Scootaloo let out a long, slow sigh, adjusted her sunglasses, and settled a little deeper into her lounge chair. The October sun was starting to dip towards the horizon, but was still bright enough to get some tanning in. She really should have been working on her homework—after all, their group project was due Monday, and Scootaloo had barely started her part of the essay—but hey, it was her birthday. It could wait until tomorrow.
She’d already had a party the night before. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had attended, as had Rumble and Featherweight. Even Button Mash, who was rarely home for more than a few days at a time anymore, had come. It wasn’t every day one of your best friends turned the Big One-Five, after all.
Truth be told, it had been a little more low-key than she had expected. Pizza, cake, and presents, then a movie and a board game or two, and that was it. Mom was there to supervise, after all, but Rumble still managed to sneak a kiss when Scootaloo walked him to the door. The plan had been to end the night with a girls-only sleepover, but Sweetie Belle excused herself just after Button Mash had left, and Apple Bloom thought, with just her and Scoots left, it might be better if she just went home. It worked out, though: Scootaloo had slept in until ten the next morning, as a little present to herself.
But today—her Birthday birthday—was special. Just a time for her and Mom. It had been that way ever since she’d been officially adopted. Sure, she’d grown a lot since then—fifteen-year-old Scoots had proved to be tall and slim, more leg than body, though her wings remained stubbornly small—but they’d kept the tradition, despite all the changes.
Part of the reason they’d kept it going was that Mom always had some cool, dramatic present for her. When she’d turned eleven, Mom revealed that she’d bought a house—an actual house—in Downtown Ponyville, and that Scoots would get to help her paint it however she wanted. When she turned twelve—the year her adoption finally went through—Mom showed her the plans for the Balcony, as they’d come to call it. They’d worked hard to tear off almost half the roof, then replace it with a wide, wooden platform, with rails all around. Perfect for a takeoff and landing pad, of course, but also for setting up a tent in the spring, a little wading pool in the summer, and plenty of nights spent in sleeping bags staring up at the stars. For her thirteenth birthday, Rainbow showed her a pile of plywood that eventually turned into a half-pipe, just for her, out on the edge of the woods, and at age fourteen, she’d casually mentioned that she’d somehow convinced Pony Hawke to show her how to use it properly (something something dinner with Spitfire, something something).
That was just as well. What with Rainbow having to sign on to the Weather Patrol as a fresh recruit, and pay all the adoption fees, and feeding a second mouth--to say nothing of buying the house--Rainbow’s financial situation was a great deal leaner than it once had been. Sometimes, Scootaloo felt a pang of jealousy for ponies like Diamond Tiara—who, if rumors were to be believed, would receive a brand-new carriage of her very own at her sixteenth birthday next month—but she relished these gifts of time and hard work when she got them. It was an opportunity to grow closer with her friends—usually Apple Bloom and her family, given AB’s head for construction projects—but it was also an opportunity to spend time with her Mom. Often, the two of them worked, side by side, talking and joking and laughing until late into the night.
She hadn’t grown up with a real Mom, after all. It just seemed right that, for her birthday, she got the gift of making up for lost time.
Scootaloo, on her lounge chair, gazed idly up into the sky, basking in the pleasant warmth of the sun—then sat up, lowered her glasses, and stared. High up in the stratosphere, a multicolored speck was growing larger and brighter as it fell towards her.
Scootaloo, with deliberate calm, stood, folded her glasses, tucked them under her wing—and ran for the shade of the overhanging eaves.
Rainbow fell so fast that the air around her whistled like an incoming dive-bomber. Scootaloo braced for the crash—but, at the last instant, Rainbow flared her wings, screeched to a halt, then landed, almost delicately, on the deck.
Scootaloo peered out from under her arms, then cracked a wide grin. “Nice,” she said.
“See?” Rainbow replied, swelling her chest, “I told you I could do it.”
Scootaloo ran up and hugged her. “Then why don’t you do it more often?” she asked.
Rainbow hugged her back, then kissed her on the head. “I want to make sure you know I’m home,” she said.
Rainbow had grown over the years, too. She had the build of an athlete, and could still outfly anyone in Ponyville. However, without a need to impress the Wonderbolts anymore, she had... relaxed a little. She had put on a few pounds here and there, which, if you asked Scootaloo, was actually a good thing. With that little bit of extra padding over her muscles, it no longer felt like she was cuddling a cinder block every night. She had changed in some other ways, too: she and Scoots always went to Sugarcube Corner for chocolate milkshakes every Friday, she bought doughnuts for her fellow weatherponies every payday, and the two of them had been experimenting for months now to find Equestria’s best chocolate chip cookie recipe—though, more often than not, they ended up burning them to a crisp.
“So,” Rainbow said, pulling away from her daughter, “ready for your present?”
Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “Present?” she repeated. “Singular?”
Rainbow rolled her eyes, then punched her gently on the shoulder. “You know what I mean,” she said. “Your big present. All the little junk can wait for after cake and stuff.”
Scootaloo responded by punching Rainbow in her shoulder. “I knew what you meant,” she said. “So, yeah, let’s go. I mean,” she added quickly, “unless you want to rest up or shower or something first?”
Rainbow shook her head, then blew her mane out of her face. “Nah,” she said. “I’m not that old. Besides, it’s something you should see in the daytime.”
Scootaloo grinned, then trotted over to the door that led deeper into the house, and pulled it open. She ran into her room—decorated, not with Wonderbolts posters, but ones of ponies skydiving, surfing, and skating—and dropped her sunglasses on the bedside table.
“Mom?” she called back over her shoulder. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just your sense of adventure,” Rainbow called back.
Scootaloo rolled her eyes again, then turned and trotted down to the front door, where Rainbow was already waiting. She held open the door for her daughter, then followed her out into the sunshine.
“Where we goin’?” Scootaloo asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” she said. “Just follow me.”
Rainbow set off through the crowd, and Scootaloo jogged up beside her. There was a time she would have ridden on Rainbow’s back, or walked just behind her as she cut through the crowd, but Scootaloo had grown tall enough to make her way on her own.
As they walked through the streets, they were greeted with cries of “Hey, Rainbow!” and “Happy Birthday, Scootaloo!”—and, at each call, they turned and saw friends, new and old—
“Scoots! Hey! Happy Birthday!”
Rumble—who stood short for his age, but made up for it in his broad shoulders and thick muscles—stood in a small knot of ponies, each wearing harnesses that hung thick with coils of rope, metal clips, and a dozen other things over vests of day-glo orange. Five years ago, he had saved first Rainbow’s, then Scootaloo’s, lives within six hours of each other. But it wasn’t until he caught Button Mash, who had taken a wrong step on a class hike, that he had gotten his cutie mark: a rope snaking back and forth, with a lightning bolt behind it. Destiny had marked him as a search-and-rescue pony, work that went surprisingly well with his short temper and asinine stubbornness. He was technically still too young to join any of the rescue certification programs, but that hadn’t stopped them from letting him participate in drills and practice exercises. By all indications, he would hit the ground running as soon as they let him in school.
“Hey Scootaloo! Having fun?”
Cloudchaser, who was leaning on the railing on the balcony just outside Thunderlane’s apartment, smiled and waved. From this angle, it was hard to get a good look at her, but even so, she hadn’t been able to hide her growing baby bump. As Scootaloo waved back at her, Thunderlane fluttered down beside her, pulled her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly—and, with a laugh, she returned the kiss.
“Oh—hey—Miz Dash—”
“Scootaloo! ♫Hap-py birth-day!♫”
Apple Bloom, whose willowy frame belied her Apple family strength, was pulling a wooden cart. Sweetie Belle lay in the back of the cart, lounging almost-comfortably among the boxes of nails and cans of paint. Sweetie had been practicing a few songs that Coloratura had taught her, filling the street with the glowing, resonant tones of her warm-honey voice. She’d even sing-songed her greeting to Scootaloo—and, as much as Scootaloo hated to admit it, those two or three bars of song were more beautiful than anything she would have been able to produce in her life.
The only one who Sweetie’s voice failed to illuminate seemed to be Apple Bloom, who turned and shot a glare over her shoulder.
“C’mon,” she half-pleaded, half-demanded, “get off that cart and help. We gotta get t’ the lumber yard ‘n’ back before dark. Big Mac is gonna kill me if I don’t get Marble’s nursery finished before he gets back…”
“But Dahhhling,” Sweetie said, imitating her sister, “I am helping. You can’t put a price on having your own personal vocal accompaniment, can you? Besides,” she added, “I only see one yoke on this poor cart.”
“Sweetie, I swear to Celestia—”
But they disappeared in the crowd, and were gone.
“Oh, hi, Scootaloo! Hi Rainbow!”
Scootaloo looked up towards the voice. She was somewhat surprised to see that she and Rainbow were passing Town Hall—and, waving at her from a second-story window, was Diamond Tiara. She wore a sharp suit with an open collar, and bore a sheaf of heavy papers on her back. Diamond had, to nearly everyone’s surprise, been accepted as an intern in Town Hall, working closely with Mayor Mare. There was even talk of her running for office when she got a little older—though, when Scootaloo had asked her about it, she had only blushed and looked away—though she hadn’t missed the coy little smile that had flitted across her lips.
“Hey, it’s the Birthday Bitch! You good?”
Button Mash stood to one side of the street, surrounded by a small crowd of foals. He wore a baseball cap--no propeller, sadly--and a silky white polo shirt with blue trim. It was this latter item that was drawing the awe and attention of the colts. Scootaloo hadn’t seen that particular shirt, but she recognized the style: it looked just like all the other shirts from his various eSports sponsors. He was only sixteen, but not many ponies got their cutie marks in video games. Fewer still proved they deserved them. Button hadn’t signed with any one team yet, though his mom had proven to be very skilled at juggling his different sponsors--giving a little here, taking a little there, never promising anything, but dropping just teeny little hints that they were secretly Button’s favorites.
Button himself didn’t really care. He was just ecstatic to be able to play video games for twelve hours a day--as long as he did all his home-school homework first, of course.
There were others who called out to her, of course. And more than a few who nodded and waved at Rainbow. But soon, they all became a blur, friendly faces in a crowd.
As they made their way across town, Scootaloo looked idly around, searching for more of her friends—when, suddenly, she realized where she was. That mailbox—that corner shop—that crooked street sign—!
Scootaloo pulled up short, her eyes wide. Rainbow looked over her shoulder at her, then stopped.
“You okay, Scoots?” she asked uneasily.
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said hesitantly. “Just—”
Scootaloo felt a twist in her stomach, at the same moment her eyes filled with tears. This used to be her street. The street where she used to live with Mrs. Harbour. The street that had been home—in the physical, emotional, and spiritual sense—for the first ten years of her life.
This is the street where she had set off for her first day of school. The street where she first met Sweetie Belle. The street where she had gotten her first scooter—and, fifteen minutes later, her first skinned knee. The street where Rumble had dropped her off after that first, fateful trip to Cloudsdale. And—this is the street where the nursing home came to take Mrs. Harbour. The street that bore witness to her first, most painful parting.
After that, she had never come back to this street. There were happy memories, yes—but also many, many ones that were better left forgotten. She had been tempted to visit once or twice—explore the house that had once been hers, the house that, by all accounts, had been left derelict in the years since--but every time she tried, she felt her heart breaking, and breaking again, a thousand times over, for all that she had lost. The pain hurt less after she found Rainbow, after she had begun to fill those holes in her heart, and yet, she still had that weight, that pain at the bottom of her soul. Pain for a broken and a stolen life, pain for a lost mother, that would never really leave her.
But, before she could begin to put those feelings into words, Rainbow broke into her reverie.
“Scootaloo,” she said quietly, “c’mon. It’s okay. I know it’s hard, but—” she swallowed nervously, then held out her hoof.
“C’mon,” she repeated.
Scootaloo looked from Rainbow, to her outstretched hoof, and back again. Then, hesitantly, she stepped forward, and put her hoof in Rainbow’s.
Rainbow pulled her in and squeezed her tight. Scootaloo pressed herself against her and took a deep breath, her nose filling with her scent.
“It’s okay,” Rainbow said, rubbing her back. “It’s okay…”
Scootaloo let her hold her until her breathing began to slow, and her heart no longer felt like it was going to burst through her chest. She looked up at Rainbow and smiled—and Rainbow, who had been watching her carefully, smiled back.
“C’mon,” she repeated. “I think you’re really going to like this…”
Rainbow took her by the hoof, then led her down the street. As they drew closer to her old home, Scootaloo’s ears pricked up. The sound of hammers and saws filled the street, growing louder the further they walked.
And then, they rounded the corner, the last corner before home—and Scootaloo froze.
She stared, wide-eyed, for several seconds.
“What do you think?” Rainbow asked.
Scootaloo looked up at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “What—” She looked back at the house. “They—” She looked back at Rainbow. “Who—”
Before Rainbow could speak, Scootaloo snarled, then started buzzing her wings furiously. “What are they doing to my house?!?” she roared.
The house—or, what remained of it, at least—had been torn open like a box of crackers. Workponies swarmed over it like maggots on a corpse, taking sledgehammers, saws, and axes to every inch of what remained. The pale blue siding that covered the house had been entirely stripped away. The front door, painted with a mural of a storm-battered lighthouse, stood sadly by as workers tramped into the front hall with muddy hooves. Great rolls of carpet, faded to sky-blue by sunlight and love, lay in rotting heaps on the lawn, waiting for the garbage ponies to take them away.
Scootaloo galloped toward the house—or tried to, at any rate. She screeched to a sudden, painful stop as Rainbow grabbed her by the tail. Scootalo rounded on her, her eyes both tearful and blazing with rage.
“You’re in on it?” she hissed. “You knew they were wrecking it, and you brought me here to watch?”
Rainbow spat out Scootaloo’s tail, then straightened up. “You got it all wrong,” she said, then nodded behind Scootaloo—not at the stricken house, but just to the right of it. “Take another look,” she said.
Scootaloo glared at her, then slowly turned to look where Rainbow had indicated. She frowned, then crept closer—close enough to read the sign.
The majority of the big, white placard was taken up with a delicate, pencils-and-watercolor rendition of a house. To Scootaloo, the house looked both familiar and alien at the same time. The peak of the roof, the sky-blue paint, and even the little wooden lighthouse on the porch, each reminded Scootaloo, in ways she couldn’t explain, of home. But, at the same time, it was all wrong: It was too tall, for one. And there was an extra row of windows. And that big shed off to the side hadn’t been there before, nor had the set of double-doors on the front.
Scootaloo scrutinized the drawing carefully, then let her eyes drift down to the bottom of the sign. There, in dignified print, it said:
Future Site of
The Safe Harbour Home
For Orphaned, Foster, & Homeless Fillies & Colts
As she read the words, the anger slowly fell from her face. After a moment, Rainbow stepped up beside her.
“What do you think, Squirt?” she asked. “Just like the old one—but super-sized and updated, with all the modern gizmos. Supposed to fit thirty foals at a time, and—”
Scootaloo abruptly turned to Rainbow. For a moment, Rainbow thought she was going to hit her--but then, Scootaloo wrapped her arms around her. Rainbow jerked backwards in surprise, then leaned forward again and put her arms around her daughter.
“I love it,” Scootaloo murmured into Rainbow’s coat.
Rainbow smiled a little. “You think she would have liked it, too?”
Scootaloo nodded, making a warm little sound as she did. She pulled Rainbow a little closer, then looked up at her.
“Did you do this?” she sniffled, wiping at one eye. “Where did you—?”
Rainbow shook her head. “Wasn’t my idea,” she said. “Not really. Twilight said the Princesses were looking for a location for a new shelter like this, and I just happened to know a great one. Though…” she smiled. “some of the finer touches were my idea. Like the name, for one.” She shrugged. “Safe Harbour has a nice ring to it.”
Scootaloo managed a weak smile.
“But… why?” she asked. “Why go to all the trouble for…?”
Rainbow gave a sad little smile of her own.
“When we were at her funeral,” she said, “and all those ponies came up, and talked about how grateful they were for everything she’d done… it got me thinkin’, a little. About you.”
“Me?” Scootaloo asked in surprise.
Rainbow nodded. “Yep, you,” she said. “All those years without you… Even though I had no idea who you were, I still missed you so badly, Scoots. But even I have to admit I would have made a pretty crappy mom. I had a lot of growing-up to do before I could really be who you needed me to be.”
Scootaloo chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, you did,” she said—and Rainbow gave a little chuckle of her own.
“Well,” Rainbow continued with a sigh, “I started thinkin’ that… that maybe… well, that maybe it was better that it took so long to find you. Almost like… almost like it was supposed to work out that way. And, if that was the case…” she sniffled, once. “Well… it made me happy to know that there was someone else to look after you in the meantime. Someone that still loved you, even when I couldn’t.”
Scootaloo felt the breath hitch in Rainbow’s chest. Another moment, and several warm raindrops dripped onto her mane.
“And I—I—” she began shakily. “I wanted… I wanted to make sure… that other moms, with other foals, could have that happen to them, too. Someone to love them, and be there for them, and care for them, even when they couldn’t.” Rainbow sniffled again. “And I thought—and I thought—that, maybe—-that maybe this would be the best way to make sure ponies remembered Mrs. Harbour. And that, maybe—that you might think so, too.”
Scootaloo smiled, then nodded against Rainbow again.
“I do,” she said. “I do, a million times.” She looked up into her mother’s face, and found to her surprise, that she had tears streaming down her face, too.
“Toldja you were a big softie,” Scootaloo said, her voice quivering.
“Am not,” Rainbow insisted, wiping at her tears.
“Am too,” Scootaloo replied, smiling.
“Yeah,” Rainbow admitted, “Yeah, maybe I am, after all...”
They held each other like that for a long time, heedless of the traffic and construction going on around them.
Finally, Scootaloo let go of Rainbow, then looked up at her.
“Wanna go to Sugarcube Corner?” she asked. “Get some of those cupcakes you love so much—ya softie?” she added, with a wry grin.
“Hey, low blow,” Rainbow shot back. “Besides—it’s your birthday. We should get the sort of cake that you like.”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo replied, “but today, I like those fluffy cupcakes with the rainbow sprinkles that happen to be your favorite.”
“Alright, alright, twist my wing, why don’t ya,” Rainbow said. “C’mon,” she said, turning to walk down the street. “Let’s go get some cupcakes.”
Scootaloo trotted up beside her, and the two set off. After a little while, Scootaloo looked up at Rainbow, then extended one of her wings towards her. Rainbow glanced over at her, and gave her a warm smile. She turned to face forward again, but held out her wing as well, her wingfeathers interlacing themselves with Scootaloo’s.
And the two of them walked on, wing-in-wing, mother and daughter, never to be parted again, until they faded into the crowd.