This submission was disqualified for reason: Submitted after deadline.
Hiding just out of their reach, she heard the sound of hoofs searching for her. She lay shrouded in the darkness of the forest. There was no doubt in her mind that they wanted to take her back, back to her father in Cloudsdale. She trembled. Her father would never understand; he would never permit it. Living on the ground is a disgrace, such a disgrace to a noble pegasus like her. She had heard it many times, but none of that mattered. She wanted to stay.
A chipmunk gently pulled pressed down against her hoof, looking for attention. She looked at it nervously and shook her head in a gentle way, so as not to make a sound. She wanted to watch her pursuers from a safe distance, and she definitely didn't want to be seen, but the chipmunk started pulling on her tail, like it wanted her to follow it.
“What is it?” she gently whispered to the chipmunk, but it just stared at her for a second, confused by the words, and then it pulled on her again. “No. Please stop.” But it didn't. Instead, a bird flew close to her and joined the chipmunk, yanking on her hair, pulling in the same direction. “What do you want?” she asked, trying to shoo the bird away.
“Who's there?” a thundering voice shouted in her direction. “Fluttershy?” She gasped and sat still, hoping that they would go away, but she could see them inching towards her, and she could hear their nostrils flaring. They have my scent, she thought.
The chipmunk bit down on her leg, and she let out a faint yelp. “Fluttershy!” she heard them shout in her direction.
Desperately, she turned towards the forest and ran, but her pursuers were right behind her. She had no chance. They're trained soldiers from the pegasus armed guard, and I'm just a little filly who can't even fly, she thought, but still she ran, hopeful that she could escape.
She had the advantage, being able to cut below branches with ease, but she could still hear their hoofs beating. She could still smell them, and that meant they could still smell her.
The woodland creatures followed her. They meant well, but they gave away her location. She ran, ran into the forest, into mist, and on all sides of her were small creatures, dozens on mice, chipmunks and squirrels. Above her were birds.
The mist grew stronger.
Her heart beat hard, and she couldn't continue running. She collapsed. Animals on all sides of her were panting too, too tired to defend her, and she could still hear the sound of hoofs, but strangely enough, the smell was different.
“Fluttershy?” She looking up, unable to comprehend what she saw.
Standing on two legs, its coarse and matted hair was furry and brown. Its hoofs made a strange echoing sound on grass, but that wasn't all that odd by comparison to the top half. It's top half was completely different, like it didn't fit. It was pale and hairless, with the exception of the head and face, like two different animals in one.
“La la la!” It skipped gayly around her while playing a flute.
“Who are you?” She asked, her eyes bulging, and her nose aching form the smell.
I took the flute out of my mouth. “I'm the writer of this story.” One of her eyebrows suddenly shot up.
“What happened to the ponies who were chasing me?” I stopped skipping.
“I'm bored... and out of time”
“I'm bored with this prompt.”
“I've tried. I really have tried, but I'm simply not a dark person who knows all about cutting ties. How the heck am I supposed to write about something I don't know?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Exactly. I was going to write all about this grand thing where you see me in the forest and you're all like 'whoa' and I'm all like 'yeah it's cool, right' and you're all like 'I can't stay here because I have evil parents', but you probably don't even have evil parents, do you?”
“Um,” she thought for a second in a cute way, “no.”
“Right. I mean, sure, they might be a little bit neglectful, letting a pegasus, who can't fly, live in the clouds and all, but it's just kind of weird trying to think up dark, evil pasts for ponies. 'Cutting ties'. Who the heck even came up with that anyway?” I sat down on a stump and sighed heavily.
“There, there, Mr. Writer.” She flew beside me and patted me on the back. “It's okay. You're not a bad writer, this just isn't your genre.”
“I'm positive. In fact,” she smiled brightly at me, “I thought the scene was really dramatic and intense.”
“Yeah?” I said in a hopeful tone. She nodded. “I wrote some really pretty scenery too. Look.” I snapped my fingers, and we were suddenly in a different part of the forest.
Sunlight poured onto a fine oak table, and all of the trees shimmered in the light, like they were drenched in morning dew. The surrounding area was covered with honeysuckle bushes and flowers, all of them coming up to about her chest, and a path lead to the table with grass that was warm to the touch.
“It's beautiful.” She flew up and twirled around the scenery, taking it all in.
“You don't think it was a little too... purple?”
“Yeah. It is. And the original story, man. It was just awful. This goat-human thing, that I'm supposed to be, was basically just a plot device.” I let out a puff of air in an attempt to laugh at myself. “I'm not really any different. I mean, all I am is this meta-character. I basically just failed at a self-insert.”
“Well,” she landed on my head, “all we have to do is develop your character a little, right?”
“I don't see how. I've already pretty much ruined the plot with my sloppy self-insert. I'm not even certain whose perspective we're in right now. Not to mention, there's no way we're accomplishing the prompt. It's not like-” I felt something warm and soft nuzzling the back of my neck, causing me flail wildly. “Fluttershy! What are you doing?”
“What's wrong?” she said, dawning her best bedroom eyes.
“What's wrong? What's wrong! For one, you're like four in this story! Not to mention the fact that you're a pony! I'm pretty sure cross species bestiality isn't allowed in the freaking write off.” I shoved my finger down my throat to signal my dislike.
“Well excuse me, princess. I didn't come up with this garbage!”
“Are you? I can't-You know what? Pinkie Pie is best pony. You and me are through.”