It had been mere days since the incident. But to Fluttershy, it seemed like a millennium. Only yesterday, she had been able to touch and cuddle her beloved. Yet now that seemed like a mere distant memory. These thoughts made her eyes fog up as another wave of emotion came over her. She had been crying since last night. She couldn't even sleep. But, how could one after such a horrific tragedy?
She missed Twilight so much. Missed her more than anything. She didn't believe she could even go on alone. She was her light. Her love. Her life. And ultimately, her existence. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Twilight. But somepony seemed to have other plans. It is hard to describe the feeling of FINALLY having somepony understand what it's like. How it feels. To finally feel loved and cared for for the first time in your life. Only to have it ripped away from you right before your eyes.
The images flashed in her mind. Over. ANd over. And over. Her darling's blood smeared over the carpet, forever staining its light ivory color. The glassed fogged look in her eyes. She thought over and over of all the ways she could have stopped it. She SHOULD have been there. Sweet Celestia, why did she have to go out with Rarity that night of all nights?! She clutched her heart in pain. The memories swirled around her. Faster and faster, but just out of reach. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see as the world spun around her. Then all of a sudden she felt her legs buckle under her and her stomach hit the floor hard. Then, she blacked out.
She woke up on the floor, incredibly confused as to what had just happened. "Wh-where? Huh? Why am I.. on the.. floor?" As the memories came flooding back to her, she began to bawl again. But she had no tears left to cry. So she merely sniffled. "Wh-why? Why did I let her.. d-d-die? How could *sniff* I have let this happen? Why?! It - shouldn't have! No. No. No. It's just a dream. It must be. It's not real. It's not real. It'll end. It's just a dream. No. Not real. Not real. Not real."
She didn't know how long she had just laid there crying. Could have been minutes. Could have been days. Didn't matter anyway. The cramps in her stomach though told her it had been quite some time since her last meal. But... she just ignored it. Because she didn't care. She always ate with her beloved. She wouldn't eat alone. Not now, not ever.
She finally sat up and wiped at her red sleepless eyes. She remembered the face. His face. His evil glare burned into her memory. She couldn't tell the police though. She would be killed. But... maybe... maybe that wasn't so bad. No! She had to stand up for Twilly. Not herself befall the same fate. She had to get her revenge... she HAD to kill him.
Fluttershy had developed a plan. She knew exactly what she was going to do. What she had to do. For her beloved. She created a checklist. An old habit of Twilights. While she never had taken to writing things down, it just... felt right. She packed everything she would need into her saddlebags and strapped them tightly on her back.
As she walked down the old desolate dirt path, her hoofsteps echoed loudly breaking the calm silence of Luna’s night. Clip, clop. Clip, clop. While it was late into the night, the full moon was more than enough to illuminate her way. Even though tonight was particularly beautiful, Fluttershy’s heart felt too cold and dead to enjoy it. Clip, clop. Clip, clop. She looked ahead with the same solemn look on her face. Past the emotionless façade, if one were to pay close enough attention, they would have known she was more so on the verge of crying. Twilight would have. Twilight always could tell when she was in pain. Clip, clop. Clip, clop.
” Oh my. I’m sorry Twilight, but a coworker called in sick last minute. They really need somepony to watch the animals and I’m their last option. I’ll see you in a few hours?”
“Sure. It’s okay honey I understand. I... need to get some cleaning done anyways. I love you.” Twilight leaned close and gave Fluttershy a passionate kiss on the lips. And although it was short, Fluttershy could recall every detail. The soft feel of her fur against her snout, the warmth of her tongue, the sweet taste of her soft lips against hers. Even though she had experienced this many times before, it never failed to make her blush cutely.
“I love you too... but your sure you’ll be okay all alone this late? W-what if you get lonely? What if something happens and I’m not here to talk? What if-”
“Shh. It’ll be okay. I’m alright alone. Hurry along now, you mustn’t be late.”
“O-okay. I trust you. Oh my! Your right, I’m gonna be late! I’ll see you later!”
These last memories of her beloved stung. They made her angry. If she had only stayed... why did she have to listen to her? Oh, how she wished how special those last moments were. They were careless meaningless slivers of time that she expected to forget and didn’t give much care to at that time but now... she cherished them more than anything.
Her cold body lay still on the ground, life draining from her slowly... her fur was pale and matted with blood. So... so much blood. Fluttershy couldn’t help but admit it was... beautiful. In an odd messed up way, it was the most lovely thing she had ever seen. She stared with morbid fascination, her eyes blank. And while her tears ran free, she didn’t make a sound. Just stared unblinking. She collapsed at the side of her beloved, rubbing a hoof over her still-warm body.
Her face was one of almost inexpressible pain agony and fear. Fluttershy scooped the limp princess into her hooves and gave her one last cuddle, giving her all the love she could. Maybe silently wishing it would revive her. After about 30 minutes she didn’t want to let go. She didn’t know how she would. But she had to none the less. For the last time, she slowly and gently released her back on the ground, treating her with the utmost care. She gave her one final kiss, and trotted over to phone to call an ambulance.
Before they arrived she grabbed a small vile and scooped a bit of blood into it. She added some preservatives she used for her animals in order to prevent the blood from clotting. She then proceeded to attach a small chain to it. She placed it in her bedroom, along with a cut lock of Twilights hair. Not a shrine- she wasn’t crazy. No. Not psychotic either... just.. grieving. She just wanted something to remember her by... not crazy. Not crazy. Not crazy.
Not crazy. Not crazy. Not crazy. N̸͚̏͜o̸̙̯͐t̶̠̜̑ ̷̘̀͠c̶͓͔̀̚r̸͓͛̿a̷͚͒̅ẓ̷́ẙ̶͈͚̃.̴̛̟͋ ̴͉̳̀͌N̸͚̏͜o̸̙̯͐t̶̠̜̑ ̷̘̀͠c̶͓͔̀̚r̸͓͛̿a̷͚͒̅ẓ̷́ẙ̶͈͚̃.̴̛̟͋ ̴͉̳̀͌N̸͚̏͜o̸̙̯͐t̶̠̜̑ ̷̘̀͠c̶͓͔̀̚r̸͓͛̿a̷͚͒̅ẓ̷́ẙ̶͈͚̃.̴̛̟͋ ̴͉̳̀͌N̸͚̏͜o̸̙̯͐t̶̠̜̑ ̷̘̀͠c̶͓͔̀̚r̸͓͛̿a̷͚͒̅ẓ̷́ẙ̶͈͚̃.̴̛̟͋ ̴͉̳̀͌N̸͕̍ó̶̯̘̀̀͑t̸͔͇̃̽͆ ̸͎͙͈̽͛̌ć̶̨͙̓́r̴͙͌â̷̜̕͝z̵̨̪̼͍̞̐y̴̹̞̻̯̲͊.̴͎̑̀̅̕ ̷̡͙̗̭̊̔̀N̶̦̲̰͖̂͛̒͗̄͝ō̸̖̻͈͓̠͖̝͋͘͜͝t̷͇̦̯̹̿̆̈́̈́̓̇ ̶̞̙̣͌̾c̶̻̍r̵̝̙͓͍̥̹̓̿̋͆̚̕͜à̶̛̭̭̺̹̭͂̓̀̆̆͠ẓ̴̦̃̄̍̌̊͌y̴̹͐̋.̶͇̹̺̲̇̃̉̒͐̒̊̑ ̷̮̬͇̣̟͕̆̄́̽̑͊̎͝N̶̦̲̰͖̂͛̒͗̄͝ō̸̖̻͈͓̠͖̝͋͘͜͝t̷͇̦̯̹̿̆̈́̈́̓̇ ̶̞̙̣͌̾c̶̻̍r̵̝̙͓͍̥̹̓̿̋͆̚̕͜à̶̛̭̭̺̹̭͂̓̀̆̆͠ẓ̴̦̃̄̍̌̊͌y̴̹͐̋.̶͇̹̺̲̇̃̉̒͐̒̊̑ ̷̮̬͇̣̟͕̆̄́̽̑͊̎͝N̶̦̲̰͖̂͛̒͗̄͝ō̸̖̻͈͓̠͖̝͋͘͜͝t̷͇̦̯̹̿̆̈́̈́̓̇ ̶̞̙̣͌̾c̶̻̍r̵̝̙͓͍̥̹̓̿̋͆̚̕͜à̶̛̭̭̺̹̭͂̓̀̆̆͠ẓ̴̦̃̄̍̌̊͌y̴̹͐̋.̶͇̹̺̲̇̃̉̒͐̒̊̑ ̷̮̬͇̣̟͕̆̄́̽̑͊̎͝N̶̦̲̰͖̂͛̒͗̄͝ō̸̖̻͈͓̠͖̝͋͘͜͝t̷͇̦̯̹̿̆̈́̈́̓̇ ̶̞̙̣͌̾
c̶̻̍r̵̝̙͓͍̥̹̓̿̋͆̚̕͜à̶̛̭̭̺̹̭͂̓̀̆̆͠ẓ̴̦̃̄̍̌̊͌y̴̹͐̋.̶͇̹̺̲̇̃̉̒͐̒̊̑ ̷̮̬͇̣̟͕̆̄́̽̑͊̎͝N̶̦̲̰͖̂͛̒͗̄͝ō̸̖̻͈͓̠͖̝͋͘͜͝t̷͇̦̯̹̿̆̈́̈́̓̇ ̶̞̙̣͌̾c̶̻̍r̵̝̙͓͍̥̹̓̿̋͆̚̕͜à̶̛̭̭̺̹̭͂̓̀̆̆͠ẓ̴̦̃̄̍̌̊͌y̴̹͐̋.̶͇̹̺̲̇̃̉̒͐̒̊̑ ̷̮̬͇̣̟͕̆̄́̽̑͊̎͝N̶̦̲̰͖̂͛̒͗̄͝ō̸̖̻͈͓̠͖̝͋͘͜͝t̷͇̦̯̹̿̆̈́̈́̓̇ ̶̞̙̣͌̾c̶̻̍r̵̝̙͓͍̥̹̓̿̋͆̚̕͜à̶̛̭̭̺̹̭͂̓̀̆̆͠ẓ̴̦̃̄̍̌̊͌y̴̹͐̋.̶͇̹̺̲̇̃̉̒͐̒̊̑ ̷̮̬͇̣̟͕̆̄́̽̑͊̎͝Ň̴̝̠̹̭́̈̈́̓ͅo̵̫̐́̄̾̀͒͝t̷̨̢̧̥͙̜͉͉̔̊̓̀̎̃̂͒̆͆ ̵̡͖̣̫̺̭̈́̇c̷̨̖͔̩̟̻͛̓̓̔̍̎̕͝r̸̛̼͖̺̘̟̫̾̈́̄͐̃ã̷͔̲̭͓̱͙̙z̸̫̹͕̺̜̳͍̰͂̃̏͊̔̈͐̕y̴̮̺̣̯̼̰͖͎̋͜.̸̧̯̖̠͖͓̯̩̋͐̍͂́͛̕ ̸̘̓̀͂̈́͑̚Ň̴̝̠̹̭́̈̈́̓ͅo̵̫̐́̄̾̀͒͝t̷̨̢̧̥͙̜͉͉̔̊̓̀̎̃̂͒̆͆ ̵̡͖̣̫̺̭̈́̇c̷̨̖͔̩̟̻͛̓̓̔̍̎̕͝r̸̛̼͖̺̘̟̫̾̈́̄͐̃ã̷͔̲̭͓̱͙̙z̸̫̹͕̺̜̳͍̰͂̃̏͊̔̈͐̕y̴̮̺̣̯̼̰͖͎̋͜.̸̧̯̖̠͖͓̯̩̋͐̍͂́͛̕ ̸̘̓̀͂̈́͑̚Ň̴̝̠̹̭́̈̈́̓ͅo̵̫̐́̄̾̀͒͝t̷̨̢̧̥͙̜͉͉̔̊̓̀̎̃̂͒̆͆ ̵̡͖̣̫̺̭̈́̇c̷̨̖͔̩̟̻͛̓̓̔̍̎̕͝r̸̛̼͖̺̘̟̫̾̈́̄͐̃ã̷͔̲̭͓̱͙̙z̸̫̹͕̺̜̳͍̰͂̃̏͊̔̈͐̕y̴̮̺̣̯̼̰͖͎̋͜.̸̧̯̖̠͖͓̯̩̋͐̍͂́͛̕ ̸̘̓̀͂̈́͑̚Ň̴̝̠̹̭́̈̈́̓ͅo̵̫̐́̄̾̀͒͝t̷̨̢̧̥͙̜͉͉̔̊̓̀̎̃̂͒̆͆ ̵̡͖̣̫̺̭̈́̇c̷̨̖͔̩̟̻͛̓̓̔̍̎̕͝r̸̛̼͖̺̘̟̫̾̈́̄͐̃ã̷͔̲̭͓̱͙̙z̸̫̹͕̺̜̳͍̰͂̃̏͊̔̈͐̕y̴̮̺̣̯̼̰͖͎̋͜.̸̧̯̖̠͖͓̯̩̋͐̍͂́͛̕ ̸̘̓̀͂̈́͑̚Ň̴̝̠̹̭́̈̈́̓ͅo̵̫̐́̄̾̀͒͝t̷̨̢̧̥͙̜͉͉̔̊̓̀̎̃̂͒̆͆ ̵̡͖̣̫̺̭̈́̇c̷̨̖͔̩̟̻͛̓̓̔̍̎̕͝r̸̛̼͖̺̘̟̫̾̈́̄͐̃ã̷͔̲̭͓̱͙̙z̸̫̹͕̺̜̳͍̰͂̃̏͊̔̈͐̕y̴̮̺̣̯̼̰͖͎̋͜.̸̧̯̖̠͖͓̯̩̋͐̍͂́͛̕ ̸̘̓̀͂̈́͑̚N̶͕̝̓̓̀̀̄̈́̄ȯ̴͖͚̗̳̝̗͍̓̏͋͂̂̓̓͗̿͂̚͜͝t̷̨̯̥͉̲͈̳̬͕̗͙̟͕͍͒̿ ̸̡̩̭̮̭͈̞͕̞̀̆̑̈́̚ç̴̣̹̱̰̞͌̓̏͂̄̏̒͌̅̿̈̿͛̕͠ͅr̵̪͇̦͆̑̔̉͛̀̒̚͝͝͝ą̵̛͕̪̠͚̿͑̈́̾͑̃́̿̈͊͋̂̀̽͊ż̴̜̼̤̬̊̎̇̽̿̓y̵̛̦͓͖͖̗̤̯͑͋̒̆͊͐̇̌̓̚̚̕.̴̨̡͉͓̖̖̹͍̤͔̳̹͓͚͈̓͌̓̓̂͌̂̒̓̕ͅ ̷̺̝̘̼̙̦̤̞͍͍̹̯̩̉̿̔̾̅̄̃̄͑̓N̶͕̝̓̓̀̀̄̈́̄ȯ̴͖͚̗̳̝̗͍̓̏͋͂̂̓̓͗̿͂̚͜͝t̷̨̯̥͉̲͈̳̬͕̗͙̟͕͍͒̿ ̸̡̩̭̮̭͈̞͕̞̀̆̑̈́̚ç̴̣̹̱̰̞͌̓̏͂̄̏̒͌̅̿̈̿͛̕͠ͅr̵̪͇̦͆̑̔̉͛̀̒̚͝͝͝ą̵̛͕̪̠͚̿͑̈́̾͑̃́̿̈͊͋̂̀̽͊ż̴̜̼̤̬̊̎̇̽̿̓y̵̛̦͓͖͖̗̤̯͑͋̒̆͊͐̇̌̓̚̚̕.̴̨̡͉͓̖̖̹͍̤͔̳̹͓͚͈̓͌̓̓̂͌̂̒̓̕ͅ ̷̺̝̘̼̙̦̤̞͍͍̹̯̩̉̿̔̾̅̄̃̄͑̓N̶͕̝̓̓̀̀̄̈́̄ȯ̴͖͚̗̳̝̗͍̓̏͋͂̂̓̓͗̿͂̚͜͝t̷̨̯̥͉̲͈̳̬͕̗͙̟͕͍͒̿ ̸̡̩̭̮̭͈̞͕̞̀̆̑̈́̚ç̴̣̹̱̰̞͌̓̏͂̄̏̒͌̅̿̈̿͛̕͠ͅr̵̪͇̦͆̑̔̉͛̀̒̚͝͝͝ą̵̛͕̪̠͚̿͑̈́̾͑̃́̿̈͊͋̂̀̽͊ż̴̜̼̤̬̊̎̇̽̿̓y̵̛̦͓͖͖̗̤̯͑͋̒̆͊͐̇̌̓̚̚̕.̴̨̡͉͓̖̖̹͍̤͔̳̹͓͚͈̓͌̓̓̂͌̂̒̓̕ͅ ̷̺̝̘̼̙̦̤̞͍͍̹̯̩̉̿̔̾̅̄̃̄͑̓N̶͕̝̓̓̀̀̄̈́̄ȯ̴͖͚̗̳̝̗͍̓̏͋͂̂̓̓͗̿͂̚͜͝t̷̨̯̥͉̲͈̳̬͕̗͙̟͕͍͒̿ ̸̡̩̭̮̭͈̞͕̞̀̆̑̈́̚ç̴̣̹̱̰̞͌̓̏͂̄̏̒͌̅̿̈̿͛̕͠ͅr̵̪͇̦͆̑̔̉͛̀̒̚͝͝͝ą̵̛͕̪̠͚̿͑̈́̾͑̃́̿̈͊͋̂̀̽͊ż̴̜̼̤̬̊̎̇̽̿̓y̵̛̦͓͖͖̗̤̯͑͋̒̆͊͐̇̌̓̚̚̕.̴̨̡͉͓̖̖̹͍̤͔̳̹͓͚͈̓͌̓̓̂͌̂̒̓̕ͅ ̷̺̝̘̼̙̦̤̞͍͍̹̯̩̉̿̔̾̅̄̃̄͑̓N̶͕̝̓̓̀̀̄̈́̄ȯ̴͖͚̗̳̝̗͍̓̏͋͂̂̓̓͗̿͂̚͜͝t̷̨̯̥͉̲͈̳̬͕̗͙̟͕͍͒̿ ̸̩̭̮̭͈̞͕̀̆̑̈́̚-
N̶̢̨̹̭̰̟̗͔̙̭͕̤̬͎͔̣̏̓͐̐̀̀́͆̆̾͂̊̊̓̌̂̓̕͜ǫ̸̙͔͓̰͇̳͍̪̮̩̭̲̳͚̥͎͙̼̮͇̺̤̽̽͌̐̃̀̅̃̾̂̐̽͛͆̈́͛̑̒͝͝t̴̢̨̨̤̝͍̩̠̫̯̣̳̦̠̲̱̬̗̘͇̤̱̊ͅ ̶̭́̽̽͗̓̉̎̋̎͑͝͝c̶͇̭͌̿͆̌͐͌̽̐̔̃̑́̚̚̚͝r̴̡̝̹͇̗͓̟̅̽̓̆̉̔̉͂̓͝a̶̲͉̙̘͚͑̌̑̈́͆̊̃̍̈́͆̈́̓̆̄̑̀̔͘͝͠z̷̨̧̛̠̼̗̟̖͚͖̫̪̞̺̖̓̾̎͋̏̑͒̓̀̽̓̇͊̓͘̚͜͝͝͠ẙ̸̡̨͚̜͈̪̳̗̰̯̠͍̮̮̄̄̂̓̓̃̿͗̉̈́̍͛̎͌͌͋͊̚.̷̢͚͔̠̤̭͙̯̫̰͚̖̦͇͈̼̎̾̾̅͑͝ ̷̢̰̞̪͔̫̝̯̹͖̠̮̦͉̐͛͝ͅͅͅN̶̢̨̹̭̰̟̗͔̙̭͕̤̬͎͔̣̏̓͐̐̀̀́͆̆̾͂̊̊̓̌̂̓̕͜ǫ̸̙͔͓̰͇̳͍̪̮̩̭̲̳͚̥͎͙̼̮͇̺̤̽̽͌̐̃̀̅̃̾̂̐̽͛͆̈́͛̑̒͝͝t̴̢̨̨̤̝͍̩̠̫̯̣̳̦̠̲̱̬̗̘͇̤̱̊ͅ ̶̭́̽̽͗̓̉̎̋̎͑͝͝c̶͇̭͌̿͆̌͐͌̽̐̔̃̑́̚̚̚͝r̴̡̝̹͇̗͓̟̅̽̓̆̉̔̉͂̓͝a̶̲͉̙̘͚͑̌̑̈́͆̊̃̍̈́͆̈́̓̆̄̑̀̔͘͝͠z̷̨̧̛̠̼̗̟̖͚͖̫̪̞̺̖̓̾̎͋̏̑͒̓̀̽̓̇͊̓͘̚͜͝͝͠ẙ̸̡̨͚̜͈̪̳̗̰̯̠͍̮̮̄̄̂̓̓̃̿͗̉̈́̍͛̎͌͌͋͊̚.̷̢͚͔̠̤̭͙̯̫̰͚̖̦͇͈̼̎̾̾̅͑͝ ̷̢̰̞̪͔̫̝̯̹͖̠̮̦͉̐͛͝ͅͅͅN̶̢̨̹̭̰̟̗͔̙̭͕̤̬͎͔̣̏̓͐̐̀̀́͆̆̾͂̊̊̓̌̂̓̕͜ǫ̸̙͔͓̰͇̳͍̪̮̩̭̲̳͚̥͎͙̼̮͇̺̤̽̽͌̐̃̀̅̃̾̂̐̽͛͆̈́͛̑̒͝͝t̴̢̨̨̤̝͍̩̠̫̯̣̳̦̠̲̱̬̗̘͇̤̱̊ͅ ̶̭́̽̽͗̓̉̎̋̎͑͝͝c̶͇̭͌̿͆̌͐͌̽̐̔̃̑́̚̚̚͝r̴̡̝̹͇̗͓̟̅̽̓̆̉̔̉͂̓͝a̶̲͉̙̘͚͑̌̑̈́͆̊̃̍̈́͆̈́̓̆̄̑̀̔͘͝͠z̷̨̧̛̠̼̗̟̖͚͖̫̪̞̺̖̓̾̎͋̏̑͒̓̀̽̓̇͊̓͘̚͜͝͝͠ẙ̸̡̨͚̜͈̪̳̗̰̯̠͍̮̮̄̄̂̓̓̃̿͗̉̈́̍͛̎͌͌͋͊̚.̷̢͚͔̠̤̭͙̯̫̰͚̖̦͇͈̼̎̾̾̅͑͝ ̷̢̰̞̪͔̫̝̯̹͖̠̮̦͉̐͛͝ͅͅͅN̶̢̨̹̭̰̟̗͔̙̭͕̤̬͎͔̣̏̓͐̐̀̀́͆̆̾͂̊̊̓̌̂̓̕͜ǫ̸̙͔͓̰͇̳͍̪̮̩̭̲̳͚̥͎͙̼̮͇̺̤̽̽͌̐̃̀̅̃̾̂̐̽͛͆̈́͛̑̒͝͝t̴̢̨̨̤̝͍̩̠̫̯̣̳̦̠̲̱̬̗̘͇̤̱̊ͅ ̶̭́̽̽͗̓̉̎̋̎͑͝͝c̶͇̭͌̿͆̌͐͌̽̐̔̃̑́̚̚̚͝r̴̡̝̹͇̗͓̟̅̽̓̆̉̔̉͂̓͝a̶̲͉̙̘͚͑̌̑̈́͆̊̃̍̈́͆̈́̓̆̄̑̀̔͘͝͠z̷̨̧̛̠̼̗̟̖͚͖̫̪̞̺̖̓̾̎͋̏̑͒̓̀̽̓̇͊̓͘̚͜͝͝͠ẙ̸̡̨͚̜͈̪̳̗̰̯̠͍̮̮̄̄̂̓̓̃̿͗̉̈́̍͛̎͌͌͋͊̚.̷̢͚͔̠̤̭͙̯̫̰͚̖̦͇͈̼̎̾̾̅͑͝ ̷̢̰̞̪͔̫̝̯̹͖̠̮̦͉̐͛͝ͅͅͅN̶̢̨̹̭̰̟̗͔̙̭͕̤̬͎͔̣̏̓͐̐̀̀́͆̆̾͂̊̊̓̌̂̓̕͜ǫ̸̙͔͓̰͇̳͍̪̮̩̭̲̳͚̥͎͙̼̮͇̺̤̽̽͌̐̃̀̅̃̾̂̐̽͛͆̈́͛̑̒͝͝t̴̢̨̨̤̝͍̩̠̫̯̣̳̦̠̲̱̬̗̘͇̤̱̊ͅ ̶̭́̽̽͗̓̉̎̋̎͑͝͝c̶͇̭͌̿͆̌͐͌̽̐̔̃̑́̚̚̚͝r̴̡̝̹͇̗͓̟̅̽̓̆̉̔̉͂̓͝a̶̲͉̙̘͚͑̌̑̈́͆̊̃̍̈́͆̈́̓̆̄̑̀̔͘͝͠z̷̨̧̛̠̼̗̟̖͚͖̫̪̞̺̖̓̾̎͋̏̑͒̓̀̽̓̇͊̓͘̚͜͝͝͠ẙ̸̡̨͚̜͈̪̳̗̰̯̠͍̮̮̄̄̂̓̓̃̿͗̉̈́̍͛̎͌͌͋͊̚
“Ahhhh!” Fluttershy awoke from the nightmare with a start, shaking and sweating gasping for air. Not a nightmare, but more a flashback. It was far too accurate. Too real. None the less, she picked herself up from the dusty dirt road and continued trotting onward in the direction of her destination. Still catching her breath. She slipped on a mane and tail net in preparation.
She peered into the unlit open window, listening for any disturbances. All she heard was a calm steady breathing. But not too steady. This meant the inhabitant was asleep. She walked around to the side door and lifted her right forehoof, slipping a glove over in and turning the knob. Luckily, it was unlocked. Of course she was prepared if it hadn’t been. It was just quite a bit easier to conceal evidence with none of forced entry.
She silently opened the door as slow as possible, lifting it slightly so as not to let it rub too much. She closed it in a similar manner. She took slow deliberate steps, making sure to distribute her weight evenly and slowly. She crept to the bedroom, following a path closest to the edge where the wall meets the floor. It was less likely to creak because it was walked on far less than any other spots. Presumably at least.
She opened the bedroom door cautiously, gently, and slow.
