Whenever Scootaloo made sandwiches in the kitchen, it was in the glare of a chalk dragon she had scrawled upon the pantry door. When she read adventure books in the living room, her two best friends, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, smiled at her from photographs on the walls. And each night, when she fell asleep, she was watched over from a dozen different photos by her foalsitter: a pegasus named Rainbow Dash, who was the best pony in the world.
In every way conceivable, and in every way yet to be conceived, Rainbow Dash was perfect.
Whereas Scootaloo’s coat was the colour of autumn, Rainbow’s held the soul of the sky: it was bright blue, and her mane and tail were streaked with rainbows. They were wind-swept, even when the wind was nowhere to be felt.
“It’s ’cause I let the sky into my heart, kid, and it’s lived there ever since,” Rainbow had once explained. A moment later, an awestruck Scootaloo had gathered her wits and asked what exactly this meant. Rainbow had coughed sheepishly and changed the subject. Even so, despite the lack of a clear answer, the words fascinated Scootaloo. She wondered at them. She treasured them. And from that moment, she vowed to live with the sky in her heart and Rainbow Dash in her soul.
And the way Rainbow flew…
At just-turned-eleven, Scootaloo struggled to hover so much as three hoof-lengths from the ground. Rainbow, however, cut through the sky like the sky was her ocean, and as though she was a dolphin, a swordfish. She flew with such speed and joy that Scootaloo’s heart ached at the sight of it. How she longed to soar beside her hero herself!
All of which was why, that night, Scootaloo needed Rainbow Dash more than ever: because that was the night she drifted in and out of shadows and nightmares.
She dreamed of fireplaces, of being gobbled alive by creatures made of flames, and then of Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. She dreamed that her friends had changed. The pair of them had midnight claws and foulsome fangs, and fire cackling laughter. They circled her in a wide dark space. They chanted in the language of loneliness, with words Scootaloo didn’t understand the meanings of but which made her feel queasy.
“G-go away,” Scootaloo whimpered at them. “Leave me alone!”
Her two former friends laughed at her. Their claws glowed red as fire.
“You’ve changed, Scootaloo!” the demonic Sweetie Belle spat.
Scootaloo shrank back. “N-no I haven’t. I’m the same as ever.”
“You’ve gone and changed,” insisted the monstrous Apple Bloom. “You ain’t our friend no more. Friends don’t hurt friends. Friends don’t shout at each other, like what you did in your aunt’s living room.”
“I didn’t mean to shout! It’s just – I just—”
But Scootaloo didn’t know how to finish. She flinched and thrashed – she shot up in bed—
“Rainbow! Help!”
Her breath came in fearsome gulps; she glanced from the floor to the door to the ceiling. There was no sign of glowing claws nor venom dripping fangs in the inky gloom. There wasn’t any hint of Rainbow Dash.
It had been a dream. A vile, nasty little dream, and nothing more.
Scootaloo took a shuddering breath. She relished the firmness of her mattress, the warmth of her sheets. “Thank Rainbow,” she whispered, “it was a dream.” Then she scowled, for she remembered that Rainbow Dash wasn’t in Ponyville at all, let alone right there in the ivy coated cottage on the edge of Ponyville. In fact, she hadn’t seen the pegasus for months. It was hard to foalsit when living the life of a professional stunt flyer. It was hard for Rainbow to visit when touring across Equestria as the latest member of ponydom’s premier flight squad, the Wonderbolts.
Scootaloo sighed. Her gaze fell upon a calendar pinned to the back of the door, barely visible in the gloom. Around December 30th was a large circle with a scribble of a lightning bolt in it, a bolt coloured red, yellow and blue. It was a bolt that doubled as a promise.
But it wasn’t December 30th, not yet. It wasn’t even Hearth’s Warming Eve. Rainbow Dash felt further away than ever before.
Fumbling for her lamp, Scootaloo glanced at Rainbow’s smiling face from a cherished photo on the bedside desk.
She froze.
She reached out a hoof and touched the glass, where Rainbow should have been – yet Rainbow wasn’t there. The photo was empty. Although the sun still shined in the background, Rainbow Dash had simply… vanished. The picture showed just the trees and grass of Ponyville Common. Just emptiness.
Scootaloo held the frame with trembling hooves. She tilted it back and forth, as though hoping Rainbow would tumble back into the picture.
“Rainbow Dash,” she said. “Where are you?”