GreenHoof eventually makes his way to the woods of Four Cannon, heading down a familiar path. The green pony felt lost, despite the fact that he knew where he was walking. Perhaps more of a metaphysical sense. Here he couldn't be around the one he considered his closest. Sometimes he wondered if he would've been better off as a mare, being able to avoid awkward situations like the one he had just suffered with Rain . The worst part was, he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He remembered a year ago, her being the first pony he had met, both of them a bit creeped out by the shipping and pony-sexual thing. Perhaps ironically, once the stallion came to terms with his new physiology in the physical sense enough to acknowlege romantic feelings, Rain was the first mare that he began to have feelings towards, that time over a year ago. But he had always repressed it, knowing that she'd be happier with others, particularly mares. For the most part, it didn't bother him overmuch, and he managed to ignore it. He developed other love interests, as failed as all of them were, and he was happy to live life as Rain's farmerbro. But none of it fit. All pieces to a puzzle that was never meant to be assembled. "Story of my life..." the Louisianian mutters to himself as he comes upon a familiar glade, the second time he'd witnessed the green leaves around starting to show a hint of withering and browning as his second pony-winter approached. Gritting his teeth subconsciously, Green Hoof walked up to the gravestone of a long-abandoned tomb, the one of a person who had sacrificed his life to save him and his friends. He had visited it countless times before, but lately, each time he visited it he found himself feeling more and more less-belonging, like the one beyond the grave was urging him to partake in those old instincts since his human times to go beyond the horizons he was prescribed.
 
GreenHoof sighs through his nostrols and turns his head up from the grave to the clear night sky, gazing at the stars. He remembered some of his frequent night-flights as a human, free to soar into the planet's atmosphere and explore the star-light world of a place forbidden to the vast majority of humans, where he could ascend and descend from it as he had pleased...
 
...Not so anymore...
 
GreenHoof stares at a particular star, one that looked vaguely familiar, a faint red. His favorite color. He remembered pitching the nose of his aircraft nose-forward towards the red planet, partaking -- if not just for a second -- that he was destined to go there if his ship would take him that far. Seconds later, however, the stall-horn of his 'space vessel' would howl at him, pulling him back to reality as the nose of his aircraft fell back towards the horizon, however gently, as if tenderly repremanding him for his arrogance as to believe he could escape. Perhaps it was the cruelty of natural events that now rendered him even flightless in the atmospheric sense. Not only could he not be a space-faring creature, but now not even a sky-faring creature... Was this another reason the stallion had been attracted to Rain? She could partake in the sky's delight at a moment's notice. He could not. The stallion looked back down at the ground from Luna's night sky and chuckled, remembering the words of his grandmother, also gently repremanding him. 'you can never leave well enough alone', 'always gotta mess with the deck'. It was true. Even as a human - and especially as a pony - he never really felt like he belonged. The horizon was always calling. The need to keep going, keep travelling. Looking for something that might not even be there...
 
GreenHoof sighs wistfully and levels his eyes with the headstone again. Shrugging, he reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out a cigarette, along with the lighter that he had scored in the desert. Sticking it in his mouth and lighting up, he gazed at the headstone in casual ponderment, as if wondering what his yellow friend would say about the situation.
 
GreenHoof puffs on the cigarette, nodding to himself as he 'imagines' a response.
 
GreenHoof ,before long, feels the weight of his eyelids overcome him, and the urge of his fatigue, combined with the perhaps imagined callings of his friend to rest, prompt the stallion to lay down, in front of the mostly forgotten grave of Bob the Unicorn. A cool late-summer night breeze washes over him, and Green Hoof, formerly known as Lee Walker, falls asleep at the foot of a stallion who shaped his history. As for the future of the green pony, however... history still had yet to have it's say.