Lost and Found

by Cloudy Skies

8. Lost

Her voice grated. Applejack started the day with words that were like any others. Good morning, sugar. Let’s get moving. There was nothing special about them, yet every time she heard them, they annoyed her more and more. Every time Applejack spoke, it became harder to keep from commenting, from telling her to just shut up.

And every time she realized what she had almost said or done, the realization stung twice as much as last time. Fluttershy clenched her eyes shut and tried to focus on eating, on rationing the tasteless grasses and the water that she carried. It was a poor and dangerous distraction. She’d barely taken three sips of water before she realized there was hardly any left.

“If we pick up the pace, we should make it there by the evening,” Applejack said, slipping into the simple saddlebags they’d made. “Guess it’s a castle of some sort,” she added, squinting at the blocky mass as the sun crept over the mountains on the far side of the valley and brought it into relief.

Fluttershy nodded and shrugged. Her wings dragged listlessly at her side as she followed Applejack’s tail across cracked ground and around jagged boulders. Applejack had apparently lost the hairband on her tail at some point, and she couldn’t give up on the small satisfaction she got from not letting her know.

And then there were the shadows. Not more than a few hours ago, as she lay awake in the night trying to think of nicer things, she’d seen them. In the corner of her vision, the darkness shifted with neither sun nor wind to pull the strings of their surroundings. It was terrifying, of course; it just didn’t matter so long as their path was set. Everything led them to the center of this madness, and questioning the logic made her head hurt.

“Careful,” Applejack warned as she climbed over the lip of a tear in the ground, another of the many smaller craters that dotted the landscape. It looked as if though a giant hoof had stomped down upon the ground in fury.

“Yeah, careful,” Fluttershy murmured, repeating the vapid comment. She wouldn’t have to watch where she trod if she simply flew, of course, except she didn’t. Her wings were heavy as lead today, even if she wasn't feeling particularly tired.

Time and distance both crawled, but inevitably and inexorably, the building in the distance gained in detail. The large, angular thing was made entirely of some dark stone or other, and seemed untouched by the passing of time. Either somepony or something was maintaining it, or it was just another thing that was wrong. Built upon a small cliff that looked like something the nearby mountains had spat out, it was more like a fortress than anything else. When they drew close, it loomed over them as surely as did the tall peaks to the south that threatened to swallow the sky.

“Well, ain’t that a cheery sight,” Applejack chuckled dryly as she forged ahead. Without pause she mounted the slope that led to to the entrance, trotting up the wide yet steep path. At the top, a small landing jutted forth; a plateau with a featureless entrance area. Large wooden doors stood ajar, and above, the sky was the color of ash. Again something moved in the corner of Fluttershy’s eye.

“Applejack?” Fluttershy asked, licking her dry and chapped lips. No response. The farmpony nudged the doors further apart, and they slid open with nary a sound. The walls on either side were solid, battlements loomed above, and what little space there was on the plateau that wasn’t tiled with simple dark stone was dry and featureless dust.

“Applejack,” she tried anew. She reached out to tug at her tail, but when her friend disappeared inside, she hurried after her. On the other side of the threshold, Applejack had paused, causing Fluttershy to bump into her, but her muffled apology went unnoticed.

A large stained glass dome above, smudged but miraculously still whole, admitted what little muted light the outside offered. In the center of the huge room a large and sturdy table stood, covered in dust yet otherwise in good repair. Surrounding this rather unceremonious centerpiece were rows upon rows of benches, and the walls were lined with galleries overlooking those again, all facing the table. It was as if one could smell the history of the room, the very essence of the untold stories mixing with the dust their entrance had whirled up.

At the edge of what she could see and hear, the shadows danced on. If she turned, she imagined she could see what they were, but it wasn’t important as the fire that grew within her.

“Applejack!” she called, again.

Applejack made a small, noncommittal noise and glanced back at her before she picked her way between the benches heading for a set of stairs that led down. Aside from that one odd look, the orange mare kept her gaze studiously on-track. Perhaps she noticed them, too.

“Let’s turn around,” Fluttershy pleaded, trying to focus on getting the words out of her mouth in the correct order. Did the door move? Was it closing behind them? “We—we need to go back.”

“Nothin’ doin’, sugar,” Applejack murmured. Yet again, Fluttershy followed. Whatever shrinking part of her mind that had just spoke tried to raise the alarm. She wasn’t just following; they were being herded.

And just like that, the frustration mattered twice as much as those minor concerns. The venom that seethed within her demanded her attention. She lowered her head and drew a hissing breath through her teeth as she made after Applejack, down the dark and dull stone hallway into the bowels of the fort.

“You’re always doing this,” she said, drawing up alongside Applejack and fixing her with a frown. “Did you ask me if I wanted to go this way? No.”

Doors passed by on either side. The only reason they didn’t stumble and fall was because the hallway was lit by some crystal or other, but it wasn’t nearly as important as the way her cheeks burned as Applejack rolled her eyes at her.

“Just let me handle this, sugar,” the farmpony retorted.

The tattered carpet they walked broke apart in places as they stepped on it. The lights flickered, and yet another set of grandiose stairs passed by.

“Yes, because that’s been going so well so far,” Fluttershy laughed. “If we had rested at the bottom of the cliff, maybe you wouldn’t have been so cold tonight, but that’s not my problem, is it?”

It was impossible to say which of the two had opened the next door, but like so many other obstacles, it parted before them. Through another great hall, again with the stairs down, and into a darkness that the crystals above could not quite hold at bay.

“I wasn’t cold at all,” Applejack said, her eyes flashing with thinly veiled anger. “And you ain’t much pulling your weight anyhow now are you?”

“Maybe I would if I thought you would listen,” Fluttershy hissed.

“Well, and if’n you feel I don’t, then maybe the problem’s with you, that’s what I’m thinking,” Applejack growled back, but there was no fight in her. The farmpony waved a hoof, almost as if dismissing her, and sat down on her rump.

“Maybe I should,” Fluttershy said, a wave of dizziness washing over her. She tried to steady herself, but she fell all the same. It was all she could do to make sure she was facing away from Applejack.

---

When had they stopped walking? How long ago was that? Fluttershy couldn’t even open her eyes fully. It took all of her energy to merely crack a lid and peer out from under her lashes to confirm that nothing was changing. They weren’t moving anymore, and her head hurt as she tried to think. She should be horrified, she knew, disgusted by the things she had said and thought. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t a spiteful and morose pony ready to give up on her friends. She was somepony else entirely, wasn’t she?

She was just couldn’t figure out who. In fact, she was beginning to doubt she was anypony at all, any more. Her head rested on the ground, yet her sight wouldn’t go beyond her own frazzled tail. Not two strides away, she knew something moved. Something dark and dangerous was closing in on her—on them, she forced herself to think—and she could do nothing. Just the motion from glancing over at Applejack was enough to make her feel sick, and another flash of anger coursed through her at the sight.

Applejack lay on her side. Her eyes were oddly muted as if though covered by a film, and her attention was fixed to the ground between them. She was the cause of this all. It was her fault, Fluttershy heard, but the voice was not hers. The apathy wasn’t hers, either, but she could no more fight it than she could fly without her wings.

The thing that was not her liked this, and encouraged that line of thinking. There was so much that she couldn’t do, and her failures were dredged up from the dark recesses of her mind, put on display.

Fluttershy whimpered as she saw the stares of the masses, once more forced to stand upon the catwalk in Canterlot. She tried to make a groove in the stone with her chin, pushed down into the ground by the burn of their attention.

Before the image had even faded, she was back in Ponyville where she was made a laughing stock when her wings failed her. The anemometer had stopped, and she wilted in the shame of giving something her best, only to find it woefully insufficient.

Except, it hadn’t ended like that.

Fluttershy put all her efforts into remembering that. She latched on to that one fact, reminded herself that she was more than just her own thoughts and feelings, whatever they were and weren’t. She struggled to move one of her legs, and finally it responded.

Even on a good day, she had her doubts. She had her fears, her worries and concerns, just like everypony else. And just like others, she had friends who did their best to quell those fears. She had friends who tried to help her be her best. She had friends who loved her and supported her.

The shadows moved faster, now. They railed against this, tried to silence her rebellious thoughts and douse them in lies, but it was too late. Even if they could have gotten their hooks into her mind again, there was one bond that the voices couldn’t poison. One thread that reached so far back, it was untouchable.

Her other foreleg answered her command, and she began hoisting herself up. The darkness closed in, but it was a bluff and she knew it. Her nose stung with an acrid smell and her skin crawled, but she could not be broken. Already, she was remembering.

“Um, it’s okay if you’d rather do something else,” Fluttershy said, her ears drooping. Rainbow Dash did not look pleased at all with the way the safari hat rested on her head.

“No,” Dash protested, her eyes narrowing as she adjusted her headpiece. “I said I’d watch the butterfly migration with you, so we’re doing this. Let’s go,” she snorted, flapping her wings to hover in front of Fluttershy with her forelegs crossed.

“But if you don’t want to...” Fluttershy suggested, trying very much not to think of how terribly lonely last year’s trip had been. As lovely as the annual butterfly migrations were, she didn’t want to spend the entire day by herself again.

“I promised,” Dash grumped. “I don’t break promises, okay?”

“If you’re sure,” Fluttershy said.

“I’m sure, jeez. Stop worrying,” Rainbow Dash chuckled through a sudden, lopsided smile. “Let’s go watch some stupid butterflies.”

Finally, Fluttershy smiled back.

Falsehood. A favor by obligation only, the shadows suggested, but Fluttershy wasn’t worried in the least. Emboldened as she was by the other memories flocking to her, she managed to get her hindlegs in place, first one, then the other. Shakily, she stood.

Fluttershy quivered. The cold grip of fear was known to her, but rarely before had it ever been so real as it was in that moment. The creatures that blocked her path made frightening faces, and any second now, she would be in for a lot of pain. She clenched her eyes shut just as the blows rang out, the impact of hooves louder than the din of battle nearby.

Except nothing hurt. When the noises stopped, Fluttershy opened her eyes to look straight at Rainbow Dash. If she had any doubts as to whether it was a changeling or the real thing, they were shattered when Dash grinned at her. Without a word, strong legs reached out to help her up. Rainbow Dash was watching over her. As always.

Rainbow Dash had her back. She’d always known it, but it was a different thing entirely to manage to truly believe it. To be able to lean back. Perhaps more importantly, to be able to rely upon another without feeling like a burden.

“On it!” Dash called, reaching out for her. Their friends were in free fall, and Fluttershy’s blood had turned to ice, but there was no hesitation in Dash’s voice. There was no question of whether or not Fluttershy was the pony for the job. The confident pegasus barely spared her a glance, trusting in her to do her part as they set off towards Rarity and Spike where they fell.

It was so very different once you felt needed in turn. When you weren’t aimlessly following in another’s hoofsteps trying to be of use, but rather, pulling your own weight.

“Fluttershy!”

Dash’s voice rang out, but it didn’t come from any one memory. Rather, it was from all of them; Rainbow Dash spoke her name, and with it came the memory that had let her believe. Suddenly, the darkness did not seem so absolute.

“Number one flier, huh?” Fluttershy giggled as she glided through the air at Rainbow Dash’s side, still elated by her small part in bringing Cloudsdale their water supply for the year.

Dash raised a brow at that, glancing over at her with one eye. Moments ago she had been whooping with joy and pulling so many little stunts that she’d lost her goggles in the woods below, but the blue mare’s attention was fully on her now.

“What’s so funny about that?”

Fluttershy’s smile died on her face. She licked her lips and searched her mind for a reply, but there was nothing. Had it been anypony else, she would have shrunk before the question. As it was, the best she could manage was silence.

As per usual, Rainbow Dash didn’t let the quiet last for very long. She picked back up her casual, almost bored smile. She looked content. “I meant it. We couldn’t have done it without you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Fluttershy made to reply. She opened her mouth, but Rainbow Dash had turned away from her, staring straight ahead. The brash flier was grinning, now. “I knew you had it in you,” she added.

Had exactly what in her? Less wing power than she had hooves? The protests were weak now, easily brushed aside. If Rainbow Dash truly did believe in her, then perhaps she could make a difference once more. The muscles in her neck protested as she strained to raise her head, and her mane was made of lead. The circle around them was closing still, and she still couldn’t make herself face the darkness. When she had found will to move again, a lot of other unpleasant things had come with it. She remembered everything she had said. Every insult and mean-spirited comment to Applejack returned to her.

Her eyes stung, and her vision blurred, but she accepted the crushing weight of the sadness that bore down upon her. She couldn’t do this alone. Applejack lay entirely unmoving, eyes still unfocused.

“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy whispered, her voice as dry and cracked as the air she breathed. “I’m—I’m so sorry for everything I said, for—for everything.”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know if you can even hear me, and I’ve been having the most horrible thoughts. I—I wanted to hurt you,” she said. The admission made it seem so terribly real, it made her want to curl up and hide. She wanted to resign herself to the fate that she no doubt deserved, but the words also gave her strength. With painstaking slowness, she let her gaze rise. Her eyes quested upwards, past Applejack’s unseeing eyes, past the brim of her hat, and to the darkness that swirled around them.

Vague, indistinct shapes ran circles around them. Too many to count, too fast to make out clearly, the shadows were a billowing mass of blackness. They had no eyes, they were given neither beginning nor end, but they noticed. Under her attention they were forced to take shape. They recoiled, and a sharp hiss filled the air though there were no mouths to have voiced it.

Fluttershy had no idea what they were, but she knew what she needed to know. She saw them. There was something there, and the knowledge stole from their power. No longer could they make her believe otherwise.

“This isn’t us.” Her lips trembled as she forced herself to look upon the horrid things that changed even as she stared them down. They grew fangs and made faces, mocked her and threatened her without words.

“It’s not us,” she repeated, louder now, reaching out to rest a hoof on Applejack’s withers. The farmpony barely stirred. “We’re not like this. We’re friends, and we would never say these things.”

Her voice still shook, and the darkness pressed in again. It wasn’t the full truth. Things were never that simple, and the scariest thing of all had yet to be said. Fluttershy closed her eyes and drew a sharp breath that made her entire body shudder.

“But I, um, I did get a little annoyed, once, or twice, and I think maybe that was me,” she admitted, hanging her head. “I mean, I know you probably don’t mean anything with it, because, um, you’re probably j—just, I mean, you’re just doing what you think is best—”

The words spilled out of her far too fast, broken only by a sniffle, and she could feel fresh tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “It’s just that at times, it feels like you don’t listen, and that’s okay sometimes, because I don’t like to be a bother, but it’s not the same at all. I—I have things to say that matter, and I’m not trying to be a burden, but you keep pushing ahead and saying you know best, and—and you’re probably right, usually, but sometimes, maybe, just maybe, I’m right, too?”

Fluttershy sighed and wiped her snout on the nook of a leg. The room was brighter and the air no longer tasted of ash, but it took all of her courage to open her eyes again. All she could think of was that Applejack would hate her for being angry with her. For being so petty and mean as to think these thoughts, and if not for that, for not telling her.

Applejack was looking up at her, and for whatever reason, the orange mare was smiling faintly. It was no scowl or frown, but a genuine smile tainted only by honest weariness.

“You’re right, sugar,” Applejack croaked, scratching at the ground. Fluttershy leaned down to help her up, but Applejack threw a leg around her withers instead and held her close. Only now did Fluttershy realize that the shadowy hiss that had surrounded them was gone.

“I just want you home and safe, on account of this is all my fault,” she murmured into Fluttershy’s mane.

“It’s not your fault,” Fluttershy said, but at that, Applejack let go and held her at a leg’s length, fixing her with a stare so intense it was all she could do to stay still.

“It is. Listen,” Applejack near-growled. “That whole spell malarky, that idea was mine. If it weren’t for me, none of this would’ve happened. I went and got it into my head that we could fix this all if we just made you think—aw hay, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” she asked. “I could’ve stopped it. Nipped it in the bud. I just wanted to help, but that ain’t much of an excuse is it?”

“Me? But—fix what?” Fluttershy asked, but the realization hit home in time for her to mouth the words even as Applejack spoke them.

“The letter. Sorry,” Applejack mumbled, lowering her head to the ground.

Fluttershy puffed out her cheeks and sighed, but when Applejack cast her eyes down, she realized how terrible she must make her friend feel by letting her think she was angry. Fluttershy spread her wings and reached out to lift Applejack’s head back up to face her.

“I don’t mind, please don’t think that! I mean, not that you tried to help, I know what it feels like to, um, well, to want to help,” Fluttershy said, letting go and planting the hoof back on the ground. “I just wish you would have told me. You can’t—it’s my problem. You can’t carry everypony elses’ problems on your back like this.”

Applejack snorted, sending dust whirling up from the stones underneath. She grinned even as she rose to sit. “That coming from you, Fluttershy, I suppose that either means nothing, or that it means a lot, since that’s all you do. Heck. It’s what friends are supposed to do, ain’t it?”

“Not when it ends up with somepony hurt,” Fluttershy retorted, her voice gentle as her smile.

“It still bothers you, don’t it?” Applejack asked. “Whatever’s in that letter, I mean.”

Fluttershy stared into those green eyes, looked upon that earnest face that wanted to know not only because of curiosity, but because she cared. Digging up those words and even thinking about that whole mess was more painful each and every time.

“It’s not really just about your parents, is it?”

And every time she buried it again, more and more of it stuck out of the ground for all to see. Every time, it became harder to hide it. Fluttershy felt her cheeks heat up, but it would be ridiculous to deny it. She would sooner hold her silence than speak a lie and betray her feelings in the most literal sense of the words.

“I ain’t blind,” Applejack said, shaking her head. “But sugar, you don’t need to say a thing right now. I’m sorry for, well,” she paused, the farmpony scratching at the ground with a hoof.

“Sorry fer just about everything, I reckon, from being a featherbrain right up ‘till getting us tangled up in this.”

“It’s not—” Fluttershy began, but Applejack held up a leg, forestalling any protest.

“Just leave it, better that I blame us being here on me than that you find some silly way to bring this back upon yourself,” Applejack said, her chest shaking with an unvoiced laugh. “I carried that around for so long, won’t matter if you think it wrong or right any more. It made me sick to my stomach, but I can deal with it so long as you don’t hate me for it.”

Her words were bold enough, but Applejack just sat there looking over at Fluttershy. It took a few seconds before Fluttershy realized there had been something of a question in there.

“Never,” she breathed. “I never would, I—I never could!” Fluttershy stammered. “If you can forgive—”

“Forgive what?” Applejack asked. Simple as that, she leaned forward to hug Fluttershy around her neck. It wasn’t until then Fluttershy realized how long she’d been cold, or exactly where the pervasive chill had resided. She hugged Applejack back with all of her might and wrapped her wings around her, wanting to never again feel so lonely and wretched as she had mere hours ago. The room, wherever they were, was brighter, and she barely took the time to register that nothing moved before she closed her eyes. They were safe.

“Fluttershy,” Applejack said, her voice rumbling pleasantly against the side of Fluttershy’s neck. She made a small noise in reply, but refused to give up her hold on Applejack. The farmpony’s voice held in it neither alarm nor panic, and that made it so much easier to ignore it.

“Uh, Fluttershy?” the voice repeated, but Fluttershy’s only reply was a shake of her head. As sleep claimed her, a most decidedly normal and safe fuzziness descended upon her mind. She was dreaming even before she was fully asleep, the pony who snorted and curled up around her rapidly becoming a pegasus instead.

Comments

[EveningStar]

Aww!

[Cedric Bale]

And then Applejack was a shapeshifter.

[Kage no Brony]

1201204

Fluttershy! Watch out! AJ's a Changeling!

[grogar]

REALLY! i man REALLY!! you could have use AJ to help flutter realize there friends but NO! good chap but could have been better,

[Steampunkie Pie]

This is fantastic as per usual Cloudy, but I just want to point a couple of things out:
Paragraph 3: relieff
Paragraph 9: Large wooden stood ajar
Simple typo, and you appear to have missed a word, again typo I'm sure, but I just wanted to point those out.
Other than that bit of nitpicking, the story is fantastic and I am enjoying every minute of this.

[UnlicensedBrony]

(Chapter 8) That was an amazing chapter! It flowed so perfectly and it was really exciting too. 27 chapters to go

[Lordcolgate15]

1516952

Hmmm... 12:28 AM, lets see what time i can finish all 27 chapters

[PatRoison]

Another amazing powerful chapter. This confrontation had been building, and it was good to see Fluttershy be the one to help them realize that there was something very wrong.