Ponyta-Krissy's Story

Jona Navette heard the melody in the night. Not with his ears, and not really with his heart. It was with something else. Something deeper, and darker. Whatever it was it called to Jona and compelled him to rise from where he slept.

The child's room was on the ground floor of their little house. He had a glorious window with a seat in it. Perfect for daydreaming- and there was a small garden out front. They had a high fence around the property which was a comfort. Jona had spent many days in this exact spot. He had made forts from cushions and defended his room from giant worms and evil bees.

Jona found himself unlatching the window and climbing into the flowerbeds. He was in his footsie pajamas and payed little to no heed the way the bottoms grew dark with fresh soil. The child trod across the yard and pulled the string to unlatch the gate. He found himself paying no care to the loud creak of the gate, but hasting onwards.

Jona himself wondered where his legs were taking him. Where had he come from again? He remembered the flowers. They had been quite pretty.