//------------------------------//
// The Forty-third of the First Moon, year 1820 of Celestia's reign 
// Story: Scootaloo's Hollow 
// by Dead_Mares 
//------------------------------//

"Hey Dreadwing!" Scootaloo called on her way to school. Strangely she had opted to leave her scooter at home and was instead trotting happily down the narrow dirt path from her home.

"You are on hoof today," Dreadwing observed from his usual waiting spot at the end of the trail.

Scootaloo nodded. "Yeah. My scooter is having some problems so I'll have to walk for a while."

"That's too bad. I can fix it with my magic if you bring it to me."

"No thanks. I actually kind of want to try fixing it myself," she said with an oddly cheery note to her voice.

Dreadwing frowned as the filly walked past him, but he said nothing. There was something off about her mannerisms that morning, but he couldn't place his finger on what it was. He decided he would watch her more carefully that day to make sure it wasn't because of anything serious.

It was serious. Or, so it seemed to Dreadwing. Something had happened to Scootaloo between the previous evening and that morning, he was sure of it. Every smile was forced, each word too polite, and while it might have seemed to most that she was happier than normal, the link they shared told a different story. The unintentional mental wall she always had around her darker thoughts was bristling quite violently, and she was trying harder than usual to keep herself from breaking down. As well as this, her promise to Dreadwing was circling through her mind unusually frequently.

"Should I follow her home?" he thought as he watched her head home that night. He shivered at the thought of entering that gloomy house again. "No. I do not believe it is necessary for such actions yet, but I must keep a watchful eye over her in the coming time. Something is changing, and I do not think it is for the better."