The Mouse
"Oh, you poor thing! You must be so cold!"
The mouse's coat is brown and dirty, wet from the mid-autumn snow beginning to fall. Fluttershy chivvies him inside and sets him beside the fire. He shivers, rubbing his paws together. Two white mice, permanent residents of the cottage, come over and greet him. He cocks his head, frowning at their chittering.
Fluttershy trots to the kitchen and prepares a very small bowl of seeds and apple cubes. She brings it back and sets it beside the brown mouse, smiling down at him.
"Taing mhór, lass. Tha mi toilichte do choinneachadh," he says.
Fluttershy stares at the mouse uncertainly. "Um. Excuse me?"
"Thuirt mi, 'Tha mi toilichte ur coinneachadh.'"
Fluttershy feels tears forming in her eyes. She's always been able to understand animals. That's her special talent. But this poor little mouse—not only is he cold and wet, she can't understand a word he's saying. She feels sorry for him. And a little part of her worries that maybe she can't really talk to animals, she's been lying all these years, and that the truth is finally coming out.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Mouse. I don't understand what you're saying."
The mouse sighs. "Dinna fash yersel. Mae ma, she says ane leid is nivver eneuch. Dae ye onerstaun that?"
Fluttershy bites her lip. "Not... really? Maybe a little."
"Well thank ye. The winds be snell an' keen, an' mae auld hald is..." His voice catches, and he blows his nose against his paws.
Fluttershy tries her best to smile. It's her job to be helpful and encouraging, after all. And it's not really important if she understands, is it? As long as she can take care of her critter friends, that's what matters. "There, there, Mr. Mouse. Everything will be fine. Why don't you have some seeds?" She pushes the little bowl closer to him.
The mouse nods. "Ye keep the heid, lass. It's a lang road that's no goat a turnin'. Mae ma, 'Whit's fur ye'll no go past ye,' she says. It’s gaein be awricht ance the pain has gane awa'."
"That's... I'm sure that's true, Mr. Mouse." Fluttershy finds herself at a loss for words. Is this what other ponies feel like, if they try talking to animals? But all her friends talk to their pets, don't they? Fluttershy's eyes start to water again. Something must be wrong with her.
No. No! She has to be a good hostess! That's the most important thing now. She should... she should try to keep up her end of the conversation, even if she can barely understand her new friend.
Fluttershy forces another smile. "So Mr. Mouse, where are you from?"
"A'm fae the stibble-field near the burn. Dae ye ken it?"
Fluttershy is finding it harder and harder to keep her composure.
The mouse looks up from his bowl of seeds and sees the tears in her eyes. "Sairy, lass. A'm ourie oot thro', an' a cannae keep mae heid. Dae ya wan'—"
Fluttershy bursts out crying and runs upstairs. Behind her, she can hear the brown mouse telling his two white companions, "An' tae think, that farmer called mae a wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie."