Learning to Soar

“Pa died.”

That was all the young colt could say when he returned from the dark depths of the Everfree Forest. Big McIntosh’s coat, bloodied and matted, dripped a trail of oozing red liquid behind him as he stepped into view.

The shameful part? None of the blood belonged to him.

Applejack regarded him grimly from the front porch and watched as he emerged out of the apple groves. Sitting idly on her hindquarters, she said nothing and only moved to motion him over with a flourish. At her command, Mac obeyed willingly, dragging his exhausted body toward her.

 Once he was a hare’s breadth away, Big Mac stopped just short of the deck. Even through his clouded thoughts, he could practically hear Granny Smith lecturing his etiquette in his head, going on and on for hours about not tracking mud—or blood, as it was—onto the terrace. Boy, she would have a fit, complaining how grueling it was to wash out that noticeable stench and appearance off the wood’s usual buff surface.

His effort to dish out a small smile nearly made him topple to the ground had he not been staring intently into Applejack’s countenance to watch her reaction to the news. Instead of a smile, the edges of his lips continued to point downwards and finally settled into a cross between a grimace and a frown. Like hay Granny Smith would be more concerned about the flooring when her son’s death had recently come to pass, he thought as he pushed the matter aside.

To his surprise, his little sister’s expression remained schooled, like Pa dying was natural. It was natural for ponies to pass away—expected even, but how could she handle it so darned easy? If it was he who had just been given the news, Big McIntosh was sure he would have been in shambles by then, beating on the ground in anger and frustration at the unkind fate of which had befallen his father. Was it really fate, though? Or was it just because of a useless son? Big Mac couldn’t help but wonder.

 He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts before instantaneously being cut off by Applejack’s sudden question. “What happened?”

Big McIntosh felt himself exhale sharply. How blunt. Still, it was a response that was expected from his little sister. Tired, and with a heavy heart, he illustrated it with a wary clamp on graphic descriptions. “It was bad,” he started.

...

He had tried, with unreserved desperation, to drag his father back home. Shoving, begging—even threatening had not worked.

Riddled with multiple bite and claw marks, Pa had simply laid there on the bloodied soil and let his life slowly seep away as he blatantly ignored Big McIntosh’s frantic requests to get up. His limbs hung uselessly to the side, and he breathed shallow and jagged breaths while Big Mac shook his father’s limp body as if the effort would magically cure him. The young colt forcefully bit back the horror that came with every bloodstain splashing on his already-red coat.

The timberwolves had done a number on him, that’s what. But Pa had warded them off, knowing full well of the danger he placed himself in. Pa may have fought the losing battle, but he did what a father should have done, and that was all that mattered to the frightened colt. This amazing feat alone was even enough to gain his undying loyalty—and yet that heartfelt devotion didn’t seem to be able to make his hero undying himself. Pa was undoubtedly the opposite of undying at that moment.

“Pa! You have to get up!” Big Mac continued to fruitlessly shake his father’s side. He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face as the injured stallion’s breathing slowed to a soft wheeze. “Please, Pa!”

Through clenched teeth, all Pa did was whisper in a quiet, strangled voice, “Get yourself home. There ain’t no savin’ me now, Mac.” And then he grew silent. His eyes were already starting to become glassy.

...

Applejack breathed a sharp intake of breath as her brother quoted their father. Still, she did not react, seeming to rank staying silent higher than speaking. The filly looked like she was mulling through the situation’s events slowly, bit by bit. Though her eyes were carefully shielded from Big McIntosh’s view, he could plainly see—no, feel— a tinge of disturbance radiating from her, which was why he immediately regretted saying his next impulsive words.

“...Pa died,” Big McIntosh said once more to the filly before him, and then whispered a soft “I’m sorry” as an afterthought. He hung his head, feeling the shameful emotions of which he had already experienced on the frenzied run back home.

“I—I’m fine.” She waved him off. Almost as if to back up her point, her tearless face hadn’t indicated any sort of emotional turmoil, save for the sad, wispy eyes and deep frown etched onto her features.

At this point, Big Mac could barely contain his curiosity. Had she been taught to maintain her emotions during the days he and Pa were out, or was her lack of empathy the cause of some other reason? If that was so, Mac wondered what terrible calamity would have shaken her up that badly. Then again, grief was pretty much flogging any sort of common sense he had at the moment—for a very good reason, too!—and he really couldn’t get to the bottom of his inquiries without questioning her directly, though he thought she probably wouldn’t want somepony to just nose in her business in such a manner.

Besides, he shrugged, if it involved him, Applejack would surely let him know in due time.

Then he cautiously took a seat beside her and, turning to his little sister, spoke gently. “You’re actin’ awfully strong today, sis. I’m proud of you and all, but...it’s fine to cry once in a while. ‘Cause sometimes problems are too much for one pony to handle themselves, y’know.”

 “I reckon I’m...too tired to cry.” Applejack finally sighed, and a second passed before she deigned to speak again. “Ma...she died a while back.” The filly glanced over at the surprised expression on Big McIntosh’s face and simply forged on, cutting off the questions bubbling at the tip of his tongue. “Soon as she found out the two of you were in the Everfree lookin’ for a cure for her, she done bolted out of bed in the night to find y’all. An’ it was durin’ a thunderstorm, too.” Then she paused, her face darkening. “You remember how Pa always told us to stay away from trees so we don’t get struck by lightning, right?”

“Yeah, it’s ‘cause trees conduct lightning,” Big Mac ventured. “Why?”

Applejack was ominously silent. For a split second there, Mac could have sworn he saw tears brimming on the edges of her eyes as she turned away.

Did that mean...? “No...no...that...” He trailed off, not daring to finish his thought.

“Ma was struck by lightning,” she finally said. “When I heard her sneakin’ out, I came with her to find y’all. I tried to stop her for a while, but Ma wouldn’t budge and told me to go home, sayin’ it was dangerous for a filly like me out in the woods. I wanted to say it was dangerous for her too, but I just couldn’t find the words to, y’know?” It almost sounded like she was choking on the words coming out of her mouth, rushing her words and slurring a few lines as if she wanted to get the explanation over and done with.

Big McIntosh nodded. “I didn’t want Pa goin’ out to the Everfree either. I knew he was doin’ it for Ma, but...”

“She was out there for Pa. And you.” Applejack absently wiped away her stray tears. “Then she started gettin’ tired and finally listened to my advice for once.” She paused and winced as if being force-fed bitter leaves. “We were just turnin’ back when the timberwolves came.”

The colt shuddered. His recent experience with the beasts hadn’t been pleasant, and the thought of Applejack meeting those bloodthirsty fiends did nothing to quell the sinking feeling in his stomach. “An’ then what?”

“What else? I did what I could,” she said. “I fought them.”

...

In his mind’s eye, Big McIntosh imagined his little sister fighting off a horde of monsters, standing protectively in front of their mother as to not let them inflict any pain upon the weakened older mare. Though Ma was pretty strong herself, she had recently birthed baby Apple Bloom, and it was from the birth process itself that had taken a huge toll on her physical health. It had been the main reason Pa overexerted himself to find his friend in the Everfree Forest to get medicine, and the source of all-things horrible happening to the two siblings’ mental state.

“Hyah!” Applejack lunged forward and caught the pack’s leader in the face, plunging the sharp branch into its exposed glowing green eye.

He could picture the way the wolf had yowled in pain, and how Applejack had turned away to engage the other beasts, not having time to savor the temporary victory. She bucked them like nopony’s business and landed each of them two hind legs to the chest, silently thanking Celestia with every felled enemy. There were beads of sweat running down her face as she desperately guarded her mother with the measly stick, her sweat dripping in both jarringly terrified and determined drops.

Eventually, the two had been cornered. Their mother, Applejack described, was huddled up with her back against the thick tree behind them, yelling for Applejack to come to her “for safety.”

“Applejack!” Ma pleaded. “Please! You don’t have to do this for me!”

Applejack hadn’t spared a look back and simply crouched into the fighting position that she’d always used when playfighting against her big brother. Who would have figured it would be used in a real fight? “Shh,” Applejack tiredly wheezed through the branch gripped tightly in her jaws. “I ain’t gonna die today, Ma.”

Fate was probably feeling cruel that day. As soon as she had said that, a bolt of lightning zipped down from the sky and flashed behind her, lighting up the exact place their mother was standing moments before.

“Ma!”

But Applejack’s alarmed shout had only reached deaf ears—the deed was already done. The little filly could only numbly look back at the charred remains of what used to be her Ma, tears welling at the gruesome sight. The pony she was fighting so hard to protect had been killed by the protection itself. What horrible irony.

...

“Ma!” His little sister’s cry echoed in Big Mac’s head, over and over and over again. He resisted the urge to keel over and break down like the weak pony he was. Just listening to his little sister’s account made him want to hurl the contents of his stomach—which probably wasn’t much— onto the terrace.

“The tree conducted the lightning to Ma,” Applejack said beside him, remaining as motionless and stiff as a rock. When Big McIntosh turned to her for comforting, he discovered that her face held a very sharp edge to it, like the little farmpony was forcefully holding back tears. Maybe she was.

Big McIntosh dropped the hoof he was subconsciously raising to clasp on Applejack’s shoulder. It was a natural reflex that he’d made a habit of doing when he knew his little sister was down, just like during the times when Applejack would accidentally make a mistake and silently beat herself up over it, no matter how big or small the mistake happened to be. Though, his hoof was a little too bloody to be used as a comforting device at the moment, he decided. “What about the timberwolves? What happened to ‘em after Ma...died?”

“Scared by the lightning. After them varmints ran away, I brought Ma back home and buried her like Pa would’ve wanted.”

This would be the first (and certainly not the last) time he had ever seen her expression so devoid of any sort of emotion. Young’uns weren’t supposed to have eyes that spoke of deep sorrow, or reasons to shut themselves up tight in the dark, gruesome fields of their minds. Applejack had good causes for both.

 And that genuinely scared him.

In that moment, Big McIntosh could feel his life crashing down on him.

           .............................................................................................................................

Rainbow Dash restlessly twisted and coiled around in her sleep that night.

Incoherent thoughts of anguish swirled around in her agitated head, and she had unknowingly rolled off her—or rather, Applejack’s—bed in a fit of murmured whimpering. She landed right next to Applejack’s sleeping form on her makeshift bed of hay and unwittingly shocked the dozing farmpony awake. Miraculously, Rainbow Dash hadn’t stirred at all during her fall and had only managed a weak “oof” at the landing before going back to her terror-filled tossing and turning, occasionally sighing bits and pieces of words. “Stop...arrgh...live, damn it...Apple...jack...”

If she had been conscious at all, she’d have surely been frowning profusely and silently chiding herself to not do embarrassing things around her caretaker like that.

What she would not realize until morning was that the orange filly made no attempt to push her away (Rainbow Dash did, after all, invade her personal space) and instead wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer—presumably to warm the pegasus up, of course.

 Rainbow Dash hadn’t even heard her when Applejack mumbled breathlessly, “It’s alright. Sleep; I’ve got you.”

As Rainbow Dash’s mind eased to a calming point, everything became right again.

...

Hours later, at dawn, the two fillies were awakened by the sound of a crowing rooster. The rapid “cocka-doodle-doo”s resonated throughout the farm every single day to wake the sleeping Apple family—plus one!—and frankly, Rainbow Dash hadn’t ever gotten used to that part of staying at Sweet Apple Acres. She was fine with the intense applebucking, seasonal field-plowing, and even the amusing art of apple selling, but waking up early? She didn’t get that at all.

Which was why she rolled over and grumbled, “Shut up.” Naturally, Rainbow Dash was never an early riser and preferred the late rays of sun from the afternoon light. She was a lazy and carefree pony at heart, after all. Being surrounded by hardworkers did little to ease that lazy streak.

The rooster quieted a moment later.

To her right, Applejack let out a tired yawn and shifted in the hay. “Whuh...? Rainbow...what are you doin’ on my bed...?” Evidently, she was not perturbed by the relentless rays of sunshine protruding through the glass window and was more concerned about a warm body lying beside her.

Talk about low priorities, Rainbow Dash thought. She refused to open her eyes at the sound of her bedmate’s obvious confusion and deigned to mutter in an irritable voice, “Just go back to sleep, AJ.”

Due to not being conscious for the better half of the previous night, Rainbow Dash herself had no clue as to why she was currently sprawled on Applejack’s makeshift hay bed either, and she wasn’t really awake enough to actually care. In her opinion, it was too early and too comfortable for any sort of coherent thought at the moment. Without quite realizing it, she reflexively reached out and gripped the other filly in a tight bearhug, wrapping both arms around Applejack’s suddenly-stiff shoulders and ignored the slight twitch that came from the farmpony at her sudden touch.

 That simple movement felt so familiar and reassuring that she had a sneaking suspicion that something like that had happened in the night. The thought of unconsciously cuddling her best friend in the dark brought an uncomfortable feeling to her chest. She swallowed, hoping Applejack hadn’t felt her heartbeat quicken.

The hay crinkled softly as Applejack writhed in an attempt to disentangle herself from underneath Rainbow Dash. When that method failed, the farmpony opted to relax into her embrace instead, breathing a sigh torn between contentment and aggravation. “...Hey,” she growled quietly. “If you’re gonna stay like this all mornin’, the least you can do is let me breathe.”

“Heh, sorry.” Rainbow Dash’s hold slackened.

“It’s a good thing today’s our day off, RD. Otherwise I would’ve...”

When Rainbow Dash finally opened her eyes to inquire about the farmpony’s unfinished threat, she found that Applejack was already sound asleep, face relaxed into a softer and innocent expression, completely opposite of the midly-intimidating tone she was using a few minutes ago. She sighed. “So you were more tired than me after all. Maybe you shouldn’t do that anymore—hide your true feelings from others, I mean. We’re practically family, AJ. If you can’t trust yourself, trust your family.”

Rainbow Dash wasn’t quite sure if the farmpony had heard her until Applejack said, with her eyes still firmly shut tight, “I know.”

“...Good, ‘cause you should explain what I meant later...I didn’t understand a single word of it,” she yawned. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash felt the hay shift again. Only, it wasn’t because Applejack was moving to push her away. Instead, she looked over to find that the farmpony was quietly shaking in laughter. Without releasing her grasp around her companion, Rainbow Dash raised a curious eyebrow.“Something funny, AJ?”

Applejack stilled, though the broad smile was still plastered on her face. “I was jus’ thinkin’.”

“About?”

“Well, since you were so afraid last night, I figured I would have to take care of you in the morning. Then you went and turned the tables on me.” She shrugged dismissively, though it was a little difficult to do so with the extra weight pinning her down.

 Rainbow Dash slowly freed her hug enough to still have one arm around Applejack’s shoulder and moved the other to prop herself on her elbow. This way, they lay face to face and were only a few centimeters away from actually brushing noses.

As she opened her mouth to speak, she tried not to think about the closeness between them, or about how Applejack’s surprisingly-fresh breath was hot on her face, or even about how the farmpony’s attention was fully rapt on her every movement. It was a little too early for those kinds of shenanigans anyway, and she felt groggy enough to not want reasons to warrant embarrassment. Still, she felt her face flush. “That story you told me a while ago—the one about how your parents died—it gave me nightmares.”

“Sorry.”

The earnest sincerity in Applejack’s voice with that one word nearly made Rainbow Dash want to nod and accept the apology, but she refrained from doing so and pressed on with a huge effort.  “But that’s just it, Applejack. It only gave me nightmares. What about you? You were there. It must have been terrifying.“

“It was scary,” Applejack admitted. “But I think I’m gettin’ over it. My family’s helpin’ me out a lot.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“...AJ?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to sleep.”

“Mm.”

When Applejack raised her arm over Rainbow Dash’s to pull her nearer and fiercely return the hug, it was then that the pegasus realized how thankful she was for her unexpected (yet warming) family. It may not have been as carefree and colorful as her old life with her parents in Cloudsdale, but it was just right.

This was the ideal family—or, at least, it was her ideal family, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Besides, it felt a little better to just thank her best friend with actions rather than words.

For the first time that month, Rainbow Dash drifted off to tranquility.

           .............................................................................................................................

“...know how to do it! Just gimme a second to practice!”

A fiery maned pony winced as a crash echoed soon after, followed by a yelp of pain.

“Ooh, sounds painful,” Spitfire grunted to herself with a small smile. She sat perched on a high tree branch, listening in on the action below; her body crouched in a half-relaxed half-stiff position in case a fast escape was needed. Though the view was mainly obstructed by the many leaves and branches hanging beneath her form, she could tell just by hearing the thuds and cries of frustration that somepony down there was having a hard time. And by somepony, she meant Rainbow Dash.

And to think that just the thought of the blue pegasus being not-dead could bring a giddy smile to her face.

“Dash,” an amused voice said. “Applebucking may look easy, but it ain’t. Here, lemme show it to you again.”

Thud. The tree nearby shuddered and shook as Spitfire heard something drop. Probably an apple, judging by the loud chomp that it resulted in. “Anf thas how ya do it!” The muffled voice triumphantly called.

“Applejack...” Rainbow Dash groaned. “Stop showing off.”

Evidently, the object in the other pony’s mouth was removed as clear, peal laughter reached Spitfire’s ears. “That sounds kinda funny comin’ from you,” the accented voice continued. “You’re probably the definition of showoff.”

Applejack, was it? Spitfire struggled to contain her own sniggers as Rainbow Dash spouted a sarcastic “ha ha” in response.

Three months. It’d been three months since Rainbow Dash’s “death.” It had taken Spitfire a whole month of searching high and low in Ponyville just to sigh dejectedly and call it quits after weeks of no results. In fact, she had just been trudging past Sweet Apple Acres (which was on the edge of town and, admittedly, the only place she’d automatically skipped, deeming Rainbow Dash to be the non-rustic type) when a loud “oof!” floated past her ears.

She had briefly stopped to wonder if somepony needed her help when another voice growled, “Careful there, Dash. Wouldn’t want you to split your noggin again.“

“I didn’tbreak my head that time,” a familiar voice had whined. “I only fell...from hundreds of feet up. From Cloudsdale.”

Dash? Rainbow Dash?! Spitfire’s mind had gone on autopilot to quickly connect the dots. Rainbow Dash was there? Then, when her conclusions were drawn and solutions hastily planned, she had felt her body automatically surge forward and off her original course to pursue a stealthier route—high up in the air, straight towards the nearest apple tree.

...And so, that was how Spitfire, proud team leader of Cloudsdale’s flight school, was reduced to hiding at the very peak of an apple tree just to eavesdrop. She grimaced at the thought of her earlier impulsiveness and, with a quick frown, shrugged it off as if it were nothing. Oh well. It could’ve gone worse.

At the very least, she had found the pegasus relatively unharmed and...well, if Rainbow Dash was going to continue trying to knock that tree over, she may as well have been marked “injured” in her books.

She forcefully shifted her attention to the present as Applejack sighed, forcing the blue pegasus to temporarily halt in her pounding of the tree. “Today’s our day off, ain’t it? Why’re we out here buckin’ trees?”

“I want to learn!” Rainbow Dash immediately bit back. Her tone softened as she seemed to realize how harsh she was sounding. “I just...sorry.”

Spitfire couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her sudden apology. In the short time that she’d known the pegasus, she hadn’t ever heard so much as an ‘excuse me’ from her, much less a genuine ‘I’m sorry.’ She didn’t have long to ponder the Rainbow Dash’s utmost sincerity and trust toward the stranger—Applejack—since the two fillies were already pulling away from the apple groves.

Trying not to let out an exasperated cry, Spitfire quietly scurried after them, jumping from branch to branch and using her wings to soften each landing. “Just stay in one place,” she angrily muttered as she was led toward the general direction of a nearby hilltop. What exactly were those two ponies planning to do there? Roll down?

Once the trail of trees ended, she relented in her pursuit and deigned to watch from afar, shielded from sight in the brambles of the apple trees. She softly pushed aside a thin branch to reveal a clear view of Applejack sitting on the grassy outcrops while Rainbow Dash stood a few meters away, speaking words that Spitfire could not hear from the distance. Her expression was nearly unreadable.

Applejack patiently waited for her to finish before saying something that made Rainbow Dash slowly trot over and sit alongside her. After a brief moment of fleeting silence as the pegasus settled into her spot, Applejack said something else, earning herself a dubious expression from said company.

To this, the orange pony straightened and haughtily huff out a reply.

Rainbow Dash’s ears flattened against her head as she seemed to be at a loss for words. Was that a “thank you” coming out of her mouth? Spitfire never thought of herself as a master lipreader, but it seriously looked like it.

Applejack smiled and said something else, causing Rainbow Dash to return the smile with her own.

What the hay were they talking about? She itched to bolt out of her hiding place and demand answers. Sadly, she wasn’t in the mood to be labeled a stalker and thus kept a lid on it. When was it ever a good time to appear out of nowhere and say, ‘Hey, I was just watching you from those apple trees over there and could you speak a little louder so I could hear you? Maybe even repeat a few of your lines too? ‘Kay thanks.’

Confused as she was, Spitfire made no move to come through with her morbid plan.

Needless to say, she only stared.

Rainbow Dash was standing again, the only difference being the fact that Applejack was by her side. They stood at the very edge of the hill overlooking the entire farm, beneath the clear blue sky and in the rays of the afternoon sun. The gentle wind tousled their manes a bit, carrying away the words floating out of their mouths as the fillies softly conversed.

Spitfire could only gawk in miserable silence as she wished to know what they were saying to each other. Was it too much to ask, for just one moment, to have the comprehension that was needed to understand the situation? Or maybe, she sighed, just one little bit of dialogue to go by and make conclusions out of?

She gasped slightly as Rainbow Dash shot her companion a grin and jumped from the hill, extending her wings to a movement that Spitfire knew very well from her beginner’s class at flight school: a glide.

Applejack grinned back and yelled, “Now, while you’re floating! Move your wings! Not too fast! ...Not too slow either!”

Spitfire’s look of awe as Rainbow Dash followed her commands didn’t compare at all to the look of joy gracing the blue pegasus' face herself as she steadily gained distance from the ground, flitting upwards instead of downwards. Her iridescent mane shone in the afternoon sunlight, inadvertently creating a picturesque scene. “AJ, I’m flying!” she called.

And as quickly as that joy had come, it faded as Rainbow Dash was suddenly struck by strong winds. The gusts fought for control, the tendrils of air continuing to push her backwards until the pegasus started to plummet.

Spitfire gritted her teeth as she heard Rainbow Dash’s inherent yelling and remained rooted to the spot, determined not to blow her cover.

Luckily for her, Applejack was already on the move. “Hold on, RD!” She raced to the side of the hill where the pegasus was freefalling, diving to break Rainbow Dash’s fall. With a thud and a pained “ow,” Rainbow Dash landed squarely across her best friend’s back, forming a blue-and-orange plus sign with the literal addition of her own body. For a moment, everything was deathly still, their eyes locked together as if in a trance.

Spitfire breathed an audible sigh of relief as they burst into laughter a split second later, melting away the building tension. Suddenly, she became fully aware of the fact that they were a little too close to her location—meaning she could actually understand what they were saying.

“Didya see me? I was flying!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, raising her hooves excitedly. She didn’t seem to realize that her own body was draped across Applejack’s lone form. “That was awesome!”

Applejack cheerfully returned the enthusiasm twofold. “Yeah, I’ve never really seen many pegasi my age flyin’ around before. What was it like?”

“Like...I dunno, feeling free or something, I guess.”

The farmpony quirked an eyebrow at the simple response. “Maybe I should ask you that question again tomorrow morning—when you’re half-asleep.” She grinned. “An’ smarter.”

“Joke’s on you, AJ,” Rainbow Dash breezed. “Now I have an excuse to sleep on your bed again.”

“Now, who says I don’t enjoy bein’ in your company...?”

Spitfire abruptly turned away, feeling like an intruder. The two obviously had formed some sort of close bond over the last three months—there was nothing odd about that. There was just something intimate about the way they interacted that had felt sincerely off-limits to outsiders.

As she took a careful step backwards, she spotted movement on the edges of her vision and turned her whole body to face it. What she saw was—“Fluttershy?” she whispered.

The yellow pegasus quietly nodded her affirmation and shyly raised a hoof to indicate silence. Then she turned and floated off her nearby branch with ease, heading away toward Spitfire’s intended direction.  The fiery maned pony followed after her, berating herself for not noticing her friend’s presence earlier. She supposed the fault was in the fact that she’d been too engrossed in Rainbow Dash and her best friend’s exchange that she had subsequently forgotten to actually focus on anything other than the pair of fillies in front. Her face burned at the thought of intruding on their private lives in such a manner.

They silently passed through the apple orchards and had been following another dirt road before Spitfire stopped, recognizing the outbreak of green forest greeting them at the end. “Fluttershy, wait!” she called to the filly walking a few meters ahead of her. “This road leads to the Everfree Forest!”

Fluttershy halted, squeaking out a small “eep!”

This small disturbance allowed Spitfire to catch up. When she pulled up next to her friend, she couldn’t help but sigh at Fluttershy’s terrified expression. “We don’t really have anywhere to go,” she said, keeping her voice even. “So—“

“I-I have a cottage near here, s-so we could go there if we wanted,” Fluttershy hurriedly cut in. “A-actually, it used to be my parents’ but they aren’t alive anymore so I think it’s okay.“

Now Spitfire was perturbed.  “You’re an orphan too?” Her mind was spinning in circles as she processed the new information. She frowned.  “Why was I never told?”

“You, um, never exactly asked,” Fluttershy timidly answered. As if to avoid any more talk, she lightly reached out and pulled Spitfire’s arm to her body, gently guiding her off the road and to the right. “L-let’s go.”

Spitfire looked from her arm to the pegasus pulling on it, eyes slowly darting back and forth between the two before being veered off course.

They walked along the edge of the Everfree Forest for a while before the yellow pegasus actually let go of her arm. Spitfire distinctly remembered Fluttershy mumbling something about the cottage being near the forest and figured that may have been the only reason for her not being led directly away from the creepy-looking shroud of endless trees. Without a road or path to follow, Spitfire was starting to feel a little anxious—and lost. Despite that feeling, she only had to look over at Fluttershy’s determined expression to be reminded of the faith she had in her friend’s sense of direction.

Eventually, though, treading on nothing but grass and gravel for more than an hour paid off when they were met with an unusually narrow dirt road. It haphazardly began in the middle of the grass, like a sidewalk that was not meant to be discovered by random onlookers. A sharp glance in the distance confirmed Fluttershy’s earlier claim; the home awaiting them on the end of the path was definitely a cottage.

As Spitfire shoved open the creaky front door, she tried not to notice the dust billowing from the edges of the gate; though she was evidently unsuccessful due to some of the said dust collecting at the back of her throat and forcing her to let out loud coughs. She didn’t need to glance down to know that her hooves were probably caked in grime.

Scanning over the inside of the cottage, Spitfire could see that everything was covered with a thin film of dust—everything but the oversized couch in the corner, which she automatically assumed was Fluttershy’s temporary bed. She immediately trotted over to it and sat down without a moment’s hesitation, letting her tired joints relax and unwind. Fluttershy followed suit a moment later, quietly sitting beside her on the couch. “Hey Fluttershy,” Spitfire said between muffled coughs and tired wheezing. “How long have you been staying here?”

“I, um, kind of left the same time as you.” She spotted Spitfire’s surprised expression and returned it with a look of horror. ”I-I didn’t jump!” she insisted. “Not like you or Rainbow Dash. I...I took a chariot.”

“Sensible enough,” Spitfire duly noted, and leaned over, giving Fluttershy a sideways look. “There was an alternative to falling from Cloudsdale to Ponyville? Shocking. I thought everypony had to take a dive every once in a while.”

Her gaze lingered over the dusty photo frames sitting atop the fireplace. The photos heralded the images of a happy mare and a stallion, complete with a small yellow pegasus wedged between them in each and every shot. Those were just snapshots from their everyday life, and Spitfire had to wonder—what could’ve happened to split this serene little world of theirs?

The only thing her mind answered with was death. “Why?” she questioned aloud.

“Why what?” Her question was answered with Fluttershy’s confused response.

Spitfire gestured to the picture frames on the fireplace, brow furrowed. “Why did you end up like this?”

There was silence as she felt Fluttershy thinking up a reply.

And then, without missing a beat, the yellow pegasus spoke, eyes shining with pride as she went on an uncharacteristically long and rushed tangent. “My parents had weak hearts, you know. They couldn’t really do anything that had to do with straining themselves—but they didn’t care. Every day, they would take me for adventure after adventure—we went hiking up mountains, talked to animals, and even explored huge forests with monsters that were scary at first but were very friendly when I got to know them.” The monologue was cut to a screeching halt as Fluttershy took a deep breath to ease the onslaught of hasty words, her voice creeping back to its shy and slow sentences as she finished in her normal tone. “Until finally, their hearts couldn’t take it. They died, and I was sent back to Cloudsdale, where I was born, to stay with my uncle and aunt.”

Not expecting her friend’s change in attitude, Spitfire hadn’t realized she was openly gaping until Fluttershy made a noise of unease in the back of her throat. She quickly gathered her wits and said, “Are you happy with your aunt and uncle?”

“Oh yes,” Fluttershy softly agreed, as if she hadn’t just spent the last few minutes pouring out her life story. “They’re very nice.”

“That’s good,” Spitfire yawned, her eyes fluttering shut. “I hope it stays good.”

The couch slightly squeaked on the wooden floorboards as Fluttershy finally settled into a laying position. “Me too,” she whispered.