Deep, frost packed clouds moved over the outer edges of the Everfree, pushed on by the chilled late-year winds. Ice chunks grip every branch, breaking its haunting stillness only when packed snow plummets from the treetops, knocked off by its own weight. A single cobblestone path, rarely used in this weather, carved through the trees, still matted with black ice and dead leaves. Given the airflow from the south, winter weather in Ponyville was always the harshest during its many cold months. Winter still had the tiny town in its grasp before the bright-eyed pegasi of Ponyville’s weather control allow the first warm rays of spring air through the gray cloud layer above.
While some hide away in their small wooden homes, coupled with steaming cups of hot chocolate, some like Scootaloo and her mother take kindly to the frozen air of Equestria in December.
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Little doves sing, bringing a small bit of color to the white noise of wind through the forest of blank pillars. Those same fluffy white birds are the reason that the young Scootaloo drags her tired old Mother out of the warmth of their house. Scootaloo dragged them both out every year to see the whimsical birds dart frozen through trees and branches.
The thought of being miles above the ground roused the wild imagination of the foal. Birds were her closest window to seeing the little air show performed, even if it wasn’t her own. The older mare knew this and did her best to please Scootaloo. This the filly’s her paradise, and it only came around once a year when these snow-painted doves populated the forest.
Dragged by the excited tugging of the little orange foal on her winter scarf, her Mother followed Scootaloo as the foal skipped down the gray cobblestone that carved through the woods. In an attempt to keep up her foal’s spirit, the pegasus mare pointed to a white and blue bird perched on a thin, dead twig. The filly quickly spun around before dashing to the dove. Slowly, she crept closer to the branch where the small bird stood. Scootaloo was able to get mere inches away before the timid bird spread its wings, dyed white with the colors of winter, and took off.
Left in awe, the young filly buzzed the few feathers of her own, in an attempt to chase the dove. She ran to the treeline separating the trees and the clearing before meeting the edge of the narrow cobble path, watching the bird go over and out of sight.
Scootaloo, seemingly unfazed by her somewhat failed flight attempt, swiftly spun back around to the smiling mare behind her. The older pony simply nodded, as if to say ‘good effort’. Scootaloo grinned wildly and bolted off down the path. Not far behind, her Mother followed.
The doves of the Everfree forest were defiantly a sight, but other small designs in the woods caught the observant eye of the mare. She stopped, only ever briefly to spy on a pair of whitetails scan the ground for the slightest sign of greenery in the distance, or watch a clump of packed ice fall the entire length of a redwood before clouding the base of the tree on impact. These noises were the few things that broke the haunting silence the deep woods held. Clicking little hooves soon sounded before a bright orange blur rounded the corner, quickly advancing the mare.
Scootaloo was nearing when something behind her Mother caught her eye, stopping her dead in her tracks. Noticing this, the mare spun around, attempting to catch what had frozen Scootaloo in place. Looking up, she saw what had frightened the young filly.
A redwood, tall as it was wide, shook and snapped pines as it sped towards earth; an avalanche of white wood followed. Dragging half the woods down with it, the old tree collided with the snow-covered ground with a crushing sound, sending clouds of loose snowflakes riding the wind. Pine trees snapped back into their tall thin, demeanor after being released from the weight of the wood. Vines clacked and wrapped around their new-found settling spots while branches nested in those of other trees. Bare evergreens, rid of the thick snow layers in which they had been wrapped in, brought the smallest patch of spring green against the white of the other un-disturbed snow pillars.
The sudden movement had sent a quick puff of snow-filled wind breezing in the mare’s direction. After a brief smile the pony looked back, expecting to see an amazed Scootaloo gaping at the timbered giant, but both the path in front and behind her were empty. The mare narrowed her eyes. One moment her excited little foal was bounding around the corner, and the next, she was off; more then likely startled by the falling tree. She spun around again, looking up the run where Scootaloo was last seen. More confused then anything, the mare slowly curved around the same corner she had come sprinting around, but the results were the same: the little filly was nowhere in sight. The thought of Scootaloo alone in the forest in the middle of winter pushed a knot to her throat.
“Scootaloo?”
Expecting an immediate answer, bothersome worry began to flow when the only answer was the wind pushing through the trees. Her steady, calm walk sped to a trot. “Scootaloo?” She said again, an urgent crack in her voice. Every second passing, Scootaloo was getting farther and farther away. Time was not on the mother’s side. Cold air catching in her ears, created a filling white noise.
“Scootaloo!” the mare called out, worrying the sound of her vaguely frantic trot drown out the answer of her filly. “Scootaloo!” she yelled again, louder. In one swift movement, she bounded into a full run. Pacing down the cobble in hopes of seeing the recognizable orange against the white, she turned off-path. As much as the path was used during the summer, almost all care for it was put on hold in the winter. This allowed vines and bushes to overgrow, creating a thick wall of shrubbery that made it difficult to navigate without scraping up the thin skin on a pony's legs.
The occasional click followed by solid thump indicating her hoof had bluntly slammed into a stone hidden in snow. Eyes shut tight, she plowed through a straining mesh of dead thorn vines and rotting tree trunks head first. Overwhelmed, the mare cried out her foal’s name once last time before pulling to a halt in the middle of the woods, up to her shoulders in soaked and scraped-up fur. She lowered her head, looking down at her belly, dotted with burrs. If this is what happened to her, an older and taller pony, being left alone in the woods, Scootaloo must be torn apart. Driven by this gut-knotting thought, she pounced over a nearby log and took off again, eyes darting through the trees, trying to pick out the slightest difference in color.
As the forest grew thicker, the mare was more set on dodging trees as they advanced, rather then the shrubs that littered the forest floor. The adrenaline-fueled panic slowed down to a fast-paced trot. Looking around, the pony noticed she had lost the thick coverage of trees and had run full speed into a white, rolling field. Without the hum and rustle of wind through leaves, there was an eerie dead silence hanging over the white covered plane.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember everything before the initial shock hit her, before the moment she realized her filly was gone. Through tear filled eyes, the weary pegasus noticed a white blur pass by her vision. Pushing open tear stained lids, she looked up. Millions of white flakes spotted the gray sky in a dazzling dance as they descended through the airstream ripping over the field, falling slowly to the ground. The mare felt dozens of snowflakes tickle her coat and eyelashes, melting shortly after impact, soaking her to the bone. The field was hauntingly empty, aside from the occasional bump in the snow from a buried bush. Quiet enough the mare could hear her own heartbeat between her ears. Trees swayed in the distance but made no noise. She could feel the wind picking up.
Then, something faint broke the silence. Giggling. The mare stood up in one swift movement, planted her hooves firmly in the snow and listened, closely. More giggling, quiet as the snow itself, but there. She smiled briefly before racing towards it.
“Scootaloo!” the pegasus mare hopefully called out. “Scootaloo, answer me!” The mother ran back into the trees, plowing through bushes and dead grass until she reached a round clearing, free from any winter captive plant life. There, in the center, the little orange filly danced and played with the snowfall, catching it on her tongue and nose.
“Scootaloo!” She cantered to the foal before embracing her; tears still soaked her muzzle. Blissfully unaware of the sheer panic she’d put the mare through, Scootaloo hugged her mother back like she would when saying goodnight. Relief had made her forget about the frantic search mission. With a quick kiss to her foal’s forehead, the mare reminded herself she had run very far off the cobble path. With these thick woods, finding your way back might as well be impossible.
Looking around, the mother noticed gray clouds quickly moving overhead, very low down to the ground.
“Scootaloo, it’s about time we go home.” Scootaloo looked up at the mare, puppy dog eyes used while dense white flakes land on her face and ears. “I know, but it’s late and about to get very cold.” Said the mare, referring to the nearing storm. The pair stood up and shook off the snow that had drenched them both earlier, Scootaloo reluctantly followed.
As the two walked on through the frozen woods the short clearing grew narrower and narrower before cutting off into tangled bushes and trees. Deep snow gave the short Scootaloo a difficult time. Having to take longer strides to keep up with her Mother, she occasionally hopped between the older pony’s hoofsteps in the snow that were quickly filling up as the downfall became more and more intense. Before the mare could look back to see if her foal was still properly following, a prevailing gale of wind almost knocked the filly off her feet. The mare, noticing Scootaloo’s tired demeanor, trotted back to pick up the weary filly, placing her between the pegasus’s wings.
Not long after, the mare watched with dread as the familiar red beam of sunset nested just over the treetops was consumed by angry black clouds, pelting the ground beneath with thick snow. Scootaloo’s mother became very worried.
In hopes of reaching the edge of the forest eventually, she pushed forward. Minutes later the little light left of the sun had fallen behind the mountainous redwoods looming over them. The old mare was on her last legs seeing that Scootaloo was not fairing well either, shaking violently as she sat upon her snow drenched mother. Clumps of snow in the poor pony’s mane were being painfully tugged and dragged by unexpected blasts of wind. As miserable as the two were, Scootaloo said nothing. She knew this was her fault. She knew her neediness was the reason they were being put through this. Heavy guilt would not help her now. She closed her eyes and sunk into her mother’s withers.
Dark, windy, cold minutes passed, testing the old mare’s every ounce of will power she had left. Minutes soon melted into hours. By now, her shoulders had become stiff trunks of wet skin, fur worn by the never-ending assault of gale driven snow. Looking up, she saw a twisting black sea of cloud. Looking forward, only hills and hills of snow piled, tree littered obstacles. The broken mare stopped. Her legs stuck to the ground like the tree trunks around her. Snow bled in from the fast moving air around her, piling up against the pegasus. Scootaloo still lay on top, her face covered by her front hooves but still chilled to the bone. A soaking wet scarf, now beginning to freeze over, was no help.
Scootaloo’s mother looked down, picking up one hoof she began to dig. She dug till the dead prairie grass, flattened from the heavy sheets of snow, became visible. She widened the gap, just enough to squeeze her and her shivering filly into. Like a fawn hiding in tall grass, Scootaloo fit snugly into the gap. Joining her, the mother collapsed next to Scootaloo, wrapping a warm wing around her foal, exposing herself and only herself to the blizzard.
Snow piled up like sand, slowly beginning to blanket the two ponies. The pegasus realized the significance of the situation she was in. Yet, it didn’t bother her. Scootaloo’s mother knew her fate was sealed; all she could do was encase Scootaloo, preserving the little life shivering under her wing. Besides, this was a mother’s job: bringing new life into the world, at all cost. Failing this leads to the most painful heartbreak a pony could suffer.
The mare sat as still as could be, only little, shallow breathes erupted from the tiny pony, wrapped in her mother’s embrace. Shuttered inhales turned to child-like sobs. Noticing this, the mother looked back at the crying foal.
“Scootaloo, shh it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Said the mother in an attempt to comfort Scootaloo, wiping tears with her nose. Suddenly, a sense of nostalgia rushed over the mare. This scene seemed oddly familiar, like something from the old pony’s own childhood.
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Sitting in a chair, rocked by the settle movements of a purple and blond mare, a filly lay cradled in the mother’s embrace, squirming and crying late at night. She lifted the foal to her chest.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Winters first snow filled the sidewalks and lawns outside. Kept warm inside, the mother sings to the stirring filly, a song her mother had passed on many generations before.
With a soft kiss, the baby was asleep.
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A tune began echoing through the mare’s mind. A tune so relaxed her own mother used on her to quiet times of distress into a blissful sleep. Looking back down at Scootaloo, a deep, soft breath began her song:
You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You’ll never know dear
How much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Noticing the tranquil words, Scootaloo hushed to listen to her mother’s cheerful tune. Coming to ease, the tired filly leaned against her dying mother’s side.
You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You’ll never know dear
How much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Please don’t take my sunshine away…
Tired smiles turned to closed eyes. For a moment, Scootaloo felt a sense of safety, of shelter, momentarily becoming unaware of the blazing storm outside her mother’s cover. Worn out, the young Scootaloo had fallen asleep under her mother’s protective wing.
The mare kissed the peaceful foal before settling down herself, finally reaching serenity.
When she had brought Scootaloo to this world, she knew her assignment was to raise her to the best of her ability. To give this newborn a fighting chance.
The mother had done her job.
The one job she had: to be a mother, to bring and protect new life, her life, her sunshine.
Authors note: EDIT: A HUGE thanks to Sabre for editing the story correcting grammar and punctuation. He even fixed the all hated text-wall. Go check out their writing. Thanks for Reading.
-Queen of Everything