She never meant to hurt anyone that day.
Of course, she also never intended to spill orange juice all over her freshly-mopped floor or orchestrate the downfall of civilization as she knew it – really, all she wanted was to collect a few groceries and be on her way, but sometimes life has other plans despite one’s best efforts.
Fluttershy opened the door to her cottage that morning with her head held high (that is, as high as the reclusive pegasus could comfortably manage) and set out from her forest home with the lofty ambition of purchasing a pound of carrots at the farmer’s market for a reasonable price. Such a task would prove hardly daunting for an average pony, and yet Fluttershy often seemed to have an inexplicably difficult time bartering with the local vegetable growers. Over and over she reminded herself that insisting on a lower price was all part of the game, and that no one could fault her for desiring a more economical deal on produce; yet time after time, her confidence fled before the stern gaze of a stubborn vendor of celery or cabbage.
This time would be different, her resolute expression appeared to declare. She would march straight into the town square and demand a decent rate from the vegetable stand, and even the armies of Equestria or Tartarus could not impede her advance. She raised a hoof high in the air and brought it down in a defiant forward stride.
The front of her hoof met the edge of an unseen shallow divot in the ground, bringing her march to a swift halt, yet the inertia from her initial bold lunge propelled her forward as her knees buckled, taking her legs from under her. Landing on her belly, she skidded a few inches before reaching a painful standstill, face down in the damp earth.
Owie. They never told me being assertive would hurt.
~~~
Her right leg carefully bandaged, Fluttershy took a few tentative steps into the bustling market square, her yellow hooves making muted clacking sounds on the flagstone pavement. Though her morning was off to a bit of a bumpy start already, she resolved to leave that privately embarrassing blunder in the past and proceed with her quest. Spotting the familiar face of the orange-maned mare at the carrot stand, she briefly glanced down at the ground, before reluctantly contorting her own face into an exaggerated grimace as she remembered her earlier resolution. Considering that she frequented the farmer’s market nearly every week as a direct result of entertaining a houseful of hungry forest creatures, the thought crossed Fluttershy’s mind that the carrot salespony, who presumably remembered her from previous encounters, probably expected little to no haggling from the ordinarily demure pegasus. Hopefully she could catch the vendor off guard this time with her renewed boldness.
With an offhand glance at the sign off to the side of the carrot stand, this time emblazoned with three gold coins next to a bundle of carrots, she nervously approached the counter. Recognizing her, the yellow salespony’s face showed a hint of a smile as Fluttershy began to speak.
“Three bits for a pound of carrots is...um...is outrageous!” she declared somewhat unconvincingly, channeling Rarity (whose resolve was somewhat stronger when it came to negotiating for the price of produce). “I will pay no more than two bits f-”
“In that case, six bits for you,” the salespony stated flatly, cutting her off in midsentence.
Uh-oh. Fluttershy froze, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t planned any further than her initial declaration of displeasure when devising her dialogue.
“Um, well, I...uh...p-please?” she stammered.
The carrot vendor simply glared at her, gesturing to her sign as if inviting her to make another offer. Three bits was high to begin with, but twice the ordinary rate was ridiculous. Surely she could gather the determination to insist on a lower price than that.
“Um, maybe we could just go with-” Fluttershy began, regretting her resolution to negotiate for a more fair price in the first place.
“Six bits.”
“Are you sure that’s-”
“Six bits for a pound of carrots! Didn’t you hear me the first time?”
Fluttershy merely squeaked, breaking eye contact with the salespony. She hurriedly rummaged through her saddlebag, producing six glimmering coins, which she placed on the counter, gingerly nudging them in the other mare’s direction before seizing a bundle of carrots from the stand and turning to leave, face glowing bright red.
She made it no more than four steps in the other direction before she froze at the sound of another angry market-goer.
“Six bits for one pound of carrots? You charged her six bits for one pound of carrots? That’s borderline highway robbery! What gives you the right to exploit a customer like that?”
She turned her head slowly to catch a glimpse of the owner of the indignant voice, a moustached stallion clad in bright yellow gym shorts. He stood across from the carrot salespony with an appalled expression on his face and a hoof extended in Fluttershy’s direction.
The noise in the market square slowly died down as one by one eyes turned on the three participants in this verbal showdown. An already anxious Fluttershy, cowering under the burning sensation of hundreds of stares suddenly trained on her, felt her heart leap into her throat as she discovered she had unwittingly become the center of attention again. For a pony who detested being thrust under a spotlight for any reason, she seemed to inadvertently find her way into such awkward circumstances curiously often.
“Are any of you hearing this?” the moustached pony asked, glancing around to different members of the crowd. The surprised salespony was already frantically adjusting her sign.
“I can’t be the only one sick and tired of these ridiculous prices! Day after day we work our hooves to the bone to make a living in this world, only to have our hard-earned wages sucked away by greedy producers hawking their overpriced products! I can’t take it anymore, and it’s time we did something about it! Who’s with me?”
Faces in the crowd turned toward one another, some mumbling confused words to each other in the heat of the moment, before hundreds of ponies, spurred on by the insistent words of the dissatisfied stallion, suddenly swiveled -- almost in unison -- toward the carrot vendor. Though just minutes previously none of them had seemed at all enthused about the prospect of taking an active role in reforming their afternoon schedule, let alone the economic system of the Ponyville farmer’s market, they now carried similarly disgruntled expressions. The carrot pony gulped nervously, shuffling her hooves and scooting slowly away from the counter.
Fluttershy looked around her, painfully aware of every tiny movement she made. The ponies in the crowd -- who had formed a rough circle around the carrot stand -- appeared to be growing more and more agitated as they grumbled amongst themselves, no louder than a dull roar in the background, yet deafening to Fluttershy’s terrified ears. Some of them took a few steps forward, looking around at each other as if unaware of what they collectively ought to do about this exciting new problem.
Then the market square erupted into unbridled chaos. The crowd of ponies, who had gone from generally indifferent to mildly displeased to vaguely enraged in a matter of seconds, made up their minds and charged the carrot stand in a flurry of color and sound. The orange-maned carrot seller leapt from the stand just as the crowd stampeded through it, continuing onward to the rear of the market plaza. Unsatisfied with the destruction of the offending booth, the mob tore through stands selling various other fruits and vegetables in its fury as startled vendors tried their best to escape the frenzy. Piles of celery and asparagus went flying as wooden frames splintered and came crashing down under the weight of many angry hooves. A few particularly enthusiastic rioters tripped a lemon farmer, grabbed hold of his tail and began bending his legs into clearly unpleasant positions as he cried out in agony.
Meanwhile, Fluttershy, all at once feeling shocked and guilty and frightened at the full-blown brawl she had indirectly incited, instantly regretted both her resolution to demand a fair price for a pound of carrots and her failure to come through with it in the end. Hiding under an upturned apple cart, tears began to form in her eyes as she shuddered at the thought of being implicated for starting the riot in the first place. Everypony might think of her as a "big meanie," which couldn’t be further from the truth. She ought to know by now that assertiveness only ends up hurting other ponies -- why couldn’t she have learned from her experience with Iron Will? Then again, if she had insisted on a lower price, then no one would have noticed anything, and this whole thing would have never happened! But...
One thing was for certain, though: Fluttershy felt very conflicted.
The carnage left in the wake of the market square riot was truly intense, if one were to number the countless innocent fruits and vegetables crushed and trampled underhoof among the casualties of the coming storm. Splintered wood and torn pieces of brightly colored canvas awnings covered the paved plaza, testament to the fury of the masses. The bright sun shone down upon those who would seize the day, and nary a cloud dared to cross the morning sky -- any offending cumulus would probably have been kicked into oblivion by an irate pegasus, anyway.
Around the four edges of the market square there now stood a proud barricade, fabricated from bits and pieces of smashed fruit stands and destroyed advertisements, the gaps filled in with pulpy crushed pineapple and orange. A few marketgoers stood back and surveyed the grand structure, a monument to the lives lost in the struggle for affordable produce (well, no pony had actually died during the riot, but perhaps things would get more exciting later) while others chased after the few remaining un-destroyed fixtures of the weekly farmer's market. Before long, the active component of the riot had reduced to just a few more determined individuals stomping around aimlessly over a thick layer of slightly sticky sawdust.
The carrot stand, which lay in ruin at the center of the plaza, had inexplicably caught fire and was now burning away halfheartedly, providing a short-lived beacon for the crowd. Beside the smoldering pile lay a particularly uncrushed apple cart, overturned in the heat of the moment and then forgotten, fortunately for the sole inhabitant for whom it now provided shelter, a certain deathly frightened, peace-loving pegasus.
Fluttershy trembled underneath the serendipitous fruit vessel, eyes darting around for any sign of life approaching her hiding place. Her delicate heart raced as she recalled the disturbing events that had just transpired, a whirlwind of unpleasantries -- and carrots -- that spiraled wildly out of control. Uncomfortably aware that fate had placed her squarely in the center of the recent turn of fortune, she considered the likely outcomes of this development: perhaps the anger and excitement would die down relatively soon and the rioters would all realize how silly they were behaving, and everything would go back to normal. Failing that, the Ponyville police were bound to show up any minute to put an end to the chaos, right? Fluttershy wasn't sure of the nuances of Equestrian free speech law, but given the circumstances, surely she would not be counted as responsible for this whole incident...right?
Though for a moment her resolve wavered and she wondered if she truly was at fault and therefore ought to take responsibility -- perhaps that was the right thing to do. Her heart sank at this thought.
Unbeknownst to Fluttershy, a clerical error by an exhausted bookkeeper at the Ponyville police department (who was promptly sacked) had resulted in every available officer receiving a day off that day, and thus predictably they all currently occupied the local donut shop on the exact opposite side of town. Fate seemed rather determined not to let the unfortunate animal lover off easy this time.
As the minutes ticked away under the apple cart it became increasingly clear to Fluttershy that at some point she would need to crawl out from her hiding place and take matters into her own hooves, whatever that might entail. She scrunched her eyes shut at the prospect of trying to calm a crowd of furious ponies; though she had little trouble placating fearsome creatures like bears and manticores, speaking to other ponies was a different game entirely. Recalling the all-too-fresh memories of multiple failed attempts at an assertive demeanor, she concluded that the best way to deal with the current quandary was to speak quietly and without too much force. Certainly that would work -- after all, it had never failed her before.
Now all she needed was a plan...that is, one that didn't involve carrots.
~~~
Near the makeshift front lines of the emerging movement, just in front of the bizarrely majestic fruit-stand-wall, stood the same moustached, gym-shorts-wearing stallion who had engaged the carrot salespony less than an hour before. Having appointed himself the de facto spokespony of the revolt, the boisterous stallion -- who called himself "Ace," a name which, he had emphatically declared, nopony present would soon forget -- had originally conceived the idea to construct the barrier in the first place. Reasoning that the ponies enclosed therein would require some time for deliberation before mounting a full-scale offensive on whatever it was they were fighting against, he explained his plan to the excited rioters, who, drunk on indignation and a renewed feeling of power (and probably a few bunches of overripe grapes), cheerfully set to the work.
Ace himself had never encountered much difficulty in purchasing carrots, nor any other fresh vegetables or fruits, for that matter: a minor-league tennis player, he had never really wanted for much in his life. For that matter, neither had most of the other ponies currently busy with revolutionary business. The problem facing the group might in fact be nothing more than a minor inconvenience for the majority of- no! Perish the thought. An injustice was an injustice; Ace would have his way with the corrupt system, and that was that.
"Excellent work there," he said good-naturedly as he cantered past a small group of ponies busily piecing together fragments of cloth to create a crude banner. "We need a standard to fly before our army as we charge into battle, and this ought to do quite nicely."
"You think so?" one member of the flag team replied, beaming. The center of the flag bore an emblem vaguely recognizable as a bundle of carrots with a vegetable knife protruding from the right side, and directly underneath someone had scrawled the words DON'T TROT ON ME.
"Absolutely." He gave a grin that was more self-satisfied than appreciative, but the creative ponies didn't seem to notice.
Another, a light blue unicorn mare with a blue-and-white-striped mane, chimed in, smiling. "Thanks, mister...uh...mister..."
"Ace." He scowled, glaring at the unicorn, who was already back to her project.
Most of the ponies in the plaza had found some sort of task they deemed pertinent to the upcoming struggle and immediately put their hooves to work on whatever it was, except for Ace, who remained content with supervising the various efforts. They had taken to collectively referring to their group as the "United Carrot Party of Equestria," though Ace himself had pushed for the title "Association of Carrot Eaters." The Carrot Party, or "the C Party" for short, soon found itself in a state of relative confusion, however, when its constituents discovered they weren't entirely sure what exactly they were trying to do next. They had already destroyed the market square and seized all available assets it had to offer. By obliterating the farmer's market, they had technically eliminated the problem posed by the exorbitant charges previously attached to their vegetables. With little remaining to rage against, the rioters were gradually becoming restless. What would they do now?
"We move onward and upward, gaining higher ground as we go," Ace responded vaguely to a cream-colored earth pony who had approached him with this very question.
"For what purpose?"
"Liberty, obviously."
"Liberty to do what?"
"To live our lives independently."
"Independently of what?"
Ace paused for a moment, briefly caught unawares. "Other ponies getting involved in our business, and undermining our values."
“Such as?”
He gritted his teeth. “Values such as independence and...and being free from expensive carrots.”
The mare nodded, apparently satisfied with this response. “So what do we do now?”
~~~
Fluttershy, having worked up enough courage to move from her fixed position beneath the upturned apple cart, reluctantly poked her head out from her shelter and looked around her immediate vicinity. To her right lay the still-smoldering remains of the carrot stand, the sight of which made her wince inwardly. Three bits may have been a steep price for carrots, but it didn’t justify destroying that poor mare’s livelihood. She made a mental note to ask Pinkie Pie for an apology cake to offer her after this whole thing blew over, if she decided to stay in town, that is. What kind of cake might she like, anyway? A carrot cake, perhaps? On second thought, that might not be entirely appropriate.
She shrunk back a few inches upon spotting the edge of the barricade frontier constructed by the other rioters, observing their indignant expressions and industrious attitude. How could they have possibly interpreted her small problem as deserving of such enormous retribution? She could have easily resolved the issue on her own, in retrospect. Six bits for a pound of carrots paled in comparison with the funds it would surely require to repair all the damage she had indirectly caused today. In order to make this all right she first needed to convince them that they were misconstruing her motivations.
Though, she considered, taking a deep breath and retreating back to the safety of the overturned wagon, it probably could wait just a few more minutes.
~~~
While it was previously unclear how the ponies on the other side of the wall might react to the presence of this unusual new movement, after another half hour or so had passed, the guard ponies Ace had set up near each corner began to report energetic chattering and confused conversation from outside the plaza. The time to prepare for the eventual assault on “the other ponies who keep getting involved in our business” was swiftly running out, and an apprehensive air began to descend on the mares and stallions of the C Party.
One unfortunate younger stallion, a blue unicorn by the name of Pokey Pierce who was wearing a pumpkin shell as a helmet which slightly impeded his vision, made the mistake of stepping on the corner of the party banner which the creative team had just completed, for which Ace had the guard ponies seize him by the legs and hurl him over the top of the barrier, which was followed by a muffled thud and a quiet “Ow.”
They had kept his pumpkin helmet, though -- noting his resourcefulness, a trio of pegasi began stockpiling weapons fashioned variously from wooden beams, pieces of the flagstone pavement, and even some of the less squashed vegetables from the stands. A few borrowed pieces of the barricade to repurpose as riot shields, and flew around the plaza assigning duties to the assembled ponies, forming haphazard ranks out of the ragtag band of rebels. One began a somewhat crooked salute, and the rest followed suit, some obliviously raising their left hoof at attention instead of their right.
What they lacked in formality they made up for in enthusiasm, despite the fact that none of them was quite sure what was going on. At one point the youngest member of the group, a turquoise pegasus filly who couldn’t have been more than seven years old, led the gathering in a spirited cheer, though she mistakenly substituted “cucumbers” for “carrots” during the mantra.
The only one who wasn’t having fun at this point was Ace, who was starting to feel a growing concern that the other ponies had misinterpreted the term “party” as the structure of their organization. Perhaps they didn’t think him a true leader. He needed to find a pony who could convince the assembly of the gravity of their situation before the whole movement fell to pieces, rendering all their work up to this point for naught. Certain that every one of them had the soul of a conscientious objector deep down, he knew he merely needed to provide a strong voice of reason to guide them in their noble quest.
Ace was a spokespony, but what they needed now was a leader. He needed a pony who could unite this motley crew of concerned citizens, one who could speak with enough power to give this organization the boldness it needed to win the day. Somepony willing to stand up for the cause, to show the world what liberty, independence, and lower carrot prices was all about.
Somepony like that yellow mare from before.
~~~
The very earth around the upside-down apple cart seemed to shake as Fluttershy heard solemn hoofsteps approaching her hiding place. She froze, mind racing. What happens if they find me? I don’t want any part of this!
The cart was lifted up over her head, away from her, and she squeaked as the harsh light of the midday sun burned her frightened eyes. Two large stallions, who had just noticed the apple cart while foraging for any remaining supplies, had moved it, revealing the terrified creature hiding within.
“Hey, you’re the mare who tried to buy those carrots!” one said to her, peering down at her balled-up form. “You did a great thing back there, ya know. I think Mr. What’s-his-name with the moustache was looking for you.”
“I...huh?” Fluttershy managed, dazed.
The two had already moved on, piling up other remaining supplies in the now-upright wagon. Somepony is looking for me? All at once Fluttershy wasn’t certain whether to find another place to hide or to proceed with her earlier plan.
She didn’t have to make the decision for herself, as more ponies spotted her from across the plaza and began to point, yammering excitably to one another. Instantly aware that she had once again become the center of attention, she froze, feeling helpless and slightly nauseated. To her immediate horror, the other ponies began approaching her, forming an animated circle around the pony who had inadvertently brought them all together that day.
A familiar moustached stallion emerged from the crowd, stopping immediately in front of Fluttershy, who let out a small “eep” before shrinking into a small yellow blob on the ground, pink mane partially covering her eyes.
“You...” Ace said.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped.
“...are the hero of this movement, this proud band of freedom fighters.” He lowered his head, narrowing his eyes and giving her a small smile.
“Freedom what?” She looked up, even more confused than before. She had assumed they were all just out to cause a big ruckus. What was he talking about now?
He continued. “As the defenders of the values that made our society great so many years ago, we need a strong leader to unite our people in our crusade for justice and liberty. Alone we may fall, but united we shall emerge victorious. This is why we need you, miss…”
“Flutter...shy?” she whispered reluctantly.
“Butterfly, we would be honored to have you, our shining example of defiance and strength, as the supreme leader of our movement. Will you join us in our honorable fight, and lead us mighty few and all who are willing to follow us to a more perfect Equestria? For us, will you be the people’s mare?”
All eyes turned directly on her once again, expectantly awaiting her response. The previously rambunctious crowd went deathly silent for what seemed like an eternity. Fluttershy, trembling under the pressure, tried in vain to avoid eye contact with the admiring assembly of rebels as they looked on quizzically. Ace, whose not-quite-genuine smile was becoming more strained with each passing second, extended a hoof to the immobilized mare. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.
“Um...I’d really rather not.”
The crowd instantly exploded in cheers and roaring cries of joy as Fluttershy, quite certain at this point that they hadn’t heard a single word she said, was lifted onto the shoulders of hundreds of rebels, all vigorously chanting “Butterfly” in unison. Marching toward the western barricade with the carrot flag waving high overhead, they readied themselves for the first attack on the outside world.
This was going to be an interesting day.
