Daring Do's Bipedal Adventure

by insaneponyauthor

Prologue

"Hey, what's that? Are you writing fanfiction again?" asks Daring Do.

That's none of your business! I try to tilt the screen so that she can't see, but she just leans in closer. My efforts at typing are hampered considerably by the pony pressing against my shoulder, but my narration continues undaunted.

"On the contrary, it is of critical importance to me. Ever since Moondancer's bookwalking spell went wrong and trapped me here with you, you've been promising that you would write me back into the story like you did for the others."

Look, I already explained this a million times. We only write one chapter each. You showed up too late to make it back into the last story, so you'll just have to wait until we do another one.

"It's been EIGHT MONTHS!"

You don't have to shout! You're like three inches from my ear. Anyway, it can't have been that long. Hold on, let me check. Huh, I guess you are right. Time really does fly. I guess I just got busy with important stuff and forgot about the whole Round Robin thing.

"Busy? You just watch Netflix all day!" she shouts again despite my previous admonition.

Like I said, important stuff. Besides, maybe it'd be easier if you gave me some writing tips. You are an accomplished writer right? I suck enough at writing even when I don't have a hostile equine breathing down my neck.

"What would I know about writing? I'm an adroit adventurer archeologist, not an author! Unless the writing you want help with is ancient runes in which case I'd recommend starting with a high quality carving tool."

Oh of course! You're the fictional Daring Do. Of course she wouldn't write about her secret identity in the published books. You've probably never even heard of A.K. Yearling. I mean, not that she's not fictional too, but I guess you're like doubly fictional or something.

Well you're in luck, because we finally agreed on a topic for the next story. It'll be a bit different than what you're used to though.

Daring's anger momentarily gives way to apprehension. "Wait, before I go, can you tell me where the real Falcon—"