Fluttershy stood at the door, watching the rain through the window. It came in great sheets, thrushing against her foliated cottage. She opened the door, and took a hearty breath of the humidity, wetness mixing with earthen, tickling her nose. Water from the raingutter sputtered against the walk, misting lightly against her hooves. She sighed and closed the door, savoring the smell.

She had the lights off, the cabin colored lightly in gray-scale through the windows. The normally colorful interior was shaded with light blue, the faintest of shadows tracing around the room. Walking to the kitchen, she dried her hooves on the living room carpet.

The window gave a gentle light that outlined the room, not that Fluttershy would have needed it. A sense of familiarity guided her, of everything having a proper place and always being put away properly. A wing nudged the Flanklin open and she uncovered the morning’s embers with a gentle breath. With careful mouth-work she made a pile of tinder and kindling to sit on top of him. A more forceful huff saw the glow brighten, traveling along the finer parts to make his home anew. Another breath saw him settled in, glowing a cherry smile. A wing nudged the door shut so that he wouldn’t catch a cold.

She grabbed a pot from the rack and hooked it on the spigot, flicking open the tap with a pointed pinion. The pot filled with crystal clear rainwater from the cistern as Fluttershy set about the rest of her tasks.

A jar of pasta was nudged from on high in the pantry, falling from the shelf to slide into a hooked wing, a small bag of flour following close behind, both finding new positions on the counter.

The icebox stood resolute in the corner, but a solid hoof laid it open. Gently with her mouth, Fluttershy moved the milk, cheese, and the butter to join their companions on the countertop.

She moved to the sink and shut the water off, taking a long draught of the biting water that filled the pot, before lifting it to the summering stovetop. She opened the door to her friend’s house and found him happily blazing. She gave him a few pieces of wood to keep him company, then moved her cushion close to the stove, sitting down to appreciate the growing heat.

Relaxing against the side, it was scant moments before the pinging-tinkle of the pot announced that he was more than comfortably warm and that the water was getting restless. Rising, she took the jar of pasta and opened it, filling the pot with a good portion. She shut the lid then set it to rest back in the pantry. A small saucepan slid onto the stove, and found itself filled with the butter, flour, milk and cheese, a wooden spoon lumping them together in the pan as the stove’s heat helped them become better friends.

The spoon scraped and the pot roiled, as Fluttershy set in her rhythm. Then the pan moved to the counter as the pot moved to the sink, finding itself gently tipped sideways to divulge the delicately tender pasta hidden beneath. The pan went sideways above the pot, the wooden spoon now pushing the sauce to reach out and make friends with the pasta. Most went immediately, but the spoon had to help some out. The pan settled into the sink, a modest amount of water covering it to make a later cleanup all the easier.

The spoon went into the pot, spreading, mixing, and coating. A few moments of work found the pasta and sauce thoroughly inseparable, forever in friendship. A cabinet above opened, bringing a small bowl down. The spoon-cum-ladle meted out a meal’s worth from the pot.

A wing grabbed the now filled bowl, a hoof the cushion and brought both to the window. For a moment she sat, feeling the view and appreciating the rain. The patter of raindrops against the glass was a faint tinkle, a musical melody at the edge of the senses. She gave a contented sigh, slipped her spoon into her meal then brought it to her lips. Tepid.