Fluttershy laid in the meadow on the forest's edge. Soon her friend would join her there. She'd arrived early, because time was important to her friend and lateness was rude. Of all things, she couldn't imagine being rude, not to anypony, yet alone a friend. But the real reason she came early was a tiny bit selfish. She loved coming to the meadow. It was the place where should could let her cares drift away, like dandelion seeds on the breeze.
Yet today she'd come not only for herself, but for her friend, a friend who needed a place like this so much more than she. That's why they'd arranged to meet this very afternoon a week ago.
“I hope you won't take this the wrong way,” she'd told her friend, “but you don't look at all well.”
“Yes, I know,” her friend said. “I've been so frazzled with all the work, the deadlines, the stress.”
“May I suggest something that might help?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“A relaxing afternoon. The two of us someplace peaceful and quiet. I know a perfect spot in the meadow. It's ever so much better than going to the spa. You look so tired. Why don't we go tomorrow?”
“No, no, no. Tomorrow's out of the question, and the weekend promises to be hectic, too.”
“Monday afternoon, perhaps?”
“Again, I can't. I'll be busy all day with preparations for Tuesday's trip.”
“Oh, I see. How about Wednesday?”
“I'm returning Wednesday evening on the seven o'clock train—way too late. The soonest would be next Thursday.”
“Yes, I suppose it would. Next Thursday afternoon then—no later than two. Promise me you'll make the time, please? You're wearing yourself out, and I'm… um… worried about you. Promise you'll come?”
“I promise.”
Next Thursday arrived at last, and now, Fluttershy waited, basking in the autumn sun and enjoying the feel of soft grass against her side. Her friend would come, of that she was certain, for she never broke promises. All Fluttershy had to do was wait. And what an ideal place to wait. Nopony asked you questions, no jarring noises assaulted your ears, no hectic demands drained the hours, and no worries pressed upon your mind. The meadow was a distant island, isolated from the bustle of life.Once her friend had spent time here, Fluttershy was confident she would feel the same. But her friend was not yet here, so she waited.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in the smell of the grass, the flowers, and the earth. She held it for a moment, letting every nuance flow over her before opening her eyes again. Now she was ready to see the meadow.
An imperceptible breeze carried the scent of the forest pines to the tall grasses around her. The heads of the Timothy-grass bobbed on their slender stalks, blossoms long gone, now heavy with seed. Flocks of feasting sparrows would lighten the grasses' burden, leaving browning remains to poke through the coming winter landscape. A gust brought the hint of those colder days to come, but this afternoon, the sun soaked into her coat.
Fluttershy's gaze turned skyward. High over the forest, thin bands of translucent clouds stretched across the dark blue. Rainbow called them mares' tails. They were so very high, where the cold kept anypony from flying. She didn't worry about flying or the cold, for she was content to watch and admire them from her spot in the grass. The high winds stretched the bands into long filaments, connecting them. No longer tails to her, they became foam gliding on the surface of a slow stream. Do fish watch the foam floating above them? she wondered.
From behind her came a soft click, followed by another. A gray grasshopper landed in the grass by her side. Fluttershy placed her hoof under the grass blade and nudged the insect. It obliged and crawled on to her with its mechanical legs. She giggled and brought it close to her face.
“Hello, friend. How are you today?”
Wobbling antennae acknowledged her existence. Other than that, it made no movements, nor offered any indication of understanding her words. She waited.
“Hmm? Nothing to say?”
The grasshopper remained motionless, a gray stone gripping her hoof.
“Not much for talking, I see. Well, neither am I.” The insect faced her, the dark mosaic of its eyes revealing no intention or emotion. After turning around by degrees, it crawled to the edge of her hoof and halted.
“Oh, well, I guess it's good-bye then.” A delicate hoof-toss cast the grasshopper into the air, and it whirred off, landing precariously in the nearby grass. It wrapped its legs around a narrow stem, where it clung, contemplating a course of action behind its inscrutable face, before concluding a sturdier perch must lay above. The stalk bowed as the grasshopper scrabbled higher, stopping at last beneath the flower head. Satisfied in its security, it hung upside down, no farther from the ground than when it started.
Fluttershy smiled and shook her head before letting her eyes drift back to the meadow. Few flowers remained so late in the year, and their scarcity made those that lingered conspicuous. Infrequent clumps of bright gold punctuated the fading green. Rarer still were the bright blue blossoms that had blanketed the meadow less than a month ago.
Near a distant patch of yellow, she spotted two butterflies. The pair darted amongst the flowers and moved off, tumbling about each other in a chaotic swirl. They rose and continued their disorganized acrobatics above the waving grasses. She fancied them young lovers engaged in a courtship dance, or perhaps an old couple bickering over where next to dine. A capricious breeze carried them out of sight, rendering her speculation moot.
She glanced back to where the grasshopper had dangled on the stem. The insect had disappeared.
Little remained of autumn's pleasures, and winter would soon leave the meadow uncluttered by the lives of grasshoppers and butterflies. The wintering birds would be her lone companions then, darting between the grasses, seeking seeds overlooked in months passed. Despite the meadow's emptiness, melancholy thoughts never entered her mind. The meadow needed solitude while it slept beneath winter's blanket of snow. Through the short days and long nights it rested, until its annual friend awoke it with warm sun and gentle rain. Then it would arise refreshed, once again alive with all the welcome distractions missing in those quiet months.
In an open patch up the path, a plump, brown rabbit emerged, intently foraging in the low vegetation. Fluttershy watched it nibble one plant after another, its nostrils quivering as it searched for a late season delicacy. Preoccupied by its hunt, it failed to notice her. An irrepressible grin spread across her face.
“Boo!” she cried.
The startled rabbit spun about, its gleaming, black eyes searching the edge of the meadow, its body tense, ready to flee at the sight of the mysterious attacker. Fluttershy remained silent and still in the grass, but the rabbit's keen eyes spotted her. It sat on its haunches and stretched its neck to examine the teasing pegasus. Its whiskers twitched furiously. Discovered, she waved to it. The rabbit replied in kind. With safety restored, it returned to the pressing business of its stomach.
Head down, it rooted about, sampling each new discovery before rejecting it. At last, it found a plant with an agreeable taste, perhaps some sweet clover. Whatever the rabbit had found, it devoured with total concentration.
The rabbit froze with ears bolt upright. Fluttershy had heard the distant rustling too. Before she could reassure the nervous creature, it bounded off, disappearing with a whoosh into the tall grass.
She swiveled her ears to listen to the hoof-steps working their way through the meadow. Impatient, hurried hooves approached, their advance broken by tentative pauses.
Her friend had arrived.
“I'm over here,” Fluttershy said, but her eyes never left the patch where the rabbit had dined.
The visitor's pace quickened, and the sound of somepony crashing through the dry grass grew louder.
“Ah, there you are,” Twilight Sparkle said. She blew at a long piece of grass that seemed determined to tickle her nose. “Sorry I'm a bit late.”
Fluttershy didn't reply, but tapped the ground beside her twice. Twilight went and stood on the spot.
“You see, Spike couldn't find a volume they'd talked about at the conference the other day, and when he finally did, it was too interesting to put down. It's all about how—”
Fluttershy tapped the ground again. Twilight stood dumbfounded, eventually divining the gesture's meaning.
“Oh, sorry.” Twilight sat.
Fluttershy looked at her and said, “No, all the way.”
Twilight laid down in the grass. “Ah, yes,” she said. “Quite nice.”
They laid side by side, gazing into the meadow now awash in the low rays of the sun. Neither spoke. The breeze put the grass in to waves of motion. Minutes passed. Overhead, a group of swallows sped towards the forest.
“So”—Twilight straightened herself—“how do I start?”
“You'd started,” Fluttershy said as she watched nothing in particular. “But now you've stopped.”
Twilight paused and said, “Oh.” She gazed intently where her friend looked, squinting and searching for an object of interest. Something transfixed the pegasus, but it eluded her. Twilight bit her lip. Her tail lashed at the grass. She glanced at Fluttershy.
“Should we talk about something?” Twilight asked.
Turning to her, Fluttershy replied with a patient smile.
Twilight opened her mouth, closed it, and then sighed. “No, I guess we don't have to.”
Satisfied, Fluttershy raised her head to watch the clouds over the forest. Twilight did likewise.
“Ah, cirrus uncinus,” Twilight said, “the mares' tail. The temperature at their altitude is near minus forty, making it impossible to fly among them, even in a flight suit. Why, if you could stand the cold, the air's so rarified you'd find it difficult to—”
“Twilight—” Fluttershy turned to her again.
“Yes?”
Fluttershy held her hoof in front of her mouth. “Shush.”
“This is impossible.” Twilight's lips were pinched together. “I don't understand what I'm supposed to do.”
“Don't do anything,” Fluttershy said. “Just be.”
