A simple day like any other.
The song is familiar, but a little different. A quiet hum dances on her lips. It’s a favorite of hers; one she sings almost every day, though not always aloud. Even before her eyes have opened, there is a song in Fluttershy’s heart. It is, after all, a remarkably spacious heart. Twilight would likely have some truism for the song about how ‘The only constant is change’ or some such. Usually, something Fluttershy doesn’t really understand, but she would smile anyway. She doesn’t understand a lot of the things Twilight says, but she still loves to listen to her talk.
Her quiet song slowly ends and her eyes flutter open. The ceiling is as brown and wooden as every other morning. The bedposts and headboard stand just on the edge of her vision, ensuring the pillows have no escape as her foreleg sneaks up from under her checkered, butterfly quilt to pull one into a tight, loving hug. A soft sigh flutters its way through her and she opens her eyes again. The eastern window hangs open. The first whistling song of the morning drifts in from the forest. ‘The Sun is coming,’ they say, ‘Everyone show her your love.’ The first birds are soon joined by more and more and more until the whole world is exalted and anointed by their resplendent and joyous chorus. Another sigh finds life and the lucky pillow gets another squeeze as the first shaft of sunlight finds the wooden ceiling.
She lifts the covers off with a wing and rolls out of bed. Three hooves silently touch the floor. The pillow in her grip is soon placed back in its spot and gently kissed good morning. She bites the covers and pulls them back into place, smoothing them down with her hooves.
Soft hooves find their quiet way to the open window. The forest beyond the rolling grassy hills is vibrant with life. The new leaves on the trees and bushes are the brightest green they will be all year. Wild songbirds flit every which way, searching for food and such now that their morning hymn has been sung. It will be a time still before the other residents of the cottage wake, but that’s just fine with her.
The friendlier floorboards creak good mornings all along her way towards the bathroom. It’s just down the hall since there are only three rooms on the cottage’s upper floor. A quiet splashing greets her from beyond the door. She opens it. The sunlight shining through the open window reflects off the mirror, drowning out the candle sitting on the counter by the sink. Big, magenta eyes stare at her from a big, white bathtub. It’s Rainbow Dash. Her blue coat is all scruffy and her rainbow mane is in terrible disarray. “Hey, Fluttershy. Sorry if I woke you. I worked up a bit of a sweat cleaning up after the big storm yesterday.”
“I was already awake.” Fluttershy smiles. Rainbow works really hard with the Ponyville weather patrol. After hard days, she often comes to Fluttershy's house to use the bath. Rainbow Dash lives in a cloud house, after all, and clouds don’t hold liquid water for very long, so baths aren’t really feasible.
Rainbow Dash scoots to the end of the bath and Fluttershy climbs in. The head goes first and the tail follows, just like always. The water is warm, but not hot. Rainbow doesn’t like hot baths, they make her tired and make her feathers feel weird. “It’s because of the oil on your wings,” she had once tried to explain, but Rainbow wasn’t listening. Rainbow Dash likes to fly, not listen. Fluttershy’s head resurfaces and she makes a gasping sound, which makes Rainbow Dash laugh. It usually does, that’s why she does it. She raises her forehooves above the water and smiles. Rainbow turns around. Fluttershy puts her hooves on Rainbow and begins to massage, starting with the flight muscles around the wings, so strong and so, so tense. Rainbow Dash smells like wind, lightning and rainbows. Fluttershy leans forward, pressing harder into a knotted muscle, and inhales. It’s a lovely smell.
Rainbow Dash hangs her forelegs over the end of the tub and relaxes, murmuring quietly under Fluttershy’s hooves. Fluttershy loves touching Rainbow Dash. She loves the feeling of strong muscles and electricity, and the thick, almost downy fur Rainbow has. Rainbow’s wings sleepily fan out and Fluttershy begins to preen her friend, pulling each feather smooth and even with her lips. There are easier ways, tools and brushes. They are sitting on a table nearby, but they don’t taste like Rainbow Dash. After a time, Rainbow falls asleep, lying over the end of the tub. Fluttershy scooches forward and lays herself ever, ever so lightly over Rainbow. She closes her eyes and sighs. It feels nice to be so close to her friend. Only for a few minutes, though. She still has things to do. She lifts herself carefully up and returns to her side of the tub.
Rainbow’s wings are perfect and shiny, standing tall above her, but her coat, mane and tail still need attending. She climbs from the bath and retrieves her coat brush from the counter, strapping it to a hoof. Ever so gently, she begins to smooth out Rainbow’s fur, drawing the sky blue fluff windward. From muzzle to face to chin to neck to chest to forelegs, she makes her friend’s coat shine. Returning to the warm water, nose first and tail last, she draws the brush down Rainbow’s back, then down her sides, then over her muscular rump, all the better to kick clouds with, and finally Rainbow’s strong hind legs. Now all smooth and clean. This brings her, naturally, to Rainbow’s rainbow. Her friend’s long, beautiful, tail is tangled and messy from work and wind. A lot of ponies think Rainbow Dash is a lazy pony, but, in truth, she works at least half as hard as the hardest working earth ponies. Rainbow works all day and all night, so she has to sleep when other ponies are awake. Without Rainbow Dash, the weather would never be as tame and predictable as it is.
She lifts Rainbow’s tail, holding it at the dock, and starts to brush. It’s slow and delicate work, removing the tangles without waking her friend. With brush and wings and mouth, she tames the wayward tail and puts it in a loose braid so it won’t tangle itself again as it drifts in the bath. Rainbow will shake the braid out when she wakes. She always does. The mane is harder; Rainbow has very sensitive ears. Rainbow likes when they are touched, but she would never tell you so. Fluttershy takes her place atop her friend again, pressing softly into the now smooth fur, and begins to brush. The mane is longer than usual, and strong. Rainbow has been using the shampoo she gave her. She daydreams of a day when Rainbow has a mane as long as Fluttershy’s, and she can brush it for hours, soaking in the smell. The mane is smooth and hangs over one side of Rainbow’s head. It will be dry soon.
She climbs from the bath again, pulling the plug to drain the water. Rainbow might be there for a while, and she wouldn’t want her to catch a cold. She puts the brush on the counter and retrieves a towel from the rail by the door. She rubs herself until her fur is almost as fluffy as Rainbow’s. She takes a dainty seat on the stool by the sink and takes up the brush again. It has a few colorful hairs in it, and a couple specks of dirt, from Rainbow Dash. She smiles. With long, slow strokes she gently eases the little tangles from her mane. Shining turquoise ringed in bright yellow looks back at her from the mirror. Rarity often speaks about Fluttershy’s fur, and mane, and generally all of her, saying how lovely she is, and how naturally beautiful she is, and how Rarity wishes she could be so beautiful with so little effort. What Fluttershy always thinks, but never says, is that Rarity is all those things too, she just has to let it free. Fluttershy is sometimes sad for Rarity, for she cannot see her own beauty, but she loves her all the same. Her mane and tail are all smooth and perfect now, and she returns the brush to the drawer. They were never very tangled to begin with. A tiny kiss for a sleeping rainbow and she’s ready to start the day.
The boards on the stairs creak with joy, and she makes sure to touch each of them so none feel left out. The kitchen is to one side of the lower floor and the sitting room is the rest. The sitting room is slightly lower than the rest of the floor, just a step down. Everything flows there, all the animals, all the friends… all the love. But she is in the kitchen, the animals are waking and will be hungry soon. Groans and yawns and Angel rise to greet her. Little Angel Bunny, so insistent, helps her prepare the food. Food for all her animal friends. There are nuts for the squirrels and seeds for the mice and mice and squirrels for the hawks and so much more. Angel helps with it all, and he gets the best for it: a tall and lavish salad with lettuce and carrots and cherry tomatoes. But first, first it’s time to ring the chime. She lowers her face and lifts Angel up to the triangle chime by the kitchen door. He rings it loud and startles some of the others. He likes to cause trouble. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he just likes to see how others can rise above adversity, like he once did. Like she so often must. That’s most of why he stays with her. To watch her struggle, to watch her triumph. In one great leap, he is on the kitchen table, eating his salad. She smiles. She is glad to have him. His rudeness and aggression have pushed her through many troubles. Troubles that nice and happy things couldn’t fix. He is nice sometimes too, but only when that is all that will help.
Her wings take her above the stampede of creatures. She stays for a moment and watches them eat. Chaos can be a beautiful thing, sometimes. Sometimes. Chaos lives here too, but he does not eat with them this morning. He is shy, too, sometimes. Unsure of himself. He hides it well, but she can see, she knows it well. Her own food, always the last, is different every day. It waits on the kitchen counter, by the wide, steel sink. It’s a sandwich today, with wry bread, rainbow pickles, blue lettuce and polka dot swiss cheese. Chaos is nice to her, and she smiles. It tastes perfectly normal, save the honey filling in the pickles, and she smiles wider and giggles softly. It’s a good joke, and a nourishing one. When the time comes for the dishes to be cleaned she finds two otters in the sink. Their mother choked on a spiny fish last week and Fluttershy saved her. The poor thing still has a little difficulty breathing sometimes, but she should be healed soon enough. The boys are cleaning the dishes and Angel is watching them. He will keep them safe, that’s what he’s best at.
When she makes for the door to the lovely morning, Harry the Bear grunts and waves. She waves back and smiles for him. He is a good friend. He is the one who led her to Ponyville oh so long ago. He and Angel. Angel wanted to watch her find her own way, watch her save herself, but Harry is the one animal Angel will bow to, and Harry said to lead.
The shimmering springtime blinds her for the briefest moment when she steps out the door. The low and rising sun shines on all but her hooves and reflects off the wet, grassy hills and the laughing stream and the droplets on tree leaves and every other thing and gives to the whole world a fuzzy glow, like a dream. She smiles and invites the air into her lungs, crisp and clean and wet and sweet. Just like her sleepy Rainbow. Each step on the cobbled path makes a chipper clop and tells the world that she is here. She leaves the path, as often she does, to say good morning to her garden. The wet ground squishes beneath her hooves, cool and inviting, and the sun warms her side, bright and hopeful. She finds a few weeds here and there, mingling with her rhubarb and cabbage and butternut squash, and she takes them away from the earth. She will save them for later, some of them taste quite good. It took her a long while to learn about gardening. Without Applejack’s help, she may never have learned it at all. Applejack is a very smart pony, though most don’t understand just how smart she is. Applejack learns through doing, not reading, so avid readers are often blinded to her earthly wisdom.
Fluttershy remembers the first time she met Applejack very clearly, sitting in school not understanding what was being said. Her parents moved to Ponyville after Fluttershy got her cutiemark, and her new school was a lot easier for her than the one in Cloudsdale, but she was too new to the earth to understand some of the lessons they taught. Applejack found her after school ended, head hung low and long legs moving slowly, and spoke to her. Fluttershy couldn’t find her words, but Applejack had enough for them both. She took Fluttershy to her farm and showed her everything she didn’t understand, explaining every plant and every tool and every kind of dirt. She met Applejack’s brother that day too. He was, and still is, quite like her, but his eyes had a sadness that frightened her. He is the strongest pony in the world, because he has to carry the world, and his sisters. Applejack helped her make a garden at home so she could practice the things she learned. She practiced a lot, because Applejack would help. Fluttershy sometimes thinks to make more mistakes, so Applejack will have to help her more. She is a good gardener now, though, and Applejack knows it.
Mister Raccoon only has one eye, after his fight with a wild eagle, and one of his hind legs gives him trouble, but he is happy. He helps in the garden. He has nimble fingers and his one eye is very sharp. He is learning so he can have a garden of his own one day. She hopes he will live that long. He is old, so very old, and he knows he won’t last much longer, but he loves her, and she loves him. His death will be a happy thing, for he has lived a good and full life. What more can one want? They work together through the vegetable garden, through the flowers. They refill the bird feeders and clean the nests and feed the chickens. The birds sing to them, and they sing along. Mister Raccoon sings well, he has a lot of practice. He is the only raccoon the birds will trust. She must go now, and she tells him goodbye. He waves and smiles and returns to his garden. It has always been his garden.
The sky invites her. She is not a strong flyer, and the sky knows, so it helps her along with gentle wind and warm currents. The cottage grows small, but not too small. If she lets herself go too high she might get lost on the breeze. Again. The rolling hills guide her, east and east, to a hill that’s slightly taller than its friends. A little square checked red and white, and two little spots, one black, one pink, tell her where to land. Pinky Pie helps her to the ground with a hug. Pinkie brought balloons today, tied tightly to the handle of a wicker picnic basket. “Hey there, Fluttershy! Glad you could join us!”
“Good morning, Pinkie Pie.” Fluttershy smiles. She was one of the first ponies Pinkie Pie met when she first came to town. Fluttershy and Applejack were working in Fluttershy’s little garden when a filly made of laughter and a stallion made of stone walked into town. They didn’t talk much that day. They talk a lot now, though. They have picnics once or twice a week. This week is Pinkie’s turn to bring the food. Pinkie is a good baker, especially considering it’s not her special talent. Most ponies would think a pony as mellow as Fluttershy would have a hard time being near a pony as energetic as Pinkie Pie, most ponies would be right. But for Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie specifically, it’s not uncomfortable at all. Pinkie Pie loves everypony, and so does Fluttershy, and that’s more than enough to keep them both happy.
On the picnic blanket, another sits, as calm as the endless sky. “Good morning.” Smiling She Greets the Horizon, or as she is better known, Candymane, smiles. She is a changeling, all black and shimmery. Her long, membranous mane, tail and wings, vivid red and translucent and whole, glisten in the sunlight. She is beautiful, like her sisters. Many ponies are afraid of changelings, but Candymane has lived in Ponyville since long before the ‘Renegade Queen’, as Smiling calls her, attacked Canterlot. She is not the only one. It’s only here, far from town and in the company of trusted friends that she lets the mask fall. Her black legs are long and smooth. Not a single hole, not even a dent, mars her perfection. It’s only the hungry ones, she has told Fluttershy, who have holes. Her mane, tail and wings, likewise, are without imperfection. as smooth and fine as fresh cut glass.
Fluttershy hugs her “Good morning,” and Pinkie Pie joins too. Fluttershy’s heart feels a little lighter now. The stormy seas of emotion calming just a bit, just a bit. She smiles, and sighs.
She remembers, rather more clearly than she would prefer, two days after the attack when she and Candymane went to Celestia. The god of gods, Celestia who Sits on High, Voice of the Sun, smiled softly and greeted them. “Hello, Fluttershy. What may I do for you?”
Fluttershy hesitated, as she is often wont to do, but still spoke clearly and, somewhat, strongly. “My friend here is Candymane. She asked me to help her request political asylum.” Adrenaline burned through her veins and her heart roared in her ears.
Celestia frowned. “From where and for what cause?” The wings of the goddess stiffened slightly, hovering just off her sides, and her mane waved just the slightest bit faster.
Candymane bowed low, her snout nearly touching the carpet of Celestia’s sitting room. “I seek asylum from the changelings of the emerald coast.” In a flash of red fire, the pony was gone, replaced by fear and hope and chiton. “I am a child of mother Cilia of the painted desert. I fear that, after the Renegade Queen’s attack, my kind will be feared and hunted. I—”
A quiet hum from Celestia killed the words in Candymane’s throat. “You will stay here, undisguised, for a month, and teach me everything there is to be known about changelings. Then I will make my decision.”
Candy whimpered, but stood strong. “As you command.”
“She will need love.” Fluttershy nearly jumped at the sound of her own voice, but she did not stop. “A month is way too long to go hungry.”
Celestia’s frown deepened. Her critical eye impaled Fluttershy. “How long have you known her, exactly?”
“Thirteen years.”
She feels a tear dampening the fur beneath her eye. Smiling She Greets the Horizon smiles and nuzzles her, smooth black and fuzzy yellow, and whispers into her ear. “Only gladful things, my dear. Only gladful things to grace this angel mine. For she deserves no less, and she deserves no less.” Another nuzzle and the hug drifts apart. One has a full heart, but two still have empty bellies. Pinkie Pie dances around her friends and opens the basket with a grand flourish. The intoxicating smell of fresh bread drifts across the meadowy hill while Pinkie sets out the plates. Two rolls for each, two small jars of jam and one of honey, a dandelion cucumber salad and a tall glass of apple juice, and, of course, a cupcake. They three eat and talk and smile. The sun ascends, the clouds drift, the grass and flowers dance, a Rainbow darts away in the distance.
Birds and bunnies and small meadow things gather around. Fluttershy invites them in. Angel Bunny is among them, and curls up beside Fluttershy to rest. Three heads, and more and more, all turn to the west. Rainbow Dash is practicing. Twisting and swirling and darting through the sky. She is so beautiful. Fluttershy sighs, Pinkie giggles, Smiling She Greets the Horizon smiles. They know how she feels, and she knows they know. She is safe here, with these friends. She is free to love whoever she loves and show it. That is Pinkie’s gift to her. That is why the horizon is greeted with a smile. Before long and far too soon, Rainbow Dash finds a cloud and disappears. Fluttershy lays her head down and rests. A cackling Rainbow darts through her dreams, teasing and taunting and kissing, and, and, and…
The gentle kiss of the sun pulls her eye open. The soft snoring of one little bunny turns her ears. She can hear the slight wheezing from the scar tissue in his lungs. She never learned the cause of the gash in his side, or why he couldn't speak as clearly as the other animals. He had once tried to tell her, but the words wouldn't come to him. She kisses him on the forehead and stands. He will feel her love when he wakes. Smiling She Greets the Horizon taught her how to leave some behind. She leaves much on Rainbow Dash. Maybe some day. Maybe some day.
The chores are done, her belly is full, and the wind is calling her again. Even though she flies so little, even though she is so weak, she is still a pegasus, and the sky will always love her. Above, above and west, and west, the cottage drifts below. Past the stream and path and trees. Cobble finds her hooves. The short path to Ponyville. She likes to walk the path. It is an earth pony path, and would be sad if she neglected it. It tells her stories sometimes, stories from long before she was born. Stories of apples and age. Stories of a farmer and the Sun.
Houses pass, tall and beautiful. Thatched and clean, and every one a little different, built by different hooves at different times, but all share a common theme: love. Hearts bedeck every structure in the town. Every statue and fountain. The town was founded on love and it thrives on love. The streets are empty. It’s the day before market, and every pony is at home, making things and double checking supplies and counting their bits. She likes the days before things. When the town is as quiet as she is. It makes her smile. Today she smiles wider. She is on her way to the home of her newest pony friend, Twilight Sparkle. They are having tea today. The tree is tall and wide. It resembles the trees of Everfree, but nicer, and older. The verdant boughs shimmer in the sunlight and flutter in the breeze. The infinite motion draws sharp edges around the many unmoving windows and the two high balconies, like islands of stone in a frothing river. Two un-ponies are having lunch next door. And to the river she drifts, across the market square that will be so busy tomorrow, past the stones splintered last Nightmare Night by Princess Luna’s frustration at the town’s misunderstanding. Oh Luna, The Storm's Wrath, Eater of Nightmares, Blade of the Moon. More fearsome a pony ne’r ever could there be. Some day, some day Fluttershy will get to know her. Pierce the terror of The Nightmare and find the grace of the moon. Someday, but not today.
The door in the tree is already open, waiting for a guest, or a curious learner. The tree, you see, the house, is also the town’s library. It is full from floor to ceiling, across every wall, with books. Books new and old and ancient. Lost tomes from the first days of Equestria have been found hiding in dark corners and behind false walls. Legends say the tree was already here when Clover the Clever first came to this land, empty and waiting for a worthy wizard to see it’s potential. Perhaps Celestia remembers if that is true. Laughter like silver bells greets her when she draws near. Rarity has already arrived. Fluttershy taps her hoof on the floor as she steps through the door and her friends turn, smiles growing when they see her. They are sitting at the small table in the middle of the room, right beneath the gilded sunburst on the ceiling. The strange wooden horse head statue is in the corner.
“Good afternoon, Fluttershy.” Twilight Sparkle gestures to the third stool by the table with a nod of her head and Fluttershy flits to it.
“Good afternoon, Darling. Lovely you could make it.” Rarity closes her eyes for a moment and her smile fills the whole room. She is so beautiful. The dark mauve of her mane reflects slightly off her pearl white coat, tinting it slightly pink where it falls beside her in perfectly sculpted curves. It is only a moment before a pudgy little, apron-clad purple dragon struts from the kitchen, a tray of three teacups balanced on one hand and a teapot in the other.
Fluttershy smiles for him. “Hello, girls. Hello, Spike.”
He smiles back. “Hey, Fluttershy. Nice to see you.” He is here for Rarity, though. He loves her. She knows, but she doesn’t know. Fluttershy can feel the thrum of love surging off of him as he sets the table and pours her tea. Dragons are creatures of absolutes. If a dragon dislikes you, it hates you with every ounce of its existence. If a dragon likes you, it will protect you even with its last dying breath. If a dragon loves you… The changelings outside are surely quite well fed. When he is older and wiser he will tell her. Fluttershy will watch. Angel has taught that there are times when it is better to not meddle. The bond will be stronger for them, and it should only be a few more years. Time means so little to a dragon.
Two horns and two wings, all together take the first sip of tea, and the first words begin to flow. Spike brings fruit and scones and more tea, from time to time, as the three ponies talk, occasionally adding his little piece, his unique perspective. He is as good a friend as a pony could want, if still a bit young and naive. He has moments, though, moments that hint at something old and wise hiding somewhere in the deeper parts of his mind. Fluttershy sometimes wonders how long his egg was at Celestia’s school, being bombarded by half controlled magic, waiting for the right wizard to hatch it. Waiting for Twilight Sparkle. The conversation wanders like a Fluttershy on the breeze and finds its end, in one convenient absence, on Spike, and his feelings for Rarity. She thinks it will fade with time, as a pony’s would, but he is not a pony. Fluttershy reminds her, ever so gently, and Rarity considers. Maybe she has meddled too much, it is so hard for her to watch her friends be less that they can be, but the moment passes and Spike returns to clean the table. Rarity watches him return to the kitchen. Maybe she has meddled just enough.
She returns to the town square and sits by the fountain. The two at the cafe are talking and laughing animatedly, so full of energy, so full of love. The water is singing and she hums along for a while. It’s a happy song. A shadow passes over and she looks up. A small cloud is drifting by. She looks closely, but it hides no Rainbows. Slowly and happily, she stands and begins the not short but not long walk home. A very few ponies are about now, their preparations for tomorrow done, and they greet her as she passes. She greets them back with a smile and a wing, though she doesn't remember some of their names. Pinkie Pie knows all their names, all their everythings. Pinkie has an amazing mind.
Before too long, but not too soon, her dainty hooves clippa clop across the old, stone bridge over the stream and up the cobble to her cottage. The door is still open and she smells the familiar smells of so, so many animals. They are all out and about, frolicking in the forest and the meadows and generally avoiding Angel. She loves her animal friends, but sometimes it’s nice to be alone. It is still a little warmer inside than out, Harry made a fire in the hearth, but it since died and only embers remain. From her modest bookshelf, which Twilight has still not managed to overfill, she picks a large book. It is one of the ones Twilight gave her, a book of poetry from The Age of Three Kingdoms. They are long and hard to read, but beautiful in a way that modern poems can’t be. When next her path crosses Luna’s, she hopes she will understand her better, and maybe, just maybe, be able to speak the same. First she must overcome her fear, but, as Applejack once taught her, there’s no harm in being ready.
The room darkens, oh so slowly, while she reads. A firefly finds a perch on her ear to light her book, and she thanks him. The animals are returning, but they are quiet. They don't want to interrupt her reading. After a time, she returns the book to its place and wanders to the kitchen. The song is back again, and the stove is humming along. Fresh vegetables, broccoli and carrots and green peppers and more, find their way to the cutting board, then to the pan, and Fluttershy dances along. She loves cooking. Soy sauce and rice noodles join in the dance, and dinner is soon complete. From the pan to the plate to the table. It’s salty and scrumptious and she hums in appreciation. While she eats, the animals all find their places to sleep. Slowly, Harry lumbers back into the sitting room and rekindles the fire. His cave is being renovated, so he’s sleeping here. He’s installing a wood stove and bamboo floors. He is a peculiar bear.
The food is gone, her belly full, and she cleans the dishes and leaves them on the rack to dry. It has been a lovely day, but it’s time for bed. Up the stairs and through the door she steps into her bedroom, but she is not alone. Rainbow Dash is perched in the open window, glowing in the moonlight. “What are you doing here, Rainbow?”
Rainbow blushes and rubs her neck. “Um, I can’t find my house. I think the storm blew it somewhere, but I didn't realize until it was already dark.” Fluttershy smiles and climbs into bed, holding the covers up with a wing. Rainbow grins and joins her, snuggling close. Maybe someday is today. Maybe. Maybe…
Author's Note
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