The Mild West Sun beat down on Gummy’s parched scales, but Gummy did not complain. His eyes were reddened, thirsty for water. He only knew this place from what his master told him, and his master did not warn him about the smoldering heat of the afternoon hours.
Look at those huge chompers, Gummy! One… two… fifteen… twenty-one… I’m gonna need more hooves if I want to count all of those teeth!
Amidst the wafting lines of hot air, Gummy heard his master’s voice. Wisps of pink danced around Gummy’s eyes. He stood still, expecting the warm embrace of his master. Instead, he was bathed in the lonely heat of the Mild West.
You’re going to a new home with more alligators! Isn’t that exciting, Gummy? Don’t look sad! You’re all grown up and you get to meet new alligators!
Feeling nothing but the chill of isolation, Gummy continued to walk. He still walked with a slight spring in his legs. A serene smile was on his face. If his master taught Gummy anything, it was to stay positive.
Of course they’ll like you, Gummy! Come on, let’s go to your new home. I’ve got all your things! I wonder if you’ve got enough space for your bed. Do you know?
A harsh, faint wind blew past Gummy. Fine shards of sand struck at his eye. The scent of salt and iron filled his nostrils. He staggered for a moment, but continued walking. If he knew how to laugh, he would laugh. Instead, he smiled. His master did the same and was rewarded, a story went.
Strange figures appeared before Gummy. They were too tall and unusual to know his master. They shot up from the ground and had their arms held upwards in a frozen position. Peculiar tufts of hair grew from all parts of their body and stood up, like his master’s mane. But underneath the hair, they were colored green, much like Gummy.
They did not look like alligators, that much Gummy knew. There were no alligators that followed Gummy from the swamp. They were too busy loafing below the bubbling stream that did not smell of flowers and foraging for meals that did not taste sweet.
Gummy approached the green figures. His tail wagged excitedly, but the figures did not notice him. He walked closer to them. Still no response.
One of the green figures had a lopsided arm. It bent down, as if to greet Gummy, then fell off. Water spilt from the figure’s arm. Gummy realized that it was one of those green bottles filled with bubbling, sweet water. Perhaps this is where his master found the bottles.
Gummy gripped the bottle with his jaws and lifted his head high. A deluge of sweet water rushed down his mouth and face. The taste was familiar, but faint. It tasted like the water his master fed him when he was teething.
Gummy gave a contented smile to the green figure. The figure did not reply.
Gummy briefly thought of returning to his new home in the swamp. He glanced behind him, expecting to find the thick-leaved trees and swarm of insects that guarded the swamp’s entrance. A void of sand waved at Gummy through the desert air.
Gummy turned around.He lifted his legs and continued to march home.
Look, look, look! There’s the Mild West. That means you’re close to your new home!
His new home was no home. Sweet, immobile prey did not live there. Green, thick-walled capsules of fresh water did not grow in the swamp. Trees bordered the swamp, rather than stay in little cups.
I’ll visit you whenever I can. Like tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that!
His master was not there.
A smile escaped his lips. He knew that he would see his master if he kept walking. If he smiled, his master would come and rescue him.
Nooooooo! Poor Gummy, abandoned by the only pony he ever really trusted. This is very sad and sweet, and I like the way that Gummy has been shaped by the lessons Pinkie taught him. It saddens me that Pinkie had to let him go. I can only hope there’s more waiting for him in the desert than sorrow.