A soft sunlight wakes me up early the next morning. No wake-up call? Maybe I should just go back to sleep, see how long it takes her to come and get me. There’s a chance she’d just forget about me for the day.
No, I shouldn’t do that. It would just make it that much harder to wake up early tomorrow. Instead I stretch, kick off my sheet, and pry open my eyes. Even still, I wind up staring at the ceiling for a few minutes before I can finally push myself off the sofa.
Pinkie’s manning the counter again this morning, but it’s so early that the lobby is still empty. “Is the store even open yet?” I yawn out as I walk up to her. “Or are you just getting in the headspace.”
Pinkie laughs, already full of cheer. I swear, one day I need to see this pony yawn. It’s just not natural to have this much energy. “Mornin, Tarts,” she says in her usual bubbly tone.
“Tarts?” I ask with a skeptical look.
“”Yeah, just tryin it out,” she replies. “Everyone always just calls you Strawberry, so I wanted to shake things up.” Suddenly she pops up, her eyes going wide. “Hey, wait a minute, you don’t have amnesia! What’s your real name?”
I walk over and lean on the other side of the counter from her. “Why would I need a name?” I ask her. “I don’t usually spend any time in a unique form like this.”
Pinkie huffs. “Well no wonder you don’t know anything about yourself, you’ve never been you!”
“I know plenty about who I am,” I tell her, “and who I am is not Strawberry Tart.”
“Well, it is now,” Pinkie says, sticking her tongue out at me. Then she breaks into a giggle fit that lasts far too long. “You’ll see,” she tells me after catching her breath. “I mean, c’mon, can you really tell me you didn’t enjoy seeing Fluttershy happy after yesterday?”
“I mean, sure, I guess it was alright,” I say, “but my usual stuff is a heck of a lot easier. Safer, too.”
“Sure, cuz you totally didn’t hurt yourself doin it this time,” she says.
“This was a fluke,” I protest.
“A fluke that messed you up!” she says. “How can you be sure it’ll just go away? What if you can’t tune out the pain you cause anymore?”
“Then I’ll be a broken monster,” I tell her. “But still a monster.”
“A monster that made Fluttershy smile yesterday,” Pinkie says. “If you ask me, I’d say the scary monsters are the broken ones.”
“That’s only because you don’t know about them,” I tell her. “I’ve seen enough to know the truth.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” Pinkie says with a huff.
“Look,” I say, “Even helping Fluttershy yesterday ended up putting her in danger.”
“What? Fluttershy’s fine,” Pinkie says. “She can handle this stuff.”
“She said it’s new to her,” I respond. “She doesn’t know enough about it to not get hurt.”
“You sound like you’re worried about her,” Pinkie says with a grin.
“I mean, of course I am,” I say. “I hurt ponies, but I don’t want them to die.”
Pinkie leans forward, her smile devious, and pokes me in the forehead. “Go help her then, smartypants.”
“What?” I ask. “I thought you wanted to keep an eye on me. Is this some kind of trap?”
Pinkie hops up off the counter and starts fishing around behind it. “It’s about time to send her the sweets she likes anyway,” she says, ignoring my confusion. “She eats em pretty slow, but with the stress I bet she tore right through those macarons. You can deliver the fresh ones!”
Pinkie loads me up with a heavy bag of sweets and sends me on my way, apparently intent on me going to help Fluttershy. Did she plan this before I even woke up, I wonder? The cookies were already made up. I can never tell how much of what this girl does is intentional.
“Good luck, Tarts!” Pinkie yells after me as I walk out the door.
Walking through the streets, I contemplate leaving Ponyville. Nobody would notice until at least tomorrow I’m sure. By then I could be anywhere, they would never find me. But still, I would never be able to live peacefully, constantly worried about attracting their attention. Stay or go, I won’t be able to go back to my normal life either way.
Would Pinkie really tell the others about me? It’s hard to say. She seems too kind to do that, but she also seems extremely invested in this. Is that investment enough that she would tell her friends just to get me back? She easily could. It’s too big a risk to take.
Still, the thoughts bounce around my head until I reach Fluttershy’s house. As I walk up, I feel the air around me heating up. It seems things are already going poorly. I walk up quickly and knock loud. Hopefully there’s at least no fire.
A very frazzled Fluttershy opens the door to greet me. Her mane is a mess, her fur covered in scorch marks, her legs bandaged. She’s bone dry too, clearly dehydrated. Yet at the same time, she seems… happy. Exhausted, but none of the depressed tiredness she carried yesterday. She grins wide when she sees me.
“Oh, hello Strawberry Tart.” Fluttershy says. “It’s so nice to see you again. Thank you again for your help yesterday. Is there, um, is there something you need?”
I point at the bag of cookies. “Pinkie sent me with a delivery,” I tell her.
“The macarons?” Fluttershy says. “It seems a bit early. I hope I didn’t lose track of the days… Oh! Sorry, Strawberry, why don’t you come inside? We can taste the fresh ones together.” She smiles again, and floats back inside.
Inside her house is a sauna. The heat is overpowering, enough to make even breathing difficult. Signs of pets are littered about, cages and toys and such, but the animals are nowhere to be seen. They’ve probably been moved to somewhere with less heat. And in the corner of the room is a massive glass tank, the salamander snoozing inside on crudely assembled sand and stones.
The rest of the house is mostly what I expected, although a bit more cluttered. A bookshelf is loosely piled with huge encyclopedias. Nothing compared to Twilight’s collection, but still enough to be impressive. The furniture is all rustic and well-used, covered in damage that has since been repaired. The walls are lined with knick-knacks and photos of animals, all sorts of memorabilia. It’s all very cozy.
Fluttershy leads me into her kitchen, which seems to double as her dining room, and I sit at a small wooden table. Fluttershy zips around, gathering dishes and such to set the table, whistling quietly to herself. Floral placemats, candle lighting, she spares no expense on the display. It’s all very excessive for just some cookies, but it does look nice.
“You need to feed it some ice chips,” I tell Fluttershy as she joins me at the table.
“What?” she asks, confused.
“The salamander,” I explain. “Ice chips will stop it from making things so hot.”
“Oh, really?” Fluttershy says, her eyes widening. “Incredible. But, um, would that hurt him?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “The heat isn’t for their sake, it’s to weaken prey.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” she replies, absentmindedly biting into a cookie as she thinks. “Just wonderful. Do you know anything else about him? Oh, um, if that’s okay.”
“Well, you’ll want to get Rarity over quick,” I tell her. “Or maybe even Applejack. It’ll turn that sand into glass if you let it. It needs some kind of gravel that it can’t melt.”
“Interesting,” Fluttershy mumbles to herself as she floats into the kitchen and gets a notepad. I eat a cookie as she returns. It’s a bit too sweet. “What does he eat?” she asks as she sits back down and starts scribbling notes.
“Pretty much anything,” I reply. “Flowers, insects, animals, ponies, rocks. It’s a monster, it doesn’t need nutrients. Just matter.”
She nods along as she listens to me. “Thank you,” she says, “this will help so much.”
“You seem a bit overwhelmed,” I say as she finishes her notes. “Are you sure you should be doing this?”
“Well, you’re right, it is a lot,” she says, looking down at her plate. “Especially the learning process, but… Well, it’s what I like to do. You can’t, um… You have to be kind to yourself. Sometimes, being kind to yourself means learning to enjoy things that are hard, so that you can be happy.” She looks back up at me as she finishes, smiling sweetly.
“But what’s the point of being happy if the thing kills you?” I ask.
“I know how you feel,” Fluttershy replies. “I’ve spent a lot of time running away from things. I still do, a lot. But eventually you’re just, um, running from your whole life. I’m not sure that living like that is really living at all. It’s just… surviving.”
I frown. “Even if you believe all that,” I say, “monsters are too far. Taking in monsters is a good way to get yourself, like, petrified, or eaten, or mind controlled.”
Fluttershy hums in thought. Things go quiet for a bit, only the sound of us chewing on sweets. Eventually, she speaks up, saying “How do you know so much about monsters? Have you seen them before? Um, if that’s alright to ask.”
“Yeah, I-” I stop myself. I almost forgot about the amnesia story. “I, uh, I guess I must have. Before I lost my memory.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry, I forgot about that,” Fluttershy says, covering her mouth in embarrassment. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine, really,” I say. I try to muster up a smile to be reassuring, which seems to work, at least enough for her to relax slightly.
“But, um, it is interesting,” she continues. “I wonder where you learned something like that. Have you had any other things like that crop up?”
“Uhh, not really,” I say. “This is the first time I think.”
Fluttershy looks down, deep in thought. “What kind of pony could you have been?” she mutters. “You keep pointing out that it’s a monster, maybe you worked with monsters?”
She’s thinking about this too much, she might find holes in my logic. I need to lead her to an answer quick. “What, like a researcher?” I ask. “Do monster researchers even exist?”
“Not really,” Fluttershy mumbles to herself. Dang it, that seemed like a safe bet. She goes deeper into her thoughts, muttering things under her breath that I can’t make out and closing her eyes as she focuses.
“Uhh, maybe I like, hunted them?” I offer nervously. She doesn’t respond, just gives a soft hum and continues to think. I can see her face going through a litany of emotions, none of which tell me anything. What is she thinking? What conclusions could she possibly come to based just on me knowing about monsters?
Just as I’m about to make another anxious attempt to steer her to a conclusion, Fluttershy’s eyes pop open. She gasps and leaps into the air, knocking her chair over and covering her mouth in shock. “Y-y-y” she stammers out, not finding words. It’s agonizing, my mind racing to figure out what she knows. “Y-you’re… you’re a shapeshifter!” she finally shouts.
“Wha-” I nearly choke. What the heck!? I try to get up and trip over my chair, falling backwards onto the floor. “What are you talking about, Fluttershy?” I manage to spurt out.
She points at me with a frantic look on her face. “I-it’s so obvious,” she says. “You’re the right size, the right demeanor, scared of monsters… You showed up, and then… Oh, my.”
This is very, very bad. With everything I did to her, I have no idea what the adrenaline spike from this could cause. I push myself backwards along the floor, away from her. “Fluttershy, listen, you have to stay calm,” I plead. “I stopped, Pinkie made me stop, please at least go talk to her.”
Fluttershy lunges out of the air at me. I close my eyes and brace myself, the wind getting knocked out of me as she pins me down. My heart races as I wait for the inevitable to come, but it never does. Eventually, I pry my eyes open and see her, face to face with me, and she’s… smiling? She’s smiling at me.
Then, before I can process what’s happening, she gives me a hug.
I stare at her, baffled, as she floats back into the air. She squeals, like she can’t get her words out, and then finally shouts out “It wasn’t me!” and spins around in midair.
“Huh?” is the only response I can give.
She flies up close to me again. “It wasn’t me!” she repeats. “You’re a shapeshifter, which means you were behind the mean stuff, which means I didn’t do it! Oh, this is such a relief.” She sighs and lands, sitting down on the floor beside me.
“Are you not… mad?” I mutter, still wary.
“You said Pinkie stopped you,” she explains. “If Pinkie already knows, then there’s no reason for me to be mad too.” She smiles at me, calm and sweet.
I push myself into a more comfortable position and sigh. This is exhausting. “How the heck did you figure it out?” I ask.
“You just look like one,” she says. “It’s obvious if you know what to look for. Um, sorry, I hope that wasn’t rude. I didn’t mean you look scary or anything, you look fine. I mean, you look good. Or, um-”
“Please don’t tell any of your friends,” I say, cutting her off.
“They’ll have to find out eventually,” she tells me. “They’ll never be able to forgive you if you don’t stop lying.”
“Well, Pinkie thinks she can turn me good,” I say. “I’m sure if that happens I’ll tell them myself.”
Fluttershy thinks to herself for a moment. “Okay,” she says, “I’ll keep your secret, on one condition.”
Ugh. “What?” I ask.
She grins. The same grin as when she caught the salamander. “Well,” she says, “I’ve never met a shapeshifter before. Let me learn more about you! Um, please.”
“Well, there’s not much to know,” I say. “But sure, ask away.”
She claps and hops up from the floor. “Hooray! Okay, um, turn into me,” she commands.
“What?” I ask. “Why do I have to do that?”
“It’s the best way to see how you work,” she says. “I can notice differences from my own body.”
“But wouldn’t that be, like… weird?” I ask.
“I see myself all the time,” she says. “Please? I would really really appreciate it.” She frowns, begging me with her expression, almost desperate looking.
Dang it. I can’t stand looking at her like that. “Fine,” I say, standing up. Her face lights up as I change myself to look like her. It’s just as awkward as I expected it to be, but she seems unaffected by it.
Fluttershy is all over me right away, poking and prodding. Measuring proportions, stretching out my wings, making notes the whole time. She really does get utterly engrossed in this stuff. I wonder if she even slept last night.
She points out countless discrepancies I never would have noticed. One wing should be slightly shorter, there’s too much muscle mass, I made her face too symmetrical. A slight sheen in the eyes that she says all shapeshifters have. She may not know how to be safe around monsters, but she sure knows how to identify them.
The whole time she’s doing this, she’s quizzing me at the same time. How I operate, what it feels like, how often I sleep. Her curiosity is endless, enough so that I begin to worry I’ll be stuck here being experimented on forever.
“I’ll get in trouble with Pinkie if you keep me all night,” I say to her eventually. Mostly because my legs had begun to ache from standing still.
Fluttershy gasps. “Oh no, I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “I always forget how focused I can get. Sorry, um, we can stop. Thank you, also. This was very kind of you. And, um, sorry.”
“It’s okay, Fluttershy,” I tell her, smiling again. “I just figured I shouldn’t take up your whole day. It has been a… surprisingly nice visit, though.”
“Oh, um, wait, before you go,” she says, “I just, um… would you like some tea?”
“Sure,” I tell her, “I could do that.”
She grins. “Okay, um, why don’t you go get comfortable in the living room, and I’ll be right out with the tea, okay?”
She floats into the kitchen and busies herself, so I take her advice and head into the other room. The salamander tracks my movement as I walk in, but it seems docile. For now, at least. The coziness of this place washes over me again. The clutter makes it feel lived in. I’d love to visit when it’s at a normal temperature.
I pick the shallowest chair in the room and take a seat. It’s nice and relaxing after standing still for Fluttershy for so long. Really, what an incredible fervor. I can’t imagine she gets many chances to exercise it. Maybe I won’t change back into my regular look just yet. She’ll probably get a kick out of sharing tea with herself, and it’s not like it’s any extra effort on my part. I’ve long since gotten over the awkwardness.
A few minutes later Fluttershy comes out and gives me a steaming cup of tea, and then sits in the closest seat with her own. She seems to have calmed down, but the smile hasn’t faded from her face. “So, um, you said Pinkie is helping you?” she asks as she blows on her drink.
“I guess,” I tell her. “Not that it’ll work. I mean, you know about monsters. I can no sooner stop hurting others than that salamander can stop spitting fire.” The salamander flicks its tongue out, as if to emphasize my point.
Fluttershy hums in thought, sipping quietly. I sip my own tea while she thinks. It’s nothing special, but it’s nice. Certainly pleasant enough to drink idly while talking. Which is, I suppose, the point.
“Well,” she says after a bit, “you’re right that I can’t stop him from spitting fire. But I can help him realize what the fire does, and set him up to find better ways to spit it. At least, that’s how I feel.”
I think for a minute. She’s certainly more thoughtful than Pinkie. No less naive, though. “Have you ever done it before?” I ask her. “Made a monster less dangerous?”
“Mm-hm,” she replies, not even hesitating. My eyes go wide in shock. “I wish I had more experience, though. They really are very different from regular animals.”
“There’s no way,” I say in disbelief. “Are you sure they weren’t just dangerous animals?”
She shakes her head. “I’m in those woods a lot, you know,” she says. “Spend enough time there and you’re bound to run into a basilisk or two. I try to make sure they can be good for the forest. When I can, at least.” She sighs.
“How are you alive?” I ask.
She laughs softly. “In my experience, none of them actually want to be causing harm,” she says. “They just need somepony to help them instead of running away.”
“You know, Pinkie was right,” I tell her. “If I’d known you better, I never would have tried to imitate you. It’s just not believable.”
Fluttershy laughs again. “I don’t know, Strawberry,” she says, smiling at me. “From what I heard, I think you actually did a pretty good job acting like me.”
Our conversation ends up lasting until well after dark, which Fluttershy apologizes profusely for as I leave, but I walk away with a smile.