The first day Miffin did not show up at feeding time, Fluttershy was unconcerned.
Bunnies did value their private life from time to time, and some preferred to forage for themselves, with the official feeding time being more of an extra snack or a good meal when the weather was either too bad or too good to be used for food search.
The second day she took note, but made no more out of it than making sure to leave some extra feed in the spots she knew Miffin tended to claim as her own. The bunny was not most the sociable, a trait not so unusual. Angel was much less of an outlier than most ponies knew.
The third day she carefully surveyed the grazing flock, noting the continued absence of white fur with brown spots. And Fluttershy felt the first uncomfortable stirring in her belly, but tried not to expect the worst. Miffin was not a steadfast resident of the cabin, and so belonged to the group of animals that was not quite wild, but still wild enough that they did not fully view ‘Shy as the best solution to their problems. And while Miffin was not particularly young, the rabbit was not so old that it should be an issue.
Fluttershy sighed and spend a few hours carefully asking around, seeking out the bunnies she knew was part of the same colony as Miffin, a grouping of burrows a bit away from the cabin. None of them had seen or noted the missing rabbit, but none seem worried. Colony animals could be close, but did rarely have the same connection as other social species. Fluttershy tried to find some comfort in that knowledge.
The fourth day, Fluttershy knew.
None of the other animals came close as she retrieved the spade from the shed, nor as she dug a coarse length of canvas out of the cupboard where she kept her sewing supplies.
She was almost alone as she slowly walked towards the burrows, spade and fabric carefully balanced on her back. But only almost, here and there her animal friends would peek at her from behind trees and bushes, softly following her with their gazes.
Fluttershy did not blame them.
They would not approach her yet, afterwards, yes. For comfort, but admittedly not so much in understanding.
There was nothing malicious, and no ill will at all in their carefully averted eyes the few times she locked gazes. It was grounded in fear, a nebulous uncertainty that Fluttershy knew they would not be able to explain, even if they had the words for it. A few, a rare sample few, such as Angel, might get close, but even he would not approach her until after, such was the instinctive drive she knew they had.
Fluttershy arrived at the hole she remembered Miffin used to inhabit, carefully checking for tracks, fresh pellets or any other signs of life. There was none.
She lowered herself to the hole and felt for the angle of the hole with a hoof, noting with a hint of satisfaction that it did not immediately dip deeply into the ground.
Then she began digging.
The loam was sunbaked and hard, and while the spade was bended so as to ease use for both wings and mouth, it was strenuous work. But what Fluttershy lacked in her flight, her actual strength was greater than what most knew.
As more dirt was moved, she had to let go of the spade and use her hooves to move rocks and clear the hole as not to lose track of it in the upended earth.
The sun had lifted a hoof-with above treetops when the direction of the hole split in two. Fluttershy, stopped, carefully exhaling as she regretted not bringing any water. She momentarily considered the dark shapes lingering out the corner of her eye, but rejected the thought. They would bring her some if she asked, but the distress they would feel approaching the hole was a price she was not willing to pay.
She observed the two holes. One continued down, while the other branched to the side, possible to a smaller chamber. She wedged herself into what was already dug out and gently felt with her hoof into the holes, but found nothing but clods of dirt and pebbles.
Continuing with the downwards hole would be harder, but digging out the side chamber could very well be a waste of time if it turned out to be empty. But again, she would risk wasting hours reaching the very bottom of the burrow if the sidechamber was where she could find Miffin.
She carefully turned her attention towards the sidebranch.
As the sun neared zenith her mind began to wander, and she wondered at her friends’ reaction if they could have seen her now. Rarity would obviously be severely distressed at the amount of soil now rubbed into both fur and feathers, Fluttershy herself did not even want to think of the state of her mane. A visit to the spa would be quite nice when this was over. But not right away, that was not possible.
Applejack and Rainbow would likely approve of the hard work in itself. Well, Applejack more than Rainbow.
Pinkie would probably not even question it, or question everything, from the hole, to the spade to the very color of the sky, before eagerly supplying her aid.
Fluttershy allowed herself the shadow of a smile at the thought.
As for Twilight.
Fluttershy felt a faint frown overtake the smile as she brushed away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck in the dirt on her nose.
Twilight would be the first word the question Fluttershy knew they all would ask.
Why?
The bunny was already in the ground, so why disturb it? It would be much easier to simply collapse the hole, and let that be it. Why so much work for an answer that was inevitable?
Fluttershy winced as the spade hit a root with too much force, and pain twinged through her teeth
They would not understand, had it been Angel they would, she was certain. But Miffin? Whom they probably never knew existed, and even if they did, would likely only see as an animal at the very fringe of Fluttershy’s domain?
They would not understand the need for certainty, and the need to close the hole afterwards. Even if she collapsed the hole, the feel would still be there. Burrows such as these should be not just filled, but also emptied, or it would stagnate, fill the very earth with an empty uncertainty, an unfulfillment that would taint the place for years.
At least, that was how Fluttershy felt.
She knew that in the wild, in the true wild, it would happen all the time. Burrows would be abandoned, holes filled up by the rabbits themselves, until years and years the colony could retake chambers now empty.
But this was her animals, her land, her responsibility. She would not have young bunnies to be frightened when exploring newfound tunnels.
Or old friends avoiding the place, knowing what was laying forgotten beneath the surface.
And then there was the guilt, for not having seen it, for not having instilled the trust to approach her when it was needed.
For not feeling as despondent as she ought to.
Miffin was a good bunny, a bit reserved, but decently friendly when approached the right way. It was not her fault that Fluttershy had never build that much of a connection to her. Losing anyone of her animals was always a blow to Fluttershy, but some hurt more than others.
It should not be that way.
It ought not to be that way.
Her friends would not understand.
She was no longer just digging, but stopped after every third heave of the spade, carefully feeling into the tunnel.
The sun had dipped visible closer to the treeline when Fluttershy finally felt the faint brush of fur against her hoof.
Carefully she pulled back, feeling as her heart pounded against her ribs.
This was the worst part.
She turned back, spending a moment to gently unfold the canvas, letting the sunlight warm it.
Then she returned and slowly unearthed Miffin.
The body was cold, but soft.
It had happened a few days ago.
Fluttershy allowed herself the tiniest bit of relief. There had been no prolonged suffering, and with how well Miffin had looked the last time Fluttershy had seen her it must have been quick.
Still, Fluttershy bit down on the whimper threatening to escape her as she forced herself to closely examine the brown and white bundle.
She found no wounds, no boils or other signs of illness. It had been quite sudden.
Fluttershy tried to suppress a smidge of fear. There could be many causes of this, but some of them meant that she would have to keep a very close eye on the others the next few days.
There was a soft ruckus among the silent shadows as she laid the bunny on the canvas and wrapped it up. They were leaving now, but some would be waiting for her elsewhere. For now, finally alone as she collapsed the remaining holes, smoothing the dirt so as leave less of an open scar. It would be overgrown before fall.
This time the canvas was the only thing carried on her back, the spade was gripped between her teeth. The taste of dirt was mildly unnerving, in particularly with thoughts of what could be hidden in the soil she carried with her, and so she even took flight, as to not track the dirt around with her, she would have to thoroughly wash anyway. But it was a question of respect.
It wasn’t really a graveyard, but it also was.
The spot was sunny and quiet, sheltered between the hills, who in turn was surrounded by white birch trees.
Several of her animal friends was already there, some of them waiting with flowers and large green leaves grasped in claws and paws.
This time they helped dig into the earth, and carefully wadded the dirt with the leaves before Fluttershy solemnly placed the canvas-wrapped body into the hole.
The dirt was gently returned, softly packed and covered in flowers.
A rock was presented, white quartz with small brown inclusions.
It was perfect, and she let them know so.
When she was younger, back when she had just learned about the joy of the life under the clouds, as well as its darker sides, she had herself spend hours searching for just the right marker. But as time passed, the animals had overtaken that aspect on their own.
It pleased Fluttershy, though she sometimes wondered why they did so. Mostly she suspected that while what came before was too foreign and concerning for the animals, they had enough understanding of sorrow and grief to appreciate the ceremony.
But there were times she wondered if they only did it for her.
For a moment there was no sound, even the nearby birds silent as Fluttershy stood with her head bowed before the grave.
Carefully she reached out and gently brushed a hoof against the stone.
“You were a good bunny.”
As she returned to stand on all four legs, the animals began to quietly move away. Some of those who spend most of their time at the cabin came close to her offering wings, paws and soft fur as comfort, but she carefully asked them not to. Not yet. She would need a bath first, and a proper cleanse.
Angel, who understood the most, gave her a simply nod and hopped away, brushing against Harry on the way, gesturing for the bear to follow him.
Fluttershy watched them all leave, and sighed as she began to notice how her fur was faintly itching
Had it not been for her suspicions and fears, she would have simply taken a dip in the nearby stream. But some things spread more easily in water.
Carefully she picked up the spade once more, and slowly flew back home.
In the back yard a large tub already sat ready, water even slightly steaming. And Fluttershy felt her eyes slightly moisten as she realized that Angel had even found the right bottles of cleaning solution.
He was getting the biggest carrot later.
She started with the spade, thoroughly rinsing it three times before she allowed herself to enter the water.
For a moment she allowed herself to simply sit in the water, trying not to think too deeply on anything than the best memories of Miffin she had.
There was not many, and she realized that she spent more time thinking of other bunnies, some long gone, others from just the day before.
What was worse, was that her feelings of mourning were faint, barely stirring below the more practical fears of an illness spreading.
Guilt was much more prominent.
Was it fair, was it truly fair of her to love some animals so much, and to love others so little? Yes, some animals paid more attention to her than others, and while it felt nice, should she not herself be less selfish with her love? She could have spent more time to get to know Miffin, could spend more time with all of them, even if there was days she felt did not have enough hours for all the needed to do.
She ought to feel more, to be sadder. Miffin was gone, and she all she felt was guilt that her sorrow was so shallow.
The sound of drumming of feet broke her out of her train of thoughts, and as she lifted her head she found Angel standing some safe lengths away, his previous demureness replaced with a frown.
And Fluttershy smiled, guiltily, relieved, ashamed.
She apologized and promised to finish right away.
Angel harrumphed, and gestured to Harry who stood ready with the hose.
Fluttershy dutifully finished soaping in both mane and fur and trod up to let Harry rinse her.
It was cold.
That was fine.
She deserved it.
