Fuzzies

by Palm Palette

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Main 6, Drama, Spike
Length: 23284

It's a terrible thing when ponies turn into half-animals. They are ostracized, shunned, and banished.

Nopony knows why it happens. It's senseless, horrible, and cruel. Upon growing up, a few unlucky ponies develop animal features, like antlers, whiskers, scales, or even beaks. These hybrids, these fuzzies as they are known, are shunned like freaks and treated like beasts. The world would be better off without them, according to everypony else.

For the most part, Twilight would like to pretend that these sub-equines don't exist, but she can't ignore it when Fluttershy falls victim to the curse. This seismic event threatens to tear them apart. She feels like she has no choice but to sever ties and abandon her friend. Ponies have very good reasons for hating fuzzies, and Twilight knows those reasons by heart. It's the right thing to do... isn't it?

Regardless of what she thinks, there's no room for fuzzies in a civilized world, and that's not about to change any time soon. Only a fool would think otherwise.

Published 2017-10-06 12:50:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-10-06 12:50:06 UTC

Freaking Twilight

The morning brought with it an angry chorus of squawking birds. They crowed and cawed before the sun even rose. Twilight groaned and pulled her covers over her head. She hadn't slept well, tossing and turning, haunted by the events of the night. A goose landed on her windowsill and screeched. Golden Oaks Library was normally a great place to live, but it also attracted birds, a lot of birds. Whenever they made a ruckus, there wasn't much she could do.

An errant thought popped into her mind. Fluttershy would know what was bothering them. She snorted and flopped a pillow over her head. That freak had probably sent them after her, to punish the townsponies in sheer spite.

A fuzzy! An actual, stinking fuzzy!

Her mind reeled at the atrocity. How long had Fluttershy been hiding it? That deep down, she was a monster all along? That she wasn't even a real pony? How could she ever have been friends with something like that?

Owlowiscious flew in from his night prowl and took up his usual perch. He ruffled his feathers and dozed off as the sun rose in the sky. At least the owl was well behaved. She pulled the window shut, and the sharp slam startled several birds away. “Five more minutes,” she muttered, turning away from the window as a beam of sunlight crept down the wooden wall.

Those five minutes came and went. She was just about to doze off again when her alarm clock rang, rattling the room with bells. Groaning, she flopped out of the sheets and slapped the thing, shutting it off. With great lethargy, she dragged herself to the restroom to freshen up. She had deep bags under her eyes and her mane was wild and frazzled. This day was off to a great start. Yep. Truly great. It took a while for her to tame that mass of rebellious hair.

At breakfast, she found Spike already up. She grabbed a granola bar and sighed. She didn't have time for a proper breakfast. While chowing down the unhealthy meal, she stared at the little green and purple dragon. He'd been in Canterlot yesterday, helping Luna with the festivities and hadn't gotten back until everything had happened. As much as she hated breaking bad news, he needed to know.

“Spike, I'm not sure how to say this, but there's something that you need to know about Fluttershy.”

“Did something happen to her?” The baby dragon looked up from his bowl of oatmeal with wide eyes.

“It's, well...” Twilight bit her lip and dragged her hooves. “She's changed, Spike. She's part tiger now.”

“Huh?” Staring back, he was truly perplexed.

“She had this striped tail, long and cat-like, and striped ears to match, and who knows what else?” Twilight waved her hoof in the air, drawing shapes to match her words.

Spike set down his spoon. “So... she's a cat now?”

“Worse!” Twilight leaned down and spoke softly, hissing her words as if they were toxic. “She's a fuzzy.”

“A what?”

“A fuzzy! An animal hybrid. A horrible abomination. Listen to me. It's very important that you stay away. I don't want you going anywhere near her.”

“What? Why not?” He raised an eyebrow, scratching his head.

“Because she's a fuzzy,” Twilight said, as if that explained everything.

“So?”

“So? So!” Stomping a hoof, the table shook and rattled the dishes. “Being a fuzzy is just plain wrong. They're... They're crazy! They act like wild animals. They could lash out and hurt you! You don't want to get hurt, do you?”

Tilting his head, he gave her an odd look. “Are you sure you're talking about Fluttershy? She'd never hurt a fly.”

“Yes! She's a fuzzy now!” Twilight growled. She was jittery, shaking and clenched her eyes shut. Her ears flipped up and she gasped. “That's probably why the birds were so riled up! She was probably chasing them. That's proof.” She raised her nose in the air, perfectly imitating a Canterlot snob.

Spike blinked several times. “Really?” he asked. He cast his eyes down, staring at his cooling breakfast.

“Yes, really,” Twilight said. She paused, and tapped her chin. “I know it's awful, but life isn't fair.”

He looked up again, hopeful. “You can help her, right? There's a way to fix this?”

“Fix her?” Twilight bit her lip. “Spike, I...” She shook her head, eyes watering. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked out a round, open window, wincing and squinting. A sunbeam lit the bookshelves next to her now-averted head. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “There's no cure. Ponies have tried for centuries. Nothing works. We'll just—we'll just have to...”

“Have to what?”

Sniffling, she blew her nose and stared at the wall. For a while, she did little but breathe, and when she turned to face him, her eyes were puffy, red, and moist. “We have to let her go. She can't be our friend anymore.”

“What!? You can't be serious!” In his shock, he knocked his bowl over. Oatmeal spilled on the floor.

“I am, Spike. She betrayed us. She's a-a-fuzzy. Normal ponies don't associate with their kind.”

“Why not?” he asked, staring forlornly at his lost breakfast.

“You heard what I said, Spike. They're dangerous. They spread disease. They degrade society. They attack without warning. They're erratic and unpredictable. They're prone to-to—” Twilight bit her lip while staring at Spike's wide, innocent eyes. “—hurting themselves,” she eventually mumbled.

“But Fluttershy's not like that. She wouldn't do any of those things.” He paused, blinked, and scratched his head. “And how does somepony 'degrade society,' anyway?” he mumbled. Hopping out of his seat, he picked up the fallen bowl and started wiping the floor.

Staring straight, Twilight's lips quivered. Her puffy eyes watered, and one spilled over to trickle down her cheek. She twitched, and her mane snapped, wild with loose, rebellious hairs springing out.

“No! Not Fluttershy!” she wailed. Lunging, she snatched Spike off the ground and clung to him like a pillow. He winced and struggled. Whipping him around, his eyes rolled around in his head as she levitated him in front of her face. “Spike, we have to save her! Quick, bring me that Magical Maladies reference book, and Pony Health Problems and The Modern Medicine Complete Encyclopedia, Volume V, F-He and—” She dropped him and tapped her hooves together as she listed book after book.

“Wha—? But you just said there's no cure.” He wobbled, trying to keep his balance.

“Then we'll have to find one!” She stomped her hoof on the ground, standing tall and proud.

Spike nodded and ran to work, scouring the library's shelves for the selected tomes. He gathered as many books as he could, ignoring the growing stain on the floor from his spilled breakfast.

Furrowing her brow, Twilight snatched open the thickest and heaviest book in the pile. She went right to work, sitting on her haunches and delving deep into the content of a dry, archaic encyclopedia. Her eyes widened and she frowned. “What!? But...” Biting her lip, she shook her head. With a thump, the book disturbed a patch of dust on the floor. “No. How could I forget about that? It's too dangerous to even try. Attempting to cure the problem only makes it worse.”

“It does?” Spike held a tome, half-pulled off the shelf. When he saw her droop her head, he shoved it back and walked over. “Is it really that bad?”

Sniffling, Twilight nodded. “It's worse than bad. Give me a few minutes to double-check, but I don't think we have anything that can help.” With a sigh, she pulled the next book off the pile and scanned for the relevant entry. She shook her head and set it aside. Her ears gradually drooped as she went through tome after tome.

Spike took the opportunity to mop up his breakfast. After all, one had to be very careful with food in a library as cockroaches and other bugs can do terrible damage to the books. It took several sheets of paper towels but he managed to get the floor sparkling and clean. His stomach grumbled at the loss of food. It was likely going to be a very long day. “Any luck?” he asked, glancing at Twilight's dwindling pile of books.

“No.” She sighed. “This last one just recommends banishment. I mean, what kind of medical book recommends that? I know that's what everypony does, but you'd think they'd be more delicate and dance around the issue by calling it an 'indefinite quarantine' or something.”

“Banishment?” Clenching his teeth, he hissed as he drew a sharp breath. “Is that really necessary? You said it's just a striped tail and ears and stuff. So Fluttershy looks a little different. So what?”

“Haven't you been listening? It's everything!” Twilight slapped the ground, shaking the useless books. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Nnngh!” After taking a short breath, she snapped back to attention, eyes red and puffy and face wild. “It's worse than everything! It's... It's...” She crumpled up, burying her face in her forelegs. “Fluttershy. It couldn't have happened to a nicer pony. Spike, I was so stupid. I kept calling that weird deer-bunny thing an abomination right in front of her. Of course she wanted to tell me but she couldn't because—” She cut off, eyes wide, staring off into the distance as if the wall wasn't there.

Waving an arm in front of her face, Spike asked, “Um, Twilight?”

She didn't blink. “Augh! What am I saying!” Pulling her mane, the frazzled unicorn started pacing in circles. “All fuzzies are abominations. Wait! I know! Maybe I've been thinking about this all wrong. Perhaps the best cure is to eliminate the problem in the first place. Do we still have Unabridged Atrocity: 500 Spells that Should Never be Cast? There's a section in there about trans-species reassignment. If Fluttershy can't be a real pony, then she can be a tree!”

Holding his hands up, Spike crept back. Somehow, a missed breakfast seemed the least of his problems. “Um, Twilight, you're acting really weird, so, um, I'll just be...” He quickly darted to the doorway, inching down the stairs with only his head poking through the arch into the room “...over here.” He ducked out of sight, beads of sweat rolling down his purple scales. He quickly scribbled down a note, took a deep breath, and burned it with his green dragon flame. The ashes sparkled and wafted out a nearby window.

A bright flash of magenta light made Spike poke his head back in the room. Twilight's horn was smoldering, and there was a scraggly, wilted potted willow where the table used to be. She was rubbing her hooves together and her eyes were darting around, searching for a new target.

A rumble in his tummy caught Spike off-guard. He doubled over, letting out a huge belch. A giant jet of flame incinerated the wayward sapling and singed the fur on Twilight's muzzle. She yelped and jumped back. Out of the smoke popped a scroll, sealed with wax stamped with the royal symbol. Twilight snatched it from the air with her magic and drew it close.

“Oh no! Of course Celestia would have heard about this! The whole town saw Fluttershy! And of course she'll want me to, um...” She blinked and stared at the still-sealed scroll. “As her number one student, it falls on me to, um...”

Spike groaned and got up. “Want you to what?”

She shut one eye and grimaced as she cracked the seal. When the letter unfurled, she peeked at it, then opened both eyes and stared. “That's weird.”

“What?”

“She wants me to listen to my friends. What do you suppose she means by that?” Twilight's tone was almost normal, conversational, slightly raspy, though.

Wiping his forehead, Spike let out a sigh of relief. He shrugged. “That you should talk to them?”

She blinked. “Oh! Of course! They're bound to be devastated. This is a great opportunity for learning about friendship. C'mon, Spike!” She stooped low and motioned for him to get on her back, which he did, grabbing onto her ruffled mane. “We need to get out there and console our friends!”

Leaves and Hats

Their first stop was Sweet Apple Acres. No leaves rustled, no wind blew, and no ponies were locked up in their rooms crying the day away. The great apple trees were healthy and green. They bore no fruit yet, just leaves. The steady scritch scritch of a rake scratching the ground was the only sound in the wide stretch of land. Even the birds were quiet. Actually, they were absent. Odd.

“Hello, Applejack!” Twilight strode up to the fence lining the property and waved.

“Hey, Twilight.” The orange earth pony waved back. Applejack stopped to wipe her brow and leaned her rake up against a dead tree. Dried, brown leaves were gathered up in a neat pile. “Old Barkus here caught a blight last month and we had to intervene to keep the infection from spreading.” She tapped on a barren, brown tree, noting a three-inch thick ring of peeled bark around the whole trunk, a surefire way of killing almost any tree. “A shame, really, but when the blight calls the tree falls as they say.”

“Yeah, that is a shame,” Twilight said.

“I'll really miss her. Poor, ol' Barkus.” Applejack shook her head. “Had the sweetest little plum apples too. One of the best.”

“What kind of blight was it? Balewood? Ghost mites?”

“Leper leaves.”

Twilight winced. “Ooh. Nasty.”

Applejack nodded. “Eeyep.”

Spike frowned and grabbed Twilight's mane. “Twilight, aren't you going to ask her about Fluttershy?”

Raising an eyebrow, Applejack frowned and turned back to her work. She kicked the rake, causing it to flip in the air before snatching it and scraping the ground, as if she were burying the dead. “It's a shame about Fluttershy, too. She was a real good friend of ours.”

“Yes, she was.” Twilight nodded. “It's a shame what happened to her.”

“Was? But she hasn't gone anywhere. She's still here, isn't she?” Spike asked.

Twilight snapped her head, glaring back at her scaly passenger. She scrunched up her face in a deep scowl and hissed, “Quiet, Spike. Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

“But—”

“Yer darn tootin' it's a shame,” Applejack said, scraping the ground. “Remember when we dragged her up that mountain to confront a dragon? She was shaking like a mouse the whole time, but in the end, she had the most courage of anypony. She was one of the best of us.”

Spike groaned and slumped on Twilight's back.

“I remember that. And the time she stole Celestia's pet bird? He was never sick at all. He was a phoenix!”

“Heh, yeah. That was what? Three weeks ago? Things sure can change fast.” Applejack accidentally spread out some dead leaves and frowned as she redoubled her effort to gather them back up, scritch-scritching the ground. “A real shame about the Gala coming up, but when the blight calls, the tree falls.”

“Eeyep,” Twilight said. She sighed and drooped her head low. “I'll really miss her.”

Closing her eyes, Applejack listened to the still air. “Me too, Twilight. Me too.”

A door chime tittered when Twilight stepped into the Ponyville boutique. Rarity's shop was just as full of beautiful, silky dresses as it always was. The air was light and pretty, thanks to sparkling window displays and fancy herbal perfume. The place was like a vacation for the eyeballs, truly a dazzling sight.

Twilight took a deep breath before calling out for her friend. “Rarity, are you there?”

A pile of cloth shuffled and a white unicorn with a stylish, curled purple mane poked her head up. “Oh! Twilight. Sorry, I was so caught up that I didn't see you come in.” She was well groomed as usual. Her mane was silky and shone in the light, but she had on too much eyeliner, making her eyes look dark and somewhat baggy.

“Hello, Rarity. You're looking wonderful,” Spike said dreamily.

Frowning, Twilight flexed her back to give her passenger a light bump. When it didn't help with his gaga eyes, she sighed and turned to her friend. “Are you doing okay? It was pretty shocking to find out that Fluttershy's a... a fuzzy.”

“Shocking? Hardly. It was terrible, awful, abysmal even! One of the worst things that could happen in the entire history of worst things that could ever possibly happen! The poor dear must be completely devastated!”

“Her?” Twilight blinked. “Uh, I guess, but I was asking about you.”

“Me? Well, I'm completely devastated too, of course. But right now I need an opinion. What goes better with this trench coat, the brown hat or black one?” Levitating a few items, Rarity held up a long black coat that was more a cape with legs than a true trench coat. The brown hat had a dimpled top and curved brim while the black one was short, flat and had a wide, long brim that was rimmed with short tassels.

“Try the black one,” Spike said.

“Hmm, an elegant choice. But it still needs something to complete the ensemble...” She tapped her chin, then tore a thick, black scarf with frazzled, frayed edges out of a box. “Perfect!” With a mad grin, she stuffed all three items into her saddlebags and placed them on her back. “Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off. I have a weekly engagement that I must attend to.”

Hesitating in the door, Twilight did not step aside. “Weekly? But... Today's Monday. Don't you normally have tea with Fluttershy on Mondays? You aren't thinking of... going to see her, are you?”

Twilight frowned. The thought of Rarity visiting Fluttershy shouldn't bother her, should it? Yet... it filled her stomach with a dreadful, knotted tension. Fuzzies were things to be avoided, and friends didn't let friends see fuzzies. Nopony did. And if that fuzzy happened to be a friend? No. Fuzzies were friends to nopony. They couldn't be. It was just how things were. That didn't sit well with her either. She knew she couldn't be friends with Fluttershy, but to have no friends at all...? Her frown deepened.

Rarity stood perfectly still. Her wide blue eyes stared unblinking, and her mouth was thin and closed. After the lengthy, uncomfortable silence wore on, she spoke as if no time had passed at all. “Oh no no no, dear. I am a respectable business pony. I cannot be seen traipsing about with her kind. If ponies thought I was a sympathizer, I'd be ruined, ruined!”

Twilight blinked and stepped aside. “Oh. Okay, then. I guess I'll see you later?”

Walking out, Rarity said nothing more.

“Bye!” Spike waved as she walked past.

Twilight sighed and flipped the sign on the door to 'Closed' before walking out herself. She shook her head and marched off into the busy streets. She supposed she should feel relieved, but... the apprehensive knot in her gut was still there.

She felt horribly conflicted. This all happened so fast. One minute Fluttershy was a friend, and the next she was a fuzzy. It was still hard for her to fathom that even though she'd seen it herself. Perhaps there was merit in talking to the others, to keep herself grounded on the right path. Rainbow Dash should help with that, as she idolized those fuzz-busting Wonderbolts.

Heh. And Pinkie Pie turned the whole town against Fluttershy, a real fuzz-buster in action! Though a nagging voice told her that was unlike the Pinkie she knew, redoubling her unease.

She'd talk to Rainbow first.

Crazy Town

Sadly, Rainbow Dash did not appear to be home. Twilight yelled as loud as she could from a hot air balloon, but since neither she nor Spike could fly or walk on clouds, there wasn't anything they could do when they got no answer. They had to give up and go back to town.

Sugarcube Corner was full of sweet delectables and the air was heavy with the scent of cinnamon, honey, vanilla, ginger, and lemon. Some ponies lingered over a late lunch, nibbling away on baskets of empty wrappers and muffins, slurping scum from the bottom of emptied glasses, or leaning back, pouring over the last few pages of the newspaper with plates full of crumbs. A rustling of wind shook the trees outside and shadows of leaves danced over tables and chairs. Mrs. Cake was managing the counter, wiping the display glass with a damp rag.

Twilight strolled in, stopping to take a breath of the sweet, sweet air. “Hi, Mrs. Cake. Is Pinkie around?”

Her rag squeaked as she brought it to a stop. She had a deep frown, and stared at the lavender unicorn with the baby dragon clinging to her back. Twilight's grin faded, staring into those morose eyes. “She's in her room.” Mrs. Cake pointed up the stairs. “The poor dear's been beside herself since last night.”

“Ah. Thanks.” Trotting off, Twilight scurried out of sight. Spike had to cling tight as she bounded up the stairs, lest he tumble off. Beyond the bustle of the shop, the second floor was quiet save for muffled mumbling. On the left, was a barren space with an empty crib. Pinkie's room was on the opposite side, firmly shut. She knocked on the door.

“...” was the response, too faint to make out.

“Pinkie, it's us, Twilight and Spike.”

The door creaked open, revealing a dim room shrouded in darkness. The windows were shuttered, curtains drawn, and blankets were piled in heaps on the floor with the bed stripped down to the mattress. Pinkie had dark circles under her eyes and her mane was more droopy than poofy. “Oh, hi,” she said, in a flat, hollow voice.

“Pinkie, what's wrong?” Spike asked.

“Wrong? Nothing's wrong!” She chuckled oddly, scrunching up her face and darting over to an empty bucket. She pushed it towards a pile of rocks. “Hiya, Sir Bucket said to his best friend Rocky in a tin-laden voice, Want to play with Madame Flour?”

“No! Rocky screamed, deeply and gruffly.” Pinkie pushed the rock away. “Madame Flour is actually holding potatoes! She is not a real flour sack. I am a snooty rock pile and I cannot stand things that are different. I will not associate with the likes of her.”

Pinkie's ears drooped and she leaned down to poke the rocks. “Aw, why not? She could use a friend right now.”

“Uh, Pinkie.” Twilight glanced around the room. She cringed. “You're weirding me out here.”

Pinkie returned to the bucket. “Madame Flour is still the finest sack I have ever seen. What difference does the inside make when she looks the same on the outside regardless?”

Poking a flower plot with a single daisy, Pinkie said, “I, Potty the Plant, shall be entirely unreasonable, saying that Sir Bucket is a bucket head who should go bucket himself, she said, acting high and snooty.”

She pointed back at the rocks. “Here here, said Rocky, Potty is now my new favorite whom I shall love and cherish until I decide not to later on for no reason whatsoever.”

“Pinkie, this is all just stuff.” Twilight picked the things up with her magic and swept them aside, leaving a large empty spot on the floor. “let's leave crazy town alone for a while, and tell me what's really bothering you, okay?” Grinning widely, she stared Pinkie in the eyes, who blinked blankly.

Spike hopped off and stepped over to wave a hand in front of Pinkie's face. “Pinkie?”

Moaning, she hung her pink pony head. “Nopony listens to me and Fluttershy doesn't want to see me anymore.”

Twilight's eyes widened and her wide grin vanished. At this rate, that knot in her gut was going to become an ulcer. What was up with her friends wanting to see Fluttershy? Of course a fuzzy wouldn't want to be seen by anypony. Nopony should want to see them, either.

“Well, we're definitely here to listen,” Spike said.

“Uh, yeah. Celestia's orders and all. But, why did you want to see Fluttershy?” Twilight asked.

“She's really really upset, and it's not my fault! Everypony is being really mean for no good reason and I don't understand and she won't listen and they're all sour and nopony's happy and they didn't like it when I said it's silly they said it's not funny but I wasn't joking and—”

“Wait. Slow down a minute.” Twilight put her hoof on Pinkie's mouth. “What do you mean it's not your fault?”

“She had this really neat striped tail like a tiger. It was really smooth and soft and I wanted everypony to see how great it was, but they all yelled and shouted and threw things, and I have no idea why. I tried to talk to her, but she told me to—” Pinkie sniffled. “—to go away and not bother her anymore.”

Twilight recoiled, taking a huge step backwards. Touching a fuzzy went far beyond seeing one. She had a horrible, sinking feeling that something was seriously wrong with Pinkie Pie. “Uh, Pinkie, those ponies had every right to be upset. She's a fuzzy. How can you not get that?”

Frowning, Pinkie scraped a hoof on the floor. “Me? Everypony else was wrong! They were angry for no reason. They were making themselves upset. And when they're upset, they can't be happy. I just wanted them all to be happy.”

Slinking back, Twilight glanced down the hall and stepped halfway out the door. Her heart raced as her mind tried to block out what she was hearing. “Pinkie, you're not making any sense.”

“Sure she is,” Spike said. “If you don't get upset in the first place, then you won't be unhappy. It sounds like perfectly good reasoning to me.”

“Exactly! And seeing a fuzzy is nothing to get upset about.” Pinkie's ears perked up. She seemed to regain some of her lost pep.

“Spike, don't listen to her!” Twilight wailed, magically snatching his tail and dragging him back.

Water welled up in Pinkie's eyes and she visibly deflated, drooping back to the ground.

“Pinkie, I—” Twilight choked. With wide eyes, she turned and bolted, galloping down the stairs.

“Twilight, you were supposed to listen!” Spike groaned and rubbed his spines.

“Oh! Spike!” Pinkie dove under her bed and pushed out the things Twilight had swept under there earlier. “Do you want to stay for a while and play? I'm sure Madame Flour would like some company.”

He blinked. None of those things looked like a bag of potatoes. “Where is Madame Flour? I don't see her.”

Pinkie shrugged. “Oh her? She jumped out the window ages ago.”

Cringing, Spike stepped back to the door and slowly shut it behind him. “I'd love to stay, really, but I, uh, I need to catch up with Twilight. If I don't keep an eye on her, she could do something crazy!”

Interlude

Back in Golden Oaks Library, Twilight groaned. She was sitting on her bench, ink and quill at the ready, and staring at a blank piece of parchment. Several books laid in a haphazard pile on the floor. She drummed a hoof on the varnished wood, adding more scuff marks to the well worn surface. Turning to the bookshelves, she levitated a thick brown tome bound in wood with vines woven in the spine. “Better Garden Cooking Recipes? This one's not even about magic!” With a thud, the book joined the others on the floor. “I wish I knew what to do. None of these books have helped one bit. I just wish there was a spell that could fix everything.”

The stairs rattled as little feet came stomping up them. Spike burst in the room, panting and huffing. “Twilight, what was that all about?”

“What was what about?”

“That. Just now. With Pinkie.” He waved his arms in the air, then clutched his side and leaned against the door frame to catch his breath.

Twilight cringed. She gave him a long stare, and spoke slowly, “I know this going to sound bad, but I think that Pinkie's a beast lover.” The last two words were spoken in a harsh whisper.

“A what?”

“A beast lover. The lowest of the low. The worst kind of pony.”

“Huh?”

Twilight groaned and rubbed her temple. “Spike, I don't expect you to get it because you're a dragon, but fuzzies are a hugely sensitive issue. If you don't know about this stuff you could seriously offend somepony.”

“Then tell me.”

Shaking her head, Twilight closed her eyes and rubbed her face. “I always hate talking about it. It's just so distasteful.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I've already told you about fuzzies, but a little reminder can't hurt. As you know, they're hybrid ponies with animal characteristics. They can be erratic, dangerous, and are a menace to society. Fuzzies come in three varieties. The normal kind is the one I just mentioned. Fuggles are fuzzies who have maimed themselves to remove the animal parts. They tend to be scarred, crippled, and are just as erratic and dangerous, if not more so.”

“Maim themselves? Why would anypony do that?”

Twilight bit her lip. “Uh. Because being a fuzzy is so bad that they'd rather be half a pony than a fuzzy at all, but it doesn't work. They're still fuzzies inside. There's no way to fix that.”

“Gah!” Spike cringed and shielded his face. “That's awful!”

“It is, Spike, and the third type is even worse.”

“Worse than that?” He clutched himself and curled into a ball, shaking.

“Uh...” Twilight blinked. “...but the good news about the third kind is that they don't exist anymore. Some ponies just made some bad choices a long time ago, and that was that. In addition to the fuzzies themselves, regular ponies fall into three general categories. The vast majority are normal ponies like myself who instinctively know that fuzzies are bad news and stay away from them. The other two categories can be problematic and downright dangerous.”

Frowning, Twilight shook her head. “For whatever reason, some ponies choose to ignore their instincts and associate with fuzzies anyway. We call those ponies sympathizers. The good news is that they inherently know that what they're doing is wrong, and can often be reasoned with.”

“Reasoned with? You mean yelled at?” Spike asked.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe. Shouting is a good way of drilling sense into somepony. It's the third type who are really dangerous. Beast lovers don't have the same instincts everypony else does, and can never be convinced of their error. They put themselves at risk by associating with fuzzies without hesitation, and that's not even the worst of it. Some beast lovers go to great lengths to convince other ponies that fuzzies aren't so bad, and put everypony else at risk by trying to bring the monsters back into society. If a beast lover speaks, you shouldn't listen. Plain and simple.”

“Twilight, Celestia specifically told you to listen to your friends.”

Twilight waved her hoof dismissively. “She couldn't have known that Pinkie was a beast lover. That obviously doesn't apply to her.” Tapping a hoof on her chin, Twilight hummed softly. “Oh! Spike, do you know where the Mindbending Compendium 9000 got to? I want to look up Abraca's Ultimate Hypnosis. Magic can't fix fuzzies, but a reformation spell might be exactly what Pinkie needs.”

“Uh... sure. It's under 'M'.” Spike hesitated at first, but soon ran over to a low bookshelf and pulled out a dusty tome bound with shark's teeth and broken glass. Gingerly, he flipped the heavy volume open and used the index to find the relevant entry. “Here it is. The ultimate hypnosis spell is guaranteed to alter the subject's complete worldview. To cast the spell, you'll need one mirror on a rope, at least five inches in diameter, unbroken, an advanced understanding of Mantra's magical melody, and your hypnotic message, preferably rhyming. Note: author is not responsible for problems caused by bad or conflicting instructions or improper use of this spell. Probable side effects include glossy eyes, staring into space, walking into objects, faded discoloration, lack of personality, inability to think for oneself, drooling, dead mane syndrome, and loss of cutie mark.”

“Hmm. That sounds like an older revision. Sixty percent of the magical melody technique has been proven to be superfluous. Still, it sounds like it would solve the problem.”

“Only if the problem is Pinkie being Pinkie Pie.” Spike cringed and snapped the book shut. He put it back on the shelf. “Twilight, shouldn't you at least finish talking to your friends before you go off and do something drastic?”

“Well I suppose, but I have no idea where Rainbow Dash is.”

“And what about Fluttershy?”

Twilight emphatically shook her head. The mere thought made her chest clench up. No! She couldn't see a fuzzy!

But she also stopped quickly. She shocked herself with the force of her own dread. This wasn't some random fuzzy; it was Fluttershy. She clenched her teeth. No. It couldn't be helped. “Spike, I already said that we can't be friends with her anymore.”

“Don't you at least want to say goodbye?”

Turning away, there was a thud as Twilight dropped her head on the bench. Her chin ruffled the empty sheet, and she sniffled. She'd been strong in maintaining her composure, but the weight of it all was threatening to crush her. “Spike, I...” She clenched her eyes shut, and sniffled again as a trickle of tears leaked out. “I'm really going to miss her. I really am.”

She paused and remembered the good times they had. Fluttershy was always so soft spoken, mellow, and timid, but had deep kindness in her heart that lent her a strength of character far beyond the norm. If only she could have learned to be more assertive. If only. It was too late for that now.

Picking up a box of tissues, Spike walked over and offered her one. She grabbed the whole box, leaving him empty-handed. “I'll miss her too.”

She tore out a wad of tissues and blew her nose. Staring at the pile of discarded books on the floor, she rubbed her bleary, bloodshot eyes. Perhaps she was being too hasty. Though her instincts screamed against it, she felt like she owed it to her former friend. If Fluttershy could stare down a dragon, then Twilight could visit a fuzzy.

Getting up, she took a deep breath and cast the tissues aside. “There'll be time for crying later. You're right, Spike. We do need to say goodbye. We owe her that much, at least.”

Tackled

The town was chill and the air silent. Some butterflies rested on a row of tiger lilies, flexing their colorful wings. The path to Fluttershy's cottage was so calm as to be stagnant. Tiny eyes and scampering critters oft hid in the bushes, but they were as empty as they were woody. Down the path, something was terribly wrong.

Fluttershy's home had been vandalized.

Twilight gasped. Some windows were cracked, rotten vegetables were splattered against the wooden siding, and a row of baby pink and red tulips were torn up and trampled. “Who did—”

Something walloped her hard, knocking her over and sending her tumbling in the dirt. She winced as she smacked the ground, then went 'oof' after bouncing and hitting it again. Sliding to a halt, she groaned. Something heavy landed on her.

“Ha I got you—! Twilight? Oh sorry, I thought those hecklers had come back.”

The weight lifted and Twilight rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, two blurry images of Rainbow Dash stood in front of her. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Ignoring an aching in her side, she gradually focused her eyes on the cyan pegasus. “Rainbow Dash? What are you doing here?”

Rainbow shrugged. “Some ponies were being a nuisance earlier, so I went ahead and chased 'em off. After that, I thought I'd stick around and watch the place, 'cause what they did just wasn't cool.”

“Other ponies did this?” Spike asked. He sat up in the grass, dusting himself off.

“Yeah. You should have seen it. They were all like 'boo' and 'hiss' and I was like WHAM!” She slapped her hooves together, clapping them in the air. “I told them that if they knew what was good for them, they'd better watch out, cause if anypony so much as harmed a hair on her back that I was going to let them have it!” She flew up, shaking her hoof in the air with a deep scowl.

“And then what happened?”

“They scattered like flies. They couldn't handle the awesome that is Rainbow Dash.”

Now back on her feet, Twilight picked a twig out of her mane and frowned. “Uh, thanks, I guess, but I thought you hated fuzzies. You're the last pony I'd expect to see sticking up for one.”

“What? Of course I hate them! They're the most rotten despicable things ever!” She crossed her forelegs and shook her head.

“But you're sticking up for Fluttershy.”

“Well, duh, because she's Fluttershy.”

“But she's a fuzzy.”

“It doesn't matter. She's still Fluttershy.”

Twilight rubbed her bruised temple. “But if you stick up for her like this, everypony's going to call you a sympathizer.”

Rainbow Dash's eye twitched and she scowled deeply. She still hovered in the air, looming down. “I don't sympathize with fuzzies, okay? These ponies were tearing up her property. I had every right to run them off.”

“Are you going to report them?” Spike asked.

Both Twilight and Rainbow Dash gave Spike a condescending stare. Speaking softly, Twilight said, “Spike, I know it's their job to stop stuff like this, but when a fuzzy's involved the police always seem to look the other way.”

“Oh.” Looking down, he kicked an uprooted clod of grass.

Shaking her head, the scuffed and grass-stained unicorn stared up at her airborne friend. “And that goes for you too. Even though those ponies were wrong, they'll still call you a sympathizer. I know it's not fair, but—”

Dash snorted. She folded back her ears. “Well fine, then! If protecting my friend from an angry mob means I have to be a sympathizer, then I'm a sympathizer.”

Twilight gasped. “You-you don't really mean that.”

“Uh, yeah? Of course I do!”

“But if you're a sympathizer, you'll never get into the Wonderbolts!”

Rainbow Dash's eye twitched again, and she hovered there, silent and steady like a sentinel. “I won't abandon her for anything, okay? If they don't want me because of that, it's their loss, not mine!”

Twilight was taken aback by the force of that declaration. She looked at the spiderweb fractures in the glass windows, the juicy streaks dribbled down the walls, and the many hoofprints stomped into the flower bed. If she'd caught ponies smashing up somepony else's home, she would have run them off too, but...

She shook her head. Spike had picked up an uprooted flower and was trying to put it back in the ground. Fluttershy was a fuzzy. There was no putting that cat back in the bag. She had to get through to Rainbow Dash before her life was ruined too.

“Rainbow, I know you want to help, but that's not really Fluttershy anymore.”

“What? Of course she is! Why would you even say something like that?”

“Because it's more than just ears and a tail. She's part animal now, a wild beast. She's erratic and dangerous. She can't be trusted. Even if she looks meek—”

“I know what a fuzzy is, you don't have to explain it to me.” Cringing, Rainbow Dash finally landed on the ground. She folded up her wings.

“And she degrades society too,” Spike said, patting down the soil around his re-planted, droopy, wilted flower. Both of them gave him a flat stare. “What?”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “C'mon, Twilight. Don't be ridiculous. None of that sounds like Fluttershy.”

“That's my point exactly.” Twilight held her chin up, elevating her nose. “Think about it. Think carefully. What does it mean to be a fuzzy?”

“Uh...” Blinking, Rainbow Dash scuffed a hoof in the dirt. Her eyes widened into circles. “Oh.”

“Have you actually talked to Fluttershy?” Spike asked.

Dash cringed and lowered her head. “She creeps me out, okay? I knocked once... a few hours ago, and didn't get an answer. I don't even know if she's home.”

“That's understandable.” Twilight nodded. “Just think about what you're doing, and don't make a terrible mistake, okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess I can do that.” Rainbow Dash shook her head and slunk off, leaving them alone.

After she left, Twilight ran over and grinned at Spike. “See? I told you that sympathizers could be reasoned with. You just have to know how to talk to them.”

“I guess so...”

Raspy Voice

After retrieving a spare key from under the welcome mat, Twilight creaked open the door to Fluttershy's cottage. Everything was covered in birds. They sat on couches, bookshelves, tables, on top of lamps, windowsills, and were all over the rugs. They were gray, brown, bright pink, and some with red breasts and spiked crests. They were mostly of the small and tiny varieties. No owls, hawks, falcons, eagles, or buzzards were immediately apparent. Cracked glass gave an underwater feel to the room with shadows arranged in wavy thin blurry lines.

Wings opened and feathers flew as the mass of avian bodies stirred. Twilight was beset by a cacophony of caws, chirps, and tweets. “What in the world?” She winced as several took flight, creating a wave of birds flying away from the door. They didn't go far, settling on furniture and crowding the shelves on the back side of the room. “Well. I guess this explains where all the birds went. Were they all crazy this morning when ponies were smashing up the place? What's going on?”

“What are they doing here?” Spike asked. He ducked when a red-breasted robin flew over his head. The little bird landed on a feeder, which looked empty. Many birds crowded around it, chirping and cooing.

“Hmm.” Twilight peered around the room. Actually, all of the bird feeders were empty. Several mice stood huddled in a corner under a chair. Little black beady eyes were everywhere, along with empty bowls too. “It doesn't look like she fed any of them.”

Frowning, she used her magic to open a cabinet across the room, flipping a latch and swinging open a pine door. Critters scattered away from it. She pulled out a large, white sack, tore it in half, and spilled a huge pile of seeds and grain in the middle of the room. In a massive shifting mob, it was immediately swarmed and carpeted with feathered and furry critters. Twilight gently stepped out and shut the door so as not to disturb them.

“Why didn't she feed them? Does this mean she's not home?” Spike asked, scratching his head.

“Probably. I should have known. Fuzzies almost always leave on their own.” Twilight sighed and hung her head. She sniffled. “She didn't even say goodbye.”

“Leave? As in gone forever?” Spike's eyes widened.

“It sure looks that way.” The noise in the cottage was full of scratching and shuffling. A few small gray birds flew out an open window near the back. “The Fluttershy I knew never neglected her animals. She'd be taking care of them if she were still here.” She rubbed her chin. “Maybe we should check the chickens too,” she mumbled and walked around the house.

“Where do you think she went?”

“I don't know.” The hens were out clucking in their pens, wandering around in the dirt and grass, pecking at the soil. Twilight examined the water trough, shook her head, and poured it out. She set a garden hose to fill it and then scooped out a cup full of dried corn from a barrel to throw to the birds. Beyond the fencing loomed the taller trees and dense undergrowth leading up to the Everfree Forest. She grimaced. “But I think I have an idea.”

“You think she went—” Spike shivered as he pointed a claw at a narrow path leading into the woods. “—there?”

“It's entirely possible. She's basically a wild animal herself now.”

The snap of a cracked twig caught their attention, along with something large and dark moving in the bushes. Twilight snorted, folded back her ears and illuminated her horn. Mindful of possible hecklers, she growled and scuffed the earth. The chickens bawked and fled to their hen houses. “Halt! Who goes there?” Twilight yelled.

The bushes rustled again and a mysterious pony stepped out. The figure was shrouded in black, wearing a long, flowing black trench coat that trailed along the ground, a thick, fuzzy black scarf around its neck, and a wide, black hat trimmed with dangling black tassels. Beneath the shadow were hints of a white coat and purple hair. Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Rarity? Is that you?”

The black-clad pony froze, as if placed under a spotlight. “Oh no no no, darling!” She paused, and coughed into her hoof. When she spoke again, it was in a fake, forced, hoarse voice. “It is I, the one, the only, Raspy Voice.”

“Riiight.” Twilight rolled her eyes. She turned off the water, closed the wire-mesh gate, and walked around the pen to meet with this 'stranger.'

Spike hopped off her back and walked over to shake 'Raspy's' hoof. “Hi. I'm Spike, and this is Twilight Sparkle. Have you seen Fluttershy?”

“Hmm, yes. The poor dear's had an awful time recently, you can't even imagine! We were having tea, discussing plans.”

Twilight blinked. “What? You did talk to her? But you said you weren't going to!”

“Oh? You must be referring to somepony else. I've never seen you before.”

Scowling and grating her teeth, Twilight yelled, “What if somepony saw you! You said it yourself. You can't be a respectable business pony if ponies think you're a sympathizer. You'd be ruined!”

Raspy tsked. She held Twilight at hoof's length, lightly shoving the frantic lavender unicorn aside. “Obviously you aren't talking about me, Raspy Voice, but about Rarity, the brilliant, resourceful, skilled—”

“Beautiful,” Spike added.

Grinning, the black shrouded pony flashed him a grin. “—oh, yes, she's quite lovely too, if a bit modest.”

Twilight shook her head. “Okay. I get it. So, Raspy, why are you here? It couldn't have been just to say goodbye. Stopping by for a few words doesn't take half the day.”

Harrumphing, Raspy stomped a hoof on the ground. “Twilight, I'll have you know that being a sympathizer is not a bad thing. Fluttershy's in a terrible spot right now. She's lost everything that's dear to her. Her whole life was torn away in one drastic, terrible moment. She's more distraught than anyone right now, and yet so few ponies even acknowledge her existence, let alone her suffering. I had to do something.”

“Uh...” Twilight frowned. Of course Rarity was right. It made her feel guilty about not thinking about the way Fluttershy felt, and then she felt guilty about feeling guilty. Fluttershy was a fuzzy, and sacrifices had to be made. The feelings of a monster can't outweigh the danger they pose. “I'm sorry, but I can't agree with that. I mean, I know where you're coming from, be we can't let our memories of Fluttershy get in the way of our better judgment. Once a pony has turned into a fuzzy they're already gone.”

Raspy gasped, dramatically holding a hoof to her face. She wavered as if struck by a terrible blow. “I would not expect you of all ponies to give up without even trying to save her!”

“No! It's not like that! I already checked everything that I can!” Twilight clenched and gritted her teeth. “But there really is nothing I can do. I even asked Celestia and—”

“Technically, I'm the one who—” Spike said, before Twilight nudged him with a hind leg, pushing him over.

“—she didn't know of anything, either. All she told me to do is to talk to my friends.”

“Ah.” Raspy rubbed her chin, tugging at her fluffy black scarf. “That is a shame. If anypony would have known of a cure it would probably have been her. You don't suppose the Elements of Harmony...?”

Twilight shook her head. “No. I don't think we can target ourselves, and we can't even use them without her in the first place. Plus, magic and fuzzies...”

“Oh. True. Well. That would complicate matters. If only things were that easy.”

“Yeah...” Twilight swished her tail. “But they're not. The best we can do is to sever our ties and say goodbye. Speaking of which...” She took on a louder, patronizing tone.

“I will most certainly not!” Raspy put her hoof down. “Twilight, I don't know what you've been told all your life, but most ponies have it all wrong about fuzzies. They aren't animals.”

“Of course they are! It's their sole defining feature.”

“They're half animals. They still have pony minds, pony dreams, and yes, even mostly pony bodies. They can think for themselves. They can choose to act like ponies. They even have cutie marks! Their purpose does not have to be lost.”

“Oh please,” Twilight waved a hoof dismissively. “You can say all that stuff about the animal side too. At some point they go crazy. They always do. I know you want to help Fluttershy, but it's not worth the risk. You don't have to make up a bunch of excuses. Don't delude yourself just to help her. I mean, do what you can, but at some point you'll have to stop and leave it at that.”

Spike scratched his head.

Raspy clenched her teeth. She pulled her hat low over her face, swinging the tassels. “Twilight, I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but I'm not doing this just for Fluttershy. I've always been a sympathizer.”

“WHAT!?”

“Yes. And proud of it.” Holding her head high, Raspy tugged her scarf to keep her neck shrouded. “You remember when you discovered that Fluttershy was a, nng, a fuzzy?”

“Her tail came off. It was the most disturbing thing I'd ever seen.”

“Imagine if it had not. You would have spent the whole day with her, none the wiser, and nothing would have happened.”

“Um...”

“Imagine, if you will, a group of ponies called the, erm, let's call them the Needle's Eye. They dedicate themselves to making disguises, working magic with needle and thread—”

“Rarity's really good with thread too,” Spike said.

Raspy wanly chuckled. “Uh, yes, she's something of an idol of mine. Anyway, we make disguises built to last, hiding everything we can with clothing, and for the things we can't hide, there are spells—”

“You can't use magic on a fuzzy!” Twilight cut in. “Not like that! Are you trying to make things worse?”

Raspy scrunched up her face. “Oh no no no, dear.” She shook her head vehemently, swinging the tassels wide. “We know better than that. The enchantments are on the clothing. The point is, after a fuzzy is spotted, we swoop in, rescue them, give them a makeover, and they can get a second chance to live a relatively normal life someplace far off where nopony will ever recognize them.”

Twilight gaped. “A-are you telling me that we have fuzzies living in secret amongst us? That you're putting us all at serious risk?”

“No. There's no risk. They'd be discovered if they did anything wrong. They live with that fear every day. That makes them far more peaceful than most ponies. They keep to themselves, often living alone.”

“I-I...” Twilight opened and shut her jaw. She clenched her eyes shut. “And what if they do their mauling in secret too? Have you thought of that?”

“I think they'd be discovered and thrown in jail, just like anypony else.” Raspy sighed. “I'm not saying they don't have bad eggs but you're completely misjudging them. They're not that bad, really now.”

Twilight shook her head. “What do you want me to say? That you've changed my mind? Completely shattered my world view?”

“Well, that would be nice.”

“I can't do that. I know in my heart that what you're saying is wrong somehow. Just because I can't think of a good reason doesn't mean there isn't one. Don't fuzzies disgust you?”

“I don't think that 'disgust' is quite the word—”

“Of course they do! Because you spend your time making them go away so you don't have to look at them. Do you even know which ponies are the fuzzies living in Ponyville?”

“That's hardly fair.” Raspy tapped her hooves together. “For safety reasons, we don't share information unless it's absolutely necessary.”

“And how deep does this conspiracy go? Are all the fashion designers in on it?”

“Well, no. For most of us sympathizers, sewing's just a hobby, and some set the fashions rather than make anything themselves.”

“Sapphire Shores! I should have known!” Twilight narrowed her eyes and fumed. “That song of hers was really suspicious.”

“You're not being fair! You can't go off on sympathizers just because we don't like fuzzies, either. Nopony does. That's the whole reason they even need ponies who are sympathetic in the first place.”

Twilight sighed and shook her head. “I don't know, Rar—Raspy. It just seems like it's not worth it. What if they get found out? Ponies are going to ask a lot of questions, and fabric can be traced, especially when enchanted. Even if fuzzies aren't as bad as the stories make them sound, other ponies aren't going to believe that. Crowds with pitchforks don't listen to reason. It's too risky.”

“Fluttershy is worth the risk.”

Twilight bit her lip. She tried to follow Rarity's logic. Fuzzies weren't as bad as the stories? She didn't believe that, but she could believe it of Fluttershy. But she also couldn't see other ponies believing that, especially after surveying the damage to her cottage. The risk was very real and Fluttersy was still a fuzzy even if she wasn't a bad one. Why risk so much for something that was basically nothing? Fluttershy was nothing? Twilight shuddered. She was giving herself chills. It seemed true, but...

Raspy pointed down the path. “I might not be able to convince you, but I think she can. Talk to her. If you can get over the shock of how she looks, than you'll see that she hasn't changed one bit. You'll see that she's not a villain, only a victim of cruel fate. When you see the sadness in her eyes, you'll know she's worth every bit of risk. You'd do anything to keep a friend safe.”

Twilight was silent, holding her tongue. She looked at Spike, who returned her gaze. His eyes were wide, innocent, and watching her closely. “Fine,” she said, “I'll do it, but I don't expect to be wrong.”

“Nopony does.” Raspy fidgeted with her scarf and tilted her hat so that her head was more fully covered. “Fluttershy's down the path by the clearing. And with that I must be off. Farewell, we will probably never meet again!”

Twilight rolled her eyes.

“Bye, Raspy Voice,” Spike said, waving. When she was gone, he turned to Twilight and asked, “Is it just me, or did Raspy sound a lot like Rarity?”

Twilight facehoofed.

A Talk with a Tiger

Now that birds were returning to the skies, the eerie stillness had been broken. Trees thinned as they got closer to the clearing. Butterflies fluttered around the bushes, stopping to suck nectar from large clumps of white blooms. Twilight took soft steps, moving slowly and carefully. Her ears were perked up, swiveling around at the slightest hint of any noise.

Spike grew impatient with the slow pace. “Are we—”

“Ssh!” she admonished, hushing him. She twisted her head around to talk directly into his ear. “I think she's close,” she whispered. “I want to get a good look at her before she sees us.”

He nodded, hopping down as Twilight crept off the path to slink into a bush. With a thin layer of leaves shrouding them from view, they peered out into an open clearing. Spike squinted while Twilight donned a pair of binoculars.

Fluttershy was alone, packing up the remains of a long picnic. Without any disguise, her animal features were plainly visible. She had a long, striped, furry tail that flicked about as she folded up a pink sheet. The black striping marred her soft yellow body, extending all the way up her spine until her pink, flowing mane took over. It also crept down the back sides of her legs, going down to her knees before tapering off. Her wings and hooves weren't affected.

Grimacing, Twilight set down her binoculars. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this. It's a fuzzy alright, but it's also Fluttershy. I need to give her a chance to prove herself.”

“That's it?” Spike asked. “For all the fuss I thought she'd look a lot more ferocious or something.”

Fluttershy's wide, striped, fuzzy ears perked up. She stopped packing her picnic and turned to look at the offending bush. “Is somepony there?”

Taking a deep breath, Twilight broke cover and stepped out. She stopped short, leaving a large gap between them, standing at the edge of the forest. “Hi. It's me.” She grinned and waved.

Spike ran out, bounding across the field. Butterflies and grasshoppers scrambled out of his way, and he knocked the puff off a dandelion. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said, picking up Fluttershy's dirty dishes and stacking them in her picnic basket.

“Oh. Thanks, Spike.” Turning to look across the field, she waved, hesitantly. “Um. Hi, Twilight.”

Groaning, the lavender unicorn slowly crossed the gap. “Uh, heh-heh. H-hi,” she stammered. “How are you doing?”

“Awful.” Fluttershy drooped her head.

“R-right, of course.” Twilight gulped. “I'm sorry about what happened to you. I, uh...” Trailing off, she stared into Fluttershy's eyes. They weren't green like before. Her iris had its usual teal hue, but her pupils were slit vertically.

“I'm a monster.” The dejected cat hybrid scraped a hoof on the grass. “You shouldn't be here.”

“What? No you're not,” Spike said. He put the last item in the basket and looked up at her. “You're Fluttershy.”

“Spike, I have fangs!” Baring her teeth, she spread her mouth. She did indeed have pointed canines, but they were subtle, hardly sticking out and not very noticeable. Twilight subconsciously ran a tongue over her own teeth. She had bumpy, crushing molars and thin, cutting incisors but nothing sharp, pointed and piercing.

“So? You have fangs now.” He picked up the basket and looked around. Fluttershy's saddlebags were nearby, lying on the ground. Walking over, he stuffed the basket into the left side. “Mine are bigger.”

Twilight stepped in and blocked him from walking back to her. He frowned. “I think that what Fluttershy means to say is that she has uncontrollable urges and that it isn't safe to be around her.”

“What? That's nonsense!” Spike yelled.

“It's true.” Fluttershy shut her mouth and clenched her eyes shut. “I-I...” She took a step back. “I have a serious problem,” she squeaked, wincing and averting her gaze.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes and say well duh, Twilight bit her lip. “Go on.”

Fluttershy sat there, silent. Her breathing was rapid, and her eyes watered. A small red robin chirped and flew down. He landed on her head, tweeting at her. “N-no! Get away from me!” Flailing her legs, she startled the critter, forcing him to fly off. She then collapsed on the ground, burying her head under her forelegs.

“You're afraid of birds now?” Spike asked.

“No. T-that's not it. I-I.. They...” Sniffling, Fluttershy peered at them through a gap in her legs. “They look tasty!” she blurted out.

“What?” Spike scratched his head.

“That does make sense.” Twilight rubbed her chin, staring up at the bird flying away. “You are part tiger now. So it makes sense if you're starting to think like one too.”

“But I don't want to think like a tiger. I-I can't be around animals if a part of me wants to eat them.” She choked, broke down and started sobbing in the grass.

“I guess that explains why she hadn't fed them,” Spike said.

Jerking up, Fluttershy's eyes were red and puffy, her mane ragged and wild. “Oh no! I haven't fed them!”

“Wait. Calm down. We took care of it,” Twilight said, holding out her hoof.

Fluttershy had one leg raised, glancing back at the path leading back to her cottage. “You-you did?” she asked, turning back to face them.

“Yep!” Spike said, brushing his hands together. “All taken care of.”

Wavering, Fluttershy collapsed back on the ground. “I-I can't even take care of the animals anymore.”

Twilight curled her lips down, eyes wide as she stared at the sorry, crying mass of yellow, pink, and black stripes. She did still have her cutie mark, which hadn't changed from three pink butterflies. “A-actully...” She rubbed the back of her neck, ruffling her deep blue mane. “I'm pretty sure you can. I think I might know something that can help with your problem. Tell me, when was the last time you ate?”

“Um. Just now. I had tea and a salad, why?”

“And it wasn't very filling, was it?”

“...No.”

Twilight nodded. “I thought so. As part predator, your body has different needs now. You'll want to supplement your diet with more protein. Go for fish, eggs, whole milk, uh... I guess you could even eat stuff like dog and cat food too if you really had to.”

“What?” Fluttershy blinked. “That's, um... I kinda thought... I can't believe cat food sounds good.”

“Don't worry. You won't get sick, and you won't have to worry about your critter friends looking tasty if you're properly fed.”

“That's not what I meant. I can't be a real pony if I have to go on a weird diet.”

“Huh?” Twilight cocked her head. “But you aren't a real pony—not anymore.”

Shaking her head, Fluttershy got back up and held a hoof in front of her face. She twisted it side to side, staring at the stripes spread down behind her shoulders. “Rarity kept insisting that nothing had really changed, that everything was the same, that even if I looked different, that I was still the same pony inside. She said she could make everything work out, but she wouldn't look me in the eye. She didn't want to talk about my... stripes, only how to hide them, to live a lie...”

“Are you really thinking of leaving?” Twilight asked.

Fluttershy sighed and lowered her head. “I don't know. I don't want to. Everything I know and love is here.”

“Yeah! You have us, your friends,” Spike said.

She flexed her wings, staring at her pale yellow plumage. “And that's exactly why I really should leave. I'm putting you all at risk just by being here.”

“What?” Spike blinked. “Are you really worried about attacking someone?”

“No! I-I'd never do that!” She shuddered and curled down into a ball. “It's not me. Everypony hates me, they—”

“Everypony doesn't hate you,” Spike said. He took a step towards her.

Twilight put a hoof down in front of him. She shook her head when he glared up at her. “Actually, they kinda do. Fuzzies are shunned on sight, and you saw what they did to her house.”

“They did what to my house?” Fluttershy's eyes widened.

“Um. Broke a few windows, made a mess of the flower garden.” Twilight rubbed the back of her head. She tried to hide a cringe by grinning, and wound up bearing her teeth. “Rainbow Dash chased them off before they could do anything else.”

Spike frowned. “And you—”

“Not now,” Twilight hissed, shushing the little dragon.

“And what if they hadn't stopped? She could have gotten hurt.” Fluttershy bit her lip, then recoiled, opening her mouth and touching her fangs with her tongue.

Twilight looked at the sky. “Fluttershy, I... I'm curious. How did you feel about fuzzies before, well...”

“I don't know. I never really thought about it. I guess, if I have to pick something, that I pitied them. I felt sorry for them. I didn't care enough to have much of an opinion.”

“And now?” Twilight asked.

“I hate them, of course.” She practically spat the words, nearly growling.

“What? But how can you hate them?” Spike asked. “You are one.”

“I don't recognize myself in the mirror. My skin doesn't feel right. My little friends smell like food. Everypony shuns me and I agree with them. I-I just want to tear it all off, to be done with it forever, but I can't. I'm... I-I'm...” she broke off sniffling and covered her face. Tears dripped off her chin as she sobbed softly in the clear meadow.

Brushing past Twilight's leg, Spike ran over and gave her a hug. Fluttershy scooped him up, holding him tight like a doll. Twilight winced, and averted her gaze. The sky was nice a blue, with only a few puffs of cloud in the sky, wispy and curly like mare's tails. A small flock of bids flew overhead, geese, probably, lined up that distinctive 'V' shape.

“Thanks, Spike. I needed that.”

“No problem.”

Twilight clenched her jaw. She remained staring at the sky. “I guess I never really thought about that. Just because somepony turns into a fuzzy doesn't mean that they stop hating them. No wonder fuggles even exist. I often wondered why, but now? I can't say that I blame them.”

“You don't have to worry. I'm not going to do that to myself.” Fluttershy shook her head. She set Spike down and went back to examining the stripes on her foreleg. “I guess... being part tiger fuzzy isn't too bad.” Sighing, she looked up, and her eyes followed birds perched in the tulip poplars at the edge of the clearing. Some squirrels darted around, climbing up an old, gnarled oak. “But if I had a choice, I'd rather be a tree.”

Wincing, Spike held up his arms and frantically shook his head. Twilight frowned at him, but said nothing.

Fluttershy clenched her eyes and lowered her head. “Twilight, I—” Taking a deep breath, she flexed her wings, then raised her head, turning to face them. Worry lines marred her face. “Is there anything else I should know about being a fuzzy?”

“Actually... yeah.” Twilight gulped. “I, uh... you...” She took a deep breath herself and her ears drooped. “First of all, you're currently about twenty percent tiger. Your condition will gradually worsen over time, but under normal circumstances, should stop at no more than fifty percent. Exposure to magic can accelerate this process, so avoid it if possible. Thankfully, you're not a unicorn so you shouldn't have to worry about that.”

“It gets worse?” She frowned and shut her eyes.

“Yes, but it takes years. The change is gradual from this point on.”

“And there's no way to stop it?”

“Unfortunately, no. Fuzzies respond oddly to magic, and herbal remedies known to reverse transformation and break curses have no effect. It's as if this is your true form. It's befuddled some of the smartest minds for centuries.”

“Ah.” Fluttershy hung her head. “Anything else?”

Twilight bit her lip. “Well...” She scuffed her hoof in the grass. “Fuzzies, on average, have a shorter lifespan by about ten to twenty years. The good news is that this isn't due to your change, directly, but the bad news it that it tends to result from related conditions. Most fuzzies don't know how to take care of themselves, resulting in poor health from malnutrition. It's also difficult to treat diseases and other ailments due to poor access to medical care and an innate corruption of magic. High stress, depression, isolation, and self-loathing are also chronic conditions common among fuzzies.”

“Figured as much.” Fluttershy shook her head. “Fuzzies just wander off and disappear, but something has to finish them off eventually.”

“Don't be so glum.” Spike lifted his chin up and grinned. “You'll always have your animal friends, and you can take care of each other.”

“Um... I guess so.”

“There is one last thing that's very important.” Twilight folded her ears back and glanced away, so as not to look her in the eyes. “I don't think there's any good way of breaking this, but, uh, you weren't thinking of having children, were you?”

“What? I... I always assumed...” She sat there, staring at the grass. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she sniffled. “I guess no stallion would ever want a freak like me.”

“It's not that.” Twilight shook her head. “Fuzzies are infertile. The mixed biology messes everything up. Neither stallions nor tigers—”

“Tigers?” Fluttershy's eyes went wide. “W-why would... who would...”

Twilight winced as if she'd been hit. She rubbed her cheek. “Uh, I guess it's a good thing they don't live around here. But if you ever visit the jungle at exactly the wrong time of year, you, uh, may experience some unwanted attention.”

“Oh. Oh my.” Her cheeks flushed and she glanced up at the sky. “I guess I really am different. The thought of... tigers... isn't instantly revolting. Hmm, I wonder if I could get a tiger disguise from Rarity too. I know she's emphasized my pony side, but... having a backup couldn't hurt.”

“Couldn't hurt, riiight...” Twilight took a step back. “And they call other ponies beast lovers,” she muttered to herself under her breath.

“What are you talking about?” Spike asked.

“It's nothing.” Shaking her head vigorously, Twilight's mane flipped out in a wide circle. “Don't worry about it.”

Hesitantly, Fluttershy took a step towards them. “Twilight, I... I'm glad you came to see me. You've been very helpful. I'll never be the same, but, uh, you've helped me better understand what it means to be, um, what I am.”

“You're welcome, I guess. Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news.”

Shying back, Fluttershy, pawed at the grass. Then she took a stride forward, reaching out for a hug.

“Don't touch me!” Twilight screamed. She jerked back, recoiling and throwing a hoof up to shield her face. She breathed heavily, practically panting.

Fluttershy's catlike eyes watered and her lips wavered. She set her hooves back on the ground and her fuzzy, striped ears folded back. She sniffled.

“S-sorry,” Twilight said. “You startled me.”

Whisking her head away, Flutteshy talked to the trees. “No no. I-it's okay. I wouldn't want to hug a f-freak like me either.” She choked, and tears ran down her cheeks. “I-I'd better go board up my windows or s-something.”

Twilight hung her head, saying nothing as Fluttershy ran off.

“Why did you do that? She was almost starting to feel better about herself,” Spike asked. He walked over and picked up the forgotten saddlebags.

“I didn't mean to. I just panicked.” Standing up, Twilight took a deep sigh. She plucked the bags out of Spike's hands with her magic and draped them over her own back. “I guess I'll just leave these on her back porch. She'll find them the next time she feeds the chickens.”

“So... when she mentioned being a tree, I was worried you might—”

Twilight shook her head. “It wouldn't have worked. It's not a cure. Sure, I might have turned her into a cherry tree, but she'd wind up growing acorns or pine cones or have hairy spider legs for branches or something.”

He shuddered. “But...” He scratched his head. “How do you know all this about fuzzies, anyway?”

“They come up a lot in magic history. In ancient times, fuzzies used to be used as research subjects. You remember when I mentioned a third type of fuzzy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, repeated exposure to high levels of magic, particularly transformative, can result in the subject taking on the characteristics of multiple types of animals at once. With each subsequent alteration, they become more wild and chaotic, both in appearance and temperament. A fuzzy who has degraded like that is known as a composite horror. There's a good reason that such practices have long since been banned.”

“Yeesh.” He winced. “So has talking to Fluttershy changed your mind about fuzzies?”

“My mind?” Twilight frowned. “Dunno, maybe. I'm hesitant to jump to conclusions based on a small sample of observational data. Celestia will be wanting a report on this, so let me compile my research notes and I'll get back to you.” She sighed and rubbed her head. “I have a lot to think about.”

“You know. You never did say goodbye.”

Twilight winced and hung her head. “No. No I did not. I meant to, but, even with her catlike features, I...” she bit her lip and fought back a watering of her eyes. “I guess I do understand Rarity a whole lot better now.”

Rain

It was well into the night, and a light drizzle poured outside. Splattering droplets filtered through the leaves of the Golden Oaks Library, creating a steady pitter patter in the background. Candlelight flickered in an unseen breeze, dancing long shadows along the walls. Spike had long since gone to bed, while Twilight struggled to make sense of it all. She sat at her writing desk, working on her friendship report.

This should be easy. I know what a fuzzy is, what they are like, and I know in my heart that they are rotten, but at the same time, I find myself at odds with many of my friends.

Twilight shook her head. She dipped her quill in an ink pot and went back to work.

I was asked to listen, and like any dutiful student, I have done as requested. Compiled here is a report of my friend's opinions, along with my reactions. Starting this list is Applejack.

I've always admired her honesty, and this matter was no exception. She immediately recognized Fluttershy as a lost cause, and while talking to her pained me greatly, it was also refreshing to be around another who saw the world so clearly. If I could point to one pony whom I agreed with the most, it would be Applejack, though I've since learned that clarity may have been due to a lack of vision.

Twilight frowned. “Lack of vision? What am I writing? Gah. I really messed this up.” She reached to crumple the paper, but hesitated. “Well, I can always write a second draft later.” Dipping the quill back in the inkwell, the steady drumming of rain marched on, as did her report.

When I first talked to Rarity, she seemed to understand the situation quite well. Fluttershy was a lost cause, and associating with her could ruin her career. She didn't like it, but neither did I. If only she had left things at that. I would not learn of her dark side until later.

Pinkie Pie

Twilight shuddered, splattering the sheet with an ink blob.

Let's not talk about Pinkie Pie. I'll talk about her later.

Frowning, Twilight stared at what she wrote. “Dark side... Pinkie Pie... This doesn't sound much like a friendship report. Am I missing something? What am I supposed to learn other than my friends are a bunch of freaks?” She shook her head. “No. That's not quite right. They can be reasonable too.”

Rainbow Dash chose to stand up for Fluttershy, despite her change into a horrible beast. I applaud Rainbow for chasing off vandals and hecklers, but at the same time, it confused me greatly. I know for a fact that she hates fuzzies even more than I do, so why would she do that? Now, don't get me wrong, vandals and hecklers give us good ponies a bad image, so I'm not complaining. I just didn't understand. After talking to her, it didn't take much to discern the problem. She was still thinking of Fluttershy as a pony, and not a fuzzy. Thankfully, I was able to set her straight though I since regret doing that.

Twilight slapped a hoof on the desk and shook her head. She got up and pulled out a fresh candle from her nightstand. After lighting it, she snuffed the short, dribbling stub and set it aside to cool down. A thin wisp of smoke filled the room with the crisp scent of ash.

Okay. I just want to make it clear that I don't hate Fluttershy, because my report so far sure makes it sound that way. I'm just being logical. Logic can be cold. She might be the kindest, gentlest pony thing I know, but, but...

Moving on, I had the good misfortune of running into Rarity a second time. She was disguised, poorly I might add, but I guess she didn't expect to run into somepony who would recognize her instantly. As it turns out, her prior proclivities were a lie, and the very first thing she did was to go hobnob with Fluttershy in some sort of misguided altruism.

Groaning, Twilight frowned as the first single drop of molten wax dribbled down the side of her brand new candle.

Okay. I can understand where she's coming from. Her aversion to fuzzies is much like my own, but rather than shunning them like a normal pony, she chooses to channel that energy into turning them back into 'real' ponies. Not with a cure. Not with magic, but by disguising them so that they can live among us undetected. The thought just makes my skin crawl.

Her logic is fairly simple, and I can't refute it,

If a fuzzy can act like a pony and look like a pony then they can be accepted as a pony. It's fine, in theory, but fuzzies are neither ponies, nor are disguises infallible. Should they be discovered, well, Sapphire Shores isn't always going to be around to bail them out.

Twilight rubbed her temple. “I'm writing what I think, what I know, but why does it still feel as if I'm missing something important? I should have learned something, right? Something about the magic of friendship?”

Rarity should be ashamed of herself. Even Fluttershy knows she's a horrible monster.

“Uh...”

I want to reiterate that Fluttershy has been a good friend to me. It's truly a tragedy for something so horrible to happen to such a nice pony. My heart

“I feel so conflicted right now.”

Is this what I'm supposed to discover? That this fuzzy thing is driving us apart? Well, duh. Even Fluttershy acknowledges that she's a horrible monster. I can't make friends with monsters. Neither can anypony else, well, anypony who knows what's good for them. Yes. I will miss Fluttershy. No. I can't

Before I talk myself in circles, I will say a few words about my chat with Fluttershy. Yes, I did give her a chance. No, it did not end well.

Twilight got up and stretched. She smacked her lips, and looked drearily out the dark, rainy window. She sighed and settled back down to keep writing.

Basically, my biggest problem is that she literally confirmed that every single thing I ever heard about fuzzies is actually true. She looks like a monster. She has bestial instincts. She's lost part of what made her a pony. She's confused. She hates herself. She has trouble functioning normally. And... one other rumor that I'd hoped was more hearsay than truth. She even acknowledged that she was a danger to others, but, she blamed this on the ponies who hate her rather than being a danger herself.

That last part, at least, is true. I'd look like an idiot if I tried to stay friends with her, and my other friends would lose their dreams and their livelihoods, and it's all due to the way that society shuns fuzzies and anypony who associates with them. Fluttershy herself is still the same kind and gentle po being I've always known. I couldn't imagine her hurting a fly even if she was five hundred tails high and covered in wild, flailing, spiky tentacles, something that could actually happen if

“Uh... It's probably best if I don't mention the tree thing.”

I guess this brings me back to Pinkie Pie. I have to say, I've never experienced such vile repulsion for a single pony in my entire life as I did for her at that very moment. No, it wasn't due to the strange trip to crazy town. (What does she think she is? Some kind of closet vaudeville comedian?)

It was because she's a beast lover. I-I... even if my other friends are wrong, they still at least have the wherewithal to understand that what they're doing isn't right, but Pinkie... she thinks wrong. It's like her brain is damaged. She's just not normal. She treats holding Fluttershy's horrid striped tail as no different from examining the feel of a silk fabric, and that's not even the worst of it. To her, everypony else is wrong. She wants us all to think like her!

Twilight shuddered.

Yes, I know, I want that too, but I have the advantage of being right. At least other ponies agree with me! I guess it's odd, in a way, because Spike isn't bothered by Fluttershy either, and yet, it's Pinkie that revolts me.

“Now I'm confused.” Twilight scratched her head. “It's late, I guess. I never did figure out what was bothering me. I might as well just wrap this up and go to bed.”

I guess I learned something about myself? That beast lovers are even more revolting than fuzzies, excepting when said fuzzy tries to hug me? N-not that I hate said fuzzy, or either of them, of course. It's just a reasonable, logical reaction to want to keep my distance.

I certainly learned a lot about my friends. Applejack and, oddly, Fluttershy have the clearest, most sensible heads, while Rainbow Dash could be reasoned with. Rarity is misguided, and I'm going to have nightmares about the fuzzy underground conspiracy; I just know it. While Pinkie...

I still can't get over Pinkie. In a way, she's even more disturbing than the thought of fuzzies living secretly in town. It's like she was born with some kind of freakish, vile, inability to hate—

Twilight's quill snapped, and she stared at what she wrote. Inability to hate. Inability to hate. No, that—that had to be wrong, but it wasn't. It was true. But if that was true, then what of herself? Her heart sank. In a soft whisper, her lips barely moved. “I've been lying to myself. I do hate Fluttershy.”

This simple admission opened a floodgate of bottled emotions. She felt sick to her stomach. “Sweet Celestia, what is wrong with me?”

Clenching her teeth, she tore at the papers, ripping them from her journal, wadding them up and slamming them onto the ground. “Gah! I can't believe it! Me? I'm the normal one?” She huffed, breath ragged and raspy. Rain continued to pour down.

Crumpling on the floor, she slammed a hoof on the ground. “I have a rotten heart.” She sobbed like the rain, steadily throughout the night.

A Theory

In the morning, Twilight was a ragged, dreary broken shell of her former self. Wrapped with a blanket, she stared at a steaming cup of hot coco. A white marshmallow dissolved into cream foam as it slowly melted in brown, bitter fluid.

“Good morning, Twilight!” Spike said as he yawned and stretched. His cup clacked as he stirred his coco with a wooden spoon.

She grunted, moaned and tugged her sheets closer.

“Did you finish your report last night?”

Sighing, she blew on her cup, and steam billowed off the surface. After a sluggish wait, she shrugged off her blanket and stared at the ceiling. “...no, but I did make progress.”

The dragon just gulped his coco down, hot steam and all. The searing heat didn't bother him one bit. He wiped his mouth and set the empty cup down on a silver platter.

“Spike, I had a revelation last night. What is more important, friendship or following your heart?”

“Isn't that the same thing?”

“Er, instincts, not heart.” Twilight blew at her mug, causing the foam to swirl around. Why did she say heart? She must still be having trouble coming to grips with this.

“Friendship of course,” Spike said. He gave her an odd look, as if wondering why that was even a question.

Twilight certainly wondered too. “Yes. Of course it is. I've been looking at this all wrong. I can't let this tear us apart. Our friendship is just too important, and that's really what's at stake. I've got to find some way of fixing the real problem.” She picked up her cup and tested the temperature with the tip of her tongue. When she didn't get burned, she took a dainty sip.

“The real problem? You mean losing her as a friend?” he asked.

The liquid was still to hot to drink quickly, and she set her cup back down. She nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I do. I've been thinking about this a lot, and developed a plan. But first, I'd like to propose a theory. I can't address the situation unless I properly understand it. Spike, are you familiar with the concept of evolution?”

“Uh, yeah. The things that are bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter do better and pass on those traits so that species gradually improve over time. So what might start off as a tiny lizard eventually winds up as a fearsome dragon.”

“Not exactly. That's a common misconception.” Twilight shook her head. “Evolution actually favors simpler solutions. Complexity only arises when there are enough resources to support it.”

“Huh?”

“But you do get the general idea, namely that what survives goes on to reproduce.” Twilight stared at her cup, and took a deeper swig. She smacked her lips and licked the foam off her cheeks. “But it isn't all fire-breath and roses. Spike, one of the most defining features of fuzzies is that they can't reproduce. They're always sterile. According to evolution, why do they even exist?”

He scratched his head. “They shouldn't.”

“They're a mistake of some sort. But the one thing that's truest about evolution is that it's a far cry from intelligent design. Mistakes are a part of life. There must be something about ponies, and animals in general, which allows them to happen. Some way we're built, some way we handle magic, perhaps it's even part of the mechanism which allows for variation in the first place.”

“That makes sense, I guess. You can't have things that are better if everything's the same.” Spike sat on the floor and stared at her. She gave him a warm smile.

“Yes. That's it exactly. Fuzzies might be an obvious mistake, but we're still better off with them than we would be if we weren't able to grow and adapt as a species, and thus they persist. Still, it does present a rather unfortunate dilemma. What happens to the rejects? Evolution must have something to say about that too, right? Animals might do whatever they want, but ponies form strong bonds and mate for life.”

“Um...”

“In order to 'protect' us from making a bad choice, evolution has 'gifted' us with a strong gut reaction against fuzzies that's capable of breaking those bonds. In addition, fuzzies are shunned, ostracized, and exiled so as not to waste a tribe's limited resources, well, not so limited after the tribes unified, but it resources were really tight in the old days.”

“Ouch.” He winced.

“Mind you, this is just my theory, and there are others, and this requires further study, but it all makes sense given what I know. It's easier to sweep a mistake under the rug, so to speak, than it is to fix it in the first place. And, as I've said before, evolution tends to prefer the simpler solution.”

“Other theories? What else could explain it?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Well, fuzzies have been around as long as anypony can remember, so the other ideas tend to be myths and legends. One of the more common ones being an ancient spirit of disharmony cursing pony kind to reshape us in its image, and sow chaos in our ranks.” She shook her head. “Dumb I know. Fuzzies are all kinds of hybrids, so how could that be 'in its image?' I prefer something that can be explained by science.” She finished off the rest of her drink with a big gulp and wiped the foam from her lips.

“What are you planning to do?” Spike asked. He got up to pick up the dishes now that Twilight was done.

“If I'm right, I may have an opportunity to finally fix this mess.”

“Fix it?” he raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Ponies have reached a point where we can alter the nature of the universe itself. We've claimed dominion over the heavens, the sky and the earth. Evolution might be a force of nature, but we can shape nature to our will. It's time to bring an end to all this hatred for good. Spike, I want you to call for a townhall. Gather everypony you can and tell them to meet up at the town square at noon. The stage from the festival should still be there.”

“Um...” He dashed off to the kitchen and chucked the dishes into the sink. When he came back, he pointed at the books lining the walls. “So... will you be wanting Mass Hypnosis: Fun for Everypony or Brainwashing Villages for Dummies, Because Only Dummies Brainwash Villages?”

Twilight snorted. She gave him a flat stare. “Not this time, Spike. This is serious. Bring me my stack of notes cards and that old soap box. I'm going to lecture them.”

Epilogue

That picture was all over newspapers the following morning. “True Friendship Prevails?” was one headline.

Breaking news!

The latest twist in the ongoing saga of Fluttershy the fuzzy is perhaps the most stunning yet. Twilight Sparkle gathered the whole town together to deliver not a eulogy and farewell, but a moving plea to abandon hatred altogether and accept fuzzies with open hearts. Understandably, ponies were quite upset, shouting all kinds of horrible things at her.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

Somehow, she maintained control of an increasingly rowdy crowd long enough to deliver her message, and what a doozy it was. According to her vision of the world, it's our hatred of fuzzies, and not the fuzzies themselves, that's the problem. That might seem backwards, but it's not all that much different from age-old arguments whispered in back alleys and behind closed doors.

Ponies have had a long history gravitating towards the gilded tongues of beast lovers. Not many, of course, but enough to be a nuisance. Throughout the ages, those first sympathizers would whisper messages of hope and love, bringing together ponies and fuzzies in secret. But in the grand scheme of things, the effort was mere chaff in the wind. Society as a whole held its collective nose and waved the foul air away. Nothing ever changed.

But this time was different. Something truly magical happened on that stage. It really felt like Twilight made a difference.

Never before has such a well-respected group of ponies stood together in unity with a fuzzy. Never before has a fuzzy stood up for herself and commanded anything resembling respect. Never before has a message of hope and love penetrated on such a wide scale, to so many ponies at once. They cheered! They actually cheered!

And you know what? She deserved it because she's right. It's high time that we stop blaming the victims for something that was never a choice in the first place. Fuzzies have been treated so poorly as to be downright cruel, and it needs to end. Families should not be torn apart at the drop of a hat! An entire squadron of Wonderbolts is not needed to tackle one target who is running away!

Consider, if you will, the forlorn fate of the flying fox filly.

Like most fuzzies, a once bright-eyed, cheerful earth pony had her life stolen and dreams crushed by this curse. She'd been cast out of her home without so much as a single bit to her name simply because she'd had the gumption to sprout leathery wings and fuzz-tufted ears. Desperate for food and shelter, she tried to fit in with a bat pony colony but got exposed when she couldn't walk on clouds. Guess who got charged for all the fine china that got broken when hurled against her hide? The logic being that if she hadn't been such a tempting target, then nothing would have been damaged in the first place. To pay off her debt, she was sentenced to five consecutive life sentences working the guano pits.

So yeah, when Twilight got up there and said it's our own hatred that's the problem and not the fuzzies themselves, she was clearly onto something. Hatred is a powerful force, but we shouldn't let it control our lives. Take her advice. Look beyond your disgust for fuzzies and find those old bonds of friendship and love. They were never truly broken, only smothered, suppressed. Take that first step; lift the weight of hatred from your heart. Give hope a chance.

-FP

"She was obviously a beast lover so I spent the whole time not listening."; "Meh. So she doesn't want to kick Fluttershy out? So what? Don't get in all our faces about it."; "Did you say something? My ears are still ringing." Local residents give poor reviews to supposedly inspiring... [Continued on page 8]

"I'm proud to have Twilight Sparkle as my student," Princess Celestia said last night. This would not be controversial in ordinary circumstances, but given the timing... [Continued on page 3]

A fight broke out in a local bar over what, exactly, constituted 'mass brainwashing,' and the demand for eggplants has spiked... [Continued on page 6]

“You wrote this crap, didn't you?” A gruff, sour-faced stallion with a stubble beard, rusty mane, and rough, brown coat slapped a hoof against the daily news. He crumpled it up, snorted, and threw the ball in the dirt. Flapping his wings, he set the thing bouncing, rolling out of sight. Nearby bushes rustled. All were green and leafy, except for one which sported red berries.

Standing before him was a pale blue, pudgy unicorn with a tan hat that had a press pass stuffed in the brim, the universal symbol of a reporter. This portly stallion pulled a pencil from behind his ear and levitated a notepad in his creamy white glow. “Yes.” He nodded. “I did. I'm Flash Print, and I work for the Manehatten Minutes. You're Autumn Leaf, I presume?”

The old pegasus grunted, curling down his lips and glaring. Though his face wrinkled up, an ageless ferocity burned in his eyes.

The reporter, of course, ignored the warning completely. It was literally his business to pry where he was the least wanted. “So I take it, then, that you're not a fan of this new theory regarding fuzzies?”

Autumn reflexively snorted, then bared his teeth. “Bloody little git, thinking that she can stand up there and change something that hasn't changed in thousands of years.”

Flash scribbled on his pad. “Ah. So this hasn't changed your opinion about your son any?”

The old pony's eyes widened. For a moment his skin went flat, but soon the wrinkles returned with his scowl. “I have no son.”

“It's been sixteen years. Don't you think that in light of recent events you should at least rethink—”

“I have no son!” Autumn stomped, pounding his porch and shaking the earth.

Flash Print clenched his teeth and scribbled away. “So what is it about Twilight's message that you don't agree with? Is it because you don't miss him at all, or like hating him more than you loved him, or—”

“Hey!” Stepping up, the gruff, rugged pegasus pressed his face against Flash's. “Here's an idea. How about you—” he tapped a brown hoof on the blue pony's chest “—GET OFF MY LAWN!”

The bellowing was enough to knock Flash Print's hat off. He stepped back, folded up his notebook and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. Turning away, he reached down to retrieve his hat, dust it off, and shook his head as he walked away. “I guess this goes to show: the more things try to change, the more they stay the same.” It wasn't long before he was out of sight, checking a map and trotting off to his next destination.

The day was fine and fresh, crisp with a clear, blue sky. The summer sun had yet to bake the earth, and the morning chill was pleasant in the temperate climate. Autumn sighed and stared at the sky. Birds chirped, flying overhead to nest in the nearby trees.

The bushes rustled again, and the one with the berries asked, “Is that nosy reporter gone?”

“Yes. You can come out now.”

The shrubbery rustled, and the berries parted from the leaves as a tall figure stood, earthy and pale. Nay, not tall, simply thin and gaunt, hardly a waif to be bowed in the wind. This was a pony, once, but had branches sprouting from its skull like a set of overgrown antlers. It was these that held the berries, and tiny spade-shaped leaves of its own. Legs were knotted, more bone than sinew, and little flesh. Its back was mottled, with lumps of bark and splotches of white. The figure had wings, at one point, but the feathers were gone with brown, dried stems poking out along its length. There were a few green fronds, as some type of broad leaf attempted to fill in the many gaps.

“You're one ugly fuggle.” Autumn Leaf grunted, locking his eyes on the beast. “How have you been doing all these years?”

“Awful. Yourself?” The creature responded. Its voice was as thin and raspy as its frame.

“Could be better.” The two stared, eye-to-eye. Neither blinked.

In the bright sun, the leaves seemed vibrant, the only part of the beast that looked healthy and well. “Is mom around?” it asked.

Autumn shook his head, deeply and full of regret. “She blamed me for this, you know. Said it was because my name had leaf in it. It was too much. We broke apart. About a year after you... left, she hooked up with some sleazy git the south side of Manehatten. Haven't seen 'er since.”

“I'm sorry.”

“So am I.” The elder pony licked his hoof and brushed his rusty mane, smoothing out the frayed ends. “I spent so much time wishing you'd never been born that I lost sight of the fact that I still loved you, deep inside. I wish this Twilight had come along sixteen years ago, then I would have stood up for you, and she might have respected me, and we could still be together.”

“It didn't sound like you were sticking up for me just now.”

Autumn Leaf shook his head. “No point now. In all honesty, I probably wouldn't have done it back then, either. I ain't a brave pony.”

“And I'm no pony at all,” the figure spat bitterly.

“Wallow Wind...” The elder bit his tongue. He eyed the barely-living half-plant, who was once a bright-eyed, happy colt. “What happened to you all these years?”

Wallow sighed and looked up at the sun, the one thing which had never forsaken him. “I took it poorly, as you can imagine. I hated it. I hated it all. I kept cutting the branches off, but they grew back, they always did. I picked at the bark, though it hurt like the dickens.” The white patches were not spots of faded color, but scars. He was covered in them. “And as for the wings, well...”

“I can't help but notice that it looks like a different type of plant.”

“I tried to escape from it all, and binged on enchanted comic books.” He paused and clenched his teeth. “Stupid things kept casting me as the villain, even though they're not supposed to do that,” he muttered under his breath. “The magic was not good for me. When I molted and started growing fronds, well, I flipped out. That's why they're all dead.” He shook his head, rustling the branches. “It was a huge mistake. The leaves help me live. I nearly pruned myself to death.”

“Ouch.” Autumn Leaf coughed and raised a hoof, pointing at one of the dangling red berries. “Have you ever...?”

“They're bitter and salty and don't grow when planted.”

“Ah.”

An awkward silence settled in. A squirrel darted in the background, clambering up an oak. The wadded up newspaper had come to rest against a row of daffodils, bright and white. Autumn walked over, uncrumpled it, and dusted it off. “This doesn't mean I like it. Those folks just write opinions and try to cram it down everypony's throats, pretending it's news. When I look at you, I still see the same beast I kicked out sixteen years ago.”

“Of course you do.” Wallow sighed.

“But I'm willing to give this hope a chance. Why don't you come inside and we can have ice cream... son.”

The thin figure perked up, red eyes wide and shining. He eagerly followed his father to the door, only to clack his branches against the frame and nearly topple over as the top-heavy weight threw off his delicate balance. “Ow,” he moaned, rubbing his temple.

“Or, you could stay out there and I'll bring you a bowl.”

“It's fine. I need more sun, anyway,” Wallow said through clenched teeth. He hung his head, fully feeling the burden of his curse upon his shoulders. Sap leaked from his eyes and ran down his hallow cheeks. “Of all the things I could have been, it just had to be a tree.”

The Fuzzy End

Freaky Fuzzy Fluttershy

Many things exist in the world that we don't understand. Thank goodness for first impressions, assumptions and predispositions, because otherwise we might actually have to learn something.

Knock. Knock.

Fluttershy carefully adjusted her crimson and white sweat band. With help from her long, flowing pink mane, her ears were completely buried, hidden from sight. She stretched her eyes wide, peering at herself in a mirror. Her lime green irises were wide and round. They failed to adjust to the light, but more importantly her pupils were round too, just as they should be. Her fur was a soft yellow hue, uniform and unbroken, also normal. Several discarded empty cans of yellow body paint and makeup littered the floor by her vanity. A faint chalky scent clung to her, ground into her hide. She frowned.

The door rapper knocked again.

“Coming,” she said, so softly that she practically squeaked. She reached for a cloak on her nightstand, but hesitated, examined herself, and let it be. Slurking out of her bedroom, she stopped to lock that door. Taking a deep breath, she hesitated long enough for a stranger to get disinterested and leave. Well, that wasn't her intention, but she did take a long time to build up the nerve to approach the door. Peering through her peephole, she relaxed at the sight of a lavender unicorn. She checked herself one last time before removing the latch.

Twilight nearly jumped when the door opened. She'd been turning away, and the creaking caught her off guard. “Oh! Hi, Fluttershy. You were so quiet that I didn't think you were home.”

“Well...” She inched back, tucking down her head. “Actually, Twilight, I'm having second thoughts. Maybe I should just stay home.”

“What!? You can't do that! Pinkie Pie worked so hard for this! It marks my one year anniversary in Ponyville and the return of Princess Luna and the Summer Sun Celebration!” Glancing up at the bright sky, Twilight muttered under her breath, “Well, that last part's already over.” She coughed, clearing her throat. “But everypony's going to be there for the rest, and they're all expecting you to come too.”

“Um. Well—” Fluttershy looked to the side and daintily swiped a forehoof on her carpet. “I can't go because, I, um, have to take care of a sick bunny.” She grinned wide, then abruptly shut her mouth, looking embarrassed.

Twilight raised an eyebrow and peered past the peculiar pegasus into the depths of the cottage. Several critters scurried, slithered, flapped and hopped about. She gasped. “What is that thing?”

“That, um...” Stepping aside, Fluttershy twisted her head, trying to follow Twilight's frantic pointing. There were some rabbits gathered around a bowl of water, one of whom had a miniature rack of antlers and a tail like a deer. “You mean Jackie?”

“Yes! That! Is that some kind of freaky, fuzzy, rabbit?”

“Well... It's rare, but it does happen.” Fluttershy frowned deeply. “Rarely.”

“Well you should get rid of it! How can the others even stand to be near that thing? Just look at those evil beady eyes!” The screaming unicorn startled the critters and they hopped off, running into another room.

“Twilight, I can't just—”

“Don't be silly. Of course you can.” Groaning, Twilight rubbed her forehead. “And I appreciate your wanting to stay and take care of it, but if that's what's wrong with your rabbit, then there's nothing you can do. Nopony has ever found a cure.” She sighed. “Not for ponies, and certainly not for animals, if it's even the same thing, which it looks like. At least it doesn't spread, so it can wait until after the festival.”

“The festival, right.” Fluttershy caught herself rubbing her leg. She did a little jump, then glanced at it. It still didn't look any different from a normal pony leg. She let out a sigh of relief. “I guess I can come for a little while.”

“That's the spirit! Now hurry, we don't want to miss out on the ultimate battle of ultimate harmony reenactment. The schoolfoals worked very hard on their skit.”

Twilight marched off, head held high and grinning. Fluttershy lumbered behind, taking soft steps and continuously glancing around. Her long, pink tail dragged on the ground. The walk to town was a dreary march indeed.

So many ponies were packed into the town square that their collective body heat caused the air to shimmer. A stage had been set up, with red, velvet curtains drawn. On the sides, street vendors hawked their wares. The sticky sweet odor of fresh hayroes and strawcicles left many noses tantalized. Being two of the last ponies to enter meant that all of the good spots had been taken, but it also meant that they were close to the exits. Twilight bought herself a powdered sugar spiral oatcake, while Fluttershy found herself a shadow to lurk in beneath an awning.

The festivities began almost immediately, with the mayor taking the stage and introducing the actors. The little kids seemed to enjoy themselves, though their high-pitched, nasal voices made them difficult to understand. One moment that stood out was that the costume for Nightmare Moon featured fuzz-tipped ears, leathery wings, and large fangs. That wasn't much of an exaggeration, but it did make her look like a vampire bat hybrid fuzzy. When harmony prevailed, she shed those features, becoming a normal pony again to be loved and cherished by all.

The school play wasn't a huge hit, but there were plenty of enthusiastic parents in the crowd whose cheering and stomping made up for any lack of appreciation otherwise. Everypony was really waiting for the sunset performance by Sapphire Shores, and after that was the midnight bash at Sugarcube Corner.

Before the main event could begin, Mayor Mare took the stage. She cleared her throat, amplified over the loudspeakers, and waited for the crowd to settle down. “Ahem. I would like to thank everypony for coming to the annual Festival of the Sun and Moon. For the first time ever, we're extending the normal Summer Sun Celebration into a full day event. For today, we not only celebrate our beloved ruler Princess Celestia, but also the return of her sister, Princess Luna, and the first night of peaceful rest under the new, mareless moon. It all began over a thousand years ago when...”

She talked and talked like she enjoyed hearing the sound of her own voice. Ponies, for the most part, remained attentive, though many took the opportunity to freshen up and refill their drinks. Fluttershy seemed to get comfortable under the awning, though she had a habit of fidgeting and looking at her shoulder and legs. With the sun waning, the shadows grew longer and deeper though the afternoon's heat had yet to relent. The crowd was developing a musky, sweaty scent.

Mayor Mare invited Twilight to the stage, who took the opportunity to point out her friends in the crowd. Fluttershy nearly bolted when the crowd's collective mass of eyeballs turned to look at her, though Pinkie quickly took their attention with a confetti cannon. Twilight said other stuff too, talking nearly as much as the mayor, but Fluttershy remained focused on the others, shying away from those who looked in her direction.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Rarity asked, whispering once she got close.

Fluttershy nearly jumped, but relaxed when she saw her pale white friend. “I, um, n-no. I just don't like crowds. That's all. Nothing to worry about. Nope.”

“Hmm. If you say so.” Rarity hesitated, sniffing the air and peering closer. “Your eyes. They're green.”

“Huh? They've always been green.”

“I mean lime green, not the usual cyan, blue-green.”

“Oh. That.” The demure pegasus frowned. “They, um, they get that way when I wear contacts.” Fluttershy's voice trailed off, and she looked away as if she were trying to bury her head in her mane.

“Why are you wearing contacts?” Rarity asked. She peered and raised an eyebrow. This conversation was getting awkward fast.

“Um... b-because...” Fluttersy muttered, hardly audible. She shrank down as if attempting to meld into the background.

Rarity shrugged and excused herself to get a glass of water. As she walked off, she stopped and glanced back a few times before vanishing into the crowd. Twilight was making her exit, and the mass of ponies hooted and hollered when the spectacular splash sensation Sapphire Shores stole the stage. Lights flashed and strobes cut through the air. She snagged the microphone like an addict, and her breathing poured over the loudspeakers. Ponies instantly settled down. A hush rolled in the air. A grin laced with blue glitter sparkled in the last few rays of the sun's light.

When the music started, Fluttershy lost herself, humming and swaying along with the beat. All thoughts of scrutiny, other ponies, and prying friends took a back seat to the melody. This was the life. All worries were washed away in the torrent of music flooding the air. She let herself rise and twirled to the beat, swaying her hips and hopping along. Other ponies were also swaying and cheering. Unicorns lit their horns at the tips to form a sea of glittering stars.

A sudden ripping brought her back to reality. Her fake pink pony tail had gotten snagged on a bush, and was torn off by her dancing. She squeaked, and dove for it, trying desperately to pull it free and reattach the false appendage before anypony noticed. Someone gasped, and her heart sank like a rock.

Her real tail was long and fuzzy, striped with triangular black wedges over top of her butter yellow hue. It was much like a tiger's, and whipped about. She quickly pulled it down and tucked it between her hind legs, but the damage had been done. Ponies had seen. They whispered, poking their neighbors, pointing and staring. All of them were disgusted. Parents shielded their children's eyes.

With the music going on, only the ones closest to her were reacting. She finally ripped her fake tail free. Frantic, she glanced around, looking for a place to hide.

“Oh my gosh! What is that!?” Pinkie Pie zipped over and grabbed Fluttershy's tail, pulling it out and holding it under a street lamp.

“P-Pinkie,” the buttercup pegasus mumbled, “p-please, let go.” She tugged, trying to free herself, while also shrinking down and whimpering.

“It's so soft and silky.” Pinkie's eyes shimmered. She was so completely mesmerized by the furry appendage that she ignored the tugging. Then, in a heartbreaking instant, she whipped out megaphone, held the black and yellow striped tail high in the air, and yelled, “EVERYPONY LOOK! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS! FLUTTERSHY HAS A CUTE KITTY TAIL!”

“A Fuzzy!” The shout sliced through the air. The music screeched to a halt. Voices shouted and tomatoes started to fly.

“Get her!”

“Freak! Get out of our town!”

The shouts rose to a roar, and hooves stomped, scraping the dirt as ponies huffed, glared, and scowled. Pinkie was still stroking the fur, seemingly oblivious to everything else.

Fluttershy finally found her strength and tore free, galloping away with wild abandon. Somepony tried to stop her, but got knocked over as she plowed straight through them. Her headband ripped, and her ears popped out. They too were striped, and also shorter, wider, and a lot fuzzier than normal pony ears.

A high-pitched screech suddenly brought the crowd to its knees. Sapphire Shores pulled her mic away from a loudspeaker, mercifully ending the earsplitting feedback. “Folks, it's always a tragedy when somepony turns out to be a fuzzy. You think you know someone, and they turn out to be a horrible freak. This reminds me of an old song I wrote.” She took a deep breath and waited for the music to start. It was a haunting melody, full of high notes from a flute while drums marched to a steady beat and a piano roiled the low chords. Her own voice was watery, quavering, as she sung about an empty beach and long, lonely nights.

The pervasive sadness subdued the crowd allowing Fluttershy to escape unscathed.

Pinkie stood there frozen, eye twitching. She seemed broken, as if unable to comprehend what had just transpired.

Rarity sat there sputtering. “I-I should have realized it sooner. If I'd known, if she'd told me, I could have done something.”

A blue streak overhead marked the departure of Rainbow Dash. Applejack held her hat and shook her head.

Twilight was also shaken. “Fluttershy is a fuzzy? She's a-a fuzzy!? I—I... I feel so betrayed.”

The show went on in the darkness.

Taking a Stand

Townsponies whispered and chattered amongst themselves as they slowly poured into the square. Spike hadn't told anypony what this was about, but they all knew. Well, they knew enough to place bets. Speculation put a hundred to one odds in favor of Fluttershy being banished, two to one odds in favor of her being locked up, even odds on her being locked up at the place she's being banished to, one in fifty odds of her being petrified or otherwise magically eradicated, and one in a million odds of her being cured somehow. Mass brainwashing was about one in eggplant, because how would you know if you were being mass brainwashed?

Twilight gathered with her friends behind stage as the crowd filled in. The curtains were drawn, shielding them from view. While they were all there, they didn't look particularly happy about it. Fluttershy's knees wobbled and she had a brown paper bag pulled over her head. Pinkie was busy drawing a smiley face on it, while the others kept their distance. Rainbow Dash hovered extra-high, Applejack kept her hat pulled low, shrouding her face in shadow, and Rarity was sweating, eyes darting about, inching to the very edge of the stage.

“Do we really need—” Applejack shrugged her shoulders in the direction of the terrified tiger-pony. “—y'know who here?”

“Yes. Absolutely. She's essential for this. I can't do it without her.” Twilight flipped through her note cards, neatly stacking them on a podium in the middle of the stage. She checked a wire leading to the microphone. That was on the other side of the curtain, being set up by Spike. A large coil offered plenty of slack in case she needed to swing it around.

A certain white unicorn hemmed and hawed, looking at the exit ramp off the stage. “W-well, I do believe that I left my sewing machine on, so if you'll excuse me, I should probably—”

“Rarity! I need you too. I need all of you. You're my friends and that's the most important thing in the world right now.” Twilight stood on her soap box, then stepped down and pushed it closer to the podium.

Rainbow Dash swooped low and asked, “Uh, I don't mean to pry, but what exactly are you planning to do here?”

“Ponies have been exiling fuzzies for generations, as long as anyone can remember, breaking apart friends and families. Don't you think it's about time that someone stood up and put a stop to it?”

They gasped, and Pinkie did too just for the fun of it. Fluttershy stopped trembling, going still.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Rainbow asked, giving Fluttershy a long stare.

“By reasoning with them.” Twilight paced back and forth. She squinted and stared up at the sun. It seemed particularly lazy today, taking its sweet, sweet time to reach its noon apex. “How else?”

Rarity winced. “Don't you think this hasn't been done before? Ponies just don't listen, and anyone who tries gets banished along with them. You can't expect to change things with a lecture.”

Twilight put her hoof down. “Hey! I'll have you know that I defeated Nightmare Moon with a lecture.”

“Your lectures shoot magical rainbows now?” Pinkie asked.

“Rarity's right.” Applejack grunted. “This is foolhardy. Y'all can't reason with an angry mob.”

While the others argued, Fluttershy crouched low to the ground and whimpered. “I-I'm okay with being banished.”

“Fluttershy, we can't give up before we've even started.” Twilight clenched her teeth and groaned in frustration. “And take that thing off.” She snatched away the paper bag, crumpling it up and tossing it aside. Fluttershy promptly buried her head under her hooves. “Look, I have a plan. I think prior attempts just didn't try hard enough. You all need to hear what I have to say too.” She sighed. “I'm sorry for springing this on you so suddenly but if we want to save Fluttershy we'll have to act fast.”

“Save her?” Applejack raised an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head.

Scratching her head, Rainbow Dash glanced between Twilight and Fluttershy. She flew back to her spot, hovering as far from the tiger pony as she could reasonably get.

“Yes and—” A clock rang, chiming twelve times as it struck noon. Twilight gulped. “Wish me luck.” She dashed back to the podium.

Spike tapped on the mic to get the crowd's attention. He thanked them all for coming, and stated that Twilight had an important announcement to make. He then walked off and pulled open the curtain, revealing the loosely assembled group scattered on stage.

Twilight stood on her soap box to tower over the podium, giving a clear view of the hundreds of faces staring up at her. The crowd's collective sea of eyes bored into her mind, and her hackles started to rise. Averting her gaze, she grabbed the note cards with her magic and rapped them on the wood, perfectly aligning the edges. The others also got in position behind her, which mostly meant staying as far away from Fluttershy as possible. The shuddering, black-striped yellow and pink lump was isolated, as Pinkie Pie stood off in her own little world, grinning as loudly as the sun.

Twilight's heart raced and she took a deep breath. The hundreds of glossy eyes still stared at her, glistening in the bright sunlight. Clacks of claws on wood rang out as Spike ran over to pass the mic off. She grabbed it with her magic and gave a slight nod. Briefly returning the motion, he nodded then scampered off the stage. The townsponies were still watching her—mostly her. She gulped as eyes widened and brows furrowed.

Somepony pointed at Fluttershy, and a ripple seemed to pass over the crowd. Frowns grew, ears folded back, and ponies covered the eyes of their foals. The hostility made Twilight sweat, but they remained patient, waiting for her to speak.

She didn't look at them, instead reading directly from her notes. “Hello, and good afternoon, everypony,” she said, flipping to the next one. “We are here to discuss an important matter.” Flip. “As you all know, Fluttershy has—” Flip. “—most unfortunately turned into a fuzzy,” Flip. “but in the grand scheme of things,” Flip. “this may turn out to be—” Flip. “—a blessing in disguise.”

That caused a ruckus. She winced as ponies started yelling over each other. There were too many of them yelling at once to see who was talking, but it made her heart sink to know that she recognized many of the voices.

“Blessing!? Are you crazy!?” Was that Sparkler? Or some other light red unicorn?

“She's an abomination!” No idea.

“Get rid of her!” That sounded like Davenport, the sofa and quills salespony.

This was off to a horrible start. She needed ponies to listen, not boo her off the stage before she even had a chance to say anything! The din grew as loud shouts poured around her.

Fluttershy folded herself even lower on the ground, doing her best to pretend that she was a doormat.

Wincing, Twilight rubbed her forehead, wiping away cold sweat. This wasn't over yet. Gritting her teeth, she recalled how Sapphire Shores controlled the crowd at the concert and eyed the loudspeakers set up on poles next to the stage. She hated to play such a strong tactic right at the start, but she didn't have much choice. Covering her ears, she levitated the microphone, smacking it right into one. A sharp squeal of earsplitting feedback roared far louder than any complaint, cowing the field complaints with a roar of electrical fury. Ponies winced, grabbing their heads and groaning.

Yanking her mic back down, she placed it back on the stand. There was little noise aside from a lingering ringing in her ears. Dropping her notes, she leaned into the mic. “Sorry about that. You're right. This is an awful situation. But in the face of adversity, we can't just slink away and run off. If we did that, we never would have defeated Nightmare Moon. The town would still be choked in ash from a dragon. A cranky Ursa Minor would have flattened the village. We need to tackle our problems and face them head on.”

“You're facing the wrong way! The problem is behind you!” Somepony shouted. There were murmurs of agreement and nodding heads.

“What? No it's not! I am facing the problem!” Twilight stomped her hoof and snorted. The soap box rattled under her hoof. She folded her ears back and glared at the audience. This defiant gesture changed the atmosphere, reviving the aura of malice. The crowd grew hostile again, booing and hissing.

Fluttershy peeked out. She stopped shuddering, staring up at Twilight under the bright noon sky. Beads of sweat rolled down the unicorn's lavender fur. It was Twilight who was trembling now. The others on stage glanced among themselves, inching back towards the exits, except for Pinkie Pie, who sat there, grinning as loud as the sun.

Swinging the mic back towards the loudspeaker in a threatening manner, Twilight clenched her jaw. Many ponies winced and reflexively covered their ears. This brought a lull to the chaos.

She snapped the mic back to her face. “Listen to me! We've been going about this all wrong! Tell me what's more important: our friendships, our loved ones, or getting rid of fuzzies?”

“Getting rid of fuzzies!”

“She's dangerous!”

“She's degrading society! We're going back to the stone age here, folks. The stone age!”

“Who said that!?” Twilight screamed, trying to maintain control of a rapidly crumbling situation. “Who said that!?” Her screech was so loud that some ponies winced. Those who'd chosen to stand in the front of the crowd were deeply regretting it with ringing ears.

“You!” With a shaky hoof, Twilight pointed to the center of the audience. “Lyra Heartstrings!”

“M-me?” A mint pony glanced around, in the hopes that the angry unicorn might be pointing at some other pony named Lyra Heartstrings who happened to look just like her and be standing right next to her. No such luck. The crowd inched back, leaving her in a tiny, isolated bubble.

“Do you remember in sixth grade, you went through a phase where you idolized Mistmane? You even went so far as to carve little heart-shaped holes in your horseshoes, so that you too could spread a little love and joy wherever you walked.”

Twilight picked up her mic and walked out past the podium to the edge of the stage. She faced the crowd with a stern gaze. “Well, I went to Fluttershy's cottage and I saw the damage that had been done. There, in the middle of her tulip garden, amongst all of the hoofprints, were crimson petaled tulips trampled with heart-shaped imprints. Is this how you live up to your hero? Is this how you choose to define yourself? By stomping innocent flowers into the ground?”

Lyra hung her head. Her golden eyes watered.

“I thought not.” Shaking her head, Twilight stepped back to the podium. “Please. All I ask is that you listen long enough to let me explain myself,” she pleaded. Some ponies whispered, but the crowd seemed subdued, for now.

Behind her, her friends stepped back from the brink, gathering closer to the lavender unicorn. Fluttershy and Pinkie remained off by themselves. Rarity was still half a hoof from the nearest exit.

A trickle of down her face made Twilight's cheek tic. She wiped it, getting sweat on her hoof. When she reached for her notes, they slipped. Some flew, and the whole pile crumpled, scattering on the stage. She gulped, holding a single one. She stared at it. “Uh. The FFSBL community—”

“The what?” Rainbow Dash asked. Twilight glanced over her shoulder.

“Sorry. It's an acronym for Fuzzies, Fuggles, Sympathizers, and Beast Lovers.”

“They have a community now?” Somepony down below asked. Was that Carrot Top? Twilight couldn't spot the pale orange earth pony. In the back of the crowd faces seemed to blend together.

“What the hay do you think this is? Swamp Fugglytown of the Banished Lands?” Another yelled. Twilight's eyes darted around, but she couldn't spot that one either. She was going to get a headache if this kept up.

“Not a community so much as a shared problem.” Twilight shut her eyes and pulled the mic close. It scratched as the hairs of her chin brushed the surface. She had to move it back. “That acronym would be more appropriate with an 'I' at the end, as it fully encompasses the spectrum of all ponies, including you all down there.”

“What!? We're not some sort of perverted fuzzballs! You can't lump us with them!” a pony shouted. Twilight peered at the offender. This one stood up when she yelled: a blue earth pony with a silver mane. Other ponies murmured agreement, and the crowd started to grow raucous.

“Exactly!” Twilight yelled. They hushed in confusion. “You, me, and all of us normal ponies want nothing to do with fuzzies and anything to do with them. We shun them, cast them out, and discard them like broken toys. That's how society works. How it's been for thousands of years. I understand. It's how I felt as well. But it's a mistake. It doesn't have to be this way.”

Somepony started to boo, a richly-dressed tan stallion with a wide, black top hat and dark sunglasses. His clothing left him suspiciously covered, hiding his most defining features. Twilight was taken aback. Her mind backtracked to the conversation with Rarity. Was that another fuzzy in disguise? Why would he heckle her? But even Fluttershy hated fuzzies. She said so herself. They might be their own worst enemies.

The crowd's dissent was rising. She had to act. It seemed like each and every word she spoke was heating a pot teetering on the brink of its boiling point. One bad moment and everything she was working for would disintegrate, smothered as a steaming rage roiled out of control. “Please calm down! Hear me out. I know it's not what you want to hear, but all I'm giving you is an option, a choice to choose a different path. We can't keep moving forward if we're forever stuck in the same old rut. Fording a new way is hard, but worth it in the end.”

Ponies kept their glares, but with thin eyes, deep frowns, and chins held high she was in for a rough time. The crowd had already made its choice, and was merely being polite until it ripped her hopes and dreams apart.

She gulped. “I-I just want to say thank you. Thank you for giving me this chance. You're all intelligent individuals who are capable of making your own informed decisions.”

“Just get on with it already!”

Closing her eyes, she had to take a moment to calm her nerves and collect her thoughts. It did little good, as she felt like she was beating her head against a brick wall, but she needed to keep trying. “The one thing most important to a fuzzy is intolerance. That's what the 'I' stands for. From the very moment they change, it dominates their life. Friendships are severed, loved ones cast them aside, blinded by a deep-seated hatred for their kind. They look in a mirror, and the hatred boils in their own hearts as well. It's a huge tragedy, and it can happen to anypony.”

Shaking her head, she bit her lip and stared at the loose pile of notes on the floor. The crowd, for once, was staying silent. A brush of wind tickled her mane, and she risked a glance back. Rainbow Dash had moved closer, and Applejack was right behind her. With more confidence, she went on. “But its not their fault. Its not the fault of the friends or loved ones either. It's the fact that ponies are hard-wired to hate. We see a fuzzy, and we know we must reject it, lest some undefined unspeakable thing occur. But it won't. They're no more dangerous than any other pony. The thing that will happen if we refuse to reject them is love!”

Ponies gasped. She shocked them into losing their composure, and jaws dropped.

“I can envision a world without fear, one where fuzzies can live openly amongst us, playing with their friends, hugging their parents, siblings, and kin. No more will they be torn from us at a bright young age. No more will friends and families be ripped asunder by this curse. They are not monsters, but siblings, friends, people's cherished children. Do you not miss those who were cast out? Do you not wish you could have them back? You can! All you have to do is look into your heart, to feel the hatred that lurks within, and acknowledge that it is the real problem. The hate and the hate alone is what keeps you apart.

“Take that first step. Close your eyes. Picture them in your mind. Know that they're still out there, alone and miserable. Look beyond your hatred and know that you still love them. Know that they love you too. Know that you can be the stronger pony who braves that path less traveled. Friendship is everything and true friendship conquers all!”

Twilight put everything into her speech. Her heartfelt plea for compassion left her drained, small, vulnerable. She was desperate for a connection, to make a difference. Many eyes were wide, some misty, and others narrowed with teeth bared.

The crowd was divided. Many had seen that spark in her eyes and let themselves wonder. Was it true? Had they been the real problem all along? Was all this pain and suffering unnecessary? They were quiet, contemplative.

But for those who had not, their anger and fury had been stoked to a raging inferno. They saw not a vision of hope for a better world, but a hostile takeover by a fuzz lover. The hatred was ingrown, and it seemed like nothing could dislodge it. They were veritable fountains of fury, and this insult could not stand.

The bubble of silent contemplation was shattered by shouts of anger.

“Are you nuts!? These things are dangerous!”

“Fuzzies are the scum of the earth!”

“They deserve to be treated like trash because they are trash!”

Twilight seemed to deflate. The cries of anger were growing and those who'd listened to her seemed embarrassed or hung their heads. “B-but, I thought... Please! Just think for a minute. It doesn't have to be this way.”

“Don't listen to her!”

“Rotten sympathizer!”

“You're the real monster!”

Boos and hisses erupted as the crowd grew unruly. It was over. She'd lost control. Her heart sank with each red face and shaking hoof. She'd failed to make a difference. Everything was in shambles. They were all going to be driven from town, and it was all her fault. Thousands of years of hatred could not be erased by a speech. Why did she even try? Desperately, she wracked her mind for a spell to get her friends to safety before things got any worse.

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves!” Fluttershy's voice cut through the din. She'd taken center stage and ponies simply froze in her glare.

Her mixed nature was on full display, with wings spread wide and a striped tail flicking in the air. Her feline eyes were wide and hypnotic, stunning them with a ferocious stare. For all their lives, these ponies had been driving fuzzies away. They were nothings. Afterthoughts. But this was no afterthought reprimanding them.

“I felt like I'd lost everything—my life, my passion, my friends. I had no hope, but she's turned that around. Do you have any idea of how much that means to me? How much it should mean to you? Thanks to her I have a purpose again. Thanks to her, I can help out the animals without being afraid of myself. Thanks to her, I have friends. Look at them! And there she is, out of the kindness of her heart, spreading a message of hope and love and for that you call her a monster?”

Rainbow Dash swooped down and hovered by Fluttershy's shoulder. “The only monsters I've seen are the ones who smash windows and trample flowers. Look, this has not been easy for me, either. When I refused to give up on her and stayed by her side I felt like a horrible pony, but thanks to Twilight, I now know that was the right thing to do all along.”

“Rainbow Dash is right.” Applejack stepped up to join them. “Giving up honestly felt like the right thing to do, but now—” she shook her head “—I'd chose hope and friendship over hatred any day of the week.”

“If we have to give up what makes us comfortable to stay with those we love and cherish then so be it.” Rarity strode up, finally abandoning the edge of the stage to stand with her friends facing the crowd. “I know all too well what hatred can do and abandoning it is the best gift that anypony could give to the world.”

Still grinning, Pinkie Pie hopped up. “Smile, and the whole world smiles with you.”

Twilight sniffled. She was already smiling, but the audience was still a sea of doubt. Some eyes were downcast, heads low. Most were wide and mesmerized, while a few had stony grimaces, carved from the horrors of their own hearts. She felt a pang looking into the fires smoldering in those eyes, even as ponies around them seemed open to change. Fluttershy's stare was fading, and whispers started creeping in the air.

It felt like they were on the brink, teetering on the cusp, but she had nothing left to offer. The time for words was over. They needed something else. Something more. A sign.

Something was missing. Something important.

Back on the stage, her friends were close together, but Fluttershy was isolated. Nopony was touching her, even as they brushed each other. That tiny straw was too much. Something broke in her heart. A terrible blockage fell apart, and the realization that this fuzzy was her friend overpowered her. Dashing over the stage, she grabbed Fluttershy, black stripes and all, pulling her close for a hug.

The crowd gasped.

Fluttershy was startled, but she hugged back, and soon the others piled together for a group hug. Fuzz, fur, feathers and grins balled up in one great show of unity. Regardless of what others may think, Twilight and her friends would never be divided. Not by this—not by anything else.

They seemed to glow, lit by a sunbeam as if the very sun itself had blessed them with its approval. Off in the corner, a little dragon clapped his hands and cheered. Others joined in, slowly at first, but it spread like wildfire raising into a roar. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment for history.

It wasn't a universal show of support, though. While many were enthusiastic, most were reluctant, some did not clap or cheer at all, and a few stomped off. It was entirely possible in that trying to heal one divide, Twilight had torn asunder a new one. Only time would tell.

When the cheers died down, faster than they'd started, Spike yanked the chains to close the curtains. Beyond the thin, velvety veil, ponies were talking, and the crowd started to disperse. He ran over, a grin on his green, scaly face. “Congratulations, you did it.”

“Thanks, Spike.” Twilight let out a contented sigh as their hug broke up. “It was a start, but I don't think we reached everypony. What matters most is that we've healed our own divisions, and whatever comes next, we'll face it together.”

“Face it together,” he echoed, writing on the back of a freshly printed image. A small camera hung around his neck. He took a deep breath and roasted the print with a bout of green flame. The ashes sparkled and wafted off. “I know you'll want to do a full report later, but for now, Celestia should get the picture.” He winked.

Twilight chuckled. “That she will.”