Pinkie Pie was huddled up as close as she could possibly be against the tree that Rarity had enchanted with a magical, timberwolf-slaying trap. She was curled into a little ball and trying her absolute best not to start freaking out.
She had no way to tell time inside the forest, but she knew from the faint orange tint in the pale blue sky that ‘early-afternoon’ was quickly turning into ‘late-afternoon’.
And Rarity still hadn’t come back.
Pinkie wondered if she should go look for Rarity, but every time she thought that, she worried what if Rarity came back to this spot while Pinkie was out searching and then the two never found each other again and they spent the rest of their days wandering lost in the forest until they freeze or starve to death and their families and friends will be super sad and will be all her fault!
So she stayed put.
Through the growing winter chill, through the choking shadow of anxiety, through that faint orange tint seeming to be less and less ‘faint’ with every passing second.
She stayed put. Just like Rarity had asked her to.
Because Rarity promised she was coming back. And Rarity doesn’t break her promises.
But Pinkie Pie could deal with the fear and the cold. She didn’t like it—she absolutely, unequivocally, irrefutably hated it, as a matter of fact—but she could deal with it, for Rarity’s sake.
Until another thought crossed her mind.
What if she left you behind on purpose?
That was the straw that broke her back. That was the moment Pinkie went from ‘terrified ball of anxiety’ to ‘desperate, weeping husk of a pony’.
She couldn’t leave her spot because she promised Rarity she wouldn’t, but the longer she was left alone with her thoughts, the longer they became consumed by that one recurring idea.
What if she left you behind on purpose?
Rarity wouldn’t do that.
Would she?
No. Of course she wouldn’t.
Right?
Why wouldn’t she?
Who could ever care about someone as annoying, stupid, ugly and worthless as the stupid pink party pony, who was shivering in a ball in the frozen wilderness, left alone to die like she deserved.
“I’m sorry,” Pinkie whimpered through tears that she worried would start sticking to her face in the cold. “I’m sorry,” she repeated again, desperate for anypony to hear her, desperate for someone to tell her that this whole day had just been some kind of cruel prank on her.
Desperate for anyone to tell her that she wasn’t alone.
“Are you lost?”
Pinkie stood to her hooves faster than should have been physically possible, her head zipping around to find the source of that mysterious, ethereal voice, and her eyes widened in disbelief and her mouth hung open in awe when she laid her eyes on the speaker.
The woman’s body seemed to faintly glow with a supernatural light. She looked to be a young pegasus woman, maybe just a year older than Pinkie Pie herself, but tall and lanky—almost skeletal in her thin frame.
She had a waterfall of pink hair that flowed down her shoulders and behind her back, and combined with her pale yellow coat, it reminded Pinkie of strawberry-banana ice cream, one of her favorite flavor combos.
The woman’s wings were splayed open behind her and their massive span took Pinkie’s breath away. They were thin like the mare they belonged to, but they looked so strong and majestic, golden feathers adorning them and shining in the dim sunlight like priceless treasure.
But the thing that struck Pinkie the most, the thing that left her completely enraptured, were the mare’s eyes. Teal like a tropical sea, they glittered like magic in the sunlight, like a beacon that led Pinkie back to some sense of inner peace.
Pinkie knew right away that this was the Everfree Nymph that the Cakes had told her about! She was majestic and beautiful and regal and—
And rather awkward as she cleared her throat, shrinking into herself as she did so and making Pinkie realized she had just been standing there gawking like an ape and never actually answered the woman’s question.
“You’re really pretty!” Pinkie smiled a little too wide as she tried to pretend she wasn’t immediately embarrassed by the words that poured out of her mouth as soon as she opened it.
“Thanks,” the woman said with all the emotion of someone who had heard those exact words hundreds of times.
“I’m sorry,” Pinkie sighed and hung her head. “I’m having a bad day.”
Pinkie shook her head furiously, the mysterious nymph arching an eyebrow in response. Pinkie cleared her throat and puffed up her chest.
“I am lost as heck, actually!”
The woman giggled at Pinkie’s candor. “I can guide you out of the forest, if you’d like.”
“I can’t,” Pinkie replied immediately, a wave of sadness washing over her. “I need to wait for my friend Rarity. She’s somewhere in the forest too, fighting a t—”
“Timberwolf?” the ethereal maiden finished Pinkie’s sentence, and the little pink mare was awestruck once again.
“Are you a psychic?” she gasped.
“No,” the maiden said with a soft smile and a shake of her head, “but I found your friend. She is in my care.”
Pinkie’s eyes widened. Did that mean that Rarity was okay? Or in even more danger? Had Rarity made the spirits of the forest mad by hunting inside of it? Or maybe the timberwolves were endangering the forest somehow and Rarity did a good?
Pinkie just had so many questions and it was frustrating not to be able to get any answers! But then she realized that maybe all she had to do was ask.
“Is she okay?” Pinkie said calmly. “My friend, I mean.”
“She was in very bad shape when I found her,” the spirit said, “but she will recover. She just needs time. And I have no intention of letting her leave the forest until she gets better, and even less intention of letting her die here.”
Pinkie awkwardly stood in silence for a second and kicked sheepishly at the snow, twitching her fingers to stim and hopefully drown out some of her anxiety.
“Can I see her? Will you take me to her?” Pinkie bowed her head. “Please?”
Pinkie looked up to see the spirit blinking a few times before a serene smile crossed her face that felt to Pinkie like a refreshing summer breeze.
“Of course,” the spirit said with a curtsy. “Follow me.”
The spirit gently walked—no, she glided—along the ground, the snow melting around her hooves with every step. Her movements were dainty and dignified, and Pinkie swore she was somehow the coolest and cutest pony Pinkie’d ever seen in her life.
Pinkie followed dutifully behind the spirit, eager to see Rarity and see that she was okay, but something else was pressing on her mind at the same time; a question that only the spirit could answer, and if Pinkie didn’t ask it, the curiosity would burn a hole in her stomach for all eternity.
“So, what do spirits do for fun?”
“Pardon?” the spirit politely replied with a thin smile still on her face as she tilted her head in confusion.
“What do you do for fun?” Pinkie repeated, and then another question dawned on her. “Uh, you are the spirit of the Everfree… aren’t you? The one the folks of Ponyville talk about?”
“Are they calling me ‘the spirit’ now?” the maiden said with a giggle. “Last I heard, I was the ‘Everfree Nymph’. Not sure which I like better,” the spirit stroked her chin gently, a playful smirk on her face.
“Well, what is your name?” Pinkie asked, more excited to hear the answer than if a dozen cupcakes had been put in front of her to eat.
“Um, ‘the spirit’ is a good enough name, I suppose,” the spirit replied, and Pinkie’s ears flattened against her head to accompany her disappointed frown. “You asked me another question though, didn’t you?”
“Yeah!” Pinkie jumped up and grabbed a tree branch, swinging from it for a moment before jumping in front of the spirit and doing a spin. “What do you like to do for fun?”
“I watch over the forest,” the spirit walked past Pinkie with barely an acknowledgement of her presence, “that’s all.”
“Uhh, that’s it?” Pinkie asked. “No offense, but that sounds super boring! It sounds like work!”
“It’s my home,” the spirit said, “so I’m happy to do it.”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“Sometimes,” the spirit quickly cleared her throat, as if she hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but it was too late to deter Pinkie Pie now.
“Spirit of the Everfree!” Pinkie jumped in front of the spirit and pointed a finger at her, her other hand placed confidently on her hip. “I wanna be your friend!”
The spirit didn’t move or say anything for a moment, and Pinkie’s confident posture was beginning to feel more embarrassing than anything, finger still ‘proudly’ pointed at the spirit.
But then the spirit giggled, and she placed a hand on Pinkie’s head as she gently pushed her aside. “You’re cute. Come on, your friend is just up ahead.”
“I’m serious though!” Pinkie pleaded as she walked alongside the spirit, who only gave a sigh in response.
Pinkie wasn’t usually good at taking hints, but even she could see she wasn’t getting anywhere, and the last thing she wanted was to make the spirit uncomfortable, especially after she did so much to help Pinkie and Rarity.
“Can I at least bake you a cupcake?” Pinkie asked, hands in her coat pockets and idly kicking at the snow as she walked. “To say thank you for helping me and Rarity?”
“I—” the spirit paused, twirling a strand of pink hair around her finger, and Pinkie tried to not get excited. The spirit looked into the pale orange sky and gave another sigh, and Pinkie couldn’t help but think that she sounded super tired. How long had she been protecting the forest all alone?
“I wouldn’t mind that,” the spirit finally said, “I suppose.”
Pinkie squealed with delight and threw her arms around the spirit in a big hug. “You won’t be disappointed, spirit!” she soon realized what she was doing and her eyes widened as she backed away from the spirit as fast as she possibly could, bumping into a tree behind her. “Eh, sorry about that. Force of habit.”
The spirit traced her hands around her waist, where Pinkie’s arms had just been, and Pinkie found herself wondering how long it had been since anypony touched her, and then being horrified by the concept of living without hugs and smooches and high-fives and all the other amazing ways to show affection through touch.
The spirit continued walking in silence, and Pinkie walked behind her, stewing in a sinking feeling that she had screwed everything up again.
“What’s your name?” the spirit asked, her eyes still locked on the path ahead of her.
“I’m Pinkie Pie,” Pinkie answered nervously, though her anxiousness disappeared in a flash as the spirit turned around and gave her a charmed smile, and Pinkie couldn’t help beaming back at her.
“My name is Fluttershy,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”
“It’s my pleasure!” Pinkie said with a reserved smile; she was leaping for joy on the inside but she wanted to play it cool to respect her newfound hopefully-almost-friendship with the spir—with Fluttershy.
“So, um,” Fluttershy muttered, fingers idly playing with her long hair, “what do you like to do for fun?”
The reservation in Pinkie’s smile was gone and it beamed brighter than the setting sun as an explosion of cheer resonated inside Pinkie Pie. Fluttershy had no idea the floodgates she had just opened.