The path to the cottage is quiet — just birdsong and the creak of the little wooden gate. Through the window, a soft light glows amber. Something warm drifts out. Chamomile, maybe. The same kind as that stormy afternoon, honey drizzle and everything sweet. The moss grew all along the stone pathway to her door. Birds whizzed by, chirping happily, some resting on feeders and bird baths in the front yard. It was a perfect afternoon.

Fluttershy was in her kitchen, preparing tea, expecting Discord to come sometime around this afternoon—it was always unpredictable, but it never really startled her much anymore due to how often they had tea parties. She hummed softly under her breath, pouring the steaming hot tea into the teacup.