Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle slowly approached Scootaloo, who was sitting at a table, alone. Her head was down, and she seemed dejected; her lunch remained on the table, unopened and uneaten.
“It’s not so bad,” Sweetie Belle said reassuringly as she slid into the seat next to her friend. “I’m sure you got a lot of points on the costume aspect.”
“No, it’s not that,” Scootaloo said quietly. “All the other projects mentioned how what they did affected our lives. My presentation was how awesome Little Red Riding Hood was, but if she hadn’t given it up to be Pin Feather, I never would have been born. And I guess I can’t see why she did it. Little Red Riding Hood was awesome. If I were her, I’d never stop.” She pursed her lips. “She also bound her wings so she’d look like an earth pony. Now I’m wondering if I inherited tiny wings from her.”
“Well, on the bright side, inheritance don’t work that way,” Apple Bloom said confidently. That confidence waned as she admitted, “But I can’t help with the first part.”
“Me neither,” Sweetie Belle said. “But true love can change a pony.”
“If you say so,” Scootaloo mumbled.
“Hey, Rainbow Dash? Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did, Squirt; but feel free to ask another.”
Scootaloo cracked a smile, but became serious again. “Would you ever give up being a Wonderbolt?”
Rainbow Dash chuckled, taken aback. “Well, that’s a new one,” she admitted. “Uh, I’m not planning on it. I’ve been wanting to be a Wonderbolt for, like, ever. And I’m great at it.”
“Yeah, you are; but… would anything make you give it up?” Scootaloo pressed.
Rainbow shrugged. “Maybe if I found something I wanted more. What’s with these questions?”
Scootaloo looked down. “Just curious.”
Scootaloo opened the door. “Hey, Aunt Holiday?” she called.
Holiday grunted, lifting her head up from the couch.
“Would you ever give up baking?”
“No,” she said instantly. “It’s therapeutic.”
“And fattening,” Lofty sang.
“And fun, and I enjoy it,” Holiday cut her off. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut before I change my mind about making brownies tonight.”
Lofty mimed zipping her lips shut.
“What would make you give it up? Theoretically, I mean.”
“If Lofty became lactose intolerant,” Holiday answered. “I wouldn’t want to bake anything I couldn’t share, anyway.”
Scootaloo pursed her lips.
Twilight opened the door to see an orange filly standing there. “Hi, Scootaloo,” she started.
“Why did she give it up?” Scootaloo started.
Twilight pursed her lips, trying to remember this context, but then brightened. “Oh, yes. It’s… well, maybe we should read her last journal entries. She can tell us herself.”
The journal was found, and seats were procured.
Visited the grave of Arby today.
“Arby?”
“Arboreal Verdance; her timberwolf.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Still hard to believe he’s gone.
Stopped another carriage today. Was in a sour mood. Holding this prince for ransom.
Regretting holding this prince for ransom. He has not stopped whining since he got here. His guard is tolerable. More polite. Probably because he has an injured leg. Cannot run. They had better pay handsomely for this whelp or I might actually go through with my threat to send him back in pieces.
Stopped another carriage. They had heard I have prince blood-something, and gave their bits up quickly.
They skipped over the ledger of what she’d taken.
His guard actually helped cook lunch today. He was the youngest, watched his mother in the kitchen. I don’t care, but still.
I am going to cook and eat this prince, I swear it. I am certain he will taste foul, but I will press on anyway just out of sheer spite.
Let his guard out of the chains today. He’s decent.
Spent the day with his guard. Never realized how nice other ponies’ company can be.
Heard word that a rescue party was coming. They will find the prince (most likely with a concussion), but Little Red Riding Hood will be long gone. Showed Sky Dancer my wings. He found a pin feather. I had hoped he’d find something else
It is done. This is my last entry as Little Red Riding Hood. And yet, I regret nothing. For years I have demanded that others stand and deliver, today I stand and deliver. I give up my identity, and become somepony new. And I believe my gift shall be glorious.
“Wait, so that’s it?” Scootaloo asked.
“Yep. Guard records show that Prince Blueblood was found the next day in an abandoned hideout, tied up, with no sign of Little Red Riding Hood or Sky Dancer anywhere.”
“That was, like, nothing!”
“There’s a lot that’s missing,” Twilight conceded.
“What was so great about this Sky Dancer guy?”
“We don’t know, specifically. But I bet he was just a sweet guy, just doing his job, and they just… became friends.”
“There should be more,” Scootaloo said firmly. “And if it doesn’t exist, I’m making it myself.” She glanced around. “Hey, Spike, want to help me write a play?”
Cheerilee arrived early at the schoolhouse on Monday morning, ready for a new week.
To her surprise, there was somepony there waiting for her. Scootaloo sat in front of the door, playing with a paddleball. She brightened as she saw her teacher approach (and paid for her lapse in concentration with a ball to the muzzle). “Miss Cheerilee!”
“Yes, Scootaloo?”
“So, uh, you remember my project? I figured out what I did wrong. Pin Feather gave up being Little Red Riding Hood because she found something she loved more, and so what I learned was it’s ok to give up what you want for something you want more.” She paused. “Also that colts aren’t that bad,” she added.
Cheerilee smiled wryly. “That’s very good, but it’s a little late to change your grade, Scootaloo. It wouldn’t be fair to the others.”
“I know,” Scootaloo said, “but I’d still like to fix it. So I’ve written this, and I’m hoping we could perform it for the fall festival?” She held it up hopefully.
Cheerilee took it and scanned the first page. Then the second. Then the third. And a little smile spread across her face.
Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon walked across the stage, their eyes comically wide. “Oh, I hope nothing bad happens to our ill-gotten goods,” Diamond started. “What if Little Red Riding Hood haunts these woods?”
“Fear not, milady,” Silver Spoon answered. “For the rogue Little Red Riding Hood is naught but a myth.”
“Then today is the day myths come to life!” Scootaloo leapt from the shadows, her cape billowing, with Apple Bloom the timberwolf bounding along behind her. She straightened up proudly. “Stand and deliver!”