//------------------------------// // 9. Lost // Story: Lost and Found // by Cloudy Skies //------------------------------// Fluttershy awoke with a start. Her heart raced as a soft noise brought her out of the safety of her dreams and onto a hard stone floor. Whatever terror budded in her mind was dispelled the instant she peeked through the strands and snarls of her mane to find Applejack sitting on her haunches nearby. The farmpony was hunched over a book, licking her hoof before turning another page. She knew she’d been dreaming of wonderful things. Rather than nightmares of shadows and ghosts, she’d dreamt of all her friends, but it wasn’t the worst of fates to wake up when the waking world was no longer a nightmare in itself. It was easy to smile as she rose to sit. “Good morning?” Fluttershy asked as she glanced around. The room was large and windowless, lit up only by a cluster of crystals hanging from the roof by thin links of chain. Stone tables lined the walls with mortars, alembics and vials on some, crumbling stacks of books on others. On one of the walls, a narrow hallway led out and up. Nearby rested a thing that might once have been a door to fit in the gap, the metal twisted and covered in runes and symbols. When she tore her eyes off that odd and ominous sight, Fluttershy finally realized Applejack must have spoken. The farmpony looked over at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile as she crossed the distance between them. “I’m sorry, I think I missed that,” Fluttershy admitted as Applejack put her neck to hers and gave her a brief hug. “I just asked how you’re feeling, sugar,” Applejack said, bright green eyes shining with mirth. It was impossible not to giggle back at her. Whatever had happened had been terrifying, but now that it was over, and the relief made itself known as an inappropriate, silly giggle, and an infectious one at that. The second Fluttershy had made a noise, bringing a hoof up to cover her mouth, Applejack chuckled as well. They shared the laugh, and Fluttershy gave up trying to hold it back. She could feel the tears welling up, too, but she let them come. It was all she could do to wrap her hooves around Applejack again and bury her face in her mane until the giggles had turned into sobs, and the sobs into giggles again. When Applejack pulled back to look at her face, the tears were gone and Fluttershy was smiling so hard it hurt, her entire body shaking. “I’m confused,” Fluttershy managed, shaking her head. “A little scared, very happy, glad that you’re here, and, um, very confused,” she repeated, wiping her snout and letting out a final giggle. There was no sign of the shadowy menace now, only a dusty old room no more threatening than her chicken coop. “Well, might be I can help with that, for once,” Applejack offered, gesturing at the book she’d been reading before she walked over to sit in front of it. Fluttershy did the same, peering down at the neat rows of letters. “Notice anything?” Applejack asked, glancing over at her with a budding smirk. Fluttershy shrank back a little, put on the spot as she was, eyes roving over the words that by themselves told very little. All she could gather, skimming the text, was that it was an account of travel through a lush and beautiful valley, marvelling at the plant life— Her eyes widened as she suddenly understood the gravity of the find. “It’s in Equestrian. It’s in—I can understand it!” she exclaimed, gently reaching down to close the book and see what the cover read - except it had no title. The cover was blank. “They’re ‘fieldnotes’. Fancy talk for a diary, I reckon,” Applejack explained with a shake of her head. “I woke up a few hours ago. Guess that means the sun’s up, but I didn’t want to wake you. Didn’t want to go nowhere and leave you here, either.” “Thank you,” Fluttershy murmured, but she wilted under the stare Applejack directed her way once she’d spoken. “You saying you would’ve left me by myself if you’d gotten up first?” she asked, crossing her forelegs across her chest as she raised one brow. “No! Never, but—” “Exactly,” Applejack concluded with a nod, nudging the book back open though she was hardly even looking at it, focused on Fluttershy as she spoke. “Anyway, this here book was right outside the door, or whatever’s left of the door,” she said, gesturing to the warped sheet of metal that lay nearby. “Turns out, it’s written by some unicorn feller called Brighthoof. He left it here as a warning of sorts. Last few pages tell about that.” Fluttershy scratched a foreleg with the other and swallowed. She knew part of the answer, but it felt so distant, now. She glanced about the claustrophobic chamber again, but there was nothing, no shadows, no menaces, no fear and no anger. Only tables, books, dust and alchemy equipment. “A warning for who? Of what?” “Malices,” Applejack responded, patting the innocent little book. “That’s what he called’em. He found this room, which was their prison, and thought it was about to break, so he shored it up with magic best as he could and left the book. Says he read tomes around the fort here and found out that some other unicorn, Starwhorl or whatever—” “Starswirl the Bearded?” Fluttershy asked. “Yeah, that one, the one Twi’ keeps going on about,” came the reply with a dismissive hoof-wave. “Apparently, Starswirl made these things and locked’em up long ago. He knew about the windigoes before they came, but nopony was listening, so instead he tried to make those things to try to fight’em. They were supposed to turn emotions back on them or something. Turns out, fighting fire with fire ain’t always such a great idea.” She offered Fluttershy a bemused smile. “Anyway, he figured that there weren’t no ponies, hang on—” Applejack said, rapidly leafing through the pages. “Here it is. Ahem. ‘I doubt there are ponies so good or an act so pure as can banish the evil that Starswirl brought to life in his misguided attempt to warn or save the ancient tribes’, it says. ‘But in theory, an act that embodies all the virtues, elements, or whatever else one chooses to call those things that are good and pure, should undo the Malices as surely as water douses flame.’” Fluttershy smiled and looked away, and when Applejack tilted her head, the yellow mare couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Did I say something funny?” Applejack asked. “If so, I missed it.” “You just made a funny voice,” Fluttershy replied, trying to wipe the smile from her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you.” “I bet he spoke like that anyway,” Applejack grumped, her cheeks tinted with the faintest of reds. “I mean, come on, look at these words he’s using down here! This here’s some high-falootin’ fancy talk.” “It’s just a little old,” Fluttershy said, stifling another giggle, but her own words raised a question. “Wait, this was written in dated Equestrian, but how old is it? What’s in the other books?” she asked, rising to stand and approaching the closest table. Some of the books lay open, but she reached the obvious conclusion even as Applejack explained. “Those others don’t make sense to me, but I reckon this Brighthoof came from our Equestria. Maybe he could read’em, but I can’t. Still, we’re on the right track.” Applejack grinned. “I suppose so,” Fluttershy agreed, her hooves feeling light as air as she trotted back to rejoin Applejack. When the farmpony said nothing, she leaned down to read again the very words that Applejack had read aloud. Ponies so good or an act so pure as can banish— she read. The Malices, if that was what they were called, seemed distant now. She couldn’t fear the creatures themselves. What gnawed at her was different. “I didn’t feel very ‘pure’—” she began. “No.” Fluttershy blinked. Applejack didn’t look angry at all, but the word had been spoken with infinite weight. Her face was carefully neutral as she locked eyes with her. “I figured you’d say something like that, but don’t. We both said our piece, I think, and you saved us both,” she said with a shrug. “If you want to talk about it, I won’t close my ears, but don’t you dare apologize. I’ll do better, you see if I don’t,” she added with a frown. Fluttershy smiled and shook her head. “It wasn’t me, it was us,” she said. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but you don’t get to carry this on your back, too. Whatever it was we did exactly, it was both of us, it was our friendship that did it. I’m sure.” That got a smile out of Applejack. The powerfully built mare rose to stand and grinned as she stretched. “I would say ‘try and stop me’, but how ‘bout we leave it with a ‘fair enough’ and get moving, huh?” Applejack adjusted her hat as she led the pair towards the only way leading out of the chamber that the journal had called the malices’ prison. It was hard to decide which caused her the most joy; that Fluttershy was finally awake and that they could leave, or that she’d had her beloved hat with her when she awoke. “So, d’you remember anything of how we got here?” she asked, carefully stepping over the wrecked door and into a hallway that led to a steep stair. More of the crystals dangled from the roof. “No,” Fluttershy murmured. “I mean, not much, anyway. I remember coming inside a building, that’s all.” “Yeah, things got a bit fuzzy towards the end,” Applejack agreed. “And I feel about as good as I look.” Fluttershy seemed about to say something at that. No doubt some kind compliment or other, but Applejack just gave her what she hoped amounted to a gentle glare. The pegasus promptly shut her mouth and lifted a wing of her own, inspecting herself. Where Applejack had lost her mane- and tail-bands somewhere along the road, Fluttershy’s long and luxurious tail dragged, and her mane looked more like a pink bit of undergrowth than anything else. The twigs and dirt that speckled their hair and coats both was an afterthought. It was enough to make the decidedly rough-and-tumble earth mare think of the spa back home. “You look really nice with your mane out,” Fluttershy said with a demure smile and a wave of a hoof forestalling any further discussion. “But yes, I’m a little hungry too, I guess,” she said by way of agreement. “A little hungry?” Applejack replied with a sharp bark of laughter as they began ascending a set of stone stairs. “I could eat a hay bale, and I refuse to believe you ain’t ready to do the same.” Fluttershy blushed and nodded, spreading and furling her wings a few times in rapid succession, as if they wouldn’t lie right. “I wonder where our saddlebags are.” “Yup. We’ll need to find food and water soon. There was snow up in the mountains, so might be...” Applejack said, her voice trailing off as the stairs opened up into a chamber not much bigger than the first, but what it lacked in size, it made up for with content. The place was crowded with bookshelves. Every wall and every inch of space available was stacked with shelves full of tomes with the exception of two doors, a single desk, and barely enough space to walk on without having one’s flanks scrape the books. “Well, that explains it,” Applejack muttered. Fluttershy made an inquisitive noise at her side as she walked over to the crowded desk, upon which papers and tomes were stacked along with dried out inkwells. “The journal thinger said that this unicorn feller of ours read Starswirl’s books, but it don’t make a lot of sense for him to have read the books inside the room he was tryin’ to keep shut, does it? Bet these belong to Starswirl too,” Applejack commented, straining her neck as she followed the closest bookshelf up to where it met with the ceiling. It was easy to imagine that the old and sagging wood was trying to pierce through the stone to make room for more books. “Twilight would’ve liked it here,” Applejack added with a grin. “What else did the book say?” Fluttershy asked. “And, um, for how long did I actually sleep?” “Oh it weren’t much else. Said he’d read that Starswirl figured the windigoes were real, and that they roosted nearby, so when ponies started arguin’, when the whole attempt to work together went downhill faster’n a cornfield in a stampede, he tried to use some fancy new magic that the tribes were only just coming to understand. Brighthoof was headin’ up the mountain to try to learn more, find something called the ‘Sun Chamber’. Apparently the unicorns had their castles up there, and he was looking for something.” “Oh,” Fluttershy said, her ears drooping. “Yeah,” Applejack sighed. “Rest of it was just about this valley. Wasn’t his first journal, so it said nothin’ about where he came from. This valley used to be a nice place. Guess those shadow thingers fixed that right quick when they got out. That, and when he opened the outer door to the keep here, he broke some sort of spell that kept the place preserved somehow.” “I don’t know a lot about magic, but I guess that’s why this place still stands,” Fluttershy said, gesturing to the room at large. “It could be worse. After so long, I mean.” “Still don’t exactly expect we’ll find us any hayfries or daisyburgers anywhere ‘round here,” Applejack countered with a wan smile. “Probably not,” Fluttershy giggled. “I wish we could bring a book or two with us.” “Yeah. And maybe we’ll find something fancy for Rarity too,” Applejack said, the thought souring even as she spoke it. “Except we ain’t got a clue in the world where we’re going.” “Nothing in the book at all?” Fluttershy asked, pawing at the ground, her hoof swinging listlessly like a dejected pendulum. “You can go have a look if you like—” Applejack began. “No, I trust you,” Fluttershy said. “Well, if Brighthoof went up the mountain, maybe he left other clues that’ll tell us where to go, right?” “Up the mountain and towards the old unicorn tribe’s home, that’s the only place we know for sure is the wrong way,” Applejack said. “Likely, Equestria’s the other way. Look at it like this, sugar. One single unicorn managed to travel all the way here? That likely means we can get back, too. We’re doing good!” Fluttershy nodded along with each and every one of her words, but seemed hesitant still. As she spoke, she walked over to a nearby wooden door, nudging it open with her head. “But there are so many other ways,” she cautioned. “We know one wrong way that could offer us clues, but there are so many ways out of this valley.” “All I remember are the northern and the eastern passes, couldn’t see much more. Could be they meet up and head in the same direction anyway,” Applejack muttered. She was neither afraid of heights nor did she doubt Fluttershy’s words, but willfully going the wrong way rubbed her, well, the wrong way. Fluttershy ducked back out from the doorway and furrowed her brow, licking her lips as she gave her a long look. “Well, um, okay, but they might not,” she tried. “And besides, we don’t know if the road that led us here got us closer at all.” “And how d’you reckon that’s the case?” Applejack asked, sitting down on her rump. “The road, um, it disappeared? And besides, if the ponies migrated after the snow started to fall, there’s no telling if they left tracks, so we might have gone the wrong way ever since we got here.” Applejack drew breath and let it out slowly, puffing out her cheeks. Fluttershy was looking straight at her, those big blue eyes unwavering even if the pegasus’ body language spoke volumes. Her wings were half spread and she was drawn back a smidgen. She expected Applejack to insist, she realized. Fluttershy was expecting Applejack to overrule her, yet hoping she wouldn’t, and that realization hurt. Applejack knew that she could be a mite stubborn at times, but it was a buck to the gut all the same. She nodded and looked away. “You’re right,” Applejack said, and the words were almost liberating, not nearly half as hard to say as she’d dreaded. “I... am?” Fluttershy said, a question more than anything. “We’d be wandering blind. Going the wrong way now’s better than going off in some random direction if it’ll gain us something, ain’t it?” “Yes,” Fluttershy said, smiling softly. “I have a hankering for getting home before my family forgets who I am,” Applejack added, regretting her choice of words right away. Suddenly, her hooves itched with the desire to be moving. “Enough about that. Let’s try one of the doors.” Fluttershy poked yet another of the almost universally creaky doors open, the ornate woodwork reluctantly yielding to her hoof’s touch. After having poked their snouts inside countless similar rooms, her hopes weren’t particularly high. “Anything?” Applejack called from further down the hall. Fluttershy hung her head and wings all as the door swung open to reveal yet another of the simple rooms containing only a dilapidated and rotting bed, a desk, and precious little else. “No, sorry,” she replied. “I guess we should just head up the biggest hallway where the doors were open.” “Wasn’t a complete loss, thanks to you,” Applejack said as she trotted down the stone hallway to rejoin her. The yellowing cloth of the makeshift cloak that Fluttershy had made for her rested over her flank, and the empty pouches the match of her own hung at the farmpony’s side. “It isn’t very hard to make a saddlebag of a pillowcase, or a cloak of a bedsheet,” Fluttershy murmured and looked away. “Sure ain’t, but it’s a great idea,” Applejack chuckled. “Ain’t much else for us to do here but get out. Book didn’t say, but I figure they didn’t do much except live here, save for that Starswirl pony. Seems more like a monastery or something than a proper fortress. It’s all bedrooms and empty halls.” Nodding at that, Fluttershy eagerly followed Applejack down the hallway and through the labyrinthine depths of the keep. As they walked, Applejack kept glancing up at the crystals that hung overhead. Indeed, the only real feature of the windowless and dour stone halls was that every ten or fifteen paces, a cluster of the same blue-white crystals hung from the ceiling, light growing as they drew near, and dimming as they left. “I wish we could bring one of those things with us,” Applejack said, and not for the first time. The very first thing she had suggested when they began exploring the hallways a while ago was to pry loose one of those crystals. When Fluttershy had finally flown up to try to knock a crystal free from the delicate chains that looped around the crystal shards, they had discovered that the second the crystals were loosened from their cages and perches, they became inert and lightless. Fluttershy spared the ceiling’s luminescent little inhabitants another mournful glance. It didn’t take the two ponies long to find their way back to the central room that connected all the little habitat-filled hallways. They had found the core of the underground section of the keep quickly, though it was hardly a cheery chamber. Here, the architects of the underground area hadn’t even bothered covering up the fact that the place was essentially hewn straight from the rock. From the large and featureless room led many equally anonymous tunnels, and they had visited most of them. All of them, in fact, except one. It was towards this one that Applejack now strode, a visible spring in her step as she mounted the stairs towards the large, open doors that led to yet another windowless tunnel. “Well, this is a step up,” Applejack murmured, and Fluttershy herself slowed down as well as they entered the rather short tunnel. To either side of the wide and low hallway hung tapestries with still-legible motifs, and while there were more of the omnipresent crystals here, natural light streamed in from the other end. At the mouth of the tunnel, a soggy heap of grasses lay, doubtless the remains of their supplies.          “I guess we came through here,” Fluttershy said, stopping and touching a hoof to the frayed tapestries closest to them as the crystal overhead glowed brighter. The colors of the ancient clothwork were still vibrant, and as with the standing stones they had looked upon weeks ago, these too told a tale. “Another history lesson, huh?” Applejack chuckled, but she was quick to take up position next to Fluttershy to look upon the first of the tapestries. Fluttershy, for her part, was reluctant to let go of the delicate fabric.         “This isn’t silk. I have no idea what this material even is, but this is amazing,” Fluttershy whispered. Applejack made a noncommittal noise at her side, leaning in closer. “More of the alicorns,” Applejack said. “I don’t think there was just three of them like the stones showed.” Fluttershy tilted her head and glanced over at her, but the farmpony’s reply was a gesture at the tapestry where two alicorns were stood on a stylized castle flying a blank flag. Below, an earth pony, a unicorn and a pegasus were facing each other, all rearing up on their hind legs, hooves raised to strike. At the bottom of the cloth, multiple lines of letters were sewed, but they made no sense to the pegasus. “Um, how do you figure?” Fluttershy asked, tilting her head at the cloth that hung before the two of them. “I am not sure what this is supposed to mean, the alicorns turning away the other ponies?” “If it was important that they were three, wouldn’ they have shown all three alicorns here?” Applejack asked, shrugging. “An’ it’s not like they’re trying to give them special colors, either. I wasn’t sure earlier, but look here, one’s white and the other blue, but on the next one down there—” she motioned to the next tapestry down the hall. “It’s a yellow and a red one. Probably wasn’t just five ponies when whatever happened, happened. The two here probably just means ‘many’.” Fluttershy nodded, thought about that for a second, then nodded again. When Applejack put it like that, it of course made sense, and it was hard to imagine why she hadn’t thought of it herself. Fluttershy smiled as she flapped her wings to sail over to the next set of tapestries. The notion that some ponies thought her farmpony friend stupid or slow was almost laughable; she was the last pony who would ever miss the forest for the trees. “So there are many alicorns,” Fluttershy said with a final glance at that first tapestry. “And they left the other ponies? I mean, since the tapestries hang here, maybe that means they took the fortress from them, but why?” “Well, this don’t clear it up at least,” Applejack hummed as she sidled up to Fluttershy again. “I don’t understand,” Fluttershy said, shaking her head. The alicorns in the next tapestry were huddled around a large candle circled by six symbols that they had seen before. Star, triangle and so forth; the Elements of Harmony. The light that filtered in from nearby seemed to make these six little symbols glimmer in what she hoped was reflected sunlight, and the dust danced in the air before her eyes. “The Elements and the alicorns are connected, then,” Applejack muttered, stealing a glance down the hall. “Just two more of these curtains.” “Tapestries,” Fluttershy corrected her, giggling despite herself, but it was a short-lived burst of mirth. The next scene was similar to the last, except the Elements were far above the heads of the alicorns, who, for their part, lay supine next to a weaker and smaller candle. In the air between the Elements and the alicorns were shapes that were different yet still familiar in the higher detail of the tapestry. “The windigoes again,” Applejack growled. “I guess the play didn’t do their mischief justice at all.” “The alicorns were weakening before the windigoes showed up, though,” Fluttershy said, feeling a little colder just for looking at the painstakingly woven menaces. The sapphire-blue eyes of the monsters seemed to be staring right back at her, and she wished she could go back to believing it was just a fairytale or a story that had been embellished upon in the years since its first telling. Instead, it felt like the opposite was true. Here was a truth far more grim than the old play. Fluttershy turned to look at Applejack, the orange mare pensively quiet. “Um, or—or so I think,” she hastily amended. “Hmh?” Applejack voiced, shaking her head briskly. “Oh, nothin’ like that, sugar, you’re probably right, I’m just wondering. Something’s missing, ain’t it. A lot is, matter of fact.” “Well, um, I guess this is the story of the alicorns?” Fluttershy suggested as they walked side by side to the last of the tapestries. “Just like the stones showed the story of the earth ponies?” “Except they weren’t their own tribe,” Applejack retorted, knocking her hat back on her head and shaking her mane. “Just one more thing that’s off about the story.” Fluttershy nodded at that, biting her lower lip as she thought. “We ain’t seen what the other tribes have to say on this yet,” Applejack grumbled. “Makes me wish I had that Brighthoof feller’s other journals, now. Bet he read these things and could make sense of it. Looks like this was the end of the road for them all the same.” Part of Fluttershy didn’t want to look. At Applejack’s words, spoken with a glance at the last piece of this particular story, the stoic mare’s face fell. The scene depicted was of the fortress on the first tapestry, flag broken, windigoes flying high above and alicorns at rest with their eyes closed. Fluttershy swallowed, a lump travelling down her throat with painful slowness. She reached out with a hoof, but touch told her nothing that her eyes did not; this tapestry was far less detailed, sloppy, almost. It had been made in a hurry, and unlike the others, this one did not have a matching, mirrored companion on the other side of the hall. “And here’s the rest.” Fluttershy blinked to clear her eyes. Applejack stood close by, poking at a mass of rotting cloth in a corner by the doorless portal leading up and out of the tunnel. “Other tapestries, but there ain’t much room for them here,” Applejack said, giving them another poke. She was rewarded with a brittle rustle and a puff of dust. “Might be they hung here long ago, and somepony took’em down. Ain’t no matter. Won’t get much out of them now.” Before she could think of a reply, Fluttershy’s stomach answered for her and changed the topic by letting out a long, mournful rumble. The butter-colored mare hung her head and would have blushed, but there was precious little room for modesty these days. “D’you hear that?” Applejack asked. “Sorry,” Fluttershy muttered. “No, not that. Come on, sugarcube!” Applejack chortled, neatly stepping over the ruined remains of their old supplies, the soggy and dusty grass hardly appetizing. The earth pony mare’s ears were perked up, and she moved with purpose. Fluttershy trotted after her without hesitation, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds before they left behind the last of the underground tunnels to mount a semicircular, wide stair into a large room that Fluttershy finally did recognize. The stairs deposited them on the ground floor of a large chamber that made up the majority of the fortress’ surface area. Stone columns supported wooden galleries overhead, and just as she remembered it, benches covered every bit of space, all pointing to a central table. A thin layer of dust covered the entire scene before them, but the benches and table were all bare—it wasn’t what had drawn them out. Overhead, the once dusty glass dome was coming alive, brilliant light all the colors of the rainbow streaming in as the sunlight filtered in through glass washed clean by what Applejack no doubt had heard; rain. The pitter-patter of light rainfall could be heard through the main doors nearby. The soft yet welcome sound intermingled with their hoofsteps as Fluttershy and Applejack tentatively picked their way through the benches and towards the wide doors that led out. “Of course it ain’t no fortress,” Applejack muttered as they walked. “Glass? Doors like this? This ain’t a place built for fightin’.” “I wouldn’t really know,” Fluttershy admitted, casting a backwards glance at the multicolored glass dome where it cast upon the room a full rainbow spectrum of colors. She swallowed, trying to distract her brain from what she associated with that sight. “I mean, I guess the tribes met here, but we don’t know if the tribes ever fought, do we? I’ve never seen a real fortress,” she quickly added. “I saw one of Equestria’s border forts, once. They’re nothin’ like this, is all,” Applejack said. “But it’s pointless thinking about that now. Not much else to find here. I say we eat.” Those last words were spoken while Applejack stepped outside, her grin as wide as the outer doors she threw fully open. Outside, rain was falling, and the sun shone down through the light cloud layer upon a valley come to life. Where the place had been dry and dead the last time they looked upon it, water was pooling and plants were pushing through the soil even as they watched. Before their very eyes, the grey wasteland began turning brown and green. Applejack quickly trotted out to stand outside on the small cliffy perch next to the descending path, while Fluttershy paused at the threshold. Her wings were flared and her ears flat to her head as she poked her snout outside. “It ain’t dangerous,” Applejack laughed, putting a hoof to her hat as she peered skywards, her grin relentless. “Did—did we do this?” Fluttershy whispered, eyes wide. Applejack opened her mouth only to close it again without a single word spoken, frowning now. The silence held until her coat was well and truly soaked, and only when the rain ran off the brim of her hat like out of the gutter did she seem to find her voice again. “Guess so. Book doesn’t go into detail, but if the Malices had done this all, I suppose we un-did it.” “I never thought we could do anything like this,” Fluttershy said, slowly stepping outside. The rain felt good against her coat and mane, and it was impossible to resist the urge to open her mouth to catch a few raindrops. Being hungry was one thing, but standing in the rain with a dry and parched throat felt silly. “Wasn’t just us, was it?” Applejack’s voice came from her side as Fluttershy took in the valley below. She could see plants emerge. Colors blooming. “Kept thinking of home. Of all our friends.” Fluttershy nodded and swallowed. She knew where her own thoughts had wandered, and she wondered if Applejack had noticed. When she glanced over at the orange mare, Applejack’s smile was full of understanding. Of patience. “We should probably see if we can eat any of this,” Fluttershy said, earning a nod from her friend. It was mean to ignore her like that, but she feared that if she took one more step without eating something, she’d fall over. Whatever magic they had unleashed to make the valley bloom, the result was easier to appreciate than it was to understand. Grass and flowers both grew in ample amounts, with saplings poking up from suddenly fertile soil that ran wet with rain. Fluttershy noticed that the clouds were behaving weird; such bright and light little things probably shouldn’t be able to carry that much water, but she wasn’t much of a weatherpony anyway. The clouds did not seem to care either way. Once they’d made it down to the shadow of the cliff upon which the fortress rested, they drank deep from the pools gathering there, and they filled their saddlebags and bellies both with the flora that seemed edible, having to remind each other to pace their eating more than once. Hours later, the valley was barely recognizable. Suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to believe that this was the place Brighthoof had described. Trees, bushes, flowers and grass all carpeted the valley’s floor in green speckled with other colors. When the novelty of the rain had long since worn off, the two bedraggled ponies sought refuge under the boughs of a tree that was barely thrice their height. The branches were poor protection, but it was better than nothing. With the rampant growth continuing, they were rapidly losing sight of the winding paths past the fortress that led into the foothills of the impossibly steep white and grey mountains beyond. “I guess that’s where we’re heading next,” Applejack murmured, planting her rump on the ground as she gestured towards the wall-like mountains ahead. She let out a small belch as she patted her belly, and a small pardon followed soon after. Fluttershy nodded quietly as she curled up. The mad rush, the prancing and the giggling was well and truly over by now, and while they had a direction—something like a purpose—her thoughts kept pulling her back rather than forwards. There was something left unsaid still, even after so many nibbles and pokes at the topic. She could see that Applejack knew and thought about it too, the farmpony shooting her these little glances. After a minute’s worth of silence, Applejack puffed out her cheeks. “Maybe we should just wait here for daybreak. We ain’t gonna get anywhere fast, and I ain’t much feeling like moving on right now. I think—” “The letter,” Fluttershy blurted, the words wrenched from her in a rude interruption that made her cover her mouth with a hoof. Applejack’s muzzle shut with a little clack before she shook her head and looked away. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said, simple as that. Except it wasn’t at all simple. It was convoluted and terrible yet laughably silly, and for the second time in her life, Fluttershy wanted to make an attempt at sharing it with another. While she didn’t at all believe speaking of it would change anything, she’d be a poor friend indeed if she couldn’t speak of it to Applejack after they had been through so much. Especially not when it had all been because of exactly that one piece of paper, accidental as though it may all have been. Of course, part of her already wished she’d never said anything, that she could have back the delicious sleepy haze that followed their eating frenzy instead of this dreadful melancholy that now settled upon her, but it was now or never. “It was from my parents, I think I told you that,” Fluttershy began, rolling over on her side. Applejack gave her a small nod and moved to sit by her head, running her hooves through her mane. They’d let their grooming slip, and Applejack wasted no time in setting about to fix that, comb or no comb. “That, an’ it’s related to Rainbow Dash somehow,” Applejack agreed with a nod. “I don’t think I told you that,” Fluttershy said, her cheeks heating up.          “You said something like it,” Applejack said, matter-of-factly, between picking twigs and such out of her mane. “Saw you drawing her cutie mark in the dust one night, too, and you were whispering her name in your sleep last night. Mostly, though, you ain’t denying it.” Fluttershy stared off into the blue sky of the horizon. The evening sun shone bright and pure, no longer tainted by the pall that had once covered the valley, but its light waned as it slowly descended towards the mountains. She gave an absent-minded nod as she collected her thoughts, but it was Applejack who spoke. “Just start at the beginning if you want,” she said. “We got time, and I sure a hay ain’t gonna judge. You and Rainbow go way back, I know that much.” Fluttershy nodded again. Comb or no comb, the way Applejack was tending to her with slow strokes of her hooves her felt ever so nice. Soon after, the earth mare leaned down to work her teeth through her mane, too. Fluttershy had never before been on the receiving end of a proper earth pony grooming, and she had half a mind to just let herself go, close her eyes and sleep; to take with her the memories that budded and go back a decade or more in her dreams. Instead, she opened her mouth and forced herself to speak them. “We met at flight school, like I told you before,” she began, rolling over onto her back, relishing in the soft soil beneath. She looked past Applejack, past the little tree’s branches and to the light cloud layer above. The rain-bearing clouds became Cloudsdale, and she looked up at the grinning face of her very first friend. “I didn’t know her at all, but she came out of the blue one day soon after I had started flight school. She didn’t even know me, but she rescued me from some bullies and taught them a lesson. It wasn’t the first time I got teased, and it wasn’t the last, either, but after that, it was different. There was a lot of chaos after the race, but once we found each other later, when everything went back to normal, we did everything together.” “Never saw how the two of you got to be so close,” Applejack hummed. “I mean, no offense, and I know you’re great pals and all that, but—” “No, I know,” Fluttershy replied, smiling as she lowered her eyes for a second. “We’re different, but she didn’t have a lot of friends either, I think, and she always looked out for me. I think she scared the other ponies.” “Annoyed, more like,” Applejack chuckled, but Fluttershy elected not to comment. Perhaps there was a grain of truth to it. She’d never thought about it. Never had to think about it. After their first meeting, it had been the two of them, and though it was a bumpy ride, it was hard to imagine it ever being any different. “Sorry. I’ll keep my trap shut,” Applejack murmured. “It still wasn’t, um, well. I still didn’t have the best of times at flight school, but with a friend, it was okay. My parents didn’t really like her, and they wanted me to finish flight school because I wasn’t a very strong flier. Most pegasi finish, you know.” “But not Rainbow Dash, huh?” Applejack asked, a grin tugging at her lips as she leaned forward to nip a twig out of Fluttershy’s mane. “No,” Fluttershy muttered. “Flight school wasn’t for her. She quit at the beginning of the final year. She wanted more excitement, and some ponies in the Weather Service offered her a job in Ponyville.” Applejack stopped her ministrations at that, those large and friendly green eyes marred by the faintest of frowns as she stared down at her, trapping Fluttershy there. “Wait. You followed her, just like that? ‘Cause you fancied her?” “Sort of, I think. I don’t know what I—I mean, we were both young, and all I knew was that I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, of her leaving me,” Fluttershy managed. Even speaking the words felt like another stab in that same wound. “I always knew I wanted to live on the ground, ever since my first time down there, but we were very young.” “Bet your parents didn’t like that one bit,” Applejack said. “It still don’t explain the letter, tho, I’m sorry to say.” “It does, actually,” Fluttershy sighed. “And you’re right. They didn’t, um, like it, no. I told them I was going to be with Rainbow Dash no matter what they said, and we had a fight. I thought they hated me, but I left with Rainbow Dash to live in Ponyville.” “Hating you?” Applejack snorted. “Ain’t no parent can hate their children.” “And they didn’t,” Fluttershy said with a wan smile, peering up at the sky through the branches once again. It was getting harder and harder to find the white and blue amidst the green. “They sent me a letter soon afterwards saying they hoped that I was happy with Rainbow Dash, and that they loved me no matter what choices I made, but that they were disappointed, too. Dad really wanted me to take a more, um, traditional job. They wanted me to come home, to finish flight school.” “Except you never told Rainbow Dash how you feel.” Applejack puffed out her cheeks and lay down next to Fluttershy, shaking her head. It was impossible to know what went on in the mind of the famously straightforward element of honesty, but Fluttershy imagined she heard sympathy in her voice, not judgment. “No,” Fluttershy whispered. “I don’t think I knew what I felt back then myself. I just knew I couldn’t lose her. She was the first friend I’ve made, but I have other friends now, too. After I made other friends, I realized she’s, um, different,” she continued, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Other memories flooded her mind, pulled her back; hours spent watching Rainbow Dash practice, reminiscing about their flight school days; every moment a partial lie. “I don’t see my parents as often now. We still talk and send letters, I visit now and then, but they think we’re—” she said, the words clumping up in her throat. “They think—” Fluttershy tried again, but nothing came. There was a rustle of movement at her side as Applejack glanced over at her before looking away again and sighing. “Every time you hear from them,” Applejack murmured. “It makes you think of that, huh? Can’t imagine what it’s like living with that.” It was all Fluttershy could do to nod. If she opened her mouth, it would be to cry, and that would get her nowhere. She shut her eyes and let out a shuddering breath through her nose. “So your parents up in Cloudsdale think you’re together with Rainbow Dash, but they care for you all the same, right?” Fluttershy nodded again. It was the simple truth, of course. If she couldn’t trust their words, the way they’d sent the bits to help set up her cottage had spoken volumes. “And Rainbow Dash knows nothing about any of this?” Fluttershy shook her head. “So that’s what it all comes down to? You can’t look’em in the eye ‘cause you haven’t told her? Then why don’t you just tell Rainbow Dash?” Fluttershy was up on all fours in an instant, her heart pounding. “I can’t!” she cried. “I mean, she doesn’t feel the same!” Applejack raised a brow, slowly rolling over and sitting up. “You don’t know that. Hay, she doesn’t, I reckon. I don’t think Rainbow Dash thinks things through unless she has to, half the time. T’aint about her being stupid or nothing, it’s just how she works. You should know that better’n anypony.” “Look, I know she talks to her mom once’n awhile, and they’re all chummy. Rainbow met your parents, but she never asked how they felt about you leaving?” Applejack asked. “Well, um, no,” Fluttershy admitted, glancing about and scuffing the dirt with a hoof. “Exactly, and you don’t hold that against her, do you?” Applejack pressed. “No, never!” Fluttershy said. “I—because—” she sighed, already seeing where this was going. It was a little bit like uprooting a particularly nasty weed in her garden and realizing exactly how deep the roots went. “Because you never told her, and you can’t blame somepony for what they don’t know,” Applejack finished for her, the weight of those words sending Fluttershy back to sit on the ground. “It doesn’t matter,” Fluttershy muttered, hanging her head. Usually, that all too practiced little maneuver rewarded her with a curtain of hair to hide behind, but her drenched mane offered no such succor. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not strong enough.” Applejack tilted her head and, in a rather demonstrative gesture, spat. “You don’t believe that even for a second, and I’ll thank you never to say it again. You’re stronger’n anypony I know.” The stoic earth pony mare was staring at her in a way that brooked no argument, and whatever it was that Fluttershy wanted to reply with evaporated as surely as dew before the sun, leaving her brain all but empty. “Can—can we please talk about something else?” she asked, re-furling her wings. For a second she feared Applejack would protest. Long seconds passed before her expression slowly melted and her ears were pinned to the back of her head, leaving a rather embarrassed farmpony. “Sorry, sugar, I just don’t like—naw. Okay, let’s leave it, then,” she murmured. Fluttershy moved over to give Applejack a brief hug, doing her very best to push the thoughts, questions and the conflicting answers to the back of her mind. At some point, she had traded hopes and dreams for recent memories of the moments she’d shared with Rainbow Dash. Perhaps this meant she was strong—or perhaps it meant it was too late. Either way, she couldn’t take much more of it right now; in fact, she caught herself almost hoping they didn’t find their way back home. If she had to face Rainbow Dash now, she had no idea what she would say. “It ain’t much of a slumber party, but it’ll do,” Applejack announced. Fluttershy blinked, whisked away from her thoughts and back to the present where Applejack had gathered some grasses for makeshift beds and neatly folded their still-damp bedsheet cloaks as pillows. While the rain was still falling, she had felt none of it for a while now. The tree that was their refuge had kept growing, and only now seemed to be slowing a bit, the pine tree’s branches warding off the rain as surely as a proper roof. “All we need is a fireplace,” Fluttershy said, and a smile followed. “Just as well we don’t have one. I’m fresh outta marshmallows,” Applejack countered as she sat down on one of the little beds, Fluttershy following soon after. “I don’t think I’d like marshmallows, s’mores or even a cupcake right now,” Fluttershy admitted, hoping very much Pinkie Pie would never learn she’d said such a terrible thing. “I would be really happy just for some nuts or an apple.” Applejack let out a long sigh that seemed to echo from the deepest recesses of her being and lay down flat on her belly. “Yep. Sure could go for an apple right now,” she murmured, staring off into the distance. “Good night, Fluttershy.” It hadn’t been a very long day for the pair. It was barely afternoon, yet it was strangely easy for Fluttershy to lay down and close her eyes. The soft rustling and dripping of the forest felt safe and snug, but more than that, it felt good to have her secret out in the open. It wasn’t much of a change; it felt more akin to setting a splint on one of her little animal friends and taking solace in the knowledge that things would be better. She had her friend back. She had herself back, too, and in time, she would have to think on Applejack’s words. She didn’t know what she needed to say, do or even be to keep Applejack from being angry with her when it came to that topic, but first, she would sleep. Barely had she closed her eyes when she felt the rush of air under her wings. As she slipped into her dream, she smiled. The sky wasn’t hers. When she dreamt of that endless blue expanse, she knew she wouldn’t be alone.