Gryphon A Second Chance

by RedSavant

Rating: teen
Tags: Gilda, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Angel, Romance, Fluttershy
Length: 18052

Gilda returns to Ponyville looking to patch things up with Dash - but things don't go as planned.

When Gilda returns to Ponyville looking to patch things up with Rainbow Dash, things don't exactly go as planned. Grounded and humiliated, Gilda begins the long process of learning that sometimes, friendship means being willing to admit you were wrong.

One-sided Gilda/Dash shipping, rated for Gilda's bad language. Crossposted from Fanfiction.net.

Published 2011-09-20 21:34:18 UTC
Last updated 2011-12-13 05:26:50 UTC

Lightning and Sunsets

Anyway! Time for my first ponyfic. It's Gilda-centric, obviously, and while I don't intend this to be a shipfic, there will be some rather obvious girl-crushing going on. Take that as you will. The astute reader will note a number of shout-outs to Jetfire's It's A Dangerous Business, Going Out Your Door - a fantastic story available on Equestria Daily and, I think, Ponychan. These references are made with his gracious permission, and while Dangerous Business is nowhere near required reading for this fic, I heartily recommend it to all my readers.

Anyway, please enjoy!
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There were certain duties associated with the title of Coolest Pegasus In Equestria. Rainbow Dash, Ponyville's resident Wonderbolt hopeful and self-appointed holder of the title, accepted this as fact. After all, being the coolest translated naturally into being the best – at anything and everything. It was only fair that the best sometimes had to show the scrubs that looked up to her the basics, the ropes or whatever it was that scrubs needed to be shown (never having been a scrub, Dash was somewhat fuzzy on that part of it). Still… she might've been all right with giving up the title – just for a little bit! A few hours maybe, until she could get it back with a Sonic Rainboom, which she could totally do on command now by the way – if it meant she wasn't being woken up at three in the morning by a custom work order addressed directly to her. Thunderstorm over Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres – woo, Applejack wouldn't like that one bit. Still, thunderstorms - and lightning! - were fun, and pretty simple.

"You've done it again, Dashy," she congratulated herself, settling back into a nearby puff of thunderhead and surveying the cloudscape before and around her. It rumbled with dark promise, rising and falling like a disturbed sea, and flashes of bright white spat between mountainous projections of cloud, leaving their sharp, familiar taste behind. The gentler sparks dancing through the water vapor prickled at her feathers and her back, making the tuft of her mane she could see frizz up and out, and she laughed, not bothering to try to smooth it down. "Not only are you the coolest, you're the best at making storms, too." She yawned hugely and blinked once or twice; as much fun as the lightning was, it wasn't doing anything for her tiredness, and after a few more seconds of lavishing praise on herself, she kicked open a hole in the cloud layer with her hoof and let herself fall into the open air down below.

Dash opened her eyes full seconds later - close enough to the ground to feel that little squeeze in her heart - and snapped her wings open, slicing into the wind at a vicious angle as she leveled out, wingtips just barely clearing the lowest branches of Twilight Sparkle's house in the Ponyville Library. She couldn't help but give a whoop as she pulled up, coasting entirely on momentum, and spiraled back up into the sky as lightning crackled and the first raindrops began to fall. As much fun as flying through stormclouds was – and it was fun; a lot of ponies just didn't get how to ride completely unpredictable air currents, and they let lightning spook them, and stuff like that – it was late, and time to head back to bed. The Wonderbolts were putting on a show over Canterlot tomorrow, and she was totally going to be able to see them from her house, if she was awake on time.

By the time she saw the soft, pillowy clouds of her own home – moved from its usual spot to avoid the worst of the downpour – in the distance, the rain had begun in earnest, and she was shaking her head every few seconds to unstick her sodden mane from its stubborn place directly over her eyes. Pulling in her wings to settle down, Dash sank about an inch into the normally springy cloud, and frowned down at her feet. She'd have to wring out her house after this, which wasn't exactly hard, but it was a pain. And it could get really cold if the rain soaked down through the roof and into her blankets, and there was that one time when an actual chicken, no lie, had been blown through her floor during one particularly strong storm, and – Dash stopped short. There was someone else on her cloud.

It was hard to see, what with the dark and the rain and all, but the figure was silhouetted pretty well against the puffy cumulus clouds that were her walls. It wasn't a pony, that was for sure; it was too tall, and the shape was wrong. It looked like it had giant hands stretching up over its head; its body was a dark blob underneath. And a thin, switchy tail was lashing the air behind it… Dash's eyes narrowed, and she lowered her head a little, ready for a fight. "Hey," she called, kicking up a little tuft of cloud with her back hoof. "I don't know who you think you are, but you picked the wrong pegasus to mess with, buddy. Get ready, 'cause here comes Rainbow –" she stopped midsentence and skidded to a halt for the second time in as many minutes. She recognized the silhouette.

And the silhouette recognized her. It raised a clawed hand into the air from underneath the folded limbs and waved somewhat weakly, somewhat sheepishly – words that Dash knew, certainly, and had even used on occasion, but had never in a million years dreamed would be applied to the soggy-looking gryphon sitting in a miserable lump on her doorstep, her wings raised in a half-hearted attempt to keep the rain off her head. "Hey, Dash," said Gilda the Gryphon, offering a beaky smile that looked unconvincing even at three in the morning. "Mind if I crash at your place for a bit?"

Rainbow Dash stood stock-still for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. "Gilda," she said, her voice cautious. "I didn't think I'd see you around again, after what you said about my friends." She gave the last word a bit of a twist, and felt an ugly bit of satisfaction as her unexpected guest flinched a little.

"Yeah, I guess life's funny like that," Gilda said with a weak laugh, giving her wings a flick. Rain spattered in a loose circle in front of her, and she brought her wings back up. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Dash thought the tips of her pinfeathers were shaking a little bit. "So, anyway, yeah. What d'you say? I know you got that super-sweet couch you showed me last time –"

Dash shook her head, which flopped her mane back into her eyes. She blew it up out of her face, frowning. "Gilda. Maybe you forgot, but last time we saw each other, you were a huge jerk. Something about everypony being a lame-o and me being a flip-flop for wanting to hang out with people who-"

"Hey, that's got nothing to do with this," Gilda growled, getting to her feet. "I just want-"

"-who don't bully and ruin parties-" Dash continued to talk over her, voice gradually rising in volume to keep ahead of the gryphon.

"-all I'm asking is for you to let me crash for a night-"

"-and act totally uncool-"

"-and if you were cool and were really my friend-"

That did it. Dash leapt forward and dug her hooves into the cloud, pressing her forehead into Gilda's with a thud. "Really your friend? Really your friend? If you were really my friend, you wouldn't have ruined Pinkie Pie's party, or bullied Fluttershy, or been so lame to my friends that I picked! I can't believe-"

Gilda reared back, roaring in frustration. "What is with you and your stupid friends? You used to be cool, Dash! We used to be cool together! We sure as hell didn't need any lamebrain hugs-and-flowers ponies! What the heck happened to you? I don't get it!"

Dash closed her mouth, abandoning the rest of her sentence. "No, I guess you don't, Gilda," she said, frowning. "Go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed." She stepped around the gryphon, who turned with her, dumbstruck at the sudden lack of resistance.

Gilda found her voice again as Dash stepped through the door and turned to close it behind her. "So that's it? You're just gonna leave me out here 'cause you don't like what I said about your dumb friends?"

"Everything you said about my friends, you said about me," Dash replied, quietly but fiercely. "Go home, Gilda." Cloud doors didn't slam well – they made a soft 'poof' sound no matter how hard they were closed – but Dash gave it a shot.

Gilda stared at the flat cloud wall for a moment, then her talons clenched. Ripping up huge chunks of cloud from beneath her feet, she screeched with rage and lashed at the air with her powerful wings and forelegs. "Fine! Whatever, loser!" she shouted, turning on her back legs with a disdainful sneer. "I'll go hang with someone in Cloudsdale! Someone cool! No one back home misses you, you know! Loser!" Firing the last word over her shoulder, she took off with a powerful leap into the storm.

"Stupid lame Rainbow Dash," she hissed, turning west toward Cloudsdale. "Dumb loser lamer pony with dumb loser friends. I'll show her. Someone cool in Cloudsdale will let me hang with them." Oh yeah? Like who, birdbrain? "Like… uh… shut up, I know a ton of cool people in Cloudsdale…" How many of 'em still think you're cool, huh? And even if you do find someone, they're not gonna be anywhere near as cool as her—

Gilda shook her head fiercely. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She caught the top of a massive pine tree with her talons and clung to it as it swayed in the wind and rain, shouting at herself to drown out the niggling little voice in the back of her mind. "I – am – the coolest-!"

There was a sudden sensation, like a massive updraft, as all of Gilda's hair and feathers stood on end at once. She had time to look up. "Oh, shi—"

It was summer again, which meant that thunderstorms now and again were to be expected, really. They were important for giving rain to plants and animals, and some ponies liked the flash and noise, the strange prickling of their coats before the first rain began to fall, the distant rumbling of thunder in the distance…

Fluttershy couldn't hold back a small shudder. It was just as well that she'd been asleep for most of the storm last night. She'd hated them ever since she was a filly; it was okay if she had someone else to comfort, because then she could just focus on making them feel better, but Angel enjoyed thunderstorms and Hummingway didn't care about them either way. So it was hard for her sometimes.

A few hops behind her, Angel noticed the shudder and shook his head. He tapped Fluttershy's leg impatiently, gesturing further down the simple dirt track that ran past the chicken coop and into the skirts of the Everfree Forest. Fluttershy started at the contact, then smiled at the rabbit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Angel," she said, bending down to pick up the simple basket at her feet. "I just got a little distracted, that's all." Putting the basket on her back, she looked up at the sky. The horizon to the east, over the still-sleeping Ponyville, was streaked with vibrant purple, navy and gold; to the west, over the forest, remnants of the night and the storm combined to hang dark and still overhead. Fluttershy didn't feel any more rain in the air, though, so she set out with what was, for her, confidence.

The ground was still soft and cool from last night's rain, and every now and then, water collected in a leaf somewhere would overflow and drip to the ground. This was the best time to gather stormflowers; the grey blossoms streaked with royal blue and silver when it rained, but unless they were picked like that, they lost their color in just a few hours. There was a field of them growing nearby, and Fluttershy picked her way toward it, doing her best not to jump in fear at every little sound. This was just the outskirts of the Forest, after all, and Ponyville… and her friends… were just a short run away.

"Uuuuuuogh…" Fluttershy froze as a deathly moan echoed through the trees. Run away, was it? Yes, that sounded like a great idea. She took off, Angel following angrily behind, only to slow and finally stop as the sound repeated itself.

"Angel, that doesn't sound like someone trying to be scary," she said, looking back. "Do you think… maybe someone needs help?" Angel looked iffy, but he followed Fluttershy as the yellow pegasus turned and walked cautiously toward the sound.

As it happened, the origin of the sound wasn't far away at all, and Fluttershy felt a little tickle of fear as she got even closer. She rounded a particularly wide pine tree and stopped, struck by the sight in front of her.

A mass of brown and white, a bedraggled gryphon, lay crumpled among a vast carpet of stormblossoms. A large area of the blooms had been crushed by the creature's powerful wings and legs as she rolled around, leaving a vaguely circular flat patch around her. As Fluttershy stepped closer, she was able to get a better look at her. The end of her left wing was burned; it didn't look too serious, except for the missing pinfeathers, but it must have hurt – meaning the gryphon was unconscious, not asleep. Not that deeply, though, since she groaned again.

Fluttershy set the basket down, then took a step forward. "I'll be right back. Don't you worry," she said soothingly. She turned to Angel. "Will you watch her for me? Please?" At the rabbit's nod, Fluttershy smiled. "Thank you." She dashed off through the trees, heading back to Ponyville. Angel watched her go, then sighed and shook his head. Pulling the basket closer, he started picking the flowers that hadn't been trampled by the gryphon or the pony.

The first thing that Gilda registered as her mind surfaced, from the depths of unconsciousness through dreaming and finally into wakefulness, was the pain. Well, the pain and how she didn't feel it anymore, which was a nice change from the past… however long the pain had been there. The sogginess and the chill were gone, too; she was wrapped in warmth and softness, like the cloud beds at Flight School, but also somehow like her parents' nest in the foothills of the Drackenridge Mountains. It took something special to remind her of that. There was a pillow under her head and a blanket over her shoulders – carefully arranged so it didn't ride over her wings – and all was right with the world.

"I knew you'd come around, Dash," she murmured, eyes still closed. This was obviously Dash's couch (which really was super-sweet, apparently), and she was resting in Dash's living room. There was a quiet little squeaky sound from somewhere to her right, but she ignored it. "See, you really are cool after all. I guess I was wrong – it was those dumb ponies that made you act like that. I guess I should-"

There was another squeaky noise, and this time it resolved itself into words. Kind of. "You're… Gilda… oh no…" Which didn't sound like something Dash would ever say. Which meant…

Gilda's eyes flew open and she pushed herself up, looking around. She was in some kind of cottage filled with junk – birdhouses and doll furniture and crayon pictures, paintings of flowers and vines on the walls… and a timid little lump of a yellow pegasus, trembling by the staircase. Late afternoon light filtered through a nearby window. "You," Gilda hissed, levering herself to her feet. "You're that whiny little crybaby." The springy mattress under her feet – not clouds, just whatever it was stupid earth ponies slept on – sank unpredictably, giving her trouble, but she managed to stay upright. At least, until she tried to spread her wings.

Pain shot through her left wing, along with a horrible feeling of confinement – it wouldn't open! She had time to glance over and see it wrapped in bandages, and secured to her side, before the imbalance tipped her off the bed and sent her sprawling to the floor. She came up roaring, talons digging into the floorboards, and advanced on Fluttershy. "Oh, yeah, I remember you, you spineless wimp. You're the one who told Pinkie Pie to set up that dumb party."

Fluttershy backed up into the corner, head down and legs tucked in. Her eyes were glued to the angry gryphon. "N-no, that wasn't… I mean… Gilda, you shouldn't be out of bed…"

"No? Oh, I'm so sorry," Gilda snarled. "Untie my wing! Right now!"

Fluttershy shook her head, nearly in tears. "I- I can't," she murmured. "You're hurt. Please get back in bed-"

"You telling me what to do?" Gilda shouted, sitting. "Fine! I'll do it myself!" She twisted to cut at the bandages with her talons, but suddenly – Gilda didn't even see her move – Fluttershy was in her way. And she was staring into Gilda's very soul.

"Stop picking at your bandages and get back into bed, young lady," she said firmly. Gilda found herself obeying without any intention at all of doing so, and in no time she was back in bed, feet folded under her and surprisingly calm. There were a few seconds of silence.

"I… what the heck did you just do to me?" Gilda finally asked, shock for the moment overriding everything else. Fluttershy seemed to melt at the question, and she looked pretty much everywhere but at her grumpy patient.

"O-oh, it's… it's nothing special," she said, quietly enough that Gilda had to hold very still to keep any rustling fabric from overriding her. "I'm sorry I used it on you – I didn't mean to, really. I deal with hurt animals all the time, though, and I just…" her voice trailed off into silence.

"You calling me an animal?" Gilda asked, annoyed. The ease with which the little yellow pegasus had steered her ruffled her feathers, literally, and she gladly took the opportunity to start getting angry again. She knew angry, knew how it worked and how to rock it. Anger was her home. "Yeah, I've never heard that one before."

Though it didn't seem possible, Fluttershy shrank even more. "N-no… I… I didn't mean… it was just kind of… instinct, you're so badly hurt…"

"I'm not hurt at all," Gilda snarled. "You don't know shit about gryphons, pony. You're really gonna sit there and lie to my face?" She sat up and twisted to her side again, then paused and sarcastically held her claws up to show she had no intention of picking at her bandages. And then, for the first time, she got down to actually inspecting her injuries.

A chill ran down her spine as she took it in. Her wing was securely and professionally bandaged to her side; she might not know gryphons, but Fluttershy obviously knew wings. Most of the bandages were very familiar – simple linen strips, good friends of Gilda's from every sprain, tear and pull she'd accumulated over the years. Under those, though… under those, there was heavier fabric. Not a lot of it, but enough to make her feel very lucky there wasn't more. Burn bandages.

"…How bad is it?" she asked finally, looking away. The anger had been doused in an instant, and the ashes lay sick and curdled and dripping in her stomach. It was the first thing any eaglet learned: a damaged wing meant sloppy flight at best, no flight at all at worst. And there were things in the night that not even a full-grown buck gryphon stood a chance against, if he was grounded. If the damage was permanent…

"You lost several of your primaries," Fluttershy replied quietly, "and you've suffered some burns to the down and skin in that region." She seemed slightly more at ease discussing medical matters, and her voice grew stronger as she continued. "If you rest and eat well, you should be better in a few weeks, though I don't know when your feathers will grow back."

Gilda swallowed hard against the rush of relief that filled her throat. "Cool," she finally managed to croak. "That's… that's cool." She settled back down to the mattress, hoping that Fluttershy wouldn't notice the shakiness in her arms. She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked over at the pegasus, who was looking at her with an odd expression. "…What?"

Fluttershy jumped. "O-oh, nothing," she said, hiding behind the pale pink curtain of her mane. "It's nothing, really, Gilda." She straightened up very slightly, and took a step closer to the bed. "You should get back to bed," she said. "I'm sure you're tired." And as she said it, Gilda noticed that she was. She hadn't gotten Stared this time, though, so it probably wasn't pony mind control again.

"I'll tell you when I'm tired," she shot back, but it was a poor effort and she knew it. Fluttershy didn't even shy away from her. "I'm only gonna stay tonight, got it?" Gilda continued, settling down. "Don't get me wrong. If I spent a whole month here, I'd go absolutely buggy with you laming it up all over the place. So I'm leaving as soon as it gets light." She pointedly ignored the fact that it was currently around noon, judging from the light coming through the window.

Fluttershy nodded along with her. "Do you need anything else?" she asked. Gilda shook her head.

"Just get the lights," she said, closing her eyes. There was a quiet sound of hoofsteps, and the blanket was pulled back up over the gryphon's taut shoulders and gently guided over both her wings. Gilda grunted dismissively and the vaguely flower-scented presence moved away to the head of the stairs. The lights dimmed – she even remembered to close the shutters – and then there were a few moments of warm, dark quiet.

"Um… sleep well…" Fluttershy offered, almost hopefully.

Gilda snorted at her. "Yeah, whatever." She waited until the pegasus' hoofsteps on the stairs had faded, then turned over, resting her chin on the pillow. It was almost all gone by now, but still… somehow, under the soft whatever it was of the mattress, she felt straw, and clouds, and mountain sunrises and sunsets. She buried her face into the pillow.

"…Stupid pony."

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There we go. Unlike Fluttershy, I don't know wings, so I don't know how badly Gilda's injury would actually set her up; let's just say a few weeks and go with that, huh?

Nightmares and Alfalfa

And here's chapter 2. First off, I'd like to apologize to everyone who seems to have been misled into thinking this'll turn out GildaShy. Apparently writing subtext isn't something you can just turn off. So, sorry for that, GildaShy fans. It's GildaDash.

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"Hey there, Moondancer. Where ya goin'?"

The silvery-gray filly froze in place as Gilda spoke up, her wings rising involuntarily from the surprise. It was just a thing that happened to pegasi – some kind of excitement reaction, she'd seen it a million times – but it made them, especially the jumpy ones, easy to read… and Moondancer was one of the jumpiest ponies Gilda knew. The pegasus, looking rather like an eaglet caught with her claw in the squirrel jar, turned around to face Gilda as she stepped out from behind a building, and let out a rather weak chuckle as the gryphon joined her on a nearby puff of cloud.

"Oh, hi, Gilda. D-didn't see you there." Moondancer tried, with some success, to furl her wings. Gilda felt some predatory satisfaction; it had been extremely boring holing up on Level One. Cloudsdale didn't get much first-level traffic, even in the central avenue, and she'd been there for nearly an hour with her eyes peeled for somepony she could easily collar. Moondancer fit that bill. "Going?" the pegasus continued, with another annoyingly weak laugh. "Aha, no, I wasn't really going anywhere in particular, really…"

Gilda raised an eyebrow. "That's a fancy-ass skirt for 'nowhere in particular'," she said, mocking Moondancer's high voice. "About right for Sunstroke's party, though. Funny how I heard that got canceled."

"Um, it is," Moondancer replied, leaping a bit too eagerly to agree. "Canceled. It, yeah, that got canceled. So I'm going home now. See you around…" She hopped into the air, wings out, only to be pulled back down as Gilda threw a seemingly friendly arm around her shoulders.

"Canceled, huh?" she asked. "Guess that makes sense, yeah. All those ponies I saw going to Sunstroke's house must've been going to help him move all the party stuff they wouldn't need." Moondancer opened her mouth – probably to agree, which would've pissed Gilda off, so she patted her firmly on the shoulder and she shut her mouth again. "Listen, Moondancer," she said casually. "You're cool, right? You wouldn't lie to me?"

Moondancer tried to speak up again, but Gilda patted her again, harder. "Listen, you little filly-fooler," she growled softly. "You suck at lying, so quit insulting me and fess up." The little pegasus quivered next to her; she was staring at her hooves. "This is the fifth time so far some party's been mysteriously 'canceled' right after I heard about it. So tell me." She leaned down, wicked beak inches from soft pony nose. "What's. Going. On."

"I… I…" Moondancer trembled, her eyes darting all over the place. "The… the truth is…" she swallowed hard, then squeezed her eyes shut and shouted: "Everypony hates you, Gilda!"

Gilda was so shocked that she let the silver filly go. Moondancer immediately burst up out of her reach and hovered there, glaring at her.

"That's right, everyone hates you," she said, angry tears standing out in her eyes. "Birdy Blue heard what you said about him, you know! And none of us thought it was funny, either! We just laughed because we were scared of you!" She blinked fast, trying to clear her eyes. "You changed, Gilda! You used to be so cool, and everyone looked up to you!"

"They never did," Gilda cried, taking an angry step forward. "Don't you lie to me!"

"We did," Moondancer replied hotly. She'd failed in keeping the tears back, and hot liquid sprinkled Gilda's claws as the pegasus shook her head. "Everypony wanted to be like you, but you're so different now! You changed. You got nasty, and cruel, and mean." She hiccupped. "Y-you just couldn't stand it when-"

"Don't you dare," Gilda snarled, but it was too late.

"When Dash left you here alone," Moondancer cried. Gilda roared in fury and launched herself into the air after the pegasus, but she didn't get far. Her left wing crumpled into a charred wreck, and she fell to the cloud, landing badly. When she picked herself up, a ring of ponies surrounded her, watching her silently – all ponies whose names she knew. Sunstroke and Milly and Birdy Blue and Pinkie Pie and Moondancer… and, standing right in front of her, Rainbow Dash.

"Dash," Gilda cried, standing. "You came back-" But Dash merely looked at her for a long moment, then her eyes flicked to the burning stump on Gilda's back. Her vibrant pink eyes filled with an emotion more painful than scorn, crueler than hate; she pitied the stricken gryphon, and her expression pushed steel blades into Gilda's heart.

"No," Gilda croaked. "Dash, no… I can still… still fly…" She stumbled toward the beautiful blue pegasus, but the cloud she stood on grew soft and yielding and caught at her feet. The other ponies in the circle now wore Wonderbolts uniforms; they took off in pairs, filling the air with thunderclouds that blotted out the sun. As Gilda watched, mired in cloud to her knees, Dash set her own goggles down over her eyes and turned away.

"No!" Gilda shouted, as Dash's rainbow trail burst into view and was immediately swallowed up by the treacherous dark clouds. She struggled against the cloud, but it did no good; it held her fast… until she felt it begin to thin under her feet.

The cloud parted, and, wing flapping crazily, she fell.

Fluttershy was making breakfast in the kitchen. The sun had been up for an hour or so, and she had already made a trip into Ponyville to pick up some supplies for the creatures in her care – not least among them Gilda. It had crossed her mind before that oats and apples might not cut it for the sleek, powerful gryphon, but now she paused halfway through tossing a second bowl of alfalfa salad. Though she'd been avoiding the thought, wouldn't meat be more suitable for her grouchy patient…?

It wasn't like she hadn't dealt with carnivores before. They were fairly common in the Everfree Forest, and even though she rarely even entered the outskirts, she'd come across small, and not-so-small, piles of chewed bones more than once. She always did what she could for them, which wasn't really much, but she liked to think it gave the creatures some peace of mind. Even some of the critters in Ponyville were carnivores too, though – the families of ferrets by the river, for instance. Still, familiarity didn't really mean—

She was lost deep in thought when there was a colossal shout, followed by a heavy thump from the floor above. "Gilda?" she called, leaving the alfalfa where it fell and rushing up the stairs.

When she reached the head of the staircase, a strange sight greeted her: Gilda, tangled in the sheets and blanket from the bed, was lying on the floor, seemingly unable to move. She hissed in frustration and a bit of pain as she struggled against the cloth; her limbs were caught, and every time she moved her feet the twisted sheet pulled at her unbound wing.

"Are you alright?" Fluttershy asked, stepping closer. Gilda stiffened as she heard the pegasus's voice – with a sheet lying over her eyes, she hadn't seen her approach– but relaxed again after a moment.

"Been better," she growled, trying to furl her wing again. It didn't work, and she let out a pained and exasperated sigh that carried a few overtones of a lion's roar. "These damn sheets—"

"Here," Fluttershy said, guiding the edge of the sheet off of the gryphon's wing. A short time later, the tangled bedclothes and ruffled gryphon lay in separate piles, both looking slightly the worse for wear, but mostly intact.

"That never happened," Gilda spoke up eventually, standing. "Got it? You didn't see anything." She stalked over to the pile of sheets, nabbed the blanket with her beak, and got back into bed, pulling it inexpertly over herself. It was clear she didn't want to talk, and part of Fluttershy – a large part, to be honest – was fine with giving her her own way. But the other part – the part that got angry when her friends were hurt; the part that let her jump chasms – told her to step up, and she did. Carefully.

"Gilda, are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly, sitting down by the head of the bed. Her rug was soft and plush, and comfortable underneath her.

One eagle eye poked out from under the blanket; it looked angry. "I said nothing happened, right?" Gilda said firmly. "Go away. I'm going back to sleep." The upturned edge of the blanket flopped back down. Fluttershy stood up quickly.

"Um, you can tell me about it!" She offered quickly, speaking fast to get the words out before she thought better of it. There was a stony silence from beneath the blanket, and Fluttershy continued on, shrinking back down to the rug with every word. "That is, if you want to and you wouldn't be too upset by it and you… you… ..." The end of the sentence degenerated into a quiet squeak.

There was no reply from the gryphon, and Fluttershy's head drooped. Still, she could tell that Gilda wasn't asleep and wouldn't be for a long time, and it seemed cruel to leave her alone with her nightmare.

"Um…" she spoke up again. "If you'd like, I made some food… oh! And once you feel strong enough, you can have visitors," she offered, injecting cheer into her voice. "I can go tell Rainbow—"

"No! No!" Gilda shouted, throwing the blanket off. There was a wild look in her eyes, but for once it wasn't anger – well, not predominantly anger – but fear. She didn't quite fall off the bed, but it was close. She calmed down quickly and settled her feet under her like a cat, looking troubled, and seemed at a loss for words. "Fine, I'll tell you," she mumbled finally. "You play dirty, pony."

Fluttershy parked herself back down on the rug, which was easy since Gilda's outburst had caused her back legs to give out anyway. The gryphon shot her an annoyed look as she got comfortable. "You blackmail all your patients like this?" she asked archly. Fluttershy shook her head meekly, and Gilda rolled her eyes. "Just me, then. Fan-frickin'-tastic." Fluttershy opened her mouth; Gilda suppressed a sigh and held up a hand. "I'm joking. Shut up."

Host properly chastised, Gilda stalled for another few moments before she began. She detailed what she could remember of the nightmare, though once Dash made an appearance, her tail began lashing and she had to clasp her claws together to keep from tearing rents in the mattress.

"That's it," Gilda finished dully. She seemed eminently interested in paring one of her talons with another; the quiet scraping sound was all that could be heard for a few moments. After a long minute, she looked over at Fluttershy, who had an odd expression on her face. "What?"

Fluttershy was not a pony given to earth-shaking revelations. She wasn't like Twilight, who had to understand how and why everything worked the way it did; for the most part, she just learned the ways of the world and accepted them for what they were. But now she felt the same rush of wonder she had the first time she'd ever witnessed a birth, and she couldn't help the smile that crept across her face.

Gilda didn't like it. "What's that for? Are you making fun of me?" She drew herself up to her full height, and even injured and bedraggled, the gryphon cut an imposing figure. Rock-solid muscles stood out beneath her tan fur; her golden eyes flashed dangerously. Fluttershy smiled beatifically up at her, not afraid at all. After all…

"You're in love with Rainbow Dash, aren't you, Gilda?"

Gilda froze. There was a deafening silence.

"What did you just say?" Gilda asked, sitting down.

Fluttershy, still smiling, stood up; the gryphon's head was still at twice the height of hers. "Oh, don't worry, I think it's wonderful!" she said. "I'm so happy for you!"

Gilda felt like her body had been pinned in place by that damned smile. "No, you've got it wrong," she managed. She was right back in the nightmare, mired in the cloud again, and she could only hope that it would open up and let her fall to her death already. "It's not like that. She's just…" A friend? Moondancer was your friend once. Wasn't Dash different, even back then? "Just a good friend, that's all…" The voice inside her crowed with laughter. Not after what you said to her, buddy! You've ballsed it up for good this time!

"She doesn't know, does she?" Fluttershy asked quietly, no longer smiling. There was a moment of silence, and Gilda shut her eyes tightly against the unfamiliar, painful tingling in them. She shook her head. When she trusted herself to open her eyes again, Fluttershy was looking at her strangely. Yeah, yeah; one more pony added to that count.

"I'm going home," Gilda said quietly. She stepped almost gingerly down from the bed, past Fluttershy, and headed for the stairs. As she reached the top, though, Fluttershy spoke from behind her.

"When you say 'home'…" The question was implicit in her voice. Gilda shrugged as best she could, not turning around.

"Cloudsdale, I guess?" she said. "I never had my own house there – rented from this dippy old pegasus. Might see if he still has room."

"Your wing won't be healed for weeks," Fluttershy reminded her gently. "How will you get up there? Or get around once you do?"

"Pay a pegasus with a cart…" Gilda started, but even as she said it her entire body shuddered with abject shame at the idea. Proud Gilda, who had departed Cloudsdale hurling insults, returning injured, pulled along in a cart like a shriveled old pigeon? No. Never.

"…Fine. Not Cloudsdale, then," she said, starting down the stairs. "Back to the Drackenridges…" …where she would be snared by a Cavesong or torn apart by a basilisk the first night she spent on the ground.

"I'll live in a hole in the damn Everfree Forest if I have to," she shouted, more at herself than at Fluttershy, "but I am not staying here!" She had reached the door now, and stretched out a hand to push it open.

"Why not?' asked Fluttershy softly.

Despite herself, Gilda stopped in pushing the door open. Behind her, Fluttershy stepped down off the staircase and joined her by the door, not pushing the gryphon's personal space. "You're not a bad person, Gilda," she said. "I'm sure of it. You just haven't been shown any kindness for a long time." She stepped back – one deliberate step, taking her out of the range at which she could get between Gilda and the door before it was opened. "I won't stop you if you want to go. But know that you're welcome to stay here anytime, for as long as you like – and I'll help you with anything you want to do while you're here."

The little yellow pegasus spoke quietly, but the conviction in her voice was unshakeable, and Gilda knew she was absolutely sincere. It wasn't an emotion she was used to feeling or seeing in others, and it made her uncomfortable – but it also felt… nice.

After a long moment, Gilda lowered her hand. The feeling of utter stillness in the air – which Gilda hadn't noticed until just now – broke, and both pegasus and gryphon relaxed subconsciously. Fluttershy stepped back over to the counter to right her spilled salad, and Gilda turned away from the door to watch her.

"Hey," she said after a minute, sitting back on her haunches. "Is that breakfast?"

Fluttershy looked up, scooping spoon in her mouth, and nodded. Gilda chuckled honestly for what felt like the first time in years, and shook her head.

"No grass for me, thanks. I'm sure it's great and whatever, but…" she waggled her fingers, displaying her talons. "I'm heading into the Forest for a bit. I'll be back." And she would be, she knew – and so did Fluttershy. She pushed open the door and took a deep breath of fresh air, her first in several days. It felt somehow even more refreshing than she'd expected.

"Hey… Fluttershy?" It was the first time Gilda had called her by name, and Fluttershy looked up, surprised. The gryphon was smiling at her – not frowning, not scowling, not even smirking. Smiling. "Thanks," she said. "For a lot of stuff."

Then she stepped out into the sun.

Memories and Candlelight

It occurs to me that I should finish this story before S2 starts up and there's a chance, however slight, of Gilda making a reappearance and messing with my continuity.

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"You've got to be joking. Tell me you're joking."

Fluttershy shook her head gently, being careful not to pull at the bandages. She looped the somewhat grubby bolt of cloth around one more time, then set the small roll that had accumulated in her mouth down to reply. "No, that's how it happened," she replied. "Extend your wing, please. Be careful, okay?"

It was raining again; the windows had been shut firmly against the wind and the rain, and the warm curtains drawn fast against the storm-dark summer twilight. Inside, pools of candlelight cast shadows around the room. Fluttershy's candle rested on the floor next to her; its light mixed with that of the candle on Gilda's bedside table, softening the edges of the world into shadow beyond the little puddle of brightness. Sitting nearby, Gilda nodded, pulling the last of the sling bandage from her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah." Gilda extended the bandaged limb gingerly, as if she expected any second for it to be shocked by a bolt of static electricity; but the only thing she felt was a sore, stale ache, and she rolled her shoulder irritably. "Damn, I'm stiff. So, yeah – you're saying you got knocked out of Cloudsdale, landed in a pile of bugs, and that was enough to get you your whatever mark?" She snorted. "Wow. That's so pathetic I almost feel sorry for you. That's pathetic on an entirely different level than walking around with pictures on your ass in the first place. It's, like, super pathetic." She twitched as Fluttershy finished another pass around her wing. "Hey, watch it."

Nice Gilda had lasted until about nightfall; her walls of sarcasm and scorn had gone back up as the sun went down. Something about the gryphon had softened, though; her barbs didn't sting as much as they had before, and Fluttershy didn't think it was just because she was starting to get used to the gryphon's abrasive manner.

"That wasn't what gave me my cutie mark, Gilda," Fluttershy said mildly, standing for a moment to stretch out her legs. The pile of bandages on the rug was almost up to her fetlocks; the heavier burn bandages alone were left on Gilda's wing, and she had their replacements right at hoof. "It was comforting the animals after Rainbow Dash's Sonic Rainboom."

Gilda looked for a moment like she was going to let go with another sarcastic comment, but she paused. "Oh, right," she said, her eyes growing slightly softer for a moment. Fluttershy wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been watching for it, but she had been, and she smiled very softly as she picked up the new bandages. "Wish I'd been able to see that. Was probably… a year or so before I got to Cloudsdale," Gilda mused, thinking back. "I – ow!" Gilda hissed as Fluttershy removed the last of the bandages, but she managed to keep her wing outstretched. "Warn me next time, you dipstick!" She twisted her neck to glare at the yellow pegasus, and in doing so she got her first good look at her injury.

Her first thought was, Ow. Somehow, looking at it made it start to burn again; whatever Fluttershy had done for her apparently wouldn't stand up to some idiot looking straight at it and going Well now, that really should be more painful than it is. Like Fluttershy had said, she'd lost her second and third primaries at about the halfway point; the down below was blackened, either from burning or from the smoke of her other feathers. She thought she might be able to glide if she had to, but flying was straight out. Her whole wing felt hot and tender, and looking at it reminded her just how close of a call she'd had. Suppressing a shudder, she looked away.

She tensed again as Fluttershy laid the new bandages on; there was a cool sort of paste on them that smelled slightly minty when she got a whiff of it. Whatever it was, it soothed the slowly intensifying burn, and Gilda settled her hackles back down as Fluttershy got to rewrapping her wing. "…You're not bad at this," she said finally, occupying herself tracing doodles and obscene words into the weave of the rug with a talon. "Get a lot of practice?"

Fluttershy tied off the wing wrapping with a professional nip and tug, then nodded. "I help a lot of birds," she said quietly, tossing her head to throw the roll of bandages across Gilda's broad shoulders. "This close to the E-Everfree Forest, there's really no one else to look after them when they get hurt…" The thought of the alternative visibly upset her, and she only seemed to remember what she was doing after a few moments.

"And you've been doing this since then? On your own?" Gilda asked, frowning. Fluttershy walked around her and retrieved the roll, working on remaking the sling she had woken up in. Gilda bit back a sigh at her poking around, and soon Fluttershy answered her.

"Oh, I'm not alone. I have Angel bunny and all my other friends – and Twilight, Rarity, Dash, Pinkie Pie and Applejack, too," she said, smiling as she pulled the sling taut with a gentle tug. "There, all better."

"Hardly," Gilda sniffed, but a bemused smirk tugged at the corner of her beak. Fluttershy was so damn straightforward, it was almost ridiculous. As Fluttershy set to cleaning up the discarded bandages, scooping them up with her hooves and depositing them in the trash, Gilda stood and stretched, still not quite used to having her wing confined. "But you taught yourself all this medical crap, right?"

"Um, mostly," Fluttershy agreed. "About setting bones and treating injuries and things like that, yes… and surgery, too... Sometimes I find bodies in the forest, and… well, it's important to know certain things, to help others… I always try my best to be respectful…" Ignorant of Gilda's suddenly raised eyebrows, she looked down at her feet, obviously slightly uncomfortable with the subject. "Um… you said you came to Cloudsdale about a year after the Sonic Rainboom, right…? …Where did you live, um, before that…?"

"No," Gilda replied firmly, accepting the awkward change in subject if not the destination. Fluttershy looked up, confused, and Gilda shook her head. "This is not Happy Share Time," she said, clambering up into bed. "You wanna babble about your past, go right ahead. But I'm not gonna play You Show Me Yours with you."

"Oh. Okay," Fluttershy replied, looking slightly downcast. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Gilda grunted, half-and-half an acknowledgement and a dismissal, and stretched out over the covers. Fluttershy bent down and picked up her candleholder, teeth clamped firmly on the worn wooden handle, and turned to leave.

"Hey," Gilda said quietly. Fluttershy stopped, surprised, and turned to look back at her. Gilda didn't return her gaze; she had her eyes closed, and looked for all the world like she was dozing, or asleep. Her voice, though, had held an edge of tension that belied her appearance. Fluttershy set the candle down, but didn't speak, and after a minute Gilda continued. Her voice was very low; Fluttershy almost had to strain to hear her next words. "It was… everything she always said it was, wasn't it?"

Fluttershy nodded, knowing immediately what the gryphon meant. "It was amazing," she said, her voice just as low as Gilda's. It was a little hard to bring the vibrant colors, the sweeping wind and the palpable sense of power into the little sphere of candlelight, but she closed her eyes and tried her best. "I've never seen anything so magnificent aside from the Princess. And she saved Rarity's life, and the Wonderbolts', too…"

"Yeah," Gilda replied, nodding slightly. "Yeah, that's how it should've been. Even in Flight School, she… well, yeah. You know how she is. She was always the coolest."

Fluttershy blinked at the gryphon. "You were in Flight School with Rainbow Dash?"

Gilda cracked an eye and looked at the pegasus, frowning slightly. "Yeah, we were in the same class. What about it?"

"If you were in the same class…" Fluttershy smiled gently, unable to stop herself. "That means I'm a year older than you."

Gilda blinked, taken aback. "No," she said finally, shaking her head. "Nope. Not possible." Her tone was one of such absolute disbelief that Fluttershy almost questioned her own math for a minute, but she rebounded.

"It's true," she said. "I'm older than most of my friends." She looked down at her hooves, suddenly uncertain again. "Because… I was never very good at flying… and I'm very shy. I didn't have anyone to help me when I had trouble… until I met Rainbow Dash."

Fluttershy took a deep breath. "She was always helping me, and standing up for me, even though I was… well… the way I am." She smiled, weakly but genuinely, and looked up at Gilda. "She's a very good person."

Gilda swallowed hard. "Yeah, she is." You changed, Gilda. "Better than me, that's for damn sure…" she muttered, turning away from Fluttershy. She reached out and pinched her candle's wick, snuffing the flame out; the remaining light from Fluttershy's candle behind her cast tall shadows on the far wall, dark against dark, and Gilda closed her eyes, suddenly eager to get to sleep and end the conversation.

"Are you sure you don't want visitors?" Fluttershy asked, very quietly. Gilda stiffened, but didn't turn around.

"Yeah," she said firmly. "Last time I saw her…" You changed. I didn't think I'd see you again, after what you said about my friends. She shrugged, affecting a casualness she didn't feel at all. "Things didn't go that smooth."

"I'm sorry," Fluttershy said, and she sounded so damn earnest, like she actually meant it.

Gilda's hackles stood up, and she glared at the pegasus. "You really think apologizing will make me feel better? More like, what the hell do you have to apologize for? It wasn't your fault," she growled. She drew a deep breath and laced her claws together, talons scraping across her tough, horny skin. "Look, I'm smart enough to know when I screw myself over," she said finally, not sounding happy about it. "What Dash said was…" The fucking flip-flop threw you out. You drew a line and she picked her side. It had to happen someday! Just a matter of time. Gilda swallowed. "…she was right. About all of it. I did every damn thing to myself." She shrugged again, this time not caring about the pull at her side.

"Whatever. That's it. End of the story." She laid down again, closing her eyes. "There isn't a damn thing I can do now that'll make it up to her." As she said it she knew it was true, and she swallowed the bitter lump in her throat.

"That's not true," Fluttershy said suddenly, almost knocking her candle over. "It's just not!" Gilda didn't even bother opening her eyes. Fluttershy trembled a little, but she continued. "I-If you're talking about what happened at the party… or… I mean, with the ducklings…" After a moment more of trembling, she pushed forward: "I was scared of you at first... and, um, I've been scared of you since then, really… but I'm not scared of you anymore," she said, from beside the bed. "I forgive you, Gilda." She laid her head on Gilda's shoulder, being careful of her wing. "And I'm sure the others will too."

Gilda's entire body felt electrified, every hair and feather standing on end. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, looking back at Fluttershy.

The yellow pegasus looked somewhat abashed, but didn't stop nuzzling her. Gilda growled at her, but little by little she felt her hackles go back down; within a few minutes, the unpleasant alert feeling – too much like the charge in the air just before the lightning had struck – had vanished, to be replaced by comfortable warmth. Fluttershy sat down by the bed, her head resting comfortably on the mattress by Gilda's forearm; Gilda could feel the warmth from her cheek.

"Why are you doing all this for me?" she asked finally, looking down at the pegasus. "Really, I mean."

Fluttershy let out a contented sigh, and didn't reply right away. When she did, she spoke quietly, hard for Gilda to hear even so close by. "Because we're friends, right?"

Gilda nearly pulled away at that, but Fluttershy's quiet breathing had deepened, and her eyes had slipped closed. "Go sleep somewhere else," Gilda muttered, but she was careful not to disturb the sleeping pony as she stretched out. "Friends, huh?" she sniffed. "Yeah, whatever…" But she still felt the yellow pony's warmth. As she closed her eyes, she heard Fluttershy's voice again: I forgive you. And I'm sure the others will too.

A faint smile touched Gilda's beak as she finally drifted off, the seeds of an idea growing slowly but surely in her mind. It was a stupid plan – nothing she'd ever have considered even three days ago – but somehow, she felt confident it would work… with a little help from a friend.

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Next chapter should have Applejack in it, unless something goes terribly wrong while I'm writing.

Thanks as always for reading, folks, and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic as things progress.

Apples and Pride

Well now! I can hardly believe the numbers - this chapter nearly doubles the current word count! Thanks so much for all the comments and reviews - your patience with my schedule is much appreciated, and thank you all for giving Gilda the chance to prove herself, however slowly.

Fluttershy woke up slowly, letting wakefulness seep into her body. A few swishes of her tail, back and forth; next, her legs, then her back, as she got her feet under her and stretched her rump up into the air. Finally, with a shake of her head and a few flicks of her ears, she opened her eyes…

…To find Gilda sitting nearby, watching her with a claw pressed against her beak and an expression that suggested she was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Fluttershy immediately shrank back, feeling her face heat, and she stammered as she looked around, belatedly remembering where she was. The storm and the night had passed while she slept; by the pale golden sunlight streaming through the windows, it was midmorning, later than she usually slept. That, and the flattened patch of rug by the bed, explained the stiffness in her shoulders and back.

"I-I'm so sorry," she finally managed, apologizing to Gilda's feet. "I don't know what came over me last night – I was just very tired, I guess… I hope I didn't disturb you or make you uncomfortable or anything…" Even looking in the general direction of the gryphon was starting to get embarrassing. "Um…"

"No, no," Gilda choked, waving away the pegasus's consternation. "Don't worry about it. Really." She managed to hold off another second, then snorted and buried her head in her pillow. Muffled laughter was audible through the down, and Fluttershy whimpered a bit.

"Sorry! Sorry," Gilda gasped, coming back up for air. She flopped down onto the bedspread, still chuckling, and wiped a tear from her eye. "So… you do that rump-wiggle thing every morning?" she asked, grinning at Fluttershy. "'Cause I could get used to it."

Fluttershy blinked at Gilda for a moment, then her back legs gave out. "O-Oh," she stammered, her face on fire again. "I-I'm very flattered, Gilda, and you're a very pretty gryphon, but I'm… I'm not, um… I don't…like… um…"

Gilda stared at her. "What?" Then the pin dropped, and she reared back, looking horrified. "Wha— No! Hell no! I meant it was funny, not…! I'm not into pon—" Gilda stopped herself before she finished the patently untrue sentence. "I'm not into you, anyway. Not that you're not, y'know… oh, shit." She slumped back down onto the bed, pressing her claws over her eyes. There was a deafening silence as Fluttershy attempted to hide her entire body behind her mane.

Fortunately for them both, Angel cleared his throat from the top of the stairs; Gilda sprang gratefully to her feet, stepping down off the bed. "Come on, Fluttershy," she said, starting down the stairs. "Must be breakfast time or whatever." She nodded thanks to Angel, who rolled his eyes at her and motioned for Fluttershy to hurry up.

"So, I've been thinking," Gilda said a few minutes later, sitting down at the table. She'd been a little skeptical of eating pony food at first, but the bread Fluttershy had made for lunch yesterday wasn't bad at all, a hearty wheat bread with some sort of honey glaze on top; she shredded her loaf idly as she continued, occasionally eating a piece. "You said something about forgiving me last night. You think the others would too? Pinkie Pie and that old pony, I mean. I guess I was pretty much a bitch to everyone in Ponyville, come to think of it, but…" She shrugged, popping a breadball into her beak.

"I think they will," Fluttershy said, setting down Angel's breakfast and looking up. The rabbit set to with a vengeance, and Fluttershy joined Gilda at the table for her own meal. "Pinkie Pie is a good pony at heart; she's just a little... silly sometimes." She paused, munching a sprig of celery. "Um, by 'old pony', do you mean Granny Smith?"

Gilda shrugged again. "Old green pony. Didn't quite catch her name. I tricked her into thinking my tail was a snake." She swished her tail around to demonstrate the point.

Fluttershy gasped. "Gilda, that's so mean! She's very old. She might have hurt herself." She took another bite of celery, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Hey," Gilda replied, feeling surprisingly stung. "Look, where I come from, if you make it as far as old, you know how to take shit from people – that is, you don't. Not from anyone. It's not my fault your old folks don't –" She broke off with a visible effort. "Damn. Sorry." She sighed, resting her forehead on the edge of the table. "This is gonna suck. Just sayin'."

"I'm sorry," Fluttershy said quietly. "I know you're trying your best." She came around the table and leaned against Gilda's shoulder. "I'll help you-" She squeaked as a brisk knock sounded on the door.

"Expecting visitors?" Gilda asked archly, gently but firmly pushing Fluttershy away. She stood and stretched her powerful shoulders and legs as Fluttershy trotted over to the door, Angel following close behind. She turned to watch her hostess, only mildly interested in the knock.

"Not really," Fluttershy replied. "It might be-" she began, peeking through the little window inset in her door. "Ah! It's my friends!" She nosed the top section of her door open.

"Man, it's about time! Where the heck have you been for the past two days?" asked the blue pegasus whose nose was suddenly in her face. Rainbow Dash was hovering just about the cobblestones of Fluttershy's doorstep, resting her hooves on the door; she frowned at her yellow friend. "We were freakin' worried about you, you know! You can't just disappear off the face of the planet like that!"

"Rainbow, dear, please," Rarity said from behind her. A blue and magenta glow enveloped Dash and she floated backwards, wings beating futilely. "Give her some space. You must remember that not everypony is as, ah, robust as you." Dash sniffed as she was set down between her two companions, and Twilight Sparkle stepped forward as the glow of magic around her horn dissipated.

"Good morning, Fluttershy," she said, offering a patient smile. Fluttershy did her best to return it, and Twilight continued. "How have you been recently? I haven't seen you around town at all for a few days, and when I mentioned it to Rarity, she said the same, so we thought we'd come check up on you. We kind of ran into Rainbow Dash along the way." She looked back at Dash, who tapped a hoof impatiently.

"Oh, I-I've been just fine," Fluttershy said, looking off toward the kitchen. Gilda's face was just visible over the counter, her beak poking over the edge; she looked rather upset. "I've been taking care of a p-patient, so I've been kind of busy…" She checked with Gilda again, who nodded, still on edge.

"Oh, that's okay then," Twilight replied, visibly relieved. "We were just worried that, living so close to the forest, you might have run into something. Like a manticore or a cockatrice…" A small shiver passed through her, and she regained her focus with a visible effort. "Anyway, it's good to see you again! What sort of patient are you treating?"

"O-Oh," Fluttershy replied, eyes widening. She cast another look at Gilda, who had ducked entirely behind the counter; she was on her own. "She – um, he is, he's…a bear, that…"

"Come on," Dash replied, scowling. "That only works on Pinkie Pie." She pushed past Twilight to get back to the door. "Look, Fluttershy," she said quietly. "Have you seen Gilda at all? Like, yesterday or the day before that, maybe?"

Rarity paused in examining her pedicure. "Your gryphon friend? Ugh," she said, somehow making her disgust sound ladylike. "Trust me, Rainbow Dash, there is a sort that one must be careful not to associate with, and that dreadful gryphon counts quite firmly among them."

Dash frowned at her. "Hey! She's not…" she sighed, settling down onto the ground. "Yeah, okay, maybe," she continued quietly, after a moment. "I guess so."

Twilight turned to look at her friend. "I thought she lived in Cloudsdale, anyway," she said, looking a little confused. "Dash, is something going on? You've been jumpy the whole morning."

"N-no, nothing's wrong," Dash replied hotly. "I just, ugh, whatever. I have to go… practice some stuff. Or something. I'll catch you girls later." She turned around and rocketed off back toward Ponyville before any of her friends could speak up.

"She's been acting strangely lately," Twilight said, frowning after the rapidly vanishing prismatic trail in the morning air. "But you know how she is. It's a chore getting anything out of her, much less anything she doesn't want to talk about." She sighed. "Fluttershy, I'm sorry – I'm sure we woke you up. It's good to see you again, though, and remember that if you need any help, all you have to do is ask." She nuzzled the yellow pegasus through the open door, then stepped down off the doorstep.

"Do be sure not to forget our usual, dear," Rarity trilled, following suit. Fluttershy waved as they turned and headed down the cobbled path back through the thicket.

"Goodbye," she said quietly. She shut the door, then turned back to Gilda. The gryphon emerged from behind the counter slowly, making sure that the ponies had gone before she settled down. Her talons tapped rhythmically on the hardwood floor.

"Gilda, are you okay?" Fluttershy asked. Gilda said nothing; her gaze went straight through Fluttershy and into the couch against the far wall. The speed of her tapping increased slowly. Fluttershy took a tentative step toward her. "Gilda…?"

"Shit," Gilda shouted suddenly, shooting to her feet and pounding a hand against the floor. Fluttershy screamed and jumped backward onto the couch, startled, and Gilda jerked as the motion snapped her out of her reverie. Pegasus and gryphon stared at each other, bodies tense, for a few moments, then they relaxed. "Uh, sorry," Gilda said, folding her wing with difficulty and sitting down. "It's just… y'know… that." She made a gesture toward the door that somehow encompassed the entire exchange that had just occurred.

"Um," Fluttershy squeaked. She stepped down off the couch with trembling legs, her wings still fully up and out. "I don't… um…"

Gilda stood again; her entire body fairly hummed with tension, and she paced in a tight circle. "You heard what Dash said," she said, staring at her feet as she clicked across the floorboards. "She thinks I'm 'dreadful'." She sneered the word, adopting a prissy accent that was unkind to Rarity in its accuracy. "But hey, I knew that already." She drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a visible effort to stay calm. "Whatever. Starting from square one. I've done that shit before."

"Dash isn't like that," Fluttershy said quietly, regaining some of her composure, but Gilda didn't appear to be listening. She stalked over to the table and grabbed her half-eaten loaf, tearing a huge chunk off of it with her beak. Sitting down again, she finished off the bread; she drummed distractedly on the floor with a claw.

"So like I was saying," she said suddenly, after a minute. "Dash told me last time I saw her that we weren't friends anymore." The words hurt, but she ignored the twinge in her chest. "Because of what I said and did to her real friends." Helpless little twits. "So that means that if I get her friends to forgive me, then she won't have anything left to complain about. And we can…" she cut off, a sudden lump in her throat. "Well… yeah."

"You can be friends again," Fluttershy finished for her. She folded her wings and resettled them. "But Gilda, I-I'm not so sure-"

"No time like now," Gilda said briskly, standing. She stepped past Fluttershy to the door and nudged the top open, peeking out around the frame. "Your friends're gone. Let's go." She pulled her head back in and swung the rest of the door open, walking out into the morning sun.

"Gilda-" Fluttershy tried again, to similar effect. Staring down at her feet, she followed Gilda outside. The clouds had vanished with the night, leaving the morning dew and the crystal remnants of the rain to sparkle on the borderline between sunlight and shadow; the air felt fresh and clean, and the day was already heating up nicely.

"Man, it's good to be back outside," Gilda said, stretching her free wing in the late morning sun. "Feel like I've been stuck in your dinky house for days." She flexed her arms and legs, her excitement tangible. "Where's that old green pony live? She's first."

"Sweet Apple Acres," Fluttershy replied hesitantly. She frowned, taking a few steps closer to Gilda. "Gilda, I don't think you really-"

"Let's go, Fluttershy," Gilda broke in impatiently. "If Dash sees me before I get this done, I'm screwed. So let's hurry up here." She set off down the road, not even looking back to see if she was going the right way.

"Gilda, I… but…no…" Fluttershy protested, but after a few moments of increasingly upset squeaking, she stopped, sighed, and joined Gilda on the cobbled road. Hooves clattered and talons scraped down the road as they walked; Gilda occasionally asked questions, which Fluttershy answered to the best of her knowledge, but she couldn't shake the dark pit of worry that had settled into her stomach.

Sweet Apple Acres was one of the cornerstones of Ponyville. The property of the Apple clan for generations, it provided the entire town and the surrounding countryside with rich, sweet, juicy fruit, and its many outposts, all populated by Apple clan members and Apple clan apple trees, did the same across the length and breadth of Equestria and lands beyond. On occasions, Sweet Apple apples had even ended up on the royal table in Canterlot. Princess Celestia herself was known to be fond of them.

For such a large orchard, sometimes there wasn't all that much to do in terms of upkeep. This was evidently not one of those times. As Gilda and Fluttershy passed under the weathered wooden arch and its hanging sign that proclaimed 'Sweet Apple Acres', there was a flurry of activity visible in the rows of ancient apple trees standing in the distance – or at least, as much of a flurry as two ponies could produce. Gilda's sharp eyes focused on the young bronze mare with ease; the sun shone off of her sweat-sheened flanks as she bent and twisted to heave a massive broken branch into a nearby cart. The massive red stallion doing the same looked nothing like her, but there was definitely an indescribable family resemblance… and that wasn't mentioning their paired apple cutie marks. Gilda looked around a bit more, but the old green pony was nowhere to be found. She sighed.

"Hey Fluttershy," she said, indicating the siblings with a claw. "You know those two? They related to the old pony?"

"A-Applejack and Big Macintosh are her grandchildren," Fluttershy replied, peeking out from behind her hair. "I don't see Gran-"

"Well, let's ask," Gilda said, setting off for the orchard. Fluttershy sighed and trailed after her, long since having given up on trying to stop the impetuous gryphon.

"Hey," Gilda called, as she neared the cart. The edge of a beaten cowboy hat appeared over the twisted mass of deadwood that had already been collected, followed closely by a sun-gold mane and the head and shoulders of the bronze mare she had seen earlier. She was about the same age as Dash, maybe a little younger, and she looked vaguely familiar. Gilda raised a hand in a lazy wave. "Yeah, hi. You know-"

"Well, howdy there," the mare called, smiling. The expression fit her as comfortably as the old hat did, and she hopped down off the cart's edge, coming around to stand in front of Gilda. "Don't suppose Ah've met you before. Woulda remembered a critter like you," she added with a wink, swiping her red-banded tail across her forehead. "Beg yer pardon. Ah'd shake yer hoof, but Big Mac an' Ah've been workin' all mornin', an' it's gotten a mite sweaty out. Ah'm Applejack," she said, crossing her hooves. "Welcome ta Sweet Apple Acres – oldest apple orchard in Equestria, Ah imagine," she chuckled.

"Hi, Applejack," Fluttershy said quietly, a few paces behind Gilda. "Hello, Mr. Macintosh." She kicked a hoof in the dirt, looking at the big stallion's feet.

Mac nodded courteously to her. "Miss Fluttershy." Applejack leaned to look around the gryphon's broad chest, then brightened as she saw the buttercup-yellow pegasus.

"Hey there, Fluttershy! Haven't see you fer a while," she said, taking a few steps forward to nuzzle her friend before she thought better of it. "Busy out there in the forest, Ah take it?"

"Y-you could say that," Fluttershy said, nodding. She opened her mouth to continue, but Applejack was already off again.

"Well, Ah'm glad you're here," the farm mare said, nodding to herself. "Winona needs her checkup, after all, and Ah just couldn't find the time t'get out ta yer place." She paused to remember if there was anything else that needed veterinary attention, and the big red stallion behind her cleared his throat. Just once, and not loudly, but it was a big sound nonetheless.

"Right," Applejack cried, smacking herself in the forehead with a hoof. "Ah'm so sorry, Ah plumb forgot Ah interrupted ya," she said, turning to Gilda. "What's yer name, an' if you don't mind me askin', what manner of critter are ya?"

"Gilda," Gilda replied, pausing for a moment to see if she'd be interrupted by another flow of hospitality from the earth pony. "I'm a gryphon." She turned to look over her shoulder at the farmhouse. "You guys live with-"

"Gilda? Gilda the Gryphon?" Applejack asked, frowning slightly. She thought for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh!" She took a step back from Gilda, frowning. "Oh yeah, Ah do remember you now! Yer that gryphon friend of Rainbow's, ain'tcha? From the party last year? Way Ah recall it, you burned yer bridges pretty hard last time you were here."

"Yeah, maybe," Gilda replied, a bit of an edge in her voice. "Why is that the only thing everybody remembers?"

"Well, it made a bit of an impression," Applejack replied, her tone a bit cooler than it had been. "An' Ah don't recall you havin' much of a better impression before that, ta be honest." Gilda said nothing, and after a moment Applejack shook her head, visibly making an effort to warm up again. "But Ah'm sorry. Ah guess if you were here ta make trouble, you woulda made it already." She looked back at her brother, who shrugged. "We were just gonna stop fer a bit of lunch, Big Mac an' Ah. Yer both welcome ta join us – in fact, Ah insist." She circled around Fluttershy and gently herded the shy pegasus forward toward the farmhouse.

Big Mac and Gilda trailed along after her, sizing each other up. The farm stallion was about as tall and just as broad as a full-grown buck gryphon; Gilda wasn't used to looking up at ponies, but there was a first time for everything, apparently. They walked along in silence, each keeping an eye on the cajoling, stammering pair of ponies ahead of them. "So… Big Mac," Gilda said, after a minute or two.

Mac looked over at her. The stalk of wheat in his mouth bobbed up and down a bit as he chewed idly on the end. "Eyup."

"Can't imagine why," Gilda said.

"Nope."

And that was the end of that conversation.

In short order, the unusual party reached the farmhouse. It combined the fancy architecture most ponies seemed fond of with the basic design of pretty much every barn Gilda had ever seen, but somehow, the end result looked surprisingly comfortable. Applejack, still herding a softly protesting Fluttershy, led the group in through a side door, which opened into a house addition built into the side of the main barn. Gilda looked around as she stepped into what looked to be the kitchen; it was a long, fairly narrow room, with a pumped sink and a gas stove in one corner, just under an open window looking picturesquely out onto the orchard. An old, solid applewood table standing in the middle of the room looked like it had not just history, but History. The exposed boards of the walls were painted white, and pictures of varicolored ponies, all with various apple-related cutie marks, were hung absolutely everywhere.

"Sorry, we don't actually have any apples right now," Applejack said, using a floor pump to run water from the sink over her head. "They ain't just ripe yet, y'see. But we got plenty of other tasty stuff to feed you with, so don't you worry none." Shaking drops of water from her mane, she set six plates onto the table, then went digging into the unexpectedly modern refrigerator. "Lessee here… oh, we got plenty a'those… Macintosh, you stop lettin' Applebloom sneak pansies from in here, y'hear? Ah know yer in on it." Mac deliberately avoided looking at his sister as Applejack doled out the food – sprouts in a sweet-smelling dressing for the ponies, and more bread for Gilda after a short exchange.

"Hey, Applebloom! Granny Smith! Soup's up!" Applejack called out, sitting down at the table. As she tucked in, a little yellow filly trotted into the room. She had an enormous bow in her hair, and she wore a look of consternation that seemed mature for her young age.

"Sis, Ah'm not hungry," she complained, circling the table to stand between her siblings. "Ah dunno what it is – maybe Ah had too much alfalfa at dinner last night an' that's why Ah'm not feelin' good." She looked across the table and brightened. "Hi, Fluttershy! Ah di'nt know you were comin' fer lunch! Ah wouldn'ta eaten so… many… pa…" She trailed off as she noticed the gryphon sitting next to Fluttershy, and her eyes widened.

"Oh, hello, Applebloom," Fluttershy said, smiling gently at the little girl. "This is my friend Gilda. She's a gryphon." Applebloom didn't say anything; she barely blinked. Fluttershy's smiled faltered a bit. "A-Applebloom…?"

Gilda set her bread down and leaned across the table. "What's the matter, kid? Got something to say?"

"Whoa now," Applejack said warningly, half-standing, but before she could get between her sister and Gilda, Applebloom practically hopped around the table to stand next to the gryphon. Her eyes were shining brightly, and a silly grin had spread across her face.

"You look so awesome," the filly enthused, almost bouncing up and down in her excitement. "Ah've never met a griffin before." She sat down next to Gilda, putting her hooves up on the table near Gilda's plate. "Where're you from? Are there a lot of griffins there? What kinda place is it?" She glanced down at Gilda's legs, then swallowed before continuing. "…Do griffins get cutie marks, too?"

"Uh," Gilda said, taken aback by the verbal flood. She blinked at the filly, who still hadn't blinked yet and who was starting to invade her personal space.

"Applebloom," Applejack said firmly. "Hooves offa the table, first of all. Secondly, Gilda's our guest. Quit badgerin' her with all yer questions, an' come an' eat yer sprouts." She sat back down as Applebloom pouted, not wanting to move. Out of the corner of her eye, Gilda saw Big Mac relax, too – again, not a big motion… but one that left her feeling very glad she hadn't actually intended any harm to the filly.

"Can't Ah just eat over here with Miss Gilda?" Applebloom asked plaintively. She hopped down from the bench and retrieved her plate before her sister could object, and settled in happily next to Gilda, who still wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation.

"Ah guess so," Applejack replied, giving in after a moment. She turned to Fluttershy, who was taking little nibbles of her food. "Sorry fer yankin' you two in here, Fluttershy," she said. "Y'didn't really catch us at our best time – that storm a coupla days ago took down a buncha branches all over the place, an' Mac an' I have been workin' our flanks off gettin' 'em taken care of since then. Two whole days o' work, an' it's shapin' up ta be another full day again today." She sighed, letting her chin rest on the table for a moment. "Ah ain't been so sore since… well, prob'ly since Applebuck Season last year…" She blushed, embarrassed at the memory.

"That's when we kick all the apples offa the trees," Applebloom explained, smiling up at Gilda. "Ah can't do it yet, but Sis an' Big Mac can clear a whole tree with one kick!" She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Mac hasta use one leg, though. Ah think last time he tried it with two legs, he kicked the whole tree clean in half…"

"Eyup," Mac replied, somewhat shortly. He took a bite of salad, obviously not enjoying the turn the conversation had taken. "Well, you'll be able ta help out this year, Ah think," he said, after a minute. "Yer gettin' big enough."

Applebloom cheered. "Didja hear that, Fluttershy? Ah get ta help next year!"

Fluttershy smiled at the filly. "That's very good, Applebloom. I'm happy for you."

Applejack nodded. "Help, Applebloom," she said, emphasizing the verb. "Ah might set ya one or two trees ta buck, fer practice. Yer still too little ta go up a row."

"Aw," Applebloom said, dejected. She finally started nibbling at her food, looking rather sullen.

"If you don't like being weak, then get stronger," Gilda said offhandedly. "Never give up and never back down, and never stop making yourself better than you are. There's a gryphon culture lesson for you, kid." She glanced at Applejack, who was frowning at her. "What?"

"Oh, nothin', really," the farm mare replied, shaking her head. "Jus' sounded a bit like somethin' my daddy used ta say to me, that's all. Dontcha think, Mac?" The big, quiet stallion nodded, and when the older Apple siblings looked back at her, Gilda saw a small bit of respect in their eyes.

Lunch went much more smoothly after that. Applebloom never quite stopped asking questions of Gilda, but Applejack used her experience with her little sister's thought process to keep her focused on her adventures with her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders for the most part. Gilda found herself warming up to the siblings, which was a strange, but not altogether unwelcome, feeling. It felt like the night with Fluttershy had felt – just sitting around and talking, not even about anything that had a point. Just enjoying being around people… it had been a long, long time since she'd done that.

"-an' you shoulda seen the look on his face when he put the durn thing on! It was just, oh, Ah can't even say," Applejack said, laughing. Mac had turned redder than Gilda would have thought possible under his hair; he buried his face in his sprouts, very noticeably not looking at Fluttershy. Applejack recovered, then looked around, suddenly remembering something. "Speakin' of who, how come Granny Smith ain't here yet? Applebloom, was she sleepin' when Ah called fer lunch?"

"Yup," Applebloom replied, looking up. She had finished a while ago and was now inspecting Gilda's tail; the gryphon was amusing herself playing keep-away with the filly. "Ah woke her up an' told her, but she jus' went right back ta sleep. Should Ah go – oh, hiya, Granny! You got good timing!" She and waved at her grandmother as the elderly pony finally tottered into the kitchen.

Granny Smith squinted at Applebloom. "Mm, 'morning, hmbloom," she replied, taking a few shaky steps into the room. Gilda looked over her shoulder at the old pony, and her tail twitched in excitement.

The Apple clan had dined at the royal table as honored warriors before even the spectre of the Nightmare Eclipse had appeared on the horizon; they had stood against Discord in the Chaos Times, eons before the start of recorded history. Though it had been over a thousand years since the last time a clan matriarch had stormed into battle, Edith Smith had been raised, and had raised her children and grandchildren, on the tales of their heroism. She was getting old, true, but she could recognize a rattlesnake when she saw one – and she knew immediately what she had to do.

"Applebloom!" the old mare yelped. Rushing forward as fast as her old frame could manage, she planted herself between Applebloom and Gilda's tail, squaring off with the imaginary serpent. "Applejack, Macintosh, git yer sister outta here," she hissed. "Ah'll keep its attention." She squinted harder at the offending appendage. "Oh yeah, Ah remember you," she snarled with a nod. "Yer ugly even fer a rattler, mm… this time y'won't get me so easy."

"Yeah, about that," Gilda began, having the grace to look abashed. She turned around, the motion pulling her tail within Granny Smith's very limited range. "Look, old lady, I-" Before she could finish the sentence, the old pony stomped down hard on the tuft at the end of Gilda's tail, eliciting a roar of pain from the gryphon. Gilda leapt forward, knocking over several benches and nearly bowling Fluttershy to the ground, then spun to face her assailant. "You crazy old witch," she bellowed. "That hurt!"

With Gilda's tail hidden behind the rest of her, Granny Smith began to lose focus again. "Hm? Wha's goin' on?" she asked, looking around. "Applebloom?" Big Mac and Applebloom stepped to her side and nuzzled her, and soon the old pony had calmed down.

Applejack joined her siblings over by Granny Smith, then turned a glare on Gilda. "Rattlesnake? She remembers you? You wanna explain what that was all about, Gilda?" she asked, the tone of her voice making it very clear that the gryphon didn't have many other options. "Yer our guest, and Ah was startin' ta think of you as a friend… but it seems you ain't been entirely honest with us. Now." She took a deliberate step toward Gilda. "What's goin' on?"

Gilda, stroking the end of her tail, started to reply hotly, then she looked over at Fluttershy. The little yellow pegasus was rooted to the spot, wings out, and she looked almost in tears. Rubbing her temples with a hand, Gilda sighed, struggling to keep her annoyance under control. "Last time I was here, I played a prank on your grandmother," she said, after a long moment. "Tricked her into thinking my tail was a snake. I didn't think it would work this well. But I-"

"Wh, snake?" Granny Smith asked, perking up at the word. She looked around wildly, searching, and Mac gently led her from the room. Applejack watched her go, concern clear on her face, and Gilda almost flinched when the farm mare turned her glare back at the gryphon. Various emotions waged war under the surface of that glare – distrust, anger, and betrayal among them.

"Ah can't believe you," Applejack said quietly. "Bad enough you did that before, but then you come back an' make it worse? Granny's old!" she said, voice starting to rise in volume. "What if she'd hurt herself? She still might! An' if she does-" Applejack's voice broke, and she swallowed. "If you just came here to do harm ta mah family, then Ah want you gone," she continued quietly. "Get out, an' never come back ta Sweet Apple Acres. Apple clan don't ferget their friends – or their enemies."

"I came here to apologize," Gilda barked, hackles rising. The sincerity in Applejack's voice unsettled her – the bronze mare wasn't making threats, she was simply stating a fact. "Seriously! Ask Fluttershy." She looked over at her friend.

"S-she really is trying…" Fluttershy said quietly, hiding behind her mane.

"Way to sell it, Fluttershy," Gilda muttered. She pulled at her tail again, stroking the still-sensitive tip as she spoke. "Look, I'm serious here. It's not my fault she's got bad eyes, is it?"

"Ah don't believe you," Applejack said again, straightening up out of her ready stance. "Yer a liar and a bully, Gilda, an' nothin' more. You don't understand the difference between sayin' sorry an' bein' sorry, an' you never will."

"Sis!" Applebloom said suddenly, speaking up for the first time since the incident. She took a few steps toward Gilda, then turned back to face Applejack. "Ah think she's tellin' the truth." She looked over her shoulder at Gilda. "Ah know we just met her an' all, but Ah don't think she's a bad person. Can't we give her a chance, Sis? Please?" She turned the full power of her wide eyes onto her sister.

Applejack rallied heroically, but she stood no chance at all. "Fine," she said, pressing her lips into a thin line. She turned back to Gilda. "Ah'll give you one chance ta prove yer sorry fer what you did – all of what you did."

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that?" Gilda snapped, letting her tail go. It lashed back and forth, a visual reflection of her agitation. "Anything I say is obviously a lie, right? So what do you want me to do, write you a damn song?"

"Watch yer mouth around my sister," Applejack warned her. "How's this sound? Ah'm goin' back outside ta clear up more branches. There's another cart in the barn. If yer serious about this, go get it an' come on out. Last through the rest o' the day at mah pace, and Ah'll hear you out. Sound fair?"

"Oh, Applejack, no," Fluttershy cried. She fidgeted in place, stomping her hooves up and down. "Gilda's badly hurt! She can't do anything that strenuous for at least another-" She interrupted herself with a squeak as Gilda let out an annoyed growl and stepped past her.

"Deal," the gryphon said, grabbing Applejack's hoof. The two shook once, a determined, powerful motion, and then Applejack let go and turned away. She headed out for the fields, stopping to right the benches as she went.

Gilda sighed, rolling her shoulders out; she winced as her bandages pulled, but completed the motion. She turned to Applebloom. "Hey, kid, show me where this cart is, will ya?"

"Sure, Miss Gilda," Applebloom said, looking troubled. "Ah don't understand why Sis is doin' this, though… it ain't like her t'be so mean, 'specially when Ah know you din't really mean t'scare Granny Smith." Her head drooped a little. "An' Ah don't want her t'treat you like a bad person, either… 'cause then Ah can't talk with you anymore…" She turned away and started for the door. Gilda blinked twice, then shook her head briskly; she followed after the little filly, with Fluttershy trailing behind.

"Here y'go," Applebloom said, nosing open the barn door. A medium-sized cart was just visible in the light spilling into the hay-dusted darkness; Gilda grinned predatorily as she spied it.

"See you in a few hours, Fluttershy," she said, pushing the doors open all the way and heading into the barn. Fluttershy whimpered in response, and Gilda paused by the cart. "Oh, come on. I'll be fine," the gryphon said, beginning to smirk despite herself at the pegasus's watering eyes and worried expression. She bent under the cart's yoke, spent a few moments making sure the crossbar wouldn't rest on her wings, then stood tall with a quiet grunt. "You just… stay here with the kid and cheer me on, or whatever it is you do." With that, she started forward, turning left out the door to head for the south orchards, where Applejack was getting herself situated.

Fluttershy wasn't quite trembling, but she was visibly agitated; she seemed to be fighting against her wings' extension, to little effect, and she scuffled her hooves in the dirt as Gilda drew away. Several times, she opened her mouth to say something… but then she paused for a moment. "Gilda, wait," she called, taking a step after the gryphon. Gilda didn't turn around, but she did stop walking. Fluttershy drew a deep breath and straightened up, folding her wings with a calm, deliberate motion. After a long moment, she opened her eyes and let her breath out. "Do your best," she said clearly. Gilda gave a sharp nod and started on her way to the orchards again. Fluttershy and Applebloom watched her go, then the little filly turned back to her pegasus friend.

"Ah think there might still be some pansies left in the fridge if ya want some," she offered tentatively. Fluttershy smiled at the girl's transparent attempt to lift her spirits.

"That sounds lovely," she beamed, nuzzling Applebloom, and they headed back into the house.

"So?" Gilda asked, a little tightly, as she came up beside Applejack and set her cart down with a grunt. The orange farm mare had crested the hill with ease; she let Gilda's slightly slower ascent pass without comment, which was somehow more annoying than anything else. "We're picking up little sticks and that's it?" Granted, there were a lot of them scattered around; the apple trees in this part of the orchards were pretty big and sturdy, and some of the branches Gilda could see lying around weren't exactly little sticks either, but it still seemed like a fairly simple task. Not even you can screw this one up. Gilda snorted and reached for the nearest log, a shortish branch about as wide as a pony's leg. As her claws closed around it, though, Applejack stepped firmly down onto it, holding the wood down into the springy soil.

"Why are you really here, Gilda?" she asked plainly, looking up at the gryphon. Her eyes were rich green, and they were absolutely unreadable. "Ah mean really."

"We've been through this," Gilda replied, a little annoyed. She tugged on the branch; Applejack didn't move at all, but Gilda fetched up against a brick wall. "Oh, I see," she continued, giving it another tug to identical results. "You don't –erg – believe me, so you – rgh! – get me out here where your sister can't speak up." She paused for a moment. "What the hell are you made of?"

"Ah don't want you startin' if yer not gonna be truthful about this," Applejack replied levelly, not relinquishing her stance. "Y've given me power over you, an' that's a mighty trustin' thing t'give ta someone who not ten minutes ago was ready t'run you off the farm." She took a breath and looked back to Gilda, her expression hardening. "That's why Ah'm givin' you this chance t'back out. You leave now, and Ah won't fault ya fer bein' honest."

Gilda stared at Applejack for a few moments, then slowly, she tightened her grip on the branch and lifted it, waiting for the iron resistance to kick in. Instead, Applejack watched her for a long, tense moment… and then she stepped backward, surprising the gryphon and causing her to jerk the branch upward. The mare's gaze was steady, and she didn't blink as she indicated Gilda's cart with a flick of her head.

"W-what?" Gilda snapped, frowning. Though the expression couldn't be more different, Applejack's eyes reminded her unpleasantly of Fluttershy – and wasn't that a lovely memory, the little yellow pegasus smashing right through all the walls Gilda had constructed around her heart with a single painfully innocent question. Three days ago, she'd never have put up with it. Three days ago, she'd have pushed the pony aside and gone home. Except three days ago, she hadn't had a home, had she? Three days ago, she'd been clinging to a scraggly mountain pine near Canterlot, navigating toward Ponyville on year-old memories, desperate hopes and the lights she could see through the gloom and the driving rain. Three days ago, she'd had no friends. A lot had changed in three days.

You're not a bad person, Gilda. I'm sure of it. Gilda jerked in surprise. That was new, for instance. "I mean… what?" she replied, more softly. She managed to avoid grinding her beak. This was hard.

Applejack shook her head, stepping back to her cart. "Nothin'," she said shortly. "Let's get t'work, huh? Don't bother with the little ones, we'll rake those later." She ducked under her yoke and pulled her cart away, giving Gilda some space to work. The gryphon watched her go, bemused, then shrugged and turned to pick up another branch.

Ponies. Who the hell knew what they were ever thinking?

Fluttershy looked up as Mac came back into the kitchen; he set the lantern carefully back onto its iron peg by the door, blowing out the wick with a single strong puff. He settled down at the table with a quiet sigh, casting Fluttershy a quick glance over plates still bearing the remnants of dinner. She looked back at him, a slight frown of concern on her face, and he looked down at his hooves. "They're still goin' at it," he said after a few minutes of silence.

"Oh, Gilda," Fluttershy murmured, resting her head on her hooves. She looked over at the other door; Applebloom had been sent to bed nearly an hour ago, protesting through her yawns, and Granny Smith's tremulous snoring was just barely audible from her room by the stairs. "I shouldn't have let her go out there…"

"If y'want my thinkin' on it, Miss Fluttershy…" Mac said quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest and down into the bench; Fluttershy could feel it in her hooves. "Maybe t'weren't right, what mah sis set her t'do. Maybe t'weren't even. Ah won't speak ta that matter." He didn't look up, but Fluttershy felt her eyes start to prickle as she remembered the frightening standoff. She'd never seen Applejack so angry and scared before, and with Gilda shouting back… she sniffed, and Mac looked over.

"Ah don't mean ta upset ya, Miss," he said carefully. "But this is somethin' they've gotta work out for themselves. Neither mah sis nor Gilda is gonna back down now, not after they got each other riled up like that." He shook his head, sighing. "At least the brush is gettin' cleared."

"I'm just worried," Fluttershy said quietly. "Gilda's trying so hard, she really is, but she's got such a long way to go still… and she's so sure that Rainbow Dash will just take her back, but I just don't know… Rainbow Dash is a lovely pony, but she can be so stubborn sometimes… and I'm worried that she won't be forgiven, and if that happens …" she sniffed, tears starting to track down her cheeks. "She'll never open up to anypony ever again, and she'll be left all alone…"

She jerked upright. "Oh! Oh no, I didn't mean to… I mean, I shouldn't have…" She sniffed again, rubbing her face. "I shouldn't have said anything… um, please… please forget what I just said…"

"Didn't hear a thing, Miss," Mac replied, shaking his head. He stood up slowly, stretching out the huge, solid bands of muscle in his legs, and crossed to the counter. Taking the basket of napkins in his teeth, he brought them over to the table and set them within Fluttershy's reach. She shook her head gratefully, taking the opportunity to regain a bit of her composure while Mac picked up the stack of dirty dishes. Taking them over to the sink, he set the plates into a washing rack and began to work the hoof pump.

"Miss Fluttershy," he said, after a moment. "Not havin' heard anything, mind, an' forgive me fer speakin' without knowin' the whole story…" He paused, and the only sounds were the squeaking of the hoof pump and the quiet splashing of water. "T'occurs ta me that Gilda couldn'ta found a better pony fer the job." He cleared his throat. "Yer, ah… yer the kindest an' the gentlest soul Ah know… an' if anypony can help her, it's you."

Fluttershy felt her cheeks heat, and she looked away at the unfamiliar little jump in her chest. "Um, that… that's very kind of you to say, Mr. Macintosh. Th-thank you."

Mac's attention was fixed on the dishes, which were long since washed. "Miss… if'n you'd like… Ah'd be just fine with just 'Mac'."

"Oh, my," Fluttershy squeaked, the burn intensifying. "Th-then… maybe, if you like… you can just call me… Fluttershy…" she kicked a hoof against the floorboards, looking anywhere but at Mac. "That might be… nice…" There was a long moment of silence. "Maybe I should go check on Gilda-"

"Ah should go check on Granny Smith-" Mac began at the same time. Both ponies moved toward the doors, then stopped, embarrassed. "Sorry," Mac said, chuckling. "It's just-"

There was a sudden bright burst of lightning through the window, followed almost immediately by a deafening crash of thunder. Fluttershy screamed and fled under the table; even Mac started. The tearing sound reverberated for full seconds, shaking the barn on its foundations, and the lantern rattled wildly against the doorframe.

"Are y'all right, Mi… Ah mean… Fluttershy?" Mac asked as the noise faded, peeking under the table. "You sure can move fast when y'want to." Fluttershy nodded shakily, slowly coming out from under the sturdy piece of furniture. "Ah didn't think there was s'posedta be a storm today…" he said, frowning out the window. The wind had picked up, and shingles clattered on the roof. The darkness had been gathering slowly in the sweet summer twilight, but now dark clouds blotted out even the last remnants of the sunset.

"Well, that tears it," Mac said, with a quiet note of something very near relief in his voice. "Not even Applejack can argue fer brushin' in this." He crossed the kitchen in a few steps, stopping by the door. "Ah'll go round 'em up." He leaned forward and nosed the lantern's switch; light bathed the room as the clever little mechanism inside the device lit the wick, and he took the ring in his teeth.

"Um… if you're okay with it, I mean… I'd like to come with you," Fluttershy said quietly, joining him by the door.

"Y'sure? Don't feel right askin' ya t'come out in the dark an' the rain," Mac said doubtfully. Fluttershy nodded once, slowly, then again, with more force.

"No, I want to come," she said, stepping into the mudroom. In the far wall, the outside door rattled and shook with the wind; she shrank back at a particularly loud clatter, and Mac stepped forward to put a hoof against the door.

"Lantern ain't got that much lightin' power, so be sure t'stick close by me," Mac warned. "Ah'll keep you grounded if y'start blowin' away, too." He pushed, and the door swung out into the sweeping darkness.

"I know," Fluttershy said quietly, blushing again. Taking a deep breath, she looked to Mac and nodded, and they stepped through the door together.

As Macintosh and Fluttershy left the house, another huge bolt of lightning tore through the air, bringing with it the first heavy curtains of rain. Out in the fields, Applejack and Gilda braced themselves against the wind. They had reached the end of the row together by chance, and the carts, mostly full, shook as the wind caught at the leafy branches.

"You've got to be kidding me," Gilda spat, glaring up at the clouds. "Another storm?" She groaned, rearing up to toss a branch into her cart. "Your weather team sucks…" Part of her was glad for the rain; her back was starting to protest, and she could see, even from ground level, that the incoming storm would be a doozy. She stomped savagely on the relief she felt, and grabbed another branch just to spite it. She threw up her wing to try to keep the rain off; it didn't help much.

"Ah guess that's it – we can't brush in this," Applejack said. She turned to Gilda, giving her a tired smile. "Yer done. Congratulations," she said, stretching mightily and cracking her neck. "Why don't ya head on in? Ah'll finish up here an' come right after ya." She turned back and headed for her cart yoke, then stepped back as Gilda grabbed a branch near her feet. "Uh, d'you hear me right?"

"Yeah," Gilda said shortly. "Nice try. I didn't forget the terms – I'm going back when you do, and not a second before." There were a few seconds of silence, and Gilda fidgeted under Applejack's unreadable expression. "I'm no welcher. I finish what I start," she said, frowning. For better or for worse, the voice reminded her nastily.

Applejack paused for a moment, surprised, then she started to chuckle. Gilda's hackles rose immediately, but she clamped down on the reaction. "Ah guess Ah figured you right," the farm mare said, nodding. Droplets of water flew from the brim of her hat, and she gave a tired, but satisfied, sigh as the laughter worked its way out of her system. "Ah gotta apologize, Gilda," she said after a moment. "Truth is… Ah knew you were tellin' the truth when we started. Ah wouldn'ta let you pick up that branch otherwise." She scratched behind her ear with a hoof. "The challenge was a dumb idea, but Ah know what pride is like. Y'woulda agreed to anythin' I asked ya t'do in front o' that many folks, wouldn't ya? So I wanted t'ask you again by yer lonesome, t'see how you really felt about it."

Gilda stared at her in disbelief. "Wait," she said, having a hard time processing it. "Wait, wait, wait. You figured I was telling the truth and you still made me spend seven hours picking up sticks?"

Applejack took a breath, and Gilda was surprised to see her look to the side, somewhat embarrassed. "Ah've been thinkin', an' maybe that wasn't right o'me. I believe now that y'really didn't mean any harm, this time around at least, an' this is all just a misunderstandin'." She looked back at Gilda, and the gryphon was astounded to see a sly smile on her face. "But y'wouldn't'a backed out anyway, would ya?"

Gilda stared at her, then looked back at the nearly full cart at her side. It was satisfyingly weighted, just the right amount to force her to use her strength but not heavy enough to tire her quickly. Her muscles felt warm and loose; she swiveled her shoulders experimentally, not missing the tightness that had plagued them the past few days cooped up in Fluttershy's tiny little house. Looking back at where they'd been, there was noticeable progress (current storm notwithstanding). It wasn't flying, but it was doing something. She'd missed that.

"No, I wouldn't have," Gilda grudgingly replied. Applejack chuckled again, and despite herself, after a moment Gilda did too. "That's still a bitch move, though," she said lightly, stepping under her yoke as Applejack did the same.

"Like Ah said, I feel a bit bad about it," Applejack admitted, starting back toward the farmhouse with a grunt. "But hey, Mac'll thank ya fer doin' most of his share of the work fer today. An' Ah'll thank ya, too. Y'did us a good amount of help."

"Yeah, whatever," Gilda replied long-sufferingly. "Don't get too used to it, huh?"

"Ah won't," Applejack laughed. She perked up as she reached the top of a small hill, looking off into the distance toward the farmhouse. "Oh, wouldja look at that. We got guests."

"Gilda!" Gilda followed Applejack's gaze as Fluttershy's voice cut through the rain. The little yellow pegasus came into view over the hill, somehow looking even smaller with her mane and tail already soaked through; she had her slightly bedraggled wings pressed against her body for warmth. Macintosh was with her, a lantern clasped in his teeth, looking none the worse for wear. "Applejack! Oh, we've just been looking all over for you," she called. Now that she had spotted the gryphon and earth pony, her voice was returning to its normal volume, and Gilda had to strain to hear her.

"Why are you even out here?" Gilda called, setting the cart back down. Another bolt of lightning split the sky as the newcomers reached the foot of the hill; Gilda swore in surprise, and Fluttershy locked up and fell over. By the time the thunder had faded from the hills, Mac had helped her back to her hooves. The slightly muddy pegasus blushed furiously as Macintosh lent her his side for support, and Gilda rolled her eyes.

"Thought we'd come an' check on ya," Mac said, looking up at his sister. "Though Ah take it y'got things worked out on yer own?" Fluttershy didn't miss the glance that passed between the siblings.

"Yeah, everythin's all set here," Applejack replied, smiling. She turned to look at Gilda. "We'll put the two of ya up fer the night," she said. "Ain't gonna make you walk home in…" She broke off, frowning. "Hey…"

The sky tore open in a fit of rage, hammering the farm with pure sound as bolt after bolt struck at the orchards. Scenes flashed in front of Gilda's eyes like photographs, highlighted by the white brilliance of lightning:

Applejack's wide eyes. The cart, slightly unbalanced, catching the incline and gaining speed. The slope of the hill. Fluttershy at the bottom…

There was a meaty thud.

Forgive me for the cliffhanger, eh? You can thank Determamfidd and his wonderful It Takes A Village for the inclusion of FlutterMac - it's always been a favorite pairing of mine, but his portrayal of the relationship inspired me. So, consider that yet another tribute to a fic that's shaped my fanon extensively!

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Don't like something? Let me know why!