If These Strings Could Sing

by PonIver

2 - F - Woods

I’m up in the woods
I’m down on my mind
I’m building a still
To slow down the time

- Bon Iver

***

Everfree is full of secrets. That is, I guess that’s what I should call them. The entire forest is so ominous that most ponies don’t venture near it, myself included. Well, at least, I used to avoid it completely, but lately I find myself visiting quite frequently. This place, it speaks to me.

And I sing back.

These secrets, be they the creatures, the plants, or just the tranquil aura between the trees, all become quite obvious to anypony willing to enter the forest. Luckily, I still find solitude here, and the secrets remain. There are dozens of birds that never leave Everfree, and why should they? They have everything they need here. Food. Shelter. Freedom.

I especially enjoy this, and tend to fly more here than I do in my daily routine. My wings are weak, but my frame is light, and I make up for speed with maneuverability. I really don’t know what that means, but Rainbow said it to me once. I think it was a compliment, but her compliments often sound forced and sarcastic, like she only says it to keep up her end of a social contract.

It’s one of a dozen reasons why I come here. To escape. The judging. The gazes on everypony.

Still, I cut my flight short. I come here to unwind, and I still tire quickly in flight. The clearing is empty again today. That is no surprise to me. Visitors are seldom to the Everfree, and I do not question the critters for being cautious. Even though I’ve been here many times, I still haven’t earned their trust, but I have ways of remedying that.

“Ah~~~~”

I breathe deeply, and song comes naturally from within me. It’s just two notes that I waver back and forth on, but it is enough. It’s a call they’ve heard before, and those same two notes echo back to me in a whistle. Followed by another. And another. It isn’t long before a choir forms and emerges from the trees.

Dozens of birds surround me. Different colors. Different sounds. Some of them are full of flight and vigor, and the wings of others serve little purpose except to identify them as birds. A few small mammals tend to wander out, but they only come to observe the spectacle. They tend to be quiet creatures that only speak when they feel threatened, something I understand. I have my reasons to be quiet or shy, but sometimes there is a song inside me that needs to come out, and I can’t do it alone.

I don’t know what makes the song within me. I only know that I like what comes. It all sounds– nice. I wish I knew what makes it so, but the song comes naturally from me. It is not something I learned, but it is something I know I enjoy. The birds must agree, as they keep joining to be a part of what I come to share with them. They whistle back the notes in their own tones. Some shrill, some melodic, but all harmonious. Soon, I have assembled a whole bird sanctuary. A shelter of song.

My mind tends to run wild with emotions, galloping back and forth between fear and embarrassment. However, when I sing, all that goes away. I can feel myself becoming a blank slate, forgetting whatever troubles me. I let go of myself, and let the song swing me around as a marionette for its expression. I hover with the birds, and my hooves reach out, trying to draw the air in so I can sing more and more.

There is power behind the song, something I didn’t know I had. I let the music continue to use me and drift away. My body remains in the forest, a tool for expression, but my soul and spirit separate from it, and I become ethereal. I float higher and higher, into the clouds and beyond.

Earth ponies and unicorns have a huge misconception about clouds. They all think they are soft and fluffy, but that’s far from the truth. In my hooves, they feel like clay. Cold, lumpy, formless clay.

Maybe it has something to do with being a pegasus. It is in our instincts to fly gently enough that our touch can bend clouds to our whim. Still, there are those among our ranks that– suppress these instincts, or outright abuse them.

Maybe if a unicorn were to touch a cloud, they’d buck their hoof right through, obliterating the cloud into a mist. Try as I might, I can’t do that. The clouds feel firm to me, but shapeable. I push, and they push back, resisting.

I gather together several of the whitest clouds I can find, and start creating. Pulling and twisting tufts of floating foam around the sky. I’m not sure what exactly I’m making, but I keep playing with the mass in whatever way seems natural. The shapes are forming, and I continue to sculpt against the sky.

I pull away, and the shape comes into focus from afar. It doesn’t look like something I’ve seen before. It is long and curvy. Wild and untamed. It is less of an object, and more of a symbol, something to mark significance. What is it Twilight called these? Ampersands? No, that can’t be right. This, it’s far too– melodic.

I feel the cloud sculpture pulling away from me as I ponder its mysteries. As the distance grows, I realize it is not the cloud moving away, it is me. I am descending. The song is ending. I blink, and I am back in my body. Back in the clearing. The birds and critters are scattering towards the safety of the trees. My head darts back and forth, and I am trying to call them back. What did I do to upset them?

Then I see it. It is not me that has spooked these creatures. It’s– the symbol? That sculpture in the clouds, I see it on the edge of the clearing, but something is different. As the world around me comes into focus, I see that it is indeed the same shape and form, but residing on the flank of a mare standing on the border of the tree line. Did somepony follow me here?

She is staring at me.

Oh dear, why won’t she stop staring at me? Did I do something wrong? Wait why am I questioning myself? I was minding my own business. But– oh no. She was watching me?

“Eep.”

My every instinct is to run. Fly. Escape. But I am also paralyzed with fear. This stranger, she just continues to stand there, staring. I desperately wish that she would stop staring at me. My head darts around hoping there is something other than a nervous pegasus she could be looking at, but by now, I am alone in the clearing.

It happens when I’m nervous. Well, I’m always nervous, but still, that’s when it happens. My wings spread, my sight grows hazy, and before I know it—

***

I awaken in darkness, my closed eyes sealing away the sunlight. Something is prodding me in the side. With my eyes shut, I can only guess it is a hoof. I hear a voice, worried and speaking too fast for me to catch every word, but the constant repetition makes the words clearer.

“Pleasedon’tbedeadpleasedon’tbedeadpleasedon’tbedead. Please!”

My eyes twitch, and as I open them, I’m greeted by large circles of black. Surrounded in circles of pink. All within circles of white. Barely inches from my face, it comes into focus.

Those eyes.

I scream, but even at my loudest, it is lost on the wind.

My nerves—

***

I’m not sure if I passed out twice, or a hundred times, but this time the first thing I see is the cutie mark of the mare standing away from me. I have less trouble staying conscious since she isn’t looking at me, but still, the memory lingers in my mind of how she followed me.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says without facing me. “I was so worried that I killed you, but after the fifteenth fainting spell, I pieced the puzzle together.”

“Oh. Um. Sorry if I scared you,” I respond without thinking. Why am I apologizing? I was the one that was scared, and still here I am, apologizing for everything. I begin to wonder if a sixteenth collapse is coming on.

“No, no, no,” she tells me. She waves her hooves as she speaks, and almost turns around, but tries to correct herself. My fainting really must have upset her. “It’s my fault. It was so rude of me to spy on you. I really didn’t mean to, it’s just—,” even without her facing me, I can tell her eyes are darting around searching for the words to say.

“You heard?” Now I’m sure I’m going to faint again.

“Um, yeah. I wasn’t watching. I was listening. Your song, it was—,” she finally turns to face me, “Beautiful.”

The urge to faint suddenly fades from me. I am able to see her without fear. Well, that’s not completely true. There are still millions of fears running through my head at any given moment, but hearing that made me forget. Still, I am unable to return her gaze out of sheer embarrassment. I’m sure she means well, but I wasn’t singing to be heard.

I never understood what ponies meant by ‘awkward silence’. I think she hoped to elicit a response from me, but I don’t know how to respond to her compliment. She rubs a stick against the back of her mane, her face rising with color until it matches her eyes. I think the situation has become equally awkward for her. She flinches a bit, and seems to return to her senses, holding out her hoof to me. “Where are my manners? I’m Octavia.”

I return her gesture, but still find myself unable to look at her as I do so. “Um. Fluttershy.” My hoof is quite limp as she shakes it, and I can feel the rest of my body tremble with it.

“Charmed.” She smiles, but I can’t find it in me to do the same. “Tell me Fluttershy, what was that song you were singing?”

“I’m, um, not sure. Just something stuck in my head.” The song? I never really pay attention when I sing. How do I tell her that? Tell her the truth? That while I was singing, my mind was just daydreaming of shape-shifting clouds? Oh no. She’d think I’m crazy. She must already think I’m crazy. What kind of pony goes off into the forest just for music?

Wait—

What is she doing out in the Everfree?

“Um, if you don’t mind, what brings you to the Everfree? Are you lost? Or,” my worst fear, “did you follow me?”

Her eyes widen. Somehow, I get the feeling she’s more embarrassed than myself at this moment. “No! Oh goodness, no. I—,” she pushes the stick in her hoof towards me, “I came here for the same reason you did.”

It’s a nice stick, I guess, but I don’t know what it has to do with anything. “You– you sing too?”

She retracts her hoof with the stick in it. “Um, not exactly. It’s a bow.”

A bow? Oh dear. Does she think I was—? “Oh. Oh– no! How could you ever be so cruel?” I’m yelling as loud as my voice will allow at the stranger, but still, unable to evoke the rage I’m feeling at this moment. “Those poor creatures! That’s why they all ran away!”

I can see the guilt on her face, and my fears are confirmed. She pulls her weapon back behind her, as if she could hide her shame from me at this point. “I’m– sorry?”

“You should be! You big meanie!” Why must I sound like I’m teasing her? I’m genuinely furious at this point, but my lack of words isn’t helping. “I knew you couldn’t be from around here. How’d you like it if they came to your home and hunted you?”

“I didn’t mean to– wait.” She brandishes her death machine at me. Oh dear, I think I’m going to be sick. “Did you say hunt?”

“That’s right! And please don’t point that horrid thing at me.” I’m beginning to worry she plans on using it on me next.

She’s still speaking to me, but every other word sounds foreign to me. When she speaks about her “cadenza”, I can only imagine some awful dish full of fried squirrels and sautéed parakeets. I didn’t know ponies like this still existed in Equestria. I silently vow to myself to never leave Ponyville again.

“Don’t you get it?” she asks me. “My verismo? The rococo? Perfecting my portamento technique?” Each sentence just conjures up more images of suffering critters in my head. I back away slowly with each statement. I need to get away from this pony before she makes me her dinner. She sighs with frustration. Did I upset her? Wait, she’s the sick pony here. Why do I care if she’s upset?

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She gently sets the weapon on the grass and gallops back into the trees. This is my chance. I can escape before she returns. But, why am I not running?

I look at the sick tool on the ground. I wonder to myself how many innocent lives she has taken with it. I have dedicated my life to protecting these creatures, and she robs them of their freedom. No longer. I pick up the bow in my hooves. I’ve never used one, but it can’t be that difficult, right? Even if it makes me just as bad as her, I’m only doing this for the critters.

She has returned, and with some huge black device on her back. Oh dear. Why didn’t I run? I’ve brought a bow to a cannon fight. This is it. The end of Fluttershy. I regret everything. “Oh dear, please don’t hurt me.”

She cackles at me. “I’m not going to hurt you.” No, she’s just going to obliterate me.

“Then what?”

“If you give me back Mezzo, I’ll show you.” She points at the tool in my hooves, stained with the deaths of thousands of innocent creatures. I’m too scared to resist her at this point, and hoof it over to her. I close my eyes and await my fate. I only hope it comes quick and painless.

The time is slowing down. I can feel each beat as my heart tries to escape my chest. I hear the song they’ll play at my funeral. It sounds so– happy. Is that how my friends will remember me? Celebrating my death at the hooves of this monster? I can’t stand waiting any longer. I open my eyes to face my executioner, and the song keeps playing. I see it was not a vision of my funeral, but the song she was playing with her– weapon?

She sees that I’ve taken notice of her song, and stops playing. Between smiles and laughs she asks, “Do you like it? It’s not finished yet, but I only just started working on it.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Oh, I haven’t thought of a title yet,” she says with a shrug.

I shake my head and point at the shapely device in her hooves. “Um. I meant, what is that?”

She looked at it and then back at me. “Have you never seen a cello before? I find that hard to believe.”

“Um, I don’t think so. Should I?”

She shrugged again. I don’t think she believed me. “It’s just that, well, that song you were singing earlier. I’ve heard it before.” She looked longingly at her bow, and then played a few notes. It definitely sounded familiar, but I really never know what I’m singing. “I’ve just never heard it arranged for birds and pegasi. It gives it a whole new meaning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Again with the apologizing. Why can’t I think before I speak?

“No– Fluttershy, was it? It was beautiful. You’re very talented, but I can see you don’t realize it. It’s raw and unpolished, but gorgeous nonetheless.” She’s smiling, but I see something behind that statement and smile. I can’t take her words seriously. As I look at her, I can imagine her colorblind form erupting wings and prisms of light. One of a dozen reasons that I came here in the first place.

“You—,” I softly whisper.

“Hmm?” she looks at me curiously.

Why can’t I think before I speak?

“You remind me of a pegasus I know.”

Comments

[Cunt_Crusader]

flutterderp, much?

[PonIver]

927243
But she's still so adorable
And yea, once her mind gets going it goes until it breaks lol

[CircaCloud9]

Another good chapter You know how I feel about it, but I just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done.

[PonIver]

931387
It would be a mess without your help, but you know that, since you read the horrid first draft...

[FlutterShay]

MOAR! PLEASE! MOAR!