The Kind Heart and the Liarby xaraChaptersThe LetterThe Letter, pt. 2The Letter, pt. 3The Letter, pt. 4The LetterYour muscles ached a bit as the last portion of your long walk ended and the campsite you'd be using came into view. Your packs had grown heavy; you didn't want to admit it at first, but skipping the second campground probably hadn't been the best idea. Still, you wanted to see this place sooner rather than later, and your companion hadn't objected to the change of plan. She walked alongside you, similarly laden with supplies, and was apparently just as grateful to have arrived as you were. The familiar surge of magic grew in your horn and the buckles and clasps securing the packs atop you opened and slipped aside, allowing you to gently drop your burden on the ground. Your friend stood still as you turned towards her, letting you repeat the action so she didn't have to fuss with her packs. You smiled at her, but she looked away. Okay. You hoped the scenery would do some good during the few days you'd be staying. Out from your pack came a tent, roomy enough for two ponies to share comfortably. You levitated it towards a likely patch of ground - clear of stones, you hoped - and unfolded the contraption. Metal poles joined together to form a sturdy backbone over which the canvas draped. Long stakes accepted the pounding of your hoof as they sank into the ground, the ropes connected to them would keep the tent from falling over from the wind that blows up here. That task done, your friend came closer, carrying your two sleeping bags which she tossed through the open flap of the tent. You stood there together for a moment; you'd caught a glimpse of the rainbows that gleamed nearby. It reminded you of Dash, though there were far more trails in that place than she normally leaves behind, and you couldn't help but smile again. The sun was going down, but you knew there was still a good hour or so left of useful daylight. "Want to gather firewood?" you asked her. "I'll take the pails and get some water first, then come help you." She nodded. She headed towards the nearby forest while you rummaged through your packs to find the water pails you'd brought. There they were. Horn glowing once more, you brought both pails with you as you approached the river. The water rushed quite swiftly here. All the runoff from the nearby mountains gathered into one lane here - it would split a number of times not far from this point before cascading over several steep cliffs. All the water spray that filled the air around the cliffs reflected the sunlight, which caused all the rainbows. Winsome Falls was indeed quite a lovely place; you were glad to have come. You approached a small tree that sat beside the river, intending to dip the buckets from the cool shade it provided. But your eyes fell on a small object that lay there. It looked like a small traveler's pack. Curious, you dropped the pails and moved for a closer look. It was a traveler's pack. Not big enough for a pony with lots of things to carry (like the two of you had brought), but too big to count as something a pony would bring around town for some light shopping. The cover flap had been weighted down with a rock. You kicked that aside with your hoof, then nudged the flap open, wondering what somepony had left behind. Looked like... paper? Several sheets, wrapped in protective covering and shoved inside the pack. You bent down and bit the edge, pulling the sheets out of the pack. Something heavier moved inside the pack. Focusing, you upended the bag, and an object fell from it, clinking as it hit the rock. A common wrench, with soft coating over the mouth-grip. How odd. You left the wrench and pack lying there, but brought the wad of papers over to your campsite. You spared a look at the nearby forest, but didn't see your companion. Well, she wouldn't mind if I took a moment to look, you thought. If anything could explain why the pack, papers and wrench had been left under the tree, the papers would probably say why. You pulled them out from the protective sheeting. A paperclip kept the top left corner of the bunch secured. It looked like a letter, though it wasn't addressed to anypony. Sitting your flank down on one of the logs ringing the fire pit, you began to read. ~ ~ ~ Don't stop. I beg you, keep reading this letter and what I have to say in its entirety before you leave it. I couldn't ask anypony to take it, for reasons that will become clear, but I'm hoping that the magic means that this will work. I am a liar, a thief, and a wanderer. Since my birth I have been... cursed, I suppose you would call it. It is no physical deformity, nor lack of mental prowess - I am average in both, I suppose, for a pony my age. No, it is that I AM A LIAR. The quintessential one. Before you throw these papers away in disgust, let me explain. It is not by choice. Whether I was truly cursed by some being, or born this way, or perhaps I unknowingly channel some foul magic every moment of my life - nopony believes a single word I utter. I could stand in the middle of town on a bright, lovely day and say it is so, and you, along with everypony around me, would shake your heads, roll your eyes, or even grow angry at the stupidity you thought I brought forth. Ask me if I am hungry - I say yes - you walk away believing I said no. You would not believe my name if you heard it, my hopes if I spoke them, my work if I claimed to do it, or any meaning I gave any sentence whatsoever. Ah, but what if I said no when I meant yes, you think? It still will not work, and I have tried. Say no to mean yes, they think I mean no. Say yes trying to mean no in order to really mean yes... well, you can see it gets insufferably complex from there on out - my point is, this curse won't be tricked. Whatever I truly wish to say is what is never believed. I cannot point at a board with yes/no tagged to it. I cannot write my answers, or nod my head, or blink my eyes once for yes and twice for no. All this I have done, and more. Do you know the phrase "actions speak louder than words"? Well, there is my redeeming feature. I can laugh, cry, and blush to show emotion. I can point at an object, or gallop, or kick open a door. You can't misinterpret some things that a pony does when you're not asking for a reply. I certainly didn't, not in all the towns they drove me from with rocks and sharp words. I figured out something was wrong not long after I first began speaking. I suppose I was fine as a very young foal; my cries and laughs were appropriately tended to; at least my parents had that much time to be happy with their new son. But words... I would call for food and be ignored. Ask a question and receive a shocked look; perhaps a swat on the flank. I tried to tell my mother one night that I loved her - I cannot convey the hurt that filled her expression when the sound of my talking ended. I do not always know what the words are that people hear coming from me. A kind thank you would be met with rage; a cry for help would be met with laughter. I didn't try telling my parents that I loved them again, after that. I started school, already unquestionably different from the other colts and fillies. Everything I said was met wrongfully, and I was a quick study. I kept quiet as much as possible, suffering ridicule and chastisement whenever I was called upon to give an answer. The teacher met with me and my parents often, always with the accusation that I was 'acting out' in class. I would protest, only to end up doubling my punishment. I stayed awake late at night to study. Books did not lie to me. The hours of class became a torment to bear, but my solitude was relief. I learned to read, devouring page by page until the thickest and oldest novels felt like old friends. I taught myself to write and to draw. I became fascinated with books about machinery; gears and wheels and pulleys and intricate mechanisms. I would visit the shops, the farms, the workhouses to see what they used. I lay in bed, dreaming up new ways to combine them, scratching out designs onto paper. I remember the day I got my cutie mark. We were having a science fair, you see - all the colts and fillies were to display projects to the class and to our parents. I worked for weeks to create a miniature version of something I had come up with in my dreams and on my paper. A latticed tower; tiny ropes and pulleys; a hoof-crank to spin a set of gears. At the bottom was a bit of metal. It was a drill, I knew from my reading, and though I used a crank, I imagined that the real version would use a coal furnace to heat water and spin the device. If the whole thing was able to be lifted onto wheels, why, I pictured how easy it would be for ponies to drill deep into the earth to find coal rather than excavate huge mines in the mere hopes of discovering it. I finished it two nights before the faire, twisting the last bolt into place with my little pony's wrench. I felt such a joy when it was done; I felt a tingling and ran to a mirror. I'd earned my mark - a small wrench to match the talent I'd displayed. It didn't matter. The next day, I brought my project to school. Some of the older children caught up to me that morning before the bell rung. They teased, they tormented, they laughed. One of them kicked me - I went flying to the ground and so did my project. I begged them not to continue, but they trampled it. I was left behind in the dirt. I told the teacher what had happened. She grew angry and suspended me for the day. The day of the faire, I had nothing to show. My parents had come. There was nothing but disappointment. I became depressed. I barely ate, spent all my time in my room, usually sleeping. I burned all my papers and left the books on the shelves to rot. I no longer answered anything in school; I accepted retribution and torment from my fellow students without lifting a hoof or raising my voice in protest. After another meeting with the teacher, my parents pulled me from the school. I don't think they knew what to do with me anymore. I could have tried to do some work, but how could I explain to a boss that I understood what he wanted? He would have called me a liar. Everyone called me a liar. Even Celestia herself would call me a liar. How can you explain a problem to someone if they will never believe you have one? So I solved the problem for my parents in my own fashion. I ran away. Took my wrench, some food, and a few other things. Didn't leave a note. It would've been misunderstood. I hope it brought them some peace. Maybe they had another child, one without my curse, and they forgot about me and still live happily. I like to think that, sometimes. I headed for the open fields and the deep forests where ponies did not stay. I became quite the skilled forager; I had taken a few books and used them to identify what plants and berries were safe and which were not. The books didn't lie to me, but I didn't always get them right. Spent a few nights now and then so sick I could hardly move. I became a thief, too, I'm sad to admit. A pony can only stomach so many berries in a month. I sneaked onto farms and tore carrots from the ground. I kicked the trees of apple orchards to take their juicy fruit. It caught up with me now and again; angry farmers and village folk confronting me, beating me within an inch of my life, taking all my possessions. I still miss my book of berry identification. Had it taken somewhere outside Manehattan. And that's how I spent the intervening years. I didn't stay long in any place, and I never went into the real cities. I tried to see a few times if the ponies from far out lands were not affected the same, but it always failed. Eventually, I swore not to speak or respond at all. Let ponies think I was some dumb, mute stallion. That worked better than before; some took pity and shared a meal or a warm hearth. But I grew tired; more tired than you could imagine. I was not made to wander this earth forever. I longed for company and treasured even the words of those who took me for a homeless idiot for a night. With just a tilt of your head, no nods, no words, you'd be surprised how somepony can open up and speak to you. I did not want to be alone but I was invariably driven away from every community by those who sought to harm me or viewed me as a bad omen. I reached Ponyville eventually. It's a small but decent place, the kind I would gravitate to all over Equestria. There's a small brook not far from the forest's edge that displays an earthly beauty that wrenched at my heart. The sorrows of years of travel caught up to me, and I let my traveler's pack slip to the ground. I wept, long and hard and intense, shaking with the terribleness of it all. That's when I heard her voice for the first time. How can I describe it? It was soft, but full - not a stage voice, but the low intensity of somepony caught in the pleasure of the moment, knowing that only friends listened. The words meant nothing to me, it sounded like a foreign language, I was too caught up in the notes that flew forth. I saw her crest the hill and the body attached to the voice appeared. Her eyes were closed; her mouth moved in her singing. A pale, golden coat covered her, over which light, pinkish hair trailed in a long mane and tail. She floated about a foot off the ground, pegasus wings flapping. A dozen assorted birds, squirrels, and rabbits flew, walked, or hopped beside her. Her eyes opened as she followed the path. She saw me, curled up and miserable on the opposing bank of the stream. "Oh!" she cried out, and her wings folded up, dropping her onto her hooves. The Letter, pt. 2I think she would have run off if I hadn't been in the condition I was. She appeared so radiant to me that a new sob choked its way up my throat, my eyes shut and I lay my face on my hooves. I despaired, because I knew that I could never, ever speak to her, whoever she was. I wanted to tell her how wonderful her singing had been, making me forget my troubles. I heard the soft fall of hoofsteps as she flew across the stream and landed next to me; suddenly, she was there at my side. She lay down, her coat pressing against mine, one hoof crossing the back of my neck. Her pegasus wing stretched out and gently touched my back. I didn't know at the time if such comforting came naturally to her, or through experience, or if it was totally out of character, but she gave it to me. "There, there," were her quiet words. "It'll be okay." She repeated these phrases as sorrow wracked my body. My first encounter here and I was an emotional wreck. I hope you'd understand, given my experiences. My sniffling subsided and the two of us broke contact. She stood first, backing away when she sensed I meant to move. I got to my hooves, catching a glimpse of her soft blueish eyes. I could see that her face was tinged with concern, but that came as no surprise. I imagine most ponies in Equestria don't have their first meetings with strangers by seeing them in ragged, tear-filled misery. Embarrassed, I stared off to the side, trying to wipe my face clear with one of my hooves. I hoped my own expression would at least convey a semblance of gratitude, for I could not come out and say as much. "I... I don't think I've seen you before... " she seemed unsure of where to begin a conversation (not that I could provide one, but she didn't know) after that tender moment. I looked into her eyes again; this time she broke the gaze, shying away. The movement served to focus her on my dropped possessions; she noted the pack I'd let fall to the ground earlier. "Are you traveling? Did you get lost?" I couldn't say yes. I couldn't nod. I just looked. Most ponies, by this point, would start to get quite unnerved at the lack of response. She was rather attractive for a pegasus; I didn't want to see her face contorted by anger or anything that would ruin what she had done. So I... breathed in the scene, I guess. Her wings, with the feathers still partially opened; her pink mane, flowing down in front of her until it almost obscured an eye; the kindness showing on her face; her graceful body framed by the grass and babbling brook. I made it a picture to file away in my memory, to use later if sorrow overtook me again. Then I resigned myself to leaving before it was spoiled. I turned and grabbed the strap of my pack in my teeth, flinging it up and over until it rested in place. I started to walk, following the water downstream as I had been before. "W...wait!" she called in an excited tone. I should have kept walking, I knew it. I should have ignored her voice and galloped out of sight. But something made me pause. My shoulders drooped a little, but I turned back to look at her. The concern was still plastered on her face. "Maybe you... have to go right now, but... if you wanted a little more company, I could... fix you a hot meal, first?" I looked at the ground, but having already stopped, I knew my will was breaking. Just a meal, I thought. I'd had the same from other ponies across the land, sometimes with good results, sometimes not, but the prospect of eating something not stolen from a field was appealing. So I lifted my head again, carefully blank in my own expression, and trotted back her way. The concern melted slightly to reveal a shy smile. She looked towards the stream, and I thought I heard her mutter something like "skip, jump" under her breath. She half-fluttered, half-hopped across the stream, then looked my way again. "I have a cottage down this path," she said by way of explanation, "but the first hoof-bridge is a ways up..." She sounded as if this bit of information might personally affront me. Well, I had no wings like hers, so that narrowed the options. The stream wasn't particularly deep, it looked only knee-deep, but it flowed briskly and was too wide to jump unaided. I took a tentative step down the bank; thankfully, the water was not frigid, so I had only to advance with care to avoid slipping on the stones that littered the passage. I made it to the other bank without incident, shaking the water off my legs after I emerged. "It's this way," the mare said, starting to walk, but turning to see if I would follow. I did so obediently, falling into step with her pace. I watched the path; I could feel her glancing my way. "They call me shy... Fluttershy, that is. I mean... that's my name." She swallowed. "You haven't said... anything... " I still didn't. Believe me, it was difficult to refrain. Either she grew quiet in confusion or seemed to accept my need for silence, but as we continued down the path she didn't ask any questions. The stream had a few twists; we crossed a small stone bridge layered with mossy turf, drawing closer to the nearby forest. I could easily have followed my side of the stream until I had reached this point, but, well, I wasn't about to speak up on that point. Quite a number of hoots, whistles, and other animal calls came from the trees on either side of us, but the only sounds we made were the little thumps of hooves touching the ground. We came into view of her home. It was certainly... unique. The path crossed the stream once more over a similar bridge, then wound up a hillside back and forth until it reached the door. Trimmed grass sprouted bunches of flowers all alongside it; puffy little bushes poked out from the ground. Several types of trees grew around the place, but they all shared one thing in common: nearly every branch housed either a nest or served as the hanging point for a wooden birdhouse. The residents were in full view, hopping in and out of both, many of them flying between points on the trees or sitting on a branch, warbling. The cottage itself looked sturdy; it had several windows and other features, but the one that stood out was the roof coated entirely in grass. I raised a mental eyebrow. She couldn't have gotten 'back to nature' any more unless, well, she had been sleeping in fields and forests as I did, under the stars with nothing but a blanket. We crossed over the bridge and came to the door; it was built in two sections, with both the top and bottom half able to swing out, which the top already was, perhaps for fresh air. Or maybe to let animals fly in and out. The inside, as we entered, was as remarkable as the outside. The whole place was perforated with what looked like mouse holes or entrances to more avian dwellings. Tiny staircases, ramps, and pathways lined the walls, like a labyrinth affixed sideways. It looked like an adventurous cat's idea of heaven. No cats awaited us inside, but a rather stern-looking rabbit sat in the middle of the floor, looking at us as we approached, thumping a leg against the floor and holding his little arms crossed. "Hi, Angel Bunny," said Fluttershy. "This is... a guest, he's going to share supper with us." The little creature pantomimed looking at a watch and huffing. "Yes, I'll start it right away." "Please, make yourself comfortable," she addressed me. "I'll gather some vegetables and make a nice filling stew." She had a small wood-burning stove; she undid the latch and opened the fuel door, picking out a match from a bowl and lighting it to ignite the wood. As the tinder caught, she spread her left wing and used it to fan the flames until it spread to her satisfaction. I shrugged off my pack once more, nestling it against the leg of a cushioned couch which I sat down on. She hummed a little tune, picking up a handled pot and filling it with water, then placing it on a stove burner. She started rummaging through one of the cupboards, looking for ingredients. I must have been more worn out than I thought; I guess I dozed off, sitting on the plush cushions. I startled a bit when I felt a hoof tapping my side; my sudden movement startled her in return. We looked at each other and both let out a little grin and a chuckle. "Stew's ready," she smiled. Fluttershy had placed three bowls on the table next to the steaming pot of stew, but only two cloth napkins. I looked at her, then to the bowl; she took my meaning. "It's for Angel," she said. With a soup ladle, she served a small portion of the meal in one of the bowls, then lifted it up and placed it on the floor a short distance away. The rabbit pet actually looked grateful for a moment. "It's very hot, Angel, be careful you don't burn yourself." She ladled another portion into a second bowl, then pushed it across the table towards me. "You too," she nodded her head before serving herself. I sniffed the cooking. Smelled wonderful; I could see fresh carrots and celery stalks floating in the orangeish-looking broth, and the stark smell of onion tickled my nose. I lowered my head, blowing steam away from the bowl, and stuck out a tongue to taste the concoction with the tip of it. Ouch. Still too hot. The two of us ponies regarded each other as the stew cooled. "So... you either can't or won't talk... " she began. I did nothing but watch, and she continued. "But I can tell you understand what I'm saying. I hope this helps before you... you keep going." She blushed a bit, the last part trailing off. I smiled, praying this wouldn't be misconstrued, and the ruddy marks on her cheeks spread a little further. After another minute or two of quiet, the stew was cool enough to eat. I happily chewed the softened vegetables and drank down the broth. She ate a bit daintily, trying not to splash, but I made liberal use of the napkin and she didn't appear to mind my hunger. When we finished, the sun was pouring in through an open window, announcing that dusk, like it or not, would soon be here. I stood, motioning as if to clear the table and wash the bowls. "Oh, no, please, I'll clean them... " Instead of doing so, however, she returned to the cupboards and pulled out a variety of fresh vegetables. I understood the incoming offer, so I moved to my pack, sliding it away from the couch and opening the cover flap. She brought the vegetables (and a small loaf of bread) and placed them inside, after which I clasped it shut again before hoisting it up. I had no way to thank her, and she had declined my aid in cleaning up... I raised a hoof, keeping my expression clear. She looked at it, a brief spark of worry passing across her, so I paused. She raised her eyes from it and met my gaze. I was going to give her a pat on the shoulder or something, but... to hell with it, I thought, and instead raised my hoof all the way to the top of her mane. Her eyelids lowered just a bit as I followed the first touch with a stroke down the back of her mane, ending with a little squeeze at her coat. I don't know if she would nod, purr, strike at me, or angrily object. She didn't end up doing any of those things, but just stood there as if in shock. Feeling as awkward as I had before on the riverbank, I backed off and made the semblance of a front-legged bow, then swiftly exited out the door. I crossed the stone bridge, looking back over my shoulder. She hadn't come to the door or any of the windows. As night fell, I sat just inside whatever forest this was, thinking and thinking. I should have taken off. I should have abandoned Ponyville and continued on. But I didn't. The Letter, pt. 3I ended up sleeping a short distance inside the forest, where the trees nearly obscured vision of the cottage, but I could still see glimpses of it. I slept well, which was unusual in itself; you learn to doze lightly and uneasily when somepony might run you out of town at a moment's notice. I was pleased by the kindness that Fluttershy had shown me, though I hoped I hadn't offended her with the brief contact. That's something else I had missed - just the warmth of a pony's touch, and twice that day I had felt it. Worries aside, sleep came quickly, and I had no dreams to disturb me. I woke beneath the maples and chestnuts, eyes bleary and with my throat parched by thirst. It was just before dawn; the horizon had begun to lighten and the stars were dimming. I've never seen Celestia, though I have an idea of what she looks like, given the depictions in the books I'd once read. I stuffed my blanket back inside my pack, picking the whole thing up and trotting towards the nearby stream. Across the way, birds had begun flitting about the trees; no doubt they'd soon be chirping and singing. I wondered when she usually woke up. I bent my head down to the stream and slaked my thirst. The clear, cool water had almost a hint of sweetness, but perhaps that was my optimism about the day - a somewhat unfamiliar sensation - tinting the flavor. I had to figure out what I would do. I'd made up my mind not to leave, but I had to find some way to occupy myself if I wouldn't be walking until I was too tired to continue. Going into town was out of the question; although I considered myself fortunate to have met a pony who wasn't bothered by my silence, pressing my luck by encountering many more seemed unwise. Nor did I wish to simply sit around all day or intrude on Fluttershy, and the few books I still carried had been read and reread until I could nearly quote them all blindfolded. I crossed the mossy stone bridge, passing to the other riverside, but did not continue up the winding path to the cottage proper. I circled the place, seeing what else was nearby. I saw that behind the cottage were some small pens with wooden construction; from the wooden posts and stretched wire surrounding it, I guessed they were chicken coops. Next to it were some little home garden plots. Another little path emerged from the cottage's back door, passing through the gate of a wooden fence which encircled this area. Next to the garden I saw a pile of deep wicker baskets, used to carry the vegetables after they had been picked. Ah ha! I had an idea. I lifted the gate's latch and it swung wide without any creaks or protests to announce my presence. I moved inside, peering at the coops. If she had roosters, I hoped they weren't yet ready to crow the alarm. I sneaked over to the pile of baskets and grabbed one, biting down on the handle and shaking it free from the rest. I retreated back through the gate, hooking the latch once more. That done, I trotted back to the forest. I shrugged off my pack and whipped it up onto the broken stub of an oak tree branch where it would stay put. I waited a bit for the sun to start shining, since this forest was darker and thicker than most, and I needed what light was available in order to complete my task. Once the rays had begun popping through available holes in the foliage, I walked deeper into the woods, searching back and forth, trying to keep my bearings. Lots of strange beasts and plants inhabit that place, as you no doubt already know. I almost trotted straight into a small patch of poison joke, the deep blue-hued plant suddenly popping out from behind some shrubs. Though I wondered what effect that could have had on me, it was best not to indulge that curiosity. Not long after, I started finding the goal of my search - wild blueberries! All I had seen for miles and miles before reaching Ponyville's outskirts were rows upon rows of apple orchards, though there was one that I had stood and stared at before realizing it was a Zap apple orchard - a rare occurrence in any land. I figured - correctly, I should add - that the cultivation of other fruits was a rarity for the area. I placed the basket beneath the berry bush. Grabbed a hold of the stoutest portion of the bush with my teeth - berry bushes don't respond well to bucking, as orchard trees do - and shook it violently. Loads of berries, disturbed by the vibration and subsequently breaking off, fell down to the basket, though some missed and spilled on the ground. I'm sure some animals didn't let those go to waste after I left. I found several other bushes laden with the little blue treats, and it didn't take too long to fill the basket until it felt near to my carrying limit. With that done, I scooped the burden up and walked southwards to the forest's edge. I passed by my hanging pack and emerged into the open grassland. Crossed the bridge; climbed the path. She might have left her home or been sleeping late; I considered knocking, but judged it better to keep my distance. So I lay the basket below an overhang to the side of the door, where it would hopefully not be struck or ruined by sunshine before being discovered. I returned across the bridge once more, hoisting my pack from off the branch stub, located a suitable place to perch, and opened up a book. I could see the cottage door from here, but I hoped the distance and my brown coat would blend me into the background. It must have been hours later that I finally noticed movement larger than that of a bird or a squirrel. It seemed she had indeed left before I had come back, as she came up the path at a trot. She drew closer to the cottage and slowed, noticing the basket which had been filled nearly to the brim. Fluttershy turned; I saw her head scanning around, likely guessing who had deposited the gift and wondering where I was, but I ducked low, and if she saw, she did not react. She opened the cottage door and pushed the basket of blueberries inside with a hoof, then closed the door and left almost as soon as she had arrived. She had the most amusing and unique gait as she took off down the path - I could never forget it. Her hooves moved as if in a canter, but at the zenith of each arc, her wings sparked into motion and she soared a good three or four yards of distance. It looked, well, joyous. I wondered if she was singing or humming, but I was too far to hear. After some more uneventful waiting, I saw her return, using a normal walk, but behind her bounced a pink-coated mare. Both of them carried small sacks. The two ponies disappeared through the cottage door. After several minutes, wisps of smoke arose from the chimney, evidence of cookery, and I smiled, guessing that Fluttershy had come up with a use for the berries. I inched closer to the line separating the forest from the grassland; despite the distance, I could hear singing from within the cottage, but that... that couldn't be Fluttershy's voice. The words were unclear, but the high-pitched, almost squeaking tone was certainly not hers. Whoever the pink pony was, she was certainly enthusiastic about baking. A side window opened, and two pies slid out onto the sill, steam rising from them into the air. I backed cautiously away, and just in time, for the pink one burst out the front door, waving a hoof behind her and bounding down the path until she disappeared. Fluttershy came outside then, but stood just past the door, and I couldn't tell what she intended. I thought she might call out to me, trying to see if I was around, but surprisingly, she gave a shrill whistle instead. From all the nearby trees, birds perked up at the sound and halted the flitting around they had been doing. They descended upon her, landing on her head, in her mane, on her back, and at her hooves. I saw her lower her head; I could see her mouth moving. Could she speak to the animals? That would certainly explain the proliferation of housing and the animal-friendly construction of her home. The birds shot out in a torrent, and Fluttershy's mane waved from the force of the many wings pounding the air. They spread out like a firework explosion, flying every which way. Some were headed right for me. Crud, I thought, but the wave of birds soon saturated the forest, and when they saw me, they alighted on my mane in turn. Piercing bird whistles sounded from right behind my ears. I could have run, but I knew I was already exposed. I could have struck the little beasts to shut them up, but as I've never given violence to the bullies and ponies who knew better, I wasn't about to attack the little friends of one who had shown me kindness. Her eyes had zoned in immediately on the avian alarm, so I walked forward a bit sheepishly. Her face lit up in a smile once more, so you'll understand if I said I was feeling good about indulging another meeting. Crossing that little bridge over the brook for about the hundredth time, it seemed, I approached the pegasus mare. "I hoped you were still around," she said. "Thank you for the berries! We don't get them often in Ponyville... nopony wants to gather them from the Everfree forest... but my friend, Pinkie Pie, she was so happy to come over and help bake them into delicious pies. I just know you'd like to share a slice with me." She turned, standing in the doorway and beckoning me inside. How could I refuse? I went inside. I had brought my pack with me; I nestled it against the couch. I moved to the same spot at the table I had used before and waited. Fluttershy brought out two small plates from a cupboard, placing them on the table, then picked up one of the pies with her hooves. She retrieved a pie server and sliced two decently-sized wedges, scooping them onto the plate. My mouth watered; I couldn't help it. She nudged one plate towards me and brought the other to her seat. "Bon appetit," she offered, carefully pronouncing the foreign words. We dug in, nibbling the soft, still-warm and flaky crust, licking up the flowing juices and plump berries of the filling. By the sun's rays, it was a good pie. "Oh my," she said to match my thoughts. "That was something else." I was uncertain what would happen next. She came over to my seat, sliding the plate away from me, and with a little shy look and a nudge, pointed me towards the cushioned couch. I allowed myself to be moved, taking up a reclining position at one end while she sat at the other, tucking in her legs. I stayed silent - I couldn't do anything else - and she remained so as well. At last, she broke the quiet. "I know you can't... speak, or even acknowledge what somepony says, so... you can't tell me your name. Maybe you wouldn't mind if I... came up with one for you? You could think of it as a... nickname, if you wanted." She pulled her front right hoof out from its tucked-in position, and slowly reached out towards my brown flank and the silvery cutie mark of a wrench that showed on it. "Maybe your talent is... well, a wrench is used on nuts and bolts... but those wouldn't make a good name. Is it working with machines? Like trains or windmills? Hmmmm," she said. There was no good way to pantomime my actual name, but... I had a thought. I hopped down, and she withdrew her hoof, waiting to see what I was doing. I flipped open the pack's cover and gripped one of the few books I had saved. Tinkering with Technology read the cover as I placed the book facing towards her. She read the title, and looked at the depiction below of a pony, toolbox at his hooves, standing next to a device built of large, interlocked gears. "Tinkering," she said thoughtfully. "Then what about calling you... 'Tinker'?" she asked. I smiled, steeling myself so as not to nod in exhilaration. She interpreted it as acceptance, and her mouth curved in a return grin. "Tinker, then." I sat down on the cushions. With that decided, quiet resumed, but she spoke up hesitantly again. "I felt so... sad when I first saw you, I couldn't help but recognize... maybe some of what you were feeling. It reminded me... of times I've felt that way." "You've been bullied a lot, haven't you? Is that why you travel so much? Maybe ponies don't understand... your quietness... they don't want you around. I was bullied a lot... myself." And she began to speak about her foalhood. How she had grown taller before the other colts and fillies, becoming gangly and shy about her body. The others were relentless in teasing and tormenting her, calling her names like 'Fluttergiant' to make fun of her size, or 'Stuttershy' when she tried to stammer out responses. She was afraid to look weak to her parents by complaining - apparently Cloudsdale, a pegasus-only home, had a reputation as a real anti-coddling place - so she often ran away and cried in solitude. "Flying camp made things even worse," she said. She'd picked up a new nickname from the bullies there - 'Klutzershy' - when her unsteady wings often sent her plummeting into the safety clouds below the launch point. Despite the rather grim encouragement of the camp coaches, her wings would seize up and refuse to work as the onlooking colts and fillies laughed. "I wanted to give up," she said, but then her face brightened. "But there was one pony who stood up for me... her name's Rainbow Dash... she challenged the others to a race. Her heart was in the right place... but they knocked me over in the mad flight. Everypony must have been caught up watching, I don't think they even saw me fall, but I missed the clouds and streaked towards the ground... my wings slowed me a bit, but what really saved me," and here her face glimmered with true joy as her eyes closed, "was a huge flock of butterflies that stopped my fall. I'd never been to the ground before... there were so many amazing sights. Birds and squirrels and cute little bunnies... I took it all in, it was so beautiful. And then... there was a huge explosion in the sky, a rainbow appeared, trailing, but also coming out in a boom that shook the trees all around me." "The animals were so scared... and so I tried to comfort them... and they responded! I found out we could understand each other, not perfectly, but pretty well. I got my cutie mark that day when I realized how much helping them made my heart soar," she pointed at her flank with three butterflies on it. "The camp coaches found me not long after... but from then on, I sneaked down here whenever I could - it was the only way I could fly - and played with my animal friends. I became friends with Rainbow Dash too, after the way she defended me. I loved to watch her fly, she really is fantastic at it. When I got old enough, I moved here to work with the animals and help Ponyville. That's when I made other friends..." She talked about the others: Pinkie Pie, the enthusiastic singing baker pony who had been here at the cottage earlier; Applejack, one of the owners of the many apple orchards outside town; Rarity, a fashion designer who loved to spend time at the spa with her; and lastly Twilight Sparkle, the most recent addition to the group, a pony after my own heart, often curled up with a good book. She told the story of when they all gathered for the Summer Sun Celebration, when the Princess had gone missing and Nightmare Moon arrived to threaten them. The six of them set out to solve the problem, learning that they had special destinies that tied into the Elements of Harmony. They used the powers of honesty, kindness, laughter, generosity, loyalty and magic to turn Nightmare Moon back into Princess Luna and save the day, bonding the group into a lasting friendship. Something about that story resounded with me. Elements. Honesty. There's a pony... who represents honesty? My curse... could she... I started up from the couch, interrupting the surprised mare. I had to find a way to meet her friend. If there was a chance... I ran through the room, searching, while she let out a little gasp. The cupboards. I swung them open, looking within. There. Piled in a bowl were half a dozen crisp red apples. I seized one, rushing towards the table, where I plopped the fruit on it. I looked at Fluttershy. "An apple?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "We just ate... " She paused, considering. "But you know that. You acted suddenly. I was talking about my friends... you want to meet Applejack? I rushed towards her and took her into a big pony hug. The Letter, pt. 4"Okay, Tinker," said Fluttershy, patting me awkwardly on the back. "We can go right now, if you want." I broke off the embrace, moving to my pack and sweeping the book back inside, closing the flap and hoisting up the pack. I ran eagerly to the door, waiting for her to follow, and she stood up to leave with me. We exited the cottage; she shut the lower section of the door, but left the top one open. "It felt... good to talk about my past," she said as we started down the hill. I looked her way. "I don't usually talk about it, at least not all at once... but you're... a great listener." She smiled, as did I. Down the path we walked, over the river and alongside the woods. Ponyville and all its rooftops came closer, but the path split and we followed it to the right; skirting the town and passing between the fields that appeared. Rows of corn, celery and cabbages gave way to towering apple trees; the fruits were still small and green. Under one tree, three fillies cantered about, knocking a small ball between them as they giggled. One of them, a little unicorn, caught the ball with the top of her head, arcing it back up and towards another filly. This filly, who wore a bow-shaped ribbon in her mane, spun around, raised her hind hooves, and kicked at the ball as it approached, but she stumbled. Instead of heading towards her friend, the ball rocketed straight towards Fluttershy. She squeaked, flitting upwards with puff of her wings, just barely avoiding being struck as the ball flew beneath her hooves and hit a post of the wooden fence lining the pathway. The three fillies stared at the pair of us, then gasped all at once and ran forwards. They reached the fence on the other side which separated the orchard from the road, and they raised up on their hind legs, placing their front hooves on the railing and just barely peeking over the top. "Fluttershy! Sorry... " piped the ribbon-maned earth pony. "... we didn't mean... " said the unicorn. "... to nearly hit you!" said the third, a young pegasus. "It's okay, girls," Fluttershy assured them. "Apple Bloom, do you know where your sister is?" The one with the ribbon answered. "She's at the barn, last I saw." I grabbed the little ball from where it had landed and with a swing of my head flung it over to the trio. The pegasus filly extended a wing, deftly catching it. "Thank you, girls." The three of them rushed off back towards the trees, and we continued down the path. A large farmhouse, barn, and various animal pens marked the living area of the farm. Following Apple Bloom's recollection, we entered the barn, passing out from under the afternoon sun's glare. A muscular, light orange pony with her mane and tail tied back in a ponytail was stacking barrels in one corner of the barn, and she looked up as the sound of hoofsteps announced our arrival. "Well hey there, Fluttershy," the pony - who must be Applejack - said with a grin while boosting up the barrel. It teetered for a moment, but slid into place atop the others, and she brushed back a loose hair from her mane before trotting towards us. "And howdy to you, mister... ?" "His name is... well, I mean, I'm calling him 'Tinker'... he can't speak, you see... " Applejack extended a hoof, and I raised one of my own, which she shook strongly. "Pleased ta meetcha, Tinker. Two of ya aren't sneaking down here hoping for an early taste of cider, are ya?" She grinned. "No, Applejack... my friend really wanted to meet you... " Fluttershy began telling Applejack about how she had met me, though she left out the part about my weepiness, just saying that I had been sitting by the river and she had invited me for a meal. She talked about how I was apparently mute or otherwise unable to respond, but had no trouble understanding other ponies. Applejack listened as Fluttershy told about the berries and the pies, then sharing a slice with me. Finally, she told how I'd listened to her stories and had grown quite excited, managing to indicate my desire to meet Applejack. "So I brought him here, though I'm not sure... what we can do. Maybe I should get Twilight... " "Well, sugarcube, let's see what Tinker here has to... well, what he intends." said Applejack, for my nervousness was starting to show. They both looked at me. Now that I was there, I felt less sure about my idea. If this Applejack really was the Element of Honesty, well... I knew I could take one preventative measure in case this went wrong, at least. Instead of moving towards Applejack, I approached Fluttershy, raising my hoof and gently pushing against her. She immediately looked confused, backing off, but I kept nudging her gently. She glanced towards her friend. "I get it - I think he wants some, uh, privacy." said Applejack. "Oh... okay." Fluttershy obligingly backed off further, pausing for a few seconds, then leaving through the barn doors. Applejack returned my look, staying quietly and waiting for me to do whatever it was I was going to do. This was my chance - if the stories were true. Somepony who represented honesty couldn't mistake my words for lies, could she? I was tired of running; tired of strange towns and angry strangers; tired of sleeping under bushes and trees. So I did it. I spoke. I took in a deep breath, steeling my nerves. "Applejack," was all that I said. Her eyes widened right away; I saw her pupils dilate, and her gaze seemed to focus on something beyond me. A split second later, the opposite happened - her eyes nearly slammed shut. Her mouth dropped open. I was shocked; transfixed, I could only watch as the mare's body shook and her eyes opened and shut, rapidly moving between both. I'd never seen anypony reacting in a way like this, to anything at all; I felt a terrible sense of dread. Wump! Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground. Panicking, I knelt beside her. She shivered as if she was freezing; I tried to hold her steady. Her eyes had rolled back, leaving her face looking gruesome. I heard hoofbeats coming closer. Fluttershy, hearing the sound of her friend's collapsed, rushed in from beyond the doors. I'll never know what the scene looked like as she came in; it probably looked as if I had decked her friend. "Applejack!" she shrieked. "What... what did you do?!" Reader, the situation might have been salvageable, but I made a fatal mistake. The surprise of the situation tore away the years of careful practice I had built up - I answered her. "I didn't mean to!" I cried out. She skidded to a stop beside us. Looking down at her friend, then looking at me, I saw what would truly be burned into my vision forever after. The kindness and shyness that had become familiar to me drained away, leaving her with a look of confusion mixed with anger. "You... meant to do this?!" she accused, fury growing. "You meant to hurt Applejack? Why would you do that? This is why you wanted to come here?" "No!" I insisted, fighting a losing battle, and I knew it, even through the shock. "I thought... I thought you were a friend... why would you want to hurt her? I can't believe you would do this after... after I trusted you! Just go away! I don't... want to see you again!" I ran. "Applejack, Applejack," I heard her calling out behind me. ~ ~ ~ I fled from the farm, galloping down the path back towards the forest. The three fillies, still playing by the tree, watched me curiously as I sped past. I ran past the town, leaped into the stream as I reached it, and struggled up the bank. I ran and ran, not entering the forest, but heading towards the hills and mountains that could be seen upstream. In just a few days, I'd met a friend that had given me hope, and instead of... being satisfied with that, I had tried to solve the whole problem, and I had ruined everything. She didn't want to see me; I might have even seriously hurt Applejack. As special as Fluttershy and her friends had been, my curse wouldn't even be broken by them. It was all hopeless. I followed a hiker's path as it started up the hills and into a forest. I ran and ran and ran, until the ground ended, and I was forced to halt. This place was even more remarkable than the stream I'd wept at. The crashing sounds of water falling filled the air and huge, arced rainbows filled the sky through the clouds of droplets that arose from below. I sat down, placing my face over my hooves. I wept once more, but eventually even the tears wouldn't come anymore. There was no place in Equestria for me. Well, I had only one more conclusion to make after that, and it didn't take long. I set down my pack, then kicked it open, spilling the contents out onto the ground. My tinkering book I through over the cliff, the same with the food that remained. I still had some writing materials; with them, I wrote this account you now hold. The only other remnant of my life was a small, silver-colored wrench that shone like my cutie mark. I sighed, placing it back in the pack. So, Reader, what can I leave you with? I will seal this letter inside the pack when it is done and weight the whole thing down. I hope that Applejack is not hurt. Whatever ability she has, it must have fought against my curse, and I pray it has no lasting effect other than a little memory loss. But Fluttershy... I feel as if I betrayed her, and in a way, I did. I could have stayed a quiet friend, but... I felt as if I could have more - didn't I deserve more? - and in my hubris destroyed what little I had found. It is clear to me that she is a true friend to those lucky enough to have her. She has had troubles and tough times of her own, but came through them to become a pony kind enough to show compassion even to a complete stranger. Tell her, if you know her, how worthy she is, and how proud she should be of who she is and what she has come from. Tell her friends to treasure her, love her, listen to her and laugh with her. She called me friend, and it touched my heart. Perhaps this letter will wither away in this pack, never found, but I hope... when I am gone, the curse must be as well. Tell her my story. I hope she will understand. I hope. -'Tinker'. ~ ~ ~ You turned over the last bit of the letter, huffing out a puff of breath with annoyance. Ridiculous waste of time, you thought. You looked over at the fire pit. She'd come back with sticks and little logs a while ago, and had started up the fire, but hadn't interrupted you when she saw you were reading. You wished she had. She was busy staring into the flames. You stood up, returning to the tree under which the pack and wrench still lay. With a flash of irritation, you kicked them both, sending them flying over the cliff to the jagged rocks below. Back at the fire, you looked at the letter. Curious at your actions, she questioned you. "What does it say, Twilight?" "Nothing important, Fluttershy. Somepony's idea of a bad joke," you said, picking up the letter with your teeth and flinging it into the fire.
The LetterYour muscles ached a bit as the last portion of your long walk ended and the campsite you'd be using came into view. Your packs had grown heavy; you didn't want to admit it at first, but skipping the second campground probably hadn't been the best idea. Still, you wanted to see this place sooner rather than later, and your companion hadn't objected to the change of plan. She walked alongside you, similarly laden with supplies, and was apparently just as grateful to have arrived as you were. The familiar surge of magic grew in your horn and the buckles and clasps securing the packs atop you opened and slipped aside, allowing you to gently drop your burden on the ground. Your friend stood still as you turned towards her, letting you repeat the action so she didn't have to fuss with her packs. You smiled at her, but she looked away. Okay. You hoped the scenery would do some good during the few days you'd be staying. Out from your pack came a tent, roomy enough for two ponies to share comfortably. You levitated it towards a likely patch of ground - clear of stones, you hoped - and unfolded the contraption. Metal poles joined together to form a sturdy backbone over which the canvas draped. Long stakes accepted the pounding of your hoof as they sank into the ground, the ropes connected to them would keep the tent from falling over from the wind that blows up here. That task done, your friend came closer, carrying your two sleeping bags which she tossed through the open flap of the tent. You stood there together for a moment; you'd caught a glimpse of the rainbows that gleamed nearby. It reminded you of Dash, though there were far more trails in that place than she normally leaves behind, and you couldn't help but smile again. The sun was going down, but you knew there was still a good hour or so left of useful daylight. "Want to gather firewood?" you asked her. "I'll take the pails and get some water first, then come help you." She nodded. She headed towards the nearby forest while you rummaged through your packs to find the water pails you'd brought. There they were. Horn glowing once more, you brought both pails with you as you approached the river. The water rushed quite swiftly here. All the runoff from the nearby mountains gathered into one lane here - it would split a number of times not far from this point before cascading over several steep cliffs. All the water spray that filled the air around the cliffs reflected the sunlight, which caused all the rainbows. Winsome Falls was indeed quite a lovely place; you were glad to have come. You approached a small tree that sat beside the river, intending to dip the buckets from the cool shade it provided. But your eyes fell on a small object that lay there. It looked like a small traveler's pack. Curious, you dropped the pails and moved for a closer look. It was a traveler's pack. Not big enough for a pony with lots of things to carry (like the two of you had brought), but too big to count as something a pony would bring around town for some light shopping. The cover flap had been weighted down with a rock. You kicked that aside with your hoof, then nudged the flap open, wondering what somepony had left behind. Looked like... paper? Several sheets, wrapped in protective covering and shoved inside the pack. You bent down and bit the edge, pulling the sheets out of the pack. Something heavier moved inside the pack. Focusing, you upended the bag, and an object fell from it, clinking as it hit the rock. A common wrench, with soft coating over the mouth-grip. How odd. You left the wrench and pack lying there, but brought the wad of papers over to your campsite. You spared a look at the nearby forest, but didn't see your companion. Well, she wouldn't mind if I took a moment to look, you thought. If anything could explain why the pack, papers and wrench had been left under the tree, the papers would probably say why. You pulled them out from the protective sheeting. A paperclip kept the top left corner of the bunch secured. It looked like a letter, though it wasn't addressed to anypony. Sitting your flank down on one of the logs ringing the fire pit, you began to read. ~ ~ ~ Don't stop. I beg you, keep reading this letter and what I have to say in its entirety before you leave it. I couldn't ask anypony to take it, for reasons that will become clear, but I'm hoping that the magic means that this will work. I am a liar, a thief, and a wanderer. Since my birth I have been... cursed, I suppose you would call it. It is no physical deformity, nor lack of mental prowess - I am average in both, I suppose, for a pony my age. No, it is that I AM A LIAR. The quintessential one. Before you throw these papers away in disgust, let me explain. It is not by choice. Whether I was truly cursed by some being, or born this way, or perhaps I unknowingly channel some foul magic every moment of my life - nopony believes a single word I utter. I could stand in the middle of town on a bright, lovely day and say it is so, and you, along with everypony around me, would shake your heads, roll your eyes, or even grow angry at the stupidity you thought I brought forth. Ask me if I am hungry - I say yes - you walk away believing I said no. You would not believe my name if you heard it, my hopes if I spoke them, my work if I claimed to do it, or any meaning I gave any sentence whatsoever. Ah, but what if I said no when I meant yes, you think? It still will not work, and I have tried. Say no to mean yes, they think I mean no. Say yes trying to mean no in order to really mean yes... well, you can see it gets insufferably complex from there on out - my point is, this curse won't be tricked. Whatever I truly wish to say is what is never believed. I cannot point at a board with yes/no tagged to it. I cannot write my answers, or nod my head, or blink my eyes once for yes and twice for no. All this I have done, and more. Do you know the phrase "actions speak louder than words"? Well, there is my redeeming feature. I can laugh, cry, and blush to show emotion. I can point at an object, or gallop, or kick open a door. You can't misinterpret some things that a pony does when you're not asking for a reply. I certainly didn't, not in all the towns they drove me from with rocks and sharp words. I figured out something was wrong not long after I first began speaking. I suppose I was fine as a very young foal; my cries and laughs were appropriately tended to; at least my parents had that much time to be happy with their new son. But words... I would call for food and be ignored. Ask a question and receive a shocked look; perhaps a swat on the flank. I tried to tell my mother one night that I loved her - I cannot convey the hurt that filled her expression when the sound of my talking ended. I do not always know what the words are that people hear coming from me. A kind thank you would be met with rage; a cry for help would be met with laughter. I didn't try telling my parents that I loved them again, after that. I started school, already unquestionably different from the other colts and fillies. Everything I said was met wrongfully, and I was a quick study. I kept quiet as much as possible, suffering ridicule and chastisement whenever I was called upon to give an answer. The teacher met with me and my parents often, always with the accusation that I was 'acting out' in class. I would protest, only to end up doubling my punishment. I stayed awake late at night to study. Books did not lie to me. The hours of class became a torment to bear, but my solitude was relief. I learned to read, devouring page by page until the thickest and oldest novels felt like old friends. I taught myself to write and to draw. I became fascinated with books about machinery; gears and wheels and pulleys and intricate mechanisms. I would visit the shops, the farms, the workhouses to see what they used. I lay in bed, dreaming up new ways to combine them, scratching out designs onto paper. I remember the day I got my cutie mark. We were having a science fair, you see - all the colts and fillies were to display projects to the class and to our parents. I worked for weeks to create a miniature version of something I had come up with in my dreams and on my paper. A latticed tower; tiny ropes and pulleys; a hoof-crank to spin a set of gears. At the bottom was a bit of metal. It was a drill, I knew from my reading, and though I used a crank, I imagined that the real version would use a coal furnace to heat water and spin the device. If the whole thing was able to be lifted onto wheels, why, I pictured how easy it would be for ponies to drill deep into the earth to find coal rather than excavate huge mines in the mere hopes of discovering it. I finished it two nights before the faire, twisting the last bolt into place with my little pony's wrench. I felt such a joy when it was done; I felt a tingling and ran to a mirror. I'd earned my mark - a small wrench to match the talent I'd displayed. It didn't matter. The next day, I brought my project to school. Some of the older children caught up to me that morning before the bell rung. They teased, they tormented, they laughed. One of them kicked me - I went flying to the ground and so did my project. I begged them not to continue, but they trampled it. I was left behind in the dirt. I told the teacher what had happened. She grew angry and suspended me for the day. The day of the faire, I had nothing to show. My parents had come. There was nothing but disappointment. I became depressed. I barely ate, spent all my time in my room, usually sleeping. I burned all my papers and left the books on the shelves to rot. I no longer answered anything in school; I accepted retribution and torment from my fellow students without lifting a hoof or raising my voice in protest. After another meeting with the teacher, my parents pulled me from the school. I don't think they knew what to do with me anymore. I could have tried to do some work, but how could I explain to a boss that I understood what he wanted? He would have called me a liar. Everyone called me a liar. Even Celestia herself would call me a liar. How can you explain a problem to someone if they will never believe you have one? So I solved the problem for my parents in my own fashion. I ran away. Took my wrench, some food, and a few other things. Didn't leave a note. It would've been misunderstood. I hope it brought them some peace. Maybe they had another child, one without my curse, and they forgot about me and still live happily. I like to think that, sometimes. I headed for the open fields and the deep forests where ponies did not stay. I became quite the skilled forager; I had taken a few books and used them to identify what plants and berries were safe and which were not. The books didn't lie to me, but I didn't always get them right. Spent a few nights now and then so sick I could hardly move. I became a thief, too, I'm sad to admit. A pony can only stomach so many berries in a month. I sneaked onto farms and tore carrots from the ground. I kicked the trees of apple orchards to take their juicy fruit. It caught up with me now and again; angry farmers and village folk confronting me, beating me within an inch of my life, taking all my possessions. I still miss my book of berry identification. Had it taken somewhere outside Manehattan. And that's how I spent the intervening years. I didn't stay long in any place, and I never went into the real cities. I tried to see a few times if the ponies from far out lands were not affected the same, but it always failed. Eventually, I swore not to speak or respond at all. Let ponies think I was some dumb, mute stallion. That worked better than before; some took pity and shared a meal or a warm hearth. But I grew tired; more tired than you could imagine. I was not made to wander this earth forever. I longed for company and treasured even the words of those who took me for a homeless idiot for a night. With just a tilt of your head, no nods, no words, you'd be surprised how somepony can open up and speak to you. I did not want to be alone but I was invariably driven away from every community by those who sought to harm me or viewed me as a bad omen. I reached Ponyville eventually. It's a small but decent place, the kind I would gravitate to all over Equestria. There's a small brook not far from the forest's edge that displays an earthly beauty that wrenched at my heart. The sorrows of years of travel caught up to me, and I let my traveler's pack slip to the ground. I wept, long and hard and intense, shaking with the terribleness of it all. That's when I heard her voice for the first time. How can I describe it? It was soft, but full - not a stage voice, but the low intensity of somepony caught in the pleasure of the moment, knowing that only friends listened. The words meant nothing to me, it sounded like a foreign language, I was too caught up in the notes that flew forth. I saw her crest the hill and the body attached to the voice appeared. Her eyes were closed; her mouth moved in her singing. A pale, golden coat covered her, over which light, pinkish hair trailed in a long mane and tail. She floated about a foot off the ground, pegasus wings flapping. A dozen assorted birds, squirrels, and rabbits flew, walked, or hopped beside her. Her eyes opened as she followed the path. She saw me, curled up and miserable on the opposing bank of the stream. "Oh!" she cried out, and her wings folded up, dropping her onto her hooves.
The Letter, pt. 2I think she would have run off if I hadn't been in the condition I was. She appeared so radiant to me that a new sob choked its way up my throat, my eyes shut and I lay my face on my hooves. I despaired, because I knew that I could never, ever speak to her, whoever she was. I wanted to tell her how wonderful her singing had been, making me forget my troubles. I heard the soft fall of hoofsteps as she flew across the stream and landed next to me; suddenly, she was there at my side. She lay down, her coat pressing against mine, one hoof crossing the back of my neck. Her pegasus wing stretched out and gently touched my back. I didn't know at the time if such comforting came naturally to her, or through experience, or if it was totally out of character, but she gave it to me. "There, there," were her quiet words. "It'll be okay." She repeated these phrases as sorrow wracked my body. My first encounter here and I was an emotional wreck. I hope you'd understand, given my experiences. My sniffling subsided and the two of us broke contact. She stood first, backing away when she sensed I meant to move. I got to my hooves, catching a glimpse of her soft blueish eyes. I could see that her face was tinged with concern, but that came as no surprise. I imagine most ponies in Equestria don't have their first meetings with strangers by seeing them in ragged, tear-filled misery. Embarrassed, I stared off to the side, trying to wipe my face clear with one of my hooves. I hoped my own expression would at least convey a semblance of gratitude, for I could not come out and say as much. "I... I don't think I've seen you before... " she seemed unsure of where to begin a conversation (not that I could provide one, but she didn't know) after that tender moment. I looked into her eyes again; this time she broke the gaze, shying away. The movement served to focus her on my dropped possessions; she noted the pack I'd let fall to the ground earlier. "Are you traveling? Did you get lost?" I couldn't say yes. I couldn't nod. I just looked. Most ponies, by this point, would start to get quite unnerved at the lack of response. She was rather attractive for a pegasus; I didn't want to see her face contorted by anger or anything that would ruin what she had done. So I... breathed in the scene, I guess. Her wings, with the feathers still partially opened; her pink mane, flowing down in front of her until it almost obscured an eye; the kindness showing on her face; her graceful body framed by the grass and babbling brook. I made it a picture to file away in my memory, to use later if sorrow overtook me again. Then I resigned myself to leaving before it was spoiled. I turned and grabbed the strap of my pack in my teeth, flinging it up and over until it rested in place. I started to walk, following the water downstream as I had been before. "W...wait!" she called in an excited tone. I should have kept walking, I knew it. I should have ignored her voice and galloped out of sight. But something made me pause. My shoulders drooped a little, but I turned back to look at her. The concern was still plastered on her face. "Maybe you... have to go right now, but... if you wanted a little more company, I could... fix you a hot meal, first?" I looked at the ground, but having already stopped, I knew my will was breaking. Just a meal, I thought. I'd had the same from other ponies across the land, sometimes with good results, sometimes not, but the prospect of eating something not stolen from a field was appealing. So I lifted my head again, carefully blank in my own expression, and trotted back her way. The concern melted slightly to reveal a shy smile. She looked towards the stream, and I thought I heard her mutter something like "skip, jump" under her breath. She half-fluttered, half-hopped across the stream, then looked my way again. "I have a cottage down this path," she said by way of explanation, "but the first hoof-bridge is a ways up..." She sounded as if this bit of information might personally affront me. Well, I had no wings like hers, so that narrowed the options. The stream wasn't particularly deep, it looked only knee-deep, but it flowed briskly and was too wide to jump unaided. I took a tentative step down the bank; thankfully, the water was not frigid, so I had only to advance with care to avoid slipping on the stones that littered the passage. I made it to the other bank without incident, shaking the water off my legs after I emerged. "It's this way," the mare said, starting to walk, but turning to see if I would follow. I did so obediently, falling into step with her pace. I watched the path; I could feel her glancing my way. "They call me shy... Fluttershy, that is. I mean... that's my name." She swallowed. "You haven't said... anything... " I still didn't. Believe me, it was difficult to refrain. Either she grew quiet in confusion or seemed to accept my need for silence, but as we continued down the path she didn't ask any questions. The stream had a few twists; we crossed a small stone bridge layered with mossy turf, drawing closer to the nearby forest. I could easily have followed my side of the stream until I had reached this point, but, well, I wasn't about to speak up on that point. Quite a number of hoots, whistles, and other animal calls came from the trees on either side of us, but the only sounds we made were the little thumps of hooves touching the ground. We came into view of her home. It was certainly... unique. The path crossed the stream once more over a similar bridge, then wound up a hillside back and forth until it reached the door. Trimmed grass sprouted bunches of flowers all alongside it; puffy little bushes poked out from the ground. Several types of trees grew around the place, but they all shared one thing in common: nearly every branch housed either a nest or served as the hanging point for a wooden birdhouse. The residents were in full view, hopping in and out of both, many of them flying between points on the trees or sitting on a branch, warbling. The cottage itself looked sturdy; it had several windows and other features, but the one that stood out was the roof coated entirely in grass. I raised a mental eyebrow. She couldn't have gotten 'back to nature' any more unless, well, she had been sleeping in fields and forests as I did, under the stars with nothing but a blanket. We crossed over the bridge and came to the door; it was built in two sections, with both the top and bottom half able to swing out, which the top already was, perhaps for fresh air. Or maybe to let animals fly in and out. The inside, as we entered, was as remarkable as the outside. The whole place was perforated with what looked like mouse holes or entrances to more avian dwellings. Tiny staircases, ramps, and pathways lined the walls, like a labyrinth affixed sideways. It looked like an adventurous cat's idea of heaven. No cats awaited us inside, but a rather stern-looking rabbit sat in the middle of the floor, looking at us as we approached, thumping a leg against the floor and holding his little arms crossed. "Hi, Angel Bunny," said Fluttershy. "This is... a guest, he's going to share supper with us." The little creature pantomimed looking at a watch and huffing. "Yes, I'll start it right away." "Please, make yourself comfortable," she addressed me. "I'll gather some vegetables and make a nice filling stew." She had a small wood-burning stove; she undid the latch and opened the fuel door, picking out a match from a bowl and lighting it to ignite the wood. As the tinder caught, she spread her left wing and used it to fan the flames until it spread to her satisfaction. I shrugged off my pack once more, nestling it against the leg of a cushioned couch which I sat down on. She hummed a little tune, picking up a handled pot and filling it with water, then placing it on a stove burner. She started rummaging through one of the cupboards, looking for ingredients. I must have been more worn out than I thought; I guess I dozed off, sitting on the plush cushions. I startled a bit when I felt a hoof tapping my side; my sudden movement startled her in return. We looked at each other and both let out a little grin and a chuckle. "Stew's ready," she smiled. Fluttershy had placed three bowls on the table next to the steaming pot of stew, but only two cloth napkins. I looked at her, then to the bowl; she took my meaning. "It's for Angel," she said. With a soup ladle, she served a small portion of the meal in one of the bowls, then lifted it up and placed it on the floor a short distance away. The rabbit pet actually looked grateful for a moment. "It's very hot, Angel, be careful you don't burn yourself." She ladled another portion into a second bowl, then pushed it across the table towards me. "You too," she nodded her head before serving herself. I sniffed the cooking. Smelled wonderful; I could see fresh carrots and celery stalks floating in the orangeish-looking broth, and the stark smell of onion tickled my nose. I lowered my head, blowing steam away from the bowl, and stuck out a tongue to taste the concoction with the tip of it. Ouch. Still too hot. The two of us ponies regarded each other as the stew cooled. "So... you either can't or won't talk... " she began. I did nothing but watch, and she continued. "But I can tell you understand what I'm saying. I hope this helps before you... you keep going." She blushed a bit, the last part trailing off. I smiled, praying this wouldn't be misconstrued, and the ruddy marks on her cheeks spread a little further. After another minute or two of quiet, the stew was cool enough to eat. I happily chewed the softened vegetables and drank down the broth. She ate a bit daintily, trying not to splash, but I made liberal use of the napkin and she didn't appear to mind my hunger. When we finished, the sun was pouring in through an open window, announcing that dusk, like it or not, would soon be here. I stood, motioning as if to clear the table and wash the bowls. "Oh, no, please, I'll clean them... " Instead of doing so, however, she returned to the cupboards and pulled out a variety of fresh vegetables. I understood the incoming offer, so I moved to my pack, sliding it away from the couch and opening the cover flap. She brought the vegetables (and a small loaf of bread) and placed them inside, after which I clasped it shut again before hoisting it up. I had no way to thank her, and she had declined my aid in cleaning up... I raised a hoof, keeping my expression clear. She looked at it, a brief spark of worry passing across her, so I paused. She raised her eyes from it and met my gaze. I was going to give her a pat on the shoulder or something, but... to hell with it, I thought, and instead raised my hoof all the way to the top of her mane. Her eyelids lowered just a bit as I followed the first touch with a stroke down the back of her mane, ending with a little squeeze at her coat. I don't know if she would nod, purr, strike at me, or angrily object. She didn't end up doing any of those things, but just stood there as if in shock. Feeling as awkward as I had before on the riverbank, I backed off and made the semblance of a front-legged bow, then swiftly exited out the door. I crossed the stone bridge, looking back over my shoulder. She hadn't come to the door or any of the windows. As night fell, I sat just inside whatever forest this was, thinking and thinking. I should have taken off. I should have abandoned Ponyville and continued on. But I didn't.
The Letter, pt. 3I ended up sleeping a short distance inside the forest, where the trees nearly obscured vision of the cottage, but I could still see glimpses of it. I slept well, which was unusual in itself; you learn to doze lightly and uneasily when somepony might run you out of town at a moment's notice. I was pleased by the kindness that Fluttershy had shown me, though I hoped I hadn't offended her with the brief contact. That's something else I had missed - just the warmth of a pony's touch, and twice that day I had felt it. Worries aside, sleep came quickly, and I had no dreams to disturb me. I woke beneath the maples and chestnuts, eyes bleary and with my throat parched by thirst. It was just before dawn; the horizon had begun to lighten and the stars were dimming. I've never seen Celestia, though I have an idea of what she looks like, given the depictions in the books I'd once read. I stuffed my blanket back inside my pack, picking the whole thing up and trotting towards the nearby stream. Across the way, birds had begun flitting about the trees; no doubt they'd soon be chirping and singing. I wondered when she usually woke up. I bent my head down to the stream and slaked my thirst. The clear, cool water had almost a hint of sweetness, but perhaps that was my optimism about the day - a somewhat unfamiliar sensation - tinting the flavor. I had to figure out what I would do. I'd made up my mind not to leave, but I had to find some way to occupy myself if I wouldn't be walking until I was too tired to continue. Going into town was out of the question; although I considered myself fortunate to have met a pony who wasn't bothered by my silence, pressing my luck by encountering many more seemed unwise. Nor did I wish to simply sit around all day or intrude on Fluttershy, and the few books I still carried had been read and reread until I could nearly quote them all blindfolded. I crossed the mossy stone bridge, passing to the other riverside, but did not continue up the winding path to the cottage proper. I circled the place, seeing what else was nearby. I saw that behind the cottage were some small pens with wooden construction; from the wooden posts and stretched wire surrounding it, I guessed they were chicken coops. Next to it were some little home garden plots. Another little path emerged from the cottage's back door, passing through the gate of a wooden fence which encircled this area. Next to the garden I saw a pile of deep wicker baskets, used to carry the vegetables after they had been picked. Ah ha! I had an idea. I lifted the gate's latch and it swung wide without any creaks or protests to announce my presence. I moved inside, peering at the coops. If she had roosters, I hoped they weren't yet ready to crow the alarm. I sneaked over to the pile of baskets and grabbed one, biting down on the handle and shaking it free from the rest. I retreated back through the gate, hooking the latch once more. That done, I trotted back to the forest. I shrugged off my pack and whipped it up onto the broken stub of an oak tree branch where it would stay put. I waited a bit for the sun to start shining, since this forest was darker and thicker than most, and I needed what light was available in order to complete my task. Once the rays had begun popping through available holes in the foliage, I walked deeper into the woods, searching back and forth, trying to keep my bearings. Lots of strange beasts and plants inhabit that place, as you no doubt already know. I almost trotted straight into a small patch of poison joke, the deep blue-hued plant suddenly popping out from behind some shrubs. Though I wondered what effect that could have had on me, it was best not to indulge that curiosity. Not long after, I started finding the goal of my search - wild blueberries! All I had seen for miles and miles before reaching Ponyville's outskirts were rows upon rows of apple orchards, though there was one that I had stood and stared at before realizing it was a Zap apple orchard - a rare occurrence in any land. I figured - correctly, I should add - that the cultivation of other fruits was a rarity for the area. I placed the basket beneath the berry bush. Grabbed a hold of the stoutest portion of the bush with my teeth - berry bushes don't respond well to bucking, as orchard trees do - and shook it violently. Loads of berries, disturbed by the vibration and subsequently breaking off, fell down to the basket, though some missed and spilled on the ground. I'm sure some animals didn't let those go to waste after I left. I found several other bushes laden with the little blue treats, and it didn't take too long to fill the basket until it felt near to my carrying limit. With that done, I scooped the burden up and walked southwards to the forest's edge. I passed by my hanging pack and emerged into the open grassland. Crossed the bridge; climbed the path. She might have left her home or been sleeping late; I considered knocking, but judged it better to keep my distance. So I lay the basket below an overhang to the side of the door, where it would hopefully not be struck or ruined by sunshine before being discovered. I returned across the bridge once more, hoisting my pack from off the branch stub, located a suitable place to perch, and opened up a book. I could see the cottage door from here, but I hoped the distance and my brown coat would blend me into the background. It must have been hours later that I finally noticed movement larger than that of a bird or a squirrel. It seemed she had indeed left before I had come back, as she came up the path at a trot. She drew closer to the cottage and slowed, noticing the basket which had been filled nearly to the brim. Fluttershy turned; I saw her head scanning around, likely guessing who had deposited the gift and wondering where I was, but I ducked low, and if she saw, she did not react. She opened the cottage door and pushed the basket of blueberries inside with a hoof, then closed the door and left almost as soon as she had arrived. She had the most amusing and unique gait as she took off down the path - I could never forget it. Her hooves moved as if in a canter, but at the zenith of each arc, her wings sparked into motion and she soared a good three or four yards of distance. It looked, well, joyous. I wondered if she was singing or humming, but I was too far to hear. After some more uneventful waiting, I saw her return, using a normal walk, but behind her bounced a pink-coated mare. Both of them carried small sacks. The two ponies disappeared through the cottage door. After several minutes, wisps of smoke arose from the chimney, evidence of cookery, and I smiled, guessing that Fluttershy had come up with a use for the berries. I inched closer to the line separating the forest from the grassland; despite the distance, I could hear singing from within the cottage, but that... that couldn't be Fluttershy's voice. The words were unclear, but the high-pitched, almost squeaking tone was certainly not hers. Whoever the pink pony was, she was certainly enthusiastic about baking. A side window opened, and two pies slid out onto the sill, steam rising from them into the air. I backed cautiously away, and just in time, for the pink one burst out the front door, waving a hoof behind her and bounding down the path until she disappeared. Fluttershy came outside then, but stood just past the door, and I couldn't tell what she intended. I thought she might call out to me, trying to see if I was around, but surprisingly, she gave a shrill whistle instead. From all the nearby trees, birds perked up at the sound and halted the flitting around they had been doing. They descended upon her, landing on her head, in her mane, on her back, and at her hooves. I saw her lower her head; I could see her mouth moving. Could she speak to the animals? That would certainly explain the proliferation of housing and the animal-friendly construction of her home. The birds shot out in a torrent, and Fluttershy's mane waved from the force of the many wings pounding the air. They spread out like a firework explosion, flying every which way. Some were headed right for me. Crud, I thought, but the wave of birds soon saturated the forest, and when they saw me, they alighted on my mane in turn. Piercing bird whistles sounded from right behind my ears. I could have run, but I knew I was already exposed. I could have struck the little beasts to shut them up, but as I've never given violence to the bullies and ponies who knew better, I wasn't about to attack the little friends of one who had shown me kindness. Her eyes had zoned in immediately on the avian alarm, so I walked forward a bit sheepishly. Her face lit up in a smile once more, so you'll understand if I said I was feeling good about indulging another meeting. Crossing that little bridge over the brook for about the hundredth time, it seemed, I approached the pegasus mare. "I hoped you were still around," she said. "Thank you for the berries! We don't get them often in Ponyville... nopony wants to gather them from the Everfree forest... but my friend, Pinkie Pie, she was so happy to come over and help bake them into delicious pies. I just know you'd like to share a slice with me." She turned, standing in the doorway and beckoning me inside. How could I refuse? I went inside. I had brought my pack with me; I nestled it against the couch. I moved to the same spot at the table I had used before and waited. Fluttershy brought out two small plates from a cupboard, placing them on the table, then picked up one of the pies with her hooves. She retrieved a pie server and sliced two decently-sized wedges, scooping them onto the plate. My mouth watered; I couldn't help it. She nudged one plate towards me and brought the other to her seat. "Bon appetit," she offered, carefully pronouncing the foreign words. We dug in, nibbling the soft, still-warm and flaky crust, licking up the flowing juices and plump berries of the filling. By the sun's rays, it was a good pie. "Oh my," she said to match my thoughts. "That was something else." I was uncertain what would happen next. She came over to my seat, sliding the plate away from me, and with a little shy look and a nudge, pointed me towards the cushioned couch. I allowed myself to be moved, taking up a reclining position at one end while she sat at the other, tucking in her legs. I stayed silent - I couldn't do anything else - and she remained so as well. At last, she broke the quiet. "I know you can't... speak, or even acknowledge what somepony says, so... you can't tell me your name. Maybe you wouldn't mind if I... came up with one for you? You could think of it as a... nickname, if you wanted." She pulled her front right hoof out from its tucked-in position, and slowly reached out towards my brown flank and the silvery cutie mark of a wrench that showed on it. "Maybe your talent is... well, a wrench is used on nuts and bolts... but those wouldn't make a good name. Is it working with machines? Like trains or windmills? Hmmmm," she said. There was no good way to pantomime my actual name, but... I had a thought. I hopped down, and she withdrew her hoof, waiting to see what I was doing. I flipped open the pack's cover and gripped one of the few books I had saved. Tinkering with Technology read the cover as I placed the book facing towards her. She read the title, and looked at the depiction below of a pony, toolbox at his hooves, standing next to a device built of large, interlocked gears. "Tinkering," she said thoughtfully. "Then what about calling you... 'Tinker'?" she asked. I smiled, steeling myself so as not to nod in exhilaration. She interpreted it as acceptance, and her mouth curved in a return grin. "Tinker, then." I sat down on the cushions. With that decided, quiet resumed, but she spoke up hesitantly again. "I felt so... sad when I first saw you, I couldn't help but recognize... maybe some of what you were feeling. It reminded me... of times I've felt that way." "You've been bullied a lot, haven't you? Is that why you travel so much? Maybe ponies don't understand... your quietness... they don't want you around. I was bullied a lot... myself." And she began to speak about her foalhood. How she had grown taller before the other colts and fillies, becoming gangly and shy about her body. The others were relentless in teasing and tormenting her, calling her names like 'Fluttergiant' to make fun of her size, or 'Stuttershy' when she tried to stammer out responses. She was afraid to look weak to her parents by complaining - apparently Cloudsdale, a pegasus-only home, had a reputation as a real anti-coddling place - so she often ran away and cried in solitude. "Flying camp made things even worse," she said. She'd picked up a new nickname from the bullies there - 'Klutzershy' - when her unsteady wings often sent her plummeting into the safety clouds below the launch point. Despite the rather grim encouragement of the camp coaches, her wings would seize up and refuse to work as the onlooking colts and fillies laughed. "I wanted to give up," she said, but then her face brightened. "But there was one pony who stood up for me... her name's Rainbow Dash... she challenged the others to a race. Her heart was in the right place... but they knocked me over in the mad flight. Everypony must have been caught up watching, I don't think they even saw me fall, but I missed the clouds and streaked towards the ground... my wings slowed me a bit, but what really saved me," and here her face glimmered with true joy as her eyes closed, "was a huge flock of butterflies that stopped my fall. I'd never been to the ground before... there were so many amazing sights. Birds and squirrels and cute little bunnies... I took it all in, it was so beautiful. And then... there was a huge explosion in the sky, a rainbow appeared, trailing, but also coming out in a boom that shook the trees all around me." "The animals were so scared... and so I tried to comfort them... and they responded! I found out we could understand each other, not perfectly, but pretty well. I got my cutie mark that day when I realized how much helping them made my heart soar," she pointed at her flank with three butterflies on it. "The camp coaches found me not long after... but from then on, I sneaked down here whenever I could - it was the only way I could fly - and played with my animal friends. I became friends with Rainbow Dash too, after the way she defended me. I loved to watch her fly, she really is fantastic at it. When I got old enough, I moved here to work with the animals and help Ponyville. That's when I made other friends..." She talked about the others: Pinkie Pie, the enthusiastic singing baker pony who had been here at the cottage earlier; Applejack, one of the owners of the many apple orchards outside town; Rarity, a fashion designer who loved to spend time at the spa with her; and lastly Twilight Sparkle, the most recent addition to the group, a pony after my own heart, often curled up with a good book. She told the story of when they all gathered for the Summer Sun Celebration, when the Princess had gone missing and Nightmare Moon arrived to threaten them. The six of them set out to solve the problem, learning that they had special destinies that tied into the Elements of Harmony. They used the powers of honesty, kindness, laughter, generosity, loyalty and magic to turn Nightmare Moon back into Princess Luna and save the day, bonding the group into a lasting friendship. Something about that story resounded with me. Elements. Honesty. There's a pony... who represents honesty? My curse... could she... I started up from the couch, interrupting the surprised mare. I had to find a way to meet her friend. If there was a chance... I ran through the room, searching, while she let out a little gasp. The cupboards. I swung them open, looking within. There. Piled in a bowl were half a dozen crisp red apples. I seized one, rushing towards the table, where I plopped the fruit on it. I looked at Fluttershy. "An apple?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "We just ate... " She paused, considering. "But you know that. You acted suddenly. I was talking about my friends... you want to meet Applejack? I rushed towards her and took her into a big pony hug.
The Letter, pt. 4"Okay, Tinker," said Fluttershy, patting me awkwardly on the back. "We can go right now, if you want." I broke off the embrace, moving to my pack and sweeping the book back inside, closing the flap and hoisting up the pack. I ran eagerly to the door, waiting for her to follow, and she stood up to leave with me. We exited the cottage; she shut the lower section of the door, but left the top one open. "It felt... good to talk about my past," she said as we started down the hill. I looked her way. "I don't usually talk about it, at least not all at once... but you're... a great listener." She smiled, as did I. Down the path we walked, over the river and alongside the woods. Ponyville and all its rooftops came closer, but the path split and we followed it to the right; skirting the town and passing between the fields that appeared. Rows of corn, celery and cabbages gave way to towering apple trees; the fruits were still small and green. Under one tree, three fillies cantered about, knocking a small ball between them as they giggled. One of them, a little unicorn, caught the ball with the top of her head, arcing it back up and towards another filly. This filly, who wore a bow-shaped ribbon in her mane, spun around, raised her hind hooves, and kicked at the ball as it approached, but she stumbled. Instead of heading towards her friend, the ball rocketed straight towards Fluttershy. She squeaked, flitting upwards with puff of her wings, just barely avoiding being struck as the ball flew beneath her hooves and hit a post of the wooden fence lining the pathway. The three fillies stared at the pair of us, then gasped all at once and ran forwards. They reached the fence on the other side which separated the orchard from the road, and they raised up on their hind legs, placing their front hooves on the railing and just barely peeking over the top. "Fluttershy! Sorry... " piped the ribbon-maned earth pony. "... we didn't mean... " said the unicorn. "... to nearly hit you!" said the third, a young pegasus. "It's okay, girls," Fluttershy assured them. "Apple Bloom, do you know where your sister is?" The one with the ribbon answered. "She's at the barn, last I saw." I grabbed the little ball from where it had landed and with a swing of my head flung it over to the trio. The pegasus filly extended a wing, deftly catching it. "Thank you, girls." The three of them rushed off back towards the trees, and we continued down the path. A large farmhouse, barn, and various animal pens marked the living area of the farm. Following Apple Bloom's recollection, we entered the barn, passing out from under the afternoon sun's glare. A muscular, light orange pony with her mane and tail tied back in a ponytail was stacking barrels in one corner of the barn, and she looked up as the sound of hoofsteps announced our arrival. "Well hey there, Fluttershy," the pony - who must be Applejack - said with a grin while boosting up the barrel. It teetered for a moment, but slid into place atop the others, and she brushed back a loose hair from her mane before trotting towards us. "And howdy to you, mister... ?" "His name is... well, I mean, I'm calling him 'Tinker'... he can't speak, you see... " Applejack extended a hoof, and I raised one of my own, which she shook strongly. "Pleased ta meetcha, Tinker. Two of ya aren't sneaking down here hoping for an early taste of cider, are ya?" She grinned. "No, Applejack... my friend really wanted to meet you... " Fluttershy began telling Applejack about how she had met me, though she left out the part about my weepiness, just saying that I had been sitting by the river and she had invited me for a meal. She talked about how I was apparently mute or otherwise unable to respond, but had no trouble understanding other ponies. Applejack listened as Fluttershy told about the berries and the pies, then sharing a slice with me. Finally, she told how I'd listened to her stories and had grown quite excited, managing to indicate my desire to meet Applejack. "So I brought him here, though I'm not sure... what we can do. Maybe I should get Twilight... " "Well, sugarcube, let's see what Tinker here has to... well, what he intends." said Applejack, for my nervousness was starting to show. They both looked at me. Now that I was there, I felt less sure about my idea. If this Applejack really was the Element of Honesty, well... I knew I could take one preventative measure in case this went wrong, at least. Instead of moving towards Applejack, I approached Fluttershy, raising my hoof and gently pushing against her. She immediately looked confused, backing off, but I kept nudging her gently. She glanced towards her friend. "I get it - I think he wants some, uh, privacy." said Applejack. "Oh... okay." Fluttershy obligingly backed off further, pausing for a few seconds, then leaving through the barn doors. Applejack returned my look, staying quietly and waiting for me to do whatever it was I was going to do. This was my chance - if the stories were true. Somepony who represented honesty couldn't mistake my words for lies, could she? I was tired of running; tired of strange towns and angry strangers; tired of sleeping under bushes and trees. So I did it. I spoke. I took in a deep breath, steeling my nerves. "Applejack," was all that I said. Her eyes widened right away; I saw her pupils dilate, and her gaze seemed to focus on something beyond me. A split second later, the opposite happened - her eyes nearly slammed shut. Her mouth dropped open. I was shocked; transfixed, I could only watch as the mare's body shook and her eyes opened and shut, rapidly moving between both. I'd never seen anypony reacting in a way like this, to anything at all; I felt a terrible sense of dread. Wump! Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground. Panicking, I knelt beside her. She shivered as if she was freezing; I tried to hold her steady. Her eyes had rolled back, leaving her face looking gruesome. I heard hoofbeats coming closer. Fluttershy, hearing the sound of her friend's collapsed, rushed in from beyond the doors. I'll never know what the scene looked like as she came in; it probably looked as if I had decked her friend. "Applejack!" she shrieked. "What... what did you do?!" Reader, the situation might have been salvageable, but I made a fatal mistake. The surprise of the situation tore away the years of careful practice I had built up - I answered her. "I didn't mean to!" I cried out. She skidded to a stop beside us. Looking down at her friend, then looking at me, I saw what would truly be burned into my vision forever after. The kindness and shyness that had become familiar to me drained away, leaving her with a look of confusion mixed with anger. "You... meant to do this?!" she accused, fury growing. "You meant to hurt Applejack? Why would you do that? This is why you wanted to come here?" "No!" I insisted, fighting a losing battle, and I knew it, even through the shock. "I thought... I thought you were a friend... why would you want to hurt her? I can't believe you would do this after... after I trusted you! Just go away! I don't... want to see you again!" I ran. "Applejack, Applejack," I heard her calling out behind me. ~ ~ ~ I fled from the farm, galloping down the path back towards the forest. The three fillies, still playing by the tree, watched me curiously as I sped past. I ran past the town, leaped into the stream as I reached it, and struggled up the bank. I ran and ran, not entering the forest, but heading towards the hills and mountains that could be seen upstream. In just a few days, I'd met a friend that had given me hope, and instead of... being satisfied with that, I had tried to solve the whole problem, and I had ruined everything. She didn't want to see me; I might have even seriously hurt Applejack. As special as Fluttershy and her friends had been, my curse wouldn't even be broken by them. It was all hopeless. I followed a hiker's path as it started up the hills and into a forest. I ran and ran and ran, until the ground ended, and I was forced to halt. This place was even more remarkable than the stream I'd wept at. The crashing sounds of water falling filled the air and huge, arced rainbows filled the sky through the clouds of droplets that arose from below. I sat down, placing my face over my hooves. I wept once more, but eventually even the tears wouldn't come anymore. There was no place in Equestria for me. Well, I had only one more conclusion to make after that, and it didn't take long. I set down my pack, then kicked it open, spilling the contents out onto the ground. My tinkering book I through over the cliff, the same with the food that remained. I still had some writing materials; with them, I wrote this account you now hold. The only other remnant of my life was a small, silver-colored wrench that shone like my cutie mark. I sighed, placing it back in the pack. So, Reader, what can I leave you with? I will seal this letter inside the pack when it is done and weight the whole thing down. I hope that Applejack is not hurt. Whatever ability she has, it must have fought against my curse, and I pray it has no lasting effect other than a little memory loss. But Fluttershy... I feel as if I betrayed her, and in a way, I did. I could have stayed a quiet friend, but... I felt as if I could have more - didn't I deserve more? - and in my hubris destroyed what little I had found. It is clear to me that she is a true friend to those lucky enough to have her. She has had troubles and tough times of her own, but came through them to become a pony kind enough to show compassion even to a complete stranger. Tell her, if you know her, how worthy she is, and how proud she should be of who she is and what she has come from. Tell her friends to treasure her, love her, listen to her and laugh with her. She called me friend, and it touched my heart. Perhaps this letter will wither away in this pack, never found, but I hope... when I am gone, the curse must be as well. Tell her my story. I hope she will understand. I hope. -'Tinker'. ~ ~ ~ You turned over the last bit of the letter, huffing out a puff of breath with annoyance. Ridiculous waste of time, you thought. You looked over at the fire pit. She'd come back with sticks and little logs a while ago, and had started up the fire, but hadn't interrupted you when she saw you were reading. You wished she had. She was busy staring into the flames. You stood up, returning to the tree under which the pack and wrench still lay. With a flash of irritation, you kicked them both, sending them flying over the cliff to the jagged rocks below. Back at the fire, you looked at the letter. Curious at your actions, she questioned you. "What does it say, Twilight?" "Nothing important, Fluttershy. Somepony's idea of a bad joke," you said, picking up the letter with your teeth and flinging it into the fire.
