It was now the third day. On the second day, Fluttershy had found a package filled with assorted silverware and tied with a blue ribbon left by her door. The foal had rapidly learned to ask to be let outside when the need arose. Thankfully, she hadn’t tried to eat any of the animals, and for this, Fluttershy felt grateful. She had however, managed to catch Angel and had cuddled him well past the point of annoyance. The wizened rabbit could only huff and sigh with no chance of escape. So far, there had been no fires, with only one little accident indoors. Fluttershy had been quick enough to set the foal in the bathtub before ignition.
And no name had presented itself.
Today promised to be troublesome. A dark cloud rumbled over the Everfree, too large and dangerous for the weather pegasi to deal with. The decision had been made to allow the storm to run its natural course. The chickens were in their coops, the animals were secured in sheds and shelters, and Fluttershy had done her best to try and prepare.
Storms terrified her. This caused her no small amount of guilt and shame as a pegasus.
It would make it difficult for the foal to go outside if the need arose. Fluttershy pulled the foal closer to her chest. She was lying on her bed. She was worried that the foal would be terrified as well, as most foals were frightened of storms. The foal was burbling and sometimes blew a raspberry. There were blocks on the floor, another gift from Pinkie. Several of them had been eaten.
She wondered if she was wrong for feeling this way, but Fluttershy took a great deal of comfort in knowing that her foal would never go hungry. The entire world was made of food it seemed. Rocks, spoons, clawfuls of dirt, blocks, pacifiers, and even a wooden chair, cushion and all. There had also been a bug. A large centipede, with too many wiggling legs. She had slurped it up like a noodle after it had startled her mother.
As good as this felt right now, Fluttershy couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. She didn’t know what it was, but she could feel it nonetheless. Maybe it is just the storm, she thought to herself. Nerves, she reasoned.
The foal squirmed and wiggled. “Blocks!” She shouted.
Fluttershy reluctantly got up to set her back down on the floor, and as she did so, she checked on Angel in his basket in the corner. He was sleeping, his chest rising and falling.
“Please don’t eat the blocks darling,” Fluttershy said in gentle tones. “If you do, you’ll have nothing to play with. And, they make you gassy.”
“Fart!” She replied.
“Fanny burp?” Fluttershy countered hopefully.
There was a terrifying crack of thunder, which caused Fluttershy to dart under the bed. It was a well practiced move, something that had been done often, her small slender frame easily sliding along the floor. She huddled under the bed, trembling.
The foal waddled toward the window. Reaching up with her talons, she grasped the windowsill and pulled herself into a standing position to look outside.
“Get away from there!” Fluttershy warned. “It could be dangerous!”
The foal didn’t listen. She stood at the window, gazing out. Her eyes went wide as there was a dazzling flash of light that turned the sky an intense shade of purple. A few seconds later, another peal of thunder rumbled. She bounced up and down on her hind legs, her tail whipping around for balance, her talons lodged into the windowsill. Her slitted pupils narrowed, her grey eyes wide, her ears back against her head. Her mouth hung open slightly. She was entranced.
“Oh please come away from there…” Fluttershy pleaded. “I’ll give you all the cookies you can eat.” She struggled to keep her teeth from chattering.
“Sky!” The foal uttered. “Fire!”
There was another sizzling crack of lightning, followed by an immediate deafening blast of thunder that caused the entire cottage to shake. There was a cacophony of squeals, grunts, and the cries of small terrified animals. Fluttershy covered her ears with her fore hooves and struggled to hold back tears. The cottage shuddered as it was buffeted by a strong wind.
Fluttershy began to cry. She couldn’t help it. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold back. It started with one shuddering sob that open the floodgates, and everything else began to slip out.
The foal paused, mid-bounce at the window. “Mama?” She asked.
Fluttershy was so distraught that she hadn’t even heard the first instance of her foal calling her “mama.” Her panic had her in its thrall now.
The foal, hearing the cries, dropped down to all fours and wiggle-waddled over to the bed. Steadying herself on three legs, she lifted the blanket and looked under the bed. Her lower lip began to quiver slightly. “Mama?” She flopped down on her belly and slithered forward under the bed, not understanding what was going on.
Fluttershy became dimly aware of a nose pressing against hers and hot breath on her muzzle. She steeled herself to open one eye, and saw her foal lying nose to nose with her. With a speed born of desperation, her forelegs shot forward, snatching the foal and pulling it to her, the sudden movement causing the foal to yelp in surprise. She felt the prickle prickle of little claws on her neck, grasping her mane, causing a pleasant tingle to travel down her spine.
“Mama,” the foal said insistently. “Hug?”
Fluttershy’s only reply was a loud squeal as the panic seized her body from another crack of thunder.
They huddled together, in the dark space under the bed for what seemed like a long time. Finally, the agonising terror seemed to subside, and the storm, both inside and outside, began to die down, with only the occasional tremor or rumble.
“You’re so brave.” Fluttershy finally managed to say. “That didn’t scare you. I think I scared you more than the storm did. I’m so sorry.” She sniffled.
Outside, the first of the bravest birds began chirping. This calmed Fluttershy a great deal. She could feel a tiny heart beating so very close to her own, little claws wiggling and flexing in her mane, and a slender serpentine tail coiled around one of her hind legs. She took a deep shuddering breath, and then let it own slowly.
The foal wiggled free and returned to the window, looking out. “Out.” She stated, matter of factly.
More birds had joined the chorus. Fluttershy crawled out from under the bed. She wiped her face with her foreleg. The sun was already beginning to shine through the window, peeking through the remainder of the grey clouds. Fluttershy knew that the pegasi would be out soon, cleaning up the remnants, making the day sunny and pleasant again.
Fluttershy rose into a hover and prepared to take the foal outside.
Outside, there was a mess. Leaves and branches were everywhere. The ground had turned into mud, something that distressed the foal. She hissed when her claws sank into the mud, a sound that was definitely not very pony-like. She tried to walk on claw tips, her belly arched up and away from the ground, her tail held high. There was a rude squelch when she stepped into a mud puddle.
“Fart!” She yowled. She made her displeasure known with a trumpeting blast, the flames causing a hissing sizzle from the drenched ground. She quickly wiggle-waddled away from the steaming earth, mewling loudly at each squishy step. She scurried over the muddy ground with surprising speed, finally reaching a tree. She sank her front talons into the bark, braced herself, and then began to scurry up the tree, her hind claws finding purchase in the bark.
She perched in the fork of several branches, surveying everything around her, watching as the yellow pegasus went around checking on the animals. She extended her green feathered wing and gave it a flap, shaking water from it. She scowled. A beetle was scuttling up the tree nearby, out doing beetle errands now that the rains had subsided. Her tongue flicked out quickly and the beetle vanished, the only evidence of its passing were the crunching sounds coming from the strange foal. Looking up from her vantage point, she could see flying figures in the distance. She gave her own wings a few more flaps. She turned her head and looked at her leathery wing, she nosed the membrane and flexed her central knuckle. A bug flew past, or would have, if her tongue had not darted out again. She crunched her snack thoughtfully, examining her world. Her world was wet. And muddy. And she didn’t like that. She didn’t mind the water so much, but the mud was awful. It clung to her feathers and her coat. She didn’t like being dirty. She scraped her claws against the tree bark, trying to rid herself of the last of the mud. A butterfly flew too close, fatally close. The wings were dry and chewy, and sort of stuck in her throat. She pressed a scaly leg against the tree bark and rubbed, trying to get rid of an itch. She shed a couple of scales, revealing new shiny and smooth scales underneath. The rough patchy scales drifted away in the breeze. She sat there, content to watch the pegasus as she freed the strange feathered creatures that ran around crazily on two legs and fussed constantly. A squirrel clung to the bark above her, watching her, its eyes glinting in the sunlight. She looked up at it for a moment, watching its tail twitch, and then returned her attention to the pegasus below. “Mama.” She said to the squirrel, pointing downward with one extended talon. The squirrel looked in the direction she had pointed, chittered in agreement, and then scurried away.
“Where are you little one?” Fluttershy looked around, checking the yard. She felt the first pangs of panic rising in her chest. She heard a giggle, and, turning about, she could not see her foal. “Oh where are you?” She asked. “I can’t take being scared anymore today.” She heard the giggle again and realised it was coming from above her. She craned her head upward. “What are you doing up there? How did you get up there?” Fluttershy took wing and rose into the tree branches.
She hovered just a few feet away from where her foal was perched in the fork of the tree. “Why, you are like a little patch of climbing ivy that goes off and grows when nopony is looking. How did you get up here?” Fluttershy paused, looking at the green feathers in the foal's crest and wing, reflecting for a moment just how much they looked like leaves. “Climbing ivy,” Fluttershy repeated thoughtfully, looking at the foal in the tree. “Off growing up when I’m not looking.”
“Ivy!” The foal repeated.
“Climbing Ivy?” Fluttershy said in a questioning tone.
“Ivy!” The foal replied. “Ivy?” She said, trying to mimic her mother’s questioning tone.
“Are you my little Ivy?” Fluttershy asked.
The foal fell silent, her brow furrowing, her ears pivoting forward, her eyes narrowed. Her muzzle scrunched, and a single insect leg protruded from her lips, still twitching. She scratched her tummy thoughtfully with one free claw.
“Mama has Ivy?” She finally announced after trying to figure out the words.
“Yes, mama has Ivy.” Fluttershy repeated, smiling. “Climbing Ivy.”
“Ivy!” Ivy blurted.
“We need to get you down from there little Ivy. I have some papers to fill out and drop in the mail.” Fluttershy beamed. She felt the name was fitting, somehow, it was just right. Names had their own magic sometimes, strange predictors that had strong influences in the life of a pony, so a good name was important. Ivy was a name that had strong possibilities for growth, and that made Fluttershy happy.