Chapter Five

The Zephyr and the Storm

All was silent. A still, comforting darkness pressed in on all sides, and she was free from thought, from pain, from guilt.

In truth, if this was death, it was a pleasant enough state. A deep, soothing warmth that she had not felt in months soaked through her. A voice, gentle and indistinct, was murmuring in her ear, its words indecipherable but its tone unmistakably one of reassurance. She could feel long, sweeping caresses running the length of her neck and back.

“You’re nearly there,” the voice of gentle encouragement sounded again, the words clearer this time. “Please wake up for me, Trixie.”

Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Then, with a dull sense of foreboding, Trixie realized that she was aware of her body. That could only mean one thing; she was still alive. Somehow, incredibly, she had survived.

She shifted in place, ever so slightly. Her extremities were utterly numb, but that pleasant warmth still washed over her. Some soft, thick fabric lay across her midriff, and the surface beneath her was plush and yielding.

Above her, she heard a sigh of relief, and felt its bloom of breath dancing against her ear. “Oh, thank goodness.”

With an enormous effort of will, Trixie cracked her eyes open. She was dazzled for a moment by the light, but as her vision adjusted, the room gradually came into focus. She was lying on her back, on a large and comfortable sofa. A duvet lay over her supine form, much thicker and warmer than the blanket that had been her only source of warmth for the last few days. The room was full of the warm crackle of flames, and occasionally a low hum of birdsong broke the air.

None of that mattered, though.

She was looking straight into those deep, aquamarine eyes. The primrose pegasus was leaning over her, a concerned, fearful sympathy etched in her gaze. A large sticking plaster covered much of her right temple, but there were still a few flecks of dried blood spattered across her forehead. The mare gave a small, shy smile.

“How do you feel?”

There was nothing that Trixie could do, but for some reason, no panic rose in her throat, and her heart did not begin to hammer. She could no longer summon up any will or reason to try and leave. She was still only semi-lucid, but was aware of half-rising into a sitting position, the duvet falling away from her. She gazed unblinkingly at the pegasus, feeling all but transfixed.

The mare blushed a little at being watched so intently, but spoke firmly. “Please lie down, you’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Trixie opened her mouth to speak. She needed to apologize, she had to apologize for so much more than could be expressed in the petty, transient world of words. She needed to know who this mare was, to know why she cared, to know how she could possibly have brought Trixie back alive. She needed to speak, but she could not summon even a single word.

Her throat was choked up, and her eyes suddenly stung hot with tears as the cruel claws of perspective dug into her mind again. This time, though, they felt weakened by the warmth of the air and the kindness of this mare’s gaze.

I have to go… I’ve taken so much from her, I already owe her so much, I… The train of thought slowed, tailed away, and then, at long last, burned out once and for all. She gave in. Oh Celestia, what’s the use?

The final remnants of her old, rhetorical façade crumbled away like ashes in the wind. She wanted to stay here; she wanted to care and be cared for. Idiotic unrequited attractions be damned, she wanted to talk and listen and laugh again. She wanted to be a part of the world again.

Before she so much as realized what she was doing, Trixie had embraced the mare whose name she did not know, pulling her close in a tight, impulsive hug.

She began to cry openly, and buried her face into the pegasus’s shoulder. For a second, the pony in her forelegs froze with surprise, giving a miniscule squeak, but then she gradually relaxed, reciprocating the embrace with a small, happy sigh. The primrose mare, visibly relieved that Trixie was no longer trying to run away from her, sank down on the couch beside the shaking unicorn. She began gently stroking Trixie’s mane as she sobbed, the sapphire mare’s tears soaking into the silk-soft fur of her shoulder.

Trixie tried to form words, tried to force an apology from her mutinous throat, but was met with little success. The pegasus seemed to understand what she was trying to communicate however.

“Shh,” she cooed, murmuring into Trixie’s ear. “I don’t want you to apologize to me.” That voice, heard at such intimate proximity, made the hairs rise on the former showmare’s neck.

“I… b-but I…”

“No!” The mare cut across Trixie’s muffled, broken words, her voice dropping to a whisper, but somehow sharper and more insistent as she cradled the tearful unicorn closer to her. “I want you to get better. I want to help you, not blame you.”

Still, Trixie clung to the mare as if she alone were buoyant and warm, suspended in a freezing ocean. She realized, with a rush of emotion, that this was the first time she had touched, or had any close contact with another pony in over a year. Somehow, the thought caused the flow of tears to redouble. Perhaps she had half-forgotten what an embrace felt like, or perhaps this mare truly was unique. Nevertheless, she felt her fear and uncertainty, even some measure of her guilt, draining away.

For those few precious minutes, all that needed to exist was the pony in her hooves, the velvet softness of her fur, her glowing warmth, the caress of her voice… At that moment, Trixie felt no romantic desire or erotic pleasure from the contact, reveling instead in the simple affection of the gesture.

Very briefly, her throat re-opened itself, allowing her to phrase one simple question. It was a question that had haunted her waking and sleeping mind for the past few days, one with such a range of possible answers that it seemed almost crass to couch it in such blunt terms.

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Fluttershy,” the pegasus whispered, still stroking Trixie’s mane in long, calming sweeps. The unicorn felt her sobs lessening in intensity and frequency as she turned the name over in her mind, connecting it with the face she felt she knew so well. It was a good fit, she decided.

“W-why did you… why save me?” she asked haltingly, still a little choked. “I didn’t deserve it; I hurt you.”

“I’ve looked after creatures all my life,” murmured Fluttershy. Trixie was almost a perfect stranger to her, but she seemed to understand how starved the unicorn was of comfort, and how much she needed reassurance, for she made no attempt to pull away from the hug. Instead, she lay down beside the tearful sapphire mare, so that they were facing each other on the sofa, and she continued to cradle her warmly in her forelegs as she spoke. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been bitten or scratched, but every time, I know that they lashed out because they were afraid, not because they meant to hurt me. It doesn’t make me want to help them any less. It didn’t make me want to help you any less.”

“But...”

“It was my fault,” said the pegasus, firmly. “I should have said something to you, I shouldn’t have crept up on you like that. I was a fool, and you paid the price for it. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

Trixie closed her eyes; meeting that gentle aquamarine gaze was almost painful. “I’ve got more than just… just today to apologize for though, haven’t I?” she muttered. “And the food; the blanket, all of it… after what I’d done, most ponies would’ve left me to die. Why help me?”

She felt the pegasus lean in, shyly nuzzling away the final tear that had encroached onto Trixie’s cheek. “Because you needed help,” she whispered, simply.

Fluttershy let the comfortable silence hang for a moment.“Anyway, you were in the early stages of hypothermia when I found you,” she continued, quietly, a slight shake in her tone. “I went after you; I followed your tracks. You were…” Her voice broke a little. “I thought you were… I thought I was too late. I found you lying in a snowdrift, and the look on your face was just… I’ll be honest, you looked glad to be there,” as she finished the sentence, a note of something close to fear had crept into her voice.

“So, I brought you back,” she added, softly. “My house was near, and there wasn’t time to get you to the hospital. You needed to warm up gradually, otherwise you may well have lost a hoof to frostbite.”

Trixie tried to reply, but even such a simple action as speech was suddenly exhausting to her. In truth, the situation still felt like a dream to her; tiredness weighed her down and her legs still pulsed with the numbing ache that comes after prolonged cold.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper at length, relaxing in the grip of the mare who had saved her life. Fluttershy felt so impossibly, soporifically warm; her fur was shifting satin, the beat of her heart steady and reassuring. Trixie could feel sleep rising inside her, her eyelids like lead weights.

Thoughts swirled idly in her head, as she felt Fluttershy cuddle closer to her. For such an obviously shy mare, the tender gesture was surprising, particularly towards a pony she barely knew; a pony who had proven herself to be unpredictable and dangerous. Somehow, though, the embrace did not seem simply an act of giving.

It crossed Trixie’s mind that maybe this mare needed comfort and affection every bit as much as she herself did. Maybe that was why she kept so many animals; to keep at bay the loneliness that would undoubtedly come with such a retiring personality. Maybe she saw in Trixie a kindred spirit; those same years of isolation that never could be left behind. The unicorn had seen it all too plainly in those aquamarine eyes; a hint of remembered solitude.

It was true that they had only met and exchanged their first words mere minutes ago, but it would be a lie to suggest that these mares did not know one another.

With a small sigh, Trixie gently nuzzled at Fluttershy's shoulder, this time intending to offer a comforting gesture of her own, rather than taking reassurance herself. Physicality in this way was its own language; the nuances of a warm, drowsy embrace could speak in far more detail than Trixie could meaningfully articulate.

Softly, the pegasus resumed the stroking of Trixie’s mane, her voice falling to a comforting murmur. “You just rest now. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

“I know,” Trixie mumbled, feeling herself drifting away. So will you, she added in her mind; although, she did not speak the words aloud.

Before sleep took her, the last thought that flitted across her mind was that she would gladly spend the rest of her days resting in the embrace of this mare. After a year of hardship and isolation, it was remarkable how warm this winter suddenly felt.

The morning was wearing on into early afternoon, but Fluttershy never let her slumbering charge out of her sight. After she was quite sure that Trixie was peacefully asleep, it was not without a little reluctance that she pulled carefully away from the unicorn’s embrace, to make some lunch and feed her animals.

Her behaviour had been strange, she reflected as waited for the kettle to come to a boil. Ordinarily, she could scarcely talk to ponies she did not know, let alone embrace them and whisper comfort in their ears without so much as a trace of a blush.

She glanced through into the living room, and smiled at the sight of Trixie’s sleeping form. This time, her cheeks did colour a little, thinking back on how open and unguarded she had been with her affection. She knew all too well how it would have looked to an outsider, but she trusted Trixie to not misread her kindness.

Despite everything, she could not help but trust the mare. More than that; she felt as if she knew her, or understood her at the very least. Trixie had quite obviously spent far too much of her life in solitude; she needed comfort and reassurance. Above all, she needed somepony else to offer her affection, and a willing ear. In truth, Fluttershy sometimes wondered if she needed much the same. Her friends were wonderfully supportive, but none of them had experienced the same long, friendless years that she had.

Looking back, she had been clinging to Trixie every bit as urgently as the former showmare had held onto her. It had felt like symbiosis; a mutual comfort and kindness that none of her friends, equine or animal, could quite provide her with. She sighed minutely, as she idly cobbled together a hay-and-daisy sandwich, but the sound was a contented one.

Later that day, she knew she needed to visit Applejack, and apologize profusely for the confusion and worry she had doubtlessly caused her friend. She had no idea what she was going to say; she hoped the farm-pony would accept the truth without being too difficult about the matter of Trixie. Regarding the unicorn, Fluttershy knew very few answers herself about Trixie’s motivation or true personality, so answering Applejack’s inevitable questions would be all but impossible.

Her head still throbbed a little from where it had struck the hard wooden doorframe, but to her relief, she had apparently avoided a concussion. In truth, she was burning with questions of her own.

Now that Trixie was willing to stay, now that she was allowing Fluttershy to give her the care she so obviously needed, the pegasus reflected that she might be able to find some answers to the many mysteries that surrounded the sapphire mare. What had Trixie been doing in the forest? Had she been there ever since she had run away from Ponyville? What had driven her to the life she had led before?

Suppressing a slight shudder, Fluttershy could not help but wonder if Trixie’s overbearing, arrogant personality would return the moment she had recovered her strength and independence. However, she somehow doubted that it would. Something had changed in the unicorn’s eyes, and the way she had embraced Fluttershy had communicated a kind of desperation, as if she had been utterly lost, and simply needed somepony to whom she could cling.

Maybe Trixie would remember her from before; a silent, nervous face in the crowd, unable to step forward and provide a challenge of her own. Fluttershy had watched in silence, indignant at the treatment of her friends, but somehow unable to conjure any emotion but pity for the mare on the stage. She had known at the time that here was a pony who lived behind a mask. Now, however, seeing through the broken façade, it was difficult to imagine the former showmare returning to the life that had damaged her so deeply.

But without that life, Fluttershy wondered, what did Trixie have in its place? Another mystery that she would have to address, as soon as the unicorn was once again lucid.

She was walking across the living room, lost in introspection and bearing two bowls of animal feed, when somepony rapped loudly on the door. Fluttershy jumped, and one of the bowls clattered to the floor, scattering vegetables across the hearthrug.

Hoping that the knocking had not awoken Trixie, she trotted to the door as quietly as possible, leaving the bowl where it lay for the moment. Just before she could open the door, whoever was waiting on the doorstep knocked again, hard and impatient.

“I’m coming, I’m—” The words died in her throat as she pulled the door ajar. She hung her head shamefacedly, blushing at the sight of her visitor. She should have expected this. It was Applejack, and the look on her face was torn somewhere between concern and anger.

“Thank Celestia, you’re here! Now what in the hay is goin’—”

“Shh!” Fluttershy waved her down, stepping outside to join her friend, and pulling the front door shut behind them, so that they could talk without fear of disturbing the resting Trixie.

As soon as they were both outside, she took a deep breath, meeting the farm-pony’s eyes. “I’m really, really sorry to run off on you like that, AJ,” she blurted out, watching Applejack’s expression, anxiously. The mare seemed more worried than annoyed, but nevertheless, Fluttershy realized that it was time to come clean.

When Applejack spoke again, her voice was quieter. “Sugarcube, what’s goin’ on? And what happened to your head?” She gestured towards the sticking plaster across Fluttershy’s temple, noting with slight alarm the flecks of blood still caught in her fur.

“Applejack, I need you to promise me not to tell anypony about this; not even the girls.” The pegasus pawed nervously at the ground. “And… I need you to hear me out, okay?”

The earth pony nodded, a little grimly, as if prepared for the worst. “I’m listenin’.”

“I needed to go and find somepony,” Fluttershy began, quietly. “She was nearly dead when I caught up with her, if I’d wasted any time explaining I’d have lost her. She’s been living out in the Everfree forest, and she’s been coming into my garden to take food. She needed my help, and I saw her on the farm earlier… I had to go after her, and bring her back.”

Applejack scratched the back of her head with a forehoof, looking a little puzzled. “Somepony’s been loiterin’ in your garden? Ya’ll should’ve told me, I’d have come with ya.”

“Yes, but… AJ, promise me you’ll hear me out in this. She’s different now, she really is.” Fluttershy gulped, minutely, utterly unsure of how her friend would react. After Trixie had first run away, Applejack’s comments about her had probably been the least complimentary, perhaps after Rainbow Dash’s.

“Who is it, hon?” The orange mare’s gaze was deliberately impassive.

“It’s… It’s Trixie,” Fluttershy muttered. “Remember her? She’s resting inside now, when I found her she was almost dead from the cold, and she needs sleep. That’s why I wanted you to keep your voice down.”

Applejack’s eyes had widened. “Trixie?” She raised one eyebrow, snorting a little. “Well, I’ll be danged. She’s got some nerve showin’ up in these parts again.” She made a move for the front door. “There’s a few things I’d like to ask her, if that’s—”

“It’s not okay,” said Fluttershy firmly, moving to block her friend’s path. “She needs sleep. She nearly died, Applejack. I know she tied you up, and if you want her to apologize you can talk to her later. I can’t stop you from going in, you know I can’t, but… please don’t.” Her voice was almost a whisper by the final word. When she looked up and met Applejack’s gaze again, she was surprised to see an expression of something close to hurt on her face.

“Ya think it’s because she tied me up?” The earth pony’s voice was almost as quiet as Fluttershy’s, but far less calm. “No. No, it wasn’t that. Obviously, I don’t think any more of her for doin’ that, but it don’t really make any odds.” She shook her head. “She was a coward, Fluttershy. She nearly got everypony I care for killed, but did she stay an’ face the music? Did she apologize?” Her voice rose as she spat out the last word. “No. She ran away, an’ that’s what I can’t forgive.”

Fluttershy raised a forehoof in surrender. “Look, AJ. I… I know what she did was wrong, but I think she does too. She seems different now. Please, just let her rest. I know it sounds like hindsight talking, but when I saw her up on that stage I felt… I felt sorry for her. She was hiding from something, hiding behind her act. There’s more to her than what you saw, AJ. I know it.”

Applejack looked exasperated. “Ya felt sorry for her? Fluttershy, I know you try an’ see the best in everypony, but there’s gotta be a limit! How come you didn’t even trust me enough ta tell me what was goin’ on?”

“I do trust you, AJ,” Fluttershy murmured, her tone placating. “But I didn’t tell you, because I knew you’d react like this.”

“What happened to your head?” Applejack pointed at the injury, ignoring her friend’s question and changing the subject brusquely. Fluttershy felt her heart sink.

“Oh… It’s nothing, it’s just—”

“Did she do that to you?” The farm-pony’s voice rose in anger.

Fluttershy’s tone was almost pleading now. “AJ, it wasn’t her fault…”

“She did! She hurt you, didn’t she?”

“She didn’t mean to, she just—”

Applejack snorted, furiously. “Okay, Fluttershy,” she snapped, obviously forcing herself to remain calm. “I’m not gonna go barging into your house if’n ya don’t want me to. But you tell her from me; once she’s got her strength back, she’d better have some damn good answers. Tell her that she’s gonna have to answer to me, because nopony hurts mah friends.”

The pegasus felt a cold spike of anger flare up in her chest. “I’m not telling her anything,” she said, quietly, her voice suddenly icy. “I found her, I brought her back, and I don’t care that she hurt me. She was terrified and she lashed out, and I don’t hold that against her. She’s my responsibility, and she’s nopony else’s business.”

“The hay she ain’t!” Applejack’s voice rose indignantly. “What about when she gets better, eh? Have ya’ll thought about that? When she gets all better an’ goes off, an’ leaves ya in the dust, how’s all that kindness gonna look then? I know ponies like that, Fluttershy. They don’t change, an’ you’re a fool if you think she will!”

“Oh really?” Fluttershy’s voice had risen too, and her wings had flared angrily. “Well, I’ve got news for you, AJ. Just because you’ve got no faith in ponies anymore, that doesn’t mean that I’ve become just as cynical. You’ve always been so impatient; you’ve got to dive right in and make a mess of everything! And you know what?” She was actually hovering a few inches above the ground now. “If you’d been able to slow down a little, maybe Rainbow Dash would still be in your bed, and not Pinkie Pie’s!”

As soon as the words crossed her lips, she knew how cruel they were, but she could not help but derive a sense of vindictive pleasure from Applejack’s expression. She looked as if Fluttershy had kicked her in the face. The words must have hurt ten times more for coming from the one mare who had helped her through the painful, messy separation. In truth, the pegasus knew that she was being unfair, that faults lay with both sides and that the split had been mutual, but Applejack had expressed the one nagging fear that had been lurking in the back of Fluttershy’s own mind.

What about when she gets better?

Applejack showed no sign of speaking. She was gazing at Fluttershy with an expression that was quite unreadable. Turning away from the silent farm-pony, the pegasus stalked back inside her house without a backwards glance, and shut the door with a sharp click. There was nothing more to be said.

Then, all was silent. Now that she was alone, now she had time to collect her thoughts, the cold enjoyment drained from her chest. Rapidly, it was replaced by a terrible, clawing, acidic guilt. Her eyes filled with tears; she still believed that Applejack had no right to come barging in and further traumatizing a mare who needed peace and comfort, but Fluttershy knew that deliberately twisting the knife in an already deep wound was quite unforgivable of her, no matter the circumstances.

You can be a cruel mare when you want to be, Fluttershy.

She looked quickly across the room at the couch, and was relieved to see that Trixie was still deeply asleep.

I don’t want to be cruel.

You know what the solution is, then.

That was the worst part of these times; times when her reserves of courage turned sour, and led her to acts of cruelty. There was always the time when she was forced to confront what she had said, and the damage that she could so easily have done. It was a lesson she had learned months ago, when her newfound confidence had run away with her; the expressions of horrified shock on Rarity and Pinkie Pie's faces still haunted her memory. Cruelty was delicious at the time, but its aftertaste was incredibly bitter.

With an inwardly-directed groan, she turned back to the door, her eyes still shining with tears. She did not want to do this; she did not have to face the things she had just said to one of her best friends, but it was the only solution.

The pulled the door ajar again, the first silent tear soaking into the fur of her cheek. To her surprise, Applejack was still there, her expression still impossible to read. Fluttershy hung her head, stepping shyly out to face her friend.

“AJ…” she murmured, tentatively. “AJ, I’m… I’m…”

"Say it." Applejack's gaze was fixed intently upon her, although Fluttershy could see no anger in her gaze. "Say you're sorry." She bit her lip. "I… I just need t'hear it before I can talk about this, 'kay?"

"Oh Celestia, Applejack, I'm sorry." The words constricted themselves in the back of Fluttershy's throat, but she spoke them without hesitation. "That was horrible of me, I never meant, I just..." Her voice trailed weakly away, and silence fell between them for a few moments.

When she spoke, Applejack’s voice was scarcely audible. “You’re right, that’s what you are. You're sorry for sayin' it, but neither of us can rightly say it ain't true.”

Fluttershy shook her head. “No…. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I’ve got no business interfering, Fluttershy.” The farm pony sighed. “I wasn’t thinkin’ straight, I jus' saw red when I heard she was here. If'n you believe she’s different now, then I oughta trust your judgment.”

The pegasus sniffed. “But… I mean, what I said about you and Rainbow. I didn’t mean it; not for a second. I’m so, so sorry AJ, that was cruel of me.” She pawed at the ground again, blinking hard.

Applejack gave a wan smile. “You were afraid, ‘Shy. You were afraid of what I was gonna do, an’ I reckon you were even a little afraid that I might turn out to be right about her. Jus' for a second, y'all wanted to hurt me to stop me from hurting her. You were scared, an’ you lashed out.” She gestured to the scabbed-over cut on Fluttershy's forehead. “If you can forgive gettin' hurt that way so easily, then I don’t see why I can’t, too. We’ll say no more about it, ‘kay?” She reached out, offering her forehoof.

Smiling shyly, Fluttershy touched the pad of her forehoof to her friend's. “Thanks, AJ,” she whispered warmly.

“I’m not sayin’ I’m happy about this,” Applejack warned, quietly. “I trust you, an’ if you vouch for her then I guess that’s fine by me, but she’s got a long way to go before I’ll trust her.” She suddenly looked deadly serious. “I’m not gonna hold a grudge against her, an I don’t wanna go interrogatin’ her about stuff in the past; you’re gonna learn the truth about all that yourself, I’d wager. But there’s one thing I won’t go back on; if she hurts you, if she lets you down, then she really will have me to answer to.”

Fluttershy blinked back tears again, nuzzling her friend’s cheek in gratitude. “That’s fine by me,” she murmured. “But I’m sure it won’t come to that.” Pulling back, she met the farm-pony’s eyes with a look of slight concern. “You won’t tell anypony about her, will you?”

Applejack nodded, solemnly. “Not until you give the word, sugarcube.”

The pegasus smiled, breathing a small sigh of relief.

You need to be careful where you direct your anger, Fluttershy.

It made her stop and think, didn’t it? And what happened? She calmed down, thought about what she was doing, and listened to me.

Don’t try to rationalize this; it was a horrible thing to say, and you can’t make excuses for it. Couldn’t you see how defensive you were? You’ve found somepony else you genuinely care about, Fluttershy, but unlike the others, this one needs protecting. You’ve seen how aggressive animals become when they’re nesting; when they’ve got something to defend. The worst part is, whenever you're cruel, whenever you get that power over others, some little part of you likes it. Can’t you see how dangerous that makes you?

It’s not like that at all, I…

It doesn’t matter what it’s ‘like’. That protectiveness is there, it doesn’t matter what emotions have stirred it up. You have an urge to look after those in need; you’d behave in the same way if your animals were threatened. But you need to understand that you can't say things like that to your friends; not if you want to keep your friends. You were lucky that AJ could see why you said what you did; if she thought you really meant all that, you'd have lost her. You'd have deserved to lose her. There are two sides to you, Fluttershy. You’d just better remember which side your friends deserve.

Behind her, Trixie mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, half-rolling over, her face for once untroubled and peaceful. All too often, a pony’s character could be read quite plainly in their unguarded sleep, and not a hint of the old arrogant sneer could be seen blighting Trixie’s features, which, without the mask of condescension, were remarkably soft and pleasant. It was the face of a pony willing to rebuild herself, and who, this time, might just be able to change for the better.

Trixie would not abandon her; of that Fluttershy had no doubt. Looking at the sleeping mare, she knew that she had nothing to fear. Except, maybe, from herself.

Perhaps it would not be easy, but the future certainly looked to be an interesting one.