On the First Spring Breeze (Shylette)

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It was a day like any other day ... a lot of the stories Bon Bon read to her started that way, so when Sweetie Drops looked outside to a bright, crisp Ponyville morning, same as almost any other in the first month of Spring, her curly tail give a little wiggle and her lips curved upwards. She hopped off the cushion beside the window sill, the curtains lazily pulled towards her in her wake, as if telling her to wait to ask for her sister's permission first. But when Bon Bon was at work, Sweetie knew who to ask about this, and she rushed to where he would be, her small hooves making little pops on the floorboards as she scampered across the living room, then muted bumps as she climbed up the carpeted stairs. Without stumbling on a step taking a moment for a breath, she ran into her room and leaped up on top of her bed from the side, sunlight casting soft blues and pinks through the curtains, and came face to face with the friend that could help her decide what to do. He was leaned up against her pillows, his floppy ears folded almost over the front of her face, almost covering his black, plastic knob eyes. Mister Harestyle was always patient, waiting for her to talk first.

Sweetie Drops looked up, left, and right. From the windmill that marked the very northern edge of Ponyville all the way to the first thicket of the outskirts of the Everfree Forest, a wall of sunflowers stood high above her. The breeze that had gone quiet on the walking path from the town swelled at that moment she stood, gliding over everything. The windmill gave a groan as started to turn, and the grass from the hills beyond all the way to her hooves and back towards Ponyville shivered and swayed. The curls of her mane, only half the size of bits, gave a moment's dance and her coat flattened and shifted, a few hairs of her filly's winter coat catching a ride on the breeze to parts unknown. In her wide view, however, her eyes focused on the petals of the sunflowers quivering, the tall heads of the flowers dancing. Sweetie Drops grinned and walked in curls of circles on the grass, then reared up, trying to wiggle her forehooves like the sunflower petals, and then she stood back on all fours and watched. The sunflowers continued their dance, faces pointed towards the sun. She turned her head to the head of Mister Harestyle looking forward from out of her small saddlebag. "It's a nice forest! Nothing bad's in here! Can we go in? Can we?!" The breeze flopped one of Mister Harestyle's ears, and Sweetie Drops nodded and grinned extra widely.

At first, when she felt the green leaves of the sunflowers brushing against her, she give a squeaky yelp. "No tickles!" She laughed and raised a hoof in a pose of parental lecturing. Still, a forest that likes to dance and tickle was still a fun, friendly forest! Then it was obviously fine for her to explore, so with her eyes to the stalks of the flowers ahead, she carefully went forward, her hooves wiggling down carefully into the grass. Above her, the petals glowed crayon yellow, the air was filled with a scent dusty, but also sweet and cool. She couldn't help speeding up, her smiling never leaving, but then her hoof caught a rock and she stumbled, then fell into a few of the flowers. They cushioned her chin, so when she rose, she immediately apologized! "I'm s-sorry! I didn't mean it! I'll help! I'll help so you'll get sun!" Carefully, she tried to bed the tall flowers back upright. In the end, they were a little crooked, but their petals still caught the sun. She quietly tip-hooved away, her vanilla face with just a tint of green from the plants, her smile sheepish and her ears low. "I should be careful. Tooey says you can hurt things, and I don't want to do that, so I'll be extra, extra careful." If she was going to find the treasure in this forest, she wouldn't get it if the forest was mad at her.

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Winter was over. Gone were the icy cold flakes, in piles upon the ground or in the air, falling on head and body like wet linen that needed to go out on a line for drying. Gone were the freezing northern blasts that seemed to go right through the body, when they didn't pick you up and carry you off entirely. Gone were the sleeping caps of ice upon lake and stream, pond and puddle, keeping them still and silent. Gone were the pewter and slate skies, pastel and grey and, truth be told, rather dreary. Now the world was vivid and bright, the sky sea-blue with fluffy white clouds, leaves of trees and blades of grass a gleaming golden-green. Here and there, flowers burst from the grass into the light, splashes of white, yellow, pink, and violet littering the ground like jewels from a careless dragon. And into this world, painted anew in the old cycle from time immemorial, one tiny creature was venturing. Shylette flittered from flower to flower, slightly drunk from the sweet nectar, more than half intoxicated with the warmth of the sun, the damp cool deliciousness of the earth, and the bright colors. It seemed nothing could be dangerous on a day like today. Pausing to rest on a trembling branch of lilac, the tiny fairy pony inhaled deeply and stretched her glittering wings from root to tip. Tiny crumbs of pollen from the flowers she'd already visited gleamed in her coat like motes of gold, but she paid them no mind. It was her job to travel from flower to flower, drinking as much as she could hold, and she took it very seriously. Well, sort of seriously. A little seriously. Seriously, who could be serious when the entire world seemed to be humming for joy?! Leaping off her perch into the next breeze and letting it carry her on, Shylette extended every delicate limb and soared. The ground beneath her flashed from green to a rich gold, as she sailed across a sea of sunflowers, their huge faces, each with a tiny depression in it's eye just begging her to land and resume her feasting. Yet the breezie was already stuffed, tiny tummy ever-so-slightly distended, and she longed for a quiet, safe, protected place where she might soak up the sun and rest for a while first. She found it, in the form of a large grey stone in the heart of the field, a stone not so tall, but broad and smooth. She landed upon this table-stone, more like a warm grey clearing to her, and looked around at the forest of sunflowers around her. It would be safe here. The tall flowering plants turned the strongest gust into a tiny sigh. The sweet scent of the plants would hide any trace of her own. Any predator that might approach would make enough noise, crashing through as it must do, to wake her. The stone gave back the warmth it had claimed from the sun, and sandwiched between the warmth from above and the warmth from below, Shylette stretched out like a starfish, wings and limbs splayed in every direction, as though to absorb every iota of warmth she could get. She heaved a deep, silent sigh of satisfaction. Her head drooped, her eyes closed, her antennae relaxed. She slept.

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As the minutes went on, Sweetie Drops slowed down a little, green gathering at her sides and her hooves up to her fetlocks. Looking ahead, all she could see was more of the forest of Sunflower stalks. A lump of concern climbed into her chest. Just how far was it to the treasure? Should she have tried to climb a tree to see where to go? The last time she climbed a tree, though, she couldn't get down, and after she cried out for a while, a Pegasus came and helped her down, but she was really far away. If she went back and climbed a tree, she could be stuck there forever, no matter how much she yelled!

As she sat and thought, her ears perked to sounds of little birds playing in the air, chirping and singing. The a swell of the wind rode on the flowers with the sigh of somepony lounging in the sun. Catching her breath, the filly stood up and took a long, cool breath. Everything was going to be okay! She knew from books that bad things only happened if it was dark and the birds were gone! The treasure could only be just a little farther. It wouldn't be a nice treasure if just any filly adventurer could find it, after all! Just as she nearly started again through the stalks, she spotted a little orange spot on a leaf, that ... that moved?!She looked closer, and just a little closer, then ... she gasped!

It was a ladybug waddling on the leaf, six black spots on her back! She used to be scared of them, but everypony told her that ladybugs, because they were ladies, would always be nice if you were nice to them, but she'd never had one of her own because Winter came! Humming, she placed her hoof in front of the ladybug, and it began to climb it, completely undisturbed by her. "Do you want to help me find the treasure?" It crossed her hoof and waddled back onto the leaf, stopping to nibble at it. "Oh ... y-you're hungry! O-Ohkay! Th-Thank you anyways, miss ladybug!" Careful not to run into the stalk of that sunflower, she wiggled through and continued, listening to the birds and trying to do that whistling thing she had seen other ponies do, not quite getting out any notes.

Just when her lips were getting a little dry and a little tired, and the thought to turn around was just about to poke back up, she blinked as her eyes caught the slightest glitter. She turned her head to the right, breath held, and saw just a sliver of whiter light. Aha! It must've been the treasure! Taking a big breath, she leaped into a run. "We're going to find treasure, Mister Harestyle! W-We're ... oop!" She gave a hop into the light and her legs wobbled to feel just a ground of clean, simple grass instead of a confusion of sunflower stalks, enough that she sat down, just a bit disoriented. Whatever it was that caught her eye was on a smooth grey stone. With her eyes wide, she looked and stared.

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A warm, floral-scented sea, with great mountains of bubbles, like icebergs. The sheer white cliff that soared smoothly out of the water in a perfect oval, cupping the ocean in its palm. Shylette floated serenely upon the water, wings extended and relaxed. There were no fish in this sea to distress her. There were no monsters in the deep to molest her. The only other occupant in this ocean was a large yellow duckling, who bobbed and nodded to her in a most friendly way as he drifted about on his own business. And then, Disaster! Shylette heard it first, a deep rumbling gurgle in the water, but she didn't understand what it meant. She felt herself pulled towards one end of the ocean and she began to understand that somehow, this body of water was being pulled away, pouring away into some deep underground hole...! And then she began to spin round and round, a dizzying dance with the duckling who, it seemed, had also been unwillingly dragged into this emergency! The pull downwards became stronger, and Shylette struggled to lift herself into flight with her wet wings, but to no avail. Faster and faster they spun, until at last...! "We're going to find treasure, Mister Harestyle! W-We're ... oop!" A youthful, childish voice exclaimed. Shylette snapped out of her sleep in a second, leaping to her feet and flaring her shimmering wings, ready to fly away in a moment if she was in danger! But... was she? The tiny faerie gazed, wide-eyed, at the child who stared with equally wide eyes back at her. Wider even, if you were going by overall size! They were nice eyes though, Shylette thought, the color of the lilac she'd perched upon only that morning. Gentle seeming, too. And the child, for she could see it was a child, even at nearly fifty times her own size, had no bug net, nor rolled up newspaper. She had no glass jar with her, not even a swatter. She was seated, too, and that was not predatory behavior. Shylette gazed back in wonder, poised ready for flight, and waited to see what the foal would do.

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At first, she thought that she had stumbled upon a monstrous, overgrown, deadly dragonfly, just seeing so much wing in front of her, and one of her hind hooves slid backwards, as if to help her turn around and run, but as she blinked, breath held, the actual creature in front of her started to come into focus. Her wings weren't like a dragonfly's at all! They were wide, put round and pretty, like butterfly wings made from the thinnest clear candy, the sunlight filtering through them as gently as if they were sculpted in the thinnest ice, and they were attached to ... a pony?!

Sweetie gave a little gasp, a smile starting to form. It was a tiny baby pony! But she had never, ever seen another foal like this. Apart from being super small and having her wings, she also had feelers on her head, but also a long purple and pink mane that curled just like her feelers ... but now, Sweetie was grinning, but her grin ... slowed when she saw the other pony's face. She must've been scared. She looked around and didn't see any grownups. "O-Oh ... umm ... um ... are you a baby pony? I'm an ad-vent-truer and ... and I can help you find your grownup ... you're very pretty ... are you a Butterfly Princess?"

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Shylette, watching the Filly's expression turn from fear to wonder to joy, could not but help but begin smiling back, a tiny bud of a smile at first, then bright, cheerful bloom of one. The tiny faerie pony did not realize that it was the sight of herself that had caused the joy, she only responded to the open-hearted warmth of the child, and her own subsiding fear. This being was not a threat to her, at least, not by intent. Of that she felt sure! "O-Oh ... umm ... um ... are you a baby pony? I'm an ad-vent-truer and ... and I can help you find your grownup ... you're very pretty ... are you a Butterfly Princess?" Tiny frame relaxing from her tense posture, the Breezie contemplated her long (to her) legs and gently rubbed an antennae thoughtfully. She was no baby by Breezie standards, though in a world where all creatures grew up, it was understandable why a small child would think something even smaller than herself was an infant. As to being a butterfly princess... A gust of wind, softened into the gentlest breeze by the sunflower stalks around them, was still enough to take her glimmering thistledown mane, in all its purple glories, and draw it out behind her like a royal cloak. She stretched her wings to their utmost, posing them to best advantage in the sunlight. Her pure blue eyes, so tiny and yet, so expressive, gazed in gentle affection. Okay, she was showing off a little for the filly. She was not really a princess. Yet it pleased her to be thought as one. Shylette looked around for a small token, some sort of gesture of kindness she could offer the foal to show her goodwill. A pebble, or a small flower... but there was nothing handy to hoof. So instead, lifting into the air with a sweep of her wings, the Breezie fluttered over and attempted to give the filly the lightest, tiniest kiss on the forehead she might ever receive!

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Sweetie Drops didn't blink or breathe, only watched with her eyes wide as the Butterfly Princess rose into the air, the sun dancing in her wings as though they were made of bubbles as they flapped soundlessly. What was about to happen? Was the little Butterfly Princess going to do some sort of magic? Maybe Sweetie Drops would get to be a Butterfly Filly and get to fly with the Princess for the day! Maybe ... and then she felt the softest, tiniest kiss on her forehead. Distantly, she felt a lightness in her saddlebag that she knew she shouldn't, but for the moment, the most amazing thing was happening!

She found the treasure! She felt like she could sprout wings so much that for just an instant, thought they were truly there, a pair of pretty wings that could hold the sun and ride the wind! She'd introduce the Butterfly Princess pony to Tooie, and maybe be they could all fly together! When Sweetie looked to her sides, the fact that she did, in fact, not have wings didn't dampen her spirits. Her smile was wide and bright, her forehooves padded the earth, and her tail whipped back in forth sending tufts of dust into the bordering field of flowers. A giggle squeaked out from her so playful it sounded like a hiccup, and then she looked up to the Princess.

"Thank you, thank you, y-your ... your Royal Highness! M-My ... I ... my name is Sweetie Drops! Can I ... can we be friends? Can we g-go flying! I would be a good Butterfly pony! I-I ... um ... thank you, Miss Princess Butterfly! Oh! Um ... is that your name?"

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The faerie pony bestowed her warmest, sunniest smile upon the filly known as Sweetie Drops, Which, She thought to herself, must be the most appropriate name ever given to a foal. Sweetie's obvious admiration and her delight in applying a royal title to the 'butterfly pony' pleased Shylette to no end and brought forth a river of vanity. Of course she was a princess, or at least as good as. Shylette gave a happy little tumble in the air at the realization. What an uncommonly wise and insightful little filly! And this being the case, it was only natural that they should be friends, wasn't it? This child was wise and good and harmless, and undeniably, well, Sweet! She would not do anything to harm the tiny pony, not even by accident. However, this issue of sharing her name presented a problem. Shylette had not communicated with another creature for a distressingly long period of time. She would not speak, yet, without doing so, how could she convey her name? Hovering for a moment in thoughtful contemplation, she swirled suddenly in the air and dived behind the gray stone, emerging a second later with a flower in her arms. It was a tiny flower, with a simple shape of five distinctive purple petals on a slender green stem. It was, unquestionably, a violet. For a moment, the breezie held it up against some of the darker purple of her mane, so Sweetie Drops could see how they matched, exactly. In fact, all the different colors of her mane and fur conformed to colors that could be found in violets. Perhaps I am the princess of violets. She thought, with some of her new emerging vanity. It didn't seem so unlikely at this moment! Holding the flower in her hind feet, as she hovered before Sweetie Drops again, she dramatically touched both fore hooves to her cheeks and looked away, as if modest or feeling very shy. She glanced back questioningly, to make sure that Sweetie Drops was watching and understood that this was a gesture, acting. Not real feeling. She repeated it a few times. She then tapped her own chest and made the gesture before pointing to the flower with a free hoof. Me...Shy...Violet. Me...Shy...Violet. Me...Shy...Violet. Understand...? The breezie determined to be content if the dear Filly only understood enough to call her Violet. If she managed to call her 'Shy Violet,' that would be even better. 'Shylette' as a single word was probably beyond the realm of communicating!

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Sweetie Drops watched the Butteryfly Pony, and for a moment, just blinked. There was something of play to it. She's shy. It was one of the first and most reliable things she had ever heard about herself. When one of mom's friends or business partners came over -- apparently grownups would agree to do things if you made dinner for them -- or when she'd be walking with her mother in one of Manehattan's malls, strangers would lower and put their face near her. Ohh ~ Who's this cutey? She made the same gesture as the Butterfly Princess at that point. Oh, don't worry! She's just shy! Shy.

The Earth Pony filly put a hoof to her chin. Shy ... but that couldn't be her name! Would a Queen of Butterfly Ponies really just name their pretty Princess 'Shy,' and that was it? No way! Oh, but the flower! It was purple! And it was purple like the Princess' mane ... Violet! Bon Bon had picked some for their flower garden! So she was 'shy' ... but also 'violet' ... Shy Violet! Sweetie gasped into a wide smile. She solved the mystery of the Butterfly Princess Pony's name! "Y-You ... your name is Shy Violet, right?" She grinned at the tiny pony. She was so small, that she probably couldn't talk!

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When Sweetie Drops guessed correctly, and on the first try, too, Shylette flung up her forelegs in an expression of exuberant joy and swooped into a couple backward loops! But soon she was hovering a couple inches above the filly's nose, nodding her agreement with a warm and friendly smile. Shy Violet. Exactly so! They communicated! Shylette would not talk, but this wise and dear little filly could understand her anyway! She wanted to do something, to demonstrate her affection for this gentle little one. She looked down at the violet still clasped in her hoof and smiled. gliding forward just a bit, she carefully tucked the little flower behind the filly's ear, even twining the stem gently into the curls, just enough so that it would stay secure. Happiness so moved the tiny faerie pony that even that gesture wasn't enough, and she began to dance, swirling and twirling in the still air, her mane and tail flying out behind her yet somehow, never tangling in her delicate, shimmering wings. Finally, a little breathless, she came face to face with Sweetie drops and landed, gently, weightlessly, on her nose. She didn't know what came next, but whatever it was to be, it would surely be pleasant, if this little one were involved!

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If it was possible for Sweetie Drops to smile more, she must have been to see Princess Shy Violet tumble and loop in the air, happy with her and nodding! For the silence of the Princess, it struck the filly in a strange way, and for some reason, she could feel tears gather in her eyes, but only for a brief moment. Some of the memory of that day would be held for what she would realize in just a moment more, but years later when she learned the words to describe the feeling, it had been as if the day took place in a dream, the sound of Shy Violet's smile a flowing Spring breeze. The moment did not turn quite yet.

Shy Violet flapped forwards, and over seconds, Sweetie felt a lock of her mind winding around a soft stem, and she dared not move! Her ear couldn't help but wiggle a little, but the tiny little hooves didn't seem to mind. When the Fairy Pony re-entered her view, Sweetie could just see a blur of the flower's violet, and in front of her, Shy started to fly and dance and flutter, her beautiful mane and tail a blur mixed with shimmering, shimmering that only increased when the tears welled up again even though the filly's smile was as long-lived as the day. And then, with little voiceless breaths, Shy landed on her nose with no more pressure than her kiss. With all the feeling being so wonderful and different and beyond her words, her mind went to an act she knew was right.

"I ..." She blinked and sniffled, her voice quieter for the Princess. "I ... I r-really want you to meet ... he's my best friend and he'd like you a lot. He ..." Sweetie Drops reached into her bag, not looking so not to point her nose down and possibly make Shy fall, but she didn't need to really. Mister Harestyle was always in ... Sweetie Drops' smile fell instantly. She only felt the bottom of her bag. "M-Mister Harestyle?"

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Such a sweet, sweet joy, this feeling of companionship. Shylette had not known just how truly lonely she had been! And who would have thought that her first friend since she’d lost her home would have been an earth pony foal? The world was full of mystery. And it seemed as though another mystery was about to unfold, for Sweetie drops wished to introduce her to a friend of hers, the child’s best friend. Well! If such a wise child spoke well of him, then this ‘Mr. Harestyle’ must be worth knowing, indeed. The faerie pony had already made up her mind to be delighted and charmed. But, like the sun’s warm face being obscured by thunder clouds, trouble rolled in. "Mr. Harestyle?” The filly’s face filled with anxiety and her tone with sudden fear. As she reached for someone in her pack...and didn’t feel him. Shylette instinctively lifted into flight, sensing that Sweetie Drops needed the freedom to turn her head and see. The Breezie, too, fluttered near the empty saddle bags and looked worriedly from it to Sweetie Drops. There was no one there. Shylette turned slowly, full circle, searching. She had, of course, never met Mr. Harestyle, and couldn’t be sure she would recognize him if she even saw him… but she still had to look. She hoped nothing awful had happened to him, such as a hawk, or a stray cat or a fox. Creatures she herself had to worry about, sometimes. The Spring breeze gusted over the sunflowers again, and this time it seemed more cold, a higher mix of winter in this one. And the sun… suddenly didn’t feel as warm as it had only minutes before. Shylette turned anxious, uncertain eyes back to Sweetie Drops. What should we do? she seemed to be asking.

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Drops looked back to Violet, blushing from embarrassment, quiet for as she caught a breath, blinking back tears. "M-Mister Harestyle ... h-he ... he's my friend. He was ... He was in my bag ... he w-was in there when I came in!" The breeze offered no comfort, going a bit cold into her coat, the sun shaded by straggling clouds. "He's a white hare, a-and ... and ... and he's very smart! He's got the m-most proper tie!" That was how he told her about it; all gentlehares wore ties. "I'm sorry, but ... p-please, Your Highness, can you help me find him?!" The filly looked out around them, and it occurred to her that she wasn't sure from what direction in the clearing she had come, and then she looked back to the Breezie, the concern on her small face no-doubt mirroring hers.

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Seeing tears threatening in Sweetie Drops' soft lilac eyes, Shylette gave a reassuring nod and touched one hoof to the filly's burning cheek, gently. With another hoof, she gathered up some of her very own soft, silky mane and dabbed at the shivering saltwater in the corner of the little filly's eyes. There, there! She looked into those eyes with another affectionate smile and patted the cheek again. Of course she would help! So! Mr. Harestyle was a white hare. With a most proper tie. Which, Shylette supposed, as she drifted upwards for all the advantage height could give her, she ought to have guessed from his name. Not the tie, so much, maybe. But that he was a hare. And, being white, he oughtn't to be too hard to find. She swirled slowly, looking for any out of place, white-ish object. AHA! was that him? She swooped down for a closer look! ...No, that was a small white stone. Oh, wait! What about that white object caught on a sunflower there? She glided over to see... but it turned out to be a plastic bag. This might be harder than she thought. Shylette floated slowly around the edge of the clearing, searching for white, rabbit shaped objects. She simply must help Sweetie Drops find Mr. Harestyle. It was her Royal Duty!

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Again, the tiny, cute Princess had left a touch. It was so tiny a contact that the warmth of the gesture was small as well, but there was no equal for the softness. A painful gap felt like it had taken form in her stomach, and the dizzy sharpness of fear-wrought adrenaline started ... but all that slowed to a halt by the time Shy Violet had touched her again after a smile that could brighten daisies. Her ears were still low and her breath was on the verge of sniffles, but she managed to nod and give the gentle fairy pony a happier face before she took to the air above the clearing.

Above, the search for Mister Harestyle was not quite going very well. The chill in the wind flowed over and around Shylette like a freezing sheet of silk that could go taut and trap her at any moment, just there was a spot of warmth at last, just a beam of sun, a thread of the air warming. The sunflowers ... an even field, much like grass. Somewhat in the distance, not far from the end of the field, there was a dark spot where a few of the flowers were dented outwards, but the spot was under the remaining shadow of the cloud rolling past above.