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// Chapter 6: In Which a Crusade is Called, a Contest is Held, Swallows and Statues are Discussed 
// Story: The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Scootadad! 
// by Adorned ungulate 
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Returning from a dog walk I found my daughter's scooter in the front yard with Sweetie Belle and a cream-yellow filly chatting with each other in the attached wagon. I was pulled along so the excited dogs could greet them. 

"Hello Mr. Swallowtail!" Sweetie piped. 

"Howdy." Replied her companion, looking at me her big tangerine eyes. 

"Afternoon, Sweetie. And you are?"

"Ahm Apple Bloom."

"We met at the cute-cênera." Explained Sweetie Belle. 

"Oh yeah. I remember you. You were at the cart with your brother when I bought those Jonagolds last week."

"How'd you like them?"

"Made my lunches that much sweeter, thank you."

Scootaloo rushed out of the apartment still wearing her helmet. A few crayons fell out of her saddlebags which I helped retrieve. "Hey dad. You meet Apple Bloom yet?" She cast a glance at her companions. "Can I tell him?" They considered it a moment before nodding. "We're gonna start a secret club so we can find our cutie marks! Can I go over to the boutique so we can work on a crest?"

"Sure. Will you be back for dinner?"

"Thanks, dad!" She gave me a foreshortened hug and tossed her bags to her companions and alight on her chariot in one fluid motion. With a push off and buzzing of wings they were off. 

I tilted my head and watched them disappear. It was always nice when Scootaloo started school. I noticed a change in her behavior and use of language after only a few weeks due her socializing with her peers all day. I was glad she was finding new friends but something about that interaction disturbed me for some reason. I was expecting the routine evening at home playing games and reading stories. I guess this means I can get ahead of the chores. I went inside and found Vervain napping on the couch so I made sure the dogs did not jump up and lick her face. Sometimes she naps there on the weekend and insists Scootaloo and I play quietly in the living room as her rather twisted idea of "family time". I let her be.  

Our shared bedroom was left a bit of a shambles after a frantic search for art supplies so I busied myself tidying up. 





A few days later I trotted into our room and found my daughter going through my music collection. "Can I help you find something, dear?"

"There's a talent show at school and we're performing a rock ballad! I'm looking for some tunes... All of your music is weird." She studied the cubist artwork on an album cover. "'Hyaena', what kind of band name is that?"

"That's the album name my little cultural illiterate." I took it from her and ruffled her shaggy fuchsia mane. "You know daddy likes sad, sad songs. Here, these three would suit your needs."

She beamed. "Thanks, dad. This'll get us cutie marks for sure!" And she collected up her things and once more made haste to her beloved scooter. I watched her receding form through the window. There were still chores to get through or creative and recreational projects waiting but instead I slid the record I was holding out of it's sleeve and put it on the turntable. I sat there for a long time watching the needle trying not to think of anything in particular. 




Soon enough it was the night of the talent show. I sat back on my haunches and watched the Cutie Mark Crusaders preform with a proud smile. They had obviously put a lot of effort into the production even if the execution was a tad excessive and shrill. I heard a giggle and glanced over at Vervain. Scanning the crowd I was annoyed to see all the shocked expressions. This was a school-age production for Celestia's sake! Would they rather have those dullard magicians or the two saccharine sweet rollerskating poets  for an encore? At least this was original and daring. No one else had smoke and lighting effects. Look there! It even ended with needless destruction like any rock show worth it's salt lick! I cheered as loud as I could and hoped Scootaloo could hear over the laughter. 

She rode home on my back as to have her hooves free to wipe away her admirably excessive layer of eyeshadow. "Dad, did you really like it?"

"Loved it. You can rock out in the bedroom anytime. I'll play you some post-punk later and we can find something in your range."

"Did you think it was funny?"

"No but art is a subjective thing. You got an award! I'm very proud."

"But no cutie mark."

"Still plenty of time for that. Want me to see if we have the budget to rent a guitar?" She was quiet for a time. Every father hopes their children indulge in more joy than regret. 

I hung the jester cap medallion on her cork board under the newspaper clippings, Marvelous Elements of Harmony promotional stills of Rainbow Dash, and her silly rainbow mullet wig. "There we go. Soon enough I'll be hanging your framed acceptance letter to Wonderbolts Academy right over here."

"Daad."




It was well after Ten before I could find the time to fly to the Sweet Apple Acres barn for the opposite side of the Cutie Mark Crusader metaphorical coin, the real secret society. The interior was dark save for a single bulb illuminating a table and circle of straw. I gave a tired greeting to Applejack and Rarity. 

"Howdy there, Martin. Have a chilled cider to slake yer thirst."

"Thanks, let me get you some bits..."

"Won't hear of it." The young mare proudly closed her eyes and tossed her head up giving her ponytail a rustle. I wonder if she realized how rustically beautiful she was. 

"Evening, dear. Enjoy the show?"

"Immensely. A.J. I don't know why you were so concerned."

"Let's get to it so as we can get some shut eye. Rather not have a long musical appreciation discussion right now. Rare, how did the charm offensive go?"

The white unicorn fluttered her eyes and primped one of her voluptuous curls. "Sous declined to press charges in the Cutie Mark Crusaders Pasta Chefs incident after I gave him some tips to get the marinara stains out if the aprons. Most agreeable, considering."

"Good. Big Macintosh cleaned up the mess from the CMC Chemists incident, though some of the floor tiles had to be salvaged. I helped Roseluck repair her pipes and promised to replenish her seed crop to make up for the florist adventure. What about you, Martin?"

I fished a pouch out of my saddlebags. "I scraped up twenty bits to go towards the shop window."

"Should about do it, sugarcube. Thanks much. That bout wraps it up thanks to the talent show distraction."

I tapped my hooves on the table nervously. "Do you think we should be concerned at all?"

"Bout what, our girls? Didn't you get into any trouble as a colt? It's just that together they tend to multiply damage they cause rather than the sum of the three."

I gave the farmer a probably unconvincing smile. "Same night in two weeks then. Keep an eye on that clubhouse, Miss Apple. Rarity, would you like an escort home?"

"I doubt the darkness surrounding town hides many highwayponies but I would appreciate the company, thanks. Sleep well Applejack."

"Aren't any cover hogs here at home so I'm sure to." She shot Rarity a smug look that thoroughly confused me. "You too, Rare." 

I drained my cider and joined my fashionable companion in the cool night breeze as Applejack clicked off the light and retreated towards home. We walked in silence for a time before my companion spoke up. "I think I know what is really bothering you about the Crusade, Martin."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"It is not totally about her safety or the damage they incur. From what little I know of her history you have been the one calm port in the storm in your daughters' life. Maybe you have protectively tried to keep her close to harbor. Now that she has a proper circle of friends and is spending more time with them it's like she has opened up trade with a new port and you feel replaced, or unsure of your status and what to do with yourself."

I considered this. "It is certainly a big change. I got so used to our routine. When you have a foal you commit yourself to dedicating your life to this fragile being. I don't think it's me being overprotective... At least I hope not. Scootaloo... She's been a big part of my life."

"And you likewise for her life."

"Change is jarring, I guess. She moves so fast. What if I slip away from her?"

Rarity stopped and looked up at the night sky. I studied her features and waited for her to speak. In the darkness the subtle gradient was washed out of her mane, painting it indigo and her finely groomed coat shone white-silver like the moon. 

"Martin, stallions like yourself are like the North Star. Reliable, turning only slightly. Certainly sometimes lost in the cloud cover of depression or anger but sailors and fliers know it will always be there to chart a course by. Certain mares are more like the moon or the wandering stars. Passing swiftly, waxing and waning, sometimes seeming to go backward for a time. Maybe Twilight could explain the scientific side of the metaphor better but believe me no matter how many constellations through which she passes Scootaloo will predictably come back around to you." She continued our slow walk. I hastened to her side again. "Scootaloo may for a period even find you embarrassing to be seen with in public. She may try everything she can to be as unlike you as possible. Move far afield once she's found her special talent. Try on groups of friends. Become distant, maybe even surly. But you must have faith that as she ages into a mare she will realize she's more like her parents than she realizes. Bonds of family cannot be escaped. And she will come back to you. Even Applejack left the farm for a time if you can believe it."

"Really?"

"And you see how she is now. What could replace all the love and experiences you've had?"

"Before these last few weeks I've never doubted. I certainly know she loves me. But it's like home is just a place to occasionally eat and sleep. Like I'm just there for her needs."

"Who do you suppose she'll turn to in a crisis?"

I cracked a cynical grin. "Rainbow Dash?"

She frowned. "Darling, when we have our next crisis Rainbow will no doubt be in the middle of it doing what she does. Being a hero. You'll be doing what you do. And Scootaloo will always cling to that despite her stubbornness."

"I hope you are correct, Miss Rarity." The fashionista responded with just a sage-like smile. I let out a tired sigh. "Mares are so complicated. Maybe I should try dating stallions."

"Let me know if that is a serious notion. Considering the circles I travel in I know plenty."





"How was your day, honey bunch?"

My daughter slumped onto her bed. "Frustrating. We spent all day trying to find out how Rainbow Dash got her cutie mark and kept running into other ponies who had to go on and on about theirs. Finally we caught up to her." She looked over at me and perked up considerably. "And you know what? Dash's awesome stunt was responsible for all her friends' cutie marks! Like they never would have gotten theirs if she hadn't made a sonic rainboom, BOOM! PheeeeWwww!" 

My response was measured. "That is quite awesome." 

"Yeah..." She rolled over on her back,  dreaming of attaining such valor perhaps. 

"Well."

"What?"

"Aren't you going to ask your dad how he got his cutie mark?"

She face-hoofed. "Ugh! I've heard so many already."

"Okay. If mine doesn't matter to you I'll drop it."

She rolled over and in mock interest and sweetness intoned, "Alright, daddy. How did you get Your cutie mark?"

"It started when my friend Felix, remember meeting him? Felix asked me what flying was like and the best I could come up with that an earth pony could understand was that it was like going really fast in a cart, right? That got him curious so we spent a weekend building a two-pony go cart. We pushed that contraption up a few hills outside out of town and we were off! Unfortunately we were so excited to get the cart built and to race it both of us forgot to build in brakes."

"Uh oh."

"Indeed. Everything was going great until we got to little the bridge going over Houndstooth Gulch. Felix panicked, managed to take us across the bridge instead of into the creek below, but hit the railing and we both tumbled out. He landed safely on his rump, lucky jerk. I tumbled right over the bridge, tried to land, but hit one of the pylons and dropped like a sack of oats into the mud below."

"Were you hurt?"

"Mostly my pride but my shoulder troubled me for a few days. So I found myself in this little swampy stream while Felix went back into town to get help-"

"You got your cutie mark for crashing?"

"No. I was alone waiting for help, in pain and unable to fly. I totally forgot about all of this when I looked around me. My arrival had disturbed the birds who nested under the bridge. Cliff swallows, barn swallows. There were purple martins amongst the cat tails. All of them were darting around and checking on their chicks. After a while they went back to snatching the many bugs present right out of the air. They were so graceful and quick!" I smiled broadly at the remembrance. 

"That was it?"

"I felt a deep kinship with these birds somehow. And then I remembered a fairy tale your grandmother used to read me about a swallow that made friends with a statue. It was one of my favorites. I remembered it and how it made me feel. There was... I can't really define it, this incredible feeling of being in the right place. Eventually when they fished me out of the much I had this."

"A story about a bird a s statue making friends? Sounds sappy."

"On the contrary it's one of the saddest stories I'be ever heard. Kind of has a tacked on happy ending, I guess. You know your daddy likes the sad, sad stories best."

"Dad, don't take this the wrong way but your story is more boring than Fluttershy's. But can you show me how to build a go cart?"

"You wash up for dinner, sassy lass. And remember to do your chores before bedtime. School night."

"Daad!"

"Go... Love you." She smirked and stomped off. That child has no respect for transcendent moments. I smiled and went back to my book. Maybe if she slowed down and listened to herself and how she fit into the world she would get what she wanted.