Then she saw a note about it being for a special type of coffee called café con leche and corrected herself.

At long last, she found it. Hidden amongst its brethren of different sizes, shapes, and quirky handles, was a nice, simple, plain classic mug. One just big enough to contain the steaming morning brew or to enjoy a slightly larger cup of tea when the mood hit. Easily interchangeable. And so very Aspire.

Functionality, with a bit of a quirky side.

Though the latter would be up to her to supply.

A smile crept across her face. Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers as she plucked the mug from the shelf. She knew exactly how she wanted to decorate it. Really, there was only one way a mug for Aspire deserved to be done.

But she could be a bit creative with it in her own right.

Turning to face Fine Brush again, she held up her selection. “I’ll take this, please,” she said. “And one at-home kit.”

The mare beamed. “Okay! That’s three bits for the mug, six for the full kit, which will bring the total up to nine bits.” Thinking on it a moment, she asked, “Which color paints would you like, dear? It’s included in the price, of course, but I’d like to make sure you get enough to decorate your friend’s mug however you want.”

“I’ll need two,” Sure Stroke replied. “Black, white, and forest green.”

“That’s an interesting combination. Is he a fan of … is it the Timber? The Seaddle Timber are the hoofball team, right?”

Sure Stroke shook her head. “No, he’s not really a sports fan. Green is just a color I think would suit it well. And black is for the little message I’m going to write on it.”

Fine Brush tilted her head back, an understanding gleam shone in her eyes. “Far be it from me to question inspiration. I’ll be just a moment.” She turned and hurried into the back room to gather the paints Sure Stroke needed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught matching looks of confusion and intrigue from her mother and Toola Roola. Sure Stroke shook her head and tapped a hoof to her lips. “Later,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth. “Can’t say it outside the village.”

The pair nodded, knowing better than to press on anything sensitive to that particular issue. A good thing, too, as Fine Brush came trotting out mere seconds later with a pair of small paint cups sealed with plastic lids held aloft in her magic. She pulled one of the at home kits down from the shelf and placed the paints inside, then closed it up. Skydancer then stepped forward and paid the nine bit fee and slipped the box into her saddlebags.

With their shopping done, they set off for the train station, a quick glance at the clock confirming that they were on track to make it with about ten minutes to spare.

Not bad timing, all things considered.

Sure Stroke smiled and chatted idly with Toola as she skipped along by her side. Her mind, though, was a hundred miles away, on a young nymph waiting for her in that village nestled in Neighagara Forest. She could almost picture the grin that would split his handsome face when he saw her gift.

---

The sun had just begun to set by the time Sure Stroke walked through the village gate. She, Skydancer, and Toola worked to separate out their packages into one another’s saddlebags long before they left the station, a decision made by the little gymnast.

“The twins and their parents are going to see you two walking home with full bags,” Toola informed them gravely, “so they’ll already be suspicious and want to try to prod it out of you. If the other Caretakers see us shuffling packages around and they hear, the next two days will be nothing but changelings trying to wheedle their presents out of you early.”

Skydancer had fixed Toola with a quizzical look. “I take it you have a lot of experience with this, given that Nimble is your sister.”

“Don’t forget my parents,” Toola reminded with a sheepish grin. “Every year around this time, I get all of the coy smiles about what my gifts will be, while they try to tease and tickle me until I crack and tell them everything.” Her eyes flashed with determination. “This year is gonna be different though. I’ve been able to slip away each time they get that look in their eyes, and I’m going to last until Sharers’ Day come Tartarus or high water!”

Both pegasi winced and offered their sympathies, then quickly set about arranging things so their gifts were placed in the appropriate bags and hidden away as best they could. Not easy, given that Skydancer’s saddlebags could only fit so much before the seams began to show their integrity being tested.

Sure Stroke and Toola parted with a hug and a quick whisper in the gymnast’s ear about what she had planned for Aspire’s gift.

True to form, Toola tittered and waggled her ears, then whispered her own promise that Sure Stroke would just adore the gift she’d picked out for her a while back. Before she could think to react, Toola backflipped out of reach and hurried her way home, bidding the pegasi pair goodbye and thanks for having her along over her shoulder as she went.

Huffing a breath through her nose, Sure Stroke rolled her eyes and turned to walk down the path home doing her best to pointedly ignore the toothy grin gracing her mother’s face.

Everyone just seemed to live to tease her.

Though not enough that Skydancer didn’t understand the urgency of Toola’s warning. As soon as they came within view of the twins’ house, she flared her wings and motioned for Sure Stroke to do the same. Mother and daughter took flight together, speeding toward their house as fast as they could in hopes that their changeling neighbors wouldn’t have time to notice the state of her saddlebags.

They made it to the front door without a sign of polished carapace or translucent wings, let along any fanged grins and glowing eyes betraying mischievous intent.

Skydancer opened the door and shooed her inside, then darted in and shut it behind them. “Okay,” she said with a relieved sigh. “Home without trouble.” With a flutter of her wings, she trotted into the kitchen and checked for any sign of Drizzly. There was none. “Your father must be finishing up with the weather team. I’ll put our gifts away so we can wrap them after dinner.”

“Wait!” Sure Stroke called, holding up a hoof. “I need to work on Aspire’s mug!”

Sunny yellow ears flicked. “Ah! Sorry, honey, I nearly forgot!” A sheepish smile spread across her face, she set the saddlebags down on the kitchen table and retrieved the You Do the Dishes At-Home kit. She then placed it at Sure Stroke’s usual spot, the seat nearest the door. “Here. I’m going to go put the rest of these away until we can all get wrapping. Oh! Do put something down before you start painting, please. I’d rather not have to clean paint drops off another table.”

Sure Stroke ducked her head to hide a crooked smile, nodding once. She trotted over to collect an old tablecloth her mother always insisted she use whenever painting at the dinner table. She folded it into a large square and set it in place, then set about opening up the decorating kit.

The kit supplied several thin brushes, no doubt for the more intricate work of writing messages or putting extra detail into scenery, along with one inch wide brush, the mug, the three small cups of paint, and a cup labeled “Glaze: Coat Your Dish Once Finished and Allow One Day to Sit.”

She sat in her seat for a moment, thinking over her design. The message was easy enough, three simple words painted in black would be displayed across the face of the cup, on the opposite side of the handle. But there had to be something else to go along with them. Something to add character to it.

Deciding what to do with the green was simple enough. Given the changelings’ love for their sticky, goopy cocoon slime and the verdant forest surrounding the village, she chose to paint the inside of the mug. A bit different than what most might do, but it would make a nice touch for when he took a sip. A little reminder each time. Once she finished that, it came time to let the paint dry. A half hour or so later, she was able to add a nice, thorough coat of white over the creamy porcelain.

After a short rest to let it dry once more, Sure Stroke was ready to put the finishing touches on Aspire’s mug. Just as her father, Drizzly, arrived and greeted both her and Skydancer with warm hugs and nuzzles.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said softly. “Warm Welcome caught me on my way up and was asking where you two had gotten to. He had that smirk on his face like he knew what we were up to and kept trying to see if there was something I wanted to tell him.” Drizzly sniffed. “Dang tongue flicking, emotion tasting trick! I thought this was supposed to be a gift exchange, not an inquisition.”

“According to Toola, the Caretakers are always like that.” Skydancer shrugged. “If I were to guess, I’d say it’s because they just think it’s fun to see what they can get their friends to spill.”

Sure Stroke pursed her lips. “Maybe,” she said slowly, “or maybe they like to see if they can get a hint so they know if what they’ve gotten us is enough.”

Her parents’ ears flicked. They paused a moment to consider the notion, slow smiles spread across their faces. “That actually would fit,” Drizzly admitted after a moment. “Warm and Faith do have a tendency to demand everything be, ah, equivalent when giving or receiving.”

“You’re thinking of when they fed and insisted we eat as much as they?” Skydancer asked.

“That and how they acted when Haberdasher was in town.”

Humming a note, Sure Stroke picked up the mug and began painting in a few oblong ovals and circles of differing shapes and sizes all over the mug. Just as random as her changeling friends could be.

Yet, at the same time, they made perfect sense to her. A wonderful contradiction.

Sure Stroke chuckled to herself as she painted her little message to Aspire across the face of the mug, then began to apply the glaze both inside and out, and quickly hid it in her parents’ room.

As she came out, satisfied with her efforts, she found herself met with matching looks of amusement and confusion from her parents. Grinning, Sure Stroke waggled her ears. “If Aspire and Esalen come over between now and Sharers’ Day, they’re pretty likely to see it if I leave it out in the kitchen. And my room is the first they’ll think I hid everything,” she explained. “But I’d bet my feathers they wouldn’t dare try to go in yours without permission.”

Skydancer snickered. “Now, that,” she said, shaking her head, “is thinking far too much like that boyfriend of yours.”

The filly shrugged her wings. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned around here, it’s that if you’re going to outwit a changeling, you have to think like one.”

Comments

[jqnexx]

“A village holiday,” Skydancer supplied. “Sort of a celebration of unity and friendship. A popular day for lovers as well, from what I’ve ”

Unfinished sentence here.

[fractalman]

A smile crept across her face. Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers as she plucked the mug from the shelf. She knew exactly how she wanted to decorate it. Really, there was only one way a mug for Aspire deserved to be done.

And thus was born The Mug, the one saying "world's smuggest changeling".

[Cursed Quill]

Corrections offered without malice.

Where two next,

to

it’s typically calls an Esalen massage.”

called

the shops co-owner,

shop's

stepped hoof into the shop.

set hoof into the shop.
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/set_foot