Treehugger watched as dying golden waves danced across the granite kitchen countertop. The light danced off the glasses, cups, and utensils sat neatly spaced on the drying rack before coming to a stop at a sturdy wooden chair across from her.
A chair that had been empty for the past few months.
“You alright, sugar?”
“Y-Yeah, man.” It came from her like a faint, dying wheeze, nothing like the soothing, easy waves that her voice had carried for years and years. “I’m good.”
Applejack regarded her with a kind, sympathetic gaze. The Element of Honesty knew that she was lying, but decided not to push it any further. “Alright. You need any more water or anythin’?”
Treehugger looked down at the glass by her hooves, still full of water. “Uh. Nah.”
“Well make sure ya drink, y’hear? Good for them, uh. Chakras, as you say.” Applejack squeezed her withers and gave a quick nuzzle. “I’ll give ya space,” she whispered before withdrawing from the kitchen.
The silence that she left behind was absolutely deafening. It drowned out the auras that she had spent all her life feeling, swallowed her whole and cut her off from the pulsing energies that she knew the world emanated.
There was nothing there now but grief.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at the jar-like object resting on the side-table nearby, draped in a thin black cloth. She couldn’t bear to look at the empty seat across from her, glowing in the afternoon sunlight.
Treehugger took a deep, shaky breath. “H-Hey Flutters. You out there?”
To the regular pony, there was no reply. But even after all these years, Treehugger knew how to sense between the lines. There was the distant tinkling of a windchime, the creaking and groaning of wood as the house quietly sighed. A distant chirp of birdsong, mixed with the fluttering of wings and the crunching of leaves.
“I know, honey-dear. I know.” She sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes. “I miss you, y’know that?”
A gust of wind knocked a tree branch against the window. A tiny bird landed on the windowsill, chirping to itself.
It made her feel small.
Treehugger sniffed and reached across the table for a tissue. In the corner of her eye she saw a framed photograph, turned face down. With a despondent sigh, she dried her eyes and rose, making her way over to it.
Carefully, Treehugger picked it up and turned it over.
She already knew the image by heart. It showed herself, in a pristine white dress, being carried by her wife. Fluttershy had surprised them all that day by scooping up her newlywed lover and planting her lips on Treehugger’s own. The crowd had roared in approval, but neither of them heard it, too lost in one another to care.
They were so happy then. So carefree. So young.
Where had all that time gone?
Her hooves began to shake and she set the photo down, afraid she would drop it. Tears began to drip from her cheeks as echoes of their wedding surrounded her. Laughter and cheers, coupled with the clinking of glasses and popping of champagne bottles filled the halls, taking up the space that Fluttershy once did.
But one by one, they disappeared, leaving her alone in a house that was too big for one old mare.
Stumbling back to her seat, Treehugger mused over what she had lost. When had celebrations turned into mournings, birthdays turned to funerals? When had joy turned to sorrow?
When had all the warmth left her life?
She couldn’t say, but she couldn’t deny that it had happened. Some things after all couldn’t be stopped, like the nightmares of that dreaded hospital waiting room that plagued her at night. Time was slipping away like sand through her hooves, swept away by the rivers of life and time.
Sensing that she was in danger of losing herself, Treehugger exhaled slowly and focused on the distant clicking of the grandfather clock which stood in the hallway. It used to be much easier when the house was alive and full of sound. The rustling of feathers, the clicking of claws on floorboards, the cries and growls and barks and purrs of the hundreds of critters that Fluttershy cared for.
But when her health and memory began to fail, it was decided after a very difficult discussion that it was time to let the animals go. Fluttershy was never quite the same after that, but she hadn’t really been the same before either.
That fact didn’t make things any less somber. With the departure of the pets and animals, it was like the last piece of Fluttershy had gone. Her body was still warm, and her eyes still kind, but her mind…
“Honey-dear, I…” The tears were flowing now, the memories too strong to repress. “I hope you’re gonna remember me, when I find you in that great wide somewhere. This house isn’t the same without you.”
The house didn’t answer.
Treehugger yanked the curtains shut, cutting off the sunlight through the windows. She gave a frustrated sigh, turning to take stock of the room.
It was more or less the same since Fluttershy left.
Her guitar was still resting on a stand in the corner, thinly draped with a layer of dust now that her arthritis kept her from playing. The dresser was filled with scattered mementos and memorabilia: a deck of tarot cards, her collection of centering stones, an aroma diffuser and other various tools. None of which she had found the energy to use lately.
Treehugger had half a mind to sweep them all into the trash in one fell swoop.
Her connection to peace had been severed lately, leaving her heart spinning like a broken compass searching for its true north. The energies that she had spent her life attuning herself to were foreign and overwhelming now: a confusing mess of signal and sensation that she couldn’t piece together.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the creak of hooves on the floorboards outside her door. “Trees? You in here?”
“Yeah, I’m here AJ,” she replied stiffly. “As always.”
Applejack pushed the door open carefully, as she did everything. Treehugger felt a warmth of sympathy wash over her from the famer’s emerald eyes burning like green suns in the sky. “You holding up?”
Treehugger shrugged.
“Mm. I get that.” She eased herself down onto the corner of the bed. “Missin’ ponies don’t ever get easier.”
“It’s rude to ask, man, but… I gotta know,” Treehugger said hoarsely. “Do you miss them?”
“Which one?” Applejack asked, somber yet mischievously. “Only kiddin’. Yeah, all of ‘em. When we got the sense Granny was on her way out, she pulled me aside and told me ‘You listen here Jackie. I ain’t gonna have my ghost weighin’ you down, y’hear? When an apple goes bad, ya throw it out.’ Course that’s somethin’ easier said than done.”
Treehugger nodded quietly.
“Even rotten apples leave a stench behind,” Applejack chuckled before breaking into a series of coughs. “I’m alright, don’t fret. Just old. Point is, movin’ on is hard to do. But we’ll carry her with us, til’ we trot off into that great green pasture. From then on, who knows.”
“Who knows,” Treehugger echoed. “Too right.”
“Won’t matter to me none when I’m gone, though I reckon that doesn’t help you much.” Applejack regarded Treehugger again with those kind, weathered eyes. “You loved her. Ain’t a doubt in my mind she loved you too.”
A bird outside the window began to chirp again, its song rich and full even though she couldn’t see it.
Applejack rose from the bed and crossed the room, wrapping her legs around Treehugger.
Treehugger hugged back, feeling the tears welling in her eyes again.
The clinking of windchimes echoed from outside, mixed with the rise and fall of wind. A squirrel chittered before scampering away, rustling leaves in the process. Treehugger closed her eyes, feeling the motions of Applejack’s breath and her ironclad grip on her back.
She could feel something stirring within her. Something that was still soaked with grief, wet with pain. But it was slowly, slowly rising: like the sun on a summer morning, cresting above the horizon. Something that almost felt like peace.
“Treehugger?” a new voice sang from the doorway, getting her attention. Princess Twilight Sparkle stood regally, practically glowing in the evening light. “Are you ready? We can postpone the sunset for a little while longer if you’d–”
“Nah, nah,” Treehugger said, waving their hoof and blinking back a fresh wave of tears. “She… She wouldn’t have wanted that.”
Applejack patted her on the back, releasing her from their embrace. “Shall we get a mosey on then?”
“We’re here for you,” Twilight said, offering a foreleg.
Treehugger accepted it and was gently lifted off the bed. “Okay,” she said in a voice smaller than any animal Fluttershy had ever cared for. “Let’s go.”
The sky was bleeding in shades of red and yellow and orange, its colors fading away as quickly as they appeared. Treehugger always appreciated a good sunset, and this one was no different despite the somber circumstances.
Twilight had been antsy taking on the mantle of raising and lowering the sun and moon. But she had fallen in love with the act as soon as she had seen it. Twilight had described a loving, undeniable warmth that had embraced her as the spell flowed through the air. Like the sun had taken her, welcomed her.
The world worked in strange and fluid ways. Treehugger had devoted her life to understanding them, and she often wondered if she was getting any closer. There were patterns, certainly, but even they tended to ebb and flow. Nothing was consistent, nothing was predictable. All one could do was feel the change and ride it along.
Some changes came harder than others.
Treehugger took a deep breath to steel herself. She felt Twilight and Applejack step up, ready to support her at a moment's notice. “I’m fine, really,” she said, taking the first step forward.
A gust of wind struck her, like the world was exhaling slowly. It stung her eyes slightly but she quickly shrugged it off. A pair of robins flew by overhead, chasing one another while singing and chirping. The trees rustled their leaves and branches in applause.
Autumn was almost over. Winter was coming soon, waiting for the leaves to die.
Treehugger never thought she’d live to see another winter.
The garden outside of their home was still in bloom, colorful flowers poking out of bushes. Everything was red and orange, cool and strange. It reminded her too much of her last day here with Fluttershy.
She could remember it all too vividly. They sat on the porch, sipping from glasses of iced tea and watched the sunset. Fluttershy was enamored with it, as if she was seeing it for the first time. The wonder in her eyes, her quiet gasps and giggles…
It was new to her, even if it shouldn’t have been.
Treehugger didn’t know whether to smile or cry.
“Winter’s right around the corner,” Twilight said around. “Ponyville would love to see you around Winter Wrap Up again.”
Winter Wrap Up.
The event never failed to bring back memories. Memories of prancing through the square, catching snowflakes on their tongues and giggling. Breaths clouding in the air. Steaming hot chocolate and warm pecan pies.
“I… think I’d like that,” Treehugger muttered. “Ponyville’s always been great to me, man. I just… I don’t know if it’ll ever be the same.”
Twilight nodded sadly. “Perhaps not. But it will always be Ponyville, no matter how the faces change. It will be your home, and hers too.”
“Always will be,” confirmed Applejack. “I promise ya that. Ain’t no way it’ll forget either of ya after everythin’ y’all have done.”
Treehugger looked down at the urn that Twilight was levitating in front of them.
Dead leaves crunched beneath their hooves and the smell of soil filled the air. The sun continued to sink above them, all serving to remind her that time was passing her by.
She swiped at her eyes, feeling them cloud up again. She tried not to think about the seconds passing. Of the memories becoming stale photographs. Of her wife in the jar ahead of her.
The group came to a stop in front of a little grove on the edge of the house. A small hole had been dug in front of an aged oak tree, spiraling upwards into the sky, tall and grand. Bushes and flowers were scattered about, with leaves and petals stretched towards the sun in a quiet salute.
Twilight gently set the urn on the grass.
“We prepared everythin’ how ya wanted it. How she wanted it,” Applejack said.
Treehugger sniffed quietly. “Yeah, it’s… it’s just so perfect. Right on.” Tears rolled freely down her cheek now, her resolve too weak to stop them.
Applejack pulled her into a hug, turning her head away from the display. “Easy, sugarcube. I know it’s hard,” she whispered. “You don’t gotta look at it if you don’t wanna.”
“N-No,” Treehugger choked out. “I gotta, man. I gotta.”
With an immense effort, she pulled away from Applejack, staring at the hole. “I’m… Damnit, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” Twilight reassured, draping a wing over her. “You’re not in the wrong for feeling this way. Loss is something that always hurts, and never gets easier.”
Treehugger knelt, staring at the urn blankly.
“She’ll never be forgotten,” Twilight continued. “We’ll make sure of that.”
“Granny always said that names and faces might be lost to time, but the memories are what carry on.” Applejack sighed wistfully, squinting at the sun.
Treehugger just stared dully at the three butterflies painted on the side. “Flutters… Hope you can hear me, honey-dear,” she whispered. “I hope… I hope it’s beautiful up there. As beautiful as you are. The world… The world’s so much darker down here without you, honey. It’s cold down here. I can’t sleep in our bed alone anymore… I miss you, Flutters.” Her cracking voice faltered against the backdrop of birdsong.
“We miss you too,” Applejack said. “Ain’t the same without ya.”
Twilight bowed her head in agreement. “I hope it’s a wonderful place, wherever you are,” she said, eyes brimming with sadness. “And I hope you don’t forget us. Because we won’t forget you.”
The words rang hollow, echoing through the forest.
Treehugger would have wanted nothing more than to pour her soul out then and there. To let her sorrows loose, and spill her tears into the river like rain. But no words came. Nothing felt right to say, nothing that could give her the catharsis she longed for.
All she could do was cry: cry for the ghost of a memory, cry for a light that had gone out in her life. She felt Applejack and Twilight wrap themselves around her and wished she could revel in their warmth.
“I miss you.”
The words gave way to birdsong.
Treehugger woke up to golden sunlight, bleeding through the stained-glass window. Its rays trickled and shimmered like water, crawling up the floor and lapping at the corners of her bed. She tossed aside her sheets, watching the scene with interest.
“R… Radical,” she croaked.
Carefully, she stepped onto the floor as the cries of animals resonated from outside. From behind the drawn curtain a silhouette of a flock of birds flew past. Everything felt… golden. Whole. Right.
The world was quiet. Its energy was perfectly still, as if it was waiting for… something.
It could only mean one thing, couldn’t it?
There was only one way to find out. Treehugger raced for the door as fast her aged and failing legs could carry her, barely keeping from stumbling over her hooves. She threw herself out the front door, down the porch steps and onto the lawn, where she found…
…the world to be the same.
The oak tree loomed grand and large, branches sprawled across the sky. Leaves were shaken loose from it: falling to the ground in shades of green, red, and brown. The bushes rattled in the wind. Flowers bowed to greet her. Bees and birds dotted the air while squirrels and rabbits scurried beneath the brush.
And glowing in the warmth of the sun’s golden rays was that gravestone. That damned slab bearing a name, three butterflies, and a date. The grave that had haunted her dreams since the day it was dug.
“Honey?” the words almost echoed across the empty forest. Treehugger padded through the field of sunflowers and dandelions, feeling as the grass brushed against her legs. The sun seemed to envelop her, forcing her to raise a foreleg and shield her eyes from the gaze.
The wind passed her by like a whispered word lost to time.
There was something there, she knew it. There had to be.
She could feel it, tight and coiled, pulsing and racing in her bones. Her heart and mind was old, but not too old to believe.
Treehugger came to a stop at Fluttershy’s grave. A fresh bouquet of roses had been laid on top. She raised a shaky hoof and put it on top of the headstone. “H-hey Flutters. I… I thought today would be the day, man,” she croaked.
A bird chirped from somewhere above her.
“Twilight talks so much about time and how it moves at its own pace and stuff. And… And I know it does, I spent my whole life proving it does.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “But I don’t wanna wait anymore, honey dear. I wanna see you again.”
She stood there for a very long time. Her eyes didn’t open until she realized how still and quiet it had gotten. When she found the strength to see again, she saw that the tree, grave, and brush were still there, but the world beyond it was gone: replaced by an endless vale of pure and bright white.
Her heart leapt to her throat as she slowly turned around.
A yellow pegasus, young and bright and vibrant, smiled back at her. “Hey,” Fluttershy whispered. “I missed you too.”