Biochaotic [Chapter 4]


                                            Biochaotic [Chapter 4]


                                            >By the gauge of the sun, it’s been about a few hours now.

                                            >The morning haze has given way to the clarity of day and the coolness of the night has long dispersed under the sun’s benevolent rays.

                                            >You’ve long allowed yourself to cool down at this point.

                                            >Fluttershy’s temperature has been stable for quite a while now, though you have no need to leave her side.

                                            >In fact, you’re rather content as you are.

                                            >Carefully watching every errant bird glide by on the temperate spring breeze that washes itself over the vibrant landscape before you.

                                            >You’re in a small valley between a few hills, meaning that there isn’t a whole lot to look at besides that.

                                            >Though, a while of carelessly allowing your gaze to wander rewards you with a distant find.

                                            >Far off, in the very side of a towering mountain, is a massive structure of some sort.

                                            >As impressive of a find as it may be, it does little to hold your attention like the nature far closer to you does.

                                            >You simply return your focus to the sound of the wind, the texture of the grass, and the vivid sky above.

                                            >Something about all of it just feels so right to you.

                                            >Then again, biology is kinda your thing, so you suppose it makes sense that it does.

                                            >Still, even when you first arrived here and laid under that tree, it doesn’t compare to this feeling right now.

                                            >And it’s all capped off by the occasional glance at the peacefully resting mare beside you.

                                            >For the first time in a long time, minutes fly before your eyes.

                                            >Before you even know it, you hear movement next to you.

                                            >Fluttershy takes a deep breath and does one of those laying-morning-stretches before letting out a deep sigh.

                                            >As she lifts her head from the ground, she rubs her eyes, attempting to clear what sleep may remain in them.

                                            >You look to the sun, and by your estimation it must be about noon at this point.

                                            >She certainly slept in today.

                                            >Not that you blame her.

                                            >It must’ve been a really long night for her…

                                            >She finishes clearing her vision to some degree of satisfaction before taking in her surroundings.

                                            >It definitely looks like someone threw her through the wringer.

                                            >Her mane and tail, while now dry, are unnaturally knotted and fall messily along the ground.

                                            >Her coat follows suit, though to a much lesser extent.

                                            >As her gaze wanders, it eventually falls onto you, underneath her wing.

                                            >A relieved smile appears on her face as soon as you lock eyes.

                                            >For some reason, it fills your stomach with butterflies.

                                            >"Did you sleep well?"

                                            >You?

                                            >Is she serious?

                                            >She’s had what you can only assume must’ve been an absolutely miserable night, and the first thing her mind goes to when she wakes up… is you?

                                            >You’re not even sure how to reply other than simply nodding your head at her.

                                            >She smiles more brightly than before, an invisible weight seemingly lifted off of her.

                                            >”That’s good.”

                                            >It's at that moment that she takes particular notice of the disorder of her mane before returning to you with an odd smile.

                                            >"There was a little rain last night, but nothing too bad."

                                            >A little rain?

                                            >Yeah right.

                                            >Her mane is so fucked up there's no way that rain was anything less than torrential.

                                            >You would know.

                                            >She looks up to the sky, supposedly observing the position of the sun.

                                            >"Oh dear. I guess I slept in, didn’t I?"

                                            >Turning back to you with that same askew, yet captivating smile, she draws her wing in from over you and slowly stands herself up.

                                            >While you internally protest the sacrifice of your extremely comfortable spot, you immediately stand with her.

                                            >”We’ll have to make up for missing breakfast. But first let’s go get you cleaned up.”

                                            “Me? What about you?”

                                            >You gesture a hoof at her to accentuate your point.

                                            >She simply giggles at your physical exaggeration before patting you on the head.

                                            >”I’m not the only one here with a severe case of bedhead silly.”

                                            >Oh shit.

                                            >You feel your mane, finding it possibly just as bad as hers.

                                            >It’s knotted and grimy, probably on account of you also sleeping in the wet dirt last night.

                                            >You also happen to be genetically predisposed to severe bedhead syndrome…

                                            >But it's probably mostly because of the dirt…

                                            >Fluttershy giggles once more as she turns to walk back to what you presume is her house.

                                            >Instinctively, you follow her lead, carefully staying as close to her side as you can manage as she makes her way up the hill, towards home.

                                            >As you trail alongside her, you can’t help but notice something about her you didn’t see before.

                                            >On her flank is a strange marking that stands out from the rest of her coat.

                                            >Three small butterflies with blue bodies and pink wings.

                                            >They appear to actually be a part of her coat.

                                            >Perhaps it’s part of the culture here to dye fur in such a manner.

                                            >You fall back a little from her side to swing around to her other flank.

                                            >Surprisingly, it appears that the mark is mirrored perfectly onto the other flank as well.

                                            >Strange.

                                            >The rest of the journey back to her house remains pleasantly uneventful as you simply enjoy the wild, rolling countryside.

                                            >Once the abode is within eyesight, you take a moment to appreciate just how humble it is.

                                            >You didn't get a chance to really see it from the outside yesterday.

                                            >The inside was quaint and comfortable.

                                            >And while the outside certainly follows suit, the sheer amount of nature surrounding the place is nothing less than astounding to you.

                                            >The dirt path you're now following is flanked on either side by trees of all varieties and flowers of every color.

                                            >Any spot lacking such flora is filled by numerous small, fruit-bearing plants and herbs.

                                            >The path itself bridges over a small, rippling creek; the water of which hushedly laps over the rocks and pebbles at its bed, adding a certain layer of serenity to the scene.

                                            >Just beyond the bridge is the cottage itself -- and it clearly is a cottage.

                                            >Its outer walls are a light tan-yellow color, the only other prominent color being the green on the roof, which appears to be made entirely out of living leaves somehow.

                                            >All around the house and the surrounding trees are scattered birdhouses of many colors, a testament to the hidden fauna that must also reside here.

                                            >Pushing forward in the mare's wake, you trail behind Fluttershy as she gently swings the front door open and enters her rather comfortable home.

                                            >There's not much to note about the interior of the home except that all seems to have not been touched since last night.

                                            >A once steaming cup of tea now sits cold on the small end table of the couch.

                                            >The couch itself still lies semi-disrupted from you previously lying on it.

                                            >The tray with long spoiled treats still lies in a disordered state on the floor.

                                            >Fluttershy seems to take special note of these things as well.

                                            >She rubs the back of her head as she looks at the mild mess before her.

                                            >"Oh dear. Looks like I'll have to clean up a little around here first."

                                            >Turning to you, she once again brandishes that smile.

                                            >Soothing.

                                            >Caring.

                                            >Genuine.

                                            >And for once…

                                            >You think you actually believe those notions…

                                            >Her calm voice eases you back into reality from your daydreaming.

                                            >"I'll tidy up down here. You head upstairs and get yourself washed up. The bathroom is the second door from the top of the stairs."

                                            >The fact that she doesn't even ask you to help with the mess -- one that is arguably your fault -- once again leaves you somewhat speechless.

                                            >The selflessness of this mare seems to have no bounds.

                                            >You almost wish she would just ask for something in return already.

                                            >Whether that's due to your anxiousness at racking up debt or something else, you're not entirely sure.

                                            >Either way, you'd be a fool to argue with such kindness.

                                            >You just nod stupidly, as you have before, and start up the steps as Fluttershy begins picking up the mess from the floor.

                                            >The stairs are a bit awkward for someone of your stature to ascend, but you manage.

                                            >Surely enough, at the top of the staircase you pull a small U-turn and find a narrow hall with three doors lining one side, pictures adorning the other, and a window on the far wall.

                                            >A long green rug runs the length of the entire hall, small tassels splayed out at either end.

                                            >Walking past the first door, you push your way through the middle one, and sure enough, it’s about what you expected.

                                            >You now stand in a rather simplistic bathroom.

                                            >The walls are decorated in a subtle, floral wallpaper, accentuating the comparatively vivid brown hue of the ceramic tiles coating the entire floor.

                                            >Around the edge of the room are all of the commodities one would expect.

                                            >Toilet, sink, shower, soaps, towels on a towel rack, and even a full body mirror mounted low enough to the floor for you to see all of yourself.

                                            >Set into the far wall is a frosted glass, multi-paned window that allows diffused rays of white midday light to bask the room in a soft haze.

                                            >Like many other things today, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen something like this.

                                            >As you push the door closed, you find that the handle has one of those little turn style locks on it.

                                            >Why…

                                            >How…

                                            >That’s only fucking practical for things with fingers that can grab tiny--

                                            >You know what.

                                            >Not even gonna acknowledge it.

                                            >You simply turn the tiny lock with your large, flat, unwieldy hoof and move on with your life.

                                            >You approach the shower -- well, it's actually more of a shower-tub combo, but you'll just call it a shower -- and inspect the mechanism to make it work.

                                            >It appears to have only one handle.

                                            >Well, no way to fuck this up.

                                            >You reach in, past the shower curtain, and turn the lone handle as far as it will go.

                                            >And just like that, steaming water pours from the faucet, gently splattering water against the bottom of the tub, gradually filling it as you step in.

                                            >As the water continues to slowly rise around your hooves, you consider the idea of a shower instead.

                                            >Actually, yeah, showers are way better than baths.

                                            >You look around for maybe some kind of switch or other handle to activate good old shower mode, though nothing immediately stands out to you.

                                            >But you won't give up so easily!

                                            >There is a shower head here and for fucks sake you’re gonna use it!

                                            >You just need a little more time to look around.

                                            >The water is almost up to your torso at this point, and though it’s not yet threatening to spill over the edge of the tub, it’s probably best to pull the plug on it before it gets out of hand.

                                            >You plunge your head into the water and adjust your eyes into a form more suited for underwater viewing.

                                            >You feel a strange sense wash over you as you submerge yourself, though you quickly brush it off.

                                            >In front of you is the drain plug wedged firmly in its place and loosely secured to the rest of the tub by a thin chain.

                                            >You firmly take a hold of the chain with your teeth and yank the plug out of its socket.

                                            >As you return to the surface to catch your breath, you ease your eyes back into their normal configuration.

                                            >The water around you slowly begins to drain, though that strange feeling from before still lingers.

                                            >If anything it’s a little stronger than it was before.

                                            >In the midst of your thoughts, you’ve failed to recognize that unplugging the tub has, in fact, caused water from the tub faucet to be rerouted to the showerhead.

                                            >Meaning that you are promptly blasted in the face with what cold water was remaining in those pipes before it quickly warms up once more.

                                            >The combined surprise of suddenly being blasted by water and it being freezing cold in comparison to what you were used to proves to be enough to make even you let out a sort of yelp.

                                            >Almost immediately there are a few gentle knocks on the door.

                                            >”Is everything alright?”

                                            >Of fucking course…

                                            >She must have been walking past the door just as you made that sound.

                                            >Now you have to do the thing where you try to convince her that you’re not dead or dying in the shower.

                                            >You go to reply, but strangely find it difficult to do so.

                                            >That feeling from before is as strong as ever.

                                            >So much so that it’s even making you a little…

                                            >Twitchy…

                                            >It's not a normal type of twitch though.

                                            >Instead it's a kind of regular, rhythmic twitching that would remind one of a skipping record.

                                            >Every jolt equally interrupts your speech as it does your movements.

                                            >Still, you manage some kind of speech…

                                            "Y-Y-Y-Ye-Y-Yeah I-I'm-I'm f-f-fi-fi-fine."

                                            >Fuck.

                                            >It doesn't necessarily hurt, but it's uncomfortable as shit.

                                            >"Oh, is the water too cold? Just turn the handle all the way up, it should get warmer."

                                            >It's nearly impossible for you to control your body at the moment, though you manage to stumble out of the shower in some kind of attempt to regain your senses.

                                            "O-O-O-Okay, y-y-ye-yeah tha-tha-tha-O-O-Okay, y-yeah, tha-t-that sounds g-g-good."

                                            >...

                                            >"...Okay then… If there's anything else you need, just let me know."

                                            >And with that, the clip clop of hooves moves away from the door.

                                            >Not that you can be bothered to recognize that.

                                            >Your head's fucking spinning.

                                            >It can only be this damn water.

                                            >Mustering what mental faculties you still have, you heat your body up to unreasonable levels.

                                            >As minutes pass, the dizzying effect slowly evaporates away, along with the water in your coat.

                                            >No longer plagued by whatever the fuck that was, you allow your body to cool back down.

                                            >...

                                            >What the fuck even was that?

                                            >You approach the shower once more, though this time far more cautiously.

                                            >Upon inspecting the water, you can't notice anything out of the ordinary with it.

                                            >Looks like water, smells like water.

                                            >You even catch some in your mouth, just for a more in depth analysis.

                                            >It certainly tastes like water, but far more refreshing than you've had before.

                                            >No surprise there though.

                                            >You swallow.

                                            >With it in your stomach, you begin to analyze its chemical make-up.

                                            >Mineral content: Average

                                            >Pollutants: None

                                            >Radiation: Compliant with Background Levels

                                            >Everything points to this being normal water.

                                            >Even as you absorb what minerals there are in it, there are no apparent ill effects on you.

                                            >Very strange…

                                            >You stick a hoof into the falling stream of steaming water and let it sit for a moment before very slowly working all the way up your arm.

                                            >It’s only when your entire arm is wet that you start to feel a little off.

                                            >Seems like anything more than that being soaked would produce less than desirable results.

                                            >It’s also notable that there was no sensation until it had fully soaked through your coat.

                                            >That’s a good enough approximation for you, so you quickly withdraw your arm and heat-dry yourself once more.

                                            >Your hypothesis is that it’s only when the water begins soaking into your skin that you get affected.

                                            >To anyone else, this would be a problem in a world where one wishes to be clean, but for you it should be a trivial matter.

                                            >You manually adjust the structure of your skin so that it is no longer porous and stick your hoof in once more.

                                            >A few minutes of waiting is followed promptly by you finally stepping back into the warm stream of water.

                                            >It seems your theory holds up.

                                            >It only affects you when it soaks into your skin.

                                            >That does raise some questions about how you were able to safely drink it though…

                                            >Regardless, the important part is that you can deal with it, so long as you’re prepared for it.

                                            >Now, enough science, time for warm water.

                                            >And warm it is.

                                            >Even though you've turned the handle all the way up, and even though the water is steaming, it’s still at a very comfortable temperature.

                                            >You bask in the cascading heat of the shower, turning in place and allowing it to wash handily through your mane, down your back, and into your tail.

                                            >And while standing and letting the water work its magic all by itself is refreshing beyond belief, it will ultimately do little for the knotted state of your mane and tail.

                                            >In the shower, sitting on an inlet a little taller than you, is a bottle of what appears to be shampoo, based on the image of a pony with a rather luxurious flowing mane on it.

                                            >Could you just force your hair to be unknotted and smell like daisies without it?

                                            >Yes.

                                            >But you can’t recall the last time you’ve even thought about shampoo, so you bet your sweet bippy you’re gonna use it!

                                            >Thankfully this container is one of those pump ones, so that makes things rather convenient.

                                            >A solid fifteen minutes or so of lathering, washing, and simply enjoying the warmth surrounding you pass before you are satisfied.

                                            >With a single turn of the handle, the water comes to an abrupt halt.

                                            >You carefully replace the drain plug and step out onto the cool, brown tile floor below.

                                            >Though it’s a little high for you, you’re able to reach the bottom towel on the towel rack to dry yourself off.

                                            >It’s a little awkward to do so, given the relative strangeness of your body now, but you manage just fine.

                                            >When all is said and done, you’re left with a modestly damp mane and tail -- both now representing something a little closer to black spaghetti than hair -- as well as a mostly dry coat.

                                            >You’re no longer dripping wet, so you’ll just air dry the rest of the way.

                                            >There’s a rather conveniently placed hamper by the door that you gladly drop the towel into as you head out.

                                            >Feeling refreshed and invigorated, you nearly prance your way down the stairs.

                                            >The living room is now devoid of any evidence of the events of yesterday, having been tidied by Fluttershy while you were upstairs.

                                            >Almost immediately as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you find your nose gently piqued by the enticing aromas of something mysteriously delectable.

                                            >Following the smell, you round the corner of the doorway Fluttershy came from yesterday to reveal a quaint kitchen.

                                            >The counters and their tops are made of a medium quality wood.

                                            >Inlaid in the counters are drawers and cabinets of varying sizes.

                                            >A few cabinets even rest sparsely overhead in the corners of the room.

                                            >What any of them contains is anyone's guess, though you’re fairly certain it’s exclusively kitchen stuff.

                                            >Windows are set into two adjacent walls, letting in just enough light for comfortable operation under the right circumstances.

                                            >A lit stone oven resides in the center of the wall opposite of the doorway.

                                            >Small, dark metal stokers and pans rest on its edge, barely illuminated by the breathing embers within.

                                            >In the corner of the wall opposite of you is a door.

                                            >You can only presume it to be the back entrance of the house.

                                            >Working on one of the counters adjacent to the oven is Fluttershy herself, still caked in a mess of knotty hair.

                                            >She’s in the middle of using a wooden spatula to push a pancake off of a pan and onto a plate resting on the counter.

                                            >Once she’s done with the motion, she grabs the plate and turns to leave, caught slightly off guard by your presence.

                                            >”Oh, there you are. How was the bath?”

                                            >That voice.

                                            >You just can’t get enough of it.

                                            >So soothing.

                                            >So calm.

                                            >Not to mention that kindly smile that follows suit.

                                            “Actually, I got a shower instead.”

                                            >She smiles widely.

                                            >”Oh good! I didn’t realize that I didn’t tell you how to turn the showerhead on until I started making the pancakes. I was worried you might not figure it out.”

                                            >Her thoughtfulness knows no bounds.

                                            >You grin sheepishly as you rub the back of your head.

                                            “It took me a minute, but yeah, it was good.”

                                            >"I'm glad to hear it. Now, let's eat these before they get cold."

                                            >With a nod you set off in tow, following her into the living room.

                                            >She sets the plate of pancakes on the couch before hopping onto the side you had occupied yesterday.

                                            >You happily hop up onto the side opposite of her to get a better look at the platter she was carrying.

                                            >There are a decent amount of pancakes stacked up into a single tower, plenty to share.

                                            >Butter streams from in between each of them.

                                            >She must have been adding it to each one as she was stacking them up.

                                            >You can hardly resist the allure of something so beautiful.

                                            >Fluttershy seems to be waiting for you to go first, so you oblige.

                                            >Though, before you can actually grab one from the top of the stack, she interjects.

                                            >”Oh, I almost forgot! We need syrup!”

                                            >She hops off of the couch, quickly flying into the kitchen in her pursuit.

                                            >As you hear shuffling and rummaging in the other room, the presentation of the food keeps you ogling at it for the many minutes that pass by while you wait.

                                            >In any other situation, you would’ve caved under the enticing gaze of the delectable delicacies in front of you by this point, but under the stipulation of turning such a savory work of art into a masterpiece topped off with a sweet glazing, you restrain yourself for the moment.

                                            >Eventually, the sounds from the kitchen die down and Fluttershy reemerges from the doorway, though unexpectedly empty handed.

                                            >”Hm. I could’ve sworn I had some syrup around here, but I guess not.”

                                            >She hops back up to her seat on the couch.

                                            >”And I’m all out of tea too. I’ll have to do some shopping.”

                                            >She looks at you with an abashed grin.

                                            >”Sorry, it looks like we’ll have to eat them plain for now.”

                                            >While disappointing, you just focus on the pastries that you’re basically drooling over at this point, syrup or not.

                                            >Needing no more of a cue, you grab one of the pancakes from the top of the stack with your teeth and begin munching on it like a rabbit would munch on a dandelion.

                                            >Fluttershy giggles as she picks one up with her hoof and takes a bite.

                                            >Unlike last time, you’re in no real rush to scarf down your food like you were last night.

                                            >Sure you’re hungry, but the relatively good sleep you got last night has helped replenish some of your energy.

                                            >In this instance, you just quietly eat your treat while you enjoy the atmosphere of the room.

                                            >As both you and Fluttershy come to the end of your first pancakes, she speaks up.

                                            >”So, Flux. I hate to ask questions again, but…”

                                            >She seems to ponder on her next words quite carefully.

                                            >”Do you have a home?”

                                            >The words leave her mouth far more gently than any others she’s spoken to you so far.

                                            >The room seems to suddenly become even quieter than before.

                                            >You can tell it’s an uncomfortable question for her, most likely because she probably thinks it’s an uncomfortable question for you.

                                            >And you can’t really blame her, given your rather sudden reaction to her questions last night.

                                            >This time however, even through the bliss of delectable food, you find the question far easier to answer.

                                            “Well…”

                                            >Similarly to her, you think over your words carefully, staring at the cracks in the wood planks of the floor.

                                            “No.”

                                            >You let out a sigh through your nose.

                                            “I haven’t had one for a long time.”

                                            >You hear her shift in her seat a little before she speaks once more.

                                            >”...And your family?”

                                            >Admittedly, you do feel a small tug in your chest at the mention of the word.

                                            >your response falls flat from your mouth.

                                            “Gone.”

                                            >Well, at least anyone you considered family…

                                            >...

                                            >The feeling of pressure building up in your head forces you to close your eyes.

                                            >You drown it out by taking another pancake without looking and shoving it in your mouth.

                                            >Fluttershy seems to take this as the sign that you’re done talking for now and eats another one herself.

                                            >As the food helps wrangle your emotions, you simply focus on the fine details of the interior of the house.

                                            >The color of the floor, the mouse holes in the floorboards, the designs on lampshades.

                                            >Anything.

                                            >Coming to the end of both of your second pancakes, she asks another question, though this time pursuing a different line of inquiry.

                                            >”So, how did you end up in the Everfree?”

                                            >The question makes you pause.

                                            >You don’t want to lie to her, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to tell her the truth either…

                                            >You should just keep it vague for now…

                                            “I was just trying to get out of a bad situation.”

                                            >You grab another pancake from the stack and partake.

                                            >Fluttershy does the same.

                                            >A bad situation…

                                            >The thought of it brings something to mind.

                                            >You were Discord’s payment for something at the end of the day.

                                            >If you understand anything about people like him, he’s certainly searching for you.

                                            >Whether or not you’ve fully escaped his purview or not is unknown, but surely a place like this is more likely to avoid an eye like his than anywhere else, right?

                                            >Though if he does find you here…

                                            >You steal a glance at the yellow mare silently eating a pancake beside you.

                                            >...

                                            >Perhaps you shouldn’t stay here.

                                            >Fluttershy has already done so much for you, and there would be no greater disservice to her than to drag her into a situation involving a malevolent creature like him.

                                            >But he’s likely to know that you haven’t gone far at this point.

                                            >If you leave now, you heavily risk throwing your life into his hands.

                                            >...

                                            >A day or two more.

                                            >That’s within reason.

                                            >By then he should move on from this area and search further out.

                                            >In the meantime, you can attempt to pay off what debts weigh on you, though you doubt you can outdo this mare’s kindness.

                                            >Even if you can manage to repay her in that time, you know it won’t be easy for you to leave…

                                            >But then again, this is all assuming you’ll still be welcome after brunch is over.

                                            >You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that your pancake is long gone.

                                            >Thankfully, Fluttershy pulls you out of your troublesome thoughts with that soothing voice of hers.

                                            >”You know, after I get cleaned up I’ll have to go into town to do a little shopping. You’re more than welcome to join me if you want.”

                                            >The change of subject provides a satisfying out for your troublesome thoughts, but that’s hardly the reason a small smile grows on your face.

                                            >You’re just thankful her company can last a little longer, knowing the inevitable that must eventually come.

                                            “That would be nice.”

                                            >It’s not much longer before you both finish the tower of flapjacks.

                                            >Fluttershy tidies up the minimal mess you both made before heading for the stairs.

                                            >”I’ll just be a minute and then we can go.”

                                            >With a nod from you, she ascends the stairs to claim her well earned freshening up.

                                            >You just simply stay on the couch and think to yourself.

                                            >...

                                            >You’ll never be able to repay her for her kindness.

                                            >She’s done so much for you in so little time.

                                            >She’s even put off getting cleaned up in favor of making you some food.

                                            >And all you’ll eventually have to show for it is disappearing as if you had never even existed.

                                            >...

                                            >It’s not like you want to leave though.

                                            >If it were an option, you’d stay as long as it would take for you to feel you’ve done some good.

                                            >Once again, that’s assuming that you’d even be welcome for that long anyways.

                                            >You don’t bother entertaining the notion of staying forever.

                                            >But if you could…

                                            >Your gaze wanders the room.

                                            >...Here is a whole lot better than anywhere you’ve ever been in your life…

                                            >But that’s a silly notion.

                                            >Even in a world filled with flying, talking technicolor horses, you might as well still be dreaming.

                                            >It’s not long before Fluttershy reappears from upstairs, her damp mane and tail tied up into sort of loose buns to prevent them from dragging on the ground as they usually do.

                                            >”Ready to go?”

                                            >You nod.

                                            >Hopping off the couch, you make your way to the door at Fluttershy’s side, setting out for the small town in the distance.