Someone Still Loves You

by brokenimage321


42. Disaster

Rainbow stumbled into the darkened living room, clumsily tying the knot on her robe. 

“Coming,” she croaked.

And yet, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent. 

Rainbow grumbled darkly to herself, then grabbed the door and pulled it open. 

“Do you know what time it is?” she growled, as she rubbed at one eye. 

The pegasus colt on her porch looked skeptically up at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You don’t look so good…”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Late night.”

It had been. She’d stayed up past eleven helping Scootaloo with a school project, then had taken her for a midnight run to Barnyard Bargains for a tub of ice cream. A year ago, she would have laughed at a pony like herself, stuck watching some dumb kid all night instead of partying—but, back then, she hadn’t known how much better it felt to wake up with a foal in your arms than with an ache in your head. 

“What do you want, anyways?” she snarled. 

The little colt straightened up. 

“Storm’s coming in,” He said, his tiny voice adopting an official-sounding clip. “Out of the Everfree. Weather Captain Thunderbolt has issued an All-Hooves order. Come as you are.”

And with that, he turned and spread his wings. He had almost leapt off the cloudominium before Rainbow’s brain had finally caught up with her body. 

“Wait,” she said, stamping a hoof down on his tail. “He’s done a what?” 

The colt looked back over his shoulder. “He’s issued an All-Hooves order. It’s a weather emergency, so every able-bodied pegasus is required to help out.”

Rainbow frowned. “He can’t do that, though,” she said. “I would know. I was Weather Captain for a while.”

“ ‘Course he can,” he snapped, pulling his tail free. “It’s in the regulations.”

Rainbow bit her lip. She wanted to argue, but she hadn’t ever actually gotten around to reading the things…

“Anyways,” the colt continued, “get to Town Hall ASAP.”

He leapt off the cloud and glided away, winging his way towards some other poor sap’s house. 

Actually—Rainbow squinted—he wasn’t the only one flying around. In the middle distance, a group of little pegasus-shaped specks were darting between a number of the houses in Ponyville, both grounded and airborne. And, already, she could see a bunch of pegasi fluttering anxiously over Town Hall. 

Rainbow squinted suspiciously, then stepped a little further out on her porch and turned towards the forest. As she looked, her eyes grew wide, and she stood, frozen, for a long moment. 

Then, suddenly, she turned and ran back into her home. 

“Scoo-ta-LOO!” she shrieked as she dashed into the kitchen. “Get up, right now! It’s an emergency!” 

Rainbow threw open one of her kitchen cupboards, then reached into the very back. She yanked a cardboard box free, showering her kitchen in granola bars and half-empty cereal boxes, then slammed it on the counter. The box was dusty and faded, but had once been colorful, printed with the image of an entirely-too-cheerful pegasus holding a sign that read Flyer’s Feast! Rainbow tore the box open, then pulled out one of the foil-wrapped packages and ripped it open with her teeth. Inside was a small, pale-yellow bar, the texture of wet cornmeal. Rainbow shoved half the thing in her mouth and started chewing. 

Protein, carbs, salt, sugar, and caffeine. Everything a pegasus needed for long-distance flying. Flyer’s Feast had them all in spades. Of course, it tasted like cardboard and tended to make you constipated, give you diarrhea, or both, but Rainbow didn’t have the time to be choosy. She swallowed her first massive bite, shoved the remainder in her mouth, and tore open another bar. 

Scootaloo stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing one eye, just as Rainbow was washing down her third Feast with the cold dregs left in the coffeepot from the night before. She sucked the pot dry, she tossed it unceremoniously into the sink, then opened another cabinet and pulled out three pill bottles. 

“What’s happening?” Scootaloo asked, still rubbing her eye.

“Can’t talk, Squirt,” Rainbow said. She dumped the three bottles—aspirin, caffeine pills, and salt tablets—into a pouch with three zippered compartments. “Weather emergency.”

Scootaloo blinked slowly, then yawned. “But you’re not Weather Patrol any more,” she said. “I thought you didn’t need to worry—”

“This time I do,” she said, clipping the bag onto a lanyard and securing it around her neck. “Got a nasty supercell forming over the Everfree—and it looks like it’s gonna start sprouting tornadoes soon.” She nodded at one of the windows in the living room. “Worse, it looks like it has some sort of magic mixed up in it,” she added.

Scootaloo trotted over to the window and peered out, then almost cried aloud in fear. Black, ugly clouds had gathered over the forest in the distance—and they were starting to swirl, faster and faster, in a circle. As Scootaloo watched, a bolt of lightning flashed through the clouds, lighting the earth below in unnatural greens, blues, and pinks. 

Scootaloo turned around to see Rainbow digging in a closet, throwing coats over her shoulder willy-nilly. She finally surfaced with a clear plastic windbreaker and a yellow spray-bottle. She tossed the bottle at Scootaloo—it went wide, and Scootaloo had to scramble after it—then threw on the windbreaker.

“What are you doing?” Scootaloo asked, trotting back to her with the bottle. 

Rainbow zipped the windbreaker up to her chin, then stuck her wings through the cut-outs. “Gonna go fight the thing,” she said. “Here, spray that on my wings,” she said, holding them spread-eagled.

Scootaloo glanced at the label on the bottle, but her vision was too blurry to read it. “What is this stuff, anyway?” she asked.

“Weatherproofing,” Rainbow replied. She flapped her wings impatiently. “C’mon, storm’s brewin’.”

Scootaloo sprayed the bottle on Rainbows wings, first one, then the other. Rainbow flapped them once or twice (spraying Scootaloo with more than a little of the foul-smelling liquid as she did), then nodded in satisfaction. She patted herself down one more time, then turned to Scootaloo, grabbed her, and brought her in for a hug.

“You’ll be safe here,” Rainbow said. “The house will ride up and over the low-pressure system like a cork. If the storm gets close, lock yourself in a closet. You might get knocked around a bit, but the cloud walls will keep you from getting seriously hurt if things go sideways.”

Scootaloo reflexively tried to push away, but Rainbow held her tight. 

“No matter what,” Rainbow said, looking into her eyes. “Stay here. This house is the safest place in Ponyville right now. Promise me that?”

Scootaloo squirmed. “Yeah, sure,” she said. 

“Promise me, Scootaloo,” Rainbow insisted, still holding her tight.

Scootaloo looked guiltily up at her. 

“I promise,” she said. 

Rainbow nodded, then kissed her on the head. 

“Love ya, Squirt,” she said. 

“Love ya, too,” Scootaloo replied. 

Rainbow kissed her on the forehead again, then turned and strode to the front door. She pulled it open and stepped out onto the porch. For just a moment, Scootaloo watched her standing there, her coat and tail flapping in the growing wind—and then, she leapt into the unknown.

* * *

Rainbow zipped up to Town Hall just as the first, fat raindrops started to fall. She could barely see the roof due to all the pegasi gathered on and around it, but she wasn’t aiming for the roof, anyways. She flew up and over the crowd, and, as she did, she gave them all a scrutinizing glance. Very few of them had any sort of proper weather gear, even a jacket to keep their coats from getting soaked. A few of the younger ones even had umbrellas, the poor foals. 

Rainbow finally spotted Thunderlane, standing at the very peak of the roof, holding onto the weathervane for balance. She dropped down beside him, scattering a few of the waiting pegasi.

“What’s happening, Cap’n?” she asked. 

“Magi-cell,” he said, nodding over his shoulder at the forest. “Big one.”

She nodded. “Where’d it come from?” she asked. “Thought you were keeping an eye on anything that could turn nasty.”

“We were,” he said with a groan. “But, early this morning, two smaller cells collided. They were supposed to cancel each other out, but instead, they blended together. And now—”

A crack of lightning from the Everfree split the air. A few of the waiting pegasi shrieked. Thunderlane bit his lip, then looked hopelessly out at the crowd. 

Rainbow took a deep breath. 

“Anything special in the briefing, Captain?” she asked. 

Thunderlane looked quizzically at her. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I mean,” she replied, “I’ve been doin’ this job longer than you have, and I know all the procedures back to front. Standard box-and-bust operation?” she asked. 

Thunderlane stared blankly back at her. Rainbow rolled her eyes.

“Box in the storm over the forest, if possible,” she explained, “bust up any dangerous clouds headed towards Ponyville. Box-and-bust.

Thunderlane brightened.

“Sounds about right,” he said. “But if that storm sprouts a twister, then all bets are off.”

“Got it,” Rainbow said. She glanced over at the storm, growing bigger and darker by the moment. “Someone needs to get on that storm, now,” she said to Thunderlane. “Do you mind?”

“Go for it,” Thunderlane said, distracted. 

Rainbow nodded, then shot up in the air. 

“Alright, everypony!” she bellowed to the waiting crowd. “Anyone who’s done a stint in the Weather Patrol, eyes up! We’re gonna head out first and keep a lid on this thing while Thunderlane gets the others ready. I’ll explain the plan on the way. Who’s with me?”

A ragged half-cheer rose up from the waiting crowd, and several pegasi took wing. Rainbow shot a salute at Thunderlane, who stared back at her in stupefied amazement—and then, she turned and shot towards the storm.

* * *

“Meadow! Left flank!”

There is a common misconception that pegasi create the weather. 

“Gulfstream, watch out—”

KRACK-THOOM

To be fair, they often do. The Weather Factory has churned out its fair share of storms, usually to help water crops or put out forest fires. 

“Barrel roll! Now!”

But on the whole, pegasi don’t actually create the weather. Instead, they tame the weather that already exists, bending the natural processes to the needs of the lands below. 

“No! Nonono—!”

If pegasi did create the weather, then there was no way in Tartarus they would have dreamed up a monster like this

The storm was too big to be bucked away. Something this violent couldn’t even be reined in. The storm had something of the Everfree at its heart—something wild and free, strong as an oak, deadly as a timberwolf. A miracle of a storm—a miracle, or a nightmare.

The Umbrella Patrol had fallen away long ago, retreating to the edge of the storm to try to keep it at bay. The shopkeepers, the commuters, and the casuals had retreated too. The only pegasi that remained were the messengers, the marathoners, and the Weather Patrol. Those who made their living on the wing. The hard, sharp core of pegasi standing between their homes and the cataclysm before them. 

Any sense of a plan had vanished in the storm. All that remained was reflex and instinct. Keep yourself alive, help others if you can, look for a weakness. Any room for subtlety had disappeared with the last rays of the sun, choked out by the storm. There was no saving this one. No redirection of wind, no salvaging of rain. It was a fight to the death: stop the storm, or perish. 

Rainbow grinned manically, water streaming down her face. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

She had lost her windbreaker long ago, torn free by the wind and tossed who-knows-where. Her coat, heavy with rain, dragged her down. But her wings were dry, and her head was clear. And the storm was still bearing down on Ponyville

Somehow, she sensed the gust before it hit her, and let her Wonderbolt training take over. She twisted her body, sliding just past the gale, feeling the turbulent air blow her mane. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blast of wind take down Meadowsweet, sending her cartwheeling away like a paper doll. Poor kid. 

Rainbow scanned the sky, counting a dozen colored dots against the slate-gray clouds. Not enough—but maybe—

And then, Rainbow’s feathers started to tingle. Reflexively, she pinned back her wings and dropped into a shallow dive, slashing down through the wind and the rain. Behind her, a crash of lightning split the sky open, shattering the landscape below. Rainbow glanced behind her—and her eyes widened. Up above, lit by the blue and purple of the lighting flashes, the clouds were beginning to turn and swirl. And in the center, the wind howling like a wounded animal, a black funnel cloud was beginning to gather. 

Rainbow looked forward again, yelped, and banked her wings. She had nearly crashed into a colt that was still, somehow, in the air. She scowled at him—and then noticed who it was. 

Rumble. 

The little turd was obviously panicking. And why wouldn’t he? Dozens of adults had been taken down by this monster. He’d probably ignored orders and flown out here himself, just to try and snag some of the glory for his own—

Another lightning bolt seared past them. Rumble shrieked and jerked back—the colt was positively shaking, now. He looked around, then turned to look at Rainbow, and—

Rainbow growled in frustration, then shot towards him. Rumble was wearing flight goggles, but it looked like no one had taught him how to keep them from fogging up. No wonder he’d almost run into her—he could barely see, given how cloudy the lenses were. The poor colt was stuck in the worst storm in a century, wet, cold, alone, and blind. Rainbow ripped his goggles free, flipped them over, and spat on the inside of both lenses.

If Rumble objected, he was too scared to speak up.

Rainbow swished the goggles around, making sure the lenses were good and coated in her spit. She held them still for a moment, letting them fill with rainwater, then poured them out. She handed them back to Rumble, who looked at them like she had given him a dead bird.

“Put them on,” she roared. “They’ll—”

She didn’t even have to finish the sentence before she knew it was no use. The wind had picked up, tearing the words from her throat almost before she’d had a chance to say them. She growled to herself, then mimed pulling a pair of goggles over her head. Rumble eyed her uncertainly, then pulled on his goggles. He blinked once or twice, then turned and stared up at her in wonder, his goggles clear. 

Rainbow smiled to herself—but another crash of lightning made her turn and look. The funnel cloud was getting bigger. If they waited any longer, it would soon be too big to handle. 

She turned back to Rumble, then started miming urgently. She poked him in the chest—you—then swept her arm, taking in all the other struggling pegasi—round up the others—and finally, pointed back at the forming funnel—to help with that. She moved one forehoof in a circle, then clopped her other hoof to it and started moving it in the opposite direction. Try a wind brake maneuver, moving opposite of the spin.

Rumble furrowed his brow, but nodded in determination. He repeated Rainbow’s gesture, showing he understood. 

Quick learner, Rainbow thought. Looks like they’re doing something right in the Deputy Weather Patrol.

But then, Rumble reached out and poked her firmly in the chest, then stared into her eyes. It took Rainbow a moment, but she got it. 

He was asking her a question. What are you going to do? 

Rainbow tapped herself on the chest, then pointed back at the funnel. 

I’m going to handle it. 

Alone.

Rumble’s eyes widened, but, before he could object, his gaze slid over Rainbow’s shoulder. Rainbow turned and looked, and very nearly gasped in horror. The funnel cloud was nearly complete. They had, at most, seconds before it touched down. 

Rainbow spun back around, then pointed emphatically at the other ponies.

Go! she practically screamed. We don’t have time! 

Rumble nodded and zipped off. Rainbow banked her wings, turned, and shot towards the funnel cloud. 

Things were happening fast—too fast—but that’s what you get for tangling with an Everfree storm. If she let the tornado touch down, it would tear through Ponyville like tissue paper. Somepony needed to keep a handle on it while Rumble gathered the reinforcements. Someone needed to bleed it of its energy, slow it down, even by a fraction. Anything to win them precious seconds. And Rainbow was the best pony for the job. The only pony.

There was no ego in the thought. She was the most experienced Weatherpony in Ponyville, regardless of the fact she’d quit months ago. She was the fastest flier, too—the best to break the funnel for the others. And she was a Wonderbolt, to boot—she had all the training to fly into the teeth of the storm. 

Rainbow shot forward, towards the funnel, deaf to all but the roaring wind in her ears. The rain soaked her to the bone even as she sliced through it. And, above and beyond all, the funnel loomed, dark and heavy, before her. 

Rainbow drew closer—close enough to feel the gale that whipped around it. She banked her wings and turned into the wind. She braced herself, flapped her wings, and—

Rainbow had noticed, whenever she was in front of a crowd with the Wonderbolts, that all her anxiety fell away. There was nothing left but herself and her teammates—not the roar of the crowd, the heat of the sun, or the chill of the air. In some ways, it felt like her body took over for her brain, relying more on instinct and muscle memory than conscious thought. Her pegasus muscles and her daredevil spirit just knew what to do, without Rainbow even telling them. And there was something deeper there, too—something driving her onward. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps it was stubbornness, but a raging furnace burned inside her, driving her on. Forcing her to overcome. To win.

In the splinter of a second before she hit the tornado, she felt that same peace. 

Rainbow slammed into the funnel cloud. It caught her and tossed her away like a used tissue. Rainbow flared her wings, stopping her tumble, growled, then shot forward again. This time, she moved with the spin of the funnel. She felt the cloud trying to suck her in, to take her and throw her away again, but this time, she turned and dove in. She passed through the hard wall of the cloud into the roaring interior, feeling the thrill as it swept her along, a salmon in the stream.

But salmon don’t swim with the flow. 

Rainbow braced herself, then twisted her right wing so it stood vertical. The wind caught the surface and spun her around like a top—but Rainbow braked at just the right moment. She was now being swept backwards, but was facing into the wind. She set her jaw, then began flapping anew. 

It was something every pegasus learned on their first day in Flight Camp: don’t fly into a headwind, if you can avoid it. You’ll have to fight it, your strength against nature’s, and few ponies could hope to win that contest. Rainbow had always known this. 

But here he was, a lone pegasus fighting the biggest storm Ponyville had seen in decades. And she could not lose. 

But the storm was powerful. Perhaps too powerful

At first, it barely acknowledged her presence. Even flapping her hardest, Rainbow was still pushed backwards along its course. 

But the fire in Rainbow’s chest grew hotter. Her anger and determination leaped higher. And Rainbow put her head down and pumped her wings. 

Slowly, she began to fight back. Slowly, her backwards flight slowed, until she hung motionless in the air. And then, slow as a glacier, she began to pull forward. 

Rainbow cried aloud for joy—just as the gale started to shift.

It has always been said that the Everfree has a mind of its own. The same could apparently be said for the storms that drew power from its heart. 

The funnel warped and buckled, altering the trajectory of its own wind. A great, coursing gale slammed into Rainbow from above, as hard and solid as if it had been a brick wall. Rainbow screamed in pain—a scream that the wind, laughing, snatched from her throat—and she began to tumble, deeper into the maw of the funnel.

As Rainbow plummeted through the air, time seemed to slow to a crawl. She knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that she could not pull out of her fall. Her head and shoulders ached, her head spun, and her wings burned like they had been broken in a dozen places. She was going to crash into the ground at near-terminal velocity, and she would die. 

Strangely, there was peace in that thought. Rainbow had much to live for, of course. But she had given everything she had—and, through no fault of her own, it was not enough. She would be remembered as a martyr, one who had challenged the storm and lost. There would be a statue with a plaque Maybe even a holiday, if she was lucky. If she had to die, this would be a good death. 

All except for the fact that—

At the half-finished thought, the furnace in her chest glowed cherry-red, its flames shooting out the gaps in the doors and the chimney. It would be a good death—but hers would not be the only one. Without her, ponies would suffer and die. 

This wasn’t a fight for glory and fame. If it were, she would have given up already. 

It was a fight for Ponyville. 

It was a fight for Home.

It was a fight for Scootaloo.

Rainbow roared in defiance, then flared her wings. And, though they ached in every joint, they held. She lurched to a halt, then, flapping with all her might, she rose into the air again—rose again to challenge the storm. 

She was one pony, yes. But she. Would. Win. The storm would throw her down, but she would get back up, every time, until the storm broke on her like water on a stone. 

She dove back into the gale, flapping with aching wings, and, again, slowed to a crawl. She pushed herself harder, and, slowly, began to pull ahead. She beat back against the storm with her own body, was leaching energy from the gale as she did.

But the storm had one more trick up its sleeve. 

The hairs on the back of Rainbow’s neck, though soaked through with water, began to stand on end. The strands of her mane began to stand up. And the tips of her feathers started to tingle. 

Rainbow’s eyes widened, and she looked frantically around. No, she thought desperately, not another lightning strike—

And then, she saw it—up above the funnel cloud, where no cloud could naturally form, a black pucker of clouds was drawing together. Its interior sparked with purple-blue electricity, electricity aimed directly at her. From the size of the cloud, she knew, this would be no passing spark, like the lightning she pranked others with. No, she had provoked the wrath of the storm, and whatever magic lay in it was tired of toying with her. This would be the hammer of an angry god, a pillar of fire from heaven, the sort that would strike her dead and leave nothing to bury. And there was nowhere to go—she was in too deep. She could not dodge the bolt, not without forcing her way out of the funnel. And even if she managed to survive that, the storm would only grow greater.

Rainbow squeezed her eyes shut, whispering a prayer to Celestia—

And then, she heard a high, piercing howl that sliced through the wind. She looked up just in time to see a silver-gray streak shoot straight through the wall of the funnel, into the heart of the gathering thundercloud. The cloud exploded, shooting arcs of electricity in all directions, and the hatred of the storm was shattered. 

And Rainbow saw, emerging from the depths of the cloud, the last pony she would have ever expected to see:

Rumble. 

His coat was scorched, and his mane stuck up in odd places, but there was no mistaking him. He coughed once, exhaling a small cloud of smoke, then looked down at her. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second—and yet, that was enough. Rainbow saw his conflicted triumph: the adrenaline exultation at his victory against the storm, however small—and yet, the knowledge that he had saved the one pony who, just that morning, he hated most in the world. And Rumble, in return, saw her desperate gratitude, tinged with awe: she would have died without help, and she was grateful for it--despite the fact it had come from him.

The moment ended. And the two of them, together, nodded in determination. They had a score to settle, yes. But there were greater stakes than a petty rivalry, now. 

And then, out of the corner of her eye, Rainbow saw a flash of electric-blue. She flinched, until she saw that it was no lightning bolt—It was Thunderlane, his mane and tail slicked to his body, his coat nearly black with rain. He fell into the tornado beside her, adding his strength to hers, as the two of them fought the storm together. 

And then another—and another—and another—

And soon, every pony that had not been broken by the storm had joined them, all of them flying with all the strength they had, all of them working together to battle the gale. 

And slowly, ever so slowly, the storm began to give way. 

When the funnel broke, it took Rainbow by surprise. She careened unsteadily away, then half-fell, half-glided, to the ground below. She landed on her hooves—just barely—but her legs couldn’t hold her weight. She collapsed into the mud, the rain still pelting down around her, and closed her eyes.

She heard a splash in the mud beside her.

“Did you see that!?” Rumble said excitedly. “We did it! We beat that storm!”

“Yeah,” Rainbow sighed. “Yeah, we did…”

Rumble hesitated. “Miss Dash?” he said. “You okay?

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah,” she repeated. “Yeah, just give me a minute…”

* * *

With the funnel cloud gone, the strength went out of the storm. It was a few hours’ work for the remaining weatherponies to round up the clouds and drive them back over the Everfree, where they broke apart and dissipated their magic on their own. 

It took a couple hours longer for the medics to round up the injured. Rainbow was one of the first they treated. Not because she needed it—there were others far worse off—but because Rumble practically dragged Nurse Redheart over to where she lay. After a cursory examination, Redheart determined all Rainbow needed was a few of the painkillers from the pouch that, somehow, still hung around her neck—though she should probably come in next week for a full examination, just to be sure. 

When Rainbow stepped out of the medical tent, she found Rumble, his coat and mane still spiky from a fresh toweling-off, waiting for her. 

Her first instinct was to scowl at him—but she buried that instinct, buried it deep, in exchange for a smile. 

“Hey, Kid,” she said, tousling his mane. “You did good out there.”

Rumble jerked his hooves up, pushing hers away, but the action was simple reflex, with no malice in it. 

“Thanks,” he said. “You did good too, Miss Dash.”

She shook her head. “Call me Rainbow,” she said. 

His eyes widened slightly—in surprise or apprehension, she couldn’t tell—but either way, he nodded. 

“I will—Rainbow,” he said. 

The two of them stood there, in awkward silence, until Rainbow shifted her hooves uneasily. 

“Hey,” she said, “You wanna come by for ice cream, or something?”

Rumble looked at her in surprise. “Huh?” he asked stupidly. 

“C’mon, I owe you one,” she said. “Besides, I bet Scootaloo will want to see you, too.”

Rumble gave a little smile, though he quickly stifled it. Instead, he just nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said meekly.

“Oh, come on,” Rainbow replied, gently slugging him in the shoulder. “It’s Rainbow. Don’t go making me feel old or anything…”

Rumble rubbed his shoulder where she’d punched him, then gave her a timid smile. 

Rainbow returned the grin, then nodded at Thunderlane, where he stood in the distance. “Now, why don’t you go ask your brother if you can come over, and we’ll fly out together.”

Rumble reared up in excitement, then dashed off. It wasn’t long before he dashed right back, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face.  

“He said I could come over!” he cried joyously. Without waiting for a response, he leapt into the air, and began to wing his way towards Rainbow’s Cloudominium.

“Hey,” Rainbow laughed, taking off after him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

It took Rainbow a few moments to work out the stiffness in her wings, but even so, it didn’t take her long to catch up with Rumble. The flight was too short for any sort of conversation, but still, Rumble wove back and forth as he flew beside Rainbow, even pulling a few rolls for her benefit. 

As they drew close to the house, Rainbow frowned. It was starting to get dark already, but all the lights were still off. Rumble looked at Rainbow, concerned, but she just shook her head. Don’t worry about it.

Rainbow landed on her front porch, then pushed the door open. “Scootaloo?” she called. “Come on out, Rumble’s here to see you!”

Rumble trotted through the open door and into the darkened living room. He looked around, confused. 

“Don’t worry,” Rainbow assured him, “she’s probably in her room. I’ll go get her.”

Rainbow padded her way deeper into the eerily silent house, towards Scootaloo’s door. She could tell, as soon as she rounded the corner, that if Scootaloo was in her room, she was sitting in the dark. Not even the glint of a lamp shone under the door. 

Rainbow put her hoof on the doorknob, then swallowed nervously. She pushed the door open and poked her head inside. 

“Scootaloo? Honey?” she said. “You in here?”

As Rainbow’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw, one by one, the desk, it’s chair empty; the rug, strewn with abandoned books and toys; and the bed, blankets lying where they had been thrown that morning. 

Rainbow’s gut twisted in a painful knot.

“Uh…” she said to herself.

“Um… Miss Dash?” Rumble said 

Rainbow jumped, then backed out of the door. 

“I told you,” her tone shaky and brittle, “call me Rainbow—”

Her sentence died on her lips as she saw him.

Rumble stood at the end of the hallway, his eyes wide and his face pale. In his mouth, he held a sheaf of papers.

Rainbow flapped her wings and surged forward. She snatched the papers from him, then began to flip through them.

“They were on the kitchen table,” he volunteered.

Rainbow flipped back to the front page. It took her a second to recognize it: it was an adoption application. Scootaloo’s adoption application. She should have recognized it earlier—she’d spent weeks on the thing. And, right on the front page, glaring at her from off the page in crimson ink, was a single rubber-stamped word: 

DENIED.

“What does that mean?” Rumble asked. 

Rainbow flipped through the packet again, and found one more sheet, at the very back of the stack. The paper was thicker, and nicer, and felt official, somehow. 

Rainbow frowned, then turned and walked back towards the kitchen. Rumble ran ahead and helpfully flipped on the lights in the dining room, just as Rainbow laid down the letter and spread it out. Both of them read:

Dear Ms. Dash:

We at the Department of Foalhood Services thank you for the quality care you have shown to Scootaloo, the ward of the state that is in your charge. We are pleased to inform you that we have received an application for her adoption from a loving family, and have accepted said application. A DFS representative will visit soon to make final arrangements. Expect them to arrive on—

“Today,” Rumble said quietly. 

Rainbow drew in a shaky breath. 

“Fuck,” she hissed.