Live a Little

by Astrocity

Rain

I never would have thought that not thinking about things would be so difficult. Every time I tell myself not to think about Fluttershy, I end up doing the opposite.

Has she gotten better? Did the medicine work? I hope I got the right one.

She's in my head like a song I can't unhear. Her melodious voice wraps around my thoughts, filling my head with kind words. I try to bury my thoughts by focusing on the path in front of me, but all it can afford is a shallow grave before those thoughts resurface again.

Small plants sprout on the ground by my hooves—untamed and wild. Further into the woods, the path grows darker, despite the time of day. Branches belonging to dead trees stick out like frozen limbs, reaching out to grab unsuspecting strangers. I pass through these branches unperturbed. Wooden claws comb through my mane and coat. The feeling is all too familiar from my lonely days wandering, almost as if it’s welcoming me back.

I wonder if I should have left the Everfree Forest at all.

Ahead, there is a clearing with very few trees.

Circling the open area, I choose a tree by the edge to lean on and just sit there, letting the tree bark dig into my back and the grass prick at my bottom. I dump the contents of my saddlebags in front of me. A single book falls in front of me to an open page. I know my reading has improved. Surely, I can read it now.

So, I stare at the page.

And stare.

And stare…

And I can't get past the first line.

The words don't come to me even with my face so close to it. Its paper skin, covered in dark black blood, touches my face, smelling of old flowers and sunbaked pages. There are words, but it's all gibberish.

This isn't fair. We were both abandoned in the Everfree Forest. I thought this book would be able to tell me the secrets of my past. I thought I had changed. My face twists into a grimace, and I hurl the thing away, watching it sail far into the bushes. My head falls back against the tree so that I'm staring up at the cloudy sky.

Haven't I been through enough? What more do I need to do? What's wrong with me?

I never had to think about these things before.

It was much simpler back then. That pony I was before—spending days wandering around the Everfree like some dumb animal—felt like ages ago. I went from talking like a foal to saying complete sentences. Back then, thoughts came out like droplets from a leaky faucet. Now that I have these introspective thoughts, it's hard to go back to the way things were.

But maybe deep down, it's because I don't want to.

A wave of melancholy washes over me, pulling out groan from the depths of my soul. It stretches out, reverberating in my throat and leaving my lips with part of my soul. Just as suddenly as it came out, it stops, and I am left still feeling all the same about my current situation.

This is all too confusing.

Right now I need somebody to talk to, but there's not a single soul in sight. I dig deep into myself, hoping for the one pony who has a better idea of me than even I do.

"Are you there, Fluttershy? It’s me, Goldie," I say out loud.

I sit thoughtfully, waiting for a reply to come to me in my desperate time.

"Can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

My question is met with silence. The voice I've grown so used to hearing doesn't answer. A deep sense of despair fills me, clutching at my insides. What does it say about me when I'm turning to the voice in my head for answers and even it doesn't have anything to say?

My head lolls forward like a wilted flower as I sit there, unsure of what to make of things anymore. What else is there to do?

I loosen the grip on my consciousness and let my mind wander.

~~~~~~~

I dreamt a little, surprisingly.

Did you know I can dream, Fluttershy?

I dreamt that I wasn’t the only zombie in the world. Every pony in the world was a zombie. There were the awkward gaits and the wordless moans. Sickly complexions and endless stares. Everyone was a zombie with all the complications of being dead. They were like how I was when I first came to Ponyville.

It was awful.

Even though everyone was like me, I felt even more alone than when everyone was alive. No one talked like they used to. A solemn expression was etched on every pony’s face where once was a smile. Familiar faces looked almost unrecognizable. Even bumping shoulders with someone hardly elicits a response anymore. No more “hellos” and “goodbyes”. Ambition and drive disappeared. Emotions decomposed until there was nothing left.

The one pony who didn't show up in my dream was Fluttershy. If she had shown up acting like how I once was, I wouldn't know how I would handle that, let alone her death.

No one deserves this, least of all her. If anyone should be dead and buried, it should be me. I hurt ponies. I mess things up. I don't fit in with living ponies.

But life isn't always fair.

~~~~~~~

I don't know how long I've been like this.

Time seems to blur altogether. In all that time, I haven't moved. The untapped wild has grown accustomed to my presence. Birds have used my head as a perch to roost on. Small animals have crawled over me as if I was part of the tree.

These are my new neighbors, I suppose.

A squirrel climbs on me as if I'm part of the tree trunk. Its paws are on my face. The squirrel barely registers that I'm a pony, even when we are staring at each other eye to eye.

A twig snaps in the background, but it may as well have been thunder, shocking the life back into me. The animals scramble away at the sound. It might be one of the larger creatures that lurk the forest. I watch intensely in the direction of the snapping twig, unsure of what I’m going to do once it shows up.

Do I run? Or do I let myself become someone's next meal?

The bushes across the clearing shake and stir, accompanied by the grunts of a struggling pony.

“Consarnit!”

A small yellow body throws itself past the bushes and lands in front of me in an upside down heap. She jolts at first glance at me but relaxes as she slowly rights herself.

“Goldie, is that you?”

I blink my dry eyes. After a long uncomfortable silence, I finally move my stiff neck to get a better look at her, eliciting a series of cracks—my first movement in who knows how long. I imagine it would be unsettling for a child to find a corpse in the woods.

It's a good thing she doesn't see me like that at all.

The filly relaxes as soon as she sees me move. “It is you! Golly, you have no idea how glad I am to find somepony. What are ya doin’ way out here?”

Dry air escapes my lips as I try and fail to form words. I can practically hear the weary muscles in my jaw growing taut as they try to work my mouth.

She steps closer to me. "Are you okay? You seem a little under the weather."

I nod, struggling to sound normal with my raspy voice. "Just...fine," the words manage to come out.

She looks around and strolls around the clearing. The weight of her saddlebags shift around her sides as she moves. “Do you know the way back? I got lost myself on the way back from Zecora’s. She's a zebra that lives around here.”

I shake my head.

She lets out a disheartened “Oh” before stopping in front of me. There is a fleeting moment of disappointment on her face before it disappears. She smiles at me. “Haven't seen you in a while. How come you're all the way out here?”

I shrug.

“Did ya get lost too?” she asks.

I nod after a moment’s hesitation.

She puts a comforting hoof around my withers. “Hey, look on the bright side! At least we found each other.”

Just then, the Everfree Forest reminds us of its untamed nature with its uncontrollable weather as dark wet spots begin forming on the soil.

I stand onto all fours and step forward into the clearing. As I look up at the gray sky, something wet taps me between the eyes followed by more wet drops, confirming my suspicions.

The little filly winces when a raindrop taps her on the nose. “Gah! Just our luck! It's raining!”

Then, it pours, as if a pegasus just bucked a heavy rain cloud over us. But, there's no one above us to whom we can ask for directions because this is the Everfree.

“We gotta find a place to stay dry," she says as she looks around. Even being surrounded by trees, we aren’t protected from the sudden downpour. The rain slides off the leaves in dribbles, soaking our manes as we stand under them.

We briskly trot through the forest, looking for better cover from the rain. We must have gone to a part of the Everfree I've never been before. In an open area, there lies a castle. Abandoned. Dilapidated. Forgotten. An eerie landmark in the untouched woods. It stands out in the forest like a scab on the land.

A shaky bridge stands between the castle and us. I follow after Apple Bloom as she takes the lead of crossing it. The wood creaks with each step. Halfway through, one of the brittle planks gives under me, and my hoof plows right through as I stare at the gorging ravine below. I imagine this would be scarier to Apple Bloom, but she doesn't notice and continues on undeterred.

I pull myself up and hurry along.

When we've crossed the bridge, we make it to the castle doors as daylight begins to wane. The doors give away as I push. Creaky hinges echo in the great hall, waking up whatever ghosts slumbered in these walls.

We decide to settle near the entrance. Most of the roof is gone now. A big gaping hole opens much of the ceiling to the sky. The parts of the castle that remain are the ones being held by stubborn support beams and arches that stood against the test of time.

“This place gives me the creeps. But it's better than being out there at least," Apple Bloom says before sneezing. "Let me see if I can find a blanket or something."

I slump against the wall and stare at the rain coming down while Apple Bloom explores the castle. I can't help but think about how I usually spend my rainy days just sitting while it pours. Mud is caked to the bottom of my hooves. Dirt mixes with rainwater, causing my cream coat to take on a darker shade. Strands of my hair cling together and drip water from the golden ends. I never thought to keep up appearances, but Fluttershy would probably scold me to take better care of myself.

Apple Bloom comes back to sit with me. She's brought one of the torn tapestries and is using it as a blanket. She smiles as she pulls out a box of matches and a dusty, old lantern.

"Look what I found!"

Under normal circumstances, this would be the point where a responsible adult intervenes to keep the filly from playing with matches. But, this isn't a normal circumstance, and I am barely responsible enough to care for myself, let alone others.

She pulls out one of the matches and strikes it against the striker. The match bursts into flames, lighting the walls and our faces in an amber glow. After lighting the lantern and blowing out the match, she shines the light around the room.

The light reveals just how abandoned the place is. Motes of dust float around us after our disturbance. The pitter-patter of rain echoes against the walls as they enter the open hole in the collapsed ceiling. All the windows are shattered. I imagine this place looked more majestic before whatever violence took place. Now, only ghosts haunt the memories of the castle.

Apple Bloom sits beside me, setting the lantern in front of us. "Wish we had a real fire going. This place ain't got a lot of dry wood to burn," she says.

She nestles herself close to me, still wet and shivering. I’m probably just as cold, if not colder, than her. I wonder if she notices that or how I’m not shivering at all. The silence between us lasts only for a few minutes until Apple Bloom picks up the conversation again.

"So..." she begins, "who's Bluebell?"

I give her a questioning look at the randomness of her topic of choice. She reaches into her saddlebag before revealing a very familiar book.

“Um, I think you dropped this earlier,” she says as she places the book in my hooves.

I stare at her and then at the book, rolling the name around my head.

“I didn't mean to peek! It kinda just fell open in front of me. The name was on the front page." She glances at me apologetically. "Sorry."

Opening the book to the front page, I stare in stunned astonishment and whisper to myself, "Bluebell?"

Is that who I am? For a while now, I’ve been hanging onto the possibility that this book could be mine and that whatever was written inside could provide insight into my past. I flip to another page, and to my surprise, lines are starting to become letters—words.

There is a single sentence on one page.

I try to sound out the words, just like how Spike taught me. "Lu… Lo… Love…"

"What are you…?" she begins to ask, but I continue without stopping.

My eyes trace the contours of each letter. Each syllable that comes out of my mouth is dragged from the dark depths of my mind. It is a monumental effort to say each word, but I hang onto whatever concentration I can muster.

"Love can be found..." I say, surprised by my own voice. "In… In people who..."

I am panting, out of breath. It’s like running a marathon. The mental hurdles I'm going through are the hardest I’ve ever had to overcome. I look at Apple Bloom and try once more. This time, I'm not going to stutter through these important words.

“Love can be found in the people who taught us to love,” I say finally.

Apple Bloom smiles. “That sounds beautiful, Goldie.”

I smile.

It is beautiful. These words I can now read. These words that have been trying to reach me. Who knows how long these words have waited, waiting for someone to read them?

"I don't know who Bluebell is," I finally answer Apple Bloom. "But… I want to know who she is."

I flip the page, and Apple Bloom joins me in admiring the book's contents. As we browse through the flower collection in the book, a photo falls out from between the pages. It's a picture of a young Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. I must have forgotten it after breaking the photo frame.

"Hey, that's Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. I wonder what that's doing in there."

I stare at the picture for a long time before closing the book and stowing it in my bag. My private talk with Rainbow Dash surfaces in my memory, and I feel ashamed of what she might think of me if she knew the reason I left Ponyville.

"You should get some rest," I tell Apple Bloom.

I thought she would object to the idea of resting not long after the sun had set, but she surprised me. "Sure, Goldie," she says, letting out a yawn. She must have had a long day. “What about you?”

“I’ll keep watch,” I answer her.

She tries to get as comfortable as a pony could possibly get on the floor with nothing but a torn tapestry to keep her warm. “It’ll only be a quick nap, Goldie,” she says.

When she grows silent with only the sound of her breathing, I turn my attention outside, and like clockwork, Fluttershy saunters into my thoughts...

~~~~~~~

I stare outside for a very long time.

It must have been long because the rain had stopped and the sky had darkened to night.

Turning around, I notice Apple Bloom wasn’t asleep anymore. The tapestry is discarded on the floor. She had crept away without my notice and was now sitting in the center of the castle below the open ceiling.

There was a break in the clouds, allowing the stars and moon to shine.

I sit next to Apple Bloom on the damp ground, watching her stare at the sky. She is uncharacteristically quiet when I approach her.

It's up to me to break the silence.

"What are you doing?" I ask her.

She glances at me but continues looking at whatever she’s looking at. “Sorry, I didn’t tell you when I woke up,” she says. She fidgets in her spot. “I’m just thinking about something.”

“About?” I ask.

She hesitates, and I wonder if I had overstepped the bounds of our friendship.

“My Ma and Pa,” she answers. Her amber eyes look into mine briefly, but I can tell there is a hidden sadness behind them. “Whenever I think about Ma and Pa, I want to be alone to see the stars. You don’t get this kinda sky in the city, Applejack says.”

I nod in agreement, being well familiar with the night's sky from spending night after night without a roof over my head.

“Princess Luna always makes the stars so pretty.” At that moment, two shooting stars grace the sky. “One time, I spent a whole night under the stars. Applejack was mighty upset the next day.”

My eyes focus on her for a while. A strange quietness falls on us as she stares up. “Were you thinking about them that night?” I asked. “Your parents?”

She only gave a slow nod of her head.

I stare up, trying to see what she's seeing.

How is it supposed to feel? To miss someone everyday, waking up each morning knowing you will never see them again?

A sudden realization strikes me.

Oh. I suppose I did that to Fluttershy. There is an awful feeling inside me, like a heavy weight pulling my heart. I think I've made a terrible mistake.

“What were your parents like?” I ask.

She solemnly shakes her head, but she doesn’t cry. “I can’t remember. I was too little to remember,” she says. “I can’t talk about it with Applejack or Big Mac or Granny. They’d get sad.”

As she digs a groove in the dirt in front of her, I contemplate my next choice of words. What do I say to a child who is too troubled to speak of her concerns? This can’t be healthy for her, and I know I shouldn’t be the one to talk to her about it.

“I think you should talk to them,” I tell her. “Talking about them will keep your parents alive in their memories.” I put a tentative hoof around her shoulders. “And they would want you to be a part of remembering them.”

She nods quietly, trying to rub at her eyes, but her eyes only grow red from where her tears had once been.

I allow myself a small grin. “You are very lucky, Apple Bloom. You are surrounded by ponies who care about you.”

She looks at me warmly and gets in one last sniffle.

“You're right," she says. "I've still got my friends and family. Even lost in a forest, I've got a friend."

I wonder what kind of face I'm making now. Surprised at the realization that I'm not alone anymore? Or a teary smile in being called a friend by someone else?

Most likely, I'm still wearing a stone-faced expression, but I like to imagine I'm making these faces.

Apple Bloom curls beside me, and my eyes stare at the stars while my mind fills with the thought of other ponies in Ponyville.

I think one of them is waiting for me.

~~~~~~~

An overcast day greets our morning. The weather has been following its own unplanned schedule, switching between rain and the occasional break in the clouds. I imagine most ponies wouldn't like the unpredictable nature of the Everfree Forest, but I think it's refreshing. After all, the plants and animals don't seem to mind. Even weak little flowers can thrive in the wild.

The air smells like wet grass and damp leaves, slick from the rainfall. Earthy. Fresh. I imagine it's what the world smelled like when it was new.

Beside me, Apple Bloom walks grouchily, probably from having to sleep on the cold, hard floor instead of a soft bed. "It feels like we're going in circles!"

Her stomach rumbles.

"I need a break," she says.

Hunger gets to the little filly as she starts looking around before settling on the grass in front of her. She bites a mouthful and chews on it for a bit before swallowing with a disgusted look on her face.

"Blegh! It’s so bitter! I wish we had some real food right about now."

We don't have any food or water, and I’m a little ashamed that I didn’t find something for her to eat. I would have to get Apple Bloom home quick. I can last a very long time without eating and drinking, but I don't think it holds the same for her.

So caught am I in thinking of how to get Apple Bloom home, I barely notice all the noise in the forest has stopped.

"What's wrong, Goldie?" she asks. "Is it about the grass? Look, I know it ain't proper and all, but I'm hungry here."

My hoof quickly covers her mouth. She lets out a muffled protest but stops at noticing my expression. The seriousness of my face reflects in her fearful eyes.

We stand as still as statues. I can feel Apple Bloom tremble as I hold her close to me. I feel as her heart pounds against her chest cavity as if trying to break free to escape this terrifying atmosphere.

Snap!

The broken branch acts as a signal for the predatory game. A manticore jumps out of hiding from a bush and races in our direction.

As I stand between the shrieking filly and the manticore, I can’t help but contemplate my actions.

Standing face to face with an oversized cat with an equally oversized stinger for a tail, I wonder if this is the right thing to do. The morality of saving another life and the burden of responsibility weighs on my mind. By the time I realize the ramifications and danger of my heroism, I’m already staring down the gullet of my poor choices and past mistakes.

Before I can even shout for Apple Bloom to run, a claw tears across my throat like paper, shredding my next word into ribbons.

Another swipe from a large paw bats me aside like a ball of yarn, sending me flying into a tree. There is a snap of broken bones and shattering of ribs. With the wind knocked out of me, my attempts to stand are feeble at best. In the distance, I hear the horrified cries of a filly. She is running for her life away from the manticore, while all I can do is watch her.

I don't know how dying is supposed to work. It's more or less why I am the way I am. The brain shuts down as organs stop working. The last thing to go are the memories and the part that makes me who I am. After that I am nothing, given enough time for nature to take its course.

But somehow, I'm still here.

And to me, that seems like a mistake because it's wrong and shouldn't be like that.

So why am I here? Have I been brought back for the sole purpose of saving this filly?

Something burns inside of me, glowing hot like molten metal. It's anger, but it's different from before. It lacks the apathy I had when I tore into those stallions.

In front of my eyes is a helpless pony, and more than ever, I want to help her.

This isn't about revenge or hatred. It's the need to protect the ponies I love and the anger of being helpless. This is a change, a necessity against the complacency of my own indifference.

“Goldie!”

Her shrill cries reach my ears again. My jumble of thoughts turns into resolve, and I start hobbling over to Apple Bloom.

I quickly close the distance as my legs carry me with the sole intent of saving that filly. Hooves leap off the dirt as I switch to a gallop, and for a brief moment, I am a living thing. I am a filly in her youth, full of heart-pounding, earthshaking vibrancy. The beat of my hooves thump like the beat of a heart. Each step shaves off another year on my weary, worn-out muscles.

Where does this energy come from that’s spurring me forward? Is it the strength to put kindness for another pony into action?

My legs kick like powerful springs as I jump onto the manticore’s back, and I sink my teeth into its neck before it could get closer to Apple Bloom—teeth that aren't made for tearing into flesh. But that's fine, as long as I have its attention.

The manticore rears up and swings wildly around. I hold on as long as I can until it bucks forward and throws me to the ground between its two front paws.

I roll to the side as a scorpion stinger jabs at the ground where I was lying. I suddenly have to put up all my hooves as a fanged maw lunges for my throat. My legs are pressed against its own throat as it tries to take a bite out of me.

Even with my throat clawed out, I still manage to speak a few raspy words. "You can't...have...her."

A glob of saliva pools onto my neck as it pushes closer. Even earth pony strength can't keep up with a manticore for long as I fight against the pressure.

“Get off her, ya oversized cat!”

The manticore gives a pained roar as it reels back with its eyes closed. A couple more rocks come sailing into its face before Apple Bloom runs up to me and begins desperately dragging my body out from underneath the beast.

“Get up, Goldie! Get up!” she shouts.

For once, my body does what I tell it to do, and we gallop through the forest as fast as we can without losing each other. The manticore barely gives us a minute before it starts its chase.

I can hear the shrubbery behind us crunch under its enormous paws as it catches up.

“There! I think that's the way out!” Apple Bloom points out.

Up ahead, there is a clearing in the forest, devoid of any trees. But as we draw closer, I realize how wrong Apple Bloom was when the ground just ended and opened up to a large ravine.

A giant maw nearly closes on us. Only a few hairs of my tail are caught in its teeth.

The grass is still damp from the earlier shower. While Apple Bloom tries to stop herself, I run forward instead and scoop the filly in my hooves. The slick mud sends us flying over the edge away from the manticore. There is a momentary feeling of weightlessness—a blissful feeling in my chest that makes me feel lighter than air as the wind whips through my mane. In this moment, this will be the closest I will be to being a pegasus with nothing but air between me and the earth.

Of course, it doesn't last very long.

I hold Apple Bloom close to my chest and brace for the impact. Something in my back makes a sickening snap against a rock jutting out of the wall. We tumble down a slope while I desperately try to cushion the blows with my body. My head cracks on a boulder. A rock digs into my flank. All the while, I am cradling this small body to my chest.

We roll to a stop at the bottom of the ravine where a small stream trickles by.

Wrapped in my hooves, she lies with eyes closed. All I can think of is her, hoping she is still alive. I don’t even allow myself to move as I wait for a sign.

Then, she stirs.

Her eyelids open slowly, revealing amber eyes. “Goldie…?” she whispers.

I don’t have the strength to say anything, so I nod, pressing my chin down on her bow.

“Are we dead?”

I think about it for a moment before finally shaking my head, despite my half-truth.

She trembles against me, and I hear the sniffles of a frightened child after a terrifying experience. There are small cuts on her cheeks and on her legs. Small red beads begin to form on the cuts of her face and stain the fur surrounding it. She looks like she fell off a scooter than falling off a cliff.

I do the first thing that comes to my mind and just brush a hoof across her back until she settles down.

Is this where kindness comes from? To help someone when they need it?

When enough time has passed for her trembling to stop, she turns her head to look at the sky and at the gorge we fell into.

“Lansakes! We fell all the way there?” she says, staring at the cliffside we came from. “We sure are lucky to survive.”

Just hearing her voice is a relief, but we’re not out of the woods yet. Until she is with her family, I won't let anything happen to her.

“Goldie,” she says. “Goldie, you're kinda hurting me.”

I didn’t even realize that I was squeezing her or that I hadn’t even let go since we fell. A quick glance around shows that the manticore didn't follow us down. My hooves tentatively loosen their grip.

Apple Bloom paces around the area, stepping over the stream as she contemplates. “Any idea how to get back home?”

As I stand up, I finally notice all the abuse my body has taken. Four angry gashes mark the right side of my body. Rocks have embedded themselves into my skin. There is the sound of a crack whenever my body moves a certain way. Of course, despite my body being beaten like a pinata, there is no fountain of blood to complete the gory mess. As for appearances, it can be fixed with a few stitches, but I have neither the tools nor the skills to do it. Even then, there is nothing that can be done for the inside.

While Apple Bloom’s eyes are wandering elsewhere, I adjust my saddlebags to hide the more grievous-looking wounds. But they can't hide the most obvious injury.

When Apple Bloom turns to look at me, her eyes lock onto my neck where the flesh has been cut—an open wound where the blood doesn't even dribble. She grows sickly pale at the sight of it.

"Goldie, your throat! Oh my gosh! Does it hurt?" Her sentences become a jumble of words as she starts bawling and hyperventilating. Despite putting up so much bravery, she's still just a little filly, and to her, she probably thinks I'm dying. Death can be very scary to children. She shouldn't have to see this at her age.

I place a gentle hoof under her chin and bring her eyes up to mine.

"Hey," I say raspily. "I'm fine."

She's trying hard to wipe the tears from her eyes, but it makes her face more of a mess.

"B-But… Your neck," she manages to say between breaths, but I silence her with a hoof.

"I can't die," I whisper. "Not until...I get you home."

She's speechless at first. Her face goes through many emotions—shock, confusion, before finally settling on awe.

"H-How?" she asks.

I shrug. "I don't know."

She finally gains control of her breathing and manages to calm down some. Her eyes glance at my eyes before falling on the wound.

"Gosh… So you really can't die..."

She reaches for her mane and undos her bow. I'm not sure what she's doing until she ties it over the gash on my throat, not caring that it's touching the pink cloth. When she's done, I'm left with a nice little bow on my neck.

"There. Much better," she says. "Sorta."

I touch the fabric at my neck and give a small grin.

When I finally stand up, I assess our options. The walls are too steep to climb. The only thing to do was go down the ravine until we find a way out.

“Let’s go,” I say. I don’t want to stick around to see how desperate the manticore is to follow us down here.

We walk in silence. Every few minutes, I check on the stream and glance at the clouds above us. Apple Bloom looks as if she’s about to nod off.

I nose under her barrel and lay her on my back. “Rest,” I say.

She doesn’t resist as I carry her. She rests her head on the back of my neck. As she does, a drop of water falls on my nose. It’s starting to rain again.

“Somebody's going to find us, right?” she asks.

I can only give a noncommittal grunt. I don’t even know if anyone knows we’re out here. But I have to keep her from worrying. In these times, someone has to be the optimist. “Everything will be…alright.”

As time marches on, the rain grows heavier, and we are exhausted, especially me. I feel like my body has reached its limit. My muscles are starting to stiffen as my movements grow more rigid. Are these the overdue signs of rigor mortis finally setting in?

Regardless, I push forward.

With all the rain, it doesn’t take long until my hooves begin to slosh in water. The stream has widened considerably as rain gathers in the ravine’s open mouth. Mud gathers on my coat with my hooves submerged in the muddy water.

This isn’t good.

I quicken my pace. We have to get out of here.

Debris, tree branches and loose soil pass by us. The water is already up to my back, and Apple Bloom is using my head to keep above the water. If she had still been walking beside me, she would already be underwater.

“We gotta get outta here! The water’s picking up!” she shouts with growing urgency.

I had just gotten to the side of the ravine when a sudden rush of water hits us without warning. Apple Bloom hangs on tight to my head, while I have to crane my neck up to keep my face from being submerged. “Hurry!” she shouts.

The flood worsens as another wave of watery debris washes over us. The current is strong enough to throw Apple Bloom off her balance and carry her down.

“Apple Bloom!” I shout.

I kick against the wall and let the current propel me in the direction of the filly.

I will not let her be taken. I will not let her be swallowed up by the giant maw of the Everfree.

My head goes underwater, and I am thrashing wildly, not knowing which way is up. I have to will myself to kick my legs to tread water. With every resurfacing, I call for the filly. One of those calls is answered by a cry for help.

“Goldie!”

Close by, I see her red mane. Before I lose sight of it, I head towards it as fast as I can and wrap a hoof around her chest. I barely manage to get her face above the water. A large branch floats by close enough for me to hold onto while carrying Apple Bloom. I paddle us to a depression in the walls of the ravine where a hill meets the forest.

I crawl up the hillside, sopping wet and covered head to hoof in mud with an equally dirty filly hanging over my withers. I settle her gently on the ground away from the rushing water and check on her.

She’s not moving. On closer inspection with my ear near her mouth, the horrifying realization strikes me when she’s not breathing. Alone in a forest with no one around and no direction to the nearest hospital, the situation is bleak. This filly’s life hangs in my hooves.

My hooves are on the filly’s chest, desperately pumping life back into her. After a minute, I tilt her head up and blow life-giving air through her lips. I keep repeating the process, hanging tightly onto the hope that I can save a single filly’s life.

There's water in my eyes. I wipe a hoof across my eyes to clear the rain. My vision blurs like a distorted spyglass. A strangled sound escapes my throat as I shiver uncontrollably.

I give her one last breath, filling her lungs to their fullest. I hang tightly onto the desire to save this girl. A young girl shouldn't have to die while I keep living in self-pity, and a loving family shouldn't have to wake up not knowing what happened to their little lost Apple. Can't you see that I want this?

As the last of my breath leaves my lips and into hers, I feel it—the slightest movement.

Relief washes over me instantly as her body starts racking with coughs, and she expels whatever water was inside.

It's one thing for my undead life to end. But I would never stand to see someone else's life pass away in front of my eyes. The thought of how different things could be if I hadn't resuscitated this filly plays in my mind over and over...

The dark thought cuts short. A pair of hooves wrap around my withers as Apple Bloom hangs with a loose grip around my neck.

“Goldie…” she croaks.

I wrap my hooves around Apple Bloom and hold her against me.

"I’ve got you," I say to her. “Everything’ll be alright.”

She weakly tugs on my mane to get my attention. "Goldie," she says again. "I saw an angel."

I look over Apple Bloom, hoping there wasn't a serious injury to her head. Her eyes are focused on me, and there's a faint smile on her face.

"I saw one. She stood over your shoulder,” she says. “Isn’t that great? It means you have someone watching over you."

"No more talking," I tell her. "Just rest now."

Apple Bloom's words have set me on edge. I'm worried there's something seriously wrong with her. I have to find help.

I carefully lift her onto my back and quickly trot along the stream. By some stroke of luck, I manage to pick the right direction. The forest's trees eventually become something more familiar.

I see apple trees, rows of them.

In the darkness, a beam of light cuts through the evening like a beacon. It's a ray of hope coming from the window of a farmhouse.

Inside, worried voices talk amongst each other. One in particular is louder than the rest.

“I ain't got time to rest, Big Mac! I need to go back out there to look for her!" There is the hasty rhythm of hooves on wood, like someone is pacing in circles. "Maybe I should stop by Rarity's place again and see if she found Apple Bloom."

Standing hesitantly at the door, I lay the filly gently by the entrance and give three firm knocks before bolting behind an apple tree. I barely make it before someone answers the door.

The light of the farm house reaches for the tree I'm hiding behind.

"Hello?"

The door swings open on creaky hinges, and I watch Applejack gaze around the dark orchard before it falls on the filly.

“Apple Bloom!” Applejack cries out. “Big Mac! Help me get her inside! I gotta get a doctor!”

She takes another look around the orchard. Dark circles ring her eyes, and under closer scrutiny, her appearance looks frazzled as if she's been running all day. Had she stayed up since yesterday looking for Apple Bloom? I press by back against the tree I'm hiding behind. Did she see me?

Applejack pauses for a moment before shaking her head and running off towards the town’s hospital.

I stare at the farmhouse a while longer before ambling away.

Four tired legs gyrate me forward like a machine, while my mind reflects on past events. It doesn’t take long for another voice to join those thoughts:

Scary, isn't it? This is how the rest of the world lives, yet everyone still manages to find a way to smile even though their next day could be their last. Your kindness and courage saved that girl so that she can smile another day. You should be proud about that.

I sigh. I probably left emotional scars on her, I think to myself.

The voice in my head is firm but kind.

Nobody is perfect, Goldie.

There is silence between us in the lull of our conversation. Of course, now the voice in my head decides to be chatty.

You've learned to open your heart to others. You have ponies who love you back. But what does it all mean if you can't love yourself? she asks.

I can almost imagine the look of motherly disappointment coming from her as she chastises me—Fluttershy, wearing a single blue flower behind her ear and shaking her head with a tsk.

I'm watching you take steps towards finding yourself. Each step is longer and more purposeful. You're already making leaps and bounds. Soon, nothing will ever hold you down.

You really think I can do all that? I ask the Fluttershy look-alike.

The voice in my head flashes a knowing grin.

You just have to be kind to others and more importantly be kind to yourself. You can start with the girl you're always thinking about.

I nod to myself. "Right…"

By the time I realize my surroundings, I already find myself at Fluttershy’s cottage again. It's all very familiar, like my first day in Ponyville.

A peek inside shows a scene I haven't been expecting. Fluttershy lies curled on the couch I used to sleep on. A quilt wraps around her body. On the table, there is a bowl of soup that has probably long gone cold and a first aid kit. Had she been waiting for me?

I slump on her doorstep, formulating an apology.

Outside Fluttershy's house, I stare at nothing in particular. My eyes stare straight ahead of me towards an unimaginable future, where I am finally comfortable with myself. I stare until my eyes grow heavy.

A gentle nudge stirs me from my rest.

There she is, wrapped in a quilt and standing before me. The pony who paints the inner walls of my skull like a mural. A martyr for kindness and all the right things she stands for.

Fluttershy smiles. “Welcome home."

I stand up slowly to meet her eyes. My mouth opens and closes trying to decide the right words to say before settling on, "I'm sorry."

"Goldie…" she begins, but I'm not finished.

“I’m sorry for making you worry," I say with absolute clarity, no longer held back by hesitation. "It was wrong of me to run off like that."

She holds my head against her chest while brushing a hoof over my withers. I can feel her initial hesitancy when her hoof finds the claw marks that peek behind the bow on my neck, but her touch becomes more gentle and caring.

"It’s alright,” she says, barely above a whisper. "It's alright, Goldie."

I rest my face against her, letting her heartbeat resonate within me. It's in my ears, it's in my cheeks, and I want it to live with me. Its rhythm echoes in my silent chamber of a body. But it's not mine to have. I haven't deserved it.

I gently push her away at arms length, shaking my head. "What I did back then—with those ponies—I did because I was selfish. Because I wanted to be a friend that could protect you." She looks at me with tired, teary eyes. “I want to live, not just for me, but for you, Fluttershy. So please... Don't hate me.”

"Goldie…" She lets a tear drop, but she smiles nevertheless. "I would never hate you. You're a good person through and through."

I only nod, exhausted of all the words I can possibly say right now.

"Also," she continues, "thank you for always thinking of me, Goldie." She wraps me in a bone-crushing hug, shifting my broken ribs and causing them to make an unpleasant sound.

Fluttershy squeaks sheepishly and lets go immediately.

"Sorry!" she apologizes. "We should get you inside."

She ushers me in, coaxing me towards the couch and slipping off the saddlebags that have miraculously stayed on me.

When I have settled into my usual seat, she starts unpacking the first aid kit. “It’s my turn to take care of you. So just rest," she says.

She leaves the room to get some warm water to clean me up.

I glance out the window, where among the inky darkness lies a forest where few seldom go. The Everfree is a thing of mystery. One day you can be walking in the Everfree, the next it could be trying to swallow you up. It is uncaring and merciless, much like many of the creatures that live there. After spending so long in Ponyville, perhaps I don’t belong to the Everfree anymore.

As I sit in Fluttershy's home thinking about the ponies in my life, my mind focuses on what that book said: "Love can be found in the people who taught us to love." I wonder if I was the one to come up with that quote in a life long forgotten.

I shift comfortably on the sofa while glancing at the stacks of papers and books on her coffee table. But then, something catches my eyes. There is a newspaper lying on top of one of the stacks. The words are now clear and coherent, no longer a jumble of meaningless lines. Among the articles of Equestrian news, there is a list of ponies with a description and a picture for each of them.

There is a young pegasus who is hazelnut brown with even darker shade for her mane. A white diamond mark rests between her eyes. Amber eyes like Apple Bloom's. A timid smile adorns her face. A blue flower sits behind one of her ears.

Her name is Bluebell.

And I'm reading the obituaries.

Author's Note:

This has been a very busy year.

Towards the end of last year, I took a break from writing and had this chapter on Drive, which had been waiting to be edited. Then over the course of the last few months, I picked it up again to review what I wrote, which led to many changes and edits. There's still some parts I'm not 100% satisfied with but I think it hit a certain acceptance level.

Comments

[xoid]

While I am incredibly glad to see another chapter of this I get the sinking feeling that the story is almost over.

[dark-pony]

I'm glad this story is back. And a pretty intense and emotional chapter it was.

[Kit the Kite]

Oh it’s delightful to see more of this. Such mystery and intrigue! I hope we find out more about our mysterious protagonist

[Windy Breeze]

A lot of close calls for both Apple Bloom and Goldie. Glad to know they got back to Ponyville and reunite with the others. I'm also just as glad to get a new chapter, this was easily one of my most favorite fics to read.

Since the author already established Goldie as an earth pony mare with cream coat, blue eyes, and yellow mane, perhaps Bluebelle may be someone who knew her; a friend. Whoever she is, there is no doubt Bluebelle holds to key to Goldie's true identity.

I decided to make a Pony Town depiction of Goldie. It's nothing amazing but I hope you all like it.

media.discordapp.net/attachments/953173855587954689/1102652138389250068/pony_town_savedMay2202313939a.m..png

[Maestroanticuado2022]

hello does anyone know when this story will come back