It smelled familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. It was a pleasant smell, something flowery, and Futtershy had definitely smelled it before, but her memory refused to be jogged.
It was probably just a perfume of some sort that somepony had worn in her presence before. It couldn’t possibly matter.
Fluttershy only realized Twilight had been talking after she stopped. She had no idea how to respond, so she nodded and said yes.
Twilight furrowed her brow. “Really? I wouldn’t have thought you were the kind of pony to approve of that sort of thing.”
It must not have been an appropriate response. Fluttershy noticed she had some trouble breathing. She took a moment to collect herself. She could be honest with Twilight. It would be fine.
“Sorry, I’m a little out of it,” Fluttershy said. “I had a hard time following what was going on.”
And Twilight gave her the look. That well meaning, patronizing look. “Goodness,” the look said, “I certainly feel sorry for you. Is there anything I can do to make it better? I’m certain I can help with whatever it is.”
If Fluttershy took her up on the offer, then Twilight would laser focus on one thing and miss the bigger picture. Like that time Fluttershy had forgotten to check on her tomatoes and they had been eaten by beetles. The entire thing put her on the verge of tears, because she felt responsible for the plant’s life. Yet, if she had caught the beetles in time, she didn’t know how to shoo them away without killing them. Surely, they deserved to eat, and with a delicious plant right in front of them, how could she blame them for devouring it?
She imagined herself finding the beetles, biting coin-sized holes out of the leaves, and just standing there, completely unsure of what to do. She would think of how awful the act of eating was, how the only way she could ever keep down food was to not think about it.
She liked to imagine death was an intrusion into life, something separate that lurked in the shadows and struck where it didn’t belong. But all life was built on death. Everything alive existed only because of the dead. They were one and the same.
Twilight paid her a visit around that time, and quickly figured out something was bothering her. She encouraged Fluttershy to explain herself. In trying to do so, Fluttershy mentioned that sometimes she couldn’t make herself eat because food tasted so horrible to her. Twilight lectured her on proper nutrition, and took it upon herself to help Fluttershy discover her favorite food. She didn’t have to heart to tell Twilight that wasn’t the problem. Besides, her friend only wanted to help. Why not let her?
So they spent the week cooking together. It was fun if she didn’t think about it too much. After it was over, Fluttershy had not discovered her favorite food, but she let Twilight think it had worked. A good friend is supportive of their friend’s efforts to be supportive. What kind of monster would she be to admit it had all been a waste of time?
Fluttershy tried not to talk about her problems with Twilight after that. She didn’t talk about them with anyone, really. Whenever tasked with putting her feelings into words, she always messed it up. She couldn’t help saying something wrong, turning her emotions into lies. She couldn’t find a way to make anyone else understand.
So when she saw the expression on Twilight’s face, she let out a sigh. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe it would finally work. She imagined herself buying a lottery ticket. She knew she would lose, but there was a chance she could win. Even though she would lose. But she might win. But she would lose. But...
No, she wouldn’t talk about it. The weather was so nice, the day so beautiful. She wouldn’t be the rain that ruined it all. She’d talk about something else instead.
“Did you notice that smell?” Fluttershy asked.
Twilight took a sniff. “Smells like fresh air to me.”
It was true. A pleasant breeze picked up, and the air tasted cool and ripe. Still, a hint of the scent remained. It was artificial, she realized. Like a fruit flavored lollipop, it only vaguely resembled the real thing. Fluttershy closed her eyes, trying to piece it together. Lavender? Sandalwood? Maybe citrus of some kind? No, those were all wrong.
“It’s like…” Fluttershy said. She trailed off, and hoped Twilight would forget she started to speak in the first place.
“It’s like what?” she asked.
Damn.
“It’s like... candy, or something.”
“Candy?”
And just like that Fluttershy knew it wasn’t candy. It had never been candy, it had been ridiculous to call it candy. She only said so for lack of the right word. It would only confuse matters more.
“No, not candy,” she said, “but something like it.”
Fluttershy could tell Twilight didn’t understand, but her friend nodded anyway.
“Hm,” she said.
And that was the end of it. They had already spent too long discussing a strange smell. Time to move onto other things.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Have you read anything interesting lately?” asked Fluttershy.
Of course Twilight had. She went on about a nonfiction book about the process of sheep shearing.
“It’s surprisingly interesting,” she said, even though it wasn’t.
Fluttershy managed to listen to it all, relieved they weren’t talking about the smell anymore. She still got whiffs of it, but she managed to put it out of her mind. It couldn't possibly matter.
Eventually Twilight noticed the time and hastily said goodbye. A minute later she was gone.
Fluttershy sat on the bench. She was only reflecting on sheep shearing. She was not trying to place the smell. She stood up and wandered around only for exercise, not to try and locate the source. She didn’t get excited when it became stronger, she didn’t feel on the verge of solving a mystery. Finding it would not bring her any satisfaction.
Then, without any fanfare, she remembered what it was.
This entire time, she had been smelling the anti-flea shampoo she had bathed Angel in yesterday.
She felt bad about it. It wasn’t the fleas fault that they needed to drink blood to live. But it hurt her little bunny, and at some point she needed to draw a line. Angel was so much happier now that she had killed the fleas. He bounced around in the sunlight as if he had only ever experienced joy.
She told herself she wasn’t disappointed. She had known it couldn’t possibly matter. But at least she managed to put it into words.