Chapter Fifteen - Part One: Flutterfall
Through The Eyes Of Another Pony
Chapter Fifteen Part One: Flutterfall
By CardsLafter
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Three Days After Flutterfall
I’ll have you know, I’m not an overly giving woman. I look after myself well enough and take care of those that matter to me, few as they are. I try to keep my head low and my spirits high because when you’re in my line of work… Or rather, the line of work I was in… you come to find that staying alive is difficult if you can’t manage those two things. That makes for a very simple, albeit sometimes exciting life.
I am… was a mercenary. Yes, a soldier of fortune; one of the few women that managed to make it stick and didn’t lose myself in the process, mentally or otherwise. I’ve been doing this since I was taken in at thirteen years old and have continued to do so for the sixteen years that followed. It’s easy. Was easy. I’ve seen a lot in that time though. Enough to believe that I’d seen just about everything that was relevant.
That, my friends, was so far from the truth. The truth was that I had seen nothing. Not a thing. Not even a glimpse of the big picture. And I assure you, the picture is big. Bigger than big. Bigger than comparing the smallest grain of sand to the largest red giant star.
And that’s pretty big, I’ll have you know.
Now, you might ask, “Shara, what made you look at the big picture?”
Well, it isn’t easy to explain. And I’m not going to bother trying to prepare you for this. Because for this, there is no preparation. The whole story is that a little yellow horse, whose head did not come past the middle of my thigh, changed everything.
Now do not make any assumptions, please. This was no ordinary tiny yellow horse. This tiny yellow horse came with wings, a tattoo on her flank, and a heartwarming smile. Yes, a smile. That was also something different about her. Its face was more human than anything else, complete with human-shaped eyes colored like the clear blue sky and a rounded muzzle that has more expressive capability than any human I’d ever met. Wait, it gets better, I assure you. It speaks. Well, it speaks English at least. I can’t say I care for its nationality in the slightest, but there you have it. Oh right, she’s also quite… ‘magical.’
Yes, ‘she’. Her name is Fluttershy. We bumped into each other during some recreational hunting I was doing in Northeastern Russia. Yes, I like to hunt animals. It’s a change of pace from hunting people, not to mention far easier and more practical. Anyway, I was just looking for a bearskin to replace the one I had just tossed in along with an unscrupulous bargain when… Perhaps it will just be easier if I start from the beginning, yes?
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It was a cold morning sometime in the birth of spring. I don’t keep track of months or days, I find that practice to be silly in my line of work. Unfortunately, my old boss leaves me a message on my answering machine every year to remind me that I’m aging. I find that to be a killing offense, personally. He is, however, quite hard to locate. As I was saying though: The morning. It was cold. I was hunting around for the Eurasian Brown Bear for a number of reasons. Food, fur, fun, and just for something to do. It was a slow season for work, which was fine by me. I was not a cheap gun, thus a break in business did not bother my pocketbook in the slightest.
The young season was doing its best to try to stamp out the worst of winter’s frozen bite. As it stood, it had only halfway finished the job. That was fine. Tracking in mud is almost easier than tracking in snow. Scents would be harder to navigate by, but the advantages significantly outweighed the hindrances. Actually, to be quite honest the worst of it is trying to stay silent. It’s easy to get into a walking pattern in all mud or all snow, but the mixture of the two can be quite frustrating.
It took me quite a while to find a trail. A storm sweeping in from the North had me wondering if I should just give up only a few moments before I got lucky. Luck in the form of bear crap. Lovely. However, I could tell just by looking at it that it was not at all old. Not even a meter away was an especially large paw print in the muddy snow. The trail, while literally cold, was not figuratively so. I think he was no more than a mile ahead of me. I didn’t even need to get that close, in all reality. I just needed to spot him from any distance and I should have been able to take him down with a single shot.
Well… That was the plan anyway. Normally, it’s a safe bet to follow these trails of scent, musk, and footprints because most sane animals want nothing to do with a bear. In fact, most of the native bears shy away from one another’s scent. Not all of them, though. No, the largest and most aggressive, on the other hand, actively follow such trails to establish dominance and territory. These are the ones that do not fall under the category of sane. Luckily, those are quite rare. But despite all odds against it, it just so happened there was indeed such a beast following the same trail.
One would think a creature of such mass would make noise in its approach. That is not the case. What is the case is that the Eurasian Brown Bear tends to be quite silent while lumbering about. In fact, it was so silent, that it was merely a handful of steps away from me when we finally became aware of each other’s presence. This may be a tad redundant, but that was incredibly awkward and we both seemed to agree on that, taking barely half a second to register one another.
After the initial shock had passed, the bear reared back on its hind-legs and towered over me as it inhaled to bellow ferociously. I feel no shame when I say I felt a pall of dread fall over me. You must keep in mind, this particular breed of bear can be half again to twice the size of a Grizzly Bear. And if you’ve ever seen a Grizzly Bear, you know just how big that is. Take into account that I am barely 160cm tall, which is less than five and a half feet for all you backwater Imperial system users. The roar it let out was unsettling, even for someone as disciplined as myself. The bear hit the ground on all fours, using its momentum from the drop to throw itself forward at speeds that did not seem quite possible from something so large and heavy. Even as I pulled my hunting rifle about, I knew I was hoping against hope for a lucky shot. I was not set, the target was moving rapidly with its head bouncing up and down, and to make matters worse, the sun was directly behind the ridge at its back.
One shot later, I felt my heart sink. I didn’t even hit it at nearly point blank range. That is incredibly embarrassing, I think you should know. If any of my colleagues had seen it, they would have been laughing until their guts hurt. That wasn’t a huge concern at the time though, seeing as how I would not get a second round in the chamber before the beast was upon me. Still, I tried. Hope against hope and all that.
As expected, I did not get a second chance. Instead, I got a paw the size of my entire torso right in my shoulder, sending me sprawling like a paperweight. I’d used the gun to absorb most of the impact, destroying it in the process. I was only delaying the inevitable but I’m somewhat known for never giving up. Still, even the smallest part of me was saying I was pretty much done for. I was slower, weaker, and thanks to the state of my improvised shield, weaponless beyond a small skinning knife. Upon landing some dozen feet away, I blinked my vision clear and tried to scramble to my feet in an attempt to escape. I tripped halfway up, landing on the shoulder that had been hit and cried out in pain. A small part of myself found this incredibly stupid and a little funny. To die like this had to be the most incredibly anticlimactic way to leave this world. After everything and its mother, brother, and child had failed in their many attempts to kill me, I was going to get eaten by a bear. Well, technically bears don’t actually eat people, but I think we know where this is going regardless. Shara Vladimirovna Dostoevskaya (No relation to the stupid author, so do not ask.) had met her match at the claws of Mother Nature.
Until the unimaginable happened. Not the unexpected. A second hunter saving my life would have been unexpected but not unimaginable. No, this was beyond comprehension. A small yellow horse, nearly a fifteenth the behemoth’s size, jumped in between it and me. I assumed I was seeing things or was possibly already dead. It wasn’t until the bear skidded to a sudden halt, staring dumbfounded at my protector did I realize that the little winged equine before me was quite possibly real.
Then it spoke and forced me to reconsider the possibility of hallucinations and/or insanity.
“G-Go away, please,” it stammered in English as it shivered fearfully, its voice ridiculously timid.
It was at that moment I discovered my sanity had just become suddenly questionable, but I was not so awestruck that my survival instincts refused to kick in. So when they did, I continued to scramble to my feet and took off running as fast as I could. It was seven miles back to my house and I did not stop for a single second. I always feel naked without a weapon but don’t get me wrong, just because I was running like my life depended on it did not mean I was scared. This may come as a shock, but I find myself running for that very reason quite often. You must understand I am very much a Point A to Point B woman. I nearly just died to a bear, therefore I should arm myself to prevent such an event from happening a second time. Scared or not, I was still trying to figure out what had just happened.
What the hell is happening, I asked myself. This can’t… Am I dreaming?
I made it to the door only mildly winded, yet still confused as hell and without a security blanket (See also: gun) to keep me safe. I disabled the security system and unlocked the two locks as quickly as I could without being frantic. I admit to allowing only the tiniest of whimpers to escape as I flung open the door and slammed it shut behind me. Stupid close brush with death. It’s not like I haven’t been in danger before. I’ve almost died so many times that me and Old Man Eternity were on a first-name-basis.
My arrogance. My stupid, reckless arrogance. That’s what bothered me. That little yellow wing-horse was the only thing that stole me from my fate. A fate that could have been avoided had I been less stupid. Taking a bolt-action rifle into the cold wild without so much as a sidearm was as reckless as it got. In all honesty, I feel I deserved what I almost got. I’d been saved by luck a few times but…
“That was so bizarre,” I breathed aloud to no one in particular.
After slowly peeling away my hunter’s coat, I hung it on the rack I keep by the door before groaning at the jingle of the keys within its pocket. I had just left my ATV back in the wilderness. And that storm was much too close to bother running back out there. At best I’d have to take a towel with me to go fetch it tomorrow. At worst I would be chipping the ice off of it for hours. All depended on the incoming storm. Ah well, considering what had happened, I could handle a long walk and a shitty ride back. Seemed more than a fair trade for not dying. Optimism!
The hours dragged on agonizingly slowly. That’s quite unusual for me, since I’m generally good at keeping myself occupied and entertained. Such was not the case that day, though. My mind kept trying to grasp what had happened and only served to frustrate me with failure. It seemed so surreal that my mind just didn’t want to accept that a tiny horse just saved my life by flying up and telling a bear to get lost. I was having trouble just picturing the moment, much less the details. Her hair… mane? Whatever it was, it was incredibly long and a darling pastel-pink. I left her to that bear but she had wings, right? She’d be alright. Was it even a she? Her voice surely suggested so.
Whatever the case, it had been over an hour since I had last seen… it, I suppose… and the edge of the storm had just made its way in. That’s when I began to feel a little worried for the hypothetically imagined creature. Did it have shelter from the storm? I moved back to the door and tentatively reached at its locks.
Perhaps I should go…
And then good sense came back to me. Killing myself by going out in what was likely to be a howling blizzard wasn’t going to serve anyone, much less some dumb wing-horse that I probably imagined in the first place.
I pulled my hand from the door and moved back to the… Well, I call it the central area. There are no walls in my house except for the washroom, which is just an area sliced off the North wall. Other than that? Nothing but one large room with four corners that each serves their own purpose. Northwest is a simple kitchen with island and pantry with as much decoration as a barracks (which is to say absolutely none). Northeast and Southeast are both for sleeping since I occasionally have to entertain the occasional business partner that I have absolutely no interest in beyond their ability to pull triggers or gather information. On the East wall, just between the beds, lays an extremely large and cozy couch that sits in front of an extremely large and cozy fireplace. Southwest, being my fun corner, is where I keep my toys, computer, and workbench. The computer doubles as a TV and my security system silently warns me of anything that sets foot within half a mile of the building. If you care, the walls are all painted taupe and the furniture is all black or dark grey.
And that’s my home. There is one set of stairs that leads to a tiny basement where I keep a lot of supplies, as well as a few handy things such as a backup generator. The same set of stairs also ascends to the roof in case I feel like stargazing, which is more often than you might think.
No decoration, no pictures, and cleaner than a chemical lab. Cleanliness is next to godliness, as the Americans will tell you. Unless they’re atheists. Are American atheists messy, then? I know Russian atheists aren’t, being one myself. Hmm.
Anyway, I set about preparing for a cold afternoon that would probably extend into the evening. I threw a bit of tinder in the fireplace before covering it with larger logs. I knew I’d have a tiny personal inferno within the hour to keep me happy, so I decided to clean up while it built. I slipped into the bathroom and checked myself for any surprise wounds. My skin isn’t dark, but it isn’t exactly entirely light either. A fair amount of musculature makes me a tad bit heavier than the average girl my size, but I’m still reasonably slender. My long black hair was pulled out of its braid and just barely fell to my shoulders. My green eyes were a little bloodshot, no doubt from the anxiety that was troubling me deep down. I’m not easily shaken, but when it happens, I don’t easily shake it off either.
Was that thing an alien?
“Easy, girl,” I chuckled aloud, somewhat amused that I would jump to such a conclusion. I’m a little too cynical for that sort of thinking.
I pulled off the grey shirt that I had been wearing under my turtleneck and glared at my shoulder. It wasn’t pretty. The gun had taken the worst of the blow (at least I had not taken a more expensive weapon. I’d have probably let the bear kill me before I risked my Browning.) but it had been shoved hard against my right shoulder and solar plexus. I moved my arm through its full range of motion and breathed a sigh of relief as I discovered that nothing was broken or hurt overmuch. I did wince upon touching the offending area, but beyond that, it was just a nasty bruise that would fade in a week or two.
I’d been lucky.
I remembered my little savior and shook my head a bit, as if to toss the memory out. That was unnatural, whatever had happened. It just felt wrong for someone like me to be unprepared. Dogs-and-cats-living-together wrong. It didn’t even seem to look real. Like it was…
The sudden crash of thunder shook me from my space-out. I needed to bathe and get out as quickly as possible. I have this slight fear of getting struck by lightning in the shower. I don’t know if that can really happen, actually. I just never remember to check until I’m already in the shower and the storm is overhead.
I rushed my task, but still took the time to do a good job until a second sound shook me some two minutes later. It sounded like something was rustling about on my roof. I don’t like things rustling about on my roof. Nobody has any business rustling about on my roof unless they have business with me. Only two kinds of people have business with me. Those that want to hire me, and those that have been already been hired by someone that knows me. Those that want to hire me know that you call first and I’ll go to meet you. Anyone hired by someone that knows me usually aren’t making social calls. Everyone’s all like, “Oh, Shara… You’ve ruined my drug trafficking! Oh, Shara… Why must you shoot my especially violent zealots!” when the answer is always the same. I got paid to do it. Personally, I think people just have a hard time understanding that business is business.
I’m getting off track… The point is, my home is off limits and everybody that could possibly be interested in finding me already knows that. Thus, anyone at my place of rest is not supposed to be there and anyone rustling about on my roof has signed themselves a death warrant.
I flung myself out of the shower, snatching the robe off the rack as I darted to my toy corner. I grabbed a Springfield Armory 1911 (aka Hand Cannon) and checked both the mag and chamber before moving to my stairs. I was dripping wet and the fire had not spread enough warmth to keep me comfortable on this side of my bunker-like home, but I’d had worse conditions in my time. This was nothing compared to a Siberian winter. I leveled my weapon of choice at the hatch, estimating the chest level of anyone that might be approaching it before waiting. Any intruder not smart enough to wear armor was going to get unreasonably large holes put into them and any smart enough to wear armor was still going to get the equivalent of a small sledgehammer impact to the center of their rib cage. Either of these outcomes were fine with me!
I heard a bit more rustling. It was coming from the Eastern side but was nowhere near the hatch yet. I didn’t want to wait. Waiting was not always the best choice, at least not for extended periods of time. Waiting will give a smart opponent time to prepare by way of explosives or alternate entry routes. Most people that are as impatient as me don’t live long doing this sort of thing. I, however, am not most people.
I flicked on the flashlight clipped to my weapon and sprinted up the stairs as quietly as possible. They wouldn’t be able to hear the unclipping of the latch thanks to the roaring torrent of snow and wind, so I was fairly certain I had the element of surprise. One to get ready, two for the show, three to stay steady…
And I flung open the latch, leveling the gun towards the Eastern side of the house. I heard a meek female voice cry out as I swung the flashlight towards the chimney, spotting something scramble behind it. It wasn’t a very large chimney, but a small enough person could use it for cover. I couldn’t see very well through the snow that was violently whipping past us, but I knew there was something over there.
“Come out!” I shouted in Russian, firing off a warning shot and crouching at the steps.
I heard what sounded like a fearful whimper and blinked as I began to have doubts about the intentions of my visitor.
“Come out!” I cried again, using a little less force this time.
The whimpering continued, but the intruder did not reveal herself. It almost sounded like a child. What would a child be doing sixty miles away from civilization in the middle of a late spring blizzard, I asked myself. Not to mention atop of my house.
I shouted for her to come out again, but there was no reply beyond the same timid whimpering. I snarled angrily and thought about firing off another shot. I decided against it, however. Instead, I did something that was incredibly stupid. I stepped out first, exposing myself to possible fire from cover.
If this is a ruse, you’ve earned yourself the right to die by falling for it, I angrily chastised myself.
Luckily, I did not get shot. That would have been so awkward, I imagine.
“It’s alright,” I murmured, trying to sound less forceful while still keeping the volume needed to be heard through the storm, “Just step out.”
As I neared the chimney, I could hear the whimpering more clearly. Only, it wasn’t whimpering, but the sounds of someone crying. I broadened my approach to come around the stone rectangle protruding from my roof, ignoring the biting chill that was gnawing at my feet and wet scalp. As I circled about, I came to realize that either the crazy had followed me home or that I had not been seeing things at all.
It was the little yellow wing-horse from earlier. She was staring up at me with terror in her big blue eyes, squinting against the sharp wind. Whether she was trembling in fear or from the cold, I could not tell. I began to approach very slowly, only to spook the poor animal into backing away. I watched in complete awe as she unfurled her wings and tried to flap them in an attempt to escape, but she cried out when the violent wind shoved her back against the chimney. She tried once again, but the storm seemed to have taken its toll on her and in the end, her legs couldn’t even hold her up when she tried to stand. Already, my good sense began to beg me to not do what I was already about to do. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually one to leap at the opportunity to help others but this creature had saved me. At the very least, I could repay her in a way that didn’t involve terrifying the poor thing.
She squeaked in shock upon collapsing against the roof. I quickly moved to her but she scrambled away from me once more until she backed up against the chimney. She began to cry again and started to plead in English, her voice still ridiculously timid. My English being fairly rusty; I still knew enough to get by. It’s easier to understand than it is to speak it.
“P-P-Please, don’t h… don’t hurt me! I-I’m s… I’m sorry!” she cried, staring up at me as though I were her doom.
I can’t really explain it, but I felt incredibly saddened over this. That’s a big deal for me, just so you understand. I’ve seen many an awful thing happen and not batted an eyelash or lost a wink of sleep. This… creature, though, was simply breaking my heart by thinking me a source of danger to her.
I stepped up to her and knelt down by her, my teeth starting to chatter from the unforgiving cold. After another second to consider my options, I made a decision to move things to a less frozen spot. I placed the heavy gun inside of the robe’s pocket and tied the belt extra tight before showing the strange creature my empty hands. Her whimpering quieted a bit as she got the message that I had no plans to hurt her. Gently, I worked my hands under her and slowly lifted her up in my arms. She was no than bigger some of the wild cats I had seen but even so, she seemed to be deceptively light. Almost as though she were hollow. She continued to stare up at me as I slowly took her inside. Now closer, I could see how bad of a condition she was in. Her hair/mane was in disarray and filled with twigs and dirt. There was mud splattered about her face and dozens of these strange… oddly grey… scratch marks all over her form.
“Y… You’re not going t-to hurt me?” she asked in shock, her words half slurred. That may not be the exact wording used. Like I said, rusty English. It’s much better these days.
I shook my head at her as I stepped inside, pausing just long enough to brace my cargo against one knee and pull the hatch closed before locking it with a freed up hand. Already my feet were screaming in pain against the relatively warm steps coming into contact with my skin.
“Y-You’re not… You’re…” she mumbled as her eyelids began to fall.
I gave her a shush and watched as her pretty eyes closed. Before I had even made it halfway down the steps, she was out cold. Pun not intended.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Two days had passed. In that time, the wing-horse (which Google called a Pegasus (I knew that…)) had been washed with warm water, cleaned off with a steamed handkerchief, dried with a large towel, and wrapped in a sleeping bag set near the fire. I even took the liberty of cleaning her hair and brushing out all the debris (though I’m still not sure just what compelled me to do that). It was the softest hair I’d ever felt in my entire life and brilliantly sparkled after drying out. I am ashamed to say that I felt a bit of envy surge throughout me somewhere during the process. My hair is somewhat stiff and tends to be uncooperative, whereas this… Pegasus’ hair was one long flowing pink wave of dazzling silk strands. After she had dried out I moved her to one of the beds and made certain she was comfortable, giving her a large pillow to wrap around. Following that, I spent most of my free time doing research, emailing any trustworthy contacts, and even made two separate phone calls.
And I’ll have you know, I loathe making phone calls.
All responses came back negative. No one had heard anything about strange horses, new genetic breeding, winged talking animals, or even anything slightly out of the ordinary. I wasn’t stupid enough to send any pictures, figuring a description to be more than enough to rouse any recognition that could be had. I did, however, receive a lot of advice that involved holding back off the cider and sour apple vodka. A few more names added to the list of people to enact violence upon the next time I see them, I suppose.
The pegasus had slept peacefully, only able to remain awake for a few minutes at a time. I was not sure if she was sick or not, so I had been feeding her chicken noodle soup. Fairly nutritious, Easy to digest, good for fighting off a lot of cold-related illnesses, and it was reasonably delicious. That second evening was no different, other than the fact that I was jealous that she was getting all the soup and decided to toss on an extra can for yours truly.
I checked the clock as I finished cooking up the soup, confirming that it was nearly twenty-two hundred hours by the time I turned off the stove. I brought a tray consisting of two bowls of soup and two cups of water near the fireplace, then fetched my ‘Unreasonably Large’ (says it on the tag) bean bag that I keep around for when I want to be extra close to the fire. The pegasus had been shivering that day, despite being wrapped in thermal blankets, so I had moved her back over to a sleeping bag near the fireplace.
After making myself comfortable, I slowly slurped at the soup as I reached over and gently ran a hand through my visitor’s delightfully soft hair. I’m not exactly the girliest girl around, but I can assure you, this darling creature was possibly going to kill even me with her cute.
Simply put, she was adorable.
My touch disturbed her sleep and she eventually began to stir awake. The process got a little fast forwarded by an incredibly soft sneeze that was so unnecessarily sweet that I couldn’t help but laugh. After the whole “Aaaaaahhh~! Chu~!” incident had passed, she slowly opened her eyes. I continued to run my hand through her hair for a bit, not even realizing that I was still doing so until she turned her head to look up at me. At first she was shocked to see me, but after a bit of taking in her surroundings, she came to the conclusion that she was not in danger and relaxed visibly.
“Thank you,” she whispered weakly.
I smiled. That was the first time she had spoken since she had passed out in my arms those few days ago. She was getting better, it seemed.
“Da,” I replied softly before attempting English, pausing to mentally dust off the vocabulary. “You are… well?”
She nodded.
“You can… Ah… Can you stand?” I think I got it right, anyway. It got easier as time passed, but having not spoken a word of it in at least two years… Well, even getting back on a bike takes a little remembering.
I watched as she struggled to push herself up but she was still too exhausted to actually stand just yet. She slumped back down and let out a pitiful whine as she gave up. I let out a chuckle before pulling her sleeping bag closer. I unwrapped the yellow wing-horse and made room on the ‘Unreasonably Large’ bean bag. A minute of gentle moving about later and I was letting her rest in my lap with my arm cradling her head up. Over the next half hour, I silently spoon fed her all of her bowl and a little bit of mine as well, pausing only to let her drink the water. She ate and drank quietly, offering no resistance as she was served.
“Thank you… No more, please,” she murmured, her voice a bit stronger now.
“Da,” I answered as I began to feed myself. After I had a few bites of noodle soup myself, I looked down at her with a soft smirk.
I placed my spoon in the bowl before pointing to my chest, “I am called Shara.”
It took her a moment to get what I was asking. I could not remember how to ask one’s name in English at the time. I’m fairly certain it was supposed to be the sixth phrase learned, too. Correspondence classes, by the way, are not worth your money. Go get a Rosetta Stone or attend an actual college class if it means that much to you.
“I’m F… Fluttershy,” she slowly placed a hoof over what one might consider a chest.
I snickered, “Fluttershy? That is what you are called?”
She blinked, not expecting that reaction, “Wh… What? Why is it funny?”
“Is funny,” I replied, chuckling a bit more, “You name. It is… pretty…? Ah, English… Cute? Is this right word?”
“My… My name is cute?” She blinked, staring at me in shock.
“ Da,” I answered with a nod, smiling warmly at her, “Fluttershy is cute name.”
“Oh…T-Thank you,” she stammered, blushing at the way she was being treated.
“No. You help me. With bear, yes?” I’m fairly certain I sounded completely stupid. Shara grateful. Ugh. Make talky horse soup. Ugh. Feed it to pretty horse. Da! You’d think I would know how to properly speak one of the most widely spread languages in the world. Truly, it’s a wonder I got as far as I did without at least becoming halfway fluent.
She blinked as the memory slowly registered, “You were the human.”
“Da,” I replied, smirking a bit more.
I am not joking. This is what she said: “He was a nice bear. You just scared him, is all. He’s very sorry.”
I asked her to repeat that a couple of times, not quite certain that I had heard her right.
“I’m sorry, Equestrian probably…. isn’t a well-known language here,” she said with a large yawn interspersed in the middle of her sentence.
“Equestrian?” I blinked, not quite understanding the word. At the time, I thought it was some weird English accent or something. “What does… this mean?”
“It’s… what we’re…” she started to say, starting to drift off to sleep. Silly thing never finished her sentence. I couldn’t help but chuckle as she surrendered herself to sleep yet again. I exhaled a very tired sigh before gently lifting her back up and laying her on the closest bed. I tossed a few more logs on the fire to keep it going through the night and turned on the one ceiling fan that does its absolute damndest to keep the air circulating.
It was time for bed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I didn’t get much sleep. I just laid there and let my mind mull over everything that had happened and that I had done. With ‘Fluttershy’ not in my actual range of sight, my more cynical side was more easily surfacing. It was practically chastising me for my actions. I didn’t want to listen to it at the moment. Even if everything it was saying was making sense.
You don’t know what that thing is, Shara. You don’t know if it’s from another planet, some freakish experiment, or some rich kid’s pet horse.
Since when do you bring strangers into your house and spoon feed them, anyway? Are you starting to get soft? You can’t get soft, yet. Not now. You’re not even thirty. You’ve still got a lot of ground to cover before you can start breathing easy. Too many people who would take advantage of you.
She’s cute, sure. Great. Wonderful. But you pulled her into your lap and acted like a damned parent coddling a newborn. Why? She special or something? I mean, sure, she’s unique. But you know that unique means valuable. Even if you don’t want to consider what she might mean to you, think of what she might mean to someone else. You know people, past clients in fact, that would kill you to make something one-of-a-kind theirs.
If you’re not going to think of your safety, think of that… Think of her safety. You have enemies. A lot of them. This would not be the first home that’s been burned to the ground and you know it won’t be the last. You’ve had close friends die for the sole intent of hurting you before; don’t leave that side of you open to exploitation again.
She needs to leave. You can give her whatever you like to help her on her way. You saved her from the storm, she saved you from the bear. All debts are paid.
Don’t be stupid.
My practical side was right. As awful as it felt to admit, letting Fluttershy in my life would only cause us both a lot of problems and pain. I had to send her on her way, maybe point her in the right direction… Help her get what she needed. Hell, I could even give her a gun. I had plenty to spare. That’s when I tried to imagine her trying to hold a gun in her… hooflike… things… Whatever they were. They looked more like blunted tentacles than horse legs, in my opinion.
Yes, this is for the best. Without a doubt.
And no matter how many times I told myself that, I was not able to shake off the worry that I was feeling. I’ve left kids in warzones without so much as a second thought, yet letting this ‘pony’ as she called herself, travel alone in Northeastern Russia was scratching at the edge of my mind. My worries were giving me worries! And I don’t handle stress very well.
That morning, I woke up and made breakfast using blueberries and yogurt. I caught myself wondering if the pony ate chicken where it came from; or maybe she was like other ponies and ate only veggies, fruits, and grass. That sounded like an interesting topic to bring up before she left. I added some granola and honey-baked peanuts for protein and fiber, finishing the mix just before hearing her small voice peep up from right behind me.
“Um… Miss Shara.”
I… almost reacted the way I usually do when someone gets so close to me without my knowing. I stopped myself, however, and forced myself to slowly turn about. She was bashfully fidgeting about with her head lowered.
“Good morning, little Fluttershy,” I replied with a ghost of a smile, “I have food almost ready for eating.”
She lifted her head, her eyes wide with gratitude, “Oh… I… I don’t want to impose.”
I’m still a little fuzzy on the word ‘impose’ but I think it means something along the lines of taking advantage of someone else. However, back then? I thought that she meant she didn’t want to gain weight. For the record, I still hate this language.
“You are… full?” I gave her a sideways glance before taking a large scoop of whatever you might call this creation and dropped it into a bowl. I saw her stare at it with what one could construe as lust.
“There is more.” I tilted the mixing bowl, showing her the healthy sized portion left over. “Peanuts, berries, yogurt, granola… And honey, too.”
Her eyes widened considerably as she stared. It thought she was going to knock me out and take it by force for a moment. Such excitement was not fated, it would seem, and she finally just blushed and scuffed her hoof about, “M… Maybe just a little.”
I smiled before reaching down to run a hand through her hair and fetched her her own bowl. I instructed her to retrieve the rolling chair at my workbench and sat her in it before setting our bowls at the kitchen island. Watching her eat was delightful, after getting over the fact that she was using a spoon without any fingers. She kept commenting on how it was quite delicious and that the peanuts were amazingly sweet. Other than that, small talk was very sparse. We kept trying to not get noticed staring at one another, but that’s actually very difficult to do when two people are doing just that. Finally, I tried to strike up a dialog.
“Fluttershy.” I had to force myself to not laugh when she flinched at her name. “Where is it you are going?”
“Going? Oh… Um… I’m uh…” she stammered, staring hard at her now second bowl of fruit yogurt, “I… I’m not sure, actually. I’m… I’m looking for somepony, I guess.”
“You are… trying to find… other ponies?” Translation: I can’t understand this moonspeak of yours.
She shook her head a bit, her blush-pink hair flowing with the movement.
“Oh, no. Well, he was a pony, but he’s really a human… I think he stopped being a pony before he left Equestria.”
The funny thing is, I heard that perfectly fine and was able to understand every individual word. The problem this time was that I did not believe my ears. Humans that turn into ponies? I heard wrong, right? Best to check again.
“This human… turns into pony?” I said through a mouthful of peanuts and granola.
Fluttershy nodded before looking back up at me. She had a hopeful twinkle in her eye as she spoke, “Y… You wouldn’t know somepony like that… w-would you?”
“Nyet.” I shook my head, giving her a shrug in return.
She sighed sadly and spooned another bite into her mouth before slumping back into the chair a bit.
“I thought not,” she replied, looking utterly downtrodden. Her sadness made me sad in return, which I quickly and somewhat irritably noted. This whole emotions-on-my-sleeve nonsense was going to get old, fast.
“What ah… What is he called?” I asked, hoping to be able to provide some sort of assistance.
“Called? I don’t… Oh! His name!” She reasoned after a bit of confusion.
“His name is Stephen,” she answered with firm conviction, as though she were certain that would solve everything.
Sadly, it did not.
“Last… name? Yes, what is last name?” I continued to pry.
“Last name?” she repeated, her eyes growing wide.
“Shara is my beginning name.” I pointed to myself for emphasis. “The entire name is Shara Vladimirovna Dostoevskaya.”
Her eyes got wider with the realization that just his first name wasn’t going to cut it.
“I… I don’t know… Pinkie has a lot of names like that but… … Firewall never told us all his names. I’m sure Princess Luna knows but she… she isn’t here.”
“You do not know his names. You do not know where is he. How is it you will find him?” I asked, trying to sound more sympathetic than cynical. Never really was good at it.
I watched as Fluttershy stared at her breakfast for several seconds. Eventually she lowered her gaze until her hair obscured her face. I figured I knew what was coming next but that really didn’t help to prepare me in any way. Sure enough, she let out a sniffle and quivered once or twice. I really can’t explain why that was hard to watch, but I assure you, it was downright painful.
“I don’t knoooow~!” she cried out all of a sudden, letting her head gently smack onto the kitchen island’s tiled surface.
I blinked, marveling at my inward reaction to the sudden outburst of sorrow. After the few moments needed to recover had passed, I tentatively reached out a hand and ran it through her down-soft hair. As I did, though, she responded by really letting go of her tears and sobs.
“Fluttershy, don’t… … I… I can help?” I offered hesitantly, knowing that I should not be doing this and yet... here I was, giving her a reason to stay. I guess I just hate it when people cry. And I don’t mean it makes me sad, I mean it drives me insane. Still, I didn’t want to be a bitch about it. Hopelessness can be pretty upsetting, so her plight was understandable.
She took a good minute longer to cry out her frustrations. Afterwards, she finally lifted her head to look up at me. Her eyes were red and puffy from the tearful display and her body was still shaking a little bit. I leaned down and smiled a bit. Anything to keep her from starting the water works again.
“All is not lost. Promise,” I murmured softly, my hand still comfortingly gliding through her hair.
I watched as she smiled a bit before letting out another sob and suddenly throwing her foreleg… things around my neck and burying her face into my shoulder. Ah, violation-of-personal-proximity, my old friend; how rarely we bump into each other. I did stiffen a tad, I’ll admit. It’s one thing to lay a comforting hand on someone and it’s something entirely different to embrace them. It wasn’t until she spoke that I was able to snap out of my surprise.
“S-Shara, you’re the nicest pon-… human ever! T-T-Thank you!” she cried, her words muffled somewhat in the fabric of my thick blue turtleneck.
That’s when I knew I was really acting out of character. No one in my entire life has classified me as nice; not even as a child, having been quite the mean brat in my younger years. For this feathered horse to believe otherwise meant I was not being myself and while I am many things, I am not a liar. Well, not often, anyway.
“No, Fluttershy, listen,” I said gently but firmly.
She pulled away from me enough to look at me, smiling despite her tears.
“I am not nice person,” I clarified; ready to frighten her with all the horrible stories about me, “Just because I am helping… …”
And in staring at those pretty blue eyes, I found that I had lost my nerve. Completely. I mean, how pathetic is that? It was the truth, though. I could not bring myself to demonize myself to her just because her current view of me did not mesh with the view I had of myself. I could not tell her how wrong she was and possibly hurt her. Cruel may not have been the best way to describe me, but it was probably closer than nice ever could be. In the end, though, I simply let out an impatient huff and shook my head. The amused smirk that had found its way to my lips was more of a self-mocking nature than anything else.
“Fluttershy,” I started over, “One good thing does not change me. But you say kind things and I am grateful.”
“No, Shara,” she countered, shaking her head before hugging my neck again, “I’m the grateful one.”
And this is where I would shut the terrible romance novel and toss it in the fire for using cliché lines. Fortunately, I was not familiar enough with English at the time to fully comprehend the faux pas. Also, life cannot be shut and tossed into the fire. Not literally, at least. I’m sure a few homicidal tendencies could lead to a figurative representation, but unless there’s a client willing to foot the bill… You get the idea.
The point is I was starting to have second thoughts on my original decision to let Fluttershy go her way. And things got worse on that end. The poor thing didn’t know the first thing about taking care of herself. Oddly enough, she knew everything about taking care of every other creature to have drawn breath, but without a home to call her own, she was practically helpless. We didn’t talk much beyond that, though. What little information she could give me was not nearly enough to work with. I was able to determine that her friend was American and that he was a complete idiot that had a huge heart. When she asked how far it was to America, she seemed relieved that Alaska was only a few hundred miles away. Maybe she knew something that I didn’t. Regardless, she seemed certain that flying there on her own would be quite doable now that the storm had passed and was convinced that she was on the right track. I gave a half-hearted attempt to dissuade her but that upbeat attitude seemed to be beyond reasoning. She sounded so naïve, speaking of how wonderful Earth was with such nice people like me and Firewall (what kind of a name is that, anyway?) to help ponies like her along.
A few days passed uneventfully while Fluttershy recovered her strength. She seemed to enjoy being outside and messing around in the snow in an attempt to find animals to play with. She quickly learned that I wasn’t much of a talker and seemed to be okay with that, seeing as she wasn’t much of one either. Most of her recovery had been within the first day of being awake, but she had been through a lot.
She was amazing. She could talk to animals (I swear, I’m not making this up) and they would talk back. I watched her train a bird how to sing loudly and with greater clarity in just an hour. She kept telling me that it was magic, but I didn’t buy all of that. At least, not until the fifth day when she was well enough to fly again, whereupon I just stared at her with my jaw hanging open. The flying was astounding in and of itself. I wouldn’t have believed that such small wings could propel a creature of her size and weight. Not until she gave me proof that she could adjust her weight by simply willing it so. But that wasn’t even the craziest part. She could change the weather. Not much, mind you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I watched her create a rain cloud about four feet in diameter by flying in a tight circle and then grab hold of it with her forehooves before shaking it (adorably) to cause a small contained shower. I’m no science buff, but I’m pretty sure one does not simply shake rain out of a cloud. Or even grab hold of it in the first place!
She tried to explain the ‘magic’ behind it but it just didn’t make any sense. I took her to my computer to show her just what Wikipedia had to say on the matter of weather, but she insisted that it did not work that way back in Equestria. Of course, she went about it in the most passive way possible, but there you have it. Still, I regretted that decision. After a bit of deductive work, she learned that she could research anything and everything through my computer. That was the start of some truly strange happenings. First obstacle was manipulation of the keyboard and mouse. I will say that I am guilty of taking amusement at her expense when she whined at how her hooves simply were no good. After a few hours of that, she decided to get creative. I watched, with no small amount of astonishment, as she turned sideways and made use her of her left wing as a prehensile limb to type on the keyboard. She then took it a step further and used her tail to move and click the mouse, though that took a lot of trial and error before she could rely on her tail to obey without furiously staring at it.
Damndest thing ever.
Second obstacle was caused by her lack of understanding concerning the human race. At the time, I didn’t buy her tale of sugarplum fairy land where everything is bright, peaceful, and full of magic. That doubt was painfully dispelled when the poor dear was confronted with the brutal reality of humanity. She was incredibly interested in studying history but would often leave the computer to hug me in an attempt to feel better whenever she would hit some of the darker parts of humanity’s past. At first I found that incredibly irritating, but frequency demanded that I be patient and help assuage her fears. To her credit, she refused to lose faith in the goodness of people, but then again, so did Anne Frank and look what happened to her.
I kept my promise and dissected just about every last detail she could give me about her long lost human. It wasn’t easy, lacking names, social information, and physical description but I was able to nail down a good many things after some serious deductive effort. He was a white American (oh joy…) with a penchant for jokes. He liked computers and was old enough to both drink and smoke. He was a… a brony. I did not know what that was until I scoured the internet. Well, I found out. And then I hurt myself laughing at the very idea. I quickly discovered that this ‘Stephen’ and I had nothing in common beyond white skin and a handle on how to be violent when necessary. What shortly followed thereafter was shocking and not just a little troubling. After digging deeper into the subject, I found that there was quite a link between this ‘brony’ and Fluttershy. I didn’t have to muse upon this for long before I was suddenly questioning my sanity. Even moreso than the first time, which should be indicative to just how mind blowing this development was.
After taking a good hour or two of computer use away from my visitor, I beckoned her over.
“Fluttershy,” I called, never taking my eyes off the monitor.
She cantered over with a granola bar in her mouth, setting it on the desk beside me. It was still in its wrapper, though the wrapper was missing nearly all of its corners by now. I didn’t know right at that moment, but Fluttershy thought I was upset with her for loudly fighting with the snack.
“Sorry, I wasn’t meaning to make such noise,” she mumbled meekly, “I just can’t get it open. I’ll try to be quieter.”
I blinked before looking down at her beside me and then at the unyielding bar of food wrapped in stubborn plastic.
“No, I want to ask you questions,” I replied with a laugh before taking the healthy treat in my hands and easily tearing it open.
She almost looked angry upon watching me make the deed look so trivial. More offended than anything, actually. I responded by chuckling and breaking the bar in half; giving her the bigger piece. I watched as she grasped it between two hooves and began to fervently nibble at a corner.
“Fluttershy, you are famous,” I said, bringing my attention back to the image on my computer, “Did you know?”
“Oh?” she hiked back up on her back legs, placing her forehooves on the desk and staring at the screen, “Oh! Oh, it’s us!”
“Us?”
‘Us’ was a picture of six horses that were much like Fluttershy. They were all huddled together, happily hanging on and off each other with nothing but smiles on their faces. Fluttershy was one of them, but besides a blue one with a gay-pride colored mane, she was the only one with wings. The two ponies with purple manes had horns protruding from their heads and the two remaining ones who were respectively orange and pink seemed to have no special additions.
“Yes! Yes, those are my friends back in Equestria!” She seemed to be on the edge of hyperventilation. “T-This one is Applejack and that one is Pinkie Pie! They’re Earth Ponies! The unicorns are Twilight Sparkle and Rarity! And that’s Rainbow Dash! I’ve known her since… since… Gosh, almost forever!”
I watched her stare longingly at the computer screen. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to make of this. What I was looking at was a promotional advertisement for a Western cartoon. A rather popular one, if sources were to be trusted. A little voice inside of me was setting off all sorts of warnings. So many things just seemed off about this. It just couldn’t be real. However, there was no mistaking the love in those big blue eyes.
“Uh-huh,” I replied before looking back at the screen. “So you knew about this?”
“Well… Firewall did say I was famous here I just… I didn’t know how,” she answered, still distracted by what was in front of her. “Can… Are there more pictures to look at?”
Well, it went downhill from there. I sank the next two hours of my life looking for pictures of colorful cartoon horses. At first it thrilled her to see her old friends again, but the sensation didn’t last. It wasn’t long before her joy changed to longing and then longing to sorrow.
“That is good for now,” I mentioned casually, masking my worry as I closed the window.
She stared at the blank desktop screen for a few seconds longer as I stood up. I began to busy myself with dinner preparations, not wanting to focus on the saddened pegasus. I didn’t want to think on it at the moment. I didn’t want to contemplate that she might not be real. I didn’t want to think about how much it would hurt her if she happened to be the only one that actually existed. I didn’t want to think about having next to no possible way of helping her. I just wanted to focus on something else. I do a very good job of keeping a tight grip on my emotions. It just comes with the occupation. An emotional gun is usually a dead gun. Still, it’s best done with something to occupy the mind.
“Shara,” she said, still at the computer, “I… I have to go.”
Though I did not react outwardly, I could feel icy fear slip into my veins and chill me thoroughly. The very idea of the helpless little thing going out into the world bothered me. Irrationally so. I wanted to forbid her much like a mother would a child, but I was not so easily swayed by my impulses.
“I have to find Firewall. I… I can’t…”
“Is alright.” I cut her off before she could continue trying to justify her actions. “You have no need to explain. I am understanding.”
“Thank you,” she murmured before lowering her voice beyond what I could possibly be expected to hear. “Would… Would you come with me?”
I blinked, having not been able to hear her. I took my attention off the sweet potatoes I was crushing and looked up at her. “I can not hear.”
She repeated whatever she said, only instead of increasing the volume, she increased the pitch. It all blended together in one innocent squeak for me.
“Speak!” I shouted somewhat. Sorry, I know I shouldn’t yell, but my impatience for shyness is quite mighty indeed.
“Wouldyoucomewithme!?” she cried out rapidly, spooked by my forceful tone.
“Nyet,” I answered immediately, though I felt a pang of regret shoot through my body as soon as I had said it. “You are kind to ask. But no.”
She seemed genuinely distraught but her determination was as durable as steel. She nodded sadly and started to head for the door. I watched her go and it took every bit of willpower I had but just as she reached for the door handle, I called out to her.
“Travelling at night is not good.” Oh, I am smooth, aren’t I? “You should wait for morning.”
She stared at the door for several more seconds before looking back at me. We both knew it would be a few more hours until the sun began to fall, much less darken the skies. I added some marshmallows over the crushed sweet potatoes and sprinkled a layer of brown sugar and cinnamon on top. Fluttershy happens to love cinnamon. How do I know this? I caught her sniffing a bottle of cinnamon perfume (never used; stupid gift from a stupid friend who died a stupid death) as though she were a drug addict.
“I… I guess so,” she replied, giving the door one last glance.
And that was that. If she had been a fish, I’d have been a well fed fisherman that night. Seeing as she wasn’t, I instead had company for one more night.
We spent the rest of the night in relative silence. What little small talk we had was a bit strained. Except for the conversation about cinnamon. She mentioned that she had a dirty secret love for the stuff and I made mention that I already knew. After retelling my witnessing of just how loudly she was inhaling that bottle of perfume, she turned pinker than her hair. She then made mention that she couldn’t possibly be any more embarrassed. I proved her wrong by describing how hard it was to not laugh at her when she tried tasting it.
The levity helped to alleviate the tension, but that didn’t make it all better. Deep down, I still knew she was leaving and deep down, I knew she wanted me to help her. She never asked why I couldn’t or wouldn’t help. She never even hinted at it a second time. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to mask the worry and fear that was no doubt roiling about inside of her. She knew the world was dangerous, even if she didn’t know just how dangerous it was. And she didn’t want to be alone. I could relate to that, somewhat. Being alone may be simpler, but that doesn’t make it any more enjoyable. Just having Fluttershy stay for that short week was enough to remind me of that. Watching her leave was going to make me mope about for a long time to come.
Still, it’s for the best, I thought, Just have to keep telling myself that.
I’ll have you know, I can sometimes be a big fat liar.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The next morning was pretty straightforward. Breakfast, inane small talk that I could not remember to save my soul from eternal damnation, and enough awkward tension to choke out a lesser woman. I wasn’t a bitch; I helped her prepare and was sure to give her plenty of practical supplies. I even let my guilt nag me into giving her some money so that she could get by a little easier. As I gave it to her, my flighty mind tried to imagine her cantering through a drive through for a burger. Which reminded me to not bring up feeding her chicken.
After an hour of pointless mucking about, we finally made our way outside to say our goodbyes. Even though I’d given her plenty of provisions, I’d brought just a few more things to help her along. I’m such a bleeding heart.
“Well, I guess this is it,” she murmured sadly as she stubbornly insisted to stare at the ground.
“So it is,” I replied, approaching her with a long black scarf in hand. This scarf, while not important to me, was actually somewhat valuable. Being made of silk and practically weightless, there was really no reason for me to be giving it to her. She had a damned coat of fur, after all. I just could not help myself, though. That nagging sensation that was leaving me worried for her sake had become a harrowing dread hanging over my head.
I smiled a bit, my insides twisting a tad as I knelt down and swung the scarf down around her neck. I wrapped it about a few times before tucking it into itself. She turned away from me somewhat before finally lifting her gaze and looking at me out of the side of her eyes.
“I’m… You’ve been very good to me, Shara,” she whispered bashfully, “I wish I had a gift for you, too. After everything you’ve given me.”
“Is not to worry,” I replied gently, taking the time to thread my fingers through her hair one last time, “You will call me if things are bad, yes? You have number still?”
I think my English was a tad more mutilated than that, judging by the fact that it took her a few seconds to understand what I was trying to say. She eventually smiled and nodded. She then stepped forward and hugged my neck with one arm/hoof/leg/thing. I’m very certain I got more hugs from Fluttershy in that one week than every other person in my life combined. I had to force myself to hug her back, but only at first. I felt that cynical part of me chewing at my neck again, telling me that I wasn’t going to make this any easier for myself by showing affection. Still, I ignored the inner voice in lieu of the moment and let myself relax.
“I will miss you,” she whimpered, her voice suddenly shaky.
Crying… Why she had to cry, I’m not certain. I was certain that it was going to make me cry though, so I quickly pulled away, standing up and letting out a hasty sigh. I don’t cry beautifully, nor do I behave rationally or intelligently when it happens.
“Ahhhh, is best to not be wasting time,” I stared out at the forest where there was absolutely nothing to see. I could see her gaze at me sadly out of the corner of my eye but I pretended to not notice. I place my hands within my large longcoat pockets, blinking as I felt the belt wrapped around a holster.
“Oh, I uh… I have one thing more,” I stammered a bit before pulling out the contents of my pocket. It was a gun, belt, spare magazine, and holster. Just a small nine millimeter with a full mag, nothing crazy. “This is a weapon. It is for protecting.”
Her eyes grew wide upon staring at it. “P-Protecting w-w-what?”
“For protecting Fluttershy. You,” I replied bluntly before kneeling down and beckoning her forward, “I saw you at computer. I think to myself, ‘If her wing can use computer, it can use gun’ and so I… I decided to give this to you for protecting.”
She didn’t comply at first but after a short staring contest, she gave in and trotted over to me. I gave her an encouraging smile as I looped the belt around… well, maybe it was the waist? Not certain. I didn’t take Cartoon Anatomy back in my six years of legitimate education. Just for clarity’s sake, it was behind her wings and in front of her butterflies ‘Cutie Mark’ (That’s not a joke. She really calls it that. Like it’s the label bestowed upon it by science.). I had adjusted the straps to swing parallel to the belt so she would have easy access to both the gun and the ammo on the other side. After giving it a once over, I nodded and glanced at her.
“Is tight?” I asked.
“N-No,” she shook her head, “No, it’s fine.”
“Mmm,” I grunted before giving a short nod and stepping back, “Try to use it.”
“What?” she looked back up at me in horror.
I pursed my lips and gave her a look, letting her know I wasn’t going to play coy with her. She lowered her gaze before slowly reaching her wing back for the weapon. She actually startled at touching it, as though her body were electrified by its contact. After a moment to recover, she wrapped the tips of her oddly prehensile wings around the weapon and tugged at it several times to no avail. Confusion quickly marred her gaze and before long, her fear was replaced by frustrated strain. I did my best not to laugh.
“It’s stuck!” she whined.
My best was not enough. I was laughing uncontrollably at just how green she was.
“W-What’s wrong?!” she craned her head back to look at the holster, only to notice a leather strap holding the gun in place. Her ears fell flat against her head in embarrassment. “Oh.”
After a bit of fiddling, she unclasped the weapon and drew it out with a cute grunt. Her face lit up with triumph and she gave an enthusiastic bounce.
“I did it!” she cried, throwing her wings in the air with pride.
The motion caused the gun to fly right out of her wing and nearly smack me in the face. Had I not caught it, it would have done just that.
“Eh… We should work on gun control,” I said with a chuckle, suddenly grateful I had the safety on.
Her cheeks burned red with shame as she cantered over, timidly laughing at herself, “Aheh~… W… What is gun control?”
“Is responsible use of gun,” I explained the best I could. My memory isn’t perfect; I can’t remember exactly what I had said. “Weapon is dangerous. Accident could be bad.”
Her eyes slowly grew to twice their normal size, which were exceptionally large to begin with.
“Bad?” she stuttered, terrified of the prospect.
“Bad,” I confirmed with a nod, reaching over and holstering the weapon back in its sleeve on her side.
“Bad like… You might get hurt?” she asked, the fear slowly settling in.
“Bad like you might die or kill someone.” I was very clear about it. I wasn’t going to sugar coat it for the naïve darling. That would be stupid and would have served no purpose but to leave her utterly unprepared for the world. Yes, it was still difficult for me.
“K-K… kill?” she whispered in shock as though she were struggling with the word.
Oh, I can most assuredly promise you, I was having a hard time deciding how to handle this. A large part of me wanted to smack her upside the back of her head and say Yes, Fluttershy, that’s why it will protect you! While another part wanted to just hug her neck and tell her that everything would be okay. Instead, I behaved rationally, like an intelligent person.
“Da. Kill. Is why you must have gun control. No accidents,” I reasoned with her firmly.
Her eyes locked onto mine and for several seconds, she could only gape at me in dismay. When she finally recovered enough to vocalize, her bottom lip began to quiver.
“T-Take it away!” she suddenly burst into a mess of sobs, “I don’t w-wa… I don’t want it!”
I slapped a hand over my face and inhaled deeply for patience. What the hell was I supposed to do?
“Fluttershy.” My voice was muffled through my hand.
“I d-d-don’t want to hurt anypony!” she cried, hiding her face under a wing.
“Fluttershy,” I raised my voice a bit to try and drown out her sobs.
Unfortunately, it did not work and she simply continued to wail. “I j… I just can’t d-do this! I’m… I’m sorry, Sh-Shara, just take it off!”
I felt a lot of impatient anger boiling up so I decided to put an end to her fearful tirade before I had an outburst of my own.
“FLUTTERSHY!” I shouted, silencing her crying, if not her tears and trembling.
I walked around in front of her and knelt back down, staring at the wings hiding her face. After a deep breath for strength and patience, I slowly pushed her wings out of the way, revealing her tear streaked visage. She gave a timid sniffle and let out an equally meek cough. I snorted, somewhat amused by how heartwrenchingly endearing she was.
“Ahhh.” I pulled the handkerchief that I always keep on hand from its pocket within my longcoat and used it to gently wipe away her tears. “You are like baby.”
That, apparently, offended her delicate sensibilities. “I… I am not!”
I smirked before giving her nose a thump and offering a chuckling rebuttal, “Yes, you are.”
She gave me a pouting stare. “That’s… That’s not a very nice thing for you to say, Shara.”
“Honesty tends to be not nice,” I countered, running my hand through her hair (Still unsure of why I kept doing that). “You are a baby and cannot take care of Fluttershy.”
“I can too!” she insisted, her expression becoming frustrated and fierce. Fierce like a growling puppy losing a fight with a kitten half its size. “I lived by myself next to a dangerous forest just like this one and took care of dozens of animals!”
I rolled my eyes. “Is not forest I am afraid of. Forest is safe compared to many places.”
She didn’t seem so sure of herself anymore. Not after digesting that, anyway.
“I… I can still take care of myself,” she murmured sadly.
I cupped her muzzle in my hand and lifted her gaze to mine. “You have trouble hearing, I think. Listen closely. Can you protect Fluttershy?”
Side note: I still had not figured out how to put ‘R’s on the ends of my ‘You’s just yet.
“I… I can stare…” she started to say before I cut her off.
“Fluttershy,” I shook my head, “Let me try this way. What it someone tries to hurt you?”
“H-Hurt me?” she stammered.
“There are good people and bad people,” I said with a very serious nod, “What if you meet a bad one and cannot run away? Would you fight?”
“F-Fight?” I was starting to doubt that she could complete a sentence without a few extra syllables.
“Sometimes, one must fight,” I told her, still holding her gaze, “No matter how nice you can be, some people are bad. They hurt nice people because nice people do not want to hurt anyone. The only way to stop them is to be stronger than the bad. You must be strong enough to fight. Fight for you and others, maybe. This is not the Equestria you come from… Things are different. Do you understand?”
She didn’t cry (MUCH TO MY RELIEF) but the idea did seem to terrify her quite thoroughly. After a bit, she looked down and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly before taking a step forward and pressing her face into my shoulder. This was a hug that I did not have to force myself into, for once. It felt bad, making her sad like this. I mean, crying out of shock and fear is immature in my opinion. Crying because something really bothers you on some emotional level is something entirely different.
“Fluttershy,” I sighed, my words soft and comforting, “It is not all bad. I am worried. That is all. I would not be glad to hear of you getting hurt.”
Scary as this is, those words were quite true. This silly thing had been by my side for all of a week and here I am dreading the thought of harm coming to her.
“Do you understand?” I murmured gently.
She nodded, her face still pressed into my shoulder. I smirked as I felt a wing wrap around to try to hug me back. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for the sorrow gripping her heart, despite the fact that I was only trying to help. I let my hand slide down the back of her long neck, doing my best to try and comfort the poor girl. Looking back, I wonder if I wasn’t bothering her every time I pat/stroked her head. I mean, that’s sort of how you show affection to a pet and all. Hopefully she understood that I was just trying be… … nice.
“You are mad with me?” I asked, somewhat worried that I had offended her.
She shook her head, withholding her words for a few seconds longer.
“No,” she breathed, “I… I’m scared.”
I blinked before pushing her back somewhat to look her in the eyes, “Scared? Of me?”
She shook her head, “Of this world. I’m… I’m trying to be brave like… Rainbow Dash and Twilight. I… I want to help F-Firewall like he helped us. B-But I don’t know how. I… I’m not a brave pony. I c-can’t help. What can one scared little pegasus do? I c-can’t even make a decent raincloud.”
I hooked a thumb under her chin and shook my head in disapproval.
“You want to help?”
She nodded miserably.
“You want to be strong?”
She nodded again.
I stared at her good and hard, inwardly strangling the little voice of pragmatism begging me to not do this. It died kicking and screaming, leaving a lot of doubt and fear that I would regret this decision. But die it did. Without it to scare me away from getting involved, I was able to look my new friend right in the eyes and smile.
“Is easier with comrade,” I said with a smirk, giving her nose a gentle flick.
Yes, I said comrade.
“You… You’ll come with me?” The smile she gave me was worth my blood, and I don’t say that lightly.
“Da,” I promised before standing back up and turning for the bunker (Err... house), “We should pack. We will need to teach you many things as well.”
She cantered to keep pace, gazing up at me in thrilled awe. “Y-Yes. Many things! I… What comes first?”
“I teach you Russian. Unless you speak something else?”
“Oui, je parle français, Madame!” she chipped happily as we approached the door.
… Ugh. French.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse.
-=-
This has been a fan-written story by CardsLafter - Follow me on DeviantArt to stay up to date with TTEOAP
Questions, Comments, and Criticism may be directed to the EQD Blogpage
For other questions or more personal comments, email me at CardsLafter@gmail.com
My Little Pony and all characters involved are © of Hasbro and Lauren Faust
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Holy fuck. Chapter 15... IT'S HERE!!!
1035177
Sorry to burst your bubble, mate, but this was out for a while.
It was re-released just now though, for reasons which I am unsure of.
1037050
Damnit. I'll go cry in the corner, then.
Okay...I'm not quite sure why I just now noticed this but "Three Days After Flutterfall"
....
Did I miss something? Was there a "Flutterfall" that I should have read? ...I'm confused~!
What the hell is going on? I read the first three chapters and loved them... this doesn't match up and I have no idea what the hell is happening. Why does it go from chapter three to chapter fifteen??? Is this a re-write? and where can I find the original??? Someone please explain.
1035177 The first guy was late to the party.. Never thought I'd say that.
1041560
If you read chapters 1-3 here you need to now go here to get the rest of them (up to chapter 14).
Though I am confused as to how this fits into all the shenanigans Firewall got into, I mean, how are we in Russia, with Fluttershy?
Dat Name... How would you pronounce that without having an accent
1048735
Until recently, I was part of the ignorant mass watching EQD for this to update. Those poor, poor people.
I could make comments about different parts of the story (good or at least not bad comments), or I could just say something about this chapter as a whole and move onto the next part. I choose the latter option.
Great chapter. I loved it.
dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Bonbon_OMG_LOVE.png dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/sillyfilly_Fluttershy.png dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/shrug_Luna_apple.png dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Luna_lolface.png dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/yay_red.png dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Fluttershy.png
Ouais je parle francais aussi: jk i am flunking french.
Btw I think springfield armory 1911s are overpriced, id rather go with a Kimber
and well, I guess F*** the world for making another damn fic i gotta read
Ouais je parle francais aussi: jk i am flunking french.
Btw I think springfield armory 1911s are overpriced, id rather go with a Kimber
and well, I guess F*** the world for making another damn fic i gotta read. time to crack open the old fic folder because he made it in a F***ing google docs to.
Troll. Heinous troll. Good read tho.
i53.plebius.net/ol/fz/sw/tmp/frabz-One-does-not-simply-shake-rain-out-of-a-cloud-b4f5c7.jpg I made this as soon as I read that
So is this the next part after the David showdown? I'm confused.
1394291 He really needs to explain this part doesn't he...
What the hell man! You go from chapter 3 to chapter 15 just like that? What the fuck!
Why did you have to skip all the way to 15? Why couldn't you have just put up the chapters like a normal person? Now I'll never get to finish this! Buck you!
1742724
Google search this fic.
Its already complete. He is posting the revised chapters on fimfic, but the entire first part is already complete on EQD.
I suggest you read those before coming into chapt 15-
At first I was like wtf? Is this a whole new story?
Then I scrolled down to the part about flutter talking about finding firewall
I want
MOAR
2291228
That's exactly what happened to me!
At first I was like, "What the buck is this?"
Then I was like, "What the buck is Fluttershy doing in Russia?????"
Then I was like, "Oh she mentioned Firewall. Yay."
Then I finished and I was like, I WANT MIRE FIREWALL!!!!!!"
Wha, whats going on?!?!?!?!?!?! I go from chapter 8 with them doing something with
and now Fluttershy says he's gone??!!
2930978
Chapters 1-8 are REWRITES. He did up to chapter 13 originally, and is going back and rewriting them because 1-13 originals were written while he was kinda drunk and depressed; were not planned out ahead and were rather improvised each chapter, and were not his best work. Having read the originals, I can safely say the rewrite on FIM are vast improvements. The transition from 13-14 also has a time and perspective shift. Thus why Twi and company are on earth and humans; because of big reveals in 11-13. I advise DO NOT READ the originals, just bide your time and follow the rewritten version, and don't skip ahead for these last two chapters because they spoil the surprises.
dam
Ehm buddy, I really love your story, don't get me wrong, but you have me the hell confused here xD I mean... David sends Steven/you?/Firewall home, and then comes this.... Mmmmkay? I am kinda hesitant to read on right now, so I guess I might just wait for the other chapters to be revised, maybe I can get rid of that money using my head as a drumm and my confusion for drummsticks then ;) xD Sorry just a joke, still love it.
Of course the ponies would come looking for him. The question is why they came alone, not as an army. Poor Fluttershy lost and alone in Siberia, there's no way that could have gone as planned. I've got an idea of what David can do with his fledgeling Equestria.
I'm so confused... welp, guess I have to go and read the rest of it on EQ.
Also, adorable Fluttershy is adorable.
oh great now since i can't read chapters 8-14 here i have to go back and read the unrevised version of the story since they are really different and if there is a revised version of those chapters on google docs it wouldn't matter because i don't know how to work google docs to find the chapters.
so either i wait for these next chapters to come out or i read the unrevised version.
gay
I wonder how Fluttershy would react to current events, like that business with the 300 odd Nigerian girls being held hostage. I mean, history is one thing, but them knowing this is happening Right Now would probably break her.
Where is this comming from?!?!
Dear Brony friend. where are Chapters 11, 12, 13, and 14??? You did a major SKIP over. Please bring them into being, so we the readers can get with the storyline. Is Chapter 15. Part2 an open-ended ending or what? Maybe you want somepony else to create the missing Chapters? Or maybe work with you on completing this story? Please respond back as promptly as you can.
4317125 Chapters 11 thru 14 are missing or were not created.
The link hopping is to much to do on my phone, I'm gonna have to stick to pc to continue