Fluttershy
A.K. Yearling faced a problem. It wasn’t a grievous challenge, not in the grand scheme of things. More of a minor nuisance. She glared at her typewriter, attempting through sheer force of will to make it have more ink. After a few seconds of this, she reached out to tap a random key. The machine did its obligatory motions, striking the paper with a resounding clack that left nothing behind but white.
With a groan designed to project maximum suffering, she let her chin drop to the edge of her desk. She’d already searched her entire house for another drum of ink and come up with nothing. How in the name of Celestia could she have forgotten to buy more? It wasn’t as though that last whack from Caballeron had rattled her brains that much.
Her eyes drifted to the window, where a heavy rain painted the world in blurry streaks. Rain had never been a problem for Daring Do. A mare who dug through trap-infested tombs and wrestled with giant cats did not develop heart palpitations at the thought of getting a little wet. But gosh darn it, she wasn’t out searching for some powerful artifact or running from ancient monster guardians. A.K. Yearling was at home, trying to relax and write her next book. Those plans were not supposed to involve discomfort of any sort!
But she’d been at a really interesting part of the story…
No. She was at home, relaxing, not doing the adventuring stuff. This was her vacation, and with Luna as her witness, she wasn’t going to spend it trotting through the mud just to buy some more ink. If the wild weather of the jungles didn’t want to cooperate with her literature time, she’d find other ways to entertain herself. Preferably ways involving Wild Turkey.
She was just about to pick her chin up off the old wood when a new sound made her ears fold back: knocking. On her front door. It had been a very quiet sound, but she’d heard it nonetheless. Who would be visiting her middle-of-nowhere abode?
Wonderful. Just wonderful. First her typewriter runs out of ink, now this. Did fate not understand the concept of vacations? She’d gotten back from stopping Caballeron from getting the secrets of the Tower of Silroam and didn’t want to go on another adventure or fight any more bad guys for at least a month. And, knowing her luck, the prick at the door was probably a distraction so that some nefarious figure could sneak in through her back door and try to get the drop on her. At least she’d remembered to activate the booby trap this time.
Another knock, only slightly louder, forced her to her hooves. Whoever this ‘visitor’ was, they weren’t exactly aggressive. They had to be barely knocking. Maybe it was a breezy. That’d at least be something new to write about. She approached the door, pausing only to glance out her windows for potential shadowy figures in the rain. Nothing. Professionals, perhaps.
Keeping one leg loose so it might deliver a hook at a moment’s notice, Yearling paused before her door to undo the three deadbolts. The chain remained in place, of course. With one more check to ensure no amateurs were sneaking up on her, she pulled the door open a crack and peeked outside. “Whadaya want?”
She’d expected an immediate attack or, at the very least, a bit of fast-talking distraction. What she got instead was a yellow mare in a mud-streaked orange raincoat. Judging by her half-turned pose, she’d probably been on the verge of giving up. She looked towards the crack in the door with wide, startled blue eyes beneath a long, luxurious pink mane. “Um… h-hello?”
Yearling scowled. This pony looked vaguely familiar, but not dangerous. Not at all. If anything, she appeared to have all the hardness of a filly's teddy bear, extra squeaky. “Yes, hello. Hi. Can I help you with something?”
Despite her harsh tone, the young mare didn’t flinch. Her ears shot up as she stared at Yearling’s exposed eye. “Y-you… you sound just like her.”
“Her who?”
Down went the ears again. The pony circled the tip of her hoof in the mud bashfully. “I-I’m sorry. I came to see you, Miss Yearling. I… I wanted to ask you something.”
Horseapples, a fan. Yearling lived in the middle of nowhere at least partially for the sake of avoiding those. Granted, she’d grown a much deeper appreciation of them in recent months, ever since that Rainbow Dash had taught her a few lessons in friendship three months ago. That didn’t mean she wanted them knocking on the front door of her private residence, though.
“I’m not answering any questions about the new book. You gotta wait just like everypony else.”
“But—”
“And I’m not answering any questions about the old books, either! All the clues are right there in front of your face. You want answers? Learn to read better.”
“I’m not—”
“And the next time you want to bother the author, I suggest you don’t do it at her home where she’s supposed to be relaxing! Go to a convention if you wanna ask me something that badly.”
“Y-you don’t go to the conventions.”
“Not my problem.” Yearling shoved the door closed with a sigh and turned away. She’d feel guilty about this later, but she didn’t come here to be harassed by impatient fans in her own home. There came another knock on the door, much more insistent this time. Yearling growled and walked away, certain that if she ignored the noise the pony would go away.
She could feel a headache coming on. Nothing a bit of booze couldn’t fix. She marched into her kitchen and pulled out a big, barely used bottle of Wild Turkey. Just as she was reaching for a glass, there came a rapping on the window that gave her a jolt. She spun about to find that yellow mare watching her through the window. “What the hay, kid? How many ways do I have to say ‘scram’ before you get it?”
“I’m really sorry to bother you,” the mare claimed, her voice muffled by the window. Her face smeared and warped through the wet glass. “But I need to talk to you about Daring Do!”
Yearling snorted and prepared to close the curtains. “Look, I already told you—”
“Not that one.” The mare set her hooves to the window, perhaps to press her point home. “The other one.”
That gave Yearling pause. Other one? What other one? She took a moment to scour her encyclopedic knowledge of her own books, making sure to include fictional and non-fictional accounts. She finally landed on something. “Are you referring to the evil Daring on the other side of the Mirror of Madness?”
The mare shook her head before leaning closer to the window, making Yearling fear for the glass. “Six months ago.”
Six months ago? The last book was released almost a year ago. Yearling sat and rubbed her chin, trying to think of things that happened in that time frame. It didn’t take her long to remember an impromptu, spur-of-the-moment journey into the Everfree Forest. She’d gone there to have some one-on-one time with a very unusual pony.
Six months ago.
She peered at the mare on the other side of her window. “You’re from Ponyville.” At the quick nod, she stepped a little closer. “You met the fake, didn’t you?”
The mare leaned back as if startled, only to reverse the motion and glare into Yearling’s eyes through the rain streaks. “She wasn’t fake! Daring was as real as anypony. The Princesses even said so.”
Yearling still considered closing the curtains and going back to her alcohol. That event was over and done, and there was no point dwelling on it. Still, this pony had come all the way out here to talk about something other than Yearling’s books. She never had learned what happened to that doppelganger…
Frustration warred with her curiosity for a while, and the whole time the mare was shivering in the rain out there. At last, knowing for certain she’d regret it, she pulled the window open with a jerk. The mare, having still been pressed against it, fell forward and flipped through the opening, landing with a painfully adorable squeak on her back. Her pink mane and tail splayed across the floorboards as she blinked at the ceiling.
Ignoring the mud now littering her kitchen, Yearling scowled at the pony and closed the window. “You like bourbon?”
The mare twiddled her forehooves and blushed. “I-I’ve never tried it. Rainbow Dash says it’s good, though.”
Pulling out two glasses, Yearling glanced over her shoulder. “You know Rainbow?”
“Um, yes?”
Soon the glasses were filled with the amber liquid. Balancing them on a wing, Yearling turned around to find the mare sitting atop her discarded raincoat and looking around at the mess she’d made with her impromptu entrance. Yearling waved a hoof to get her attention. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve cleaned up a lot worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I said don’t worry about it.” Flicking her tail and hoping she wouldn’t have to hear a hundred apologies before this visit was over, Yearling turned for the living room. “Come on, let’s get more comfortable.”
She settled down on a couch, which itself faced another, and set the drinks down. Her gaze drifted to her guest, who approached the open seat cautiously. After a few seconds of fidgeting and scuffing her hooves, the mare settled on the floor. Yearling saw this and cocked her head to one side. “Why aren’t you sitting on the couch?”
“Um… I don’t want to get your furniture dirty.” She raised her hoof to demonstrated how it was still soaked and coated in mud.
“It can be cleaned,” Yearling replied with a shrug. She didn’t bother to mention that she replaced the furniture in this place once every three months on average.
The mare looked around, then hurried to the front door. “Excuse me a moment.” Yearling watched, bemused, as her guest did her best to stomp away the mud and water from her hooves on the door mat. This continued for nearly five minutes, the mare never quite satisfied with her cleanliness, before Yearling heaved a sigh and flew to her bathroom to retrieve a towel.
“Oh. Th-thank you.” The mare’s cheeks went pink as she daintily took the towel and cleaned herself off. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to impose. If you really want me to, I could come back later.”
Yearling accepted the towel back, delivered it to a nearby hamper, and returned to find the young mare looking around the room in curiosity. “Now get over here and sit down, would ya? What’s your name, anyway?”
“You don’t remember?” At Yearling’s flat look, she hid behind her mane. “Oh, that’s okay. I don’t blame you for forgetting. I’m not much of anypony, really.” She trotted, head and ears low, to the couch once more. As if in afterthought, she added, “I’m Fluttershy.”
Fluttershy, huh? That name did ring a bell. Yearling settled on her couch and took a sip of Wild Turkey, buying herself time to try and remember. Her brain came up blank, and she couldn’t keep sipping in silence. Well, the obvious thing to do was go with what she had already established. “So how do you know Rainbow, exactly?”
Fluttershy was staring at the glass of bourdon in her hooves as if not certain if it was edible. “We’re best friends. We grew up together, and she moved to Ponyville just to keep me company when I did.”
“Uh-huh.” Attempting to picture this shy – and unsettlingly cute, in Yearling’s opinion – filly being friends with the rambunctious and loud Rainbow Dash wasn’t easy. “So Rainbow told you where I live?”
Down went the ears. Again. Fluttershy glanced away before answering, “No, I was here with her. I helped out at that temple, with the ring and everything. B-but it’s okay that you don’t remember.”
Yearling sat up straight, both to grab the mare’s attention and take a closer look at her. She remembered that Rainbow had some friends with her. Princess Twilight, obviously, and that pink pony who had simply been impossible to ignore. Yearling couldn’t recall the rest, but that meant she couldn’t confirm Fluttershy’s story, either. She needed some kind of proof…
Ah! “How many rings where there?”
Fluttershy met her gaze with an uncertain frown. “Rings?”
“Yeah, rings.” Yearling pointed a hoof at her. “If you were really there, then you saw the Rings of Scorchero. How many were there?”
“Oh.” Fluttershy tilted her head back for a moment, but in short order answered with a simple “Thirteen, if you count the one we kept away from Ahuizotl.”
“Thirteen.” Yearling turned her head to the side to give a one-eyed glare, just to give an air of suspicion. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. You wrote there was only seven in the book because then you could write about searching out each one without it getting too long, but there were definitely thirteen in reality.” Fluttershy followed up the matter-of-fact reply with a high-browed sip of her bourdon, followed immediately by a coughing fit.
Yearling smirked at the display, waiting patiently for the hacking to stop. “You okay?”
“Y-yes.” The glass was promptly placed back on the table. “I just didn’t expect it to be so strong.” Fluttershy fidgeted and half-hid behind her mane again. “So, um, I answered correctly, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.” Yearling scratched the back of her head with a sheepish smile. “Sorry I didn’t remember you. I meet a lot of faces, y’know?”
At last settling comfortably into her couch, Fluttershy answered, “It’s okay. I usually prefer to go unnoticed, to be honest.” Her mouth opened, but whatever she intended to say got caught in her throat. Her cheeks turned pink as she began fiddling with her forehooves again.
Yearling decided to get this conversation started properly. “Okay, now that I know you’re not a crazy fan or out for revenge or some other thing like that, what is it that you wanted to ask me?”
Instead of getting the mare to open up, the query seemed to make her even more anxious! Fluttershy’s attempts at speech dissolved into muttered whispers and sputtering, her wings shifted in little spurts of motion, and her fiddling grew so frantic Yearling wondered if her hooves might start smoking from the friction. She nudged the mare’s nearly full glass of Wild Turkey forward with a wing.
Noting the motion, Fluttershy snatched up the glass and drank the whole thing in one quick pull. This was followed by a repeat performance of her earlier hacking fit. Yearling waited patiently, enjoying her own bourbon and hoping her grin didn’t appear too mischievous.
“How close is the Daring in the books to A.K. Yearling?”
The question had come out in a sudden burst of energy, but Fluttershy was already cowering behind her mane by the time it had been finished. Yearling felt her heart sinking at the sight of the young mare’s shivering. It wasn’t just the pitiful appearance of Fluttershy, though. Instinct screamed at her that this line of questioning was going to make nopony happy, and she abruptly wished she’d just left Fluttershy out in the rain.
Lips pursed and wings tight against her sides, Yearling asked, “Why do you want to know?”
Through trembling lips and with a voice bordering on desperate, Fluttershy attempted to respond. “I-I— She was… I wanted to… It’s n-not—” She closed her eyes tight, but too late to hide the tears building up in them. “I w-want her back.”
Want her back? Yearling saw all the signs, but she didn’t want to believe them. She stared at her half-empty glass and tried to think of what that fake had said during their one and only meeting. She’d mentioned something. Something about a romantic interest. What was it?
I’ll do whatever I have to! Fluttershy is not going to suffer because of me.
Oh.
Oh, crap.
Yearling downed the last of her bourbon, then slammed it onto the table, making her guest jump. “I’ll be right back.” She trotted into her kitchen, leaving Fluttershy to pull herself back together, and snatched a few more bottles from her cabinets. She promptly returned and set the bottles down before pouring them both a full glass of Buffalo Trace whisky. “We’re gonna need plenty of booze to get through this one.”
They alternated bottles with every empty glass, going through whiskey, chardonnay, beer, rum, and cider (turned out Fluttershy knew the proprietor of the brand for that last one). It wasn’t until they’d gotten through at least one bottle of each that either pony felt comfortable enough to finally address the topic now hanging like an anvil over their heads.
For a pony so clearly unaccustomed to the practice, Fluttershy took her booze like a champ. She wasn’t even slurring when she said, “I loved Daring Do.”
“I gathered.” Yearling was quite pleased that she sounded as good as Fluttershy did. It would have been humiliating to get out-drank by such a petite pegasus princess. “And now you’re here ‘cause you miss her and are hoping I’ll be just like her.”
Pink hit Fluttershy’s cheeks, and yet she giggled. Probably the drink. “Something like that? My friends all think I’m headed to a butterfly watcher’s convention. I feel so naughty.” Another bout of quiet laughter left her as she poured herself another glass of cider. “Oh, they’d be so startled.”
Yep, definitely the drink. Daring was starting to think her guest had had enough for now. She wanted to talk to her, not give her alcohol poisoning. She wasn’t fast enough to stop Fluttershy from downing her refill, but she was at least able to hide all the bottles under the table while the mare teetered and stared at her empty glass. “Alright, Buttershy, talk at me.”
“At you?” Fluttershy held her glass up with a wing while scanning the table. “I don’t think you said that right. Hey, can bottles just disappear?”
“Sure.” She’d seen stranger things. “They’re getting out of the way so we can talk.”
“Oh.” With a disappointed sigh, Fluttershy put the glass down on the table. “What do you want to talk about?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
Fluttershy blinked a few times, her eyes shifting as she tried to focus them on Yearling. Once she did, her shoulders slumped and her wings went limp. Sitting back and twiddling her forehooves once more, she said, “I want to know why you left me alone.”
Yearling shook her head – and tried to stay sitting straight in the process. “I’m not her. Why did she leave you.”
A few seconds passed as Fluttershy peered at her, lips curled down in a dubious frown. “Oh, right.” Back to slumping and twiddling her hooves. “I want to know why she left me alone.”
“Probably because she has a brain.” Yearling tried to take a drink, only to remember that her glass was empty. It took a second to remember why she had no bottles on the table. “I should know. She’s me.”
“You mean it was the smart thing to do?” Slowly, as if wary of her legs, Fluttershy settled on her belly on the couch and closed her eyes. “I don’t understand. She loved me. You said she… I mean she said you… Uh… Sh-she said so.”
Yearling raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
A lone blue eye popped open to stare at her. “I don’t know. She said she did. Isn’t… Isn’t that enough?” She bit her lip and buried her face under a foreleg. “It’s enough. It must be enough.”
Yearling groaned and sat back, letting her head dangle loosely over the back of the couch. Not the most comfortable position. Maybe if she stayed there for a minute or two it would grow on her. “You knew her for a few weeks. Hardly time to build a stable relationship, princess.”
“How would you know?” All timidity disappeared as Fluttershy jumped off her couch, wings flares and steam blowing from her nostrils. “You weren’t there! You didn’t see the way she looked at me or touched me or wrapped her wings around me or… or…” She swung like an upside down pendulum as sniffles and tears took away the brief rage. “Or how she kissed me. I n-never felt so good as when she… she… I want her back so badly.”
The couch had little interest in cooperating, so Yearling abandoned her pose and sat up straight once more. She’d lecture the house on the definition of ‘straight’ later. “You came to the wrong house for sympathy, sweetheart. I told that faker it would end badly. Maybe if she’d listened to me then things would have gone better for you.”
“Y-you… You what?”
“Oh, yeah.” Yearling chuckled and pointed her hoof at nothing in particular. “I told her, I said… I said ‘You. You! Ain’t no way you getting in a relationship with that Flutterpony is gonna end well. Best quit while you’re ahead.” She rubbed her chin with a fetlock. “Eh, maybe not exactly that, but close—hey!”
Fluttershy was on the couch, pinning Yearling by the shoulders to the backrest. Well, maybe not ‘pinning’; she had already thought of five different ways to break free. But the snarl in her face and the viciousness in those blue eyes made it a little hard to think.
“You! It’s your fault! If you hadn’t told her those lies, she’d still be here with me. She wouldn’t have decided to die. You killed my Daring!”
Deciding that headlocking this mare or throwing her into the wall would be overkill, Yearling calmly reached up and pushed her back a little before offering an honest, “What the hay are you talking about?”
Fluttershy shook her, which didn’t really amount to much. “She was happy and loving and kind and was going to stay with me forever and now she’s gone! And her change of heart came so fast and… and…” The energy fizzled out like the last flame of a burnt out candle. Fluttershy slumped, clutching Yearling in a trembling embrace. “It was so s-sudden. Why? Why did she change her mind? W-what did you tell her?”
Yearling waited to see if this rant would continue, but it seemed Fluttershy was already finished. She laid there, effectively trapped on her couch by the quietly weeping pegasus, and pondered the situation. The fact that she’d heard no news about her doppleganger in all this time suggested that the pony must have either ‘faded away’ or died, but Yearling honestly hadn’t given it much thought. It had been peripheral to her interests. Knowing her own tenacity, she’d half-expected the fake Daring to show up unannounced, having survived imminent doom.
But no, her initial suspicions had been confirmed. A small part of her rejoiced. One less headache to worry about later. Yet there was another part, one that sounded a lot like Rainbow Dash, chastising her for taking pleasure in the demise of another being, even a problematic one like her magically created clone. Plus, it was hard to be selfish when what might have been the softest, cutest mare in the history of softness and cuteness combined was sobbing against her shoulder over it.
A peculiar thought struck her: had she been too hard on Daring?
You can’t condemn me for existing. It’s not like I had a choice!
“But you had a choice,” Yearling mumbled as, slowly, she wrapped her wings around Fluttershy in a hug. “And you had to go and leave me with the consequences.” That wasn’t fair and she knew it, but it eased her frustration a little. Had her arguments led to this? It wasn’t really her fault, though. How could it be? She’d told Daring, in very clear words, that pursuing a relationship would go very badly. Here was the proof. It was Daring who refused to heed the warnings, so she was the pony responsible!
…but Daring wasn’t here to take responsibility, was she? The coward.
The sound of sniffing caught her ears. Pulling out of her reverie, she noticed Fluttershy had her muzzle buried in Yearling’s chest fur. Heat blossomed in her cheeks at the tickling sensation. “W-what are you doing?”
Fluttershy blinked, looked up, and turned a shade of pink that probably matched Yearling’s. She didn’t move away, though. “I’m s-sorry. But you… You sm-mell just like her.”
“I’m not her, Fluttershy.”
“Are you sure?” Those big blue eyes tried to capture her, to snare her into the trap of needy affection. “You look like her, smell like her. Maybe you, um… k-kiss like her?”
Despite how good it felt having this mare’s soft mane draping over her shoulder, Yearling shoved down her base physical urges. This needed to be nipped in the bud now before either of them came to regret it. To this end, she did the most obvious thing she could think of and pushed. Fluttershy 'eeped' as she toppled backwards, landing in a heap on the floor.
Daring flinched. “Sorry! That was rougher than I intended.”
“I just… I wanted to…” Fluttershy didn’t bother getting up. She noted the bottles of booze next to her, and for a moment Yearling thought she’d snatch one up. Instead, she just let her chin drop to the floor and closed her eyes tight.
“I know exactly what you wanted to do,” Yearling groused. She reached down and tugged on the pony. “Come on, get up here.” After a bit of prodding and pulling, she managed to get Fluttershy to sit on the couch next to her. A safe distance next to her, that is. “Alright, look. I get that you’re hurting, and I understand why you’d want to try to relive the glory days the two of you shared. But I am not going to be a part of that fantasy.”
Back to the hoof fiddling. “But it might not be a fantasy. If we just tried…”
“Nope.” Daring shook her head, ignoring how the room swayed a bit as she did. “Listen, I’m A.K. Yearling. I’m also Daring Do. I go out on crazy adventures fighting crazy villains to stop crazy world conquest schemes, and then I write books that make those crazy adventures sound even crazier. I may be the foremost expert on the difference between fantasy and reality. And you, Buttershy, are asking for a fantasy.”
“Fluttershy.”
“Blame the alcohol.” Yearling almost reached for a bottle, but stopped herself at the last second. More drink was probably the last thing either of them needed right now. Too bad. “I understand, okay? I really do. But… hey.”
She reached up with a wing to nudge Fluttershy’s cheek, getting her to meet her gaze. Firmly ignoring her inner confirmation that, yes, this was one pretty pony, she tried to channel the sincerity of her intentions into her gaze. “I did meet Daring. I didn’t tell her to just give up.”
Fluttershy shrank a little before asking a barely audible, “Really?”
“Really. But I did warn her that getting romantic with you would only end in tears. I was trying to prevent the pain before it could start. It’s no different now. Fluttershy, if I gave in and did what you wanted me to do, it would lead to nothing but pain, especially for you. I am not going to be responsible for that. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.” You’ll thank me later.
The sadness in those blue pools didn’t fade, but they did seem to shift, as though she were looking at something beyond Yearling now. She brushed Yearling’s wing away with her own before rubbing the barely-begun tears away. Head bowed, she said, “You really are just like her.”
That… wasn’t the reaction Yearling had hoped for. “I-is that so?”
“That’s what she told me, too.” Fluttershy sat back and raised her hooves, staring at the bottom of them. “She said, ‘I’m not going to hurt you anymore than I have to.’ And then…” She crossed her fetlocks and hugged them to her chest. Her shoulders shook. “And then she faded away. Like a ghost that had m-moved on.”
Yearling wished she knew what to say to that. Trying to imagine the moment was too difficult even for her experienced mind. She scowled and turned away, the tip of her hoof running rings around the edge of her empty glass. “That fool of a pony…”
“She wasn’t a fool.” Fluttershy sniffed and shook her head. “She wasn’t. I just…”
She fell silent, save for the occasional snuffling. Yearling had nothing to add. What could she say? Apologizing wouldn’t help, and she sure as hay wasn’t going to give the mare what she wanted. Maybe if this whole mess with her clone hadn’t happened, she’d be more interested, because dang, that pony looked good. But Yearling was a moral pony, and everything about this situation threatened her personal code of ethics. A code that had warranted some adjustments since meeting Rainbow Dash.
“M-Miss Yearling?”
“Call me A.K.”
“Oh, um, okay.” Fluttershy, apparently having recovered from her bout of sniffles, spoke solemnly. “H-have you ever lost somepony important to you?”
Yearling gave herself a moment to push back old memories. “A few, yeah.”
“Does it… get easier?”
A glance at Fluttershy revealed a concerned but serious expression. Hoping for the best, expecting the worst. Maybe she wasn’t a total butterfly. Yearling turned to face her properly once more. “The pain dulls with time,” she admitted. “But never really goes away. You have to learn to move on.”
Fluttershy’s lip trembled slightly. “What if I can’t?”
“Then you’ll be miserable and pathetic for the rest of your life.” Yearling dared a weak smile. “I don’t think you’re that kind of pony, though.”
Ears perked. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t think Rainbow would make friends with somepony that weak.”
“Oh.” Down went the ears again. Fluttershy scuffed her hoof on the couch a couple times, then stopped herself with a look as if she thought she’d done something wrong. It only lasted a moment, though, and then she was back to pouting. “I don’t know how to move on, though.”
“It ain’t easy, I’ll admit, but I know something that might help a little.” Yearling reached under the table and pulled out a random bottle. Chardonnay. “You promise not to pounce on me again, and I’ll share some more with you.”
Fluttershy’s hooves shot up to her lips in a scandalized pose. “Oh, I shouldn’t! I-I’ve already had so much, and I’ve already been a burden. I don’t know if I could take it.”
“In this case, that might be a good thing.” Yearling smiled and poured them both a glass. “Makes you forget your problems for a while.” She paused, a sudden thought putting a chill in her chest. “You’re not gonna become an alcoholic because of this, are ya?”
“I wouldn’t think so.” Fluttershy’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my, what if I did? Everypony might make fun of me and talk about me behind my back. And then I’d get all miserable and drink even more, which would lead to terrible misbehavior like falling asleep on the couch during one of Pinkie’s parties which would be really bad because Pinkie works so hard on the parties and I’d just be sleeping through it and then Pinkie would be mad at me and might not want to be my friend anymore and talk to the girls and make them not want to be my friend anymore and I’d lose my cottage because I spent all my money on alcohol and I’d have to live in the Everfree Forest—”
Yearling caught her by the neck with one hoof and pressed a glass of chardonnay against her muzzle, which led to both silence and her going cross-eyed. “Yeah, if it scares you that much, I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about.”
A few muddled blinks later, Fluttershy took the glass in both hooves and downed it in a long gulp. “I suppose so,” she admitted after a deep inhale, blushing profusely.
“Good.” Yearling had plenty of time during that little tirade to think of what to say next. “Trust me, Fluttershy. Things get better. I know this little visit didn’t go the way you hoped, but sometimes what we need isn’t what we want.”
Though she sulked a bit and fiddled with her glass, Fluttershy gave a weak nod. “Then what do I need?”
Pressing a hoof to Fluttershy’s knee, Yearling offered another weak smile. “You need to do what Daring would have wanted you to do. You know what that is?”
A moment’s consideration, staring at the bottom of the glass for inspiration. Fluttershy heaved a sigh and looked away. “Not pounce on her look-alike in a desperate attempt to remember her?”
Yearling chuckled and resisted pointing out that it was Daring who was the look-alike. “That’s a start. What else?”
“Maybe…” Fluttershy hesitated, then cast a glance at her as if seeking approval. “Talk to a friend?”
That wouldn’t have been on top of Yearling’s list even now, but she had to admit it seemed to make sense. Probably what Rainbow Dash would have recommended. Speaking of… “Yeah, might work. Why not Rainbow? You said you two have been friends since you were foals.”
“We really have. She’s just a little brash.” Fluttershy brushed her mane out of her face, which only served to better show her anxious frown. “I was afraid she wouldn’t understand. None of my friends have dealt with something like this. None except…” Her eyes abruptly went round. “Except Applejack.”
Daring’s ears perked. A pony named Applejack? Now that sounded like a mare to have some fun with. “She a booze hound?”
“Oh, no!” Fluttershy frowned, thought for a moment, then reached under the table to pull out the cider bottle. “She does make this, though, so I guess she would know a thing or two about alcohol.”
Oh, Applejack was that friend. “Right. Well, she might be a good pony to talk to about this. But really, I bet any one of your friends would be wiling to help you. Coming to me is just…” She grimaced and shook her head. “Sorry, but I’m worried I’d do more harm than good.”
“Don’t say that. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” Biting her lip, Fluttershy toyed with the bottle in her hooves. “I’m sorry I was so f-forward with you earlier.”
Temptation arose, but Yearling managed to shove down the desire to joke about enjoying being harassed by eager cuties. Not now, not with the alcohol in their system and one close call already averted. A shame, she imagined the reaction would have been priceless. “It’s alright. If I couldn’t take a little rough play every now and then, I’d have to hang up my helmet.” Oh, wait, that wasn’t any better, was it?
But Fluttershy didn’t respond much beyond a light blush and another barely discernible apology. “I should probably go, before I… I-I mean, I need to get to the inn.”
Yearling raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see any saddlebags. How you gonna pay for it?”
Fluttershy brushed her mane aside but couldn’t meet her gaze. “I… umm… Originally, I guess…”
After a moment of expectant staring, Yearling rolled her eyes. “You really didn’t plan this one through, did you?”
More fiddling with the hooves. “I was sorta-kinda focused just on seeing you and… y-you know.” The pink flourished across the rest of her face.
“And you sorta-kinda hoped things would go wonderfully and you’d not need an inn, I take it?”
Wow, the pink was starting to go down her neck. The fact she could see it through the wall of mane now thoroughly blocking Fluttershy’s face from view made Yearling wonder if her head wasn’t at risk of exploding. “I sorta-kinda didn’t even consider that I’d need an inn. Would y-you mind telling me how to find it? If you want to.”
Yearling considered it, but then glanced at the window. If anything, the rain seemed to be coming down even harder. And it was a good forty-five minute walk to town. They could fly, but something told Yearling Fluttershy wasn’t made for weather not produced by pegasus hooves. “Nope, that’s not gonna fly.”
Her guest deflated like a popped balloon, her mane spilling across the couch as she lowered her head. “Oh, o-okay. I understand. I’d want to be away from me as soon as possible too in your hooves.”
“No-no-no.” Yearling brushed Fluttershy’s mane aside so that her deadpan stare could be properly witnessed. “You’re staying here tonight, just like you wanted.”
Whoops, there’s the pink again. Just when Fluttershy was getting back her natural yellow, too. “E-exactly like I wanted?”
Yearling wondered if she could get a concussion from facehoofing. That one had been a whopper.