“Oh gosh…” A pale-mauve muzzle emerged, only to zip back below. “Oh please, oh please… it can’t be here.”

Milkweed pressed her back into the rock until she could bend no more. Her heart thumped wildly in its cage, the lithe hoof held against it offering little in the way of recourse.

“Goddesses please, don’t let it be here…”

Suddenly, it made a sound; it was a great dragging shuffle of earth. It was much like the sound of a plow tilling a field, but that once comforting aura of home now only brought a harsh bleakness to Milkweed’s mind. The little pony couldn’t help but suck in a vast plume of air, and with it came an unwanted passenger; a fatal squeak slipped free from her throat. The notching sound of the earth stopped. A breath crossed Milkweed's lips, but it was far from one meant to provide ease.

The little earth-pony leapt from her cover with a scream. The blood-curdling cry rattled to the bone. But there was nopony around to hear her. Yet, there was at least one being around, and it was more than willing to help her stop.

Milkweed’s neglected black mane swept behind her as she barreled down the path she’d carved on the way up. What once had been her access point to the small plateau near the top of the mountain, the path now became a means of escape. It would not last for long, and she had so little time to think. The monster had wings that cut through the air with unnatural finesse; Milkweed knew this due to two things: a massive figure had recently swept down to her pasture in an attempt to take a ‘sample’ of her friends; and she had seen part of one of its outstretched wings when she had arrived at the plateau.

Frantic, but full of adrenaline, Milkweed pulled up the location of a nearby cave from her recent memories. It was a terribly dark crevasse—a place where more monsters might lay—but she was far more willing to hide with the terrors in the dark than be caught in the daylight with the beast above. At the very least, the cave solved one of her problems: she could hide from the aerial view the beast domineered.

As she turned into a wooded part of the mountain, the thumping and scratching of the monster’s claws behind her gave way to great blasts of air. A looming shadow crossed over Milkweed, and she screamed once more. The beast roared in reply, and swooped downward through the exposed ravine in the foliage.

Tripping over a root in her renewed state of panic, Milkweed grit her teeth and braced as she went tumbling. A crack wound through the air behind her, and a moaning roar sounded off among the clattering of branches and leaves. Milkweed didn’t dare to bear witness to the creature’s misfortune; swiftly shaking herself, she reconquered her bearings, and sped off in the direction of the cave.

Hope filled Milkweed’s mind as her haven came into sight. She slipped within the crevasse mere seconds before she heard the beast draw near again. The mouth of the cave was small, far smaller than what she had seen of the beast’s stature. There was safety to be had there.

Trotting precisely around the plethora of littered stones and debris, Milkweed found a shady alcove and jammed herself into place. Compressed against the cool stone wall, Milkweed did her best to still her firing lungs. Her ears twitched as she honed her hearing as well as she could; most of the cave’s echoes faded, but the faint drip of water remained close by. The ambiance was peaceful, and the abrupt—though pleasant thought, helped Milkweed somewhat calm herself.

Any sense of calm fell far from her hooves as the monster forced its way into the cave.

The grating sound of claws and scales against stone forced tears from Milkweed’s eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the tears away with as much strength as she could muster. A hiccup escaped her as the ground shook from a particularly heavy impact. “S-somepony p-please… help me…”

One-two.

She counted her prayers.

One, two.

Milkweed folded her ears against the sides of her head.

One… Two.

Milkweed pushed herself into the wall.

One. Two.

Milkweed squeezed her eyes tighter and embraced the dark.

One.

Hot, acrid, smoky breath swept over Milkweed. She let out a whimpering whine, and the beast beside her growled. She held her head down as far as she could to avoid the gaze held upon her, and prayed that what came next would be painless.

The air gave little more than a whisper as the beast moved away from her.

Grinding against stone the whole way out, the monster let loose one final growl before the sound of earth-quaking wings sifted away into the woods.

Milkweed's tears fell freely, released from the harsh grip that had held them back. The asynchronous pitter-patter of tears clashed against the vibrant thrum of the stalactite’s pool of water; the body-wracking sobs from the collapsed pony were more than enough to destroy the decrepit cave’s symphony.

It was a long time before Milkweed dropped from the cavity of the cavern wall. Shaking as she stood, Milkweed crawled up to the lip of the cave’s entrance and peered out. The way was clear, and visible above the trees, the massive brown beast traced back along the path of their chase.

Sniffling, Milkweed wiped at her eyes, and began the long journey home. She walked brazenly, cutting through bushes and bramble as they cut through her; she knew there were no other monsters to worry about in the daylight.

The biggest monster on the mountain had scared them all away.

She had come on a day late in winter, bearing a bright smile, and a voice that reeked of kindness.

She had also brought a friend bearing a flat expression, and a voice that reeked of boredom.

“C’mon, Fluttershy. The map gets it wrong sometimes. We should’ve left yesterday!”

Milkweed had been watching the strangers with rapt attention since the day they’d arrived. Ponies from outside of the village rarely came to visit, and almost never for anything beyond a trip to the few locals willing to barter. For the visitors that did take part in ventures beyond trade, they were never pegasi or unicorns.

“Rainbow Dash!” The yellow mare stomped a hoof, her pink mane bouncing at the movement. “We are going to stay here until we find that friendship problem and help solve it! Somepony could be suffering right now!”

And both of the strangers were pegasi.

“But it’s so boring here! And nopony even wants to talk to us!” The cyan mare threw her hooves in the air haphazardly. “The only reason I even came here was to make sure nopony would hurt you, and the most trouble that these ponies have given us is the stink-eye!”

“Then you can go, Rainbow. I’m staying here until I solve my friendship problem, and that’s final.”

A noisy ‘ugh’ left the rainbow-maned pony as she crossed her forelegs, but she said no more, and remained hovering by the yellow mare’s side.

“Oh, I’m so sorry you had to see that!”

Milkweed froze; one of the strangers was walking towards her. Before she could move, the yellow pegasus pulled to a stop in front of her.

“My name is Fluttershy,” she moved her hoof from her chest and extended it towards her annoyed-looking friend, “and this is Rainbow Dash.” Fluttershy smiled at Milkweed. “I don’t think we’ve spoken yet, so I just wanted to ask if you have a friendship problem that I could help you with.”

“Friendship… problem?” Fluttershy kept her smile up as Milkweed stood still, paralyzed in a mixture of fear and confusion. “Um… well…” Milkweed’s wandering eyes finally landed on Fluttershy’s own, and she stopped completely.

There was something earnest and sincere about the look in the yellow mare’s eyes. While the kind, soft-hearted voice of the pegasus had stopped Milkweed in her tracks, the full array of Fluttershy’s soul now peered out at Milkweed, and it enthralled her. Milkweed decided that if there was a pony that could help her, it had to be Fluttershy.

Milkweed’s mind bubbled and frothed; did she have a friendship problem? There were so many things that dissuaded life for her in the village, but out of all them…

Milkweed knew that nopony else in the village cared enough to eavesdrop on her, but she still spoke in a hushed tone. “Nopony likes me.”

Fluttershy’s eyes twinkled. “Do you know why?” she asked gently.

“Because…” Milkweed blinked, suddenly aware of how close they had gotten. “They know I can read. And they don’t like that.” Fluttershy made no move to pull away, though; in fact, Fluttershy got closer.

“Oh, that's awful! Just awful!” Milkweed, despite her earth-pony heritage, still found herself entrapped in a tight, feathery hug. She made no move to struggle, though. “Do ponies not like to read around here?”

“The village elders don’t like books,” Milkweed whispered. “They say that books are a sin, and an affront to the earth-pony way.”

Fluttershy pulled away, but held Milkweed by the withers. “But do you still read?”

Milkweed bit her lip; now she checked to see if anypony was listening before she spoke. “I have a few books left. They burned the rest of them.”

Fluttershy looked around as well, then to Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow, can you make sure nopony follows us?” She looked at Milkweed with a frown and a sharp crease in her visage. “I’d like her to feel more comfortable while we talk.” Groaning, Rainbow Dash lifted high into the sky, and Fluttershy led Milkweed onto a path leading out of the village. “What’s your name?”

“Milkweed.” Her chest eased up subconsciously.

“Milkweed. Asclepias. What a lovely name you have.”

Milkweed tilted her head. “What does that mean?”

“It’s the name for the genus those flowers belong to.” Milkweed gave her an even more odd look, but Fluttershy just smiled. “I read books, too. All of my friends do, even Rainbow Dash!”

“I heard that!” came the call from above.

Fluttershy sighed blissfully; she held a wing onto Milkweed, but her focus shifted onto the fresh environment around them. “I grow quite a few milkweeds in my garden. My monarch friends just love them.”

“Monarch friends?”

“They’re butterflies. They have beautiful wings that they love to show off. I always try to plant more milkweed for them every time they go through metamorphosis, but it’s not always easy; there’s so much to do, and it’s hard to find time for the little things. Like planting flowers for butterflies.” Fluttershy sighed. “But somepony has to.”

Milkweed soaked in the silence with Fluttershy for a little bit. She had never been one to take walks outside of the village, as she preferred doing her part to help the village keep moving, and keeping her thoughts to herself at home. Despite that, nature allowed her to think through the burden of its cacophony.

“Butterflies were my first animal friends.” Milkweed’s attention shot to Fluttershy. “They saved me, and helped me to see how beautiful the world is. I used to think things were awful, that everypony was mean, and that nopony would ever be friends with somepony like me.” Fluttershy met Milkweed’s gaze. “I was like you, Milkweed. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Like reading?” Milkweed tried.

“Just like reading,” Fluttershy nodded. “You learn quickly. That’s good. It really is awful that you’re surrounded by ponies who keep you from learning. That’s why you need friends to help you learn.”

Milkweed sulked at that. “But I don’t have any friends.”

When Fluttershy stopped trotting along the path, they both stopped. “You have it in you. The same spark that I have. I can feel it.” Fluttershy pressed a gentle hoof to Milkweed’s chest. “You might not be able to find friends in your village, at least not now, but I know that you can follow the same path I did. Animals are just as much ponies as we are, and they are more than willing to be your friend if you let them show you the way.” Milkweed replaced the spot on her chest with her own hoof when Fluttershy pulled away. “For us, it begins with a few animal friends.” Fluttershy began to smile again. “Trust me.”

After a pause, Milkweed felt it through the frog of her hoof; a pleasant warmth in her chest.

Fluttershy kept up her now sly beam. “My friend Twilight says that I’m an empath. And I’d like to think that—” She paused, and peered back at her cutie mark; the trio of butterflies on her flank had begun to glow. “That’s strange…” Suddenly, a steady stream of transparent butterflies lifted off and into the air, dissipating in a direction leading away from the village. Fluttershy pursed her lips. “That can’t be right.”

An abrupt roar decimated the calm cacophony of the forest surrounding them.

“Fluttershy, I think that was your friendship problem!”

Milkweed looked at Fluttershy, whose lips seemed flatter by the second. The butter-yellow pegasus looked at Milkweed, then to a perturbed flock of birds screaming for cover in the cloudless sky. “I think Rainbow Dash is right,” she muttered, though it wasn't clear to Milkweed if she was being addressed. “I trust the map, and if the map is saying that our friendship problem is that way, then it’s that way.” Finally, she sighed, and turned back to Milkweed. “I wish we could talk more, but that sounds like trouble, and I don’t want anypony to get hurt.”

Milkweed was suddenly fearful. “What am I supposed to do? We weren’t finished yet!”

“No, we aren’t,” Fluttershy said firmly. “But I have to go.” She paused, then relaxed her withers. “But you can finish what we’ve started.” Reaching into one of her saddlebags, she lifted out a rich-purple and gold-accented book. She gave it to Milkweed.

Milkweed strained to read the cover, but she managed. “The Friendship Journal?”

Fluttershy tapped the cover. “I carry one on me at all times for ponies just like you. Ponies I won’t always be around to help. Because friendship takes time.” She beamed proudly. “Everything my friends and I know about friendship is in here, and it’s a second edition, so you’ll even have some of our older problems to read about.”

“Fluttershy, come on! It’s going to get away!”

Fluttershy’s expression hardened. “If you ever have trouble figuring things out, the friendship lessons here will help. That’s a Pinkie Promise.”

As Fluttershy began to follow after her friend, Milkweed held the book close. She watched Fluttershy disappear over the trees. Milkweed quickly made for home. There was only one goal in her mind, now, and she was determined to succeed.

Milkweed was going to make some friends, even if it meant planting a few flowers.

As much as Milkweed wanted to boil up a pot of lavender tea, her expedition to the plateau had already wasted too much of her time; there was so much to do, and not enough time for her to worry about herself.

Just like Fluttershy, Milkweed, too, had her own animal sanctuary. It was an all-around benefit for everypony: the few animals that remained on the mountain had gathered around her den—which was little more than a lightly furnished hole in the ground, a Halihoof classic. The animals gave Milkweed ample opportunities to try talking to them, and they got a safe place to stay. Even as she approached the den in her rugged and ragged state, she was still greeted by her friends.

The only friends she could talk to.

“Yes! Hello everyone!” She nuzzled tiredly into the cloud of monarch butterflies as they all came in for a landing. “Yes, I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t find any more milkweeds; the rest of them are up on that plateau with that… monster.” The plume of butterflies lifted off like a flurry of solar flares. “Oh, don’t worry! I’m fine, and everything else is fine. It didn’t…” She paused, and remembered to breathe after a moment. “It didn’t hurt me.”

A rabbit hopped up to Milkweed, pulling her from her thoughts. “Yes?” As per usual, the rabbit gave no verbal reply, and instead gnawed its teeth on the air. “Oh… right.” With a sigh, Milkweed made her way to her garden.

Even if she couldn’t talk to all her friends, she could at least feed them all.

By the time everypony had eaten, the day was nearly at its end. For Milkweed, that meant asking the fireflies to lend her some light to read. Reading was a ritual in Milkweed’s animal sanctuary, and if a creature was going to stay there, she made it clear—even without words—that nothing would cut into her reading time.

In the dim firefly-light, most of Milkweed’s home stayed shrouded in darkness. There wasn’t much to look at, anyway; she had taken very few things with her into the forest. There were only four notable furnishings in the room: a cloth bedroll, a rickety-old camp cooking stove, a wooden table for her books and cutlery, and a chair for sitting… and reading.

It had been almost a year since she’d moved away from the village, and with only a few books, and fewer worth rereading—namely, her botany book, which had been instrumental in starting her garden—Milkweed had gone through the Friendship Journal more times than she could count. With time, she found that it was worth the effort, because things she’d missed tended to pop up all the time. Yet, Milkweed knew that the secret of Fluttershy’s fluency with animals would never reveal itself to her through her cornucopia of knowledge; the magical nature of Fluttershy’s empathy was evidence enough.

But she would try.

Milkweed opened her book.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.