Part 4- Inaccurately Penultimate

The stars displayed their flairs and talents, twirling and sparkling over the night sky. The six friends laughed and rejoiced in their summer bonfire. A cool summer breeze swept over the lands one last time, riffling through the ponies’ manes.

The night crept on with Pinkie Pie’s ridiculous tales of wonder and fantasy, Rarity’s epic of a pony and her long lost true love, and Fluttershy’s little lullaby that told the story of the love between mother and filly.

A story, epic, saga, poem, or anything like the sort is an experience for the audience. The wonders of Marco Poni (no matter how short it was) riveted everypony there, each with a vision of what happened: Similar, but yet different in their own little ways.

But what of the bard, the shaman, the storyteller? What is it that they are telling us? Their own experiences, passed on to us, the audience. A bit of something from them to us. A part of them to live on through us to pass along to a friend or stranger. A gift. A present.

The crescent moon smiled over the six ponies down below.

A gift.

A present.