Years in the Heart

“Angel?” Fluttershy continued through the forest. “Angel, where are you?”

She walked, and she continued to walk. Deeper. Darker. The trees seemed to grow over her head. Their bark skinned arms reached across forming a canopy of tree limbs that blocked out the light. Creak. Crack. Their gnarled roots twisted through their skin tight tunnels under the ground. Feeling. Hoofsteps. A face unseen was watching. It was a face that only could be seen from the heavens. The forest was watching. Intruder. No. The leaves around whirled around in the subtle breeze. The leaves, the tiny soldiers hovered over the roots, scouting who was trekking this far into their territory.

“Hello?” Fluttershy looked around the seemingly empty forest. She could feel the tiny leaves that rode a breeze paste her hooves. “Angel?” Little did she know, that Angel already found a way out of the forest a long time ago.

She’s still advancing on the path of eternity. Stop. Follow. The air changed, breeze reversed. The soldiers changed their direction. Obeying their invisible master, they followed the foreign mare that headed closer to their sacred grounds. Fall. Fly. They whipped through the larger roots that grew into massive arches in comparison to their miniscule size. The arms of the trees swayed in approval of their green warriors advance. Follow. Alert. The wind howled throughout the forest. The battle cry sounded out through the creaking and wailing bark. Children of timber stirred in their sleep. Their backs arched and stretched into form. Help. Attack. Pairs of yellow eyes twisted open, open, open.

“Who’s there!?” Fluttershy cowered, now aware that something was watching her. She could feel them, those eyes. Those yellow eyes, tinted green, lined a near perfect circle around her. Their misty breath clouded her vision. Fog. there was just fog. “Oh no.” A shadow grew in the fog. A tall figure became more defined. That figure made up of branches stepped forward.

His legs were wood, his ligaments were twigs, and on his stretched face were brows made up of grassy leaves. Beneath his brow, were his luminescent eyes that targeted the quivering Fluttershy. The growl within his log belly screamed a symphony, a tribute to hunger. The sharp stakes that were his claws tapped on a loose stone that rested near his paw. His wolverine shape readied itself to pounce. The timberwolf and his siblings advanced.

“Ahh!” She ran, ran, ran, run, run faster, can’t. Fluttershy took to the air. Zoom, dash, slowing, don’t slow! Cry, for help! “Help!” Her voice echoed across the embedded ears of the trees could hear her cries. Deeper, deeper, she went. Darker, darker, it was getting. The sky had vanished. The path got wider. It was growing beneath her, or was she shrinking? Getting tired. “No, must keep-” Something caught one of her hind legs. “Eep!” She was dragged down to the floor of the path she had been following. Everything happened so fast it was a blur. Pain, there was just pain.

The timberwolf slashed her wings. Droplets of blood and plume of feathers burst into the air taking flight. She didn’t have time to scream, another timberwolf came upon her. It, yes it, this wild beast, it slashed through her legs with it’s splintery claws. More timberwolves came, more slashing. They kept slashing. They wouldn’t-

“STOP!!!” A voice, but whose? It was loud, defined, but strained. The voice was replaced by battle cries of someone, but who?!

Fluttershy looked up. Her eyes were blurred from the loss of blood. She could feel it leaving her. It felt so strange, like water falling through a strainer. The wolves seemed to stop for a moment. Something else came into her view though. There were branches, logs, and twigs flying over her eyes. Splinters and leaves were fleeing the scene as a bright shape came into her peripheral vision. Eyes, not glowing, but brown. Those eyes were sad eyes, old eyes. They were nice and kind, but why are they fading away.

Fluttershy’s eyes were getting heavy as she heard the voice again. “Mith, miths?” The words were incomprehensible. Soon her hearing began to fade as well as all her sight and sensation. Her limbs gave up. What seemed to be left of her wings gave up. Her body had forced her to give up. There was black. Everything disappeared. There was only one thing left, some new sensation. She couldn't quite put her hoof on in, but if she could say, she felt weightless.

Fluttershy opened her dreary eyes. Was she dead? She wasn’t sure. The pain wasn’t sure. She could feel in the universe that something was wrong with her body, but pain was no where in sight. The only thing in sight was white. White bandages covered her body. She remembered feeling pain, but that was a long while ago. She looked around. Her eyes were met by that of a rather peaceful room, a living room, not very big, but still a living room. The wooden walls were barren. Two windows let the waterfalls of morning light flow in. Her bed, or so it seemed was a sofa of some strange sorts. It was soft, and it smelled of pine. Looking around, there was more furniture to be seen. Strange. The furniture was shaped in an unnaturally natural way. The furnishings appeared to be grown.

She nipped at the bandage that was wrapped around her wing. As she did she heard a sound, the floor creaked behind her. When she turned her head to face the sound, she was met by a bright pair of chocolate brown eyes. Those sad, old eyes… Those eyes were stronger than her own. Fluttershy could feel her eyes getting tired again.

She awoke multiple times. Her desire to be conscious was often overpowered by the ropes of weakness that pulled her body into rest. When she would wake up, she could not open her eyes. Sound still came to her in bursts of sickness and headache. That voice that once sounded out like warriors in battle had ceased to a more sincere whisper of single words. She would hear him, she thought it was a him, say, “Sip.” When she sipped, her throat would be greeted by warm and creamy tomato soup that warmed her insides like a blanket made of taste and remedy. He would say, “Pill,” and a small capsule would be placed on her tongue that was flushed down with warm heavenly milk. He only said what he needed to say. It was rather curious. His single words sounded almost forced. This stranger’s words were articulated and enunciated to a seemingly stressful degree. Why was he talking that way?

Fluttershy woke up for another short time. But this time she opened her eyes. Her glassy eyes couldn’t move. Instead they just focused what was in front of their view. Her limbs were covered in dried blood. She was horrified and would have reacted if she could, but her body put a stop to any struggle that might commence. Fluttershy watched as a steady hoof came down on her forelegs with a white wet rag. It was warm, and soothing. She watched the rag move along her legs changing color. The white was hidden as the dried blood departed from her yellow fur. Another smell entered her nose, it was familiar, a plant she herself had used as ointment for her injured furry friends. A cold chill of the smell’s source was poured along her legs and then dabbed with the resurrected white rag which was free from the stains of old blood. A white mesh of cloth greeted the spots where there were very clear injuries. New bandages wrapped, twirled, and sealed her legs up. The hooves that performed this task moved on to her wings. Fluttershy nearly cried, afraid that her wings were too far gone for her ever to fly again. But there they were. Still attached. Only a few bunches of feathers had gone missing. Those would grow back of course. Fluttershy knew she was going to be alright somehow. Physically anyway. She would recover. But, she was still lost.

Again she was awake…

That smell...smoke?

Her eyelids parted. Her pupils shrunk in the warm light that greeted her. A calm fire burned inside of a stone fireplace. It was the one enduring light source that brought warmth to the dark room. It was late. A few stars twinkled like diamonds in the sky through the wood framed windows. All was calm in the night, and all was quiet. Only small sounds disturbed the silence. There were the dainty snores of little creatures, and light pitter patters of the small night creatures were careful not to disturb anyone’s rest. A sigh radiated from the direction of the fireplace.

As her eyes focused, Fluttershy could distinguish a shadow that partly blocked the radiating light. Who was this pony that had saved her from the timberwolves? She partly closed her eyelid as his head turned around. She could see them again. His old eyes glistened in the dark. He sighed again and turned back towards the enchanting flames. Why did he sound so tired? Was he injured? His face seemed clear to her, even though she couldn’t see it. It was kind, it was friendly. It had seen many years, but strength still held on within his soul.

He seemed like a rare stallion. He seemed to be walking on a path guided by a truth made of iron. He was holding on to that solid truth to stay on that path. The path must be long for his eyes to look so old. His breath didn’t match his. It was young and controlled. His head turned again to face Fluttershy. She parted her eyes and just, stared. Those eyes of his were so old, and now they seemed so full of hope.