[center]The mare walks carefully. Not quite cautiously; there is no fear in her step. Just learned deliberateness, each movement chosen with care. Ponies gush about the peace of the country. But the rustle of leaves, the chirp and hum of insects, the rushing of the brook—the ground is loud. Not like the city she calls home now. Up in the air, you only hear the wind around your ears, the air inside your lungs, the beating of your heart. She doesn't mind the ground. But she always feels a little less free. Birdsong, tinged with something familiar. Picking up the pace, she rounds the corner— Fluttershy looks up. Smiles, soft and sad and merciless.[/center] [right]“It’s good to see you, Rainbow.”[/right] [hr] [center]A golden fin breaks the water, and her reflection ripples. The breeze swirls around her, fending off the summer sun, as her wings flap steadily. Her friends take flight in their underwater sky and she is content. The sky doesn't often bring her relief. It is too open, unbound and untameable. Nature, for all its wildness, is grounded, and she can carve out her own little fiefdom at her leisure. In the air she can feel herself losing grip, as if she might float off into the blue, never to return. Better to be queen of the riverside, a big fish in a small pond. No room for guppies in the ocean. There is a rustling from the riverbank. She looks up. Smiles, soft and sad and pitiless.[/center] [hr] [center]The cottage hasn’t changed. She’s not sure why she thinks it might have. The same chipped mugs, ugly mismatched floral patterns abounding. Hers still had the crack running through it from when she had dropped it, nearly ten years ago. The same stained teapot, the same slightly crooked photo above the same sagging couch. The same cozy atmosphere, maintained without fail for decades now. Rainbow sort of hates it. And, watching her oldest friend fuss over the kettle, she hates herself for hating it.[/center] [hr] [center]The gentle trickle of tea reminds her of the brook outside, and soothes something in her breast that she doesn’t want to name. This place is her fortress. It is hers to the foundations, to the roots that thread it and bind it to the earth below. The outside world is wide and harsh, but here she has faced gods and walked away unchanged, unafraid. She can do the same with Rainbow.[/center] “I put your things in a box. It’s on the landing, upstairs.” [right]“You didn’t have to.”[/right] “It was the least I could do.” [right]“No, Flutters, I mean you didn’t have t-”[/right] [center]She lowers the tea she was cradling, settling it. Grounding her.[/center] “I think I did. We gave it our best shot, Rainbow. It’s been a long time.” [center]Rainbow’s face has quieted with time, but her eyes burn with the conviction of their younger years. Fluttershy's heart aches at it.[/center] [right]“I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”[/right] “You won’t. We’ll see each other next month, at Pinkie’s. Her youngest just graduated.” [right]“That’s not what I meant! We can make this work, Fluttershy. I’ve stopped smoking. I’ll commute more often, work less hours.”[/right] “It might work for a while. But you’d hate it, Rainbow. The academy is your life.” [right]“[i]You’re[/i] my life.”[/right] “Not anymore.” [center]A pause, then gently:[/center] “We’re allowed to grow apart, love.” [center]Rainbow sags back, blinking tiredly. The conviction in her eyes is replaced with dull acceptance, resentment. That too is familiar. There is a pause.[/center] [right] “Pinkie’s youngest. That the pegasus? Floppy ear?”[/right] “That’s the one.” [right]“Think she’ll bring that boy of hers? Pinkie’s been wanting to meet him for years.”[/right] [center]She laughs, sipping her tea.[/center] “Perhaps.” [center]Smiles, sad and sweet and weightless.[/center] [hr] [center]The mare walks carefully, balancing her box under one wing. Her steps are heavy now. She stops, stares into the river. The fish flit about. Rainbow has never loved animals the way Fluttershy does, and she has come to love them less. Her face is tired. She looks old, feels it too. It’s a novel experience, and she doesn’t like it. Rainbow sets down the box, then reaches back and rummages through her saddle bags. A few moments produce a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a cheap lighter. She sets one between her teeth and takes a long, bitter drag, gazing over the river at sights she has seen a thousand times. The smoke floats up into the open sky. Eventually, she turns away.[/center]