Chapters Author's Note
This is the first fanfic I've written that I actually feel good about, it's heavily inspired by Secret of The Everfree , I really liked the idea and decided to write my own take on its premise, it should be noted that this does not take place in the same cannon as its inspiration. Like the base material, this happens right after "A Heath of Information". Shoutout to my wonderful boyfriend, Affel, for beta reading and editing for me.
Village
Finally healthy enough to get out of her cottage after recovering from swamp fever, Fluttershy was packing a saddlebag early one morning: a few sandwiches, water, a torch to help ward off timber wolves, and finally, the most important item, a vial of flash bee honey. Ever since the return of Nightmare Moon, she thought those trees in the Everfree Forest seemed off, a bit too much like actual aghast faces. Up until now she had chalked it up to Nightmare Moon’s magic, but now that she’d heard of the horrifying disease known as swamp fever, a disease she’d only recently recovered from, she could no longer deny the dreadful gut feeling she had about that part of the forest.
“Don’t worry Angel, I’ll be back by sundown”, she said, placing a bowl of green veggies in front of the white bunny. “I’m sure you’ll be okay on your own until then”. Angel was already eating, but there was a falter in Fluttershy’s voice, one that Angel may have picked up on had he been paying attention to anything besides food and the day of having the cottage to himself that lay before him. The yellow equine breathed out a sigh; there was a time where she was nervous about leaving that little bunny home alone, one that was behind her now, a time when she lacked courage.
It was an odd thing really, Fluttershy thought to herself as she walked, making her way through the more familiar parts of the Everfree Forest. You wouldn’t expect bearing the element of kindness to require much courage, but it did. In all honesty, it could be argued that kindness took the most courage, courage to make the bitter decision for the sake of another, to do what’s best for them, even if they don’t realize it themselves. Not that Fluttershy would ever brag about being the bravest or anything like that, that was Rainbow Dash’s job, it’s just that she was willing to do the kindest thing she could, even if it hurt.
She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of birds. Birds rarely nested in the Everfree, but they did fly overhead, and the little pony enjoyed their song regardless, the sounds of nature putting her at ease. And such a pleasant song set a lovely scene for a brief lunch break, one where the pony took note of how far she’d ventured, which direction she’d come from, and where she was going, all to avoid getting lost in these vast woods. Celestia’s sun was high in the sky, noon, she’d been hiking out here for a few hours. West, yea, that was the way back home, and a slight southwest detour would lead to Zecora’s. As she stowed her leftover half of a daffodil and daisy sandwich, she prepared herself for the remainder of her journey. The first ghastly tree was ahead, so she was almost there.
She hiked through the path she and the other Elements of Harmony had taken through that patch of trees, but instead of heading straight through it to get to the Castle of the Two Sisters, she took another path, one that split off and led deeper into the dark and dreary forest. Finding a particularly sharp rock, the winged pony began leaving marks on trees as she passed, avoiding the ones with faces, though this got harder the further she went down this path. And as trees became more and more plentiful, she was soon surrounded. Not only that, but she soon noticed a few that were more pony-shaped. A pit of anxiety crept up in her stomach, her suspicions all but confirmed: the trees further out had seemed to capture a base emotion, a scream of terror, or a death mewl as the disease, swamp fever, took the victim, but these few were much more obvious. Furthermore, she soon found an old, destroyed village, trees sprouting from nearly every ruined house.
Anxiety built up and peaked in a pit of dread that only got deeper in her stomach as she ventured into this ruined village at the heart of the Everfree. Eventually she found the center of the village, a giant, dead oak tree, one that must have been ancient while it still lived. The base of the tree had been hollowed out, and an archway made of the massive roots seemed to be the intended entrance. A sign hung overhead, and Fluttershy knew enough Old Ponish from studying Mage Meadowbrook's texts to piece together what it read: “The Forever Free Village, Central Hall”. Walking past the looming natural archway, Fluttershy made her way into the large central hall of a tree, taking note of the dry crunch of twigs and leaves beneath her hooves. The wood of this tree was dry, drier than the rest of the forest. She considered building a campfire in here if she ended up having to spend the night. The hollow trunk offered plenty of ventilation for the smoke, and it would provide ample shelter. But noting how dry the ancient oak’s wood was, she decided against it in case the fire began to spread out of control.
Within the village center were many, many more trees, some of them far too small to be from an adult pony. Fluttershy ran a hoof over the trunk of the small plant. Unlike the foal it had once been, it would grow no larger; it had probably reached its full size a millennia ago. Were they a filly or a colt, before this horrifying illness took them? Did they suffer? There was no way of knowing, and all she could do was continue her investigation with a vague, gnawing sadness in her gut.
Fluttershy continued investigating the long dead village and caught a passing glimpse of a partially-open book sticking out of a tree, bound in faux leather. This one was large, certainly an adult, and it seemed to bulge out around the center of the trunk. She worked the book free of the wood it was embedded in; a hoof full of the pages caught on three’s branches, and she winced at the damage. The journal was still mostly intact, clearly magically preserved from decay.
"Ginger Faelyn", the journal was signed on the cover. The pegasus stowed the journal in her saddle bag. A quick skim of its contents revealed she would need an old ponish dictionary to properly translate this, once she was home, and not surrounded by the most dangerous forest in Equestria. For now she would continue to investigate her surroundings. There were few clues to who the ponies of this village were on the other trees, mostly the occasional remains of a foal’s toy, or metal tools that resisted the test of time, but she persisted until a peculiar shape caught her attention: a nearly perfect preservation of an earth pony that appeared to be frozen in the trunk of one of the trees. As she examined the wooden pony, she noticed something that chilled her to the core. In the lignified face of the equine was an eyeball, not made of wood, but of flesh, embedded in the wood as if it were a bone socket. Unease spread through the little pony’s body as she examined the eye. Were they... dead? And if not, could the pony that it once was be cured? Be returned to their former state prior to infection? Fluttershy turned her gaze to her saddlebag for a moment, shakily trying to retrieve the vial of flash bee honey, but as she looked back up, an icy dagger of fear stabbed her through the heart. She dropped the vial of honey and it shattered against the roots beneath, spreading the sticky golden cure over the twisting network of wood that dug into the ground, and without another thought, Fluttershy turned and ran, she ran back the way she came, never had she been so horrified to be proven, beyond the shadow of a doubt, to be correct.
When she had looked back up, the eyeball had moved to look right back at her.
“My husband Leif and I seek to uncover the treasures this marsh holds, rare herbs and fungi for crafting new salves and potions. As the only healers in this humble place, perhaps we may even earn renown as the shire thrives. Though we are not wealthy in coin, even weighed against other earth ponies, it seems our dream may dawn into truth. I can but hope that weal remains with us, that one day we might have a colt or filly whom we may give the life I have long wished for. Fatherhood is also Leif's dearest wish, and though the work of parenting may be trying, I believe his gentle spirit and steady kindness will make him as good a father as this village may ever see.”
from Ginger Faelyn’s Apothecary log, day one of the founding of The Forever Free Village
Fluttershy woke with a start to the sound of impatient, rapid thumping. She groaned and yawned, as she looked down at the source of the noise. Angel sat on the desk in front of her, looking rather peeved while holding a bowl. It wasn’t until dawn broke that Fluttershy had actually ended up falling asleep at her desk. Since the moment she burst through the front door of her cottage in the dead of night, she was working feverishly to translate the journal she found. “Ah, I’m sorry Angel”, Fluttershy said as she stretched her wings and forelegs. What time was it? She looked out the window, and saw the sun was already well on its way through the afternoon sky. “Oh my...”, Fluttershy hopped up, splashing her face with water and promptly filling Angel’s bowl with rabbit food. Angel could tell something was up with his owner, or else he might’ve been a bit more annoyed with her for giving him his breakfast at three in the afternoon.
After a brief walk around the garden to feed the rest of her animals, Fluttershy sat back down in front of the old journal and Old Ponish dictionary. Breathing a small sigh, she read over what she had managed to translate before passing out. She was almost half done. It wouldn’t take much longer to finish with a rested mind.
The sun was nearly setting once she was finished—not just with translation, but with preparing vials of flash bee honey for what she intended to do. She peered out at the forest. The sky was a pleasant orange, a stark contrast to the blanket of darkness that was starting to cover the Everfree, a blanket that would only get heavier as night approached. She didn’t want to risk going out, knowing full well that she probably wouldn’t make it back until well after nightfall. But every time she tried to convince herself to wait until the next day, she thought about the eye, peering back at her, as if she was the first pony it had seen in millennia. She, the element of kindness, had abandoned them, all because she lacked courage. And now every moment she waited was another moment of torment for those poor ponies of the village.
So, she gathered her things, packing another set of saddlebags. This time she also packed a lantern and oil instead of a torch. With that, she was ready, and with only a brief moment of hesitation, she headed back out into the forest.
"The past two weeks have proven more bountiful than we could have hoped, for we have already begun to craft many varied formulas for alchemical solutions and remedies. The natural resources here have surpassed all expectations. However, we have encountered some hostile aspects of the environment, many of which are magical in nature. One such example is a small blue-leafed plant that grows in large patches. I believe this to be the chaotic herb spoken of in the western lands where zebras roam, known for producing unpredictable effects. We also had a peculiar patient visit us on Monday; he bore red spots upon his body and suffered from a fever. Diseases that cause fever are common, especially in marshlands like the one we chose to settle in, so any apothecary of worth should possess a remedy for such fevers. A basic mixture of honey, garlic, and a blend of mugwort and balsam brewed into tea is what we prescribed for him. We instructed him to return should his fever persist, and, fortunately, he has not."
from Ginger Faelyn’s Apothecary log, week two of the founding of The Forever Free Village.
Fluttershy overestimated her ability to navigate the forest, and it was dark before she managed to get back to the ruined village. She lit her lantern as she crept back through the settlement consumed by the woods around it. The stillness was unnerving, the only hint of life was the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath her hooves. Shadows dancing in the corners of her vision as the small flame of her lantern flickered. She stopped as she reached the large oak that was once the Village Center. The towering corpse of the arbor titan was a fitting heart for the village, one that stopped beating long ago. Fluttershy entered the tree, her lantern doing much less to illuminate the interior than the setting sun had the day prior.
She decided to start by finding the pony with the intact eyeball. She had to reassure them everything was going to be all right. Minutes passed as she looked, it had to be here somewhere. The darkness made it difficult to pick out small details… maybe she was misremembering how distinctly pony-shaped it was? Eventually she relented. She had a job to do here, and running around in circles in the dark was doing her no good.
She stumbled across the tree that she got the journal from, easily recognizable by the large bulge in the trunk and torn pages that still clung to the branches. Flipping through a small Old Ponish phrasebook she'd made, she said,"Ic wille þē helpan", in as gentle and reassuring a voice as she could. As she spoke, she began to lather the honey over the rough bark of the tree, making sure to make a small cut in the rigid tree flesh and slip a bit of the cure inside, just in case.
Fluttershy repeated the process on as many of the trees that she could find, lathering a thin coating of the amber goo over the once infected ponies. Her fear began to fade into the background as she worked her way to every wooden once-pony. It wasn't so much that she was fearless, more that her fear took a back seat to her goal. She needed to do this, and she wouldn’t let herself be afraid, not of the eerie silence, nor the flickering flame and dancing shadows that set her imagination into overdrive. Not even the shadow lumbering around just outside the mouth of the Village Center would be enough to–
She snapped her head up without even completing the thought, squinting at the darkness outside. The little yellow mare quickly finished administering the honeyed cure to the tree she was working on. Picking up her lantern with her wing, she slowly crept back outside.
“Hello?”, she called out meekly, “is... is somepony there?”. There was no response.
She started to make her way back through the village. Maybe it was a timber wolf? That was the only wildlife that frequented the Everfree forest, and the figure had almost resembled one, though with the brief look she got at it, it could have just as easily been the shadows combined with her imagination, twisting the view of the forest into something diabolical. The more she thought about it, the more silly it made her feel, especially considering if it were a timber wolf, she certainly would’ve been able to smell its stench coming.
Breathing a small sigh of relief, she decided to continue spreading the cure to the ponies in the devastated houses. The houses were just as decayed and still inside as the dead oak at the center, each house filled with nothing but dead leaves and the lignified remains of its occupant. Reaching the end of the first row of houses, she found a large hut with a prominent sign out front that read "Wyrtwyrhta ". Given Fluttershy’s research the night prior, the translation was obvious: “Apothecary”. The door was broken down, as were most of the doors in the village, and the little pony slowly stepped inside.
"I woke on Sunday morning feeling sick, and I threw up soon after. Though it passed, I have been unwell ever since, oddly weary, needing a rest at least once each day this week. Perhaps I am working too much. There is so much to do, and Leif cannot help me, for he is busy guarding for wood wolves with the other stallions most days. A few more patients came in with red spots and a fever, and two of them were also coughing up bubbles—not frothy sputum, but large, free-floating things, such as might be made by mixing water with pure soap. I have never seen the like. I regret that the pressing need of the situation left me with no time to follow up with the first patient, because it is now clear that this new sickness is a highly catching one. I brought word of this spreading rot to the village seat, where I bid that we set the unwell villagers apart from the rest until I could find a way to treat the illness. But they did not heed my word."
from Ginger Faelyn’s Apothecary log, week two of the founding of The Forever Free Village.
The floor was dirt, just like all the others in the village, but this place had much more going on. Tables remained intact—no doubt the wood was treated with magic—and the light of the lantern gleamed in reflection on glass beakers and test tubes that littered the tables. The equipment was professional; it didn’t take an archeology cutie mark to make that clear. Whoever lived here wasn’t some snake oil salespony. There were tomes on healing magic, and tomes showcasing formulas to extract the natural healing essence of herbs and bolster them through druidic alchemy. One page in particular caught her attention.There wasn't any clear recipe there, but the page was labeled “Fenn-Adl Læcedom", which her mind quickly translated to “Swamp Fever Remedy”. Her eyes scanned over the words more carefully.
Unfortunately, it was a mess. A hodgepodge of ingredients covered the page, some scribbled out, some with arrows connecting them to others, and some marked with shorthand symbols that Fluttershy couldn't even recognize. But with her limited potion-making knowledge, she could identify the basic elements of a modern magical curative potion—a modern potion, something that should have been well beyond the knowledge of a pony who had lived so long ago. The alchemical balance of the ingredients was also uncannily similar to the composition of flash bee honey. She would have to show this page to Zecora to be sure, but it seemed possible that the research on this page could have been turned into a working cure, given just a little more time.
A rustle of leaves behind Fluttershy caused her to jolt up and peer around behind her. She squinted at an unilluminated hallway behind her, picking up her lantern. “H... Hello?” She cautiously headed into the hall, her lantern’s light dispelling the darkness as she ventured into the unknown. A sudden shift in the shadows just beyond her lantern’s range in front of her caused her to jump, “Is some creature there? I’m a friend, no need to be afrai-”. “Giiii...” Fluttershy froze as she got a verbal response, a low and breathy voice that echoed a single syllable down the hall. A pit formed in her stomach, but scraping together the courage she needed, she stepped forward with her lantern.
“More ponies have been falling ill with the mysterious sickness marked by fever, red spots, and coughing up bubbles. I have chosen to name this new disease 'Swamp Fever'. So far, it does not seem overly dire, though it appears to be highly catching. Its resistance to usual treatments hints at a magical nature, as does its long life, for not a single pony who has caught it has healed. This nature is suggested yet more strongly by two new signs that have also arisen: bolts of lightning that come out with sneezes, and deep brown rashes that almost look like tree bark. Leif has been working himself to exhaustion, and beyond his duties of guarding the village and working with me to find a cure, he has taken it on himself to bring relief and comfort to the villagers and to me. But now he has also taken the sickness, and I fear it may put an end to his errands of kindness. It is a miracle I do not seem to have it yet. Though my weariness and sickness have grown worse, I still think it to be mere stress. Yet I must press on with all my strength to find a worthy cure.”
from Ginger Faelyn’s Apothecary log, week three of the founding of The Forever Free Village.
The sight before her was one she’d seen before, and one she’d never forget: the eyeball, the very one that looked back at her the night prior. It was no longer embedded in the face of a fully wooden pony, but of an obviously living host.
The honey! The honey she accidentally dropped on the roots. It had worked!
“Giiiiii.. iinn... zher”, the hoarse voice continued, accompanied by the sound of wood scraping against dirt. And that’s when Fluttershy’s brain registered the rest of the image before her; the form of the stallion was twisted and contorted. His left hind leg was still fully lignified, dirt still clinging to the roots that connected unnaturally to the tibia, flesh twisted around the plant, sinews connected muscle to the wood directly, while the skin tore, unable to contain the rough bark. Blood-covered branches sprouted through the pelt all over his body, mostly around joints. But worst of all was the face, only one good eye, with a branch sprouting directly from the socket of the other, bits of fractured skull and what looked like brain matter poking through the skin around its origin.
It breathed in ragged breaths, and occasional coughs summoned a splatter of flesh, plant matter, and bloody bubbles. “Gin...” the creature painfully gurgled out the word, “...zhfer”. It shambled forward in a maneuver that was clearly meant to be a lunge. Fluttershy didn’t have time to evade, frozen by the horrific sight before her. The creature’s body collided with the pegasus, bringing her down with its weight on top of her. “HWÆR IS GINȜIFER? ” the creature bellowed, the sheer force of the words tearing its throat and splattering Fluttershy’s face with bits of gore and blood.
“I’m sorry, I don't know”, Fluttershy whimpered, raising her front hooves to defend her face from the monster’s hooves as they came down on her in a barrage of strikes. Fluttershy tried to buck the creature off her, but even a buck from a pony with average strength might not be enough to contend with the creature currently pummeling her, and it sure as Tartarus was not enough coming from Fluttershy.
“Please... stop”, she sobbed desperately as the creature relentlessly beat down on her front hooves. "Ic wille... þē... helpan”, she managed to stammer in a last ditch effort to resolve this peacefully.
The Old Ponish must’ve gotten its attention, because it paused for a moment. But a moment later, shrieking again, “HWÆR IS MĪN WĪF? ” it doubled down on its assault. A pained wail escaped Fluttershy as she felt a half-wood hoof come down hard on her right wing, followed by a painful crack. Her response was one almost reflexive. She was going to die if she didn’t act.
And act she did, using her good wing to smash the lantern across the face of the shambling mound of wood.
The creature let out a distorted wail of agony as the glass shattered against its face, burning oil quickly igniting the creature. Fluttershy was quickly back to her hooves, breathing heavily as she watched the wounded creature thrash around the little shop, the fire spreading over its body, thoroughly scorching the plant portion, and searing the pony bits, leaving only charred flesh.
Eventually the creature fell limp, breathing out one last death rattle through its ruined vocal cords. Fluttershy took a moment to catch her breath, flexing her injured wing, and wincing as she felt a sharp pain shoot through it. There’d be no flying for a while without causing further damage.
Her attention then turned to the creature, its form was still, it was dead, he was dead, now for good. Fluttershy felt tears start to streak down her face, a gnawing pit of sorrow in her gut at what she had done. “I’m sorry”, she stammered between soft sobs, “I didn’t know this would happen”. She extended a hoof to cradle the charred remains to the earth pony’s face. As the Element of Kindness, she had empathy for all creatures, even ones she did not know. So Fluttershy sat and quietly mourned.
“Oh gods, please, whichever gods are listening, I beg for your help. I woke to a scream this morn, it was around sunrise, it came from the neighbor’s house, words do not do the scene justice. The mare was weeping, holding tightly to her stallion's body. A tree had seemed to sprout like a parasitic worm from his belly, all the while roots and leaves sprouted from her skin. I will never forget those eyes, glazed over yet still slightly moving as the rest of the still whole body twitched, the plant spreading through it and turning the rest into wood for the soon-to-be carcass. It is now midday, Monday, and many others have already begun to turn. I have yet to catch the disease, but I have found the causes behind my other bodily ills. I—”
from Ginger Faelyn’s Apothecary log, half the page was torn and unreadable.
Fluttershy wasn’t sure how long she stayed looming over the ruined corpse, but eventually she dried her eyes, and picked up the shattered lantern. Still mostly intact, though the glass was ruined. She quickly refilled it with oil. But as she re-lit the wick, she noticed something on her hoof, an orange spot. Further examination of her body revealed more spots, and then she coughed. Bubbles, she hadn’t been in contact with the flower of the tree, she was sure of it. The only logical conclusion was simple: the creature she had just tangled with, the suffering, grotesque mass of mangled pony and twisting wood, had been contagious.
As Fluttershy stood, her mind turned to the others she had attempted to cure. What had she done? She stepped back out into the ruined village, and her fears were confirmed. Shambling half-pony mounds filled the small path through the village. Shredded hide and meat still trying to function despite the parasitic plant that was growing from within.
The beasts turned and looked in her direction, the small flame of her lantern acting like a beacon for their attention as it cut through the darkness of night. This was her fault. Fluttershy cursed herself for being so careless. All she had to do was not be so hasty. All she had to do was ask her friends for help. Twilight would have known what to do. She would have devised a plan to study these diseased ponies. She would have found a cure that actually worked as intended.
But now wasn’t the time for self-reproach. Fluttershy pulled herself from her thoughts, and looked to the heart of the village. The colossal, dead oak stood past the small horde of half tree mutants that were closing in on her. A susurrus of unintelligible sounds warbled from their ruined throats. The creatures before her were no longer ponies. They were broken, suffering husks of what they once were. They were like rabid animals. Sometimes kindness took courage, and sometimes it wasn’t pretty. The meek little injured pegasus summoned her last reserve of courage: holding her lantern high, she faced the small horde. She didn’t like it, but she knew what she had to do.
There are two remaining readable pages among those that were torn out
“It's over. At last I have taken the sickness, and there is not a healthy pony left among us. If we were now to flee, if we even could, we would only spread this blight to all of ponykind. And so we who yet live have gathered together in the heart of the town. It is wryly fitting that our resting place be a giant oak tree, as we shall be a forest of tree-shaped graves within it, and the greater tree shall be our mausoleum. Leif is gone now, yet I may take comfort for that the path of his sickness did not fearsomely twist his body, but left his face and beauty intact through the end, and I may look on it as I fade away.”
‘What would Rainbow Dash do?’ These were the words on Fluttershy’s mind as she galloped towards the horde. She turned sharply as she neared the first of her pursuers. Fluttershy wasn’t particularly fast, but these mangled and contorted horrors seemed incapable of rational thinking, which gave her enough of an edge to outmaneuver them. Using broken houses and trees as cover when she could, she ran in a wide circle around the village, and then back onto the central path.
She looked over her shoulder to see most of the creatures behind her. Despite already being out of breath, she was determined to press on. She waved her lantern high, catching as much of the horde’s attention as she could, and with only a few seconds rest, she again began to gallop deeper into the heart of the decrepit village.
She ran past more and more ponies before reaching the Village Center, the horde behind her growing larger with each one she evaded. That was good; she thought she got most of them to chase her. They hobbled towards her, each moaning out a unique gurgled mess of words and syllables, each resembling a fragment of the long-broken mind of the pony that once was.
“I'm comforting the little filly that lived across from us. She is such a sweet foal. It pains me to lie to her, but I have no heart to tell her of her fate. My mind turns to my own belly as I speak with her. In any other circumstances I would be overjoyed at the life I bear, but I grieve early, knowing I will never know if they were to be a colt or a filly. I write now to distract myself from the swiftly coming end. I am afraid. If anypony sees this, I pray, finish what I began. I was so near to a cure, if only I had more ti—”
The writing on the page cuts off abruptly
Fluttershy ran into the small horde within the large central tree. Already she was pushing her body to its limit—she wasn’t an athlete, but she persevered. Hopping up on what appeared to be a large podium at the wall opposite the entrance, she looked over the large gathering of half-cured ponies, and one in particular caught her eye.
The pony’s midsection was still covered in bark, and it still bulged out much more than normal. It seemed that a smaller tree had crudely burst from the side of its belly, and dragged along the ground, leaving a bloody trail as its host shambled on.
Fluttershy covered her mouth with her hooves in a gasp as she saw it. The glazed over eyes were as soulless as the rest of the horde, making her next actions the slightest bit easier. But, still, it was enough to make her falter.
“Ginger... I’m sorry...”, she whispered, holding back tears. She couldn’t buckle yet, no matter how much her aching body screamed at her to stop and her sorrowful mind sought to break the dam that prevented her from breaking down into sobs. She pulled out the large oil vial she packed, and tossed it into the crowd. The glass shattered, and oil covered the wooden ponies and dried leaves beneath. Taking a few steps back, and, with the lit lantern hanging from her mouth, she took a running leap over the horde. She spread her wings, fighting her best against the pain in her right wing.
Finally, she dropped the lantern. Breaking open with a loud ‘clang’, the oil-filled lantern erupted over the highly flammable creatures, causing a wave of combustion to wash over the suffering crowd. Fluttershy felt the sharp pain in her wing worsen, then a painful crack shot down it into her back, all before she came roughly crashing down on the other side of the ablaze horde. Fire licked against her as she scrambled to her hooves, prompting her to run. She couldn't even wait a moment to catch her breath.
Nausea churned in her guts from a mix of exhaustion, fever, and pain in her broken wing. The dead tree behind her went up like a massive torch, and she could feel the heat long after she escaped its radius. Unsure of where she was even going, just knowing she needed to get anywhere but where she currently was as quickly as possible, she galloped on, her aching body pushed far past its normal limits. Tears streaked down her face, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”, she sobbed to herself over and over, lamenting what she had done, even if it was for the greater good. A sudden pain shot through her as she collided full speed with something vaguely pony shaped. And it all went black.
Fluttershy opened her eyes. A bright light shone down on her. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t feel her legs or hooves. For a moment she wondered if she had died, or maybe she was still in the process of dying, on those elongated few minutes before fading from this world. No, that couldn’t be right, because as she tried to take a breath, oxygen filled her lungs, and it was like a rush of new life washed over her body. She coughed, her mouth and throat were painfully dry. She was covered in sweat from a recently broken fever, and an ache throughout her body made itself known. She was sore; the pegasus’s muscles felt like they had been through a cheese grater all over.
The mare groaned, and rolled onto her side, noticing the cast on her wing as she did. It was only then that she realized where she was: Ponyville Hospital. She was relieved, but a pang of guilt struck her stomach as she remembered the events of the night prior. Was she a bad pony for doing what she did? To so rashly take so many lives? No… surely the lives lost there saved countless others, and those who were set ablaze were nothing but suffering husks of their former selves. But even still, Fluttershy wished she could have done more for them… for Ginger and Leif who sacrificed so much for their little village.
Fluttershy’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening behind her. Nurse Redheart walked in and saw that she was up, “Oh, Miss Fluttershy, you’re awake”. The little yellow mare had so many questions, but her aching maw could only get one word out, “w-water…”
After emptying two cups full of water, Fluttershy sat up, and watched as Redheart brought in another mare, dark gray, with stripes and golden rings adorning her body. Fluttershy knew immediately who it was. “Good morning Fluttershy, when I found you, I feared you would not make it, but luckily, I was mistaken”, the zebra said, relief clear in her tone. “Zecora!” Fluttershy exclaimed, “I have so many things to tell you, there was a village, and they had an outbreak of swamp fever, and-”. Fluttershy was cut off by Zecora, “One step at a time, dear Fluttershy, for now take solace that your wounds are benign. Once you are healed, there will be time, you may tell me all about the fire I saw, that gave me a sign.”
