"Yer out here early."

"Woke up early."

"You aint nobody to wake up early," he says, cracking open the can as he sits next to her at the end of the dock and drawin' in deep.

"I been wakin' up early," she says. "Don't know why."

"'Cos you been gettin' tired early."

"I aint tired," she laughs, nudging him. "I aint tired like you!"

"You gettin' to be."

"I reckon I aint!"

"I reckon you is."

"You would," she says kicking her bare feet back and forth, splishin' the water about. "Old grumpy Tails. 'I'm rull tired so everybody's rull tired. Hey you. Why aint you tired. You should be tired. Rawr I'm Tails,'" she says in her Tails voice with an exaggerated squint.

"That's me," Tails says, followin' up a sip. "That impersonation was awful, though."

"I reckon if it hadn't been me doin' it, and I was just-a listenin', I woulda reckoned there was two of ye."

"You'd reckon a tree critter for a mermaid iffin' it told you it were."

"I knowed they existed," she says, sneering.

"They don't, ye idjit."

"Says you. You ever try smilin'? You might be surprised by the joysa life, you tried smilin' every now 'n again."

"Girl, you couldn't crush my smile with a dinosaur," he says with a wily smile.

"You aint funny, you fibber," she reckons insistently. "Iffin' you smile, go on, tell me about it. What makes you smile?"

"A cold beer makes me smile," he says, drawin' another gulp from the can.

"Nawh, that aint no smile. That's the trouble in you right there, you been reckonin' a grimace for a smile for as long as you can 'member."
Her reasonin' stings like a red wasp, but he reckons he deserves it. He shrugs it off and sets the can down between 'em.

"Purdy sunrise," he says out of the wild blue yonder.

"Aint it?" her face a delight. "It's pink, like me. Like I could just evaporate up into them pink clouds and be a part of them forever."

"I reckon we should all be so blessed."

"Hey, Miles?"
He turns his head to find her already lookin' up at him with them bright green eyes. She looked concerned, as she was one to be at least talkin' serious when she used his real name. "You gettin' along all right?"
"I reckon," he says, breaking eye contact and redirectin' his eyeballs back to the colorful rise of the mornin'. "I reckon I am."
"Y'know ya'll can talk to me anytime you want, right?"
"I reckon so," he says.

Her eyes drop to the water, her mouth wantin' to say more but her heart reckonin' futility. A sadness warshes over her like a loomin' cloud a rain off yonder on a purdy day.

Tails drains the can and tosses it in the trash basket on the corner before abruptly standin'. "C'mon kiddo, I got a surprise for ye."

"For me?!" she looks up at him, eyes wide of a delighted confusion. "What ya'll surprisin' me fer?"

"It's a surprise."

"Ya'll surprisin' me with the reason ya'll surprisin' me?!"

"It's a surprise," he says chewin' on his cheek and nudgin' her in the back with his foot. She hops up and slips into them flip-flops quicker than greased lightnin' on the tail of a jumpin' jackrabbit. "C'mon."

She follows him into the woods and along the crick until they come along what appears only at first to be a fallen' tree - in fact it were cut down. It were cut down by none other than Miles Prower himself, he reckons as he beams proudly.

Amy cocks her head to a confused angle. "It's a log."

"I reckon it aint no ordinary log."

"You reckon?"

"I do."

"What kinda log you reckon it fer?"

"Looks like it just might be the foundations of a raft aint been cut out yet. What do you, reckon?"

Amy caint contain herself. She finds herself a hoppin' up and down before she even knowed. "You reckon?!"

"I do."

Amy just about goes limp, her body a tippin' into his as her arms cling around his torso like a hungry man's belt. "A raft!"

Tails aint quite sure what to do with that affection he given, so he just a pats her on the head. "Don't get too excited now. It's gon' be a lot of work."

"Awh!" she pushes herself off of him and regains her balance before resumin' her hoppin' dance, like a rabbit on a hot tar road. "Work I can handle!"

"You gon' get tired."

She stops out of breath. "I aint gon' get tired. Not like you old timer!"

"You gon' see you wrong."

"You gon' see! Haha."

And see they both did, after a long hard day of cuttin' and tyin' together logs they were both tired. Tails right considered teasin' her for it, but he figgered aint no sense in teasin' her for it if she aint tryina rub nothin' in.

Sun was low when they started, and it's low when they finish, clear off to the other side of the sky.

"You really reckon you upta this kinda adventure?" he says, his eyes cast over the water like a fishin' line.

"I reckon I am! I reckon I always been. Since the day I was born." Her voice is filled with a kinda lightness to it, like a leaf or a blade of grass at the mercy of a gentle summer breeze.

"I reckon I'll miss you," he says abruptly, his words cuttin' sharp.

Her smile fades for a moment as she ponders the reality of the sitcheeation before brightnin' her face up again like the sun on a cloudy day. "You could come with me!" she reckons, excited, hoppin' up and down. "Aint no missin' the feller yer on an adventure with!"

Tails is silent for a time. When he says what he says, Amy knows he means it. "I caint."

"Y-... you caint, huh?" Her smile falls again. She don't reckon no quick ponderin's gonna bring it back this time.

His eyes scannin' the docks as if he were ashamed a-what he couldn't find down there. "Caint."
Her eyes and face muscles strainin', showin' off how visibly hurt she is by this word. He aint never seen her this hurt before, and it crushes him like a dinosaur. He smiles at the thought, through the water in his eyes.

"Why caint ye?"

"I think you know why, Amy."

"I knowed this'd come," she says, laughing bitterly and wiping her eyes on her the top a her gloved fist.

"Yeah," he sighs, broken like a busted bathtub. "I knowed it too."

"Does it really have to end like this?"

"I reckon it's part of growin' up," he says.

She shakes her head. "I don't reckon it orta be this way. I don't reckon at all."

"I reckon it's for the best," he says, turning his head away. "Go on your adventure now. Git."

"You might forget about me, Miles Prower," she sniffs, her voice warpin' like a waterlogged 2x4 under the strain and pressure of the elements, "but I aint never gonna forget about you."

"I aint gonna forget you, Amy Rose," he sniffs, rightin' himself as best he can. "Go on. Git."

They don't say nothin' after that. They don't hug or shake hands or nothin' you might think old friends like them might. Amy silently gets on the raft and unties it, and pushes herself off yonder. He keeps his eyes offa her until the paddling quiets a bit.

He turns to look. He watches her get small until she aint much more than a speck swallered by the place where the sun kisses the water tonight. He ponders what that meant to her, bitterly knowin' deep down that now he aint ever gon' figure it out. It's been a long time comin', he reckons. They both knowed this part a him would die out completely like a wounded horse starved to death because he couldn't bring himself to shoot it. It were all just a matter of time.

Miles Prower knowed he'd never see Amy Rose again, but he reckoned he'd think of her - when the sun kisses the water goodnight, everyday for the rest of our lives.