Fluttershy groaned softly. Everything hurt, a dull aching pain that spread out from her ribs, down the length of her spine, and into her extremities. Her eyes felt like lead curtains when she tried to open them. She rolled over onto her side, struggling slightly under the weight of what felt like half a dozen thick, woolen blankets.
She managed to open her eyes, her mind creating the grotesque image of a solid lining of skin over her eyes ripping and tearing, and winced at the sudden pain in her head. Trembling, she gingerly extricated herself from the bed, knocking two or three incredibly thick woolen blankets to the floor as she moved. Fluttershy coughed, an act that sent paroxysms of pain shooting throughout her body. She gasped and staggered backwards, which also caused waves of agony. She half staggered, half fell forward and nearly ran into a table, upon which she rested her fore hooves. Eyes wide, she stood there, breathing heavily.
“Fluttershy, you are awake,” the voice of her long-time friend Zecora said from behind a curtain, which separated Fluttershy’s room from the rest of the hut. She pushed aside the curtain. “I-” she began, though her voice trailed off as she saw Fluttershy leaning against the table, obviously in pain. “Listen, you must should know what I will do,” the zebra said softly as she gently helped Fluttershy to the bed, “For your pain, I am creating a special brew.” Fluttershy nodded weakly. Had her voice not felt like it was made of sandpaper, Fluttershy might have offered her thanks. Instead, she was silent, and only nodded again. Zecora left the room for a moment, and returned with a stone mug. She handed the mug to Fluttershy. The mug was filled with water. Fluttershy drank it all in several large gulps, small drops running down her chin and cheeks as she did so. The raw, scratchy feeling in her throat was gone when she was finished.
“The brew will be ready shortly, Fluttershy,” Zecora said as she took the mug and placed it on the table that Fluttershy had been leaning on a few moments earlier, “In the meantime, you should try and catch some shut-eye.” She reached down and picked up one of the blankets that Fluttershy had knocked off the bed, and laid it on her once more. Fluttershy shivered and trembled.
Zecora’s eyes suddenly lit up. She muttered something to herself, and left the room. Fluttershy didn’t bother asking why. She rested her head on the pillow, and sighed softly, wondering when this “special brew” of Zecora’s would be ready. A few minutes past, some of the longest minutes in Fluttershy’s memory, before Zecora returned, carrying a tray with another stone mug on it. This stone mug was steaming, and even from a distance of a few yards, Fluttershy could smell a pungent, minty aroma coming from the drink.
Zecora set the tray down on the table, gingerly picked up the mug, and handed it to Fluttershy. The brew was thick, and had a dark green color. Fluttershy sloshed it around the mug for a moment, before taking a small sip. As the liquid ran down her throat, she could feel the sharp pains begin to ebb away. Fluttershy nearly cried out in relief, but instead contented herself to drinking the entire mug in as fast a time as she could. She sighed again, in relief this time, as the drink took hold.
“When I rescued you, Fluttershy,” Zecora said as she went back to the table, “This… this too fell from the sky.” She picked up something and placed it in Fluttershy’s lap. The piece of the Amulet of Binding glimmered softly in the faint light in the room. Fluttershy gasped and ran a hoof over the sleek, smooth surface. She reached out and delicately took the piece in her hands, feeling its weight as if she needed to be reassured that it was real. She pressed the piece against her chest.
Leaning back in the bed, Fluttershy looked to Zecora and said, “Can you please bring me a quill, some ink, and paper, please?’ “Of course, Fluttershy,” Zecora replied, “I need not ask why.” “Thank you very much,” Fluttershy said softly as Zecora left the room. She held the piece close to her. The pain, the entire horrific fight with Dash and Twilight, the journey into the forest, all of it felt justified now that she had the amulet piece.
When Zecora returned and set the writing supplies down on near Fluttershy, and then fetched a small wooden slab for her to write on, Fluttershy found that she didn’t know exactly what to write. She considered waiting for a while, to think on it, but decided instead to take advantage of the clarity of mind brought on by the pain killing brew. She dipped the quill tip into the ink and started writing. “Dear Princess Celestia,” she wrote, “I wanted to write this to you to say that the item you requested is safe and with me. Your loyal subject, Fluttershy.”
Fluttershy stared at the words on the page, watching the ink dry, wondering if she had said enough. If the Slender Pony somehow managed to intercept the letter, then it would need to be vague enough to confuse it, but paradoxically needed to be clear enough to be understood by Celestia if it wasn’t intercepted. Fluttershy decided that there was only one way to find out, and that was to send it off to Celestia. She sighed, sealed the letter, and set it in her lap.
Mailing it would prove a problem, however. She flexed her wing muscles, and despite the painkillers, yelped from the sudden pain. Zecora stuck her head in through the curtain, an eyebrow raised. Fluttershy smiled and said, “It was nothung, Just waiting for the brew to kick in.” Zecora nodded, closed the curtain, then came back in a few minutes later with a tray of food. The meal, which was little more than bread and soup, looked like a feast to Fluttershy, who had become acutely aware of how her stomach was growling. As she ripped off a chunk of the bread and ate it, she said to Zecora, “Is there any chance that we can go into Ponyville? My wings are hurt, and I’d like to avoid making the trip by myself.” Zecora picked up one of the stone mugs and set it on top of the others, expertly balancing them. “Of course, we can leave quite soon,” she said, “I need to go to the market tomorrow afternoon.” Fluttershy smiled, thanked Zecora again, and set about eating her soup. The Slender Pony would have to wait until then.
Late that night, as Fluttershy slept a brew-induced sleep that yielded no dreams in Zecora’s hut, two small figures made their way through the dark streets of Ponyville. Applebloom lead Scootaloo by the hoof past the entrance to the inn where Applebloom had been staying. It was late, nearly midnight, and the innkeeper had turned in for the night. It was the perfect opportunity.
“Applebloom, we shouldn’t be here,” Scootaloo pleaded again, “Applejack said to stay in bed.” But, like her earlier protests, Applebloom didn’t hear any of it. “Aw, hush,” Applebloom retorted, “Mr. Widemouth said he’d meet us ‘ere, and Ah intend to meet ‘im.” “Applebloom…” Scootaloo said softly, her eyes nervously looking around at the dark silhouettes created by the buildings. “Don’t you ‘Applebloom’ me,” Applebloom snapped, “You’ve got to trust me.” “It’s just…” Scootaloo began. “Don’t you trust your friend?” an unfamiliar voice said from the darkness nearby, cutting Scootaloo off. The voice was high pitched, with a musical quality to it. It sounded wholly friendly.
“Do you trust her?” the voice, presumably Mr. Widemouth, repeated, “Or maybe it’s me that you don’t trust, hm?” A small shadow darted across Scootaloo’s field of vision, just out of sight. “It’s perfectly understandable, of course,” Widemouth continued when Scootaloo didn’t answer, “After all, I’m a stranger. But, I don’t want to be. I want to be your friend, like I’m Applebloom’s friend. What do you say?”
“I-I-I” Scootaloo stammered. “You don’t have to answer just yet,” Widemouth interrupted, “Just wait a bit. I’ll prove how good of a friend I can be.” “A-A-And how’re you gonna do that?” Scootaloo asked, finally finding her voice. “I can help you, Scootaloo,” Widemouth replied simply. His words seemed to work their way through Scotaloo’s ears, into her brain. The musical nature of his voice… something about it felt safe. It felt trustworthy. Scootaloo shook away her doubts as if they were cobwebs coating her eyes. “What can you help me with?’ she asked, more confident now.
“Why, I can help you fly,” Widemouth answered. Scootaloo’s eyes widened and she suddenly felt weak at the knees. She absently looked to her wings. Applebloom nudged her shoulder. “Ya see? Ah told ya he’s awesome,” she said. From the darkness, Widemouth giggled.