Willingly
12/27/13
A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fanfiction, authored by InMyMind.
My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic was created by Lauren Faust, and is copyrighted by Hasbro. I do not claim any rights to their intellectual property.
Available on Google Docs, at: http://tinyurl.com/myxdy69
Thanks to aJVL, for providing my cover art.
Thanks to Horse Voice, for proof reading
Propter Deum
“And what are you passionate about?” Fluttershy sneered. “Birthday cake? Party hats? I can’t believe that the two most frivolous ponies in Ponyville are trying to tell new Fluttershy how live her life when they are throwing their own lives away on pointless pursuits that nopony else gives a flying feather about!”
The Whitetail Woods grew perched upon the shale hills of the Andriodech. They were to the near west of Ponyville, but their rough nature made them a rare haunt. The birds, however, didn't mind the rocks, nor did the many whitetailed rabbits that gave the forest its name.
New Fluttershy traveled to these hills, kicking up dust and grumbling all the way. They saw her as a tool to be used, and she knew they didn’t care for her. When Pinkie accidentally glued her alligator's toothless mouth shut, who did she seek out? When Rarity’s spoiled cat once caught and ate that sickly mouse, who did she whine for? New Fluttershy shuddered. She had been tempted to feel sorry for the rodent. Once Opalescence hacked out its chewed remains, those feelings quickly left.
New Fluttershy heard a muffled squeak. She glanced up, and caught a glimpse of two shaggy squirrels. They chased one another in a frantic dance through the curving branches of the beech and maple forest. As quickly as they appeared, they vanished into the leaves. But New Fluttershy could still hear them scream and chatter to one another. Such was the way of the world, she knew. Everypony wants something that somepony else has. And everypony always has something to give. If not through force, than through kind words and good acts. New Fluttershy gripped over the irony. What did the world know about kindness?
New Fluttershy closed her eyes, then pawed at the ground. Minutiae broke broke up. Free from the earth, bits of dust rose up and were blown away by the wind. To other lands, or to other places. Away from New Fluttershy. She sighed, and continued onwards down the path.
New Fluttershy felt a wave of nostalgia. She ran this same trail every autumn, during the annual Running of the Leaves. Ponies entered the desolate forest once a year, and left it quickly after. Was that a kindness? Did the dwelling creatures object to this invasion of their home? Or perhaps over the years they had grown accustomed to the ponies and their strange traditions. There was, after all, a reason Equestria had but a single forest named ‘free’.
Whitetail was a calm place, filled with simple wonders. But it was not a safe place. There were hidden gullies and sharp cliffs hidden throughout the forest, covered over as if the trees were residents and the forest their home. As if to say ‘don’t mind the mess, unexpected guest’. But the path was safe. At any rate, it was supposed to be. The Ponyville Society for the Preservation of Nature made sure of that. One week before the Running of the Leaves, they sent out several distinguished volunteers to remove the branches and stones that had fallen on to the path during the summer rainstorms. The volunteers had names like ‘Erithacus Rubecula’, and ‘Lophophanes Cristatus’.
‘Some job they had done’, New Fluttershy reflected as she remembered the chaos of last year's Running. For all its good intentions, the Society was plagued by a certain lack of drive. It didn’t matter who was to blame, but New Fluttershy suspected this milieu might have come about from the works of Daisy, or perhaps Lily. Neither mares were influential in the Society, nor were they very smart. But, by Celestia, they knew how to get their way. New Fluttershy respected that. If somepony says ‘no way’, show them that’s not okay.
}-|-{
The late afternoon breezed picked up, and picked up dried leaves. They spun, as if strung to the string of a crazed weaver. New Fluttershy observed them, as they danced their Agbekor.
New Fluttershy was not singing, nor was she crying. She did not feel fury or fervor, she was not in a fever and burning with an angry passion. New Fluttershy was hot; she was wet with sweat. The sloping boughs of Whitetail kept the path free from sunlight, though the air was warm and moist.
With a spurt of energy, New Fluttershy quit her slow walk, and galloped to take respite among the twisted roots of a lively old oak. The tree laughed and sighed and groaned in the wind and at its poor jokes. Gifted as she was, New Fluttershy remained ignorant of the words and whispers around her; she could not speak the tribal tongue of the Whitetail trees. Yet if she could, she would not have cared. For now, the volatile Element cared for little.
Pushover. That was a word that New Fluttershy hated, because for all her life it had followed and enveloped her. You can hardly fly, you can’t hardly speak, it costs hardly more than twenty bits. Hand them over because you are a pushover. Old Fluttershy hated all of that. And now that she had hid from pushover, she realized it had a bitter taste reminiscent of unripe blackberries.
The waters of Ponyville were sweet, and they washed away the unspoken past of everypony who cared to let them. But Old Fluttershy did not change; she did not care to let them change her. Old Futtershy found herself surprised to be surprised. It was all surprising, so she stood to her hooves and unfurled her wings. With a few flaps, she shook the dust off her coat and from her pinions. Her short rest had let her dry, in body and mind. So she continued on.
}-|-{
Down the path. Past the stones that shouldn't have been there, but she forgave them. New Fluttershy felt a pain in her heart. But this pain felt sweet and soft; it felt to lift her. This opposed the blistering, agitated emotion that once roiled through under her vanilla coat. That had hurt deeply, and wanted to hurt Fluttershy. As she walked through the forest, she felt hot and unpleasant. As she left, she felt refreshed. And cleansed.
Clean, not like the absence of grime. Clean, like the presence of warm sunlight on the back.
