Scootaloo told her uncle, “Yesterday after school I was exploring outside the Everfree Forest when I spotted this hole in the ground, right? Well, it wasn’t a hole. It was like somepony stabbed the ground and left an open wound. And it was big enough for me to fit through, so I slipped right in.”
“Fascinating,” Uncle Cliff-Hanger said. He did not look around his newspaper to her.
Scootaloo frowned, sighed and said, “And there was a giant, pony-eating bat in there, right?”
“Um—hmm?”
“And it bit off my wings.”
“Quite.”
“And I died!”
“Really? Do tell.”
Scootaloo waited for him to look at her. She knew she would need to wait all morning. “You don’t care.”
She saw the paper shudder, Uncle Cliff-Hanger still refused to make eye contact. He said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that last part.”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes and glanced to her right where her Aunt Sandy packed.
Along the back wall beside her, a display hung case with dozens of finely shaped bones. They were aligned in the shape of a two legged creature with stubby arms, thick legs and skull, and long tail. It covered the whole back wall and hung over a table with several brushes and various archeological tools.
Sandy was a unicorn whose colors reflected her name, her mane was a pink seashell color, her eyes resembled murky ocean water. Her cutie mark was brush dusting a bone. She busied herself gathering tools into a pair of saddlebags, she floated a tiny chisel before her, examined it and set it down on the table beside a set that ranged the size of a hoof’s span to half the length of Scootaloo’s leg.
Scootaloo pulled her gaze away and glared at the bowl of banana-nut oatmeal before her. Across the table Uncle Cliff-Hanger read his paper and occasionally leaned over to take a bite of his breakfast. He was a pegasus with a clay red hide, black mustache and mane a shade lighter. Scootaloo stuck her tongue out at him.
Scootaloo felt her tongue shoved back into her mouth by an invisible force that made the appendage tingle. “Manners Scootaloo,” Aunt Sandy said. “We’ve talked about this before.”
Uncle Cliff-Hanger said, “Don’t fret too much, dear. She’s just like my sister. A hooligan, and if I’ve learned one thing it’s that you can’t get the heathen out of a hooligan.”
Scootaloo’s eyes narrowed on her uncle. She muttered, “My mother was not a hooligan.”
Cliff-Hanger looked up from the paper and quirked his brow. He said, “Oh? You’re just like her, you know. Even though you finally have that cutie-mark, you still behave like a child.” Cliff-Hanger put the paper between them again.
Aunt Sandy said, “There, everything’s packed. Ready to go, darling.”
Cliff-Hanger scanned the paper again and said, “Just a minute, dear. There is a column here about that thieving Doctor Hooveston.”
“Not another one.”
“It’s over the Cipactli we were chasing.”
Scootaloo pursed her lips. Certainly a Cipa-watcha call it was worth talking about. Another stupid set of rocks for them to drool over.
Aunt Sandy nickered. Uncle Cliff-Hanger shoved the paper away and said, “Don’t worry about it, dear.” He went to his wife and nuzzled her cheek before he turned on Scootaloo and said, “We won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. Lock up the house before you leave.”
“Yeah, yeah.” A minute later the front door slammed and Scootaloo stepped away from the table. She grabbed her helmet from a closet, and went around back and found her scooter waiting. She set off for Sweet Apple Acres and left the front door to her uncle’s house wide open. She didn’t care if somepony broke in or not.
Rarity paced across the boutique with all manner of thimbles, needles, and spools revolving around her head. She forgot to wash her mane, and hardly brushed it. Sweetie Belle stood against the wall while the items above Rarity began to bombard a half-finished dress. The flurry of activity slowed down when Rarity looked over her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle, but I can’t make you breakfast this morning. Oh I was up half the night fretting over this whole business with Hoity-Toity and there’s simply so much more that needs to be done and—”
Rarity paused when Sweetie Belle tried to smile. “It’s fine. I can make my own breakfast.”
Rarity grimaced and said, “Actually, and I’m so sorry dear, but if you could, could you go over to Applejack’s and eat there? I hate saying this, but well… I need absolute focus right now.”
“Oh, okay… That’s fine, I understand.”
“I’m sorry, dear. It should be fine for you to come back this afternoon, but please don’t bring your friends. The boutique’s just too messy and I don’t want anypony to see it,” Rarity said. She turned back to the mannequin and the needlework increased its pace. A pair of scissors floated over and snipped a thread before the sky-blue sash hung on the dress naturally.
“I’ll see you later,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Goodbye darling,” Rarity said without looking up. Sweetie Belle sighed and went to the door, her stomach growled when she opened it. When she closed it behind her she heard, “Opal don’t touch that!” Opalescence hissed, something crashed and her sister groaned.
Sweetie Belle kicked the dirt and sulked along. She wanted to help, she really did. But all she could do well enough was measure fabric, and Rarity already had her do all that. Dress-making wasn’t in her blood, and far-flung from her special talent. Her cutie-mark showed as much.
She sighed and headed for Sweet Apple Acres.
Scootaloo’s wings buzzed and fanned a torrent of air in Applebloom’s face. She rode in the wagon tethered to the scooter, leaning forward and watching Sweet Apple Acres buzz by. She saw her brother and waved to him. They kicked a plume of dust in his face made him cough.
Applebloom giggled, until she heard Scootaloo say, “Whoa.” She pressed the brake and the scooter slowed to a stop at the entrance of the farm. There Sweetie Belle stood. She said, “Hey girls.”
Applebloom waved her over. “Hey Sweetie Belle, hop in.” Sweetie Belle did and Applebloom slapped Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Okay mush.”
Scootaloo twisted around and fixed her with a glare.
Applebloom grinned.
While Scootaloo began to start up her scooter again, Sweetie Belle asked, “Where we going?”
“Into Ponyville,” Applebloom said. “We want ta get some gear for cave divin’ and such. Scootaloo found a real neat one yesterday, and well, haven’t tried that yet, have I?”
Sweetie Belle frowned. “But we hardly have any bits between us.”
“That’s why we’re goin’ into town, to get some bits. There’s got to be somepony needin’ us ta do something for’em.
They swung onto the road to Ponyville and Scootaloo said, “And if it comes down to it, we can set the wagon up and I can do some tricks.”
“You don’t mean begging do you? I know Rarity wouldn’t—”
Scootaloo’s tail smacked against her flank. “I’ve done it for bits before. And I don’t beg.”
Applebloom shook her head. “It’s not beggin if we do somethin’ for it.”
“I guess so…”
Caramel hefted the sack and dropped it before Applebloom. Metal clanked and clattered inside. Sweetie Belle helped her toss it into the back of the wagon.
Caramel said, “Now you fillies remember my instructions?”
“Course we do,” Scootaloo said, already on her scooter and tapping the ground with a hoof.
Applebloom nodded. “Thanks again, mister Caramel.”
Caramel smiled. “Anything for Big Mac’s little sister. When you fillies finish come back here and I’ll pay for all your hard work.”
Applebloom beamed while Sweetie Belle clambered into the wagon and opened the bag. Inside a dozen sets of new horseshoes were ready for delivery to the good folk of Ponyville. They plum ran into Caramel as soon as they got into town, and darned it if he didn’t have work for them already. The horseshoe sets were tied together with twine, inside the bag Caramel left a note with all the addresses.
Applebloom hopped in and asked, “Where’s the first house at?”
“Sixteen Banana Bottom Lane is the closest, it’s the size sevens,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Then let’s go Scoot,” Applebloom said.
Scootaloo sped them down the road. In seconds the wind rushed in their mane and made the fillies’ eyes water. Sweetie Belle covered her face and said, “Slow down.”
Scootaloo shook her head and said, “Nuh-ugh. Let’s get this done fast as we can.” They swerved right, the two fillies in that wagon braced their hooves on the edge to keep them from flying out. They entered Banana Bottom Lane and Snips and Snails popped into view. “Watch out!” Scootaloo yelled. The two colts’ dove and collided into a stall. Scootaloo raced away while the stall owner waved an angry hoof at them.
Sweetie Belle pointed at an encroaching one story home. “That’s it right there. You going to stop for us?”
“No way. I’m not giving trouble a chance to catch up with us. Just throw it.”
Sweetie Belle looked at Applebloom. They didn’t have time to decide who would throw it. So Applebloom grabbed the shoes in her teeth and hurled them as they passed. They missed the door and landed in the garden, crashing into a pot and shattering it.
“Scootaloo!”
“It was an accident, wasn’t it? What’s the next address?”
Sweetie Belle scowled. Scootaloo drove them around the corner and slowed to stop. Applebloom squinted at the words on the scrap of paper Caramel left them. Sweetie Belle said, “You need any help, Applebloom?”
“No, Ah got it. It’s gonna be… Sixth Rock Candy Road,” Applebloom said.
“Let’s go then.”
Sweetie Belle said, “No more playing horseshoes, though.”
Scootaloo didn’t answer.
The remainder of their delivery went by a success. They returned to Caramel and found him outside his shop. He waved to them as they approached and motioned to a bench in front of his small smithy. He said, “Your bits, fillies.”
“Thanks a bunch, Mister Caramel,” Applebloom said. She hopped out of the wagon, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle followed her.
While Applebloom went to the small purse, Sweetie Belle said, “Before we take your bits, sir, you should know that—”
Scootaloo swept a hoof under Sweetie Bell’s back leg. The unicorn stumbled. It was nothing personal, but they needed the bits. And if they told Caramel about how they broke one stupid old pot, then he’d take them away. Normally Scootaloo would agree they should tell the truth, but this was important and spelunking too awesome to pass up.
Scootaloo said, “Everything went better than expected.”
Sweetie Belle glared at her.
Applebloom stopped herself and said, “Gosh, you’re right Sweetie Belle. We sort of messed up our first delivery.”
Caramel asked, “It wasn’t anything disastrous, was it?”
Scootaloo cleared her throat. “No, nothing serious at all. Just a pot got broke, is all. I think it was Sweetie Belle here—” the filly beside her gasped, “who tried to toss it onto the porch while we passed, I couldn’t tell exactly.”
Applebloom shook her head, “No, it was my fault. I’m sorry.”
Caramel chuckled. “It’s fine girls. When you said you messed up I expected you burned somepony’s home down, but a pot? We can fix that, and for your honesty I won’t take away any of your bits.”
“Ya mean it?”
Caramel nodded. “Just make sure to say high to Big Mac for me when you get the chance. Been awhile since I’ve seen him and I can’t think of anypony who goes through horseshoes faster. He’s definitely my best customer.”
“We will, sir, thank ya very much.”
She took the purse and rushed to the wagon. Scootaloo bounded behind her and got ready to go, she almost pushed off when she heard, “Ya comin’ Sweetie Belle?”
“Yeah…” Scootaloo tapped her hoof against the scooter before she felt the wagon rock. Sweetie Belle climbed in and Scootaloo fanned out her wings. She kicked the scooter into motion.
Scootaloo heard Applebloom ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. How much did we get?”
“Oh, I’m not sure but I bet it’s a whole bunch.”
“Let’s count it out then,” Sweetie Belle said.
Scootaloo interjected, “Hey, I enjoy running around as much as everypony, but where are we going?”
“Umm… gosh…”
Sweetie Belle said, “Oh, I know. Pinkie Pie’s not in town right now so why don’t we go see if they need any help at Sugar Cube Corner?”
Scootaloo disliked Sugar Cube Corner. Mostly because over the past year she learned to like sweet things less and less. She was more about savory, herself. She opened her mouth to say so when Applebloom said, “That’s a great idea, Sweetie Belle.”
That made Scootaloo’s wings pause for a moment, but they picked up their pace and she steered the scooter into a tight u-turn. If Applebloom thought it a good idea then she couldn’t say no.
“At this rate you might just get your delivery cutie mark,” Sweetie Belle teased.
Applebloom giggled. “Then I’ll be a part of the pony express.”
“Mail ponies can’t all be bad,” Sweetie Belle said.
“But the one here is,” Scootaloo said. “Besides Applebloom, you’re too cool to get a ‘delivery’ cutie mark. I bet once we go spelunking it’ll—bam—be right there in a twitch of a tail.”
There Scootaloo went, talking over her again. It was all Scootaloo ever did anymore. Once Sweetie Belle and Applebloom kicked up a conversation the pegasus filly had to jump into the middle of things and try her hardest to steal Applebloom’s attention. Sweetie Belle didn’t even care that Scootaloo ignored her; she just wanted to know what was wrong with her and so great about Applebloom.
Mr. Cake returned with a trolley he rolled around from the back. He stopped it next to the wagon and said, “We appreciate your help girls. Don’t you know, while Pinkie Pie was here business wasn’t so busy and then when she left, well wham pow and boom—ponies lining up outside and around the door. We just finished the cake. It’s for little Twist’s birthday, take care of it.”
He hefted one side of the tray, Applebloom rushed over, saying, “We’ll help ya with it.”
Sweetie Belle tried to join Applebloom, but Scootaloo darted in front of her and took a spot beside Applebloom. While Mr. Cake held one handle, the two crusaders held the other. They gently set the tray inside the wagon. It took up half the space there.
Mr. Cake said, “You girls should take turns riding with it, just to be sure if you hit any bumps it don’t come flying out and splattering all over somepony. We’ve had that happen one too many times here at the Corner.”
Applebloom said, “We’ll be extra careful, sir.”
“We trust ya girls. Here’s your payment then, two bits, but don’t be afraid to squeeze a tip out of Twist’s parents. Give them the big eyes, if you know what I mean,” Mr. Cake said. Applebloom took the change and stuffed it in the purse Caramel gave them. They were up to fourteen bits so far.
They headed straight for Twist’s house.
Applebloom knocked on Twist’s door again. She stepped away from Twist’s home and back to her fellow crusaders. The three waited outside Twist’s home, Scootaloo’s scooter and the wagon beside them.
Scootaloo swished her tail across the dirt, Sweetie Belle sneezed. They waited.
Nothing.
Scootaloo said, “So much for a tip.”
Applebloom turned on the two, who refused to look at each other. “Now what do we do? How are we supposed ta deliver the cake if no pony’s home?”
Sweetie Belle glanced at the wagon. “We can’t just leave it here. What if somepony or animal gets into it?”
“But we can’t wait here all day, either. As it is we’ll be lucky if we can go spelunking tomorrow,” Scootaloo said. “Is the door unlocked?”
Sweetie Belle finally looked at her. “We can’t be trespassing—”
“It won’t be trespassing if we just slip inside and leave the cake with a note, now will it?” Scootaloo said. Sweetie Belle huffed, both looked at Applebloom.
Applebloom took a step back and bumped her flank into the door. The hinges sqeaked and the bottom half of the Dutch door cracked open. Applebloom gasped and spun around. Scootaloo grinned, passed her and pressed the rest of the door open. “See? This house is inviting us in.”
Sweetie Belle said, “Applebloom…”
“Uh… um… I think she’s right. My sis has told me plenty times before that only bad ponies trespass.”
Scootaloo stamped a hoof. “Come on. Do we want to sit here until we grow beards?”
Sweetie Belle sighed. “If we can’t leave it outside, and we can’t wait, then I guess that means we have to take it inside.”
Applebloom glanced away from both fillies.
“Come on, it won’t take more than a second. Then we can get on with our day,” Scootaloo said.
“And you swear we won’t get into trouble?”
“Course we won’t,” Scootaloo said.
“Now come on,” Sweetie Belle said. She went to the wagon and stopped by the handle. “Me and Scootaloo can pull it in and you can make sure there’s nothing in our way.”
Scootaloo frowned, but Applebloom didn’t notice. She went to the wagon with Sweetie Belle while Applebloom slipped inside. Sweetie Belle asked, “Is there something wrong with me?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve just been being… I don’t know, very rude to me lately, and I don’t know why and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Rude?” Scootaloo said.
“Yes, rude. Like how you blamed me for breaking that pot.”
“Hey, I didn’t see he threw it, okay? And I thought Applebloom threw better than you, so I just guessed—”
“Well you guessed wrong,” Sweetie Belle said. “Forget about it. Let’s get this inside before Applebloom comes back out here.”
Both grabbed the handle in their teeth, and started for the door. They backed up to it slowly, the strain made Scootaloo’s teeth hurt a little. She wanted to drop the handle and say something to Sweetie Belle. She could be rude too, sometimes. And it was an accident. She just didn’t know who threw it, was all.
The wheels of the wagon bumped the slight rise of the doorway. Both fillies grunted and with a sharp tug, cleared it. When they got the rear wheel in they let go of the handle and looked around Twist’s home. Applebloom stood beside a low table in the middle of the den with a white table cloth draped over it. She had a wax grin plastered over her face.
She said, “Right here’s okay, right?”
Sweetie Belle said, “Sure.” They grabbed the wagon and dragged it as close to the table as they could. Sweetie Belle dropped the handle and said, “Wouldn’t it be easier if we backed the wagon up to the table?”
“Um…” Applebloom nibbled on her lip, her eyes darted to the door and back to the two of them.
Scootaloo said for her sake, “That’ll take too much time. Let’s just pick it up and go.”
Applebloom nodded furiously. Scootaloo went to the side closest to Applebloom and said, “Come on over, we’ll take this side together.”
Applebloom darted over to her side. Scootaloo imagined it because she was so nervous and needed somepony to comfort her. Her brain conjured an image of her draping a wing over her friend.
But Applebloom stopped and said, “Actually, wouldn’t it be better if me and Sweetie Belle took a side? You’re a bit tougher than the both of us.”
“Don’t worry about it, Applebloom,” Sweetie Belle said. “I can use my magic to help me on this side.”
“Ya sure? I mean, this cake is awfully heavy.”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I don’t want to make a fuss over this.”
“Okay…”
Scootaloo got wound up, she expected any minute for Applebloom to leave her side. She flared her nostrils and almost outright glared at Sweetie Belle when she grabbed the handle. The gesture went unnoticed by her friends. Scootaloo grabbed the other handle in her teeth with Applebloom. Feeling her cheek brush against Applebloom’s made the pegasus’ heart flutter. With three tiny grunts, the tray wobbled into the air. Scootaloo watched Sweetie Belle’s eyes squint. Her legs trembled, but she held. They scooted the cake out from under the wagon, and brought it around to the table. They just needed to set it down…
“What are you guyths doin’ in my houthe?”
Applebloom squeaked and leapt behind a chair. Scootaloo saw Sweetie Belle try to jerk her head around to the door to look behind her. Scootaloo knew what would come next. With a deep breath, she pressed off the ground with her back hooves and tucked them in while the handle on Sweetie Belle’s side fell out of her grasp. Scootaloo’s teeth swung on the handle and she landed hard on her back. All four hooves came up to meet the platter. The whole cake shook, threatened to topple out of her grasp, but Sweetie Belle gasped and snatched her handle again so Scootaloo’s heroic effort wouldn’t be in vain.
Applebloom poked her head out from behind the chair, prepared for the worst. When she saw the cake in one piece, she told Twist, “Uh-huh-hum… we brought you a cake!”
They retreated from Twist’s home and decided on a different course.
“Come one come all,” Sweetie Belle called while Scootaloo did some exaggerating stretching beside her wagon. They stood in the center of the town square, Applebloom sulking on the other side of the wagon. Twist didn’t mind them intruding, but the cake was supposed to be a surprise and well…
Applebloom shook her head. Not for her to worry about. No way no how. Anyhow, Twist smiled and waved goodbye when they left, her quirky glasses rocking on the bridge of her nose.
Sweetie Belle yelled, “Feast your eyes on the brave filly who will take any challenge.”
Scootaloo glanced at Applebloom and smiled. She said, “Don’t worry about Twist, okay?”
Sweetie Belle said, “Can I take a moment of your time ma’am? Would you like to see the fantastical skill of my friend? No? Oh, thank you then. How about you? Yes, you with the saddle bags…” Sweetie Belle paused as the mare she tried to flag down hurried away with her head bowed.
She faced Scootaloo and said, “I don’t think this is going to work.”
“Bah. Forget about them. Ponies won’t stop watching when I get going.”
“What are you going to do exactly?”
Scootaloo pointed to the burnished but disfigured weather vane at the top of mayor’s house. “I’m going to touch that.”
“So—”
“Without using my wings.”
Applebloom spoke up. “Ya sure about that? What if the mayor gets upset ’bout you climbing all over her house?”
“The mayor won’t care if I don’t climb all over her house.”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle both cocked their heads. “Since when did ya leap a buildin’ in a bound, miss Superpony?” Applebloom asked.
Scootaloo smirked. “Better than Superpony.” She crouched low and faced a building on the opposite end of the square. The pegasus flared her nostrils and scraped her hoof against the dirt. She bolted towards the building, in seconds she crossed the square and leapt onto a wagon. From there she jumped onto an awning and bounced on top of the roof. By now more than a few ponies watched while she ran and jumped from that roof to the wall of another building. She landed hard against a brick niche, but yanked her body up and over the roof. She hopped onto a storm drain and ran a tightrope across it to an adjacent building, over to the other side where she leapt off and landed atop a streetlamp. From there she pounced across the street to the adjacent lamp. She hit the lamp in its middle and wrapped her front hooves around. Her momentum sent her swinging around and off.
She caught a flower pot hanging from a wooden beam and swung up, released the pot and spun into a backflip. Several of the ponies in the square clapped their hooves against the cobbles when Scootaloo landed atop the beam. She pounced to her next object and swung and bounded her way up the faces of two buildings before she ran across the roof of the home and leapt to mayor’s house. She did a flip in the air for show which ended halfway when her front hooves came down on the roof. She launched herself off her hooves the rest of the way, righting herself in the air and catching the mayor’s weather vane. The vane wobbled and the pegasus filly swung back and forth. The vane hunched like the back of an old work pony when Scootaloo finally came to a stop.
The filly waved at the crowd below.
Sweetie Belle said, “Fillies and gentlecolts, the Great Scootaloo!”
More cheering, and this time some of the ponies approached the wagon and dropped a few gracious bits into their purse. Applebloom peeled her eyes away from Scootaloo for just a minute, just to watch their purse get a little fatter and fatter…
Scootaloo yelped.
Several of the ponies in the crowd gasped. Applebloom spun around and saw her friend tumble down the roof, the weather vane snapped in two. She heard Sweetie Belle shout, “Scootaloo!”
Sweetie Belle dashed to the spot Scootaloo would land. Applebloom watched the pegasus twist and contort in the air, her wings a flurry of motion. Scootaloo came to a stop right above the ground, eyes squeezed shut while she floated there. They popped open and she grinned when the earth didn’t come up to meet her.
But the weather vane did.
It caught on a shingle for a moment, swung once, then plopped off, and landed on Scootaloo’s head. She cried out and fell to the ground. Sweetie Belle laughed. Scootaloo rubbed her head, grimaced and said, “Hey, not funny. Knock it off.”
Sweetie Belle jabbed her hoof at Scootaloo. “But you already did.”
The door to the mayor’s house opened. She stepped outside and saw the crowd of ponies and demanded, “Now what is this?”
“I’d like ta know to. Ya’ll got somethin’ ta do with this, Applebloom?” Applebloom squeaked and spun around. She faced her sister and crept back a few paces.
Applebloom chuckled and didn’t meet her sister’s gaze. She turned to her friends and beseeched them. Scootaloo stood and winced when she rose too fast. She had a lump right behind her left ear. She said, “This is all my fault.”
“Then you broke my weather vane? Have you defaced any other pony’s property today?”
Scootaloo nodded and faced the mayor. “Because of me we accidentally broke a pot, but Caramel already knows and has fixed things up with them.”
Applebloom frowned. The pot was her fault. Sweetie Belle said to Applejack, “She’s telling the truth. We got into some trouble today, but it was mine and Scoot’s fault.”
Applebloom shook her head. “No guys. We were all tryin’ ta do the same thing.”
“And that is?” the mayor asked. By now she stood over her weather vane and nudged it with her hoof. She shook her head and said, “This was a gift from my mother.”
Applebloom looked at the weather vane and the stray thought slipped out of her mouth, “Well that’s a lousy present.”
“Applebloom!”
Applebloom slapped a hoof over her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“Tarnation, learn ta speak before ya flap your jaw like that. I apologize Mrs. Mare, here.”
Applejack went to their wagon, retrieved the purse and dropped it before Mayor Mare’s hooves. “For the damages done on your property.”
Mrs. Mare nodded. “Thank you Applejack. I trust you can handle these fillies?”
Applejack passed a glare back at Applebloom and made her flinch. She said, “You can bet your bits on it. Apologize again, girls.”
Mrs. Mare listened to their chorus of, “We’re sorry,” and took her ruined vane and the purse back inside. She slammed the door behind her. Applejack wheeled on the three of them and said, “I can’t believe you girls. Whose fool idea was this?”
“Mine,” Scootaloo said, and she did not back down when Applejack fixed her with a stern glare.
Sweetie Belle said, “I helped. Applebloom didn’t do a thing, honest Applejack.”
Applejack snorted and turned away. She paced for a moment, stopped and faced them again. “Ya’ll really disappointed me. You’re supposed to be at an age where we can trust not to pay ya any mind. But then ya go and do this and I get the sense ya got no sense still.” She noticed the fillies wouldn’t meet her gaze and sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop badgerin’ ya, but listen up. Ya’ll head back to the farm and play there. If ya want ta make some extra bits, there’s plenty of work me and Big Mac need help with. But tomorrow you’re going to go to Fluttershy’s cottage and care for her critters. And there won’t be any payin’ for your labors.”
“But that’s not—”
“Not a word from you Scootaloo. I have half the mind to tell your aunt and uncle about your behavior—don’t ya roll your eyes or I will. Now, head back down to the farm. All of you, unless you two plan on going back to your own homes for the day.”
The rest of the day scraped by in quiet disappointment. There would be no spelunking, and any play had been drained out of the three crusaders. They ate, sat around, and complained about their day. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo almost had a fight over whose fault was whose, but Applebloom managed to stop that from adding to the disaster.
Applebloom watched the sunset from the window of their clubhouse. Her friends departed not long ago, but she didn’t feel anymore alone.
She heard a hoof knock on wood.
“Go away.”
Applejack said, “Can’t do that. Big Mac told me there was a bad apple brewin’ on this side of the farm, and you know we can’t let that stay.”
Applebloom faced her sister, who entered the clubhouse. She didn’t wear her hat, and on her face was a soft smile. Applebloom squared away her feelings and said, “All we wanted to do was make some bits. We didn’t mean ta harm nothin’.”
Applejack sighed and studied the tattered Cutie-Mark Crusader cape tacked on the wall of the clubhouse. She said, “I know you gals always mean the best. And if it was here on the farm, I would have tanned your hides about not being safe, but wouldn’t have cared two bits about a dumb weather vane. But…” she looked at Applebloom, “Ya got to understand it was somepony’s property, and… well I suppose all those ponies starin’ at us got me riled too. I’m sorry, Applebloom. And I’ll make it up to ya’ll, I’ll give back half the bits ya lost today. Ya still need ta be punished, but I practically paid Mrs. Mare to buy another one.”
A snicker betrayed Applebloom. “It was a pretty icky lookin’ thing.”
“Big Mac could make a better one by kickin’ around a few lumps of metal,” Applejack said. They both shared a laugh and Applejack closed the distance between her sister. She nuzzled her cheek and said, “Fluttershy did leave me some bits for whatever pony watched her cottage. If you gals do a good enough job, they’re yours. I know the last pony didn’t quite earn it.”
“What pony did you get?” Applebloom asked.
Applejack said, “Shucks. The mail pony, saw her drifting around and called her down, asked her if she wanted a job. Couldn’t get one thing or another out of her, aside from that she’d use the bits to buy muffins. Then I come round at noon and the cottage is a mess and Angel’s sitting at the front door waiting for me. She points inside and gives me a glare set to simmer apple cider.” Applebloom giggled. “And there’s the mail pony, in a tangle of furniture and animals, Fluttershy’s home lookin’ like a stampede ran through it. I cleaned up best I could and sent Ditzy on her way. Then came into town to find ya’ll up to your old antics. Ya know I never caused half as much trouble as you girls do.”
Applebloom said, “Ya just don’t know how to yet.” She stretched her neck and whispered in her sister’s ear, “But if ya want, I can teach ya how.”
“Why you—” she pushed her sister over and ran her hooves over Applebloom’s belly. The filly squealed, bucked, and broke into laughter as her sister tickled her ceaselessly. A tickle war ensued for the next few minutes, and ended with the two sisters sprawled in a heap in the middle of the clubhouse. Applebloom lied across her sister, who rest on her side.
She yawned and said, “Wouldn’t mind going to sleep right here. You’re mighty comfy, ya know.”
Applejack smiled. “And you make a fine blanket.”
“The best, maybe that’s what my cutie-mark’s supposed ta be.” She yawned again and snuggled her face into her sister’s mane. “Love ya, big sis.”
The last thing Applebloom heard before sleep washed over her was, “Love ya, little sis.”
Sweetie Belle opened the door and said, “I’m home.” Opalescence yawned and stared at her from across the boutique, curled up on a table. Draped over the table with half-finished fabrics rested her sister.
Sweetie Belle frowned and went to her snoozing sister’s side. She nudged her flank. Rarity’s head shot up. “Why yes I’m a size three—Sweetie Belle! You’re home, eh… what time is it, darling?”
“It’s past midnight. You’ve been working really late and need your rest.”
Rarity yawned. “Probably the case, I’m sure I got a few more excellent dresses done today.”
“Um…” Sweetie Belle looked around the messy boutique and said, “You sure did. But come on, let me take you to bed.”
Sweetie Belle led her sister around a knocked over mannequin who wore a patchwork dress and navigated the half-asleep pony upstairs. When Sweetie Belle entered the room, she quickly crossed it and closed the curtain on the other side to shut out the orange sunlight lingering from dusk. She took her sister’s hoof at the door and guided her to the bed. She laid her sister down, tucked her in and said, “Good night, Rarity.”
“Mm… yes… good night to you too, Mr. Fashion Purse.”
Sweetie Belle tried to smile, but couldn’t. She watched her sister drift into a deep, restful sleep before she sighed, closed the door gently behind her, and went downstairs to clean up.
Nopony closed the door when Scootaloo returned home. The whole house stood separate and apart from the other homes on the street. She stared into its dark bowels and felt a flutter of fear. She took a deep breath and thought of Applebloom standing beside her. It helped. She went inside, closed the door and lit a candle. She scrounged some dry oats from the pantry to fill her belly and went upstairs to her bedroom.
She shut the door behind her and set the candle down on her nightstand. From under her bed she dug out a cardboard box filled with comics her mother collected. It was the only thing of hers Scootaloo’s family deigned to keep when she passed. They never knew her father. She cracked open the pages of the comic at the top of the box and began reading.
She went through the whole box, like she did every night. Imagining her mother must’ve sat hunched like this when she was Scootaloo’s age. When she finished the candle burned low, she blew it out, crawled underneath her blankets and went to bed.
The silence of the house kept her up most the night.
The Cutie-Mark Crusaders pulled in front of Fluttershy’s cottage. Sweetie Belle and Applebloom hopped out of the wagon and went to the door. Everypony’s spirits were better with Applejack’s promise of payment. Before she left the cottage the other day, Applejack tacked a list of things to do to Fluttershy’s door.
Both Sweetie Belle and Applebloom read it while Scootaloo unstrapped her helmet. She tossed it in the back of the wagon and asked, “Well?”
Sweetie Belle mumbled, “There’s a lot here…”
Scootaloo trotted beside the two and stopped beside Applebloom. “Let’s just get it done—whoa. I didn’t know a pony could write that small. Or that badly.”
“Hey, are ya mockin’ my penmanship’s too?” Applebloom said.
Scootaloo said, “But yours is going to get better, isn’t it?”
Applebloom frowned. “Suppose it’s got room ta grow…”
Sweetie Belle interjected, “Looks like we need to feed most of the animals first. Fluttershy keeps all her food around back, doesn’t she?”
Applebloom blinked. “Huh? Oh, sorry Sweetie Belle—I think so, let’s go take a look.”
“Race you,” Scootaloo said and dashed away.
Applebloom chased her. “Hey, not fair. Gettin’ a head start like that.” They circled around the cottage to a small garden behind the humble home. It sat in the shade, the plants heavy with the morning dew, and beside it were several sacks of various grains and feed for Fluttershy’s collection of birds. On the stack of burlap slept a small, white rabbit.
When Applebloom burst into the scene behind Scootaloo the rabbit bolted upright. He glared at the two and rolled over and put his back to them. Scootaloo said, “Come on, you gotta be getting slower. Last time we raced it didn’t take you that long to catch up.”
“Last time ya didn’t get the jump on me, either.”
Sweetie Belle rounded the corner, the note levitating in the air beside her. She said, “Now it says here those sacks are labeled. There are different seeds for the bird feeders here, she just wants us to fill them up and call them with a little song. Shouldn’t be that hard—”
“You handle it then,” Scootaloo said. “What else? Chickens need to be taken care of, right?”
“Well yeah, but—”
“Then me and Applebloom will handle them,” Scootaloo said. Applebloom noticed Sweetie Belle’s lips pursed a moment, she glanced at the bags, then the nearest bird feeder thirty paces away that hung from a lone cedar tree.
Applebloom said, “We can help out with that first, though—”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it. Besides, I’m the singer, right?” She swung her flank into view and the cutie mark there.
“It’s settled then,” Scootaloo said. “Let’s do it to it, Applebloom.”
She trotted over to pile of sacks and picked out the one with “chickens” stitched in a tarnished yellow. She said, “Watch out, Angel.” The rabbit sat up and crossed his arms. He cocked his head. “I need this.” The rabbit snorted and lied back down. Scootaloo shot Applebloom a look. Applebloom shrugged, so the pegasus grabbed the sack in her teeth and yanked it free of the pile. The sacks came tumbling down, Angel squeaked and leapt off the burlap avalanche. He landed and wheeled on Scootaloo. He shook his paw at her and stalked off.
Sweetie Belle said, “That rabbit scares me.”
Applebloom said, “Shucks, hey we’re sorry Angel. But it’s feedin’ time and such. So don’t wander off now.”
Scootaloo shrugged and hefted the sack. “I wmed hm.”
“Say what Scoot?”
Scootaloo spat the burlap from her mouth. “Blegh. I said, ‘I warned him.’ Now come on, Applebloom.” She took the sack and made her way around to the chicken coop.
Applebloom said to Sweetie Belle, “Um… let us know if you need any help.”
“You know if I need something I won’t hesitate to ask.”
Scootaloo brought the seed around and said, “Here chicka-chicka’s. Come on out, you’re breakfast’s here.” Scootaloo stood the sack up and undid the knot keeping it close. Inside waited a slew of dried corn kernels. Scootaloo eyed one, shrugged her wings, and snuck a bite.
It tasted like dirt and ick. She spat it out and said, “Ugh, the sack taste better.”
She heard Applebloom say, “Hey, I thought you said you weren’t a chicken.”
Scootaloo rounded on her friend. “I am not!”
“Then why ya eatin’ chicken feed, silly?” Applebloom asked.
“I was just curious, is all. Now come on, help me get these guys out.” Scootaloo pointed a hoof at the chicken coop, the door was wide open. They could see dust swirling with the sunlight, it crept inside through stray cracks and holes in the woodwork, but they spotted no chickens.
“Why ya need my help? You’re not trying to tell me your chicken of chickens, are ya Scoot?”
“Whatever, come on.”
Applebloom giggled and shoved her friend. “It was just a joke, lighten up.”
Scootaloo forced herself to chuckle. “Right, a joke.”
From the coop came a squawk. A flurry of feathers made both crusader’s freeze, until a single form stood in the doorway of the coop. It was a fat, white hen, who fixed a glare on the two. She sat down in front of the door. A few of the birds peeked their heads around her, but retreated when a swift beak struck them.
“Hey, chicken. We brought you something to eat, come on out.”
The hen watched them. Her glare soon began to melt their patience. Applebloom said, “She’s actin’ like she’s got a fresh batch of eggs underneath her.”
“We can’t wait all day on some chicken. Here, I’ll flush them out.” Scootaloo strutted to the door, the chicken’s simmering gaze remained unblinking. Only her chest’s rise and fall indicated she wasn’t a feathered statue. “We can do this two ways, chickie. I can move you, or you can move yourself.”
The chicken didn’t move.
Scootaloo smirked. “I love it when they put up a fight.” She rushed the door and closed the gap between the chicken. She leapt into the air and landed hard on plank that led into the coop, she fanned out her wings and reared up on two hooves. “Rargh!” She came down with all her weight, her hooves clopped against the wood and punctuated the whole motion.
The hen clucked once. She pecked Scootaloo in the head.
“Hey—ouch—” Scootaloo fell back under a beak barrage. She tripped off the plank and landed with an, “Oof.”
She blinked and groaned, her head throbbed. Behind her she heard Applebloom squealing and snorting. When she glared at the filly she found her friend’s legs in the air, she was on her back clutching her stomach.
“What’s so funny?” Scootaloo demanded.
Applebloom stopped with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Scoot. It’s just funny to see a chicken too hardboiled for you.”
Sweetie Belle heard laughter from the other side of the cottage. She nickered and hefted the sack of birdfeed. With a grunt and some focused magic to help, she managed to prop it up just right for tiny seeds to flood into the feeder. A handful spilled and landed across her face. She pulled the sack back before she shook seed from her mane.
She mumbled, “Stupid Scootaloo. Making me do this all by myself.” She didn’t want to, but she wouldn’t make a fuss before the day even began. Scootaloo was just… well… Sweetie Belle didn’t have an answer for why she acted the way she did. All the filly seemed to want anymore was to spend time with Applebloom, and it wouldn’t get underneath Sweetie Belle’s skin so much if she just knew why.
She sighed and began calling the birds.
The two heard Sweetie Belle’s voice carry over the cottage and Applebloom said, “Uh-oh, Scoot. You don’t hurry up and Sweetie Belle’s gonna beat ya.”
Scootaloo scoffed. “Forget it. Some chicka isn’t going to stop me.” She climbed the ramp and stood before the hen. She brought herself to her full height and said, “Come on, move it or lose it. I’m not afraid of hitting another girl you know—”
The hen pecked her in the head. Scootaloo winced but said, “Not going to work. You can’t stop this pony with a beak.”
The hen’s eyes narrowed on her. She clucked three more times and pecked Scootaloo again.
“Would you stop that!”
Peck. Peck. Peck. Scootaloo backed off, when she faced Applebloom she found her friend with a hoof over her mouth, she quivered and stomached her laughter. Applebloom pointed at a small bowl of water beside the cottage door and said, “Take a look at your forehead.”
Scootaloo stomped to the bowl. She gasped at her reflection, and the half dozen red, lumpy welts on her head. Scootaloo wheeled around on the bird and growled. “This means war.”
Sweetie Belle finished with the last of the bird-feeders. She admired her handiwork and the robins and cardinals sharing the feeder. The note said good singing would make sure they didn’t fight over a single seed, so it pleased her to see her voice justified.
Sweetie Belle worried the girls would be lounging while she did all the work, she still had the list after all, and feeding chickens wasn’t difficult. She went around to the front and saw Applebloom standing alone. Scootaloo and her scooter were gone. So was the chicken feed. Sweetie Belle frowned and approached Applebloom.
“What’s going on?”
Applebloom grinned. “Oh hey, Sweetie Belle. You got to see this.” She looked down the road, Sweetie Belle followed her gaze and found Scootaloo barreling towards them. The chicken seed swinging from her mouth.
“Applebloom? What is she doing?”
“Wait for it…”
Scootaloo blazed past them, into the chicken pen and sped straight for the chicken coop. A lone hen waited at the door, unflinching. The bird stood and stepped out of the way as Scootaloo shot up the ramp. Sweetie Belle blinked, then heard a crash and their friend exploded out the other side. The filly went tumbling across the grass, her scooter cartwheeling with her and the bag of seed ripping open and spilling across the grass. Frantic chickens swarmed out the gaping hole and front door, the rogue hen waited for them to, and then took a seat in front of the door again.
“Sweet Celestia, Scootaloo!” Applebloom yelled. The two rushed to their friend, who was sprawled in a tangled heap of scooter and limbs. She groaned when they reached her and shook her head.
She tapped her helmet and said, “This is why I don’t leave home without this.”
While Applebloom helped her up Sweetie Belle demanded, “What were you thinking? You could’ve killed yourself.”
Applebloom said, “It’s mostly my fault. I egged her on, right Scootaloo?”
“Don’t talk to me about eggs.”
“Right, sorry.”
Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. She faced the coop, the chickens dashing about and escaping from the open pen. She said, “I can’t believe this…”
“I can patch the hole,” Applebloom offered. “Shouldn’t be too much trouble if I run back to the farm and grab some tools.”
Scootaloo stepped away from Applebloom’s support. “I can take you there.”
“No way, ya silly filly. You see the way ya just crashed through that wall? You’re gonna rest here ’til ya feel better. Sweetie Belle will deal with the chickens, I’ll tackle the coop, then we can get right back on track.”
Sweetie Belle’s shoulders tensed until her front legs almost trembled. She took a deep breath, exhaled, then faced the two with a smile. She said, “Suppose that’s the best we can do. Let me deal with that hen.”
She went around to the coop and saw the hen still at the entrance. She studied the chicken and said over her shoulder, “Hey didn’t you guys recognize her? This is Elizabeak, the chicken we ran off into the Everfree Forest?”
“Really?” Applebloom asked.
Sweetie Belle nodded. “She was a bit bigger than the rest. Hello Miss Elizabeak, I’m sorry about my friends troubling you. But can you please move over for me?”
With a huff, the hen marched down the ramp and out the way of the door. Sweetie Belle heard Applebloom ask, “Why didn’t we think of that?”
Sweetie Belle almost lost her temper.
The door to the cottage opened. Sweetie Belle mopped her face with a rag, tossed the sweat-covered cloth over her shoulder and came inside. Scootaloo sat on the couch, she glanced at her and said, “Oh, hey.”
“Hey.” Sweetie Belle crossed the room and fell back on her haunches. “Feel like I’m going to fall over. I don’t know how Fluttershy does it. I’m pooped and all I did was feed them.”
“Mmhmm…” Scootaloo said. She kept herself distracted by looking through a photo album she found out on top of a small table in the den.
She felt Sweetie Belle’s gaze on her while she studied the older photographs in Fluttershy’s scrapbook. Most of it told the story of Fluttershy’s life. But the first few pages were of a mare about as old a Fluttershy now. An earth pony, under her portrait was the name, “Posey”. It was Fluttershy’s mother. Scootaloo knew because on the page were several family photos of Posey, her husband, and newborn Fluttershy. One of them showed a clear backdrop of the royal palace in Canterlot. The last picture of Posey was with a group of very different ponies, five in all, all of them smiling and gathered close. Then on the next page, Posey disappeared, and in her stead an orange pegasus pony replaced her, and the backdrop changed to clouds.
The sudden disappearance stirred feelings in Scootaloo’s gut. She kept looking at that last picture of Posey, and flipping the page over to the pony in Posey’s place. She thought about her mother. Her uncle said she was struck by lightning during a weather experiment and… one page to another, she disappeared.
“Scootaloo… don’t you think those are supposed to be private?” Scootaloo almost jumped right off the couch. Sweetie Belle stood beside her, looking over her shoulder at the photographs.
“You’re right.” Scootaloo began to close the photo album, but Sweetie Belle’s hoof came down and snapped it open.
“Wait a minute.”
Sweetie Belle poked her head around Scootaloo’s. She felt her mane brush against her cheek and smelt the sweat mingling with the shampoos the unicorn washed her mane with. She almost blushed when Sweetie Belle brought her head back and pointed out one of the ponies in the group photo.
“Do you know who that is?”
Scootaloo frowned. “Am I supposed to?”
“That’s my mother. You know…” Sweetie Belle bounced up and down and finally spoke, “Remember when we broke that portrait in my sister’s room? Before we met Applebloom, and how my sister put up a fuss?”
Scootaloo squinted at the pony. “Hey, yeah… you’re right. What happened to her?”
Sweetie Belle froze, the life drained out of her and she said, “I’d rather not… I’d rather not talk about it.”
Scootaloo closed the album. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah…”
Thud. Both crusader’s yelped. Scootaloo fell off the couch and landed on top of Sweetie Belle, who tripped up on the leg of the table. They both fell in a tangle of legs and hooves. On the scrapbook stood Angel, his arms crossed and a firm glare on his face. He thumped a paw against the book and huffed.
Sweetie Belle coughed and dragged herself out from under Scootaloo. She said, “Alright, alright, we won’t touch it. Okay?”
The little bunny huffed again. Scootaloo got her wobbly hooves under her, the effort making her shoulder ache. Angel hopped off the couch and disappeared into one of the cottage’s many nooks and crannies. Sweetie Belle said, “He scares me a lot of the time.”
Scootaloo said, “I know. Aren’t bunnies supposed to be cute?”
“Only when they’re not trying to bite your head off,” Sweetie Belle joked.
Scootaloo shuddered. “Ugh. Killer bunnies. A crusader’s arch-nemesis.”
They both shared a laugh, the first in a long time.
But then from outside they heard, “Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo! You girls inside? Cause I need help with these tools.”
Scootaloo gasped and dashed outside, past Sweetie Belle to Applebloom. The earth filly stood beside their wagon with a set of tools and a few planks of wood stacked inside. She beamed until Scootaloo nearly tackled her.
Applebloom giggled. “It’s good to see you too!” Scootaloo hugged her close and then pulled away.
She said, “It’s been too quiet here without you.”
“Well that don’t make much sense. You had Sweetie Belle here with ya, didn’t ya? Hey Sweetie Belle, come on out. I can see you inside there,” Applebloom called.
Sweetie Belle flipped her mane and trotted to the two. “Great to have the crusaders back together. Now let’s fix up that coop!”
Sweetie Belle felt her whole brain become as sluggish as the rest of her. Getting reminded of her mother’s passing, even if Scootaloo didn’t mean to, just brought down a whole new set of anxiety and guilt. Rarity never blamed her, but Sweetie Belle didn’t need her to. Still, she painted a smile over her face, no matter how much it hurt, and they went around to the coop.
“Now my sis left us with plenty wood ta work with. So we’ll just do this right and bang one board in after another. Shouldn’t be any trouble at all.”
“What about the chickens?” Sweetie Belle asked.
Applebloom frowned. “What do ya mean?”
“I got them calmed down and back into their coop. They’re all sleeping right now. If we start banging on the wall they’re going to panic. We should wake them up, lead them outside, and one of us watch them while the other two finish with the coop.”
Scootaloo said, “No way, there’s not enough time. We’ve already gotten really behind, and Applejack will be around here in a few hours to check on our progress. If we aren’t done we can’t get our bits, can we? That’s why we’re here. Just lock the door and let the stinking birds calm down on their own time.”
Applebloom scratched the dirt with her hoof while her two friends stared each other down. She looked up and said, “Scootaloo…”
But Sweetie Belle said, “Fine. You’re right. I’ll go lock the door.” Sweetie Belle wasn’t going to argue with her, when everything went wrong, she couldn’t be blamed for it. Sweetie Belle went to the door Fluttershy added after their whole debacle the night they stayed over. That was more than half a year ago, and already rust clung to the latch when Sweetie Belle flipped it down. She heard a chicken cluck on the other side, followed by Applebloom’s shout, “Ready, Sweetie Belle?”
“Ready.” She hopped off the ramp and went around the coop to the back. Before she got there a set of banging went off. She heard the shrill squawks of surprised hens. The banging paused and Applebloom said, “Got the first one down.” Sweetie Belle rounded the corner and found Scootaloo holding the board over her filly sized hole while Applebloom readied her hammer. She struck the nail four firm times and nailed the board in place. The chickens on the inside were frantic, clawing at the door and squawking their little beaks off.
Applebloom squinted inside the thrashing mass of feathers and said, “They’re really goin’ at that door.”
“Who cares, they’ll stop in a minute. Stupid birds,” Scootaloo said. She hefted the next plank of wood and set it above the last. “Let’s finish this. We got three more to do.”
Applebloom nodded and whacked another nail in. The door on the opposite end of the coop rattled. Sweetie Belle could hear the hinges groaning. Applebloom paused before she hammered her fourth nail and suggested, “Why don’t we stop for a minute?”
“And leave me holding this board up?” Scootaloo asked.
Sweetie Belle sighed. “I’ll check on the door. Finish up that nail, okay Applebloom?”
She trotted back around only to find the latch on the door loose. She forgot to slip the bolt. Sweetie Belle gasped and ran to the door. She was sure she yelled for Applebloom to wait, but she still heard, bang, bang, bang, bang! The door to the coop flew open just as Sweetie Belle reached the ramp. A stampede of feather of fluff trampled her. The panicked birds knocked her off the ramp and she fell on her side, dazed.
She blinked and coughed. She saw a feather fly out her mouth. Her face stung from several small scratches. She shook the cobwebs from her eyes and stumbled to her hooves. Only to hear Scootaloo demand, “What happened?”
Sweetie Belle faced the two crusaders. Applebloom watched the chickens rush around their pen, while Scootaloo fixed her with a glare. “You said you could handle this.”
Sweetie Belle looked at her hooves. She pursed her lips. “They just got the jump on me, is all.”
“They’re chickens!”
Sweetie Belle ground her teeth. Everything just seemed to culminate into this awful moment, and Scootaloo stood at its epicenter, talking down to her for something that wasn’t her fault. Scootaloo made the gaping hole, Scootaloo insisted on terrorizing the chickens. All she forgot was one bolt, a stupid bolt.
“Scootaloo,” Applebloom said. “It was an accident, now let’s take care of this.”
Scootaloo nickered and said, “Alright. Let’s clean up this mess.” Both crusaders turned their back on Sweetie Belle. A tremor ran down her spine and she felt a tear begin its bloom. She couldn’t do this anymore, she was tired of taking blame and being walked all over and ignored. Scootaloo probably wouldn’t notice if she just left, Applebloom too.
So she did.
Applebloom’s spirits reached a new low, and she couldn’t say a thing or think of a thing to say for the inevitable argument. Arguments. It reminded her of that time in the Everfree Forest, when they joked about getting an argument cutie mark. What happened to that? The “Yes” and “No”s thrown back and forth until things got so silly they just ended it with laughter.
“—it’s bad enough we had to deal with her mess, but to just abandon us? Can you believe that? After everything we’ve been through and just boom! Gone. No goodbye. No excuses. Just leaves in the middle of everything. I bet she doesn’t care about spelunking at all.”
Applebloom listened to Scootaloo list off all her complaints, but she couldn’t agree or disagree. A part of her wished Scootaloo would just leave, so she could talk to Sweetie Belle alone. She even suggested it, that maybe Scootaloo should stay and finish up while she found Sweetie Belle, but Scootaloo said, “No way, I’m not letting her get away with this.”
They traveled down the road, Applebloom scanning the sides. They made their way to Ponyville, convinced their fellow crusader returned to the boutique.
But Scootaloo’s ears twitched and she froze. She said, “You hear that?”
Applebloom listened. She heard a mockingbird’s nasty squawk in the distance, but nothing else. Scootaloo said, “This way,” and led them off the road to follow a small trail that led into the back of Sweet Apple Acres. Pretty soon, Applebloom heard the faint sound of a distant voice. A sad, “What would you do if I sang out of tune…” floated through the air.
Scootaloo looked at Applebloom and nodded. “That’s definitely her.”
They followed the source into a thicket of trees and brush. They had to circle around a few times to find an entrance to the thicket, all the while Sweetie Belle’s singing drifted to them: “Does it worry you to be alone?”
“Here we are,” Scootaloo said, and found a narrow opening. She crouched low and crawled through the brush. Applebloom swallowed the knot in her throat and joined her. They did not go far before the brush opened into a dome. Light fell in cascades, like through a moth-eaten curtain. The foliage cast warped the rays into soft shades of green that seemed to revolve through the dome as they stepped through it.
And Sweetie Belle sat on a low stump in the center. Still singing.
Scootaloo stepped on a twig and snapped it underhoof. Sweetie Belle stopped. Applebloom watched her shoulders rise and fall. She said, “Oh, hey girls.”
“Is your brain sunbaked or something? Why the heck did you leave us to clean up after you at the cottage?” Scootaloo demanded.
Applebloom put a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. She said, “Scootaloo, that’s not the way to handle things.”
Sweetie Belle spun around and said, “No, it’s the only way to handle things, isn’t it? This has been going on for weeks, months now! Ever since I spent that week helping my sister cut fabrics, afterwards, it was like I didn’t belong no more. Why? What did I do? But I don’t blame you, Applebloom. It’s her.” She jabbed a hoof at Scootaloo.
“Me?” Scootaloo’s wings rose. “I haven’t done a thing to you—”
“But that’s just it,” Sweetie Belle said and stamped her hooves. “You haven’t. You don’t listen to my advice, worse still, if Applebloom suggest the exact same thing your eager to do it then, even if you hate the idea. It’s like I don’t matter anymore. And I’m the one who feels abandoned. I mean—gosh you blame me for things I didn’t do, like that stupid coop. It’s easy for you to say I’m the one fooling around, even when you were the one that crashed through the thing like a typical feather-head.”
Scootaloo gasped. Applebloom watched her take a step back like Sweetie Belle struck her, then she scowled and said, “Yeah… well… why didn’t you ever say a thing? You agreed with me at every turn, and you never once said anything about me ignoring you—”
“I shouldn’t have to when it’s right in front of your eyes!”
Applebloom stepped between them and said, “Come on, gals. Let’s calm down and just talk this out. Maybe there were problems with both sides, but I don’t see no reason why we can’t work this out.”
“You’re not any better, though,” Sweetie Belle accused and Applebloom flinched. “You never once stood up for me.”
Applebloom knew she never did. There were times she should’ve, she knew now, but she didn’t want to take sides. And with how tight-lipped Sweetie Belle was about it she just reckoned she got over things better…
Scootaloo said, “Don’t you dare say anything bad about Applebloom.”
Sweetie Belle scoffed. “Applebloom. Applebloom. Applebloom. She’s all you care about. Why are you so obsessed about her?”
“I… I…” Scootaloo’s eyes darted between the two crusaders, “You were never around as much as her. I could rely on her—”
“That’s stupid.” She touched a hoof to her chest. “So it’s my fault my sister ropes me into doing things for her?”
Scootaloo growled. “Well at least you have someone.”
“Oh right, and it’s fantastic to know a dress is more important than you.”
“Better than a bunch of rocks.”
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo stared each other down. Sweetie Belle said, “You know, at least you’re free. I have to constantly live up to standards that can drive me nuts.” Sweetie Belle’s voice became stuffier. “‘You must talk like this, darling. And no you cannot sing at that filthy dive, but we can make trip to the opera house this weekend.’” She kicked her stump. “I can’t do a thing wrong, or a thing I want.”
Scootaloo shook her head. “You have no right to complain. You’ve no idea what it’s like to never have someone. Never have a mother—”
“I killed mine!”
Applebloom felt sick, but thanked Celestia for the curtain of silence that fell between them. They never knew anything like that, each knew the other’s parents passed, but never that.
Sweetie Belle raised the curtain. Her voice was soft, as if what she said was just as gut-wrenching a revelation for her. “You know, it’s funny, we could call ourselves the ‘Orphaned Cutie-Mark Crusaders and it would still work…” She released a heady sighed. “This is why I left when things got crazy at the cottage. Because… because…” Sweetie Belle sobbed, “I knew this would happen. I knew we would end up hating each other. I don’t want that. I still don’t. So I’ll just go, okay?”
She hopped off the stump and locked her gaze with the entrance to the hollow. She marched to it, and Applebloom felt like the canopy above their heads got closer to collapse with every step she took. The earth pony’s legs wobbled. She didn’t know what to do. She needed to stand up for her friend, against her other friend. Her eyes darted to Scootaloo, who glared at Sweetie Belle the whole time, lips drawn tight. When Sweetie Belle passed, Applebloom mumbled, “Please, let’s just talk about this.” Sweetie Belle ignored her. She passed through the entrance of the foliage and disappeared.
Applebloom’s knees buckled. The canopy and light swirled above her and made her dizzy. Her breath came up short. She remembered the time she fell into the creek when she was a foal, and how Equestria slowly turned over into a blur of light, sloshing water, and suffocation until Big Macintosh saved her.
“Applebloom!” Scootaloo crouched over her and said, “Don’t worry about her. She’s doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Applebloom sobbed. She looked up at her friend and felt revolted with what she found in her eyes. She choked, coughed, then said, “Don’t… don’t do this. We just lost our best friend and all ya can do is blame her for being nasty.”
Scootaloo hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s right. All you care about is me. Why?”
“I… I just… I really like you. Lately I feel all alone except when I’m with you and…” Scootaloo nuzzled her cheek. Applebloom felt her tears mingle with Scootaloo’s, the pegasus’ breath washed over her ear. “Please don’t be mad. Please. I love—”
“Don’t say that.” Applebloom shot up and backed away. She shook her head and tried to deny the words. “That’s why Sweetie Belle hates us. Hates me. And it’s not natural. I… you’re a great friend, the best friend, Scootaloo, but I don’t feel that way at all… and… and… I’m sorry.” Applebloom closed her eyes and ran through the exit. She felt branches and thorns scratch at her hide and tear at her hair. They ripped off her bow. She didn’t care. She pulled herself out from under the brush, crying.
Everything fell apart so soon, so fast. She didn’t know what to do. What to say or who to side with. She couldn’t do anything about Scootaloo’s feelings, but she didn’t want to just push her friend away. She ran back to the farm without thinking, without thinking she ran into the solid, warm frame of her brother. He scooped her up and rested her on his back. Big Macintosh carried her to the farmhouse, whispering comforting words without even knowing why she felt so awful.