Scootaloo goggled at the Emberwolf, marvelling at its astonishing promise. Her voice was weak from wonder.
“You’ll teach me to what?”
The Emberwolf didn’t answer. It turned to leave.
“Hey!” Scootaloo blurted. “Um – I wanna talk to my aunts.” For although she now dared to trust in the beast, there remained part of her, the smallest whisper near the bottom of her soul, that warned her she was being reckless. Just because it was the Night of the Impossible, that didn’t mean that monsters were suddenly friendly, that they were suddenly nice. No, it was best to be careful, even despite her newfound trust.
She needed to talk to somepony.
She needed her aunts.
The Emberwolf paused before the doorway. Then it faced Scootaloo, bowed its head and said, “Of course. If you have something to discuss with your aunts, I won’t stop you. Take as long as you need.”
Without another word, it squeezed its flaming way through the doorframe, flicked its crystal tail, and bounded down the landing. Scootaloo stared at the empty doorway – then she sighed, and looked around the bedroom. The flames remained frozen in place. They were beautiful to touch. They didn’t burn, but rather they gave her the same feeling as sinking into a hot bath: her skin tingled at the sensation of those flames. And whenever she touched them, they vanished into thin air (though, there was so much fire in the room there was little chance of her vanishing the whole lot).
The silence was thick; it made her feel off-balance.
She wandered over to the twin candles on the bedside desk.
Aunt Holiday. Aunt Lofty.
She was closer to them than her own parents. How could she not be? Mom and Dad’s jobs took them all over Equestria – which was how Scootaloo had come to live with her aunts for five nights of every week.
“Aunt Holiday,” she whispered. “Aunt Lofty. What do I do?”
The tiny flames that were Aunt Holiday and Aunt Lofty danced upon their wicks. Scootaloo might have worried about accidentally blowing them out – but, more than ever, she saw there was no reason to be nervous. These ponies-turned-flames were alive in ways unknown to normal fire. They were full of love. They blazed with wondrous life.
In a voice which sounded as though it was spoken from a hundred miles away, Aunt Holiday said, “Hiding didn’t work, darling one, so you’re going to have to be brave. You’re going to have to be very, very brave. You will have to be outstanding.”
Scootaloo shook her head. “I don’t wanna be brave. I want you guys to make everything better.”
“We’re sorry, Scoots,” Aunt Lofty said. “We can’t help you with this.”
“But why?”
Even as she said it, Scootaloo felt silly. Of course she had to do this on her own! What use were a pair of candles against a demonic wolf?
Aunt Holiday shushed her. “Do you trust us, dear Scootaloo? Then lean in close and listen hard, because this is the most important thing we’ll ever say to you: you don’t need our help.”
Scootaloo’s mouth became drier than ever. “That’s not true. I—”
“But it is true,” Aunt Holiday said. “And do you know the reason? Do you know why there isn’t another filly alive who we’d trust to take care of this? Because you are the bravest foal in Ponyville. Probably the bravest filly in the world.”
“You walk with the sky in your heart,” Aunt Lofty added. “You live with friendship in your spirit. You fly with Rainbow Dash in your soul.”
“If anypony can face the Emberwolf,” Aunt Holiday said, “anypony at all, then it’s you, our darling bravest one. It’s so unfair that we must ask this of you: but go downstairs. Find out what it wants from you, then figure out how to get it to leave. The snow, too. We don’t know how, but Lofty and I are convinced that the wolf has something to do with it. It must do.”
“What about the photos? D’you know what the Emberwolf did to ’em?”
Scootaloo’s heart sank at the response. “Hmm? Photographs? We don’t know anything about any photographs, we’re afraid,” said Aunt Lofty.
“But listen,” Aunt Holiday added with fiery urgency. “Never mind about that – concentrate on your escape. And if it turns out that you can’t save us, then promise us – promise us – that you won’t wait around. Get out of here. This house could collapse at any moment.”
Scootaloo made to shake her head again – but instead, she found herself nodding, and her resolve crystalized like the rubies that formed the Emberwolf’s tail. She had a goal, now. It was an impossible, shoot-for-the-moon goal that seemed harder with every passing second – but then again, this was the Night of the Impossible, wasn’t it? She was the filly who held Rainbow Dash in her soul! She was the foal who could walk through fire, stare straight into the flames and see their true and shining beauty! In that moment, it didn’t enter her head that she might need to abandon her aunts: because she wouldn’t let them down. She refused to.
Aunt Holiday spoke again. “We love you, Scootaloo.”
“We love you more than you’ll ever know,” Aunt Lofty said, “And it’s not just us, either, but your mom and your dad, and Rainbow Dash, and your friends as well.”
Scootaloo shivered at the mention of her friends.
“What if you’re wrong?” she said. “What if Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle don’t love me? What if I’m just a horrible filly who doesn’t deserve friends?”
But Aunt Holiday said, “Do not doubt yourself. Instead, believe in your friends, and in the glow of their love.”
“Go,” Aunt Lofty said. “Be fierce. Be brave. Be Scootaloo.”
Scootaloo nodded again, solemnly. “I love you guys too,” she whispered. Then she turned around and trotted into the landing. She walked with the sky in her heart, and she didn’t look back.