Hoov grew testy as he awaited his mentor’s arrival. The moon had shifted noticeably along its eventide trail as he had waited, and it poked through the dusty gray overlap of cloud banks every so often to survey the ground below. The icy drizzle that percolated down the various layers of the forest dripped and dribbled upon Hoov’s head in a miserably syncopated rhythm. The sorry little apprentice had been expecting his mentor with nothing save a thin layer of scales to insulate him from the driveling foliage.
Hoov was about ready to go looking for her when she appeared out of the undergrowth whisking a now criminally abused towel at a stupefied bear clutching a glass. The bear’s mind had been thoroughly redistributed by what had previously been in the vessel; he felt like his brains had been smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.
Feeling for the very first time a profound sense of direction, the pony surveyed the dense diluvial forest and urged, “Hoovaloo, let’s go home.” They walked abreast between the bushes that were similar to juniper for a silent stretch of time, mentor and mentee. At long last, as they felt their way back in the dark together, the pony began to tell a long story: “You see, Hoov, I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be…”
* * *
Across the Universe, on a most innocuous evening, Fluttershy found herself in the middle of a vibrant forest. Accordingly, the only sounds available to her ears were the wind and the bats. The ground smelled strongly of must and was littered with innumerable twigs, leaves, and fungi, but to Fluttershy’s thinking, the forest seemed too clean and too fresh. Her analysis was interrupted when she noticed that there were some newly-picked blueberries in the basket at her feet.
Already it was drizzling. I should get home before Dash’s storm comes in. Fluttershy took to the air and raced back towards her cottage for the first time in a long time. To the world around her, however, she had never left. Looking down from above, the forest shimmered, reflecting the moon’s silver light. From this perspective, each tree looked like it belonged where it was put; it was as if everything had grown so naturally that it was neat and trim.
To be safe, Fluttershy made sure to stop flying a good ways away from her house and trotted the rest of the way back. Every so often, she encountered patches of desiccated roots that curved erratically, bursting from and then diving back into equally parched soil that was in dire need of a rainstorm. Sharp, whirling gusts brewed a shivering odor of sweet pine and churning static that marked the advance of a gale.
In sight of the clearing in which her house was situated but still a good ways into the forest, Fluttershy stopped. Something poked out from behind a tree in mesmerizing multicolor waves. She moved in to investigate, circumventing the general area of the color. Fluttershy crept around without trepidation as she tiptoed silently and held her breath. At long last, she was upon her quarry.
Standing before her when she pounced out from behind a sturdy trunk were Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. They turned around with a start and then, regaining composure, they stared at her sternly, but not without a glimmer of deep compassion mixed with admiration and pride embedded in their eyes. Luna put her hoof over her mouth and ‘sh-ed’ very softly. Celestia winked for an agonizingly personal second, as if to say, “Nothing’s gonna change my world,” and then she flew off, flapping in great whooshes. Luna nodded briefly, maintaining eye contact with Fluttershy. Suddenly, she darted off in a great flying leap after what Fluttershy could only assume was her sister. The two were briefly silhouetted against the moon before they disappeared against the gently beating backdrop of stars Fluttershy had parted from for so long.
Fluttershy snuck back to her house, careful to wake neither the chickens in their coop nor the other birds in their respective houses. She glanced at the back of her house as she passed it. Nothing was different. In spite of her attempt to sneak through the front door, she was forced to bear the awful creaking it produced for its entire rotation.
She peered up at the stairs. There was no green number. At closer inspection, the penultimate stair from the top had, in green letters, ‘Newell’.
Fluttershy deposited the basket of blueberries on her kitchen counter and then curled up in her bed to sleep, feeling a deep sense of belonging in, but not restricted to, the cozy confines of the snug blanket of safety that she so perfectly fit into. As she rolled into a comfortable position and sighed, there coalesced in Fluttershy’s heart a new sense of direction, for she knew that tomorrow would be the first day of her new life.