The cart bounced lightly on the old dirt road.
It bore no apples today, nor great casks of finest brandy or bubbling ales and ciders. Its only cargo was a slightly frail pegasus, yellow like a child’s drawing of the sun, faded pink mane covering over her face and hiding her eyes and the little crate by her side.
As always, it was Macintosh who pulled the cart. He had been pulling it for years, and would pull it for years yet, until it broke beyond repair and was rebuilt. But few trips had been quite like this one.
Fluttershy hummed, mostly to fill the silence. It wasn’t that she disliked silence in of itself. Or, she hadn’t, but she was beginning to wonder if that would change. So many other things were.
Her impromptu song died away and she was quiet again. There was only the rolling wheels and her own thoughts.
A lot was changing, wasn’t it? Everything, in fact. A new home, a new routine. A new bed and a new table, a new set of sounds in the morning. Would the birds sing on the Acres? Surely they must. Would the crow of the rooster wake her before dawn, startling her to a dark awakening?
Half of the time, she was terrified. The other half, she was almost curious. What would it be like, when all of this was over? That was a loaded question. It would be awful, objectively awful, but it wasn’t as if she would be alone in her affliction. Perhaps the origins of her condition were a bit irregular, but…
Ponies lived fulfilling lives under all sorts of afflictions, didn’t they? She was sure they must. It was hard to imagine that she lived in a world where they could not. But still she feared what no longer being whole and sound of body would mean. Not only for herself but for others.
A plaintive mew emanated from the rate as the cart jumbled again.
Fluttershy reached out for the crate and found it, not looking away from Macintosh and his loud, confidant pace.
“There, there. It’s alright, Rascal,” she said. “You’ll see momma soon! She’s back from her trip.”
Rascal continued to mew. She didn’t blame him, honestly. She would be stressed too, were she his size. It was a bit scary to be helpless and unable to see where you were going, and unable to change it. She cooed softly at him.
Being able to talk to animals had been the beginning. It was a rare trait, often misunderstood. True communication was something of legend, but empathy and communication-by-suggestion were typical earth pony talents. The ponies in town hadn’t believed her, at first, but she’d shown them how the beasts of the air and field trusted her soft voice.
She supposed they would still trust her. She wasn’t losing her voice, after all. So her talent, her life's mission, was more or less intact. If she tried not to think about it, thinking so was easy.
They rode into town. All around her, the streets of Ponyville bustled, and then they did not. As they passed, ponies quieted. She felt them watching her, and she cowered, her hair shrouding her, tickling her nose. But then she shook her head. No, that was what old Fluttershy did. Old Fluttershy was afraid. New Fluttershy had to be brave. Or at least, she couldn’t cower. Cowering was out. So, with a deft motion, she brushed her mane out of her eyes and put on a little smile, as if she were merely enjoying the day.
Macintosh brought her by Carrot’s house in town first. She waited while he unhitched himself and came around the side to help her ease down. She fluttered her wings, hovering slightly until her hooves gently landed on the springy grass beside the dirt road.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, and leaned forward for him. They kissed softly, chastely, and then Fluttershy retrieved the cat crate while Macintosh knocked on the door.
“Coming! Give me a moment!”
Fluttershy waited before her door, the cat crate’s handle in her mouth’s grip. She could feel little tremors as the cat moved about in his cage, unhappy with his predicament.
The door opened with a creak.
“Oh! Fluttershy, and Rascal. Oh I hope he… wasn’t a bother,” her voice hitched as Fluttershy placed the crate by her hooves.
Fluttershy smiled at her. She knew why Carrot Top had paused. She knew very well why, but nothing would deter her from smiling and acting as if she did not for as long as possible. “Oh, he was just wonderful. Now, I finished most of his medication, but you’ll need to give him the last two days. Twice a day, half of the syringe. I’ve been giving it to him before lunch and dinner each day.”
“Y-yes. Yes, okay. I… I hope he wasn’t… I mean,” she tried to form some sort of response.
Macintosh would say something if she went on to long. Fluttershy didn’t want that. She kept smiling. “It’s alright, Carrot. He was an angel, really. It’s okay, I know it looks a little weird.”
Carrot Top was silent for a beat too long. “I… I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay.”
“Is there… Does it…”
“She’s fine,” Macintosh said.
Fluttershy reached out and touched him on the foreleg. “It’s fine,” she parroted. “It really is. Don’t worry about me. I would stay a bit longer, but I have to go see Twilight. Remember to give Rascal his medicine, alright?”
Macintosh came closer and helped her back towards the cart. As she steadied herself and lifted up with her wings, she heard Carrot Top behind her say a quick goodbye, which she returned warmly while making herself comfortable again. Macintosh bid her good day, and they continued on.
Neither of them said anything until they stopped again.
“Please don’t be upset with them,” she murmured as he held out a hoof for her to find and use as leverage. Her wings flapped, she touched to earth again. It was such a nice feeling, landing.
“I’m tryin’.”
“I know you are, love. They don’t mean anything by it. They’re upset too. We have an awful lot of friends, you know.”
“I know.”
The castle had been hard to navigate even before her illness. It had so many hallways, and she hadn’t learned how to get much of anywhere besides the throne room and the main hall. She guessed it would be even harder to learn the twisting corridors now, but she didn’t mind. Twilight could help her. Or Spike. Or maybe even Starlight. It would be an excuse to chat, and that was always good.
“I wonder how Twilight is doing?” she asked the air.
Macintosh didn’t answer. Sometimes he didn’t, and that was alright. Her Macintosh was a quiet pony, but his mind was always working, and she loved that about him. Some ponies liked to announce their presence or make an impression, and that was okay, but he never needed to. Mac simply was, and being was often enough.
They walked together, closely, and Fluttershy listened to the echoes of the their twinned steps. She had much preferred the library, but she would never say so to Twilight. Mostly because Twilight would agree with her, and there wasn’t much they could do, was there? Some things just changed.
Twilight was waiting for them in the throne room. She fussed and fussed over Fluttershy, which wasn’t so bad, and talked a lot. Honestly, she didn't really understand a word of it, but she nodded right along with Macintosh, automatically and in all the right places.
Finally, after a plethora of very, very gentle and careful hugs and lots of talk, Twilight seemed to settle into a deep weariness. She sighed.
“Well, I guess… come on with me, you two. We’ll lay you out on that guest bed again. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
Mac helped her there while Twilight led the way, asking questions. Her steps were uneven, as if she were struggling to hide her own failing consciousness.
“How have you been feeling? Any other symptoms?”
She shook her head. “No. Just the usual. I’ve been a little lethargic… but I think that’s from moving around less. Moving is a little difficult. I’m sorry. I know I should try more, probably, but…”
“No, no that’s fine. It’s probably some of the residue still working through your system as well. We’ll purge it all. I’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you, Twilight. I’m so very grateful. How have you been?”
There was a pause.
“Me? Well, that’s an odd question.”
“It’s a good one,” Fluttershy insisted.
“Maybe. I’ve not been sleeping well,” Twilight said. “Probably need to cut back on caffeine again. I blame the new alicorn body.”
Which was an absolute lie and Shy knew it but she didn’t say so because sometimes it was better not to state the obvious.
“You should get more sleep,” she said gently.
“I’ll be alright.”
“Of course. What about the others? I suppose I’ll see Rarity tomorrow at the spa, but I haven’t seen Pinkie yet this week.”
“Pinkie. Pinkie’s…” Twilight hummed. “I forgot what she was up to, but she packed her bags for the rock farm on Friday. I really should write her and see how that’s going. Oh! That’s it. Some cousin or other was having a baby.” She chuckled, and the sound was music in Fluttershy’s straining ears. Twilight had a lovely laugh. “Maybe I should offer an official royal blessing? It’s archaic, but they might appreciate it.”
“Oh, I wonder what the new foal’s name will be!”
“Probably something-pie,” Twilight grumbled. “Ponies are kind of uncreative, actually. That occurred to me the other day.”
“Oh, but what about Rarity?”
“Rarity’s an exception,” Twilight said. “Also, I really meant naming conventions. You know, in their own language, Zebra names… oh, here we are. Let me open the door. You, um, know the way to the bed.”
Fluttershy carefully, gently crossed the floor with minimal help. She put her hoof on Mac’s chest when he moved to aid her, shaking her head as she walked alone for the first time since she’d left the farm that day.
She bumped into the bed and managed to not fall over just long enough to make it look intentional when she fell onto the soft plush. Another sigh, this one a bit happier. Even Twilight’s guest beds were magnificent! It really was a palace.
“Could you lay on your side for me, Fluttershy?” Twilight asked, moving closer. “Look at me, as well.”
“Okay.”
She obeyed and waited.
Twilight’s magic touched her first in her hooves and tingled. She tried not to squirm as the feeling continued up her legs. She imagined she could feel Mac’s warmth from the bedside, though she couldn’t know for sure he was there. He was standing still, after all.
The magic touched her chest and stomach, ran over her withers and everywhere else, leaving her feeling a little embarrassed. Twilight never made her feel uncomfortable, though. It was always just routine when she made her visits.
“It’s certainly improved,” she heard Twilight murmur as she worked. The magic touched her face and her eyes, and she heard Twilight let out a shaky breath. “Except for that, of course.”
Her examination ended and Twilight was quiet.
“Well, um, doctor… what’s my prognosis?” Fluttershy asked.
She hoped Twilight smiled. “Well, the obvious elephant in the room is still both an elephant and in the room. They’re still deteriorating, Shy. But the rest of your body is doing much better.”
“Oh, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes.” Twilight coughed. “Yes, it’s good.”
Fluttershy smiled. “Thank you, Twilight.”
“You shouldn’t thank me.”
“Whyever not? You’ve done so much good for--”
“For Celestia’s sake, please don’t,” Twilight said hoarsely.
Fluttershy shrank back. “Twilight, I told you that it wasn’t your fault…”
Twilight sniffed. “Whose else could it be?”
“No one’s.” Fluttershy tried to rise and find Twilight.
Her sight was so dark now. Everything was strange and half-formed, like shadows, and yet still she recognized Twilight hunched over beside the bed. She wrapped around her and held on like a mare clinging to a sinking ship. She cooed and shushed, saying nothing more as Twilight began to cry.