Where rare hooves dare not tread
As a rule, I loathe the outdoors. Simply loathe them. They’re just so outdoors-ish and there’s dirt everywhere! I mean, yes, that’s where dirt comes from, but I’d much prefer if it remained there. Outdoors.
And not, as it happened, on my hooves. Where it truly did not belong. At all.
I’m already regretting taking this walk. Obviously I should have waited a week or two after everypony wrapped up winter before heading out, but the fact of the matter was that there was simply no time in which to wait! Like usual, the Wrap Up took a whole week rather than a single day, and frankly it was getting to the point where I think I might just have to lodge a complaint with City Hall over this nonsense. Or the Princess! Or… somepony.
I don’t like the outdoors, as a rule, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate them. There is a magic unique to Spring, to fields abloom with flowers and rich colours, rich scents, delightful warmth chasing out the winter chill… all of which were ripe for me to draw inspiration from.
Provided it kept its distance from me.
It shouldn’t have been a problem, of course, but then I underestimated just how dirty, how utterly filthy the path out of Ponyville was. Honestly, would it really hurt somepony to sweep every now and again?
Ah, the sacrifices we make for fashion! Like clean hooves.
But as I said, I simply don’t have time to wait; my spring line needed to be done yesterday and it’s been impossible, simply impossible, to get inspired for spring outfits when everything outside is a dull, sad white of soon-to-be-gone snow.
With a deep, brave, breath, I force myself to stop trying to glare the soil off my hooves, and take an equally brave step forward. Onward, as they say!
The best spring vistas, naturally, weren’t in Ponyville, at least not in the sense I need to inspire me; Sweet Apple Acres’ orchard was closer, certainly, and with all her trees in bloom, I’m sure I could throw something together, but the truth of it was that I had done that last year and I simply cannot be seen as repeating myself. I have standards, after all. As do my clientele, few though they may be.
Still, it seems to be a worthwhile investment of my time; almost as soon as I turn the corner in the path, I’m blessed with an absolutely stunning scene, one that deserved to be captured on canvas or in word. Or, in my case, in fabric and tasteful sewing!
There wasn’t much of a field here, since the forest creeps up into the open area around the path, but it hardly mattered, really. It was still early morning and the shadows cast by their branches only added to the contrast. There were yellows and pinks, delicate splashes of white here and there, tall blue flowers that fought to outdo the sky in their richness, purples of various shades too, accenting and complementing the vibrant green of their stems and newly born leaves. Granted, green wasn’t my colour, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy working with it. Provided it was… properly contained.
Running alongside the forest and dividing the field was a crystal clear brook, bubbling and swishing along, adding its own music to the rustling of plants and the buzzing of newly awakened insects—which would keep their distance if they knew what was good for them!—and the faint ‘eep!’ of a frightened filly.
Wait, what?
Obviously, it’s in my nature to notice and pick up details, or I wouldn’t be as good at what I do, but it still takes me a moment to realize that some of the delicate, pale yellow in the middle of the field wasn’t a particularly dense patch of flowers, but rather a pony of some description. And a terrified one at that.
“Oh, hello there!” I call out. It was only polite, after all. I must have startled her somehow. I waited for a moment, but the hindquarters of the pony just continue to quiver in the middle of the field, without so much as a reply, rude or otherwise. What to do? Part of me wanted to continue on my way, but the truth of it was that I highly doubt that there’d be a more majestic spring vista out there.
And how could I concentrate on the task at hoof if I just left the poor foal out there? Perhaps she was hurt? Or simply couldn’t hear me! It just wouldn’t do to let her lie out there.
On the other hoof, she was right in the middle of the field.
I glance down at my hooves for just moment, letting myself accept that I’ll probably need to check in at the spa before too long, and let out out a long, mournful sigh.
Then I step off the beaten path, into the field.
Immediately, I regret my decision. The flowers, though pretty to look at, seem determined to get in my way, snagging on my poor, perfectly groomed coat and doing Celestia knows what damage to my mane and tail! Oh, the horror! I’ll probably be finding twigs in them when I get home. Twigs! Certainly not something a lady would wear in her mane, not even as an inane fashion statement!
The only mercy is that the ground is relatively easy to walk on—for soil, that is—and it only takes me a few painstaking moments to pick my way over to her; it’s only when I get close that I realize that she’s hardly a filly, but a full grown mare—although she’s quite determined to take up as little space as possible.
But however old she is, she’s still frightened, and it was only polite to see what the matter was.
Besides, my whole ensemble is already ruined, I might as well make the trip worth the cost.
“I-is she gone?” Her voice is remarkably soft and faint, like the touch of a feather on a cheek; she isn’t talking to me, of course, but apparently addressing a rather surly-looking bunny sitting next to her head.
He gives me a very nasty look indeed.
“Pardon me.” I’m not about to be sent packing by a bunny, of all things! I’m made of sterner stuff than that, after all.
The reaction is immediate; she lets out what I can only describe as a short wail and clamps her hooves—followed by her wings—over her face, as if it would make me go away. A pegasus, then.
A-ha! A shy pegasus? Why, it could only be that animal caretaker who had moved into Ponyville a few years ago! I glance over my shoulder and sure enough I can just make out a rather cute—if clearly rustic—cottage on the other side of the babbling brook.
Frustratingly, for the life of me, I cannot remember her name.
“Pardon me, dear,” I start again, moderating my tone to something more appropriate for dealing with my sister when she’d skinned her knees. “I didn’t mean to…” probably for the best not to mention how scared she was, “...startle you. I was just passing by…”
The shaking continues, and if anything, she manages to make herself look even smaller. Perhaps if I talked a bit, I’d be able to soothe the poor thing? Part of me suspected that the very best option might very to just… well… go away, but I can't bring myself to do it. I couldn’t leave her in this state.
“I do hope I’m not trespassing or something like that, I’ve heard this is a particularly beautiful spot in the spring, and I must say that the rumors simply don’t do this place justice, darling! I mean… look at these colours, the sounds! Oh, it’s like a dream and—ouch!”
I glance down at that same irritated bunny from before, who apparently had just used my fetlock for boxing lessons. With his utterly filthy paws. UGH! I’m going to need two long baths after this! And a hooficure!
However, the boorish bunny had a point, I suppose. The pegasus was no nearer getting to her hooves than before. Perhaps a dialogue then? One could only hope that the weight of proprieties might aid me if I did. Plus, it was rather inconsiderate on my part.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, darling, where is my mind today!” I put on my best ‘hello’ smile, although she’s not looking in my direction. “My name is Rarity, I’m from in town? Perhaps you’ve heard of me, I...” No no, Rarity, make it about her! “May I ask what your name is, dear?”
There’s a pause, a short one, but a notable one in her shivering. Then nothing. I wait.
Nothing.
I wait.
And noth—
“I-I’m F-Fluttershy,” her voice is as soft as before, but—to my disbelief I’ll admit, even quieter. “P-pleased to m-meet you, Rarity.”
“Charmed,” I reply, with my smile feeling far more genuine now. Even if she still hasn’t looked at me. “If I remember correctly, you’re an animal caretaker?”
“Um, yes.” The reply comes far more quickly now, and unless it’s my imagination, I daresay she appears to be calming down. “You make dresses?”
“Aha!” I exclaim—far too loudly, far too loudly, Rarity! “Sorry, yes, I do. You’ve heard of me, then?” A bit unusual, perhaps, and I wouldn’t have taken her to be into the fast-paced world of fashion, but stranger things had happened. For example, I would never imagine standing in the middle of a dirty field, holding a conversation with a mare’s hindquarters, but here I was anyway.
I try not to feel too disappointed when she shakes her head. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what she’s doing. Not so easy to tell when her head is covered by all her available limbs.
“No, I… I’ve just seen you around town,” Fluttershy explains, “from… afar.”
I can’t help but quirk my eyebrow at that. I’d be lying if I hadn’t often daydreamed of some pony watching me, some secret admirer who desired me as much as they feared me. On the other hoof, most of those fantasies revolved around a dashing Prince playing the role of the admirer, not a terrified animal caretaker.
“They’re… um… pretty, though?” Fluttershy adds, apparently taking my silence the wrong way. Ah, the poor thing.
“Thank you, dear, it’s always nice to get a compliment,” I smile, for all the good it would do. “Now, Fluttershy, I do wish to apologize again. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, darling?”
“It’s fine,” Fluttershy’s voice is, in some respects, no different than before, but it did seem to be somewhat… stronger.
Or perhaps your imagination is running away with you, Rarity.
“It most certainly is not fine, Fluttershy,” I say with a huff. “I can’t just… leave you here, in the middle of this dirty field! What sort of pony would I be if I did?”
“Um…”
“It was rhetorical, dear,” I add gently. “The least I could do is make sure you get home safely—that is your place over the bridge, isn’t it? You can have a nice bath, maybe something warm and sweet to drink… Mmmm,” Yes, that would be simply lovely, wouldn’t it? I grimace as I glance down at my absolutely grubby hooves. I certainly could use all that now. Or…
“Or perhaps I could invite you to the spa?” I smile and, despite the common sense need for caution, I take a step forward. No, no you ruffian! I’m not going to hurt your Fluttershy! Honestly, I wish my Opalescence took this much interest in my well-being. “It’s quite lovely, you know. Everypony is very friendly.”
“Um… no. No, thank you,” Fluttershy says as my heart drops.
“Are you sure, darling? I…” I suppose it was foolish of me to think she’d be interested in such a thing, given how much of a fright my mere presence caused. On the other hoof, I’d be lying to myself if part of me didn’t think she’d enjoy it. From what little I had seen of her, she certainly had all the looks of a model. But then, who wouldn’t enjoy being pampered like the Princesses we so rightly are, hmm?
Oh.
Idea!
“If you truly don’t wish it, Fluttershy, I won’t make you go… but I could get us a private session if that’s more to your tastes.” A bit… pricey, of course, but if it made the poor thing feel better, well it seemed like a bargain to me.
“Really?” Was that a tone of interest in her voice? I think it might just be, Rarity! “But… isn’t that expensive?”
“Well… I suppose, but I think it’d be worth it, don’t you?” I ask. “Let me worry about the cost, Fluttershy, its my treat.”
“But you’ve only just met me!” Fluttershy exclaims, and to my surprise and pleasure, gets to her hooves and turns around to face me. Her features are as delicate as the rest of her, all soft curves and graceful details, although the expression on them is one closer to concern than anything. She was hardly threatening, even as she stepped closer, but it was nice to finally see her face. “You hardly know me at all.”
“True, but as I said, I’d like to offer it by way of an apology,” I pause, and give her my own bestest, gentlest smile, the sort of smile I might give to a nervous filly whose mother had brought into my shop for her cute-ceañera for a dress. “And I’d like to get to know you.” I let myself pause. “If… that’s alright with you.”
“Um… maybe… but, uh,” Fluttershy glances at the ground—and more specifically at that goonish bunny. “I need to take Angel back first.”
Angel? Really?
“And there’s a few chores I need to do, as well. Looking after the animals,” she adds, as I quirk my eyebrow.
Reluctantly, I take another glance at my horribly scuffed and abused hooves—and try not to think of how much worse of a state my coat and mane must be in. Sigh.
“Well, in that case, would you like an extra set of hooves?” I force myself to say it with a smile, one that probably looks more uncertain than eager. “I don’t know much—” or anything “—about taking care of animals, but I’m sure I could help you somehow, darling.”
“Oh!” Fluttershy flinches and takes half a step backwards. “I… I can’t ask you to do that, Rarity!”
“Of course you can, Fluttershy,” I say with a genuine laugh. She was simply too adorable! “That’s what friends do for one another!”
