Fluttershy’s Friends
By the dobermans
Fluttershy stepped out of her cottage into a bright, early-summer morning, already promising to be a good day. She had traded a dozen eggs for a bottle of new melon-vanilla mane-and-tail conditioner in Ponyville the evening before, and it had been exactly what she had hoped for. She closed her eyes and took a breath of the balmy air, then let it go in a cheerful sigh. Time to begin another day’s work caring for her animal friends.
Her hooves cut through the long grass and spider webs of her front yard as she headed to her stream. Spittlebug eggs and dew quickly soaked her legs, and dandelion seeds began to collect in her tail as it brushed along the ground. Angel appeared in the doorway of the cottage, rubbing his eyes. He caught sight of Fluttershy already on the far side of the yard and rushed to catch up with her.
Fluttershy knelt by the stream and hummed softly as she concentrated on her work. She dipped her muzzle into the cold water and bit down. Standing, she lifted a dripping rope from below the surface, then stepped back and pulled a rusty steel cage onto the sandy bank.
“Oh no! It’s empty!” She bowed her head and shook it slowly. “What will I do? The poor Muskrat Family is almost starving, and I’m their only hope.”
Angel tugged the tip of her tail. She jumped, squealing softly. “Angel bunny, what are you doing up so early? Did you come to help me? You’re so sweet.”
Angel made casting motions.
“Oh, oh yes, I forgot! I’ll hurry and get the rod.” Fluttershy flew to the second story of her cottage. Moments later she returned carrying a fishing pole and a bucket. “Now to find some earthworms.”
She dug carefully into the banks of the stream with her hooves and overturned rocks with her nose. “Come out of your houses little fellows,” she said softly. When she happened to find a worm, she puckered her lips as if preparing for a kiss and pulled it out of the ground gently so as not to bruise it. Soon the bottom of the bucket was thick with purple-brown, writhing worms.
“I think that’s enough. Angel, would you be a good boy and help me get started?”
Angel held out his paws, eager to assist. Fluttershy lowered the end of the fishing line to him. He grasped the long, curved hook and raised it above his head, point upward. Fluttershy retrieved a worm from the bucket, again holding it awkwardly with her lips, and forced the soft segmented flesh onto the hook’s barb. The metal pierced the skin with a pop as it transfixed the tiny flailing body.
Fluttershy spat out the blood, slime and dirt that oozed from the wounds. “I’m sorry. That must hurt a lot. I’m so sorry.” She picked the pole up in her mouth and cast the line upstream of where the cage had been submerged. In less than a minute, there was a pull. Her mane bounced as she jerked her head back, setting the hook in the fish’s mouth.
Using her wings for stability, she stepped backward and pulled her shining, silver catch into the grass. It flapped its tail wildly. “Yay!” She stomped her hooves with pleasure.
Angel clapped and danced. He hopped to the fish and twisted the hook from its mouth.
“Looks like our little buddy is OK for another swim,” said Fluttershy, holding the pole so that the worm dangled in front of her eyes.
A little while later, five small fish flopped on the ground around her. One by one, Fluttershy picked them up and dropped them in the bucket. “All right Angel, let’s go.”
They walked uphill and around the cottage to the back yard, where a drying rack stood next to the chicken coop. A dozen hooks whittled from bleached wood formed three uneven rows. She put down the bucket, gently picked up a fish, and hung it face-up, driving one of the hooks through the gills. Its mouth opened and closed on the splintery end. “There you are, little knight. You have such shiny armor. I bet all of the fish damsels tell you so.”
She hung the rest of the fish and sat down to wait, gazing at them in admiration. They flapped their tails against the rack, croaking and squeaking softly as they tried to breathe. “So strong,” said Fluttershy. Hundreds of reflections of her sad eyes shone in their scales.
“Oh, let me see how the Muskrats are doing in the infirmary. Angel, please take care of our friends. I’ll be right back.” She flew some distance into the forest to a small shed modeled after her cottage. Above the door she had painted a picture of a pink heart on a yellow background with a butterfly in the center, surrounded by stylized squirrels, birds, and deer. She went inside.
Meanwhile, Angel stood with his arms crossed, tapping his foot below the rack. To amuse himself, he began pushing one of the fish near the bottom so it swung back and forth. When his attention drifted, his paw slipped and slid across the spiny dorsal fin. He let out a loud cry and began sucking on a quickly swelling toe.
Fluttershy heard his cry as she returned from her patients. “Angel, oh, Angel, what happened? Oh no, your little paw! You should be more careful sweetie. I’ll go make a poultice, you stay right here.”
She flew back to her cottage and returned with a bandage and some herbs. “There you go, don’t scratch at it. It’ll stop hurting soon.”
Angel nodded and hugged the paw.
“Now can I ask you a big, big favor?” asked Fluttershy.
Angel looked up.
“I realized that we won’t have enough to feed everybody tonight. Could you please stay and watch our sweet little knights until they go to sleep?”
Angel thought for a moment, looked at his neatly bandaged paw, then nodded again.
“That’s a good, good boy! Thank you so much. I promise I’ll be back soon, and then we can all have a nice, warm, cozy evening together.”
* * *
Two bright-eyed field mice clambered up Fluttershy’s mane as she stooped to assist them. “Come on honeys, let mommy make it easier for you. We’re going to go for a little ride back to our cottage.”
The mice burrowed close against the back of her neck under her sweet-scented pink mane. “There you are, you two. Just stay there until I let you down. Let’s go!” They were safe. Smiling with contentment, she stood and turned back to where she had come from.
The forest air was cool, dipped in sunshine and shadow. Above the sky was changing between cloudy and clear, while below, fragile mossy green contrasted pale brown. Fluttershy trotted carefully through the trees, over roots and rocks, and now and again angled her head back to talk to her charges.
“I could fly of course, and maybe I should. But, no, then you might fall, and I wouldn’t be able to find you again. That would be bad. So Momma’s gonna take her time. Please be patient.” The mice didn’t respond, but that was fine with Fluttershy. They had fallen asleep between her shoulder blades, soothed by her warmth and the rhythmic motion of her breathing and walking.
Fluttershy began to hum, and then to sing:
In the rays of the sun
All the little mice play.
In the breath of the wind
All their cares melt away,
Then mamma is calling
Over hills, under trees:
Where, say, oh where
Could my little mice be?
“Sleep well, babies. My sweeties must be hungry – starving. Their mommy was so terrible, so bad. She was too busy with the bigger animals, the bunnies and the snakes and the squirrels, and Angel got another boo-boo that needed a bandage and healing herbs, and--”
A shrill cry pierced the air from far above. They had not passed unnoticed. An eagle had spotted the mice taking refuge in Fluttershy’s mane, and had tucked into a dive.
“Oh no, Mrs. Eagle! These little mice aren’t your food! Oh things are so unpredictable in the Everfree Forest--and so threatening!” The mice heard the eagle’s cry and woke. They began to squeal as Fluttershy hurried as best she could over the forest terrain.
“Oh … oh my … I have to … ouch!” said Fluttershy as she dodged branches and leaped over downed trees. She squinted her eyes against the lashing undergrowth. Her tail caught a briar bush as she half galloped, half flew by. She dared a look back. Some long pink hairs were left behind, tangled in the thorns. Worse, the eagle was gaining, beak open and claws outstretched.
“Oh no, what am I going to do?” She felt the mice trembling with fear. The wind swept her mane from side to side, putting them in full view of the eagle. Then she had an idea. She skidded to a halt and turned.
The mice squealed louder in panic. “Don’t worry babies. Mommy won’t let Mrs. Eagle get you!” As the hungry bird advanced and saw Fluttershy’s puffed chest and determined glare, she faltered and slowed. But then the thought of her own baby eaglets going hungry renewed her courage, and she pressed the attack.
Fluttershy expected this. All mommies had mouths to feed, after all. The plummeting eagle only a few feet away, Fluttershy jumped and flew as hard as she could straight up. Unable to stop, the eagle crashed into the ground and fell unconscious. Her dark brown feathers stuck out in all directions.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Eagle, but I couldn’t let you have these mice. My sweeties are hungry and I need to get them home. If you’re really hurt and need my help, come and see me later or send someone we both know. Please forgive me.” Fluttershy turned her face back to the mice. “Now now there, don’t worry. Mrs. Eagle’s just taking a little nap. Let’s go before she wakes up! We’re almost there.”
To calm her companions, and perhaps to ease her own fears, she resumed her song.
Little mice, they all listened.
Sweet mice, they obeyed:
All together ran back home, and
All together there they stayed.
She was crying. “You poor poor little mice … you must have been terrified … your little hearts are pounding. I, I didn’t mean for us to be seen. But, if you hadn’t been here in the first place, you wouldn’t have been spotted by Mrs. Eagle.” The mice looked at each other and bowed their heads in shame.
Fluttershy continued a few paces then stopped, her ears and tail perking up. “I know! I know what will make you feel better! I really should do something to make up for that terrible, awful experience. Momma’s going to take you to a secret place of hers. A place nobody else knows about. Do you want to go see?”
Beginning to cheer up, the mice whispered to each other, then nodded in agreement. Fluttershy smiled, her eyelashes still a little wet. “OK babies, let’s go!”
Their path began to circle uphill. Shelves of roots, leaves, and moss ascended as a natural staircase. Vines trailed downward in curling, wispy tendrils dripping water, and nectar fell from sticky orange flowers and yellow berries hanging high in the branches. A chill, gentle wind blew across their path.
Soon the shadows under the forest canopy broke, and the mice stood and looked out from behind Fluttershy’s damp mane, gripping tight with their paws. She stood high on a hill that stretched far off and became one side of a long valley. The sun was setting in beautiful clear gold at the valley’s end. Around them and above the tops of the trees in the valley, insects, birds, and furry white seeds floated in a stagnant, broken mist. Songs and cries rang from the underlying darkness.
“See babies, here we are. I hope you like it. I call it “Forever Valley”. I’ll tell you a secret, too. Mommy’s not really scared of the Everfree Forest. She just pretends to be to fit in. If something were to, to get her here, that would be OK. Everybody would get what they deserve.” She paused for a moment, deep in thought. Then nodding to herself, she continued, “I want you to remember that Mother Nature has many, many babies, but she doesn’t pick favorites. She’s very fair and kind. If she hurts you, well...”
The mice weren’t paying close attention; they were transfixed by the display in the sky. Fluttershy looked up as well. “The sun and the moon are so, so high.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the thought. “I’ve been up there in the sky too, but they never seem any closer. Rising and setting, both of them every day. And we creatures down here are all together. Or alone.”
She felt a tug, and turned to see the mice looking up at her, pleading with their eyes. “Oh,” she said, “Oh, I see. You want me to fly. Well, I don’t know. It’s getting late, and it would be very dangerous for you two.” Tails and shoulders drooped, and tears misted the mice’s eyes.
“Oh, don’t cry,” said Fluttershy, “Um, I guess we can try it, for a little bit. You have to promise to hold on the whole time, and as hard as you can. Promise?” The mice rubbed their paws together and nodded.
Instantly they were in the air, gliding out over the valley. Fluttershy dove low above the trees. Her pale yellow coat was almost perfect camouflage against the sunset’s light. They glided through pockets of mist and golden sunshine, both teeming with colorful winged life. Clouds of identical red gnats flew in crazy patterns, while birds and dragonflies and bats careered about, feasting in the haze. The buzzing and flapping of innumerable wings rose and fell as they passed. Wild singing and the fearsome noise of barking and wailing from below and the constant changes of light dazzled the mice. Fluttershy smiled as she flew, eyes closed.
After a few minutes, once the sun had slipped below the rim of the valley, Fluttershy returned to the hillside. The mice had become calm and sleepy again, reassured by the beauty of the sunset and by Fluttershy’s hushed, melodic voice. They released her mane and curled up again between her shoulders, but kept awake to enjoy the sights and sounds of the ending day beneath the heavily burdened trees, forgetting Mrs. Eagle and the chase.
Happy with her small victory, Fluttershy began once again to sing as she turned back down the hill.
In the glow of the fire,
Full bellies, sleepy heads,
Good mice, they’re rewarded
With dreams in sweet beds
A little while later, Fluttershy and the mice emerged from the forest within sight of the cottage. The stars and the moon’s silver light filled the night sky.
“What an adventure! I don’t mean to scold you two, but you shouldn’t make Momma Fluttershy go all the way out there to fetch you. You’re usually right at the edge of the forest in your burrow. What were you silly billies thinking? I bet you got lost.”
The mice nodded.
“Well, that’s OK. The world’s a big, scary, confusing place to such little ones. I know you’ve learned your lesson.”
They passed through the fence gate in the back yard. Angel ran towards them from the cottage door, his feet pitter-patting on the flagstones. He looked very distressed. “Here we are, home at last!” called Fluttershy, “And dinner’s all ready for you, just you wait. Oh.”
As Angel reached her, he pressed his tiny face into her foreleg and nuzzled.
Fluttershy frowned. “Oh Angel dear, you must have been so worried. How is your paw? Any better? We’ll put fresh herbs and a new bandage on your boo-boo right away, as soon as we get inside and get settled. We’ve had a very hard day.”
All four of them entered the cottage. Angel ran and jumped on top of a nearby table. After hopping to face right, left, and behind to look out the window, he turned and sat down facing the room, relaxed and quietly watching. Seeing half of a carrot in his bowl, Fluttershy knew he had already eaten. She walked to her carved oaken hutch and put on some light music. Chimes, wind breezing over thick grasses, and happy birdsong quietly filled the room. She paused for a moment and sighed.
“OK, now, in you go little friends!” she said. The mice understood. They stirred from where they were huddled and timidly climbed back down Fluttershy’s thick mane into the open-topped glass box she had leaned over. “Hee hee. Oops!” she giggled, “Don’t tickle!” With two plops they landed on a soft tuft of straw grass and began sniffing about for food.
Fluttershy chuckled. “Look at those little whiskers wiggle. And what is it you smell?” She leaned over further with a cautious smile, brushing her pink mane from her eyes. She watched the soft brown bodies turn this way and that. They thoroughly searched the turf, probing with their snouts and parting the blades of grass with their tiny paws. Eventually they reached the edges, where dirt and loose gravel separated other small islands of grass and wildflowers. The mice stopped and sat up, confused. One had dirt particles stuck to its trembling whiskers.
Fluttershy wearily raised her head and sat back on her haunches, still smiling. Closing her eyes and briefly unfurling her wings, she said in a gentle command, “All right girls, time to come out!”
At the sound of her voice, large, light brown, somewhat hairy ants began to emerge from the dark spaces between the grass blades, like water oozing into a hoof print in wet ground. They milled about and criss-crossed the dirt at first, leaving invisible trails of scent. Three or four found the mice and, scanning them with their antennae, hurried back to the others.
The mice hugged each other, both looking up at Fluttershy. They trusted her. Hadn’t she nurtured them with diligence and kindness from the time they were pups, after their mother had abandoned them? Hadn’t she just saved them from Mrs. Eagle? She would help them if there was any trouble.
“Aww,” breathed Fluttershy, beaming tenderly, “Enjoy your dinner, ladies.”
The ants attacked. They were tentative at first, biting only, then running quickly back, testing the defenses of their prey. The mice scurried around in complete panic, rocketing around the box, tripping through the grass and slamming into the walls. They had forgotten any thoughts of help. Fluttershy’s face peered down like a pale, distant sun.
The first sting landed. The afflicted mouse shrieked as it stumbled and crashed face-first into the gravel. Pausing to look at what new horror had befallen his sister, the other mouse too received a venomous sting, delivered quickly and brutally to his ribs. Another tiny wail sounded as the stunned mouse collapsed into a roll.
Their opportunity had arrived. The ants moved in controlled fury, a patterned conflagration licking at everything within the glass box, centered on the struggling mice. Hundreds of serrated pincers worked mechanically at the legs, tails and faces. Shiny abdomens rose and fell like insect clockwork, delivering sting after sting of raw, enduring pain. The crying of the mice became hoarse and trailed off.
The ants only became more violent when the mice fell paralyzed onto the dirt. They converged over the shivering bodies, covering them under a blanket of legs and clinging, oily carapaces. Several minutes passed in near silence.
The mice were almost dead as the ants trafficked freely through their open, discolored mouths. The way had already been cleared. Somewhere deep within, vigorous work was being done. Prey and hunters had become one.
Fluttershy observed with rapt attention. She leaned back down and cocked an ear, just close enough to hear the clicking legs and antennae, and the gasping, faltering breath of the mice. An impressed, “Ooh,” or “Nice work,” escaped her as the feeding continued. Encouragement and pride seemed to glow in her clear aqua-green eyes.
She sniffed the mice curiously for a moment as the ants began pushing them over the gravel in abortive, jerking movements. She raised her head once again. “My girls are so focused when they eat! And always so very well behaved. If only all of the little animals understood proper nourishment. Every creature, no matter how small, needs a daily meal. Or two, or three. Even fire ants.”
Fluttershy stood up and stretched her wings. “Oh well. Good job babies. Mommy’s going to check on the sick animals now. She’ll come back in the morning to clean up your house. I promise to be more mindful from now on.”
She went back to her hutch and turned off the music. The night frogs chirped in staccato discord in the vast darkness outside her cottage. Angel hopped down from the table where he’d been watching and settled down among the pillows in his basket. His bandage could wait until tomorrow.
Fluttershy stepped back out into the moonlit night and took a chill, ragged breath. She looked up at the purple sea of stars and clouds, but quickly averted her eyes.
Slowly she flew to the infirmary. On the way, she spotted the fish, now stiff and dry on the rack. “Oh no, the Muskrats! They haven’t eaten in three days!” She grabbed two of the fish and rushed now to the miniature cottage. When she arrived, she lit an oil lamp outside the door. The wick sputtered, casting a weak yellow light. Moths and long-legged mayflies appeared, bustling about the heart emblem above the door in the dim glow. Fluttershy went in.
The infirmary was full to capacity. Tanks and aquariums of various sizes were set along the walls on crude wooden tables. There were two small holding pens at the far corners of the room. Fluttershy ducked under a little staircase ascending into the ceiling and stopped by the first tank. She stooped and peered inside, putting the fish down. “Oh, hi there! You guys are looking so much better. Maybe we can be friends?” A cat was lying on its side, convulsing. Several large, throbbing leeches were attached to its belly. “And thank you for being so generous, Felicia. I’ll take you back to Ponyville very soon, with a special reward.” Fluttershy turned and looked into the adjacent tank. “And Mr. Redlegs, you’ve got your strength back!” A huge centipede with a bandage around its middle was intertwined with a squirming young snake, scything at its throat as it fed. Hoarse gasping and whimpers rose from the other tanks. Something moaned again and again in the shadows further in.
Fluttershy paused. Her head bowed as if a heavy weight had been placed about her neck. The floor, she noticed, hadn’t been swept for a long time. She slowly picked up the fish and moved to the Muskrat Family’s tank. She found all five of them, mother, father and three babies, huddled motionless in a pile in one of the corners. A slightly yellowed picture of a butterfly hung over the tank. She dropped the fish on the table. “Wake up dears, I’ve got your dinner!” she said brightly.
She prodded them with her muzzle. “Oh. Oh no. That smell.” She bowed her head and sighed. Very slowly she lifted the limp bodies and distributed them among some of the other tanks. She went to the door and took one last look around to appraise her work. “Your good friend Fluttershy cares about you all very, very much,” she said. “I want all of you to remember that friendship means giving of yourself.” She extinguished the lantern and flew home.
Back at her cottage, she took a quick but wonderfully warm bath and ate a small pile of sunflower seeds. Lighting a candle and gripping the holder in her mouth, she headed to her room, climbed into bed, and curled up. She put the candle on the nightstand and perused her assortment of lotions and creams. “Mmmm, pumpkin almond.” She squirted some of the cream onto a hard-bristled brush, and massaged it into her coat. “La la la la la, la la la la la,” she sang in a familiar melody. Finished, she put down the brush and blew out the candle.
