“Six years”, Scootaloo kept muttering to herself. Her mind had barely been able to keep itself from thinking about what might have been, and on the anniversary of that lost opportunity, Scootaloo was doing all she could mentally to hold back her emotions… until she could drown them later on with some of Applejack’s hardest cider.
Scootaloo loved flying more than she remembered dreaming about it; the aerial currents flowing through her wings, the sunlight falling across her extremities, and…
Tears started to form in the pegasus’ eyes, and momentarily blurred her vision. Not wanting to risk a crash landing, she shook her head to dislodge the salty secretions, and eyed her target landing spot for an approach. With practiced grace and skill, Scootaloo touched down, lightly picking up a trot that carried her to a final destination, saddlebags lightly bouncing against her body.
As she approached the door, Scootaloo raised a hoof to knock, but her mind paralyzed itself for a second, flooding her thoughts with questions and self-doubt. Does this really go any good? All this does is make you sad once a year.
Shaking her head again, she rapped on the door thrice with a hoof. The door opened momentarily, and Scootaloo was greeted by Roseluck, proprietor of Ponyville Plants and Horticulture. “Hello, my dear. I take it you’ve come for your order, hmm?” the earth pony enquired.
Scootaloo nodded her head, “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got your payment right here.” The orange pegasus reached into one of her saddlebags, and plucked out a small purse of bits, before handing it over to Roseluck. Trotting inside briefly, Roseluck returned with a small bouquet. “Here you go, Scootaloo. As ordered, a bouquet of white tulips, pink lilies, and purple chrysanthemums. I’m sure she’d love them.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she would. Thanks again.” With the bouquet in hoof, Scootaloo saluted Roseluck, and made her usual ascent into the sky. Her destination wasn’t that far away, but she wanted to ensure the flowers got to their destination as soon as possible today. She’s done this exact same route many a time, and could navigate it blind if she had to; as her autopilot kicked in, her mind wound itself back to… that dark day. Everypony around her told her that it wasn’t her fault, that she wasn’t to blame, that there was nothing that she could have done to prevent it.
Scootaloo held high standards for herself, a trait that rubbed off on her from Rainbow Dash, and she judged herself to have fallen well short of those high standards on that day. Ponies didn’t need to remind her that there was nothing she could have done; she knew that already, and that knowledge burned within her, like a smouldering ember that refused to be extinguished.
“She paid the price for my weaknesses. Never again…” she repeated to herself, a mantra that surfaced every year. She hoped that, in the heavens somewhere, her wayward friend’s soul could hear that pledge. “Would she ever forgive me?”
The outline of Ponyville Cemetery came into view; almost on instinct, she airbraked, and flew hard to the right, coming to land just in front of small obelisk. Flying in the breeze was the tattered remains of one of their crusading capes, presumably damaged by the elements. In what was now a yearly ritual, she removed the cape from the obelisk, and retrieved a bristled scrubber from one of her saddlebags. Ponyville was always full of life, and moss, lichens and weeds were no exception to this. Scootaloo always started with the front; she felt that her friend’s name should always be seen.
SWEETIE BELLE
AGED 12
TAKEN FROM US BEFORE HER TIME
MAY SHE FIND REST ETERNAL
Scootaloo lovingly tended to the flower bed in front of the marble obelisk, removing the weeds that had sprouted, before carefully placing her flowery bouquet in the small vase implanted in the soil. She turned her attention to the tattered cape, and fished out a replacement one from the other saddlebag, sliding it carefully in place at the top so that it fluttered in the breeze, yet remained firmly anchored in place.
She stood back, and allowed herself a brief moment to admire her own hoofwork. “See? Looking good as new.” she said, directing her speech in the direction of the marble in front of her. “I know I haven’t been coming here as often as I keep saying I would.”
Her eyes looked down at the ground, and tears welled up in her eyes, “Everypony says to me that it gets better… than the pain stops being as bad after a while. But it doesn’t!” the pegasus now began to raise her voice, “It feels like a piece of me died along with you!” Scootaloo sank to her knees, and raised her eyes once more to meet the engraved image of her fallen friend on the marble. “You died because I couldn’t fly to reach you! I couldn’t get to you, and you…” the pegasus started to softly sob into the dirt, striking a hoof against the grass in a futile attempt at anger release. She slowly unfolded her wings, almost as if she were presenting them for inspection. “You see these? After what happened, I got professional help to get me flying. Earlier this year, I finally earned my flight license. I even got a job with the Ponyville Express! But every time I think of what I have, my mind always comes back to you.”
Scootaloo sat on her flank, and pawed idly at the grass in front of her, “Every year I come here, I say to myself, ‘This will be the year… this will be the year I finally tell her’. Yet, every time I’ve come here, I’ve justified to myself why I shouldn’t say it. You died because of me... the least I can do for you is to be honest.”
The purple-maned pegasus got up, and put a hoof on the marble obelisk in front of her, “I… I loved you, S-Sweetie Belle,” she stammered, a fresh wave of tears building in her eyes, “If somepony asked me, I would give up my wings, just to hold you in my hooves, to tell you in person how I feel...”
“Now, now, Scootaloo… you of all ponies should know that you should be careful with what you wish for.”