It was a peaceful spring afternoon. The breeze blew gently against the grass and leaves, and birds sang harmoniously within the trees. Their singing and chattering was a simple yet soothing addition to the relaxed atmosphere.
 
The teeny feet of a furry chick patted against the ground as it inspected the garden. It hopped into one of the bushes and rustled around.
 
Fluttershy giggled softly as she watched, then beckoned it over with a whistle. The chick leapt through the flowers and leaves, flapping it’s dinky fluffy wings about, before gleefully jogging over to the pale yellow mare.
 
It cheeped curiously at the small cub, who was attempting to hide herself between the arms of her mother. Bedlam stared wide-eyed at the young bird, shivering in fear. Although it was smaller than her, and seemed as harmless as a cloud, it’s unusual delight and friendliness towards her was overwhelming.
 
She squeaked and placed her paws over her eyes, cuddling up against her mother. Fluttershy spoke tenderly, “it’s okay, Betty, she won’t hurt you. She’s just come to say hello is all. I promise she’s safe.”
 
The reassurance allowed Bedlam to ease up a bit, but only by a little amount. Even though she still wasn’t sure about how much she could trust the chick, it didn’t look like it would be able to cause much damage. It was merely a baby chicken, in the event that it did want to hurt her, Bedlam would easily be able to squash it. She hesitantly lowered her paws, again facing the bird.
 
Fluttershy clicked her tongue twice, to which the chick responded by cheeping again and sitting down between Bedlam’s paws. Bedlam flinched but quickly realised that she wasn’t at the risk of being pecked.
 
“See? I told you she wouldn’t hurt you. She’s friendly” Flutters whispered, smiling.
 
Bedlam sniffed the chick, then reluctantly prodded it with one of her paws. She waited a minute and, surprisingly to her, it didn’t bite or explode. She began to stroke it gently, her blunt claws brushing it’s extremely soft feathers.
 
It peeped. Bedlam drew back her paw in fear that she had hurt it, but all it did was nestle contently against her fur. A meek grin slowly appeared on her face. She turned her head to face her mother, saying in her young squeaky voice, “mama she cuddle me.”
 
“So she is,” her mother chuckled, “do you think you may want to be friends with her?”
 
Bedlam nodded, looking back down at the chick, “chickie my friend.”