The Brave Little Caretaker

If the newcomer to Ponyville had known anything about the yellow pegasus, then the most surprising thing would have been catching her in speech. When it came to dealing with other ponies, the pegasus didn't really talk all that much -- and a paradoxical portion of that was because her talent was for communication.

Something which, when she was at home, had to be used just about constantly.

Her duties tended to leave her completely talked out by around mid-morning. The pegasus had taken up the global sport of Shhhh, largely in the hope that the bulk of those she hosted at the cottage would eventually be willing to indulge in a ten-hour round. And if she did manage to make it into town on a too-hot, overly humid summer morning (which, as far as the fresh arrival was concerned, served as proof towards the rumored incompetence of the local weather coordinator), she would move about in near-total silence. This included the minimal impacts from her hooves against cobblestone. The pegasus didn't really fly all that much, and possessed a means of trotting which suggested that her keratin was desperately trying to apologize to the street for having been such a bother.

Those who knew her understood that she didn't really speak all that much. She certainly almost never talked to herself.

And yet, as she half-slid her hooves along the road, sentences emerged. Each had a noticeable hesitation at the start, as if the pegasus had needed to scavenge stray decibels from the air before putting them to use -- but they came into the world all the same.

"...seven!" the mare softly exclaimed for what appeared to be the benefit of her own ears. "...how did I ever manage to get seven at once...!"

And then she very quietly giggled to herself, before moving a little further down the road. After a quick glance at her surroundings to see how many ponies had caught her laughing.

Even with the relative lack of volume involved, it was a rather merry sort of giggle. It was the sound produced by a mare who wasn't particularly good at jokes, had finally found a workable one, and was telling it to herself over and over while marveling at the fact that it continued to be funny.

If the newcomer had known anything real about the mare, she would have recognized that something was decidedly unusual.

But she didn't know anything about the pegasus, because 'anything' was too small of a quantity. The fresh-off-the-train earth pony (who'd been in town for less than an hour, had already checked in at the hotel, and was looking around a little before seeking out a real estate agent) knew everything about her. Because when it came to knowledge, the mare generally understood whatever she'd decided to tell herself and if that was going to be her main source of information, then why stop after a few basic facts?

She knew the pegasus. And because she'd told herself that she knew the yellow mare, she'd already decided to loathe her.

The new arrival was somewhat smaller than the average for her species, without much in the way of muscle tone. (She'd told herself that physical power was unattractive.) She possessed celadon fur, with a mane and tail of carefully-arranged flowing navy. The arrangements in question took about thirty minutes per morning, and required diagrams so complex as to confound the Empire's stylists.

She was also accompanied by a shifting, wriggly, intensely curious mop.

That was most of what the locals could determine about the -- creature? -- at first glance. The earth pony had a leash tied around her left front pastern, and the other end eventually led to... well, take a mop. Get rid of the wooden pole entirely, leaving only the business end to conduct operations. Then design that section to possess long golden strands which swept across the cobblestone while digging dust out of the hollows and, incidentally, completely concealing the theoretical existence of limbs. Add a small dark section near the center of what's hopefully the front, kick in a pair of nostrils and two dark spots for eyes, then give the entire arrangement the attention span of a sugar-loaded foal in a toy store. The mop kept straining towards every pony who came within three body lengths, trying to get close enough to offer greetings -- but it didn't take very long before it hit the end of the leash and had to come panting back. The panting usually took a few seconds to get going because the leash had been fastened around what, for lack of a better guess, was probably a neck.

And yet it persisted. The mop would try to get its pony's attention, pressing the nose against a foreleg and making little hopeful sounds in a quest for affection. But it was being fully ignored, and so it continued trying to seek approval from those who passed by.

Or it might have been trying to put a little more distance between itself and the smell.

Those with sensitive snouts tended to find them wrinkling in the mare's presence. The earth pony had a rather complex sort of personal scent. The underlayers suggested a rather cautious level of cleanliness, and an utter lack of sweat indicated a possible allergy to the basic labor ethic -- but on the whole, she smelled like the conflicting contents of a poorly-arranged cosmetics sections. It wasn't a particularly harsh or unpleasant scent: it simply suggested that the mare spent a lot of time trotting through perfume aisles filled with ponies wielding tester sprays and wasn't particularly good at dodging.

She wasn't unattractive. But she had a Look, and it was the sort of Look which required WORK. And that was part of why she'd decided to loathe the pegasus.

"...seven!" Even quieter now. "...how did that even happen? Seven..." And another giggle.

The yellow pegasus had exceptionally well-grained fur. (It hadn't been brushed recently, and a few stray brown strands fell away from her flanks with every hoofstep.) The wings were slightly oversized for her body: just enough to notice, even in the folded state. The soft coral manefall covered a significant portion of her face at just about all times, and the earth pony was hoping for some hideous scarring underneath -- but the scant intermittent breeze shifted enough to show that the hidden portion was just as lovely as the rest.

The pegasus possessed a fully-effortless natural beauty. No cosmetics, no structuring, and very little in the way of maintenance. And it was something which held right up until the moment an observer reached that tail.

The most reasonable explanation for the tail was that two more mares of matching hues were standing on the far side of the pegasus. Each would be progressively smaller than the mare before, to the point where a single body could conceal all additional presence -- except for the tails, which overlapped into the illusion of a single unit. Oh, and you could add in a filly to account for the portion which was pretty much dragging along the ground. That seemed sensible. The tail's drape could certainly conceal a filly, along with a good portion of the local Town Hall. But then the pegasus would take another hoofstep, nopony else moved with her, and it was all one tail.

The earth pony had already decided that the display was somehow obscene, and was planning out a few words on the obvious public benefits of docking. Which was to say, the public would benefit from no longer being exposed to the tail. How the pegasus might have felt about the matter really wasn't a consideration.

Her own navy blue tail flicked with annoyance and in doing so, chased off several flies. That was one of the ongoing problems with summer and as such, could probably be blamed on the Weather Bureau as a whole. Flies existed and liked to land on ponies. Some of them bit. Repellents were available, but the odor didn't really cooperate with perfume. The war of Pony Vs. Fly had been going on for the whole of recorded history, and the reason you couldn't read anything before that was because the words had been covered up by stomped-on insects. In the eternal battle of Equine Vs. Bug, ponies had evolved the somewhat effective counter of 'tail'. Flies had a lack of size, speed, that annoying tendency to zigzag ahead of the hit, and what was frequently believed to be some degree of precognition. It was generally agreed that the flies were ahead.

"...seven...!" the pegasus mare gently exclaimed to herself, and smiled. (Or rather, the visible portion of her features did. There was no telling what the rest was up to.) And then she looked around again.

The lone exposed blue-green eye spotted the earth pony. The presence of a stranger registered, and something about the beautiful features seemed to be closing itself off --

-- but then she saw the mop.

The visible eye focused on the leash. Widened. And then the pegasus began to move towards the newcomer: hesitant at first, but then with increasing speed and urgency.

The earth pony was still in the middle of telling herself what to do about it when another mare got in the way.

The young lilac pegasus had greyish undertones to her coat, an utterly unfashionable mane bow, and was leading a healthy-looking black and white young tomcat via a torso-wrapped feline harness. The pair went directly up to the yellow mare, with the cat happily rubbing against freshly-met fur while the new pegasus spoke in low tones of default irritation.

Ponyville's most recent arrival (and soon to be its latest departure) shrugged to herself. Put a number of what she believed to be appropriately-withering comments on hold, flicked her tail again -- two more flies expertly got out of the way -- and turned, resuming her exploration of the town --

-- there was a tiny drag weight making a game attempt to hold back one leg, as the mop eagerly gazed towards the yellow pegasus. Panted, vibrated long strands of golden fur, and strained at the leash. Trying to reach her, until the neck loop threatened to choke.

The earth pony mare made a sound of annoyance. Put a little effort into her trot, and dragged the mop along.

A sad, worried blue-green gaze looked past the lilac intruder, and reluctantly watched them go.

It wasn't a bad bakery: something which had been indicated by the length of the line waiting to get in. The fact that the earth pony had to use said line normally would have been a point against it, but it was her first day in town and nopony knew to let her through yet. Those who still lived in her previous town would have courteously stepped out of the way, because the alternative was to risk having the celadon mare Say Something.

The place was owned by what was obviously a married earth pony couple: the mare could occasionally be spotted through the swinging doors which led to the kitchen, while the stallion really shouldn't have been working the counter. If only one of them had to be in public full-time, then it logically needed to be the one whose jawline hadn't been designed to scare foals. Not that all of them were intelligent enough to be frightened, because the first-time customer could hear distant sounds of infants at play: this seemed to be coming through the ceiling.

There was also a pink mare. Slightly overweight, with a utterly unregulated riot of curls. The newcomer was already planning to inspect all purchases for what she already knew to be trauma-inducing stray hairs, and had tentative plans to follow up her real estate agent visit through finding an attorney. If the pink mare didn't have the common sense to use dual hair nets while serving customers, then perhaps she could be educated through the instructive medium of Lawsuit.

The celadon newcomer waited in the line, which really wasn't moving fast enough. Clockwork fans lazily sliced through thickening summer air, trying to beat it into some form of submission. The mop strained to meet the ponies around her.

"No," the recent arrival told it.

The mop whined.

"No."

There were ponies looking at her now. Of course there were. That was what putting in the work in front of multiple mirrors every morning did. Oh, and some of them were looking at the leash, but she'd chosen a fine color for it and understood giving that portion some attention. As with the mop, the color had been the truly important part.

She took the time to glare at some of the ponies ahead of her. The mare had initially expected that any truly expensive mop would include the ability to take care of itself -- but ponies needed training. Well, they would learn soon enough...

After what was obviously far too much time, she reached the front. The pink mare greeted her with the bright, happy smile of those who had yet to learn their proper place in life.

"Three scones," the newcomer said, and followed that by carefully rejecting everything the mare brought her for being too crumbly. The bakery clearly had some degree of standards, but that didn't change the fact that ponies needed training. The pink baker had to be taught, and the first lesson was that the mare would only accept the best.

A parade of scones came out of the glass display case, found themselves charged with Insufficient Perfection, and were sentenced back into confinement.

The pink baker's smile was starting to look a little thin.

The local carefully reared up on her hind legs. Planted her forehooves on the case, and carefully looked down at the mop.

"I really like your..." She hesitated. Stared down at the mop, visibly weighed the lack of evidence, and finally piled it all up on an invisible altar for sacrifice to The God Of Improbable Answers. "...dog?"

The mop, openly thrilled to be both acknowledged and identified, emitted a happy species-confirming bark.

"No," the celadon pony stated.

The mop softly whined, then sunk a little closer to the bakery floor. Tiny dark pools of eyes miserably closed.

The baker stared down. The far edges of the smile briefly twisted, tried to flip, and then righted themselves.

Curiously, "What's your pet's name?"

"Accessory," the newcomer said.

Another hesitation, and a low murmur began to arise from the ponies who were still waiting in line.

"I'd say that was an unusual name," the pink baker decided, "but just look at what some ponies are trotting around with! I met a pony named Hoity Toity once. Well, I sort of met him. I was wearing a dress and he was looking at it, so maybe he really just met the dress. But he did like the dress, so maybe I'll get a head start if I ever see him again." The smile brightened a little. "Hi, Accessory! Does your pony let you have treats? Because we always try to keep a few things around in case a nice little -- dog -- comes in --"

"-- it's not a name," the new arrival harshly cut the baker off. "It's a description. She is not a pet. She is a fashion accessory. She was chosen to complement my look. Do you go around naming your saddlebags?"

The baker went quiet.

The celadon mare liked that. It showed that the baker was already learning her place -- although the increasing murmur from behind suggested that the crowd had found the sudden silence to be unusual.

The newcomer flicked her tail with annoyance. A unicorn stallion got his snout smacked -- which was his fault for standing too close, of course -- and four flies scattered. One of them got a little too close to the minor spells which protected the display cases and wound up making a break for the door, trailing a thin line of smoke all the way.

She wondered whether the bakeries in the capital started the protections at the entrance. This place was clearly working with a lower budget. Of course, going to Canterlot would raise the quality of so many things in her life, but she could always take the train when she wanted to truly shop. Especially when she needed clothing. She'd passed a dress store earlier, and instantly rejected it without bothering to go inside. After all, what kind of 'quality' dress shop would ever place itself here?

But she was still committed to Ponyville. It was easier to play at being wealthy when you were living in a place which cost less money.

Another scone was offered up. The fresh arrival eventually decided to accept the fifth one after it.

A bakery. When it came to centers of gossip, a bakery was as good as a bar. The overweight pony probably knew a lot of things about the town and its residents. And the new mare had to establish herself...

"I saw this yellow pegasus earlier," the celadon mare casually mentioned. "Female. Coral mane." Artfully paused. "And... tail."

"Did she spot you?" the baker immediately asked. "Because she'll want to meet your --" Another hesitation. "-- well, even... 'accessories' need care." Very carefully, "And love --"

"She was talking to herself," the newcomer added.

"That's odd," the baker conceded. "She usually doesn't do that." With open concern, "Did you happen to hear what she was saying?"

"Something about having gotten seven at once."

"Oh," the baker considered. "Seven what?"

"She didn't say."

"I'll have to check on her," the overweight mare decided. "Thank you for telling --"

"-- I thought it was flies," the celadon mare announced to the world. "Since the whole town is obviously having something of a problem with them right now."

"Summer," the baker sighed. "What can you do? Also, did you happen to see where she was going?"

"But she obviously didn't flick her tail and take out flies."

The baker stopped.

With open caution, "And you think that because...?"

The newcomer didn't think. She knew.

"Because have you seen her tail?" the celadon mare laughed. "If she'd gotten that thing moving, then flies wouldn't exist! The entire species, extincted in one go!" The laughter got louder. The newcomer appreciated a good jest, and she just happened to be the funniest pony she knew. "Which would finally give that thing a purpose, wouldn't it? A reason to exist, at least until the mosquitoes were taken out. And then she could go in for the docking. But she'll never take out any flies, because that would mean having to flick her tail. And that's going to mean lifting it. She can't even get that pointless mass all the way off the ground!"

The sheer volume of murmuring was becoming very annoying.

"I think," the baker very carefully said, "you need to take a few seconds and listen --"

"I should probably apologize to your weather coordinator," the celadon mare snickered. "Partially, anyway."

"Why?" the baker quickly asked.

"This place has a reputation for not being quite on schedule," the newcomer merrily says. "Which is her fault. Everypony says so. But I've heard that there's also a problem with unregulated breezes. And you'd think that was the weather coordinator screwing up again, but it's obviously that other pegasus. Because any time she tries to put that idiotic tail into motion, it's going to kick up a breeze. Maybe even a hurricane!" With a happy laugh, "For the sake of the town, somepony has to stop her before she tries to sway it again!"

The murmuring stopped.

Just about all of the sound had stopped. Ponies weren't talking. Nopony was really moving. The fans turned. Ponies breathed. And the baker's blue eyes slightly, subtly narrowed.

"You're new here," the overweight mare slowly said. "I'd remember."

The fresh arrival favored that with a nod. Bakers did learn to recognize their regulars, at least if they wanted to have any. This one could potentially be trained in a matter of moons. "I just came in this morning," she smiled. "There's a lot of rumors about this being an -- interesting sort of town. With all sorts of things happening." A place which just needed a mare who knew how to look for the angles in such events. Who could start making things work for her, especially when the herd was just so easy to manipulate.

(Everypony who'd recommended that she move here had assured her that it was a very interesting place. Several dozen ponies had been certain about the 'interesting' part. Actual details had been somewhat scant.)

She thought about establishing her own little social realm right under the snout of the Princesses, and her smile got wider.

"Is there something they do around here for new arrivals?" the celadon mare laughed, and then kicked in an extra fully ridiculous joke for the too-silent audience. "I don't suppose you're in the mood to kick me up a welcoming party?"

Something happened.

The curls of the baker's tail twitched. Then they compressed, collapsing in on the dock, tightening as they went. It only took a single breath before there really didn't seem to be a true tail at all. The pink hairs were so tightly wrapped as to leave the impression of a single dangling extension coming off the spine.

At the same time, the ears shifted. The edges curled in on themselves, losing the apex points which were so common among ponies. The end results came far too close to the skull, and featured fully rounded borders.

The newcomer had just enough time to wonder if there was some sort of optical illusion in play before it all sprang back to normal. And then she wasn't sure it had happened at all.

"...no," the baker slowly said. "No. I... don't think I will. There really isn't going to be any need, is there?"

Which was, in some ways, the proper response. Who went around hosting parties for total strangers? It just didn't account for why the ponies behind the fresh arrival were now making the sort of sounds which implied they'd just seen a manticore rising up from behind the croissants.

The baker planted her forehooves a little more firmly atop the case, then looked down again. Beamed. "But I know I'm going to be seeing you around, Accessory! When things are better." The elevated shoulders tossed off a casual shrug. "So. Is this scone okay, or...?"

The scones were actually quite pleasant, although the fresh arrival couldn't just say so. In her fully-expert opinion, ponies were best trained through negative reinforcement. Enjoying her meal by one of the town's fountains allowed her to be reminded that you could say the same thing about living accessories. The mobile mop was meant to be brushed, cleaned, expertly groomed, and shown off. Things like 'allowing random ponies to make cooing sounds at her' and 'petting that golden fur after I spent an hour in styling it' were clearly right out. She didn't know what the one colt who'd wanted to play fetch had been thinking, and quickly concluded that he hadn't been thinking at all.

The accessory repeatedly strained to reach those who paid attention, and that was annoying. Proper color coordination required proximity. Also, the soft sounds of canine choking were rapidly becoming irritating. Why did there have to be so many ponies passing by, and why was her accessory eager to meet them all? You had to meet the right ponies, whoever those were around here.

Maybe that even included the mysterious so-called 'Bearers' -- but the new arrival suspected there really wasn't much point to that. What little she'd heard about them suggested a level of incompetence which didn't so much border on the total as jump the boundary and establish the new nation of Stupid on the other side. It had supposedly taken a thousand years for Princess Luna to come back. What kind of heroes needed a millennium to rescue somepony?

Her tail idly flicked. Flies were known to skim over the surface of water. Others had perched on the stone, but they were mostly around the sides.

More ponies went by the fountain. The accessory kept trying to meet them, and briefly lost oxygen accordingly. The celadon mare initially considered the punishment to fit the crime -- but then decided to add a little more discipline once they got back to the hotel. Some negativity was best inflicted in private.

Then there were still more ponies going by.

They... were moving rather quickly. Some were outright galloping, while pegasi pushed their wings to the point where froth flew from feathers.

The new arrival frowned. She'd looked at the train station's notice board after disembarking. She was sure there hadn't been anything about a race.

Then the screaming began.

And before she could move from the fountain's rim, the bears came into view.

For those who hadn't fled the area -- which meant the celadon mare -- educational opportunities abounded. And with the newcomer fully paralyzed by fear, unable to shift away from the fountain's rim... class was officially in session.

For starters, there was the leg motion. Ponies moved their legs in pairs: for a typical trot, that was left fore and right hind, then right fore and left hind. Diagonal connections. Bears mercilessly advanced through shifting the left-side pair, then the right. Repeat as necessary until everything in the area dies.

Then you had the anatomy. She hadn't been aware that bear tails basically existed as dangling extensions of the spine, with very little fur across the short length. There had certainly been no opportunity in her life to see how rounded the ears were. However, if you were in the vicinity of the ears, then you were altogether too close to the mouth. And the teeth. The growling had presumably started somewhere behind the teeth, and emerged with something close to a collective harmony.

It could be said that they weren't all that large, because the vast majority of ponies weren't very big and these bears were only somewhat past that size. They were bears which had recently exited the cub stage, and that felt like a bad thing. Because tiny bear cubs tumbled and mock-growled and played with each other in a manner which, much like kittens, could only be described as utterly adorable.

And then they got older.

And, exactly like kittens, you realized that animals played as a way of training themselves for adult life, and every last tenth-bit of cuteness had produced by a predator who'd been figuring out how to hunt.

Her accessory was straining at the end of the leash, and the little choking sounds were being interrupted by -- growls. It was... trying to defend the mare. Challenging the bears.

When they got back to the hotel, there was going to be a lot of discipline. She disciplined her accessory whenever it barked, because fashion had to be seen and not heard. A living mophead which weighed in at about a tenth of a bale was openly defying nine bears.

And in doing so, had succeeded in nothing more than offering a sonic indicator of where the prey was.

The bears collectively turned. Mostly-brown fur shook itself out. And then they advanced.

She couldn't move.
She couldn't move.
She couldn't --

-- and the yellow pegasus landed between the newcomer and the ursines, as a coral mane flipped backwards and two blue-green eyes fiercely focused on imminent death.

"...no," the pegasus softly said.

Seven of the bears spontaneously sat down in the middle of the street. Thin tails awkwardly jammed against cobblestone. And they didn't move.

It didn't make sense. They had the numbers. The strength. The teeth. The pegasus was nothing. Even a full whip of the ridiculous tail across an ursine snout would do no more than lightly bruise. All they had to do for their victory was -- anything. But seven of them now had hindquarters glued to rock.

Unfortunately, there had been nine.

The remaining two took a paired step forward. Growling.

The pegasus growled right back.

It was a rather understated sort of growl. For starters, it was being produced by a pony throat, and that meant the harmonics were off. There was also something of a built-in hesitation in the opening notes, and the way the pegasus was adjusting her body posture to be a little more bearlike probably wasn't helping. But it had still been a growl.

Two bears paused.

Blue-green eyes narrowed.

And then there was nine bears sitting in the street.

"...really?" the pegasus softly inquired. "That's what you all decided? I dealt with seven of you, so the number had to be higher? A double-full sleuth already, and it had to go get reinforcements..."

The first seven bears to sit were now lightly vibrating in place. Brown strands of fur drifted to the street.

"...oh," the pegasus carefully added, and those words seemed to drift backwards, cutting through the accessory's growling and making the mop fall oddly silent. "A group of three or more bears is called a sleuth. Most ponies don't know that. But they don't really need to."

The paralyzed mare tried to speak. To criticize. To say something about the tail, because it was right there. Nothing came out.

"...I told you," the pegasus quietly resumed, addressing the bears again as a relative lack of decibels somehow seemed to fill the entire town. "I know you're just starting to grow up. Striking out on your own, seeing what you can do. But you don't get to do it here. I turned you around this morning, when I spotted you near the cottage -- but like so many adolescents, any lesson only sticks for as long as I'm looking at you, is that it?"

There were still six bears shaking. But one of them tried to stand up --

"I'm still looking."

-- and sat down again.

"...I could bring in Harry," the pegasus lightly suggested. "If you want to speak with an adult. Someone with a little more experience in -- other forms of discipline..."

The ursine tremble count instantly reached nine.

"...but we can leave him out of it, because it's probably easier for all of you if it's just me. Bringing in someone else isn't necessary, now is it?" she softly asked. "Because I can see you. All of you, all nine when it was seven before this and bringing it to nine still isn't doing anything for the sleuth. There's no weight of numbers here, no way the sleuth can solve the mystery of what they can do in town. Because you're going to leave Ponyville. You won't come back. And I didn't give you the full treatment the first time, because I thought you might learn. But you went for reinforcements. So... since you're all here, right in front of me..."

It was hard to tell exactly what she did next, especially from a slightly-angled rear view. As far as the fresh arrival could tell, the pegasus narrowed her eyes. And that was all.

There were many interesting facts which could be potentially be learned about bears. For starters, some of them were capable of running at speeds which just about matched that of a pony. Not for long, but... it meant that a unicorn or earth pony who decided to solve a bear problem by running away from it would need to reach that solution rather quickly. And not look back towards the crashing sounds, because there was a good chance something would be gaining on them. If the need was there, a bear could move at a surprising pace.

Nine adolescent ursines collectively fleeing for their lives were effectively their own Games team, and quickly brought home first place. Or rather, decided to bring first place home. With 'home' being 'wherever the yellow pegasus isn't'.

Eventually, the sounds of desperate retreat faded away.

The yellow pegasus slowly nodded.

"...nine," she said to herself in quiet amazement, and then giggled. "Nine at the same time..."

Then there was a more abrupt head motion, and half of the mane flipped forward to cover the left side of her face. One more little nod, and then --

-- she turned.

She was looking directly at the fresh arrival, or at least the one visible eye was. At the accessory.

"...are both of you okay?"

The mop made a happy sort of sound. The celadon mare's tongue wasn't responding.

"...I saw you earlier," the pegasus said as those yellow legs slowly, steadily advanced towards fountain and mare. "I wanted to speak with you." Hesitated. "Um. Both of you again. But right now --" a little head tilt towards the mop "-- mostly your pony." Another pause, and then she resumed the inexorable crossing of insufficiently-protective distance. "It's about the leash. That's the worst kind you could ever put on a dog. It's -- choking her. She could even wind up with spinal damage." Gently, "But maybe this is your first companion, and you didn't know how to pick out a harness. Um. If you're not busy, I could go with you to the pet supply store and --"

The mare's mouth refused to work.
Vocal chords locked up.
A mind which had a primary skill of telling itself what the world was supposed to be... didn't appear to have an opinion.
The legs made the most sensible decision of the mare's life and took over.

She stood up.

The left front limb spontaneously shook, and kept shaking until the pony end of the leash dropped away. When fleeing from a madhouse, it was crucial to not have a tiny drag weight holding back one leg.

And then the yellow pegasus was staring after a hard-flicking, navy blue tail as its owner sped down the street at full gallop. Running towards the hotel and, shortly after that, the train. Never to return.

Fluttershy blinked.

"...oh," she softly said. "Um..."

The mop risked a little bark. This was followed by curling up against itself, as if it was waiting to be told 'No.'

"...it's okay," Fluttershy smiled. "It's almost always okay if you want to talk. Unless I'm really tired, and then it's a good time to play Shhhh." Her right forehoof gently stroked long golden fur. "I'm going to call you... Ms. Moppet. Because your pony didn't tell me your name. Um." Awkwardly, "If you still... have a pony. But we'll go look for her together. And if she -- left, then I'll find you a new home." With a tiny sigh, "Leaving a companion behind. Really?" And that was followed by an aggravated shake of her head: one which threatened to expose both eyes again. "Maybe she doesn't even deserve you. But I'll at least give her a chance to explain. And if that doesn't happen, you can come to the cottage. I swear, Ms. Moppet, some of these scaredy-ponies --"

There was a buzzing sound.

Two insects landed on the yellow back.

"-- flies! Somepony get them off me!" The tail went into a mighty lash: the insects, who were making themselves comfortable around the center of Fluttershy's spine, didn't deign to notice. Flies generally didn't. "Get some water! A swatter! Find Snails and tell him to tell them to stop! Flies, flies, somepony help me, there's more of them over the water and they're all going to come for me and it's flies...!"

Her tail kept lashing. And at one point, it connected with the side of the fountain, taking out seven insects with a single blow.

Not that she ever noticed.