//------------------------------//
// Home Sweet Home 
// Story: Scootaloo Wooded 
// by ALICORN_RAINBOWDASH 
//------------------------------//

Small orange hooves tapped the ground swiftly and softly. A magenta mane followed in unison, bouncing with her beats. Scootaloo trotted quickly through the woods, looking for an open cave or hollowed out burrow, something, even anything to live in. As she went on, her mane begin to tingle, her new pet butterfly emerged from Scootaloo's entangled mane. It danced around her and flew and it fluttered, as if it was a magical dancer. Scootaloo followed it's dancing path.

"Where are you taking me?" Scootaloo asked to the orange butterfly. She realized it was pointless, butterflies can't talk, what was she thinking?

"A suitable home for us." Said a small, fairy-like voice. Scootaloo stopped dead. She looked around expecting some random pony to be standing there, but there wasn't. It was just an empty, wild, forest inhabited by only Scootaloo and wildlife. The voice spoke again.

"You should know who I am by now." Scootaloo stood there, astonished. Who, or what, was talking to her? There wasn't a talking thing in sight, all she could see was the butterfly. A new thought popped into Scootaloo's head, could communicate with butterflies? Her purple eyes were now fixed on the orange butterfly, her mind pondering the question. It was technically impossible, no pony could talk with animals.

"Have you even bothered to look at your flank?" The voice came again, more irritable this time. Scootaloo turned her head to her hindquarters, and there was an imprint. A butterfly, which looked almost exactly like her pet one, was stationary on her flank with a small flower on each side of it. 

"What is this thing? And who are you?" Scootaloo yelled desperately into the forest, as if a pony would pop out and tell her. The butterfly landed on the filly's nose. The voice came again, soft and soothing now.

"It me, the butterfly, I'm talking to you," Scootaloo's eyes almost bugged out of her head when she hear that. She about screamed, disrupting the forest's quiet, but waited for the butterfly to finish, "And it's called a cutie mark. It spawns onto your flank when you discover your special talent." 

Talking to butterflies? Special talent? Is this even real life? Am I dreaming? More and more questions burnt on Scoot's tounge, but she didn't ask them.

"So talking to butterflies is my special talent? Is that why the butterflies saved me?" Scootaloo decided to ask the more logical questions.

"Yes, it is. Talking to animals, butterflies none the less, is a rare talent. Only few know it. And also, yes that is indeed why my pack saved you." Scootaloo sat hard. The only thing she could think to say is,


"Wow."