//------------------------------//
// The Days You Spend In Loneliness 
// Story: She Brings the Butterflies 
// by Thithle Candytufth 
//------------------------------//

	The Sunday after that, I stepped down the stairway of Sugarcube Corner to find them without any of their exploration gear. They gave me disappointed, apologetic looks. I asked them why they came without their supplies, but I knew. The whole excursion was hopeless to begin with.

Applejack answered me. She said we had not been finding any trace of her, and that, simply, our efforts were useless. She qualified this, saying that it is immensely painful to admit it, but somepony had to.

Rainbow Dash huffed angrily.   

Twilight glared at Rainbow. She said that if Fluttershy refused to show herself, she must have not wanted us around her, and we have to respect that. 

Rainbow Dash almost leapt out of her seat. She yelled that she did not want to abandon her.

Twilight reprimanded her, almost shouting back that the search had gotten them nowhere, and that it is a waste of time and energy. She was tearing up as she spoke. 

I could tell she did not mean any of that. She was not even trying to convince herself. She wanted to keep looking, but could not imagine the pain of never finding her, or worse, finding her frail frozen body strewn amidst the dead undergrowth. She did not want the rest of us to experience that. She must have thought she was strong enough to handle it.

Rarity apologized profusely. She said she could tell how much this was bothering all of us, especially me, but she could not handle any more of it. The futility tore her apart inside. I could tell she felt useless, despite how helpful she had been in my silly efforts, and despite having taken them seriously for so long.

I was entirely sincere when I said I understood, and did not want them to feel guilty. I knew that there was little purpose in continuing. That would not stop me, however. I asked Rarity if I could keep the coat, and she gladly gave it to me.  

I decided to move into Fluttershy’s cottage. I figured that, if she does return, she would come back here, and it also shortened the walk to the forest. I was fully intent on keeping the search on. I had no intention of doing anything else. Although I was most certainly sad, I was somewhat relieved that my friends did not have to bear the burden and grief I was inflicting on myself. 

I had asked Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo to take care of her animals, and it appeared that they did a sufficient job. The place was still bustling with life. A few steps into the cottage, I heard a slightly muffled crunch. I lifted my hoof to find the crumpled corpse of a butterfly. 

I placed my saddlebag on the wooden table. I had only brought necessities. Within the overstuffed bag was a miscellany of useful things— rope, a map of the Everfree Forest, binoculars, a megaphone, bandages, a pocket knife, matches, and balloons. Gummy, of course, made the move with me. He isolated himself from the other animals, finding great joy in having his own swimming pool in the bathroom.

Having set up, and after feeding the animals, I wrapped the coat around my body and grabbed the saddlebag. I headed into the thick barricade of foliage alone. I called out to her with the megaphone. It drowned out the sound of my hooves pressing into the thick, compacted snow. Its squealing noises distracted me. I was not thinking as I wandered. I was only calling her name.

I repeatedly saw the outline of her figure made in the thin branches. The draped withered vines resembled the silhouette of her hair. I saw blurry images of her tail slipping between the tree trunks. I knew she was here, whether or not the images I was seeing were merely the hallucinations of my hopeful mind.  

The shadows began to burn at the snow beneath my feet. When it became difficult to recognize the contours of my hoofprints, I began to head back, my head hung low both to follow my trail and out of utter dejection. A flurry of snow carried by light wind began to dust the trail and tickled at my eyelashes. 

I returned to the cottage, dripping with the melted snow. I hung up the waterlogged jacket on the doorknob. I caught a glance at the floor and saw the remains of the butterfly. I swept up the crushed insect parts and tossed it into the wastebasket.      

I collapsed onto the couch. The amount of ache my limbs experienced did not bode well. This was merely a first solo attempt of many. I knew my body would not be able to take what I was planning. There was no way I would cease this search. 

Exhausted, I managed to drift off into sleep. My mind was haunted by her soft visage, her gentle voice, and her azure eyes. I found myself face-to-face with her. Her plush skin began to sink in. The outlines of her cheekbones became more and more sharply defined, until her thin flesh sagged around her bony frame. The trees bent inwards around us, shaking from their branches swarms of butterflies. They hovered about us, moving ever closer and closer. Hundreds of them landed on her body. They peeled her skin away. I gripped onto her. They alighted all over my body. I felt one begin to tear into my flesh. Then another followed. Thousands of tiny needles penetrated me. 

I awoke, panting. My vision was blurred with tiredness. I looked forward. Perched on my chest was a single pink butterfly. I gasped and squirmed off of the couch. The butterfly fluttered away. 

The morning light that poured in through the window scorched my eyes. I walked through the minefield of sleeping rodents and to the door. I grabbed the coat and the saddlebag. There was no use in doing anything else. I opened the door and stepped out, but felt my hoof bump into something unexpected. 

A basket of apples was placed at the doorstep. There were a half-dozen, nestled in a checkerboard cloth. I smiled a little inside.