Upon entering Ponyville, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had split up. Scootaloo had taken the horseradish to her own home, and Applebloom, though apprehensive about leaving the horseradish alone with Scootaloo, left with Sweetie Belle. By this time, it was evening, and instead of going all the way back home in the dark- -which would have put her at high risk of encountering something unsavory, like a timberwolf or Discord- -she spent the night at Sweetie Belle’s house.
This was not an unusual occurrence, and nopony suspected a thing. Sweetie Belle’s mother even made cookies, and although Applebloom was able to eat six of them, Sweetie Belle was so guilt-ridden that she could barely finish the remaining two and a half dozen. She then fell asleep in the remainder, only to awake from a horrible nightmare about Twilight’s filly-sized rack and Applejack’s story. That was made far worse, though, when she realized that she had sleep-walked earlier in the night and had awoken cuddling Applebloom.
Although Applebloom did not seem to mind, Sweetie Belle had a hard time talking to her the next morning when the two of them followed Scootaloo’s instructions to her home.
“I hope the horseradish is okay,” said Applebloom. “He needs to be watered periotically, but only with really pure water, ideally with a trace of potassium nitrate. Not sodium, nitrate, though! She better not have used sodium!”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Sweetie Belle, still having a hard time being able to look at her friend without imagining the soft fluffiness of her mane and the way she smelled like sweet apple flowers.
“But what if she put him near a window? What if the light is wrong? He could get leggy!”
“He’ll be fine,” repeated Sweetie Belle. “Scootaloo is our friend for a reason. She’s a responsible pony, and we trust her. Right?”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked at each other, and then broke into a trot toward Scootaloo’s house.
What they found, though, was that the directions did not lead to a residential section of town. They actually led to the outskirts of town, to a place where the farthest buildings were still visible but only on the far edge of a large field. They had in fact arrived at a bridge. Not the hoofpath bridge in the center of town, but a train causeway over a ravine that was used as Ponyville’s primary drainage canal.
“Um, this isn’t right,” said Applebloom.
“This is where the directions she left said to go.”
“Are you sure? You know how bad she is at writing.”
“I’m sure.”
They stared at the train bridge for a moment, and then walked around it until Sweetie Belle rolled down the embankment toward the dirty river below. Applebloom watched her go, and then followed her down a narrow and well-worn path to the shore. As she did, she paused and realized what Scootaloo’s instructions had meant.
Scootaloo lived under the bridge. There, sitting just beneith it, was a ramshackle shack made of debris and detritus that she had pulled from the river. It had walls made of moldering plywood augmented with rusty corrugated sheet metal. The size was roughly equal to that of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse, but it was lopsided and far less sturdy.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious a Pegasus built it. I’m surprised she didn’t just use clouds.”
“Why?” said Sweetie Belle, pulling herself from the river. “She’d never be able to get to it.”
“True,” said Applebloom, lifting her hoof to knock on a door that seemed to be mostly made of plastic bottles hammered over various bits of cracked driftwood. When she went to tap, though, the door fell in. The sight that Applebloom and Sweetie Belle were greeted with was as unexpected as it was disturbing.
Inside, Scootaloo and the horseradish were standing in the center of the dirt-floored room. Scootaloo was dressed in a tight pleather jacket with an equally pleather cap, and had accessories heavily with chains. She was holding a riding crop in her mouth. The horseradish, meanwhile, had been given a small brown vest and an old looking cowpony hat. To Applebloom, it looked like the plant version of her cousin Braeburn.
“SCOOTALOO!” cried Applebloom, feeling her voice rise several octaves until it was almost to a point that could only be heard by dogs and Fluttershy. “What in the Sam Hill do you think you’re DOINT?!”
“Nothing,” said Scootaloo, letting the riding crop fall out of her mouth. When she realized that they did not believe her, she adjusted her answer. “Just…you know. Roleplaying. Dress up. Fillies do that all the time.”
“NOT LIKE THIS!” squealed Applebloom.
“Where did you even get clothes like that?” said Sweetie Belle, lifting the corner of Scootaloo’s jacket.
“I use them for work,” said Scootaloo.
“Work? You’re a filly. Fillies don’t work.”
“Most fillies don’t. But most fillies also, you know, have parents. Or relatives. Or don’t live under a bridge. I have to eat too, Sweets.”
“And what do you do?”
“I cuddle colts for money. I’m apparently really soft. Also, I really need the hugs. I get so lonely.” She sat up and held out her hooves, gesturing for Sweetie Belle to come closer. “Come on, Sweets, you know you want to!”
Sweetie Belle put her hoof against Scootaloo’s head and pushed her over. She then turned to Applebloom, who was fretting over her horseradish.
“What did she do to you?” she asked, inspecting its leaves. “Scootaloo, if you touched a leaf on his adorable little head I’ll buck you so hard Rainbow Dash will squeal!”
“I didn’t do anything!” said Scootaloo. “I just dressed him up in silly outfits! He enjoys it! Don’t you?”
The horseradish nodded, and both Sweetie Belle and Applebloom jumped back.
“He- -he understood?” squeaked Sweetie Belle.
“He understood!” cried Applebloom, swelling with pride.
“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “Of course he understands. Watch this. Who’s your favorite pony?”
The horseradish lifted one of its hooves and pointed at a wall.
“Well…okay, maybe not that smart. But you’ll love this!”
Scootaloo bounded across the room to where an extremely beat up and water-damaged phonograph was sitting. She set the needle on an extremely warped record and activated it. A horrid tune came out, and Sweetie Belle covered her ears.
“ACK!” she cried. “I can see why they flushed that down the river!”
The horseradish seemed to suddenly become alert, though, and it looked around. Despite not having any discernable ears, it seemed to be able to hear. It stood up straight and suddenly tilted to one side, pulling its feet on the opposite side off the ground. It bounced twice, and then tipped to the other side and repeated the process.
“What is it doing?”
“Dancing!” cried Scootaloo. She laughed, and also started dancing. Applebloom, astounded, froze for a moment, but then danced with them as well. Sweetie Belle did her best to join out of sheer peer pressure, but had trouble because of how absolutely terribly the music was.
The record eventually ended, and the horseradish stopped dancing. The Cutie Mark Crusaders fell onto the floor, all of them laughing.
“I can’t believe that just happened!” said Applebloom.
“I know, right? I don’t even remember why I felt so bad befo- -oh. Now I do.”
“I wonder what else it can do?”
Scootaloo stood up. “Why don’t we find out?”
“Find out? How?”
“Well, you know. The same way we used to do with our cutie marks. When was the last time we just went out and did random stuff that could probably hurt us really badly?”
“It has been a while…”
“No,” said Sweetie Belle. “We’re supposed to be HIDING the horseradish. Not playing with it.”
“But he’s having so much fun,” protested Sweetie Belle. “I mean, did you ever stop to think why he didn’t just stay in the ground? It must be so boring down there. I wouldn’t want to be buried like that! At least not a second time…”
“You can’t be serious. Applebloom, talk some sense into Scootaloo. And if she won’t listen to sense, smack the sense into her!”
“I don’t know,” said Applebloom. “Not about smacking Scootaloo, that’s neither here nor there. But the horseradish…I mean, I want him to enjoy life, but at the same time, I don’t want him to get hurt…” She paused. “I’m turning into a mother, aren’t I? Gosh darn it.” She sighed, and then looked at Sweetie Belle with her enormous brownish eyes. Sweetie Belle felt her heart suddenly beat faster and to her horror realized that Applebloom was surprisingly cute.
Applebloom, of course, did not understand at all why Sweetie Belle blushed so much so suddenly. A twinge of anger did come over her, though, as she wondered if the white filly was eyeing her horseradish.
“Don’t you be thinking about touching my root, Sweetie Belle.”
“Me? What- -I wasn’t!” gasped Sweetie Belle with a small squeal. “I- -we’re friends- -and fillies and- -”
“And I think we should take the horseradish out.” She turned toward the plant, who rocked forward and backward excitedly. “He needs sunlight for photosynthesis.”
“But ponies will see him!”
“This town has, like, fifty different locations and tops twenty ponies. We’ll just go where they aren’t.”
“I’m really good at that,” said Scootaloo. Her expression fell, and she sniffled. “I’m so alone when you guys aren’t with me…”
Sweetie Belle grumbled for a moment. “Well…I really, REALLY don’t want to get, you know, tortured in a dungeon. You know. Chains, whips, being tied up and left on a cold floor while ponies yell at me.” As she said this, she noticed Scootaloo’s wings slowly start to rise. “But I’m also really, really reckless. I think all three of us are. And Scootaloo’s house smells like sour milk. So, yeah. Why don’t we do it.”
The other two cheered, and the horseradish quivered with anticipation. Sweetie Belle, though, had the strangest feeling that this would end badly.