//------------------------------//
// 2.2 The Ballad of Fluttershot 
// Story: My Little Pony: Northern Aggression 
// by A. Tuesday 
//------------------------------//

	Warm, humid air entered her nostrils. She exhaled daintily, savoring the air. Tennessee. Nothing like it.
It had been almost a month since a Confederate “victory” with iron warships up in Virginia. “Victory” in quotes because it really wasn’t – as found out by Confederate spies, the Union thought they had won, too. In reality, nobody had – she thought it very anticlimactic for what was apparently a big deal, but kinda funny all the same.
Fluttershy’s little nest in the tree wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it sufficed for what she needed to do. She stood on a large, thick branch of the tree, and leaned back on another one that was about shoulder-height. Her saddlebag was slung around the latter branch.
Of course, anybody passing under her tree probably wouldn’t see her, in part because she was 50, maybe 60 feet up – but also because she was covered, mane to hoof, in mud and leaves. Not a single speck of yellow coat or pink mane shown through the camouflage.
She simply leaned against the branch in the early of the morning, waiting for her signal. Even at this hour, the forest was alive with tons of creatures – crickets chirping happily, birds singing their daily songs, the rustle of leaves as small mammals ran across it.  It felt like home to her. If I could live anywhere in the world, it’d definitely be here.
Well, this world, of course. The woods of Tennessee were still a ways a way from her cottage in Ponyville, but it was a close second. At one point in time, she would’ve spent all day thinking about Equestria, and wishing to go home – but now, things are different. One could not afford to dawdle all day long around here.
A songbird whistled its tune a little louder than the rest. Fluttershy knew it wasn’t really a songbird – it was her fellow soldier, giving her the first signal.
The camouflaged pegasus reached to her left, picking up her newly-fashioned Sharp’s Rifle leaning on the same branch she was. She held it up, so that it was pressing against her shoulder, while she put her hoof in a special holster on the barrel, made just for her to use. For a pony with no opposable thumbs, or digits for that matter, the boys sure made it easy to hold a gun.
With that thought in mind, she raised her right hoof to the other apparatus the boys at the base came up with – a sort of pedal-extension for the trigger, so all she had to do was push down the lever to take a shot. Fluttershy rested her right hoof on the lever, and waited for the next signal.
Leaves crunched, and twigs snapped in the distance. It was a whole mess of different natural sounds, but Fluttershy knew those weren’t rodents making those noises. They were soldiers. The other soldiers. The Union.
She raised the sniper rifle up to her eye level, so she’s aiming down the sights, and just waited. Deep breathing, that was the key. Deep breathing. Those Northerners had absolutely no idea what they were in for.
Almost as soon as her fellow Confederate, the same one who had given the pegasus her first sniper rifle, handed her a modified Sharps Rifle, which had been originally pulled off a K.I.A Union sharpshooter, her accuracy on the target field increased ten-fold. Better than the rest of the Confederate Marksmen combined. Able to hit a target from two, sometimes three hundred feet away, in any weather and wind condition, she soon became to prized soldier of Davis’s Confederacy, even if she was a pegasus from somewhere else. Her marksmanship earned her the nickname “Fluttershot” – a title she took in pride.
Fluttershy was a kind, gentle, and often passive mare, who would’ve never harmed anypony – or anyone, as it was said here. But, as the saying goes, war changes people. Double for ponies. 
That kind, gentle pony still existed – but Fluttershot was also ruthless, cunning, and accurate. 
Supposedly.
However, she did come to possess loyalty that could only be matched by Rainbow Dash, whom she hadn’t even seen since they got here, and used that loyalty as motivation for what she did best – sniping.
A songbird sung softly. How sweet.
Fluttershy took a deep breath, one last time, and looked down the iron sights as a platoon of Union soldiers walked in the forest. She picked a random one – aiming at the gold buttons on his military cap – and moved the gun directly up so she targeted a cloud. She pressed on the lever.
There was a crack! as the bullet left the gun, and entered the puff of a cumulus cloud high above the Tennessee woods. 
“What the - ? Harding?” The soldier she had “aimed” at began frantically searching about, “Harding! Watch your back!”
“Snipers! Snipers in the tree! Take cover!”
The Northern soldiers shuffled around on the forest floor, as the nature sounds in the once-still air changed to sounds of war – gunshots, cries of pain, and general chaos. Fluttershy – now, in full Fluttershot glory -  smiled. Music, sweet music.
Back to the matter at hand. Fluttershot pushes her hoof against the lever on the bottom of the gun. She felt it click in place as the breech slid open, the empty cartridge falling out of the gun. Reaching with a muddy wing, she finds the pouch around her waist, pulls out a new cartridge, and inserts it in the breech. Then, using the same wing, reaches over to another pouch – this one containing gunpowder
She takes a small funnel, scoops out a small bit of powder, and pours it into the cartridge, at the back of the bullet. Fluttershot pulls the lever back ‘til it clicks, closing the breech.
She replaces the funnel in the pouch, then, uses her other wing to tilt back the hammer of the gun. With her teeth, she removes the percussion cap on the top of the gun, tosses it aside, and pulls a new one out of her bullet pouch. She uses her wing to pull back the hammer even further, and hears a small click as it stays in its final position, percussion cap in place. The gun was ready to fire.
Lengthy process, she thought to herself, but I think I’m managing just fine.
To any other treetop sniper, the battlefield would’ve been almost impossible – a small layer of smoke engulfed the floor, leaving visibility only to small shapes and forms moving about below. 
Not for the almighty Fluttershot. She found another target, hiding behind a tree. The gold buttons twinkled in between the iron sights.
Lean to the left a little bit. Now there was another, person-less tree in her sights. Push. 
The soldier’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he shrieked in horror. Make that “two” for today.
Push, place, pour, pull, pop, place, pop. There was a system to sniping, even if it was long, but Fluttershot had found it.  It came almost naturally to her.
The battle in the Tennessee floor progressed on like all the other battles did – unable to hear too much besides the crack of guns and the words of comrades.
“One more down!”
“Talk about Northern aggression!”
“Yeah! Atta girl, Fluttershot!”
She blushed in the treetop, glad the red on her cheeks couldn’t be seen through the mud and the actual pattern of the bullets couldn’t be seen by any Confederate. “Thank you!” she yelled down the tree. 
Her vantage spot was perfect – she could see everything, and as long as she didn’t move around a whole lot, she was practically invisible. Even if she talked, she was hard to spot among the treetops – and any Union soldier attempting to find her would be dead before they could. Anyone that could successfully find her, missed. You needed an awfully powerful infantry gun to reach all the way up there. That’s part of the reason she never went into battles involving a turret. Too risky.
Fluttershot readied the rifle for another shot. She noticed a rather elusive shape down below in the smoke – it’d probably benefit her squadron to get rid of that one. Or, at least scare them out of the front lines.
She put the iron sights to her eye. She finally found her target, and then her actual target – a branch just above the shape. Fluttershot took a breath inwards.
And then, out of nowhere, the songbird came back – not merely chirping, but actually flying in front of the pegasus’s eyes. 
“Oh!” she squeaked as she jumped, unknowingly lowering the gun pushed down the lever, firing the bullet.
As Fluttershot’s mind and eyes drifted back to the battle, she watched as the figure dropped to the ground almost immediately, and Fluttershot pulled away from her gun. 
What struck her first wasn’t that she potentially hurt anything – in fact, that shape looked too…inhuman to be a Union soldier. Initially, Fluttershot thought she just shot a bush or some sort. 
But, upon closer investigation with the naked eye, the thing was wearing a Union uniform – and through her brief glimpse, it still didn’t look like a regular human. You didn’t just dress up a bush in Union outfitting. And, come to think of it…was that orange she had seen through her sights?
Without reloading, she looked through the sights again, and found the lifeless figure on the ground. She was right – the figure was orange. 
And it was a pony, too.
One she recognized.
“Oh!” she gasped, and dropped the gun. She heard the thump of the Sharps hitting the ground, but faintly.
What had she done? She wasn’t used to killing the enemy humans, and had no desire to. Especially not ponies. Especially not ponies. But…why was she there? No…it…it wasn’t possible. They wouldn’t fight, would they? The Union wouldn’t possibly make them fight…why would she be here? On the other side? Was she stupid?
No, Fluttershot – Fluttershy was stupid. Why was she “killing”? Why had she even agreed to this? This wasn’t her – this wasn’t her at all. Look where it got her! She killed one of her best friends…this wasn’t just being angry or mean…this was killing! She ended the life of a close friend!
What was she doing? She was a monster! 
She put hooves to her mouth, muffling sobs as tears came. “No…no…” she tells herself, “It didn’t happen, I didn’t kill her…”
But, she knew the truth – she had definitely killed her. She fired the bullet – she was the murderer.
Fluttershy sobbed. “No, no, no!” she bawled, “What am I doing? I don’t deserve to be here! I don’t deserve to be alive at this point!”
This was too much. She got in way over her head, and paid the price. It was time to end this.
She reached with her wing into her saddlebag, and pulled out a small pistol. Cocking the pistol, and turning the safety off, she toyed around with it in her wings, feeling its weight.
“I killed her. I don’t deserve to be alive…” she repeated.
Fluttershy moved the gun up so it was pointing to her forwards. She squeezed her eyes shut, and said goodbyes in her head as she began to squeeze the trigger.
“FLUTTERSHY!”
The voice came from below, and the pistol, now glowing with a bluish magical aura, was ripped from her wing and thrown into the expanse of the Tennessee forest.
She looked down, recognizing the voice. She saw the pony the voice belonged to among the throng of Confederates, her horn still glowing from the magic she just performed. Next to the white unicorn stood a usually-bouncy pink earth pony, standing in shock. The pink pony spoke now.
“Fluttershy, what were you doing? You could’ve killed yourself!” She yelled over the gunfire, which had begun to move further away from Fluttershy’s sniper nest as the Union soldier retreated. 
“Pinkie Pie, I was trying to!”
“Wh- WHAT? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?”
“Pinkie Pie…I…I don’t deserve to live! Not after what I did! What am I doing, scaring out these Union soldiers by ‘sniping’ them – I knew this would happen!”
“Fluttershy,” the white unicorn spoke this time, “whatever are you talking about?”
“I – KILLED – APPLEJACK!” Fluttershy yelled down from her position, “SHE DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE, AND I ENDED HER LIFE. I DON’T DESERVE TO BE ALIVE.”
The unicorn and the earth pony looked over towards where the battle was going, looking for signs of Applejack. While they looked that way, Fluttershy reached into her saddlebag, and pulled out her sole grenade, an experimental Raines Grenade.  Clutching it close to her mud-covered chest, she yelled down, “Goodbye, Rarity! Goodbye Pinkie Pie!”
They looked up, and went slack-jawed when they saw the dart-like object in her hooves.
“Fluttershy! Throw that grenade away!” screamed Rarity.
“Fluttershy, no!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie.
Fluttershy held the grenade close. Goodbye, world. I’ll see you soon, Applejack.
She pushed the grenade into her chest, feeling the pressure-plate slide into the grenade, activating the charge.
And she waited. 
And waited.
Waited for the explosion that’d take her life away.
But there wasn’t one.
She looked at the grenade, turned it around in her wing, and tossed it behind her. “Defective,” she muttered, “Of course.”
Fluttershy grabbed her saddlebag, and flew down to the now-emptied forest floor. The two ponies greeted her with a hug.
“I’m done!” bawled Fluttershy, tears beginning to flow down her face like a waterfall, “Applejack didn’t need to die – she didn’t need to be a part of this. I didn’t even know she was involved.”	
“Neither did we,” noted Rarity, as she looked towards the Union soldiers, “I figured they wouldn’t – oh, but, it looks like someone picked up her body. Maybe the other two are there, too. We can find them.”
Fluttershy shook her head slowly. “I don’t care, anymore, Rarity. I – I just want to be done. With everything.” She blinked in a futile attempt to end her tears. “I never thought I’d actually kill her…”
Pinkie Pie rubbed her Confederate-gloved hoof on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “There, there, Fluttershy. Nopony said you had to continue with war, so why don’t you stop? We’ll find the others, and – “
“No,” stated Fluttershy, “I doubt you’ll find the others – they’re probably dead, too. And even if you do, I’m not confronting them – I’ll have to tell them that I killed Applejack. I just want to go home, guys. I - I want to go home, to my cottage, and n-n-n-ever ever leave.”
Rarity gave Fluttershy a hug, in an attempt to comfort her. “I know how you feel, Fluttershy…”
“No, you don’t!”
“Okay then, I don’t. But, I do know that if you ever want to see home again, we have to find Twilight. If Applejack is…was…here, then the other two are, too. She brought us here, she can bring us home.”
Fluttershy sniffed. “I know, I know, but…”
“No buts,” retorted Rarity, “We have to find her. We’ll go all over this damned country and their war if we have to, but we will get home. Right Pinkie Pie?”
The pink pony lightened up. “Right! We’ll get home lickety-split!”
Fluttershy sniffed again. “Without Applejack…” she said, “Rarity, I – I can’t. I’d rather be – “ depressively. 
Rarity, before her friend even finished, took her hoof and struck it across Fluttershy’s face lightly. Fluttershy, shocked, looked up to her.
“Okay,” began Rarity, “That’s enough. You and I both know that there’s noth – nothing you can – you can do about it.” Her voice was cracking and water formed in her eyes. “A-Apple-Applejack is gone. I’m s-sorry, but she is. Now, we’ll just have to go on. Tell Lee that you’re done. Find Twilight. A wise soldier once told me not to – n-n-not to dwell on the past. And, I – I – we just have to, Fluttershy.”
Fluttershy just stared at Rarity. Eventually, she just looked down in thought.
Rarity sniffed, somewhat regaining her ladylike composure, and continued. “So, you’re coming with us – and then we can get out of here before another one of us dies. I believe in you, Fluttershy. No – I believe in you, Fluttershot.”
Fluttershy looked up. “Please,” she begged, “I can’t bear to have that title anymore.”	
“Let’s – let’s not deal with that right now,” Rarity began to rush, looking cautiously over to the retreating Confederate troops and the stray bullets that still seemed to get near them, “Let’s head on back to base for now, I suppose. But, I – I might grab the Sharps first, if I were you. Just in case”
Fluttershy looked towards the rifle, which had landed only a few feet from where they had been standing. She sighed deeply. She didn’t ever want to have to hold the rifle again. But, Rarity tended to be clear-minded about things. 
She trudged over, and reluctantly picked up the rifle. Just in case, I guess.	
The three ponies turned, the Sharps Rifle strapped onto Fluttershy’s back, like it had been for the last couple months, and began a slow walk back to the Confederate base outside the battlefield. Fluttershy could think of nothing but Applejack on the way there.
Neither could the other two ponies, but they made sure to hide all their lingering tears of sorrow for their fallen friend. Fluttershy’d been through enough, she didn’t need to see anymore – war puts all through enough.
But, all three it wasn’t enough. There would be more, unfortunately.
That’s just how the War of Northern Aggression works.