Fluttershy had been battling her inner turmoil for days now. The taste of meat—foreign, disturbing—still lingered on her tongue despite the satisfaction it brought her hunger. Each bite filled her stomach, yet it left a deep pit of disgust inside her that nothing could fill. Every time she stepped hoof into her cottage or wandered among her friends, the secret festered like a thorn buried too deep to pull out. The memory of the rabbit she had mutilated haunted her, a grotesque reminder of what she had become. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her friends, not after what she had done—let alone what she had been doing. It felt too twisted, too unnatural. If they knew, they would never look at her the same way again. The very idea of explaining her situation left her paralyzed with fear.

How could she ever explain it? The very idea of consuming meat, let alone taking the life of a creature she had once protected, felt too alien to admit to anyone. She wanted nothing more than to ask for help, to lean on her friends like she always had, but this… this was too vile. She was stuck in a mire of self-disgust, wallowing in the horror of what had become of her.

To try and keep her mind occupied, she had turned her attention toward Discord. His “illness”—though, in truth, Fluttershy was no fool; she knew it wasn’t a normal sickness—had offered her a convenient excuse to distract herself. The moment he had lost his magic after using it to reverse the chaos across Equestria, he had come up with the flimsy lie that he was merely sick with some unheard of draconequus illness. He was keeping up the charade, and Fluttershy was more than willing to play along. Caring for him gave her some purpose. It kept her mind occupied, if only for a few hours a day.

She had already checked his temperature twice that afternoon, though it hadn’t fluctuated even a degree since yesterday. Now she hovered beside him, fussing with a teapot as she poured steaming liquid into his cup. Her movements were delicate, her focus absolute, as if the task itself could blot out the torment gnawing at the corners of her mind. Discord sat on the edge of the couch, one mismatched foot crossed over the other as he watched her with a mixture of amusement and concern. Even without his magic, he remained the picture of confidence—though his sharp eyes didn’t miss the tension that had been radiating from her.

“You’re wound tighter than one of those ridiculous wind-up toys,” he remarked, his usually tone of playful banter softened by something a little more serious, masked behind a smile. “I’m starting to worry you might just... pop!”

Fluttershy stiffened at his comment, her hold tightening momentarily on the teapot. She had hoped her frantic care-taking would distract him—keep him focused on himself rather than noticing her own problems. She forced a small smile. “I’m just worried about you, Discord.” She said, her voice gentle but strained. “And the animals have kept me so busy lately. That’s all.”

Discord cocked an eyebrow, taking a sip from the cup she handed him. “Busy avoiding me, more like,” he quipped, though there was a sharp edge behind his playful tone. “For someone who claims to be so worried about my health, you’ve been acting awfully... distant.” His eyes lingered on her longer than usual, watching the way her wings tensed against her, the way she seemed to shrink beneath his gaze.

The teapot shook slightly in her hooves as she set it down on the table. “I’ve just… had a lot on my plate,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze. “There’s more to my life than just… you, Discord.”

The words left her mouth faster than she intended, sharper than she realized. She immediately regretted them as soon as they hung in the air between them, tense and awkward. Discord’s expression shifted, his playful smirk fading as a slight edge crept into his voice. “It’s obvious something is wrong,” he pressed, the teasing gone, replaced by something far more sincere. “I know I’m not exactly an expert on friendship, but I thought confiding in each other was part of the deal, especially between us.” His tone softened briefly, but there was a sting of accusation in his words. “Or… maybe I was mistaken. Maybe you don’t want me around at all.”

The statement hit Fluttershy like a physical blow, and for a moment, she stood frozen, her wings twitching at her sides. It wasn’t true—she cared about Discord deeply, but the weight of her secret crushed any chance of explaining herself. His constant prying, his insistence on pulling her deeper into a conversation she wasn’t ready to have—it pushed her over the edge.

“Stop it, Discord!” She shouted, her normally soft voice cracking with frustration. “Just stop!” The words burst from her before she could even think, her hoof slamming against the floor with enough force to send a shudder through the quiet room. The sharpness of her voice cut through the air like a knife, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake.

As soon as the words escaped her, Fluttershy’s eyes widened in horror. She pressed her hoof to her mouth, her breath quick, and panicked. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with guilt. She couldn’t bear to look at Discord; she couldn’t face the hurt she knew was now etched across his features. Before he could respond, she turned and fled from the cottage, leaving Discord sitting on the couch. His paw hovered above his chest, fingers curling slightly as if to try and grasp the invisible tension.

The air in the cottage felt thicker without her presence. Discord sat there, stunned, blinking in disbelief. Of all the ponies in Equestria, Fluttershy was the last he’d expect to snap at him like that. The tension between them had been palpable for days, but this… this was something different. She was hiding something—something big—and she didn’t trust him enough to share it. The realization stung more than he’d care to admit.

He glanced toward the door, a frown tugging at his lips. “Well, that was... something,” he muttered under his breath, slumping back against the couch as his mind raced. Maybe it wasn’t his place to push her, but the silence between them was becoming unbearable. If she didn’t want him to be part of whatever she was struggling with, maybe she didn’t need him at all.

But as the moments passed, the hurt softened, replaced by a quiet determination. He might not know what was wrong, but he wasn't about to give up on her. Even if she wouldn’t confide in him, he could still watch out for her. He could still be there when she needed him, whether she admitted it or not.

For now, though, all he could do was wait.

Fluttershy’s heart pounded as she rushed through the garden and toward the animal sanctuary. The cool breeze rustled the leaves in the trees overhead, but even the soothing sounds of nature couldn’t quiet the storm of guilt swirling in her chest. How could she have snapped at Discord like that? Her hoofbeats echoed in her ears, the thud of each step a reminder of the outburst she never should have allowed. Her chest felt tight, the weight of her actions pressing down with every breath.

Stopping by the edge of the stream, she crouched down and took a shuddering breath, staring at her reflection in the water. Her eyes were wide, glistening with the unshed tears of self-loathing, her mane disheveled from her hasty retreat. The gentle babble of the water usually brought her peace, but today, all it did was magnify the noise in her head. She had very rarely raised her voice like that, least of all to Discord. It was like something inside her had snapped—something she could no longer control. She clenched her jaw, shaking her head.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispered to herself, her voice breaking as the words slipped into the breeze. Her wings hung limply at her sides, the tension from earlier now replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. She could see his face and the hurt in his eyes when she had lashed out. He didn’t deserve that. She should’ve handled it better, should’ve been able to push down whatever was eating away at her. But no, she’d failed him—and herself. She splashed a hoof into the water, as if punishing her reflection would somehow make the situation better. “What’s happening to me?”

Her stomach growled in response. She could feel it even now, crawling under her skin, taunting her. She knew that was the real reason she had snapped. The hunger. It was always there, twisting her insides, clouding her thoughts. And no matter how much she hated herself for it, her body craved more. But that didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it made it worse. She was losing control—not just of her actions, but of who she was.

“That’s no excuse…” she murmured as she pushed herself up from the stream. Whether she was hungry or not, it didn’t justify how she had treated Discord. He had been nothing but concerned for her, and she had lashed out at him as though he were the problem. What kind of monster yells at their best friend because they haven’t eaten?

Fluttershy swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. Maybe she could stop this spiral if she just… ate something. Something small, just enough to clear her head, to stop this hunger from consuming her completely. She tore her eyes away from the water and began walking toward the food storage shed. The sanctuary loomed ahead, its peaceful surroundings in stark contrast to the turmoil twisting inside her. Deep in thought, she barely noticed the soft crunch of approaching hoofsteps.

“Fluttershy!”

The sudden voice jolted her from her thoughts. Her heart leaped in her chest, and she nearly stumbled as Dr. Fauna appeared from seemingly nowhere. Fluttershy blinked, momentarily disoriented by the veterinarian’s presence. She had completely forgotten about the scheduled check-up.

“Oh!” Fluttershy gasped, her wings flaring out in surprise. “I, um, wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

Dr. Fauna smiled warmly. “It’s alright, Fluttershy! I’ve just been making my rounds with the animals, making sure everything’s in order.” Her tone was casual, but Fluttershy felt her gaze lingering, studying her too closely for comfort. “You seem a little frazzled today. Is everything alright?”

“Oh… of course! I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy lately, I must’ve lost track of time.” Her voice sounded unnaturally chipper, even to her own ears, and she could feel the smile on her face straining at the edges.

Dr. Fauna nodded. “I understand. Things can get hectic around here, can’t they?” She laughed, launching into a cheerful recount of her work so far. “But everything’s looking great! The birds are healthy, the deer are in good spirits, and I gave the raccoons their checkups already. I’m thinking I’ll do the rabbits next…” She continued listing off tasks, but Fluttershy could only half-listen, her mind still reeling from the confrontation with Discord and the pull of her hunger eating away at her.

“And speaking of checkups,” Dr. Fauna added, her tone shifting slightly, “I noticed something odd when I was going over the food inventory earlier.”

Fluttershy’s stomach dropped, a cold chill sweeping through her. “What… what do you mean?”

Dr. Fauna furrowed her brow. “The meat supply for the carnivores is running lower than I expected. I haven’t seen an influx of new carnivores around here, though, so I found it a bit strange. Have we gotten more animals I haven’t met yet?”

Fluttershy’s mouth went dry. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. Dr. Fauna’s question felt like a trap—innocent on the surface, but digging deeper than Fluttershy was prepared for. She scrambled for an explanation, but her mind was blank, weighed down by the guilt and the fog of hunger clouding her thoughts.

Fluttershy’s wings stiffened at her sides, panic bubbling as she tried to choke out an explanation. “Oh! Uh, no, no new animals,” she said, trying to sound casual, though her voice cracked. “Maybe… maybe it’s just an accounting error or, um, some animals sneaking extra helpings when we’re not looking.” She forced a laugh, the sound thin and hollow. “You know how sneaky they can be!”

Dr. Fauna narrowed her eyes slightly, her skepticism deepening. “I suppose that’s possible, but I’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on the stock. There’s been a noticeable drop in the meat supply, but I haven’t seen anything that would explain it.” Her gaze sharpened, a hint of curiosity creeping into her voice. “Have you noticed anything unusual?”

Fluttershy’s mind went blank. She could feel herself unraveling under Dr. Fauna’s scrutiny, every excuse she tried to think of slipping through her grasp like water. She was failing, horribly. Dr. Fauna was perceptive, too perceptive, and Fluttershy was frozen with the fear that her secret was about to be laid bare.

“I-I’m sure it’s nothing!” Fluttershy blurted, a little too quickly. She took a step back, putting a bit more distance between them. “I’ll keep an eye on it, though. I’m sure it’s just a mix-up. Really, you should just focus on the animals. Everything is fine.”

Dr. Fauna paused, her eyes lingering on Fluttershy’s face for a moment longer than was comfortable before giving a small nod. “Alright, if you say so,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’ll get back to the rounds, then. Let me know if anything comes up.”

Fluttershy nodded stiffly, frozen in place as Dr. Fauna turned and walked off, leaving her standing there in a cold sweat. As soon as the veterinarian was out of sight, Fluttershy’s legs gave out, and she sank to the ground, breathing hard. It had only taken a few minutes for Dr. Fauna to notice something off. And it was only a matter of time before she—or someone else—put the pieces together.

She couldn’t let that happen. No one could find out what she was doing.

Fluttershy stared at the doors of the shed, the aching hunger pulling her inside, but the weight of the encounter with Dr. Fauna left her rooted in place. She couldn’t eat—not now. Not after this. She needed to control herself. She couldn’t afford to make another mistake.

Swallowing hard, she turned away from the shed and began to walk in the opposite direction, her legs still shaking. Returning to the cottage after what had happened with Discord felt impossible, so instead, she set her sights on town. Maybe if she saw her friends, she could distract herself—pretend, if only for a little while, that everything was normal. That she was still normal.

Author's Note

Sorry this took so long, i had written something completely different and hated it.