//------------------------------// // New // Story: Finding Her Wings // by Starscribe //------------------------------// For the second time that night, Scootaloo was on her back in the dirt, moaning with pain. This time was far worse than rolling down a hill. Now her whole body ached, throbbing along to her own heartbeat along sensations that didn’t make sense. It was a little like the last time she’d wished to be big. She felt elongated, particularly her legs, but in other ways things made even less sense. Her coat felt strangely unprotected against the stone floor, with little bits of rock and debris pressing painfully into her flesh. And it might be autumn, but the night hadn’t felt so cold before. “Are you dead?” asked a voice. “Please don’t be dead. I was just defending myself.” She groaned in reply, trying to sit up. But her back rebelled, and instead all she did was flop around for a bit, dragging something strange against the floor as she did. Her hooves felt so… wrong. They were the most stretched of all, trailing sensation so acute she could feel every inch of the floor. Every crack in the cement, every pebble and bit of straw. A figure spoke from above her, the same outline she’d glimpsed dimly through the gloom. “Good. You’re, uh…oh. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” “Wait!” It was so dark, Scootaloo could barely see anything. But there was light at the far end of the hall, and a set of repeating hoofsteps. She tried to sit up again, this time pressing her forelegs up against the ground… and she managed to lift herself up. Her body wobbled for a moment, under an unfamiliar center of gravity. There was a weight to her that hadn’t been there before—her wings were heavier! Also… something was on her front? Curious, she reached down, feeling with a foreleg. Weirdly stretched limbs could be good for something. Then her face went bright red. She knew what those were, though she couldn’t say why they’d be so high up. I’m never gonna have foals, why would they be so big? She groaned, feeling the weight settle back under her as she let go. That was going to be annoying if she galloped. They’re the only one who knows what’s going on. Maybe they can help me. Scootaloo leaned forward, resting her forelegs under her. Her sensitive paws didn’t seem to want to move that way, and her back creaked unhappily. But she made it a few steps forward.  “Wait!” she called, as loud as she dared. “Don’t leave me down here!” Something slammed up ahead—a door. With it, the last of the light went out. But Scootaloo didn’t continue for much longer before dropping to the ground in despair, slumping against the wall. At least it didn’t hurt so much to sit like that. She shivered in the cold, clutching her forelegs around her chest. She didn’t seem to have fur anymore, which explained why she felt so cold. And why it hurt to sit on the ground. Her legs bent in ways she didn’t expect, so long she could barely keep track of where they were going. How am I supposed to move like this?  Cold, alone, and helpless, Scootaloo did something she never would’ve let anypony see her do: cry. She sniffed, fought it every second, told herself she was too old and too brave to cry. But she did it anyway, there in that cavern where she didn’t belong. But then the door opened again, and that towering figure emerged from the light there, clutching something against it. It moved forward, surprisingly well-balanced for those gangly little legs. Finally it stopped, close enough to attack. “This is when you get me, right?” Scootaloo croaked, wiping the tears from her eyes. “For… invading your burial ground or whatever?” The voice giggled, as high and musical as Sweetie Belle. “I’m not dead yet. You might be if you stay like that for much longer, uh… whatever you were.” She moved, tossing something gently at her. It landed on her legs in several pieces—bits of cloth. “You look about my size. Good thing too, since it’s been bloody ages since I’ve found new clothes. You’re stuck with seconds until we find more.” Something glowed from in front of her, hanging over Scootaloo in the air. Not the tip of her horn, though—it was in her hand. A flashlight, though it was the smallest she’d ever seen. A tiny piece of metal between two fingers lit up brighter than an oil lamp. “That is assuming I’m not just hearing things. If I just wasted all that power on a wild animal, and I didn’t hear you talking to me… please tell me I’m not an idiot.” As Scootaloo’s eyes cleared, she finally got a good look at the creature in her own glow. Furless skin like her own, though her hair was brown and plain. There was something pretty about her, in a way that she couldn’t have explained ten minutes ago. Graceful, confident, and with a larger chest than Scootaloo’s. She also wasn’t naked, but dressed in scraps of sturdy cloth, looking like they’d been patched together from a dozen different hand-me-downs. “I’m getting blank stares, so I’m going to guess this was a waste.” The stranger reached down one graceful arm, settling it on the pile of cloth. “I’m just going to… take this before you eat it.” “No!” Scootaloo finally said. “I mean… no, it wasn’t a waste.” She pulled back, holding it up against her chest. Not that she usually felt even a little bit embarrassed not wearing clothes, but… this stranger blushed whenever she looked, and that made Scootaloo share some of her feelings. “I can talk.” “Thank god.” The stranger relaxed, and the light dimmed between her fingers. “I’m sorry about the… whatever I did to you? Unless maybe I lifted an evil curse, in which case you can Venmo me.” Then she turned away, taking her little glow with her. “Wait!” she tried to rise, but of course she didn’t know how the stranger was walking. She could only watch as she retreated, balanced strangely on two legs. “I thought you’d want some privacy.” She stopped, facing her. “Since you’re, uh… do you care? I didn’t get a good look at you before, but I didn’t see any clothes. Maye you’re like… half animal? I’m afraid the clothes are non-negotiable if you’re with me.” She tossed something onto the ground in front of her—the strangely compact flashlight, which kept shining up at Scootaloo’s face. “So you can see what you’re doing. You can come into camp once you put that on.” She left. Scootaloo turned, staring down at the outfit the stranger had given her. Sweetie Belle would know where all this goes. She perched the light on the ground beside her, then took the bundle and stood up. It wasn’t anything like she felt as a pony. Her whole body listed to one side, and she only just caught herself on the wall before tumbling. The best she could manage. The soft little pieces went on first, causing her more struggle. At least the creatures had some way of dealing with all the extra weight on top. She’d worn skirts a few times, even if they weren’t her favorite, so she knew how to put that on. She was fairly certain she did the top upside-down once before realizing from the size of the holes how it was meant to go. Unfortunately for her, it clearly hadn’t been made for the oversized wings sprouting from her back. Her feathers jostled and strained against the cloth, but it held. Maybe I can ask for a pegasus shirt. On the bottom were the strangest things: shoes. She lifted one in hand, feeling the strange material. Soft and flexible, obviously meant to wrap around her feet. The idea of horseshoes already gave her nightmares, and these things felt much weaker. The more of it she put on, the more confident she felt. It didn’t fit as securely as anything Rarity might’ve made for her, but it seemed to belong. Scootaloo had balanced on her hindlegs before, and often. She’d used the stance whenever riding on her scooter, using her wings to push her. But the scooter’s own weight made that possible, giving her something secure to lean on.  But as she stood, she found the body almost seemed to know what it was doing on its own. Her spine wanted to be straight, and her single set of legs settled under her. If anything, it felt a little like flying, letting her momentum carry her from one gradual forward step into the next.  Finally she reached the door, still holding the strange creature’s flashlight. “Hey, uh… I think I’m finished? Though I’m not a fan of what it does to my wings. And realistically, I’d like it better if you just changed me back.” The door opened, and there was the creature leaning against the frame. Shorter than Scootaloo now that she knew how to stand. She still seemed embarrassed, but the sensation was harder to spot. Somehow her strangeness made her look cuter. A little nub of a nose, big blue eyes, and a mischievous grin that she’d probably taken on all kinds of adventures before today. “You can dress yourself, that’s good.” She snatched the flashlight from Scootaloo, tucking it away into her patchwork outfit. Then she opened the door wide, showing Scootaloo what lurked beyond. “I don’t have much, but me casa es tu casa. Survivors should stick together, even if I… blasted you.” Just past her was a camp of sorts, secure enough to suggest that she’d been here for some time. There was a little fire burning, and a tent, and a few large bags of supplies.  She gestured towards the circle of rubble around the fire, settling down onto one of the stumps. “I guess this is where I try and figure out how you got into the Irkalla. I haven’t seen anyone else down here in so long.” The heat of the fire was so welcoming, a gentle warmth that surrounded her as she approached. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was a little lost, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of where this is. The Everfree forest. And this is the Castle of the Two Sisters.” She wobbled over towards a broken chair by one side, one that looked tall enough to support her oversized body. She wrapped her spidery digits around the outside, then held on tight as she settled into place. She squirmed and struggled, not really fitting in the chair. The stranger giggled, voice light and friendly. “That’s not how you sit. You can’t sit like a… whatever you were.” She moved past her, pulling over the other chair and flopping into it, letting her legs dangle in front while her back remained straight behind her. “See? You’re gonna throw your back out contorting like that.” Scootaloo moved to imitate her, pushing back with her legs and trying to rise into a standing position. Something snapped, and the old wood collapsed under her, spilling her to the dirty floor with her oversized legs splayed. Now this was a feeling she knew well—feeling vulnerable and stupid in front of someone pretty. Here would come the laughter. “Here,” she felt a hand on her shoulder, and another one on one of her legs. “Like this. Fuck if I’d know what to do with the wrong number of legs. Just get your back straight and sit up, and… it should be easier to move from there.” Scootaloo nodded, and almost cried again. She shifted uncomfortably, as her wings strained against the shirt. “You don’t have any clothes for a pegasus, do you? My back is already sweaty as buck like this.” “Do I…” her eyes narrowed, and she pushed on the fabric with one hand. “I thought you might have a Hunchback of Notre-Dame thing going on. But I’d rather go for angel anyway. Much cuter.” She reached down her belt, removing something metal in one hand. A complex, interlocking knife, which she flipped out to reveal a blade. “I’ll cut the shirt, hold still.” Scootaloo froze, entirely out of fear. It wasn’t that the smudges on her face made her seem rugged and brave, or that she’d somehow found a way to make a skirt look graceful and confident. Nothing like that. She probed with two fingers, feeling along the edges of Scootaloo’s wings for where they joined her back. A little like what Rarity might’ve done if she were in this position, though with far less delicacy. “We’ll need to cut here and… here.” She brought down the knife, then again. Scootaloo expected something to slice into her wings by accident, or stick her in the neck, but the stranger was careful.  Then she felt paws on her wings, cool against the warmth that had been there moments before, guiding them through the cloth one at a time. “There, how’s that? Comfortable?” She spread her wings reflexively, though she managed to keep them from buzzing. They felt so… big, compared to what she was used to. It wasn’t hard for them to seem big when her body felt so thin and fragile. “Better,” she admitted. “Though I’d really rather you just fix me. Then I can help, uh… guide you to Equestria. I assume a wizard hiding in the ruins is probably looking to meet with Princess Twilight, right? You’ll be an ambassador from another realm or whatever.” “That would be great,” the creature said. “If it was possible. But I don’t think that’s how it works.” She sat back down, returning an old pan to the fire. “I’m sorry you ended up in here. Irkalla is awful and I don’t know if there is a way out. We can go from one section to another, from one danger to another. But not back.” “Let’s… I think we’re going too fast,” Scootaloo said, settling reluctantly on one of the old stumps. “I’m Scootaloo. How about you start by changing me back into a pegasus? I can’t go back like this.” She stretched out one of her forelegs for emphasis. “These paws are so delicate! I’ll break them for sure.” “Hands,” the girl corrected. “I’m Emily, and your nickname is adorable.” Scootaloo blushed, but folded her forelegs to glare. She wasn’t going to look away until the mage-creature explained how she was going to fix her. After a few nervous moments of shifting in her seat, Emily said. “I, uh… And my magical skills aren’t… really all that impressive.”  She stirred whatever she was cooking, probably just for an excuse to look away from Scootaloo. “I didn’t have much magic at all before I came here, actually. Blood of Atlantis, they said. Bloody useless, I say. My big brother gets all the magic and all I can do is balance a checkbook. Ever heard of a magical accountant?” “You changed me into a…” “Human,” Emily finished. “And yeah, sorta. But I don’t really know how I do it. My magic is like a… nervous reaction. It sorta comes out when it wants.”  “Well use it again,” Scootaloo said, exasperated. “Just point it at me like before. It can’t be that hard.” “No, but…” she winced. “I don’t really have any way of controlling it. You came running at me, and I felt like I was in danger, and I reacted. That’s all.” “Oh.” Scootaloo fell silent, and stayed that way for several thoughtful minutes. “I guess we’ll have to talk to the princess then. If anyone can fix a magical mistake like this, it would be her.” “Sure,” Emily said. “If you know the way out of here… I don’t care how many fairytale princess and magical unicorns it takes. I just don’t think there’s a way out.” “Nonsense.” Scootaloo rose to her feet, wobbling a little as she did so. But her wings spread, and at least that was enough to help her maintain her balance. “Maybe you were stuck before, but now you’ve got me! I’ll get us out.”  “You’re my angel, huh?” Emily tilted her head slightly to the side. “Well, you’re pretty enough. Maybe you’re right. Just let me finish eating, then we’ll break camp. You don’t mind helping me carry things, do you? Good.” “I never…” But she didn’t argue. She wasn’t quite sure what Emily had meant, but it had seemed like a compliment. Why couldn’t I be as brave as you back in Equestria? Emily took everything apart with fluid gestures, like something she’d done hundreds of times. All her camp furniture went into a heavy pack and a smaller bag with rugged wheels, which she offered to Scootaloo.  “I’ve been here for too long anyway,” Emily said. “Either you can lead me out of the Irkalla at last, or…” she shook her head. “At least you’re easy on the eyes.” Scootaloo’s wings folded to her back, and she almost dropped the bag. “You’re just… you’re just gonna talk like that?” “Yeah?” Emily tossed the flashlight up and down in her fingers. “It’s called flirting, and I haven’t had another living soul to try it on for…” she glanced down at her fingers, counting off for a bit. “Uh… forever. Let’s just go with forever.” Is it weird if I think she’s pretty? Scootaloo took the lead, back the way she’d came. She wouldn’t call what she was doing a proper canter, or even a trot. But she watched Emily move a bit, and tried to imitate her. Instead of using her second set of limbs, she swung them, did her best to ignore the other things that swung, and occasionally caught herself on the wall for support. After only a short time, the metal wall transformed into stone, lit with strange strings of orange and white lights. Little paper lanterns hug at odd intervals, each one with a silly pumpkin face grinning at her. A little like Nightmare Night decorations, but much larger than most ponies would’ve used. She stopped at the top of the stairs, settling the bag down on the ground in front of her. But that much weight made her start to stumble forward. She probably would’ve faceplanted if Emily didn’t catch her arm with one of hers. “Watch it, horse girl. Don’t to break your nose down here.” Those hands were strange to feel against her, warm an delicate in a way no hoof had ever been. Probably lots of things you could do with one of those. But she couldn’t let herself get distracted by her companion now. “We should’ve been out by now.” “Yep,” Emily leaned casually on the wall beside her. “That’s how it is. You can trust the world about as far as you can hear. A hundred meters on, then… God only knows.” Scootaloo slumped forward, yanking one of the nightmare night lanterns off the wall and crumpling it in her fingers. “What is Irkalla?” “Even that’s a guess.” Emily lowered her voice, resting one hand on Scootaloo’s shoulder sympathetically. “I’ve heard it called other things before. Limbo. The Backrooms. The Atherium. It connects places. The lignin of the universe. But the universe is infected, and so there are holes. Sometimes you slip through.” Sometimes ponies don’t come back. Scootaloo whimpered, and almost started crying all over again. She probably would have, if the creature beside her wasn’t so pretty. She couldn’t look weak in front of her. Her wings opened behind her, and she reached sideways to catch one in her hand. A few orange feathers came free in her grip, trailing little bits of fluff. Preening these is gonna be even worse now. “How do we slip out?” Emily shrugged. “You wouldn’t have found me here if I knew the way out.” “Oh.” Scootaloo dropped to the ground. Her legs just sorta caved in, and she ended up resting on her knees, in a way that probably would’ve broken something as a pony. But she didn’t fall over—so long as she kept her back straight, these bodies were pretty stable. She started to whimper, then cry. Even her voice was different, lower than she remembered. Her body was confusing, she was hopelessly lost, now without any clue of how she’d get home. She wasn’t sure how long passed there in the dark, until she felt something wrap around her. A soft arm, and suddenly Emily was embracing her. It wasn’t quite the way she expected a hug to feel, but she still recognized the gesture. Some things were universal. “Hey, Scootaloo. I know how awful this seems… but you’re not alone, okay?” She was still crying—but only for a few more seconds. She sniffed, wiped her eyes on Emily’s sleeve, then nodded. “Y-yeah. You’re right. It’s… it could be worse. I just… I wish I could go home.” “Me too.”