Where the Gentle Wing Rests

Chapter Two:The Cottage

“No distractions.”

Twilight’s magic seized the window blinds and flung them closed, cutting the room off from the outside world. The air stilled as the unicorn paced the silent steps back towards the center of the library, all the light in the room extinguished and the bookshelves dipped into darkness. All was quiet.

“This is too important.”

An army of blankets sat color-coded nearby—every single one she had been able to find within her home. Some of the larger blue ones came from the shower, the reds hailed from the kitchen, and one particular deep, royal purple had never found its way back to Rarity. Not that it mattered; it fit in right alongside the rainbow stacks of multi-colored fabrics.

Twilight approached, running an appreciative eye among the ranks.

She smirked. “Are you ready for this?” Her magic reached out and plucked a blanket, peeling it off the floor, and then another, and another . . .

Soon a haphazard dust-cloud of blankets, wools, coats, scarves, and ribbons cycloned around the room, converging on a single, tiny point on the wooden floor. Twilight’s horn rose to a white-hot glow; her feet skidded a few inches, but she clawed herself to the floor. This spell demanded the utmost concentration.

Beads of sweat began to scale down the cliffs of her face, but she didn’t dare waste a precious drop of her concentration to wipe them away.

Come on . . .

Any loose pages on the shelves bolted into the air, picked up by the strong wind currents building up. A few tomes flipped open and zipped through hundred of pages in mere seconds. Owlowiscious, clinging onto his perch for dear life, finally had enough and departed for a more secluded part of the library, tossing an annoyed hoot behind him.

Twilight, meanwhile, never took her eyes off the tortoise in the center of the room.

Round and round the woolen tornado spun, guided by magic’s hand and funneling towards the shivering pet. Just a few more seconds and . . .

“There!”

The rage of the magical hurricane subsided, and the books ceased somersaulting through the air; in a moment Twilight directed her horn at them as well, and each found its rightful place back on the shelves. The bookshelves sat quietly as Twilight wound down her magic, and the thunderous tick-tocks of the clock never rose above a whisper. The library stood still, peaceful even.

Twilight took a step back, admiring her handiwork.

Tank sneezed, now hidden somewhere beneath a protective cocoon of woolen blankets and naive optimism. Twilight inched her face closer to the surface in response.

Look at those even seams!

The sheer amount of blankets coiled about him seemed ridiculous in retrospect, but the more the merrier. If no gaps peeked through the folds, then no heat would escape through the fabric.

A few defiant wrinkles stood out on the thick surface, refusing to yield to fate. Little did they know that they were dealing with the most dedicated of perfectionists. Twilight Sparkle had, after all, once read an entire dictionary line by line, proofreading every definition.

Twice.

The wrinkles offered up a laughable resistance to the set of studious levander eyes that strobed the surface of the cloth, flattening out any imperfections through sheer will alone. With the last crinkle foiled, Twilight leaned back, satisfied. This activity finished, she levitated her impromptu schedule—one she had scrambled together minutes before—and double checked her progress.

Clean the kitchen (also, put away the utensils)

Research validity of recipe books (later)

Make Tank comfortable

Make myself breakfast

Fluttershy

A quick glance at the cloth-armoured tortoise confirmed that the third item on the list was now complete; she levitated a quill. The pen dragged across the page a little longer than necessary, and Twilight rode out the the duration of the scrawl, letting her ears soak in the delicious sound of quill on paper. There was something about making schedules; it was always a cheerful business. Nevermind the satisfaction of actually completing the items on the list, she would have made a list regardless of whether or not Tank needed medical attention.

Plus she was doing this as a favor for Dash. Sure, she had forgotten about her pet, but everyone was prone to such mistakes, right?

Right?

Rumbles rolled through her stomach, pulling her thoughts away from the tortoise and towards the kitchen. The clock also announced its presence, reminding her that fifteen minutes had passed since Dash’s departure. She glanced around the library, running a mental checklist and counting off each item. The shelves were organized, the kitchen was clean, Tank was ready . . .

A lifeless room stared back at her, not one item out of place. An unheard of feat, considering that this was her work, and not Spike’s. Her usual studies demanded tearing down all the books, sometimes just to annoy her assistant.

She giggled, and the even bookshelves stared disapproval back at her, siding with Spike. A shame that a certain pegasus wasn’t there to knock them over. Some new flying trick for an excuse or something of the sort. Or maybe a race down the stairs. Somehow the absence of imminent danger to her beloved books made them . . .

Boring?

The room was colder without Dash, less colorful, and it had nothing to do with the overcast sky outside her window. Excitement tended to follow the pegasus wherever she went, and it was worth having around, even if it often resulted in makeshift windows getting blasted into the walls.

She sighed, the very sound of loneliness. Waking up before the usual opening hours carried the unexpected burden of solitude.

At least the surprise picnic at noon promised them a few hours together on the grass, chatting about astronomy, history, chemistry . . . or the Wonderbolts. Dash knew all the obscure little details about Equestria’s greatest fliers: their signature moves, lap records, birthdays, even their favorite colors. No detail, no matter how irrelevant, escaped those magenta eyes and cyan ears; her devotion to the racer’s rivaled Twilight’s addiction to schedules.

But then again, it had been awhile since Rainbow brought up her idols in a conversation. Which was more than a little strange.

Her eyes rested on Tank once more. It was a question best reserved for later, for now she had to prepare for their departure. To that end, she had managed to salvage Spike’s old, red cart from the closet, and it would soon serve a new life as a makeshift stretcher.

Joining the cart were additional blankets, a bottle of water, bandages, and a set of binoculars; the latter in case she noticed anything research-worthy on the road to Fluttershy’s cottage.

Fluttershy.

Twilight shuddered. Their brief relationship lay buried in the past, but talking to her ex was never a comfortable subject. It didn’t help that all of her friends by now knew that Fluttershy had been a stepping stone on the road to Dash.

And Fluttershy was no exception.

Up until now, their encounters had proven to be endurable. Brief words, awkward side glances, and Pinkie’s ramblings had proven enough to fill the silent gaps that stretched between the two. And Twilight could always count on Dash or Rarity to divert attention away from the pair.

But this time was different. It was just her and Fluttershy; there was nowhere to run.

I'm on my own.

She placed the sick animal and all the items she had gathered into the cart, and made her way towards the door. “Let’s get this over with little guy,” she said, more to herself than to the tortoise. The cart squeaked after her, pulled by a magical finger.

Before she could turn the knob and exit the library, the door swung open of its own accord, and Spike appeared in the entryway. He was not carrying any package.

“Spike! There you are.” She glanced at this empty arms. “Where are the donuts?”

Spike waddled past, shrugging. “Pinkie says you have to pick them up yourself. She wouldn’t give them to me.” The red cart stole his attention, and he peered at the thick, woolen ball sitting on the makeshift stretcher. “Woah. Is that Tank?”

Twilight didn’t hear his question. “I have to go pick them up? But I can’t, I have a very sick animal I need to take care of. Dash is counting on me!”

Spike threw his arms into the air. “She’ll only hand them over if you go. That’s the deal sister. And she says you should go before opening time, or you might have to wait in line.”

Twilight glanced at the clock. Dash had left just in time to check in for her job. No doubt other ponies were doing the same at this very moment, and some, like her, would have skipped out on breakfast. She risked slamming into the morning gridlock if she didn’t head to The Corner right away.

Twilight sighed through her nose, gawking at the dragon as if this were all his fault. “Fine. I’ll try to be back soon,” she said, walking towards the door but pausing before the handle. Adjusting a scarf around her neck, she glanced back at her assistant.

“Oh, and Spike?”

Spike, bending over to pick up a discarded blanket, looked up. “Yeah?”

“Dash and I left a mess upstairs from earlier this morning. Do you think you could have it picked up before I get back?”

Spike reached for a broom, and started heading towards the stairs. “It is a lot?”

Twilight thought back to a half hour ago, to the smoking carcass of a bookshelf and its spilled contents that blanketed the entire floor in a crumpled wasteland of paper, tomes and hardcovers. At least the bed was clean.

“No,” she lied.

“Sure thing,” came the cheerful reply of an oblivious dragon ascending to his doom.

Twilight tightened her scarf and grasped the red cart. Best not to stick around when he unearthed her little cover up. She’d make sure to get him a sapphire muffin, one of his favorites, from The Corner in compensation.

Twilight stepped outside, snapped the door shut, and paused outside the entrance to her home. Turning back towards the door, she adjusted the sign that hung just above the engraving of a lamp.

F I R S T   M U N I C I P I A L   L I B R A R Y

Hours: 11:00 AM- 5:30 PM

Closed on Weekends

Satisfied, Twilight turned and walked out into the street, cart in tow, and came face to face with the morning chill. A few of the ponies streaming past her door still donned hoods and scarves, but most wore nothing at all—the attire of Spring. Appropriate, considering that summer was right around the corner, and with it, the long awaited Summer Sun Celebration.

Twilight could have hardly believed her ears when Spike had read the letter, so many weeks ago. Ponyville would host the celebration again! Well, technically it would be the first time, considering that the last attempt ended in a near total collapse of Equestrian Society.

Not to mention the whole world. At least she would get to organize it again, and this time with her friends in mind.

The cart stumbled on a crack in the street, as Twilight walked out into the street, rolling Tank around against the sets of extra towels and binoculars. She didn’t notice.

This time around, Fluttershy could do the orchestra, Rarity would handle the decorations, Applejack could cater, Pinkie could host the party, and Dash . . . Rainbow will perform a sweeping dive—right at the moment that Twilight unleashed a tornado of fireworks—over the swarms of cheering ponies that ended with her shattering the sky in a prismatic explosion. Then, as the moon twinkled and illuminated her wings, her lover would swoop down and scoop her into her arms, carrying her high into the clouds as all of the town, and her mentor, watched. Up there, in the freedom of that expanse, they would dance and swerve amongst the stars—just like in the closing chapter of Gone With the Mare.

Twilight sighed. It’s going to be so romantic!

“Good morning Twilight,” came a voice, one that sounded just like the mayor.

“Huh?”

The sudden greeting caught the unicorn by surprise, and she glanced around. The street and mingling  crowds had evaporated, replaced by the warm pink and violet hues of Sugarcube Corner. Sometime in the last few minutes, she had arrived at Pinkie’s home.

She wasn't the only one either. Already droves of ponies besieged the entrance, among them what appeared to be a group of school fillies, headed by Cheerilee. The school teacher was saying something to her students, pointing to various features of the building.

Twilight couldn’t hear the words, not above the drone of the other, older ponies gathered around the entrance, staring at the window shops with famished eyes. A large, red ‘CLOSED’ sign still hung from the window, but any second now a pink hoof would turn the plaque over, and the restraints holding the savage horde back would snap and break loose.

Mayor Mare walked towards her, down from the front steps, smiling from behind a moist brown paper bag perched between her teeth. The older mare passed Twilight, gave a cheerful nod, and disappeared into the market square.

“Wave goodbye to the mayor!” said Cheerilee, waving and smiling. Her students didn’t seem so enthusiastic, judging from their hollow stares and frizzled manes that begged to be laid upon a pillow.

The teacher turned back to her students as Twilight approached the front steps. “And this, children, is the bakery. Can anyone tell me what sort of goods you can buy here? Yes, Scootaloo?”

“Can we just get the bagels already?”

Apple Bloom, adjusting her bow, prodded her in the shoulder. “Ah thought we had all agreed on caramel apples?”

Another head perked up, this one with a mane like cotton candy. “You always eat apples.That’s all you and Applejack and Big Macintosh ever eat! Apples, apples, apples. And come on, Rarity is going to kill me if I don’t bring her some sponge cake.”

“Miss Twilight!”

Twilight turned around, just in time to see a pink filly, with a tiara decorating her flank, vent frustration through her nose at another bewildered filly.

“For the last time, Dodo Baggins, it’s Cheerilee. C-H-E-E-R-I-L-E-E. Twilight is the hopeless egghead stuck in the library.”

“Tiara, be nice to our newest student,” Cheerilee interrupted.

The filly in question, a short, stubby little unicorn with a ginger coat and brown hair, shook his head and pointed at Twilight. “No, she’s right behind you.”

Cheerilee glanced over her shoulder. “What? Who . . . oh so it is you! Class, say hello to our local librarian.”

“Good morning Miss Twilight,” echoed the lifeless hoard of fillies, resembling more a collection of wound-up dolls than living, breathing creatures. Twilight had heard more enthusiasm from Rainbow when she had agreed to watch that foreign-language puppet show with her in a shady, run down theater. Even Twilight had agreed afterwards that it had been a bad idea.

The unicorn shuddered. Seven hours ofGermaneighian torture, stuffed full of purple prose and tangled dialogue. At one point, one of the puppets had somehow caught on fire—exactly how, Twilight hadn’t cared. Rainbow Dash, roused from her sleep by the screams, had stood and given a standing ovation, much to the dismay of the fleeing patrons.

At least the seats had been good.

Twilight stepped closer to the school gathering, keeping the cart with Tank close by, addressing them all. “Hello girls. What brings you all here?”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “A stupid fieldtrip— ow! Watch it,” she growled to Scootaloo, who whistled and looked the other way, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Twilight turned to Cheerilee. “A field trip? At this hour?”

The teacher beamed. “Yes, for the study of bromatology.”

“What’s that?” groaned Scootaloo. “The study of bros?”

Cheerilee’s eye twitched, and she continued, “The study of—”

“—Food,” Twilight finished.

The teacher nodded. “I got the idea from those three,” she said, pointing at Apple Bloom and her friends. “The other day they were going on and on about chocolate chip waffles, and how Sugarcube Corner always had a bach ready. So I thought, why not?”

Cheerilee sighed.

“But as you can see . . .” Cheerilee extended a hoof to her students, who had descended into anarchy.

Again.

Apple Bloom played with her mane, looking at Scootaloo. “Ya know, Applejack says that apples are good for ya . . . especially caramel apples. Y’know, cause they’re covered with caramel and all. Caramel. Yes.”

Her orange friend rubbed her temple with a hoof. “Oh not this again.”

Sweetie Bell, meanwhile, fell down to her knees, pleading to deaf ears. “Girls, I am going to die. She is going to stuff me and use me as a mannequin! I NEED that sponge cake.”

Twilight stepped forward. This was an opportunity for a lecture and she wasn’t going to miss out on it. “Girls, don’t you remember what happened the last time you all argued?”

Three sets of empty eyes swiveled around and stared back at her. “No.”

“ . . . Really? Discord? Chocolate Rain? . . . Anything?”

Sweetie Belle prodded Apple Bloom in the shoulder. “Isn’t that when we had to write some essay? Or something?”

“Oh yeah, about some statue. Or something.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah . . . Hmm . . .”

“. . .”

“. . .”

“. . . So we are getting bagels, right?”

Cheerilee's face did all it could to keep from exploding. “Class! Why don’t you go inside? I’ll be right out here discussing with Miss Sparkle OUR FUTURE FIELD TRIP!”

The students heaved a mighty collective groan, which the teacher dodged with ease. Twilight, on the other hand, had to claw her hooves into the ground to prevent getting swept up in the gale.

By the time the dust cloud had settled, the students had vanished, and had somehow forced their way into the technically-still-not open shop, leaving a tattered, swinging front door in their wake. The sounds of screaming and battle trickled through to the outside.

Twilight waited for the storm to whither down, and turned towards Cheerilee.

“I didn't know class starts this early.”

Cheerilee’s face assumed a delicious smirk. “The students don’t know that either. Actually I just really needed a Dark Caramel Espresso a’la Mode.”

“Oh. I’ve never tried that. I’m here to pick up an order of doughnuts.”

Cheerilee nodded, ignoring the blood curling screams pulsing from within the Corner, not a few feet away.

“That’s nice. But I really am interested in organizing a field trip to the library, though I’m not sure at what time would be more convenient for you. Are you changing the hours?”

Twilight scrunched her face. Changing what hours?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re here, but the library doesn’t open until eleven.”

Twilight blinked. Oh, that was why. Many of her neighbors were also probably surprised to see her awake at this hour. Not that it was her fault, anyway. After all, ever since Dash had moved in, she had received some complaints that their nocturnal activities kept everyone awake as they laughed, talked and chased away the night.

That, and other things.

Cheerilee's voice brought her back into the conversation, wiping the goofy grin off her face.

“Twilight?”

“What?”

An eyebrow on Cheerilee’s face lifted. “I asked if you we're changing the library hours? Maybe we could arrange a field trip for eight in the morning?

“Oh, no. You see, I'm taking Tank to the doctor.”

“Tank?” Cheerilee tilted her head to the side, looking over Twilight’s shoulder and searching for whoever she was talking about. After a moment, she gave up. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Oh, right, Rainbow Dash’s pet tortoise,” the unicorn said, motioning towards the cart behind her. “Dash couldn’t take him to the vet today, so I’m doing it for her.”

“Oh! Are you going to Fluttershy’s? Say hi to your marefriend for me, I haven't seen her in a long time.”

Sure thing—Wait, what?

Now it was Twilight’s turn to arch her eyebrows. “Um, sure? I'll let her know the next time I see her. Now, as far as the field trip goes . . .”

Cheerilee nodded. “I’m open to anything.”

“Right. How about I teach the class about astronomical navigation?”

A warm smile tugged at the corner of Cheerilee’s mouth.“You like to teach, Twilight? Well I suppose being a librarian  does mean you love learning and passing on that knowledge to others. They had offered me the Ponyville Library before you came along. Did anyone ever tell you that? I turned down the position; I wouldn't give up my students for anything.”

Twilight’s eyes brightened. “Why yes I do! And no. You see, I’ve never taught a class before, but I have been teaching Rainbow about the various constellations at night. We both think it will help us navigate in the dark; you know, when neither of us has a compass nearby. Maybe your students would be interested on the matter? I have these wonderful reference guides . . . what?”

Sometime during her explanation, Cheerilee had arched another eyebrow. “Rainbow Dash takes you flying? At night?”

“Why yes! At first I was terrified, as Dash loves to make sudden dives, but after awhile I got used to it.” The unicorn fidgeted a leg, not really knowing what to do with it, shying away from the teacher’s probing eyes. “And, well, what can I say? I trust her.”

Cheerilee's hoof slammed into her forehead and a loud smack echoed, startling Twilight. “I’m so sorry Twilight! You and Rainbow are dating. That explains it. For a moment, I had thought that—” The teacher broke off  mid-sentence, clamming her mouth shut.

Twilight thought she could see embarrassment lurking behind Cheerilee eyes.“What? You had thought what?”

The teacher sighed. “I’m sorry. For some reason I thought that you and Fluttershy were still . . .”

“What? What, did you think that . . . no . . . Did you think we were still dating?!” Twilight deadpanned.

“I, uh, well, you see . . .Yes. The last I heard was that party thrown for you and Fluttershy.”

Twilight’s jaw hit the floor. “That was almost a year ago.”

“. . . I’m sorry?”

The queasy smiled returned to Twilight’s lips. Best to play along with it. “Don't worry about it. It’s all in the past right? Besides, I’m with someone now.”

“Miss Cheerilee! Dodo is chewing on the tables again.”

They both turned to look at the speaker, Diamond Tiara, whose head poked out the doorway.

Twilight coughed. Now was a good time to retreat behind a cloud of smoke. Whatever was happening inside the bakery would provide a good excuse. “Well, it seems I should get going. Looks like you’re pretty busy,” she said, swinging an arm through the air and throwing on her best, I-am-totally-not-faking-this, face.

Cheerilee turned towards the unicorn. “You mentioned you needed to pick up an order? Care to join us? We can discuss the field trip in detail.”

“No thanks,” she squeaked. “I really should get going. Sick tortoise, running late, you know.”

Cheerilee peered over her shoulder at the cart. She nodded. “Is that so? Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Of course. I’ll consider that field trip,” she replied as she swiveled her eyes back out into the market and marched out towards the town center in terse, grim steps, barely catching Cheerilee’s reply.

“It was a pleasure talking to you Twilight!”

“You too,” came the reply through gritted teeth.

Still dating Fluttershy! How can anyone still think that? It’s practically unbelievable!

Hounded by Cheerilee's remark, Twilight moved past the crowds and into the market square.

On the outside, the stalls resembled the calm and peaceful poise of the library, in stark contrast to the madness at the bakery. Ponies navigated the stands with the serenity of koi drifting through a solitary pond. Twilight joined them in the square, wading alone in her thoughts and steady in her steps, cart in tow.

The clouds above told a different story.

Rays of sunshine hammered away at the thinning sky, ripping apart the grey seams and casting crisscrossing cobwebs of golden light that splintered the dark expanse. Large gaps appeared at points where the sunlight had punched through, and the flurry of pegasi wings flashed through the visible holes where the clouds fell apart.

A whole year. Twelve months. Twilight quickened her pace past the stalls, ignoring the various offers tossed her way.

“I’ll give you this cherry for twenty bits!”

“Buy one, get one free!”

“Over productive morning. All surplus must go!”

The cold, chalky street kept her attention as she bore past the market. Was the whole town thinking this?

“Fresh apples! Try one of our tasty green apples! Straight from the farm, just like the ones we use to make cider. Howdy Twilight!”

For the second time in so many minutes, another pony had managed to stumble across her in the middle of her thoughts. The sugary drawl tore her gaze up from the street and into the farmer’s eyes.

Applejack was looking right at her, behind a sales cart not more than ten feet away. Big Macintosh moved from behind her, placing large bin-fulls of apples on the cart which creaked and swayed under the weight. Her stall had a miniature gathering of its own, attracting a few envious glares from neighboring vendors.

The farm pony tapped her stetson, and motioned beyond Twilight’s shoulder. “Isn’t that cart over there yours?”

Twilight followed her gaze and saw the red cart, with Tank still sitting atop it, well behind her in the middle of the square. “Oh!” A quick snap of the magical lasso and the cart was once more at her side.

“You okay, hun? You seem a little off. Sour morning?”

“I’m fine. It’s just . . . you know what nevermind.” Twilight hung her head, a heavy sigh rolling out of her mouth.

Applejack nodded her head. “Whatever’s on your mind, don’t let it get to ya sugar. I’m sure Dash will love to hear about it later—are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Of course! Why?”

“You just flinched.” Applejack looked over Twilight's shoulder, and motioned to some location behind her. “Was it something Cheerilee said?”

Twilight spun around. The bakery stood within sight of the apple cart, peeking out through a cobweb of fruit stands and vegetable carts.

Releasing a frustrated growl, Twilight looked back to the farmer. “Applejack, when did Pinkie throw that party for me and Fluttershy?”

Applejack placed a hoof to her chin and hummed in concentration. “Why, I reckon that was over—”

“A year ago. And get this: Cheerilee thought we were still dating! Yes, Fluttershy and I. Can you believe her?”

Twilight punctuated the last question with a hoof stomp on the ground, and the let the question hang in the sub subsequent silence. Whatever reaction she had hoped to draw out from the farmer, she wasn't getting it.

Applejack’s face stared back at her, blank, not a hint of emotion scribbled on her steady eyes or tight mouth. Removing her Stetson, she scratched the back of her head.

“Well, hate to break it to ya Twilight, but you two haven’t exactly been the most sociable of friends as of late.”

Twilight’s eyebrows nearly leaped off her face. “What do you mean?”

“AJ,” called Big Macintosh’s deep voice.

“Yeah, yeah, in a sec,” Applejack fired off towards her brother behind her, and turned back to Twilight.

“Look at it from mah point of view.  You kinda whisked her into your little hut and cut yourself off from the rest of the world. For a second, we all thought you had kidnapped her, or something. You two disappeared into your library and that’s all we hear from you two, ever. I only found out you and Rainbow were dating because Fluttershy mentioned it. You two don’t talk to anyone else, you don’t drop by and chat, you forget all about us . . . Some of the folk in this square haven’t seen you for days, if not weeks. And so Cheerilee comes along and says the obvious. What were ya expecting?”

“Wait, what? Me and Dash haven't turned to into hermits. There was that time when we both—”

“Uh, sis?” prodded a besieged Big Macintosh. A new set of ponies had taken it upon themselves to simultaneously heckle the red stallion over pricing. The apple in question appeared to be a lone Golden  Delicious, the last of its kind amongst a sea of shiny red Fujis.

Applejack glanced over her shoulder at the carnage. “I hear ya brother. Go on ahead, Twi, you were saying?”

Twilight’s stomach answered instead, rumbling out a low growl. A few of the nearby customers within earshot glanced in her direction.

Applejack whistled. “Geez girl! Ya hungry?”

Twilights stomach seized the opportunity, and rumbled in anticipation. Salvation was at hand.

Applejack shook her head. “We’ll talk later, alright? First you gotta get yourself something to eat.” She turned to her brother manning the stall, “Big Mac, toss me an apple over here. Yup, that big red one. Here!”

The red apple went sailing through the air, and Twilight caught it mid-air with a flick of her magic. The smooth surface was polished to a brilliant sheen, and a miniature Twilight gazed back at her through the reflection.

“Don't worry about the bits, hun, this one’s on the farm.”

Twilight looked back up, surprised. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Well shoot, why would I be mad at you? All we need is to have a sit down and chat, straighten the boards. You’ve done nothing wrong Twi, I would never be mad at you.”

Twilight busied herself in stashing the apple into her cart, not quite matching Applejack’s steady gaze. “Thank you. I’ll eat this on my way to Fluttershy’s. I need to get Tank there.”

Applejack, who up to till that moment had worn a beaming grin, squawked and tilted her head. “Tank? Rainbow’s pet? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s sick,” Twilight said, squeezing the apple in between the wrapped tortoise and her binoculars. “Dash is working today, so it’s up to me to make sure he’s looked after.”

“So that’s what the shivering egg in the cart is. Well I’ll be headin’ that way myself likcety split,” she said, returning to her brother. “Fluttershy likes her apples delivered in the morning, right about now. Go on ahead, Twi. I’ll catch up,”

They bade their farewells, and Twilight managed to exit the marketplace with some grace. A moment later, she was back on the lonely road to Fluttershy’s cottage.

And Cheerilee’s remark followed her every step of the way.

Something was . . . off

The trees swayed in the gentle breeze that had picked up, and a legion of birds lingered just beyond the branches. Sets of beady little eyes studied her from all angles, watching every footstep. The feathered sentinels grew in number the closer she neared the yellow cottage, as if summoned from the depths of her agitated mind.

Dozens of silent glares tossed her way from the undergrowth. Twilight looked back down at the dirt road.

They were there too.

Shadowy figures darted in between the foliage, rustling the shrubs they dove into and conversing in hushed tones. The whispers were useless to her ears, meaningless gibberish uttered in some unknown woodland language. If she didn’t know any better, though, she could swear she heard traces of disapproval in their tones.

One brown rabbit in particular braved the unknown and flew up to the unicorn, pausing before her feet.

Twilight ground to a halt, and the cart stopped alongside her. The mudpile of blankets that had once resembled Tank seemed to lean its ‘head’ to the side, asking the same question.

Twilight shook her head. “Ok, this is getting weird . . .”

The little rabbit looked up at her, the black swirls of his eyes containing all manner of secrets. He stood there, between her and further progress up the road. Fluttershy’s cottage wasn’t much farther, just a another minute or two walking and she’d be over the iconic bridge.

The rabbit, however, wasn’t moving. Twilight sighed; well, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Um, hello?”

Silence.

She cleared her throat. “Hi there. Would you mind letting me pass? I have a very sick pet I need to tend to for a very good friend. What do you say?”

The rabbit turned his gaze past her shoulder and peered at the red cart. He lifted a brown paw and pointed at something on the carriage, presumably a ball of woven cloth.

“Yes, him. I'm a friend of Fluttershy’s. May I please go through?”

As impossible as it seemed, the bunny flinched when she had mentioned the pegasus's name. Twilight scratched her head. Was it possible that they had . . . met before?

Regardless, the rabbit turned and stared off into the distance; first at the branches, and then at the surrounding brush. For several seconds the foliage kept his attention, as if he was waiting for some sign of approval from mother nature. If more were animals hidden in the undergrowth, Twilight couldn’t tell. They had concealed themselves with masterful precision.

At last the rabbit shrugged, and stepped aside. At the same moment several other creatures emerged from the shadows: rabbits, gophers, frogs, raccoons, and even a few birds from the trees, all  pausing a good distance from Twilight. They sat there, waiting for her to do something.

Twilight glanced around at the makeshift gathering. “Uh, thanks?” She summoned a tendril of magic, and tugged at the cart. The animals parted for her as she walked past, but otherwise held their ground. A few more steps and some yards later, they still stood there, watching.

But not for long.

First one, then two, then all of her silent guards began following her. Soon Twilight found that it wasn’t only the red cart that was trailing after her, but a miniature herd of woodland creatures. Not a single word passed between them; they might as well have been mobile statues.

Ignoring them, Twilight followed the winding road around a bend, and came face to face with a muddled stream. The swirling strands of water idled through the mudbank, picking up clots of soot and clay that drifted along beneath the still reflection. A few more feet ahead, past rows of sharp grass rooted near the water, stood a bridge surrounded by nature’s green, and just beyond lay Fluttershy’s home. The cottage made no effort to stand out amongst the gentle trees or the surrounding soft, rolling hills. Beautiful, yet solemn in its isolation.

And, as ridiculous as it seemed, an even greater multitude of furry creatures awaited her. The collection here rivaled the one in Celestia’s gardens. Cadance had taken her there many times as a foal; all the wondrous creatures in the world resided in that small little sanctuary. Colorful butterflies, large spider monkeys, cute little ducks, even an exotic flamingo.

Fluttershy’s cottage had all this, plus a bear. All stood silent, pensive, watching, as if they were protecting something.

She glanced at the wooden door of the cottage.

Or someone.

It’s as if they know.

Twilight cleared her throat, and risked a few steps towards the bridge. When nothing happened, she braved a few more feet, even going as far as laying a footstep on the wooden bridge itself. With baited breath, she glanced at the wall of eyes that followed her progress. It wasn’t the fish, nor the birds, nor the rabbits that concerned her; no, her fear was reserved for the stern looking ravenous ogre that humbly referred to itself as a bear.

Yet nothing happened; the watch guards seemed content with letting her pass. Well, the bridge, at least. Things might turn a bit harrier once she dared knock at the door.

But knock on the door she must.

Twilight’s head remained squarely on her shoulders by the time she had finished crossing the moat. Keen on keeping things that way, she started up the small ascension to Fluttershy’s door, but paused before the imposing wooden gates.

The little brown bunny from before was back, standing sentinel before his mistresses fortress with his shoulders crossed. Twilight glanced left and right; all the animals leaned forward, expecting some momentous event to come crashing down from the pages of destiny.

Twilight sighed. “Are you going to let me in or not?” The makeshift egg on her cart too shivered in irritation.

Twilight stared at the rabbit, and the bunny stared right back. Slowly, he raised his tiny paw and struck the door in three precise, measured knocks. From beyond came the sounds of a fumbling lock, and a moment later the door creaked open.

At first, the open door revealed nothing but the furniture of the room. It took a moment for Twilight to realize that she had to look down to see who had opened the door, and down . . . and down . . .

Angel, Fluttershy’s self-titled bouncer, stood staring up at her with one paw on the wooden handle and the other hanging by his side, mouth wide open in disbelief. His eyes vomited a disgusted look unto Twilight, and he turned his lethal glare towards his fellow kind: the brown companion.

Furious spit flew back and forth as the two rabbits escalated into a heated debate. Twilight could only watch, guessing at their thoughts. At one point, the brown bunny raised a paw and made a show of pointing at the cart that Twilight had brought along.

Angel’s banter ceased, and he shifted his gaze between Tank, the unicorn, and his trusted confidant. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back into the room . . . and slammed the door shut.

Twilight blinked. “What just happened.” The egg sitting in her cart offered a shrug in reply.

Grasping the handle, she glanced back towards the direction of the road. If Angel was going to refuse her entry, then her only other option of medical attention lay in—

A furry little paw tugged at her leg. She glanced down, and saw the brown bunny holding up a paw, signalling her to wait.

Wait? Wait for what?

The answer came with the sound of hoofsteps approaching the door, accompanied by a sweet, innocent whisper. “What's that Angel bunny? Someone’s at the door? With a big cart?”

Before Twilight could bulletproof her mind and soul, the door was opened by none other than her ex-marefriend.

“Good morning Applejack. If you don’t mind, maybe this time you could set the apples down . . . in . . .”

The buttery pegasus clamped her lips shut. The pale unicorn feared opening hers. The solution, of course, was to open her mouth and hope for the best.

“Good-morning-Fluttershy-great-weather-we’re-having-hey-listen IwaswonderingifyoucouldtakealookatthistortoiseformeDashreallyneedsthisfavor!”

Fluttershy only offered confused blinks in reply.

Twilight could almost see the words bouncing off the pegasus’s skull; she heard their screams as they flew off into space. No good; her thick, blunted dictation proved impenetrable to all but the most dedicated of linguists. Time to fall back onto the backup plan: wide smiles, heavy sweat, and tremendous hope in a higher power that the pegasus would be the one to initiate conversation.

Her prayers were answered.

Hiding one eye behind a loose lock of pink mane, Fluttershy lowered her gaze to the unicorns feet. “I’m sorry Twilight, co-could you repeat-t that?”

She was stuttering. Why is she stuttering?

Twilight’s desperate grin ever widened. “Sure thing buddy ol’ pal!”

“. . .”

“. . .”

“Um, Twilight?”

“Right! You see, Rainbow this morning went to her house to . . . pick up a few things. She brought Tank back to the Library,” she stepped to the side to give her ex a better view of the cart, “but he’s very sick. I was wondering if maybe you could—”

Fluttershy’s scream cut off whatever Twilight was going to say next. She struggled to stumble out of the way of the stampeding pegasus in time, almost tripping over as Fluttershy screeched past her. Before she could say anything, her ex-marefriend disappeared back into the cottage, cradling the quilt-wrapped tortoise in her hooves and not bothering to close the door behind her.

A moment later, she reappeared in the doorway. “P-please. Come in.”

Had things always been like this, even back then?

Outwardly, Twilight said, “Thanks.” Stepping past the seething glare of Angel, the unicorn entered the cottage to see Fluttershy hovering over an exposed Tank, all the extra quilts piled in a neat stack next to his cold shell.

“Fluttershy,” Twilight hissed. “What are you doing?! Those quilts are the only thing keeping him warm!”

The pegasus didn’t glance in her direction as she fed a thermometer into the tortoise’s mouth. “Oh, don’t worry about that Twilight. You see, tortoises, like Tank, are cold blooded; they don't produce much in the way of body heat.  Wrapping Tank in a blanket didn’t really do anything because there's no heat source to trap.  Now, if you had wrapped him with a hot water bottle, or something, that would have been a good idea.”

Twilight blinked as Fluttershy pulled out the thermometer and frowned. Without another word, the pegasus floated over to the kitchen and took out a large bowl from the lower cabinets.

“Although I do appreciate that you brought him here as soon as you could.”

The complement had no effect on Twilight, whose mouth hung open in wide shock. For perhaps the very first time in all of Equestrian history, it was someone else who knew the obscure details of a niche subject, and not her.

“Twilight?”

“Yes?”

“Could you get me my recipe book? I think Angel left it in my . . . room.”

Fluttershy might as well been asking her to retrieve a lump of unshielded plutonium. Twilight glanced towards the stairs, recalling an evening she’d rather have banished from her memories. “I think I remember where it is.”

Fluttershy didn’t answer as the unicorn ascended the first steps into the upper floor of the cottage. She might as well have been ascending a scaffold. The wood panelling, the creaky steps, the beige doors, and at on the first door to the left, that all-too-familiar room . . .

The door offered no resistance.

Twilight stood in the doorway, peering into another world. Fluttershy’s inner retreat within the isolated cottage resembled more a chicken coop than a typical bedroom. Scattered bird houses dangled from the ceiling, while images of butterflies dominated every blanket and every picture frame. Underneath the images lay scented candles, topping the cabinets and drawers and laced the air with their tickling scent; just like last time. The fireplace as well, had been lit that night, casting glows upon the midnight bed sheets.

The night that Fluttershy had tried to sleep with—

“Twilight!” came the muffled cry through the floor, causing the unicorn to stare in awe at the floorboards. Amazing that Fluttershy’s meek voice had managed to the penetrate strong oak. Perhaps she had changed; that, or Twilight had just never really gotten to know her in the first place.

The unicorn backpedaled out the door and down the hallway. A few steps later, she poked her head through the stairs.

“Yes, Fluttershy?”

Sometime in the few minutes she had vanished upstairs, Fluttershy had arranged a line of cabbages into a neat, little row of death, every head awaiting a grisly fate. The tip of a large cleaver sat sunken into a wooden cutting board, awaiting the appointed hour. Off to the side, Fluttershy had a large, checkered recipe book opened to a page depicting a salad bowl.

Fluttershy’s meek eyes shone in the glint reflection of the blade.

“Oh, Angel found it. It was down here.”

Twilight took a few more steps down the stairs, and glanced at the bunny. The white rabbit stood behind the counter with Fluttershy, his shark eyes glaring right back at her. There was no mercy in those eyes.

“Oh, ok,” Twilight said as she stepped onto the first floor once more. She glanced towards the door.

“Alrighty then! Tank is in good hooves, and I’ll be on my way then. Unless you need me to stay?”

The pegasus kept her gaze fixed into the bowl and said nothing.

“No?” Her legs carried her towards the wooden exit that was all the difference between enduring a pregnant silence and tasting the freedom of the outside world. Maybe some of Dash was rubbing off on her after all.

Which was all the more reason to leave.

She tried very hard to hide the pinpricks of sweat that sprinkled her forehead and the uneasy laugh that fumbled past her lips. “I’ll be back later to check up on him, for now—”

“Twilight,” came the response, clear and measured.

Twilight’s march across the room came to a careening halt. Cautiously, as if sensing an impending trap, Twilight’s head rotated around, though she didn’t dare look at the pegasus in the eye. “Yes?”

“Why is Tank sick?”

The unicorn didn’t risk an answer. It was answer enough.

Fluttershy wrenched the blade from the cutting board’s grip and lined the sharpened edge against the delicate, leafy flesh of the first cabbage. “It’s alright, I'm sure you two were busy doing . . . things.”

The knife hung in mid-air, poised for a deafening strike that Twilight’s ears awaited with baited breath. The vulnerable, soft folds of green vegetable awaited the first blow, arranged as a sacrificial offering upon a kitchen altar. Any moment now, a voice of judgement would slap down a weighted sentence upon her taut muscles and tense ears.

Fluttershy did not disappoint.

“Although it still doesn’t excuse what she did.” The blade swung down in a vicious stroke and decapitated the first cabbage with a loud thunk.

For all it was worth, it might as well have been directed at Twilight’s heart.

The stabs did not stop. Fluttershy’s hooves blurred with practiced precision, picking up a staccato beat of sword versus nature. The first cabbage disappeared beneath her automatonic movements, shredded into fine strips. With one vegetable head taken care of, Fluttershy used the blade to shove the shredded leaves off the cutting board and into the bowl she had taken out earlier.

She rolled the next cabbage into position.

Twilight raised her voice a notch. “Uh, Fluttershy?”

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

“He was probably all by himself, wondering where she went. Missing her, worried that she didn’t care about him anymore.”

Thunk, thunk, THUNK.

“Thinking about the first time they had met, how she had promised to always be there for her.”

Wait, her? The blade gave no further time for thought as it bore down again with a vengeance and sawed through the thick cabbage.

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM.

“I'm sure she had a good reason.”

“Uh, well . . .”

The loud smacks of metal against cutting board ceased, and the blade stilled. Fluttershy set her tool down and looked at Twilight, her eyes demanding an explenation.

Her eyes . . .

Something hard stared back at her, hidden deep within those softly hue eyes. She knew that look. A torrent of emotions swelled within her, ghosts of the past whirling around an orange farmer and her athletic marefriend. The images of yesterday flickered before her eyes, fantasies of one very jealous unicorn seizing an orange mare, the only one who stood between her joy and despair,by the throat and squeezing until her grip went numb. The delicious, bulging eyes, the pleading look, the almost-musical strained gasps, the stupid, bloodless purple face . . .

I had wanted to strangle Applejack, back then.

“Fluttershy, you were talking about me, weren’t you?”

The pegasus at once retreated her eyes behind a lock of pink mane, and buried her gaze in the vegetable filled bowl.

Twilight sighed. “Look, Fluttershy, it was my fault. It was my idea that Rainbow move into the library and we've been so busy together that we both forgot about Tank. If there’s anyone you should be upset at, it’s me.” Her voice lowered to a colder tone. “And do you remember what I told you back then? I warned you not to get involved with me. I already belonged to someone else.”

“Are you sure?” There was a fire in her voice that Twilight had never heard before.

“Yes, why?”

“I wasn’t talking about . . . ‘us.’”

“Huh?”

Fluttershy looked up, confused, as if not believing her ears. “You mean . . . you really don’t know?”

“I really don’t know what?”

The look that the pegasus gave her almost forced Twilight to take a step back. The unicorn had long read of many case studies of meek, repressed ponies, and all the conclusions were generally the same: beware the wrath of the quiet mare. Yet the look wasn't one of anger, nor rage, nor even jealousy.

It was pity.

“Well howdy there partner! You’re awful cure for a little critter. Is Shy’ home? Well just don’t mind me if I knock. And be a pal and tell that bear friend of yours to stop starin’ at me, will ya?”

The sudden voice flew through the thick mahogany of the front door and shattered the awkward silence in the room. Twilight shot a look towards the entrance. She’d recognize that friendly drawl anywhere.

Angel bunny didn’t bother seeking either her approval, or Fluttershy’s; he bounded over to the door and flung it wide open for the orange mare without a moment’s hesitation. Not so much as a challenge, threatful glance or even an interrogatory glare. It let Twilight know where she stood in the cottage hierarchy.

Applejack poked her head in, a large bucket-full of red, juicy apples perched on her back. “Good morning Fluttershy! I got your usual order right here. Want me to set it in the back? Oh, and is Twilight around? I need to talk with her.”

I need to talk with her. Twilight twitched her tail.

Fluttershy nodded, gaze still hidden, but otherwise didn’t squeak a word.

“What’s the matter hun? You’re quakin’ like a Pinkie Pie in Cider Season.” Applejack stepped through the door and approached the kitchen. “You look like you just saw a ghost, or just had a spat with an ex-lover-er-er-ER! Hey Twi, didn’t see you there!” She shot a screaming glance towards the pegasus.

Twilight’s nose twitched. Fluttershy’s ears sagged. Applejack projected her saggy smile at the pair; if this was her idea of brightening the room, it wasn’t working.

Clearing her throat, Applejack ventured into the minefield, heading first into the living room. Twilight’s eyes followed her progress, unsure whether to welcome her as a savior or lament the addition of another mourner to this funeral procession.

The farm pony paused before the naked tortoise shivering on the floor.

“Whooe!” She bent over and parked her snout inches from Tank. “How’s the feller holdin’ up?”

Twilight opened her mouth . . . but closed it. She looked towards Fluttershy, and Applejack followed suite.

Fluttershy cringed before the unicorn’s silent glare, all traces of the previous anger gone; Twilight might as well have pummeled her with a jackhammer. “He’s . . . fine.”

“. . . Fine . . .” Applejack turned her head to the side and looked back down at the wheezing pet. “You sure? Cause he don’t look ‘fine’ to me.”

“Oh, yes. He just needs some bedrest and some food. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

Applejack glanced at Twilight. “Food?”

Twilight’s ears twitched in alarm.

“Yes,” replied the pegasus, nudging the bowl towards Tank with her snout, “he hasn’t eaten in days.”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to cringe. Of course Fluttershy would have found out, she’s a veterinarian! Pent up frustration could steam out of Fluttershy on occasion, but her trivial fussing paled in comparison to the fiery muscle Applejack packed in her jaw. When the farm pony so willed it, she could unleash an unholy war that only years of stubborn pride could fuel. Twilight flinched; maybe she should clamber under the table before the first accusations fell.

They never came.

Applejack scratched her head. “Is that so?”

Twilight risked peeping open an eye. WHAT?!

“Fluttershy,” the mare continued, speaking to the pegasus but fixing a paralyzing stare unto the unicorn, “Rainbow Dash forgot about him. Didn’t she.” It wasn’t a question

Twilight babbled, Fluttershy nodded.

Applejack sighed. “I was afraid that would happen.”

“Wait, you saw this coming? You were expecting this?” Anxiety quickly gave way to anger. “Are all of you against our relationship?”

Fluttershy shot the farm pony a quizzical look, and Twilight could read the question in her eyes. Everyone?

Applejack raised a hoof. “Simmer down Twi, I didn’t mean that. No one is judging you— either of you.”

“Then what did you mean?”

The farmer didn’t respond. She passed the burden to the pegasus with a glance, but Fluttershy’s eyes dug into the floorboards.

Twilight sighed; she needed answers. “Fluttershy, I’m sorry I got a little angry at you. I shouldn’t have done that. Please tell me what’s going on?”

If her words had any luck penetrating the pegasus’s shell, she didn’t show it. First the floor of her cottage trapped her gaze, then the kitchen, then the tortoise. Sighing, she at last looked up and, looking at Twilight in the eye, began her story.

“Umm, are you sure about this?”

“Sure! It will only take a second, come on you slow poke.”

The blue sky stared down at her, strewn with isolated clouds and decorated by a cheerful sun. It wasn’t cold—the air was chilly at best—for summer still held a faint grasp onto the day, and winter’s breath wouldn’t come for another few months. Somewhere below her, the distant murmur of the town dimmed to a faint whisper, and then shrunk into silence.

A silence that left the town behind and accompanied Fluttershy on her journey into the sky. She still wasn’t sure where Dash was taking her.

“I haven’t seen you around lately . . .” Fluttershy had to strain the muscles in her throat in order to be heard.

Harmless small talk, but it was a step in cracking the pegasus’ shell.

The cyan pegasus didn’t turn around. “Oh. I’ve been around.”

Rainbow Dash led her higher into the sky, flying a little too fast for the slower pegasus to keep up. She passed a solitary cloud, spotting a larger one up ahead that coated the blue ceiling with a smear of grey. Rainbow didn’t seem to veer around it; that was probably their destination.

Watching her cyan body disappear into the thick cloud, Fluttershy found herself floating alone atop of the world. Coming up to this height was a rarity for her; Rainbow, on the other hand, was up here almost every day, practicing her stunts. Or at least, that’s what Fluttershy assumed.

Her blue surroundings were, for the most part, empty; only a few icy clouds spoiled the sunny day.  Dash hadn’t been very clear on why she needed her help shaping the weather today; then again, she hadn't been clear on a lot of things as of late. Like why her friends couldn't find her on most days.

Or why she was spending so much time at the Library.

Pumping her wings, she wandered into the same cloud Rainbow had flown into and emerged above the cloud bank. She found her athletic counterpart waiting for her above the puffy ceiling, tapping a leg impatiently against the soft surface. Behind Dash drifted a cloud, darker and more menacing than the cute, fluffy one that floated beneath her feet.

There was something about this cloud; it wasn’t like the ones Fluttershy usually saw. She braved a few more inches towards uncertainty.

It stood out of place among the blue sky, crackling with a dark energy as lightning-blue tendrils flashed and pulsed along its jagged surface. The renegade thunder-cloud hummed with energy as Fluttershy drew closer, responding to her presence. Stray lightning spewed out as so much poison.

Cold shivers seized Fluttershy’s spine. Did it suddenly get drafty? The warm earth called to her, suggesting she descend back down to its comforting embrace.

But Dash needed her here. Right in front of the big, scary, no-good-it’s-probably-harmless-oh-no-it-isn’t cloud.

Rainbow didn’t seem the least bit intimidated.

“This guy drifted in from the Everfree. Those clouds are a little tricky to disperse. Usually I’d do it all on my own, but this is one nasty piece of work.”

“A-And you want me to, to d-do what?”

Rainbow waved a hoof. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

“Umm . . . okay.”

The cyan pegasus drifted above and below the darkened cloud, studying every angle. At last, she nodded, pointing to a bulbous mass protruding out the far end.

“There! Give it a good kick right there.” She zipped to the opposite end of the cloud, rearing her legs at another portion.

Give it a good kick right there. There, as in the dark, bubbly portion. The dark bubbly portion that might as well have been a gathering place for all things evil. The dark bubbly portion that glared at her as she approached the wispy monster, rumbling in anger. Flickers of strobed lightning cackled and hissed at her presence, daring her to take one more step.

Fluttershy shot a few feet back, longing for the warmth of her closet and a certain teddy bear. “Why?”

Rainbow sighed, and turned to face her. “These Everfree clouds require two ponies. One has to kick the thunder-cloud and empty it of water. That’s you. I’m going to do the same and rebalance the positive and negative electrical charges. After that, we’ll have a regular, harmless cloud.

Fluttershy blinked.“Rebalance the electrical charge?”

“Yeah, rebalance the charges. Lightning happens when they get out of sync. I learned it from . . . nevermind. You ready?”

“I-I don’t know Rainbow . . . don’t you remember last time?”

There was a very good reason why Fluttershy didn't work for the weather team. She couldn’t forget, and no one else could for that matter. An event as horrifying as that wasn’t swept from memory easily, more so considering that it was the only time in the history of Ponyville that rain, hail, and a tornado had coincided with the Midsummer Tomato Festival. Not a pretty picture; not even the higher-ups in Cloudsdale could figure out how Fluttershy had managed to whip up such a disaster.

The official investigation had been brief and to the point. Pegasuses afraid of heights and fond of animals didn’t mix well with storm manufactory, apparently. A quick wave of the bureaucratic hoof, a liability waiver, and Ponyville gained its sole veterinary practitioner.

She still had nightmares about it.

And here stood this cloud, hellish fangs wide open, whispering the mistakes of the past.

Taunting her.

Rainbow couldn’t hear it. “Oh suck it up girl! Sure it was bad. I mean, we’ve never ever had another tomato festival here again. And all the tomato growers fled the country. Remember Sugar Vine? Yeah she was pretty cool . . .”

Her voice trailed off and Rainbow buried her gaze into the horizon. She came back a moment later.

“But I took care of it, remember! Look, I promise nothing will go wrong. If anything does happen, I’ll be here for you, ok? Just like old times.”

“O-Old times?” The old times hadn’t been particularly good.

Without waiting for a response, Rainbow turned around and reared her hind legs again.

Meanwhile, Fluttershy's eyes gravitated back to her chosen mark. It was now or never.

“Okay, h-here goes . . .”

“Awesome! On my mark!”

Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut, and wound her legs up for a kick. Remember flight camp. It was all in the breathing, she had to time her movements. Rainbow was counting on her, and any second now . . .

ONE.

The sharp bark of the command jolted her mind into overdrive. Oh no, I’m not ready, just give me a few more seconds, I promise; Maybe I should beg, no, pleading is better, no, beseeching always does the trick, no wait—

TWO.

I’m sorry! Please Sugar Vine. I won’t ever touch another tomato again I swear.  U-unless Angel asks me for it. Then I can’t really avoid it because, you see, he likes his salads with just a touch of . . .

“Three!”

. . . Because otherwise, he gets very upset. Oh, yes, I know. I’m sorry about the festival. I hope the destruction of your family’s farm didn’t cause too much trouble. Oh, it did? Well, maybe then—

“Fluttershy! NOW.”

—Oh!

Fluttershy lashed out a moment too late, and managed to catch a glimpse of Rainbow’s astonished face just as her hooves connected with the outer edge of the cloud.

Then everything, from the dark cloud to her stunned friend to the surrounding blue expanse, bleached into a harsh white.

What happened next was a blur. Whatever she had kicked into the cloud, it felt like cloud had kicked back a thousand times over. All she knew was that she had left Sunshine world and entered Pain world. White hot sparks leapt into her hind legs and crawled up her spine at dizzying speeds, roasting every bone. Her nerves shriveled and died, failing to gauge the magnitude of the inferno that roared underneath her skin—every cell was on fire.

The whole world spun, and through it all her wings screamed in agony. She tried yelping, shouting, crying, anything, but found no breath in her lungs: the electrical tempest had long robbed her of the necessary air. If she ever had to take a shower inside a lightning storm while riding a toaster, she imagined it would feel something like this.

Something hard and heavy shoved her, and all at once the pain stopped, as if someone had thrown a switch. Fluttershy might have skidded a few feet, drifted a few meters, or plummeted across a universe, she had no way of knowing.

Only silence remained. All of her world fell into a deep abyss, cold and numb.

Then came the air; a cold, merciless air that rushed past her, clawing past her skin and ripping the warmth from her face. All in all it was a vaguely familiar sensation, long buried in memories of flight camp.

Flight camp.

Where had she experienced this before?

Flight camp . . . the pegasus race . . . Rainbow Dash . . . falling . . .

The ground.

Fly.

Fluttershy’s eyes snapped wide open. She couldn't make out anything. The world swirled around her, Ponyville rotating in and out of view several times. Or at least she assumed that the muddy, spiraling smear on the ground was Ponyville. More alarmingly, whatever few clouds that milled about zipped past at a shocking rate. Upwards.

Fly.

She had to fly; it was the difference between life and death. She tried twitching a wing, begging for a response.

Nothing.

She tugged at the useless appendage, her brain screaming instructions at the charred skin. Somehow, though the blistering cold and the howling wind, the faint smell of singed feathers met her nose.

Nothing.

Desperate now, she flexed the other wing. Flexed, tugged, pleaded, twitched, pulled, screamed, bit; losing it all in the wind . . .

Nothing.

Time, whatever little she had left of it, seemed to slow down the world around her. Or did it accelerate? It didn’t matter anymore. The gentle rise of a flock of canaries in the horizon might as well have screamed past at scorching speeds.  The ground far below might as well have reached up and touched her in the eternity it took to reach it.

She closed her eyes. At least it won’t hurt.

“Fluttershy!”

Her eyes snapped open. In that voice lay all of Fluttershy’s hopes, fears, and dreams; her very life now depended on Rainbow Dash, and her promise.

If anything does happen, I’ll be there for you. Just like old times.

The pegasus burst into view, rising with the sun, the only discernable object in the sky. Everything else was just a blur. Head tucked low, wings angle back, and with a fierce determination in her eyes, her savior began a sharp descent to meet her. But there was something else in those eyes, hidden behind proud magenta walls. Something that wasn’t usually there.

Fluttershy could have sworn that Dash looked . . . scared?

“Hang on!”

For a moment, Dash made progress. Screaming through the air, the pegasus bolted after her, and the pegasus’ face soon replaced everything else in Fluttershy’s eyes. Any moment now, a cyan hoof would reach out and pull her back to safety. Just like old times.

Fluttershy held out her hoof as Rainbow extended hers and . . and . . .

Something was wrong.

Rainbow panted and wheezed, her face colored bright red. Heavy sweat rocketed past her face, lost in the wind, as a panic look crept into her eyes. She held out her hoof, wiggling it in frustration at the canary pegasus who lay just out of reach.

Fluttershy groped back, but to no avail. “I can’t reach!”

Rainbow didn’t respond. Maybe she hadn’t heard her.

“I can’t reach!”

Rainbow swung her hooves now, taking wild swipes at Fluttershy’s arm. “Dammit!”

The uneven jittering affected her stability, and Rainbow began to wobble in her flight. Yet she continued to ignore it, grappling at the crippled pegasus with her hooves even as the dangerous air currents threatened to rip her out of the sky.

Watching her friend exhaust herself against the wind, Fluttershy gasped. She can’t fly fast enough.

As if to seal her fate, one errant gust of wind slammed into Rainbow’s chest and flung her away despite her best efforts. Rainbow tumbled and see-sawed off into the sky, away from Fluttershy. In those split seconds before Fluttershy lost all hope, their eyes connected for a fleeting moment.

An entire lifetime passed between that look. From the look in her eyes, she saw pain, frustration and anger; she saw Cloudsdale, Flight Camp and a certain unicorn. In those eyes she saw a rage against the cruel fate that awaited her on the ground, and she knew that Dash would do anything, everything, to reach out and pull her back from the void.

But she couldn’t.

Fluttershy gave a solemn nod. “It’s ok.” She could see Rainbow mouth a shocked ‘no.’

The moment past just as quickly as it had come, and Rainbow tumbled away into obscurity.

Fluttershy didn’t utter a word. She fell in silence in her solitary plummet to the ground below, only hoping that someone would be there to look after her friends.

Meanwhile the world spun faster and faster, screaming an ever higher pitch into her ears, clawing at her brain . . .

. . .

. . .

POOF.

And then silence. An eternity might have slipped by, and Fluttershy wouldn't have noticed. Where am I? Wherever she was, the only thing for certain was that it was soft. Very soft, like her bed back home. The familiar feeling came back, tickling the back of her mind. This was all very familiar.

Am I dead?

Then, an answer came from the darkness.

ARE YOU OKAY.

Well, okay, maybe not the answer she was looking for. Princess Celestia? Does she greet you in the afterlife? Why does she sound upset?

TALK TO ME.

You don’t sound like Princess Celestia. She has much gentler voice. You remind me of a friend of mine . . .

“F-Fluttershy, p-please.”

The pegasus snapped her eyes open, and saw Rainbow leaning over her, analyzing every feature of her face with panicked eyes.

Rainbow’s lips moved, but Fluttershy couldn’t hear her. Turning her head to the side, she saw the lightest hue of white blurring the edge of her vision. She sat up, brushing Rainbow away from her hooves, and looked around. The same cloud she had passed by earlier when following Rainbow lay beneath her; it must have caught her. She didn’t feel very lucky.

Ponyville sat farther below her anchor in the sky, still far away.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.”

Fluttershy turned around, and saw Rainbow clutching her stomach, bloodshot eyes staring into the cloud as she rocked back and forth. She extended a hoof and touched her shoulder.

“Rainbow?”

“I couldn’t catch you.”

“I’m fine. Rainbow? Rainbow look at me.”

“FLUTTERSHY I ALMOST GOT YOU KILLED.”

“Rainbow look at me, please?”

Rainbow’s head swiveled toward her, her magenta eyes a bloody red mixture of fear, shame and nerves.

Fluttershy took a big breath. “I’m fine.”

“. . . You sure?”

“Yes.”

“. . .”

“. . .”

“. . . Don't tell Twilight.”

"What?"

“Don't tell Twi. Please.”

And with that, Rainbow bolted off, leaving behind a barren sky and a bewildered pegasus.

“She later told me that she hasn’t practiced her flying in months,” Fluttershy concluded.

Twilight gulped back a lump.“So?”

Applejack’s jaw dropped. “So? Your marefriend almost gets Fluttershy killed and that’s all ya got to say? Hun, are ya hearing yourself? Look sugar, I know Dash—”

“And I don't?”

“I wasn’t saying that. What I meant was that I’ve been with Dash for years. That girl’s always practicing for her chance at the big time. She wouldn’t give up the Wonderbolts for anything, or anyone for that matter.”

Fluttershy risked a step forward. “Aren’t you worried that she hasn’t been practicing?”

Twilight fidgeted. “Well, no. Yes. I haven’t . . . I don’t know. She never told me.”

Fluttershy looked as if she was going to say something, but hesitated. The pegasus sought comfort in the farmer’s eyes, who nodded. “It’s something we, all of us, have been noticing for awhile. She hasn’t been acting herself lately,” Applejack said.

The lump in her throat returned, clogging Twilight’s windpipe and forcing a nervous chortle out of her.“What do you mean?”

“She’s no longer practicing her flying, almost got our friend killed,” Applejack started pacing across the living room, “and putting this poor feller in danger?” she said, nodding towards Tank.

“Oh no, tortoises can actually go months without eating. He just needs some rest, that’s all,” Fluttershy added.

“Regardless, something doesn’t add up. You’ve got to admit it Twi.”

The unicorn shambled over to the window and sat down, clutching her head with her hooves. Forgetting Tank was one thing, but now this? How far did the rabbit hole go? The room seemed to shrink, and thinking hurt. Fluttershy’s story swirled around her, absorbing every thought. She almost didn’t hear Applejack’s next statement.

“We’re worried about her Twilight.”

“Me too.”

“What was that sugarcube?”

“Me too,” Twilight repeated, looking out the window.

Out there, just beyond the horizon, a blue pegasus carved out a unicorn shaped figure amongst the clouds.