And You Will Go Far

by Xylophon

The People's Mare

The carnage left in the wake of the market square riot was truly intense, if one were to number the countless innocent fruits and vegetables crushed and trampled underhoof among the casualties of the coming storm. Splintered wood and torn pieces of brightly colored canvas awnings covered the paved plaza, testament to the fury of the masses. The bright sun shone down upon those who would seize the day, and nary a cloud dared to cross the morning sky -- any offending cumulus would probably have been kicked into oblivion by an irate pegasus, anyway.

Around the four edges of the market square there now stood a proud barricade, fabricated from bits and pieces of smashed fruit stands and destroyed advertisements, the gaps filled in with pulpy crushed pineapple and orange. A few marketgoers stood back and surveyed the grand structure, a monument to the lives lost in the struggle for affordable produce (well, no pony had actually died during the riot, but perhaps things would get more exciting later) while others chased after the few remaining un-destroyed fixtures of the weekly farmer's market. Before long, the active component of the riot had reduced to just a few more determined individuals stomping around aimlessly over a thick layer of slightly sticky sawdust.

The carrot stand, which lay in ruin at the center of the plaza, had inexplicably caught fire and was now burning away halfheartedly, providing a short-lived beacon for the crowd. Beside the smoldering pile lay a particularly uncrushed apple cart, overturned in the heat of the moment and then forgotten, fortunately for the sole inhabitant for whom it now provided shelter, a certain deathly frightened, peace-loving pegasus.

Fluttershy trembled underneath the serendipitous fruit vessel, eyes darting around for any sign of life approaching her hiding place. Her delicate heart raced as she recalled the disturbing events that had just transpired, a whirlwind of unpleasantries -- and carrots -- that spiraled wildly out of control. Uncomfortably aware that fate had placed her squarely in the center of the recent turn of fortune, she considered the likely outcomes of this development: perhaps the anger and excitement would die down relatively soon and the rioters would all realize how silly they were behaving, and everything would go back to normal. Failing that, the Ponyville police were bound to show up any minute to put an end to the chaos, right? Fluttershy wasn't sure of the nuances of Equestrian free speech law, but given the circumstances, surely she would not be counted as responsible for this whole incident...right?

Though for a moment her resolve wavered and she wondered if she truly was at fault and therefore ought to take responsibility -- perhaps that was the right thing to do. Her heart sank at this thought.

Unbeknownst to Fluttershy, a clerical error by an exhausted bookkeeper at the Ponyville police department (who was promptly sacked) had resulted in every available officer receiving a day off that day, and thus predictably they all currently occupied the local donut shop on the exact opposite side of town. Fate seemed rather determined not to let the unfortunate animal lover off easy this time.

As the minutes ticked away under the apple cart it became increasingly clear to Fluttershy that at some point she would need to crawl out from her hiding place and take matters into her own hooves, whatever that might entail. She scrunched her eyes shut at the prospect of trying to calm a crowd of furious ponies; though she had little trouble placating fearsome creatures like bears and manticores, speaking to other ponies was a different game entirely. Recalling the all-too-fresh memories of multiple failed attempts at an assertive demeanor, she concluded that the best way to deal with the current quandary was to speak quietly and without too much force. Certainly that would work -- after all, it had never failed her before.

Now all she needed was a plan...that is, one that didn't involve carrots.

~~~

Near the makeshift front lines of the emerging movement, just in front of the bizarrely majestic fruit-stand-wall, stood the same moustached, gym-shorts-wearing stallion who had engaged the carrot salespony less than an hour before. Having appointed himself the de facto spokespony of the revolt, the boisterous stallion -- who called himself "Ace," a name which, he had emphatically declared, nopony present would soon forget -- had originally conceived the idea to construct the barrier in the first place. Reasoning that the ponies enclosed therein would require some time for deliberation before mounting a full-scale offensive on whatever it was they were fighting against, he explained his plan to the excited rioters, who, drunk on indignation and a renewed feeling of power (and probably a few bunches of overripe grapes), cheerfully set to the work.

Ace himself had never encountered much difficulty in purchasing carrots, nor any other fresh vegetables or fruits, for that matter: a minor-league tennis player, he had never really wanted for much in his life. For that matter, neither had most of the other ponies currently busy with revolutionary business. The problem facing the group might in fact be nothing more than a minor inconvenience for the majority of- no! Perish the thought. An injustice was an injustice; Ace would have his way with the corrupt system, and that was that.

"Excellent work there," he said good-naturedly as he cantered past a small group of ponies busily piecing together fragments of cloth to create a crude banner. "We need a standard to fly before our army as we charge into battle, and this ought to do quite nicely."

"You think so?" one member of the flag team replied, beaming. The center of the flag bore an emblem vaguely recognizable as a bundle of carrots with a vegetable knife protruding from the right side, and directly underneath someone had scrawled the words DON'T TROT ON ME.

"Absolutely." He gave a grin that was more self-satisfied than appreciative, but the creative ponies didn't seem to notice.

Another, a light blue unicorn mare with a blue-and-white-striped mane, chimed in, smiling. "Thanks, mister...uh...mister..."

"Ace." He scowled, glaring at the unicorn, who was already back to her project.

Most of the ponies in the plaza had found some sort of task they deemed pertinent to the upcoming struggle and immediately put their hooves to work on whatever it was, except for Ace, who remained content with supervising the various efforts. They had taken to collectively referring to their group as the "United Carrot Party of Equestria," though Ace himself had pushed for the title "Association of Carrot Eaters." The Carrot Party, or "the C Party" for short, soon found itself in a state of relative confusion, however, when its constituents discovered they weren't entirely sure what exactly they were trying to do next. They had already destroyed the market square and seized all available assets it had to offer. By obliterating the farmer's market, they had technically eliminated the problem posed by the exorbitant charges previously attached to their vegetables. With little remaining to rage against, the rioters were gradually becoming restless. What would they do now?

"We move onward and upward, gaining higher ground as we go," Ace responded vaguely to a cream-colored earth pony who had approached him with this very question.

"For what purpose?"

"Liberty, obviously."

"Liberty to do what?"

"To live our lives independently."

"Independently of what?"

Ace paused for a moment, briefly caught unawares. "Other ponies getting involved in our business, and undermining our values."

“Such as?”

He gritted his teeth. “Values such as independence and...and being free from expensive carrots.”

The mare nodded, apparently satisfied with this response. “So what do we do now?”

~~~

Fluttershy, having worked up enough courage to move from her fixed position beneath the upturned apple cart, reluctantly poked her head out from her shelter and looked around her immediate vicinity. To her right lay the still-smoldering remains of the carrot stand, the sight of which made her wince inwardly. Three bits may have been a steep price for carrots, but it didn’t justify destroying that poor mare’s livelihood. She made a mental note to ask Pinkie Pie for an apology cake to offer her after this whole thing blew over, if she decided to stay in town, that is. What kind of cake might she like, anyway? A carrot cake, perhaps? On second thought, that might not be entirely appropriate.

She shrunk back a few inches upon spotting the edge of the barricade frontier constructed by the other rioters, observing their indignant expressions and industrious attitude. How could they have possibly interpreted her small problem as deserving of such enormous retribution? She could have easily resolved the issue on her own, in retrospect. Six bits for a pound of carrots paled in comparison with the funds it would surely require to repair all the damage she had indirectly caused today. In order to make this all right she first needed to convince them that they were misconstruing her motivations.

Though, she considered, taking a deep breath and retreating back to the safety of the overturned wagon, it probably could wait just a few more minutes.

~~~

While it was previously unclear how the ponies on the other side of the wall might react to the presence of this unusual new movement, after another half hour or so had passed, the guard ponies Ace had set up near each corner began to report energetic chattering and confused conversation from outside the plaza. The time to prepare for the eventual assault on “the other ponies who keep getting involved in our business” was swiftly running out, and an apprehensive air began to descend on the mares and stallions of the C Party.

One unfortunate younger stallion, a blue unicorn by the name of Pokey Pierce who was wearing a pumpkin shell as a helmet which slightly impeded his vision, made the mistake of stepping on the corner of the party banner which the creative team had just completed, for which Ace had the guard ponies seize him by the legs and hurl him over the top of the barrier, which was followed by a muffled thud and a quiet “Ow.”

They had kept his pumpkin helmet, though -- noting his resourcefulness, a trio of pegasi began stockpiling weapons fashioned variously from wooden beams, pieces of the flagstone pavement, and even some of the less squashed vegetables from the stands. A few borrowed pieces of the barricade to repurpose as riot shields, and flew around the plaza assigning duties to the assembled ponies, forming haphazard ranks out of the ragtag band of rebels. One began a somewhat crooked salute, and the rest followed suit, some obliviously raising their left hoof at attention instead of their right.

What they lacked in formality they made up for in enthusiasm, despite the fact that none of them was quite sure what was going on. At one point the youngest member of the group, a turquoise pegasus filly who couldn’t have been more than seven years old, led the gathering in a spirited cheer, though she mistakenly substituted “cucumbers” for “carrots” during the mantra.

The only one who wasn’t having fun at this point was Ace, who was starting to feel a growing concern that the other ponies had misinterpreted the term “party” as the structure of their organization. Perhaps they didn’t think him a true leader. He needed to find a pony who could convince the assembly of the gravity of their situation before the whole movement fell to pieces, rendering all their work up to this point for naught. Certain that every one of them had the soul of a conscientious objector deep down, he knew he merely needed to provide a strong voice of reason to guide them in their noble quest.

Ace was a spokespony, but what they needed now was a leader. He needed a pony who could unite this motley crew of concerned citizens, one who could speak with enough power to give this organization the boldness it needed to win the day. Somepony willing to stand up for the cause, to show the world what liberty, independence, and lower carrot prices was all about.

Somepony like that yellow mare from before.

~~~

The very earth around the upside-down apple cart seemed to shake as Fluttershy heard solemn hoofsteps approaching her hiding place. She froze, mind racing. What happens if they find me? I don’t want any part of this!

The cart was lifted up over her head, away from her, and she squeaked as the harsh light of the midday sun burned her frightened eyes. Two large stallions, who had just noticed the apple cart while foraging for any remaining supplies, had moved it, revealing the terrified creature hiding within.

“Hey, you’re the mare who tried to buy those carrots!” one said to her, peering down at her balled-up form. “You did a great thing back there, ya know. I think Mr. What’s-his-name with the moustache was looking for you.”

“I...huh?” Fluttershy managed, dazed.

The two had already moved on, piling up other remaining supplies in the now-upright wagon. Somepony is looking for me? All at once Fluttershy wasn’t certain whether to find another place to hide or to proceed with her earlier plan.

She didn’t have to make the decision for herself, as more ponies spotted her from across the plaza and began to point, yammering excitably to one another. Instantly aware that she had once again become the center of attention, she froze, feeling helpless and slightly nauseated. To her immediate horror, the other ponies began approaching her, forming an animated circle around the pony who had inadvertently brought them all together that day.

A familiar moustached stallion emerged from the crowd, stopping immediately in front of Fluttershy, who let out a small “eep” before shrinking into a small yellow blob on the ground, pink mane partially covering her eyes.

“You...” Ace said.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“...are the hero of this movement, this proud band of freedom fighters.” He lowered his head, narrowing his eyes and giving her a small smile.

“Freedom what?” She looked up, even more confused than before. She had assumed they were all just out to cause a big ruckus. What was he talking about now?

He continued. “As the defenders of the values that made our society great so many years ago, we need a strong leader to unite our people in our crusade for justice and liberty. Alone we may fall, but united we shall emerge victorious. This is why we need you, miss…”

“Flutter...shy?” she whispered reluctantly.

“Butterfly, we would be honored to have you, our shining example of defiance and strength, as the supreme leader of our movement. Will you join us in our honorable fight, and lead us mighty few and all who are willing to follow us to a more perfect Equestria? For us, will you be the people’s mare?”

All eyes turned directly on her once again, expectantly awaiting her response. The previously rambunctious crowd went deathly silent for what seemed like an eternity. Fluttershy, trembling under the pressure, tried in vain to avoid eye contact with the admiring assembly of rebels as they looked on quizzically. Ace, whose not-quite-genuine smile was becoming more strained with each passing second, extended a hoof to the immobilized mare. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Um...I’d really rather not.”

The crowd instantly exploded in cheers and roaring cries of joy as Fluttershy, quite certain at this point that they hadn’t heard a single word she said, was lifted onto the shoulders of hundreds of rebels, all vigorously chanting “Butterfly” in unison. Marching toward the western barricade with the carrot flag waving high overhead, they readied themselves for the first attack on the outside world.

This was going to be an interesting day.

Comments

[ColdGoldLazarus]

Well, this is certainly interesting, and sadly only a slight exaggeration over reality.

[Aaronmaster2007]

I kept laughing when they called her Butterfly. It reminded me of the first episode when Twilight didn't get the name right. I want there to be more.