tumble's tail

        "Welcome to Aaaaaaappleloosa!" Braeburn had cried, almost as soon as the train had disgorged its passengers onto the arid desert tundra. It hadn't quite been the welcome Fluttershy had expected, but then it hadn't been the trip she'd expected, either - Rainbow had gone missing, thieves had tried to steal the tree that Applejack had grown from little more than a pip, and a herd of ferocious bison had almost hijacked the train.

[ stuff ]

        Fluttershy leaned her muzzle down to where the tumbleweed rocked back and forth impotently. the poor thing was stuck, she realized. Tumbleweeds want nothing more than to wander the open prairie, and here was this one, tied down by a cruel twist of fate and an out-sticky branch. Well, this was a job for fluttershy, carer for all things cute a cuddly. and a few things that weren't. Seizing the errant branch in her teeth, she tugged. the dry wood snapped, and suddenly the tumbleweed broke free.

        "oh!" she cried, as she fell back onto her rump. "I-I hope I didn't hurt you, mister tumbleweed," she said, smiling slightly as the rambunctious weed spun around her in circles. It seemed to hop slightly, though it could have just been the wind.

        "Oh, I'm so glad. Go on, now, off you go!"

        The weed gave another rotation, hopping in the air again, before bouncing off into the distance with the tiniest of puffs of dust.

        "You're welcome!" she cried, after the disappearing dot.

        "Fluttershy? What in tarnation are you doin'? Who you talkin' to?" asked AJ, the golden-coloured mare trotting up besides the timid pegasus.

        "Oh! AJ! I, er, was just... nothing!" she squeaked.

        AJ raised an eyebrow, peering off into the distance. Weren't nothing there but dust and prairie, she noticed. She shook her head, "Come on, 'shy, s'time fer supper."

        "Okay," said Fluttershy, smiling. She ruffled her wings as AJ trotted impatiently off. Turning back to the desert, which was by now bathed in an ruddy orange glow as the sun went down, the yellow pegasus shook herself out. Good deeds were their own reward, she mused. If she'd gone straight in, she never would have seen this sunset. "Goodbye!" she called, though the weed itself was far out of sight. "Good luck!"

***

        Seasons come, and seasons go. All things twist and turn about, end over end, in their ceaseless journey from past to present. Nothing and nobody knows that better than a tumbleweed. tumbleweeds, though, don't live in the past, and they don't live for the future, they live in the perpetual now, caring nothing but for the joy of the open plains.

        And right now, for one tumbleweed, such simple pleasures were tantalizingly out of reach - because it could not forget. It had been trapped, once. it, the manifestation of the breath of life itself, had been trapped. And a little, butter-yellow pegasus had freed it. She'd asked nothing in return, had expected no boon, and had gone on her way. But in this, the tumbleweed could not rest. It circled a tree, lazily, as it pondered - in as much as a creature born of earth and air can ponder. No, it simply would not do. Tumbleweeds were made to tumble, and that pegasus had returned the gift of the prairie to it. She had to be thanked, somehow. The tumbleweed wasn't sure what thanks were, nor how to give them, but the sentiment was pure. It made a decision: it would seek out this strange, yellow creature with the pink strands of hair and, somehow, thank it.

        the wind changed direction, sweeping in from the west, and the tumbleweed began its long journey to the east.

***

        Sometimes, it seems the desert goes on forever. Mile after open mile of sand and scrub, of dust and brush, but eventually, all things change. So it was with the great appleloosan desert, replacing more and more grass with less and less sand and rock. Eventually, there was no sand at all, and instead a carpet of green stretched from horizon to horizon. This made things somewhat difficult, for the little tumbleweed; it wasn't used to such impediments to motion. For seeming aeons, at times, it would be caught by the long, wavering stalks, and all but buried in fecundity - but as the wind wills, so moves the tumbleweed.

        Eventually, the tumbleweed figured out to use the paths. Wind and water are much the same, taking the easiest route, however meandering that may be. And so it was, that the tumbleweed left behind the green swathe and entered a new domain. It shivered in the collection of leaves it had gathered about itself, desperate to retain some of that burning heat that it had loved so much in its old home on the range. it shivered as it left the open skies behind, and rolled on into the largest, tallest, most overwhelming patch of grass it had ever seen. here, the grass was gigantic; the stalks reached way up into the heavens, blotting out the sun. The grass was an odd colour, too, kind of brown, and very, very hard. It knew, on some level, that these new kinds of grasses weren't grass, but it had no words for them. It decided it needed new words, for to name something is to control it.

        It decided to call them *trees*, and the smaller ones *bushes*. Tumbling and hopping from clearing to clearing, the tumbleweed reasoned it felt better, now. Trees weren't so scary, nowhere near as scary as grass-thats-too-tall-to-be-grass. So it was a bit dark. and... and wet - yes, that was a good word for having far too much water around - for what a tumbleweed usually dealt with. No matter, he said to himself, he would--

        he.

        That was new.

        The tumbleweed thought about it for a while, rolling in circles. Yes... he. Not only was the... the *forest* different to the prairie, but *he* was different too, now he was here. It made sense, after all. He was a creature of the wind, and the earth, and the sun and the rain... tumbleweeds didn't live in forests, but he was in a forest... so what was he?

        He would have to find out. he tumbled on.

        Some forests are deep. some forests are dark. some forests are both. The everfree forest was most definitely deep, and most definitely dark. it had been placed upon Equestria aeons ago, and would last for aeons yet. it held within in ancient mysteries, and lost civilisations, and terrors untold, and creatures of all stripes and shapes.

        It also held one very, very tired, very lost and very lonely tumbleweed.

        Lonely was a new word, too. Lonely was what it felt like to no longer have the sky for a companion, to no longer hear the whispers of the wind, to no longer feel the touch of the sun.

        Tumble was lonely, and cold, and wet, and tired. He clawed himself inch by in through the tangled, twisting maze of branches, and for the first time was wondering if he'd made a good decision. Claws were a new thing, too. when Sister Wind had left him, for a long time he'd been more stuck than ever before, even that one time he'd had to have been saved by the yellow pegasus. But Tumble hadn't accepted his fate. He'd pulled in more sticks and twigs, and leaves and even strands of grass and clumps of moss, and had fashioned himself limbs with which to move, ears with which to hear and eyes with which to see. He no longer rolled, he walked. He had a nose which could smell the air, and a tail which pointed where the wind was blowing. He wasn't sure what he was yet, but one thing was still clear. He was a small creature in a large world, and for the first time was feeling fear. Something had been following him for the last half hour, something with wings, claws and a ferocious beak - hence why he was crawling through the undergrowth rather than gallumphing along the path.

        Suddenly there was an ear-splitting screech, and a dark shadow flowed over the fulgent twilight. Tumble ran for it, darting out from under the brambles and streaking down the muddy path. wings fluttered and claws snatched as the giant roc grasped in vain for the creature made from sticks. Suddenly, there was a break in the canopy, and that's when the roc attack. It swooped down, and its claws grabbed at the once-tumbleweed, before powerful wings dragged them both skywards.

        Tumble cried out, suddenly finding voice, his howls of pain echoing from horizon to horizon. in desperation, he opened a bramble-filled maw and snapped at the leg as it held him fast. Sometimes all that lies between  death and life, is chance, and a will to not give in. For Tumble, fate smiled that day. his teeth, puny little spikes of blackberry stalks though they were, caught the roc right between the talons, and sank in. It screamed in agony, opening both beak and claw, and Tumble did what he did best - tumbled. Down he fell, down and down, crashing through the canopy of leaves, slamming through branches and finally landing in a heap in a clearing.

        That was almost the end, except for the sun - the glorious sun. It warmed him, once more. It shone, high in the blue, blue sky, and sang songs of a home he barely remembered. Tumble couldn't ignore it; he got up, though his new legs were twisted. He rose, though his tail was bent. He ambled slowly, unsure of himself, as he finally emerged from the forest, and with the last of his waning strength, began to explore. It was a whole new world, a whole new experience of sights, sounds and smells, and full of promise. He had almost made it. He wasn't sure, now, how much longer he had. Tumbleweeds lived forever in their timeless paradise, but since beginning his journey, he had grown aware of change, or past and present,and finally future. But he had tried, that was the important thing, he had tried. Limping slowly, as one paw wouldn't quite hold him any longer, he found a comfortable spot to curl up and sleep forever in. He had been a tumbleweed, free to roam the plains of the endless prairie, and he had roamed further than any tumbleweed before. he could rest, happy, even if he hadn't--

        "Oh, you poor thing!" sang a voice. Hoofsteps came closer, and the sound of wings rustling. Tumble opened one eye as a shape loomed above him. Butter yellow, with a pink shock of mane and tail, and wide, welcoming wings that scooped him up into their embrace. "You're hurt! Let Mama Fluttershy take good care of you, I'll make sure you're all better from the top of your nose right down to the very tippy-tip of your tail!"

        Fluttershy. He had done it. Gratefully, he collapsed.

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