“Okay, come on, now . . . don’t be afraid . . . nice and slow . . . .”
It seemed almost like déjà vu for Fluttershy as she walked slowly, backwards, down the middle of the road in Ponyville. She crouched down to stay level with the little duck family she helped guide to the lake, and her voice and her steps were equally gentle and calm.
“There, there, it’s okay, we’re almost out of town . . . Feathers, be careful, don’t trip, and Bill, keep an eye on Mama . . . Quacky, single file now, and Howard, don’t get lost . . . .”
Dotting either side of the road, ponies glanced as Fluttershy and the ducks went by, some fawning over the ducklings’ infectious cuteness. Fluttershy smiled as they went by; seeing other ponies’ days brightened gave her a warm feeling inside.
Animals always make me happy, she thought. Nice to know they can make other ponies happy, too—
“Oof!”
She felt her behind bump into something, and she stopped, the ducks piling up in front of her as they stopped too. The feeling of déjà vu suddenly felt stronger and more foreboding, and Fluttershy’s heart sped up a bit, more so when she realized that what she’d bumped into was feathery and soft. Fluttershy turned and looked up, and the déjà vu gave no further pretense—this was a clear case of a repetition of history.
A griffin stood tall and staunch before Fluttershy, scuffed talons and ruffled feathers on menacing display. This griffin needed no introduction; the illusion of time displacement did that well enough for Fluttershy already.
“You again?! Still haven’t learned to watch where you’re going, huh?!”
Fluttershy looked deep into the eagle eyes of the feathered malcontent as her heart raced more. She felt her hooves shake beneath her, but she consciously kept them steady as she took a quiet breath and replied blandly:
“Hello, Gilda.”
Gilda snorted and stared back at Fluttershy, her eagle eyes narrowing. Evidently, the reaction was entirely mutual.
“That’s it?” asked Gilda. “No whimpering? No whining? None of that ‘I’m sorry’ crud?”
“I am sorry, Gilda,” Fluttershy replied passively, “but I can’t talk now. I’m busy. Please excuse me.” Her heart throbbed painfully hard, but she stayed still.
“Busy?!” Gilda snapped. “Busy running into everyone like a total twit? Maybe if you had half a brain and tried walking forwards for a change, you wouldn’t be as busy! Now move it!”
Fluttershy’s eyes narrowed, as well. Her ears twitched when they picked up tiny quacking sounds at her hooves, and she glanced down; it seemed that Howard was not intimidated by Gilda’s imposing presence, and attempted to fluff out his yellow feathers and put on an imposing display of his own.
“Get behind me,” Fluttershy whispered, gently brushing Howard back to his mother and siblings behind her. Her heart slammed even harder against her ribs, but she sat down and stared directly back at Gilda, her ears folded back, and she made her reply:
“No. You move.”
Gilda’s eyes widened slightly for a fraction of a second. She pulled her head back at Fluttershy’s defiance, as if expecting her to recant as soon as possible.
“Excuse me?”
“Did you not hear me,” Fluttershy retorted, “or were to too distracted by your rude, bullying behavior to notice?”
“Don’t you snap at me, you little dweeb!” Gilda snarled. “You don’t have the spine to talk that big! Now move out of the way, or I’ll move you!”
Fluttershy’s heart pounded in her ears, now, and it took even more effort to keep from shaking, but she took another deep breath and stayed where she was.
“This is a public road, Gilda,” Fluttershy replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have the right to walk on it as I see fit, and so do my little friends, here.” She gestured to the duck family quivering and quacking behind her. “I’m guiding my duckie friends to their new home, and you got in the way. If you had seen where you were going, you would have seen me coming, and this wouldn’t have been a problem. But you just stood there in the road, just like last time, and just like last time, you acted like I did something wrong. I didn’t. I’m doing my job. So I must politely ask that you move, so I can finish it.”
Her heartbeat was almost painful now.
Gilda simply stood there, dumbfounded, for a good few seconds. Several attempts to speak ended as monosyllabic sounds of incredulity, until she finally got a hold on language, “Who . . . who do you think you are?!”
“I think I’m just a pony trying to do the right thing—”
“That’s right!” Gilda growled, seeming to find her foothold. “You are just a pony! A wimpy one! I sent you running before, and I’ll do it again! Now you better move out of my way!”
Fluttershy’s eyes reached an all-time narrow. “If you asked nicely, maybe I would.”
“’If you asked nicely’!” Gilda whined back in a mocking voice. “You’re as much of a wuss as before! I don’t know why Rainbow Dash hangs out with you!”
“Funny, I thought the same thing about you.”
That seemed to be the final straw. Gilda took a deep breath, lifted her head up, pointing her beak towards the sky, and the illusory trip back in time was complete:
“RRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR!!!”
The only sound that matched the roar was Fluttershy’s blood thundering through her veins. Her mane flew around in all directions and she had to close her eyes. Now, her heart threatened to burst from her chest, and the urge to cave and run away crying almost drowned her.
As though everything that had happened in the last five minutes had not been a forceful enough callback, in the space of that roar, Fluttershy flashed back to that day. The day she’d dreaded repeating ever since. A day that had given her nightmares for weeks afterwards that she’d insisted on telling nopony about.
She’d walked along with her little duck friends, helping them get through town.
She’d felt her behind bump against feathers, and had looked up to see a griffin, a rare sight indeed in Ponyville.
The griffin had become defensive and reactionary, yelling at Fluttershy immediately.
Fluttershy had struggled to apologize, equally afraid and contrite at her mistake and the one unto whom it was made.
The griffin had merely mocked her, yelled at her and insulted her, then let off a mighty roar that almost knocked Fluttershy off her hooves.
Unable to handle the stress and the terror, Fluttershy had burst into tears and raced away, too scared to even comfort her little duckie friends.
It was as vivid now as it was when it first happened, even without Gilda returning for an encore.
When Gilda’s roar ceased, Fluttershy felt her eyes well up again. She remembered how mean Gilda was, and remembered asking herself why she would do such a thing for no reason. She’d even reconsidered leaving the cottage that day to go to Pinkie Pie’s latest party (she’d only gone so as not to disappoint Pinkie). All she’d wanted to do was stay at home and cry, and ask why Gilda would hurt her when she didn’t even know her.
But that was then. And this was now.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Gilda smirked, clearly seeing Fluttershy’s eyes mist over, “go ahead and cry, like the whiny little foal you are! Just like last time! Rainbow Dash is crazy to hang out with a dork like you!”
Fluttershy gave the slightest of quivers as she sat there, staring back at Gilda’s belligerence and rage. After a few seconds’ pause, Fluttershy turned back to her duck friends and, still sitting, ushered them off to the side of the road with one hoof. “It’s okay, duckies,” she told them, her voice surprisingly level in spite of her wildly fluctuating feelings. “Just stay right there. I’ll take care of this.” She then turned back to Gilda, blinked away the tears before they fell, took another deep breath, and stood up.
“Gilda. You don’t scare me.”
There was another pause, longer this time, and Gilda stared back at Fluttershy as if insulted.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Fluttershy shot back. “You don’t scare me. Because you’re a bully. And I’ve fought bigger bullies than you. And won.”
“Yeah, right!” Gilda snorted. “Like you could—”
“I’m not finished,” Fluttershy cut her off with a raised voice. “I’ve fought bigger bullies than you’ll ever know. The kind of bullies that have done things that would make the feathers on the back of your neck stand up. I’ve fought bullies that have commanded armies, enslaved whole cities, caused eternal night, and threatened to destroy all of Equestria! And all of them were way scarier than you’ll ever be! So don’t you dare think you’re the scariest thing I’ve ever seen! I’ve made friends with ponies who were ten times worse than you!”
Gilda merely continued to stare. “What are you talk—”
“And that’s another thing! You don’t know me! You don’t have the right to call me names and think I’m some little helpless wimp! I’ve fought monsters and villains and helped saved Equestria so many times! I’m stronger than you’ll ever bother to know, because all you see is that scared little pony you upset all that time ago! Well, that scared little pony’s not so wimpy anymore, and she doesn’t let anypony bully her anymore!”
By now, the pugnacious look in Gilda’s eyes was gone. “That’s not—”
“And don’t you judge Rainbow Dash by her friends!” Fluttershy went on in an almost screaming voice, now taking steps forward. “If I judged Rainbow Dash by what kind of friends she has, that would include you, and that would mean she is a horrible pony with horrible taste in friends! Because you do nothing but insult ponies and make them feel small and weak, and nopony would want to be friends with a pony or a griffin like you! Rainbow Dash may not be perfect, but she’s a hero too, and I’ve helped her save Equestria, so I know she’s good inside, but you, Gilda, haven’t shown anypony that you’re anything more than a cold, selfish, bitter old meanie who only feels strong by making everypony around her feel weak! And Rainbow Dash has much better friends than you, friends that know not to pick on smaller ponies, because the only kind of pony who would do that is a bully!”
Gilda was now taking a step back for every step forward Fluttershy took. Fluttershy’s heart hammered on, and she was now fully trembling, but now, it wasn’t out of fear.
“And nopony wants to be friends with a bully! Because bullies only ever end up frozen in stone, or locked up in Tartarus, or banished to the moon, or something terrible that makes them pay for what they did! I don’t like bullies, and that’s why I fight for Equestria! To make sure nopony else is hurt by cruel, bullying cowards . . . LIKE YOU!!!”
“ALL RIGHT, SHUT UP!! I’M NOT LIKE THAT!!”
Fluttershy stopped shrieking in unchained fury, and her vibrating body slowly coasted to a stiller state. She saw the look on Gilda’s face, and it urged her to calm herself more—the griffin now wore a grimace of indignity, her teeth were gritted, and her breaths were huffy and strained. That look and her scream for Fluttershy to cease were more than enough to tell the yellow Pegasus that she’s gone too far.
Fluttershy took another deep, cleansing breath, and the shakes went away completely. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but that’s been building up for a long time, Gilda. And you needed to hear it. Every little word.”
Gilda’s distorted features and heavy breathing remained. There was a pause in which that was the only sound; even Fluttershy’s heart had relaxed considerably. For the first time, Fluttershy was face-to-face with Gilda, and was completely calm.
“I don’t know what Rainbow Dash sees in you,” Gilda moaned. She turned to one side, closed her eyes, and sniffed. “Stupid ponies . . . .”
“Gilda?” Fluttershy asked, approaching her and feeling her insides drop with dread. “Are . . . are you oka—”
“I’m not crying!” Gilda yelled back, her voice breaking in spite of the low growl. “I just . . . don’t get it. Why does she like you ponies so much? You and your stupid friends are all she talks about in her letters. And I . . . does she even talk about me at all?”
Fluttershy pressed a hoof to her aching chest. The pain she felt almost kept her silent, but not permanently. “Gilda,” she said in a soft tone, “why are you here? What made you come back?”
“I just wanted to see Rainbow Dash, that’s all,” Gilda replied, not without venom. “I was sick of sending letters, and I wanted to . . . to make things better . . . like they used to be, you know? We were best friends in flight school, and I just . . . I want that back . . . .”
In spite of her rage and animosity, Fluttershy couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity in her heart. Gilda’s behavior was unacceptable, but she and Rainbow Dash had been friends once. She must have seen something in the griffin, otherwise they wouldn’t be staying in touch after all this time. And Gilda wouldn’t be here, repeating history in spite of a need to learn from it.
“Well I’m sorry, Gilda,” Fluttershy’s voice maintained sternness, but was notably softer now, “but you aren’t trying very hard at all. I’m Rainbow Dash’s friend, too, and she won’t like it very much if she knew you were still treating me like this—”
“Why do you think I’m here, you little p— . . . p-pony?” Gilda asked, wincing at her own backtrack. “I can’t apologize to her friends over a letter, can I?”
At this, Fluttershy let out a gruff sigh and glared up at Gilda. The ducks remained patiently waiting by the roadside, along with a copious gathering of ponies witnessing the confrontation.
“Gilda, why didn’t you just say so?” Fluttershy asked with her same soft sternness. “Why not try to bury the hatchet instead of just picking another fight with me? Do you really feel that badly about yourself that you have to keep hurting others to make yourself feel better?”
Gilda grimaced at Fluttershy’s words and replied curtly, “No.”
“Then why? Why start yelling at me again, like nothing’s changed?”
“No reason, okay?”
“There’s always a reason for ponies’ behavior. Even griffins.”
“Not this griffin.”
“Gilda, please. I may not like you very much, but I still want to help you—”
“Yeah, I get it!” Gilda snapped, her eyes now misting over. “You don’t like me, either! You hate me. Rainbow Dash hates me. That pink weirdo hates me. All your friends hate me! I get it! Geez, why bother even trying to help me if you hate me so much! You’re so nice, it’s pathetic! Why does Rainbow Dash have to hang out with a bunch of lame-o ponies who do nothing but good all day long . . . why . . .” she sniffed and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. Now, she appeared to be trembling.
“Why does she like you all more than me?”
The pang in Fluttershy’s heart intensified, and for a very brief moment, she felt her eyes well up for an entirely different reason. With no further reason to hold back, she stepped closer to Gilda and gently lay a hoof on her shoulder. Her plumage twitched, almost recoiled, and the urge to cry surged again.
“It’s okay, Gilda,” Fluttershy soothed. “You don’t have to explain. But you don’t have to be so angry, either. If you’d just try to change the way to act towards everypony, you and Rainbow Dash can be friends again, just like you used to be.”
“It’s too late,” Gilda almost whispered it, her attempts at a tough growl only half as effective. “Why bother trying if you still hate me?”
“I never said I hated you. I just said that I don’t like you very much, and that’s only because of the way you treat me. If you tried being nicer, we’d be much friendlier to each other.”
“Please . . . I came to apologize and all I did was act like a jerk . . . I can’t do it, okay? I just . . . can’t . . . .”
Fluttershy took to the air, hovering enough to meet Gilda face-to-face. She took the griffin’s face into her hooves and brought it to face her; she saw the same misty eyes mirrored back at her through a griffin face.
“It’s not too late for you,” Fluttershy said, her own voice threatening to crack. “It’s never too late for anyone. I told you that I’ve fought bad guys, but a few of them have become good guys. That’s because they were willing to start over and try something new. It was scary at first, even if some of them won’t admit it, but if you just take a chance and do things differently, ponies can surprise you.”
Gilda sniffed again, but the tears did not fall. Her legs quivered slightly beneath her.
“Why would your friends want to forgive me? Dash hasn’t even said if she forgave me. Why should anypony else?”
Fluttershy looked directly into Gilda’s eyes, unblinking, as she replied:
“I do.”
At last, the tears fell. Gilda’s chest and shoulders shook, and she turned away and squeezed her eyes shut again, this time forcing out more tears. “Why . . .” she groaned, audibly forcing down the sobs, “why do you ponies . . . forgive so easily . . . ?”
“Because,” Fluttershy answered, “it hurts to carry a grudge. It’s better to let go of bad feelings, even if it doesn’t mean starting over and being friends.”
Gilda turned back towards Fluttershy, her eyes wide open and gazing at her, brow wrinkled and mouth slightly agape. “You’d . . . you’d want to start over and be friends . . . with me?”
Fluttershy answered her by putting her forelegs around her in a big hug. Her face buried in white feathers, she couldn’t tell whether her actions worked or not. After a few seconds, though, she knew; she felt Gilda’s talons gently return the gesture, and she felt herself warm up inside with delight.
“I’m sorry . . . I’m really sorry . . . .”
“It’s okay, Gilda. I forgive you.”
After a few seconds, the two parted, and Gilda straightened her plumage and brushed off her shoulders. Her face returned to its stony state, but the moisture of her tears remained.
“There, doesn’t that feel better?” Fluttershy asked with a smile as she set down to the ground. “Doesn’t it feel better to talk about these things instead of being angry?”
“Well . . .” Gilda replied with a sniff, “I guess so . . . j-just don’t tell anyone I was crying, okay?” She added to this by wiping away the wetness from her face.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Fluttershy replied, “my lips are sealed." I don’t have to, anyway, she continued in thought as she glanced up and down the sides of the street—the onlookers were only just now dispersing, whistling tunelessly or staring awkwardly into the sky as they meandered away.
There was another few seconds’ pause as Fluttershy and Gilda stood there, about to be the only two inhabiting that section of road. Gilda brushed off her shoulder again, sighed, and spoke at last, “Well . . . thanks. I . . . guess I’ll be seeing you.” And she resumed the path she’d taken before she’d run into Fluttershy, walking a bit slower and, if Fluttershy didn’t know any better, a bit more aware this time.
“Wait, Gilda!” Fluttershy called out, catching up quickly. “You know, if you’re still going to visit Rainbow Dash, maybe you’d like me to come with you? If she sees the two of us being friendlier to one another, she’ll definitely be friendlier with you.”
Gilda looked at Fluttershy with the same wrinkled features as before, then looked away again, as if contemplating the offer. After a few seconds, she sighed again and shrugged. “Whatever . . . uh, I-I mean, sure. You know, if . . . if you want to . . . .”
“Great!” Fluttershy beamed. “Just let me take my duckie friends to the lake, and we’ll go together, okay?”
“Uhh . . . hey, do . . . do you mind if I . . . if I go with you? I-I mean, I got nothing else to do, and I don’t . . . really know anypony else in town except Dash, so . . . .”
Fluttershy’s smile could only widen. She’s opening up! That’s wonderful! Rainbow Dash will be so happy!
“I’d be glad to have you, Gilda,” the Pegasus replied before turning back toward the ducks—only barely catching the look of what could only be relief on Gilda’s face. She beckoned the mother duck and her progeny back to the road, and the ducks followed. Fluttershy then resumed walking backwards, guiding the duck family along, and that striking sense of déjà vu returned.
“I think I’ll just walk forward,” Gilda said simply as she trudged along beside Fluttershy. “You know, since you bump into everyone a lot, I could . . . I don’t know, warn you or something . . . .”
“Why, thank you, Gilda,” Fluttershy giggled. “That’s very kind of you.”
“It . . .” Gilda stammered, her tone softening, “. . . it is? Uh, w-well . . . no problem.” After a few seconds of walking, Fluttershy heard Gilda add offhandedly, “You know . . . this is gonna sound really dumb, but . . . I don’t even really know your name . . . .”
She looked up at Gilda for a second before resuming her backward tread, smiling warmly.
“It’s Fluttershy.”
“Oh . . . yeah, that sounds familiar. Dash talks about you a lot in her letters . . . well, as long as we’re starting over, I’m Gilda.”
Fluttershy giggled again. “It’s very nice to meet you, Gilda.” She glanced up at the griffin, and the warmth of her smile permeated the area. “And I really mean that.”
Gilda seemed to struggle with it, but she soon smiled back. It was only a halfhearted smirk at first, but it soon flourished into a full-fledged grin, and the warmth doubled.
“You know, they are kinda cute . . . .”
“What?”
“The ducks. They’re kinda cute . . . y-you know, if you like that sort of thing . . . .”
Fluttershy nodded and sighed contentedly. “Animals always make me happy. It’s so nice to know they can make you happy, too.”
