In the early days (now crumbling into myth,) when the world was young and cruel, a Rainbow
pony was almost born.
If the mighty banner of color had soared over the laboring mare one instant sooner, her child
would have sported a flowing mane of deep pink, sun-gold, emerald, and summer-sky blue. Then
from his first reed-thin cry, the others of the tribe would have fiercely protected the foal
from every danger, knowing that he was destined to protect the ever-wandering herd with
powerful magic.
As it was, the colt resembled his father in every way (as is usual with ponies) and no
one revered him. His parents coddled him and the herd gratefully tallied one more member, but
without fanfare. He was, after all, just another pony.
But destiny is a strange and shifting thing, and sometimes fate will not be
cheated . . .
The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.
