"Animals aren’t allowed near my cottage if they’re going to cause trouble. It’s one of my rules."
“Unusual dreams?” Rarity asked. She tilted her head at my question. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“You’re sure?” I asked. It was a week after Discord’s unusual visit to my library, and Rarity and I were having overpriced drinks on the patio of the new Ponyville Starbucks. I wasn’t a big fan, but Rarity had insisted, and apparently it was a popular spot because approximately half the population of Ponyville was standing in a long line that extended out the door, around the patio and down the block. At least the weather was nice.
My dreams hadn’t changed, or at least not that I’d noticed. But my dreams were always fragments, confused images and scenarios that resisted my attempts to remember. I wasn’t sure Discord could do much to make them any more chaotic.
But Rarity? I knew Rarity. Sophisticated, worldly, driven Rarity. Her dreams must be as exquisite as her fashion designs, as florid as her imagination. I could see her dreaming of a prince still, of white castles and smartly dressed servants out of a storybook tale that began with the first sight of her lover, proceeded through a whirlwind courtship and ended with them together in bed. A fine, rich clay for Discord to spoil.
“I’m certainly sure,” she said. “Except for the other night.”
My ears perked up. “Oh?”
“Well, I don’t normally dream about work. I think I must just get too much of it during the day. But that night, Twilight? I dreamed of a butterfly. The most beautiful butterfly you’ve ever seen, as large as I was and flowing with feathers and colors and lace. It felt so real I could touch it, and then I did touch it, Twilight! And when I touched it it wrapped its wings around me in the softest embrace you can imagine, and it transformed into the most beautiful dress, a sleek chiffon drape with little iridescent scales all down the back. Why, it was so beautiful I had to leap out of bed and write it all down before I could forget!”
“Not a bad dream, then.”
“Oh no. Quite the opposite. As soon as I woke I started drawing out the fabric patterns, and once we finish with our coffee I’ll go back to my boutique and put patterns to cloth.”
“Okay.” I rotated my paper teacup so the seapony logo on the side was facing the same direction as the logo on Rarity’s cup. “Does that happen often?”
“What, dreaming?”
“Dreaming about a new design with enough clarity to translate it into a real dress.”
“Oh.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose not. This might be the first time, actually.”
“So, it was unusual.”
“Posh.” Rarity waved a hoof. “All dreams are unusual, Twilight. That’s like picking a single pony out of a crowd and declaring ‘How unusual! Of all the ponies in this crowd, here is the only stallion with a chestnut coat and cinnamon mane!’” She gestured with her hoof as she spoke, and I turned to see an earth pony stallion matching that description sitting across the room, fiddling with a steaming paper cup while the mare beside him rested her head on his shoulder.
When I turned back, she continued. “You would say that about any pony you picked, wouldn’t you? We’re all identically unique.”
I frowned. “So you’ve had an unusual dream, but that’s not unusual?”
“Precisely. Now, what has you asking about such an odd topic? On a sunny summer afternoon, no less?”
“Discord visited me the other day. Said he was thinking of getting involved in ponies’ dreams.” I took a sip of my latte. The chai’s cinnamon and cloves overwhelmed the more subtle tea flavors in the drink, to the point I could barely tell it was tea at all, rather than just hot spiced milk. “I wrote Luna a letter, but she didn’t seem too concerned. She wrote back that dreams were an ancient magic that not even Discord could defile.”
“Well, she would know, wouldn’t she?”
“She knows dreams, yes, but she doesn’t know Discord as well as we do.” It occurred to me as I spoke that I could be wrong about that too – Luna may have been gone for a thousand years, but before that she had helped lock the trickster spirit in stone. You didn’t petrify people without getting to know them at least a little bit.
“I think you’re concerned about nothing,” Rarity said. She finished her espresso and set it on the table, dabbed at her lips with her napkin, then folded it into a ball and stuffed it into the empty cup. Around us, a few of the standing patrons edged closer to our table, sensing that we were preparing to abandon it. “My dreams are fine, nopony appears to be driven mad by chaotic nighttime visions. Look around, darling. Do these ponies seem like they’ve been having trouble sleeping?”
I didn’t answer. She was right enough – the crowd was filled with smiles and easy conversations. If anything, ponies looked more animated than usual. Buzzing with life. Hardly the stuff of horrors. But then, we were in a coffee shop. Perhaps it was all the caffeine.
“I just worry, you know?”
Rarity sighed. “Mares are allowed to worry, but don’t worry too much. It causes wrinkles.”
“Right, right.” I looked around. The patio was slowly filling with standing ponies, lounging by the short wrought iron fence separating the establishment from the sidewalk or by the napkin dispenser. Hawk-like eyes scanned from table to table, searching for any sign of an opening. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Rarity clasped her saddlebags and straightened her sunhat. She picked up both our cups with her magic. Around us, ponies drifted closer. “On three.”
I nodded and began a mental count. At three, we both stood and bolted for the trash bins. Behind us, the scrum of seatless patrons collapsed on our little table, dozens of ponies vying for two spots in the world’s most heartless version of musical chairs.
* * *
The woods outside town sang as I walked through them. Sparrows and larks and chickadees harmonized with buzzing cicadas and clicking ashborer beetles, filling the trees with a chorus that grew louder with each step down the dirt path away from Ponyville. Only when the wind picked up and nature’s tiny musicians huddled against their perches to resist it and the rush of the leaves rose to a crescendo did the song fade for a few heartbeats.
Everything about the day seemed brighter. Happy, the way early summer ought to be. For a moment my fears felt so groundless that I half-resolved to abandon these silly questions and just return to the castle and take a book out on the balcony to read while I pony-watched in the sun. But then I remembered Discord’s leering smile, and that was enough to push me forward.
The elms that bordered the path opened as I entered a meadow. Young, green, swaying sawgrass replaced the trees, tickling my sides and belly. I cast a quick anti-tick spell just to be safe.
Finally, over hills and a small stream, I reached my destination. Fluttershy’s cottage was a living thing itself, a mound of earthen walls all thatched with growing grass. A dozen painted birdhouses and batboxes jutted from the eaves, and a swarm of jewels buzzed around a bright red feeder filled with sugar water. Hummingbirds, claiming an easy meal. They darted around me as I approached, a few of the braver males daring to alight on the tips of my ears before zipping away.
I sat and knocked on her door. After a minute with no answer, I knocked again.
Still nothing. Huh. I stood and walked around the corner to one of the windows. I didn’t think of myself as a nosy pony, but it wasn’t like Fluttershy not to answer her door, and I hadn’t seen her in town. The window was open, and the insides were dark. I heard the faint rustling of tiny clawed feet scuttering about.
I was about to call for her when something cheeped beside me. I jumped and maybe let out a little eek of surprise, but when I turned it was just a black-capped oriole, perched on the fence rail. It cheeped again, pointed at the sky with its beak, then took off in a flutter, vanishing up past the roof. I stepped away from the window and peered after it.
Ah, and there she was. Fluttershy lay on the highest point of the cottage, half-sunk into the soft grass roof. Her wings splayed out on either side to catch the sun, and a dozen birds lounged with her, perched in her mane or preening her feathers with their tiny beaks. She saw me, gave a little wave, then held her hoof up to her lips in the universal gesture for silence.
Okay, I could do that. I beat my wings gently, slowly rising up the side of the cottage, using my hooves to help haul me up as quietly as possible. The birds made way for me as I reached the top, and I settled in beside her, careful not to tread on her wings.
She leaned over to nuzzle my cheek. Her mane smelled of fresh sweat and wildflowers. “Hello Twilight,” she whispered.
“Hi,” I whispered back. I settled down beside her. The grass was cool and pleasantly scratchy on my belly. “Why are we whispering?”
“I don’t want to scare my new friend.” She motioned with her muzzle toward the woods just beyond the meadow encircling her cottage. Past them lay the Everfree Forest, a dark green shadow on the world. “She’s a little nervous around ponies.”
Ah. Some new animal, then. I peered into the woods. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure yet. She’s not ready to show herself. Or himself. But I think it’s a her and she’s lonely.”
“Is it safe?”
Fluttershy nodded slowly, so as not to unbalance the family of goldfinches perched in her mane. “Of course. Animals aren’t allowed near my cottage if they’re going to cause trouble. It’s one of my rules.”
“Rules?” I glanced back and forth between her, the woods, and the birds preening her mane. “I don’t think animals follow rules, Fluttershy.”
“They follow mine.” She gave me a little smile, and as though that settled the matter, we fell back into silence.
The wind teased my feathers, a nice cool counterpoint to the warming sun. A bold blue jay bounded closer to me, and after a bit of encouragement from Fluttershy, he hopped up onto my hoof. I held still, barely breathing, afraid that any movement would startle him into flight. As large as he was, he barely felt like anything, as insubstantial as air. I could have lifted a thousand of him.
Something touched my shoulder. I turned my head as slowly as possible and saw a tiny gray tufted titmouse making its way to the root of my wing. It poked at the fluffy covert feathers, then began walking out toward the longer primaries.
Another something landed on the tip of my horn. I peered up, cross-eyed, and a dark-eyed junco peered back. I gave my head a little shake to dislodge it, and it flap-jumped into my mane.
Fluttershy giggled. “I think they like you.”
“Heh, really? That’s great.” I felt a silly smile stretching out my face. It was more than great – it was elating. A pure, simple happiness grew inside me as more and more birds grew braver and joined their friends on my wings and back. So many little lives, trusting me. But... “They’re not going to poop on me, will they?”
Fluttershy shrugged. “They’re birds, Twilight. It washes out.”
Oh. Well, we’d faced worse. I settled into a comfortable position, wings splayed out like Fluttershy’s, and resolved to enjoy myself. Neither of us spoke for a while, but our friendship was old and deep enough that we had no need to fill the silence. We were comfortable doing nothing with each other. Like resting in the spa’s hot tub with Rarity, letting the heat seep into our bones and melt away the stress. So it was with the sun and the wind and the birdsong. All the while Fluttershy gazed into the forest, into the verdant shadows between the trees. Her eyes tracked something I could not see.
Comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe. At some point I drifted off, lulling in that between state where daydreams become a bit more like actual dreams, and the anchor with the present unmoors itself from the world, and my cartwheeling thoughts contested with reality. On the roof, still, with Fluttershy, still, but lost in the margins of sleep.
A cold drop of rain between my shoulderblades shocked me back to life. My whole body jerked, and dozens of wings flapped as birds evacuated their perch. Fluttershy glanced over at me, smiled a little smile, then turned her attention back to the woods.
It took a minute to get my muzzy thoughts back in order. Pieces slowly fell back into place. I pulled my wings back to cover my barrel from the stray droplets falling from a low cloud being pushed across the sky by a phalanx of pegasi. A few waved down at us as they passed.
“Welcome back,” Fluttershy whispered.
“Thanks.” I blushed. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Sometimes I like to nap up here. Better than a cloud, I think.”
“Yeah.” I could see that. Even after years with wings, I still felt a little nervous on clouds. They were so wispy and insubstantial, and the drop beneath them so long. Better a nice, solid perch like this.
My little nap did something else – it reminded me of why I came. “Hey, Fluttershy?”
“Hm?”
“Have you had any unusual dreams, lately? Like, did they feel different?”
She tilted her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Just… something Discord said to me. I don’t know if he’s trying to cause trouble or just being himself, but he mentioned dreams, and, well, you know.”
“Mhm.” Fluttershy’s eyes shifted from the woods off to the side, as though she were searching for something new. “Would you like me to have a chat with him?”
“Not yet. Whatever he’s doing, it doesn’t seem to have bothered anypony. Or maybe he just forgot.”
“I doubt it. He’s not as scatterbrained as ponies think. They see how he acts and assume that he must be addled, because only an addled pony would act like that. But he’s not a pony. He’s something very different from us.”
“But at least he’s reformed now.”
She shook her head. “He has friends now. That’s more important. What does ‘being reformed’ even mean?”
“Well, you know… he’s like Starlight and Trixie.”
“Don’t they both have friends now?”
Er. Huh. I didn’t have an answer. From the smile she gave me, Fluttershy wasn’t expecting one.
She stretched and carefully rose to her hooves. She kept her wings extended, a platform for the dozens of songbirds still roosting in her feathers. They slowly roused themselves and took to the air, and when the last was gone she folded her wings back to her side.
“I think it’s going to rain soon. We should go inside.”
“Yeah.” I looked up at the sky. Hundreds more clouds had moved in, each pushed by a lone pegasus. Together they began to crowd out the sun. “Supposed to drizzle today.”
“The farmers will appreciate that. And I’ll let you know if I have any odd dreams. But I wouldn’t expect anything from me, Twilight. My dreams are always boring. I barely even remember them.”
We hopped off the roof together and floated to the ground. Far off, the air rumbled with thunder. I was going to have to race back to my castle, it seemed. The pitter-patter of fat drops hitting the dry dirt joined the rush of the wind.
“Really?” I asked. “They’re never weird? My dreams always are.”
She propped the cottage door open and stood in the entrance. Dozens of critters crawled or walked or flew through the windows, seeking shelter from the coming storm. “Only when I’m sleeping with somepony.”
I forgot how to walk for a moment and almost tripped. “What? I mean, uh…” My face burned. “You mean, like, sleeping with somepony, or sleeping with somepony?”
“We’re talking about dreams, Twilight. What do you think?”
“Oh, right. Haha, of course.” My blush deepened. There was a bit of grass from the roof twined with the coat over my chest, and I picked at it rather than meet her eyes. “Sorry, sorry. Just a little, uh, unexpected—”
She cut my rambling off with a chaste nuzzle and giggled. “You should hurry if you want to get home before it starts showering, Twilight. Unless you want to spend a few more hours here.”
That was tempting, but I had more errands to run, and things to do that couldn’t be done from Fluttershy’s cottage. “Right. Right. Hey, uh, thank you for the afternoon! It was really nice.”
“It was for me too.” Fluttershy bent down and picked up a plump pheasant that was having trouble getting up the stairs to her cottage. “You’re always welcome to join me here.”
I turned and started to walk away. After a few steps I stopped. “Wait. What about that new animal you were looking for? Will it be okay out here?”
Fluttershy paused. She’d almost closed the door, and she leaned out of it to peer at the woods. After a moment she nodded.
“She’ll be fine. Animals don’t mind getting a bit wet.”
Right. I gave her a final nod and turned back to the path. After a few steps I stretched my wings and began to fly the rest of the way.
Animals might not mind the rain, but I did.
"Animals aren’t allowed near my cottage if they’re going to cause trouble. It’s one of my rules."