//------------------------------// // Miracles // Story: Timed Ramblings // by Midnight herald //------------------------------// It wasn’t an everyday occurance for Zecora to leave the Forest. It always seemed that she preferred the wild places, the quiet places. It was said that she only truly left in cases of emergency, whether by chance or some kind of voodoo. And yet here she was, knocking on Fluttershy’s door with an urgency seldom seen. So of course Fluttershy opened it right away, dropping her bag of birdseed and leaving a messy pile of sunflower and carroway on her nice green carpet. As soon as the door opened, Zecora began. “Fluttershy, I do implore, I need your help with a manticore. Her term is up, the time is right, but of her cub many will desire a bite. So please, my friend, I beg - make haste, for we cannot another young one waste.” Fluttershy took half a minute to decipher the rhyming verse into normal terms. Then she grabbed her emergency bags, slung them across her back, and asked Angel to tell Pinkie what was going on. Pinkie was a master of charades and would get the message. After all, it wasn’t every day that a manticore gave birth. Zecora was right; this was important. Manticores were an endangered species, the 50th listing down on the registry. Inhumane hunting practices, though outlawed decades ago, had thinned their numbers to a dangerous low. Birthings were difficult, and oftentimes the mother would be too exhausted to guard her cub afterwards. Many common misconceptions about manticores persisted as fact, especially near the Everfree. One of the most common was the idea that manticores were the top of the food chain. Sure, a full-grown manticore had no real enemies. Nothing would dare go after it once its stinger came in. But until that segment of growth, at an average of two years old, manticore young were everything’s prey. Timberwolves, Celestial animals, bears, cockatrices; really anything with an appetite for magic-enhanced meat would take them out. Zecora led her through the twisting undergrowth at a fast clip, winding and turning at odd intervals. Fluttershy stayed close, cringing at menacing shadows and claw-like branches. She knew she’d be safe with Zecora, but something about the forest never quite sat right with her. Fluttershy hated how she was scared right now, when a creature needed her so. Soon enough, she could hear the cries of the mother in labor. She galloped on ahead, heedless of the thorns and vines that scratched at her legs and caught in her mane. It wasn’t pretty. The cub was trying to come out sideways, and the mother was roaring out in agony, thrashing around. Three large oak trees lay in pieces around the bloodstained clearing. Fluttershy did what she could to calm her down, speaking as soothingly as she could while still shouting over the manticore’s guttural wails. “I’m here to help you,” she all but screamed. “This might hurt a lot, but I promise it’ll make everything easier!” The manticore met her eyes with fear and pain and hope, and she set her jaw. Then she set her back legs into the ground, forced her forehooves into the birth canal, and turned the cub around. The manitcore shrieked, louder than anything yet. Her barbed tail lashed around, barely missing Fluttershy’s head. But it was done. Hours, maybe, later,he cub’s head poked through, and with some steady pulls, Fluttershy helped the mother bring her little one out into the world. It was a miracle, really. Looking down at the cub’s closed eyes as it rested in its mother’s arms. A cracked branch got Fluttershy’s attention, and she whirled around. “Pinkie? What are you doing out here?” She stared at her friend, at the basket held between Pinkie’s jaws. PInkie set it down, and some balloons popped out. “Happy birthday, Flutters,” she whispered after a look at the sleeping cub. “I talked to the girls, and we can have a real party tomorrow, ‘kay?” Fluttershy threw herself at the other mare and caught her in a tight hug, not particularly caring that she had blood and celestia-knew-what else in her fur and mane. “Thank you, I knew you’d understand,” she whispered. “You always do.”