//------------------------------// // Reckless Courage // Story: No Worse Want // by RaylanKrios //------------------------------// Scootaloo didn’t say much during breakfast, aside from complimenting Spike on his cooking. Twilight opted to let her eat, filling the silence by checking up on how Spike was managing the library. Ever since Twilight had moved into the crystal castle and assumed her duties as princess, Spike had increasingly taken over the role of librarian. He hadn’t given her any reason to worry, but she couldn’t quite let go of that part of her old life. “Are you ready for inventory Spike?” Twilight asked between sips of coffee. Spike rolled his eyes just a little bit at the well-worn question. “Yes and I’ve got next month’s book fair order ready to go as soon as we decide on a theme.” “Just checking Spike. I’m still head librarian,” she chided him—gently, she thought, but his extra-big bite of pancake told her he was done talking for now. So Twilight turned to the only other pony at the table, doing her best to say something as innocuous as possible. “How about you, Scootaloo? Any plans for today?” Scootaloo looked up from her eggs—she had finished her own pancakes—and from the look on her face Twilight knew she’d put another hoof wrong. “I’m going out,” she said quietly. “OK,” Twilight retreated. But rather than defuse the situation, her words made Scootaloo’s head snap up as though she had been poked. “Just like that? You’re not going to remind me that if I don’t come back you’re going to call the Guard on me?” “Sounds like I don’t have to.” Twilight smiled with what she hoped came across as good humor and unflappable serenity, though she wasn’t feeling much of either at the moment. “You’ve been coming and going as you please for the past three years, it’d be pretty presumptuous of me to tell you what you should do all day.” “Like that’s ever stopped you before,” Spike coughed. Twilight shot him a not now frown and Spike again busied himself with his breakfast. “As I was saying, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, as long as you’re safe and haven’t gone back to living out on  the streets again,” Twilight sighed. “Even if I could, I still wouldn’t.” “What do you mean you can’t? You’re a princess, you can do whatever you want.” Twilight didn’t answer immediately. She still hadn’t fully worked out how she was going to put last night’s findings to use; how could she explain them to Scootaloo in a way she’d understand? “It just doesn’t work that way,” she said finally, disappointed in how flat the words fell. There were still a couple forkfuls of eggs on the plate, but Scootaloo leapt from her chair. “Thanks for breakfast, Spike,” she said, approaching the dining room doorway. “Like I said, I’m going out. I’ve got stuff to do.” “Spike and I will be here if you need anything,” Twilight called after her. From around the corner, Twilight heard the front doors creak open and, a few moments later, click shut. She sighed again, levitating Scootaloo’s plate and utensils into the air towards the kitchen. “Doesn’t sound like she’s warming up to the whole thing, does she?” Spike said, trotting behind Twilight with his own plate in tow. “Unfortunately no. I think she still resents me for hovering,” she added, by way of easing into an apology. Spike beat her to it, though. “She’ll see your heart’s in the right place. I got used to it, didn’t I?” he said with a wave of his free claw. “I had hoped that pancakes would help, though.” “Good as they are, Spike, I don’t think they’ll be enough to earn her trust.” A quick nuzzle and a horn flick later, and the dishes were soaking in the sink. Spike nodded, looking slightly hurt at the notion that his baking wasn’t as revolutionary as he’d have liked. “So, what are you going to do, Twilight? You said yourself we can’t just keep her here.” “I might have an idea.” Breakfast might not have gone as well as she hoped, but Twilight was still miles ahead of where she started. And with Scootaloo out on her personal business and Spike managing the library, Twilight had all the time she needed to put the lessons of her all-nighter to use. Theoretically, Ponyville’s foal services office was a part of the municipal services. Twilight’s research had turned up layers and layers of bureaucracy, and she’d spent many hours working out how to navigate it before happening upon the agency’s budget. It turned out there wasn’t one; not a single bit or staffpony dedicated to the paper entity. Putting aside the issue of how to feel about her findings—whether relief that Ponyville had never needed this contingency before or frustration that it had been allowed to languish—they presented an obstacle and an opportunity. On the one hoof, there was nopony Twilight could turn to for help. On the other, this wasn’t the first time she had been called upon to organize a part of the town government, and she knew just what kind of letter to write. Dear Mayor Mare, As of January 21st, 1007 CE and pursuant to the Clear Need clause of the Ponyville town charter, section 3, subsection 5, I, Princess Twilight Sparkle, have assumed temporary reserve authority over Ponyville’s Foal Services Office until such time as a Director of Foal Services is appointed and provided with a salary and staff commensurate with her duties. Faithfully yours, Twilight Sparkle It was terse but then again it didn’t need to be eloquent. With her authority now documented she drafted a request to Manehattan’s Foal Services office for Scootaloo’s records and officially designated Scootaloo a ward of the state under the care of Ponyville Foal Services, which of course consisted solely of herself. Now she could begin dealing with the problem. For the first time since she arrived in Ponyville, Scootaloo was unsure what to do. The past three years had been an exercise in day to day survival. Wake up, find food, fortify shelter, earn bits for emergencies. But now, at least temporarily, food and shelter were taken care of. That left her a rare opportunity to focus on saving up for a rainy day. Since the hardware store was as close as she had to a sure thing, that was her first stop. The bell tied to the doorframe rang as Scootaloo walked through the door. Sturdy was perched in his usual spot, behind the counter with his usual ball of hay wedged in his right cheek. But where he usually offered Scootaloo a smile this time he narrowed his eyes. “‘Loo?” Unsettled though she was, Scootaloo put on her best happy smile. “Hi Mr. Craft, got anything for me to do today?” The elder stallion cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, not reciprocating the grin. “Out with it, what’s eatin’ ya? It took Scootaloo all of her willpower to maintain up her facade.“Nothing. What makes you think anything’s wrong?” “I may not be as spry as I used ta be, kid, but I’m still plenty sharp. You got a day off from school, it ain’t that cold out, and you want to spend it in a hardware shop instead of with your friends? Something’s gnawing at ya.” “Maybe I don’t have any friends,” Scootaloo shot back. Sturdy smiled a wry grin. “Spunky little filly like you? You got friends.” “I do,” Scootaloo admitted. The shop owner shrugged. “Royal Guard lookin for ya?” Scootaloo practically jumped in shock.“What? No!” The reaction prompted a low chuckle, that vanished with the next question.“Your parents know where you are?” “Yeah.” As usual that wasn’t a strictly true statement, but it was true in spirit. “Well then if you want to hide from the world here, you’re welcome to. But can I offer you some advice from an old stallion?” “Sure.” “Whatever you’re runnin’ from, it’s gonna catch up to you, it always does.” Scootaloo hesitated for just a moment, almost imperceptibly. “What makes you think that I’m running from something?” Her response earned her yet another low chuckle. “This conversation is starting to sound familiar. Next you’ll be telling me that you might not have friends.” Scootaloo didn’t say anything. To her surprise, Sturdy chuckled his familiar, amused low chuckle once more. “Just some food for thought, from an old pony who’s been around is all. What’s your business is your business.” Normally, Scootaloo would have felt immense relief at keeping her secret safe. In the wake of Twilight’s discovery, however, this particular victory felt rather hollow. “And speaking of business,” Sturdy continued, “I do actually have somethin’ for you to do.” At the chance to both earn some extra bits, and to talk on any other subject besides the current one, Scootaloo’s “yes?” came out much more eagerly than she meant it to. “Whole bunch of ponies came in to stock up on things to seal up their homes in the wake of this cold spell. Nails, planks, caulk, anythin’ to get rid of a pesky draft.” Scootaloo nodded her head. “Ponies browse for things, ponies find things, then ponies find things they like better, but ponies don’t always put the old things back where they should be.” “Oh… got it.” Re-organizing misplaced merchandise was a time-consuming and tedious task, and Mr. Craft knew it. As such, he generally paid his employees well for it. Scootaloo began to trot off to the first aisle, labeled “Measurements/Levels” by a hanging sign. “Smart filly, that one,” Sturdy mumbled to himself with a grin. “Oh, speaking of— Scootaloo!” “Yeah?” “How did everything work out with that soldering iron?” Scootaloo could have laughed, simple question being absurd when she thought about it . Instead she angled herself to the right. “Still no cutie mark.” “Oh… ” Sturdy’s grin faltered. “Sorry to hear that.” “Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed, turning back to the aisle. “Me too.”