When the driving wind became so strong that she had to dismount her scooter and press forward on hoof, it occurred to Scootaloo that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. After Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had been picked up by their sisters, her mom had given her strict orders not to leave the house while she went next door to help old Miss Bluehoof. She knew that sneaking out would worry her parents, but it couldn't be helped. In her mom's hushed conversation with Applejack, she had heard the names of certain ponies. Ponies who were involved somehow in the storm, ponies who were now missing. One name burned clear in Scootaloo's young mind, and even though she didn't know exactly what was going on, if Rainbow Dash needed her help, then there wasn't any question of whether or not she would be there. It was only now, with the world she knew obscured by sheets of rain, that the idea of her name being spoken of in that way began gnawing on her brain.
Oh well. Too late now.
Her eyes were turned skyward in search of her idol, so Scootaloo didn't notice the beginning of the slope until she was almost tumbling down it. She scrambled to find her footing as she backed away from the edge of disaster. The wind lashed at her mane and her tail, and she shivered as she peered out into the darkness, trying to get her bearings. Opening up before was a large empty space, and she realized she was near the Everfree river. If she listened closely, she could hear the rush of water over the roar of the wind and rain. Squinting her eyes, she peered down the hillside. Under normal circumstances, she would find herself atop a gentle incline leading down to the tranquil stream which split the town. Now mud made the slope treacherous, and the grey, roiling river was overflowing its banks twenty feet below her. She was about to retreat from her precarious position when something else caught her eye.
On the far side of the river, barely visible in the gloom, was the prone figure of a pony lying at the edge of the river. In fact, half the pony's body was submerged beneath the rushing water, and when its position shifted slightly Scootaloo realized with horror that they were mere moments from being swept away.
She looked around in a panic. There was nopony else nearby. There was only the howl of the wind and the dark windows of houses abandoned or battered down for the storm. If she ran for help, it would be too late. She had no idea which direction the nearest bridge was, or how far it was. Her wings unfurled and struggled against the wind. Never had the tiny things felt more useless. She stared at the figure across the river, and her heart reached out in desperation.
And then an insane idea came into her head. She happened to notice a spot where the riverbed reared up. Looking at the way the hill lead down to it, and the way the ground jutted up over the water, a particularly reckless young pegasus might think that nature had provided her with a ramp.
Scootaloo clutched her the handle of her scooter against her chest. It was a crazy idea. She had no idea if she could make it all the way down the hill, much less across the river, which seemed a thousand miles wider than it had last time she had seen it. Her heart beat counted the seconds as the rushed by, and she thought about Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash was a hero. Rainbow Dash was brave. Rainbow Dash wouldn't hesitate for a second.
Somepony needed her help, and in a moment, her decision was made. She set her jaw, tightened her helmet strap, and mounted her scooter. Pushing off, she started down the slope, letting gravity take control...
...and fell off balance as she felt more than heard a loud, splintering crack. She began to fall forward as she realized that the handle of her scooter, which had supported her on countless rides, had snapped at the base. The wooden rod hung in her hooves, and time seemed to freeze. She knew it was all over, that she had failed. She would fall face forward into the muddy hillside, and the pony in the river would be lost. Worse yet, she herself would tumble into the merciless waters and be swept away, never to be seen again. She wasn't a hero. She was just a stupid foal who couldn't fly, much less save somepony's life.
No.
Being a hero meant never giving up. This was her moment, and she wasn't going to let it slip through her hooves. She had to make it across the river.
Instinct propelled her, and she leaned back. Her hooves tightened against the wooden board, and although she wobbled and leaned, she kept her balance. As she began to build up momentum, she tossed the useless handle aside. She crouched down, and threw her forelegs and wings out to balance. The dirt ramp rose up to meet her, and as she approached her destination, the electric rush of adrenaline surged through her. In the months following, when she finally took the air on her young wings, Scootaloo would think back to this moment. When she had crashed to the ground two dozen times in a row, when the task of flight seemed an impossible dream, she would remember careening down that hillside in the wind and rain, only her balance and instincts keeping her on her course, and the breathless exhilaration of speed.
And then she was flying for real. Her broken scooter and her rocketed off the small rise, and then there was only air between her and the Everfree. She hung motionless above the world for a breathless second, then gravity claimed her once more. Her board finally fell from beneath her hooves, and although she was moving quickly towards the far bank, it wasn't nearly fast enough. In desperation, she spread out her wings to their fullest extent. She didn't fly so much as glide, jerking in the wind, and finally landing with a jolt in the mud and grass.
Scootaloo wanted nothing more than to lie on the ground and let her spinning brain catch up to the world, but her job wasn't over. Rising shakily to her hooves, she turned to find the pony lying a few feet away, its head and forelegs already sliding down the bank. As she stepped over, she barely registered the purple coat and mane of Twilight Sparkle underneath a layer of mud and water. There was no time to wonder what had happened to her, no time to think about the redness that covered one of the unicorn's legs. Twilight's eyes were closed, but when Scootaloo shoved her head under her uninjured shoulder, she could feel the unicorn breathing.
The world swam around her, and it was all she could do to focus on her task. Supporting Twilight's body with her own, Scootaloo began pushing harder than she ever had in her life. Inch by slow inch, she dragged the larger pony out of the river. When she looked back and saw Twilight's rear legs dragging furrows in the mud, her strength finally gave out. She fell to the ground, panting. Looking up, she saw the blur of figures in the distance, and her voice rose in a croak.
“Somepony help!”
The rest was a haze. She remembered being carried, and the hospital, and her crying parents, and underneath it all a steely feeling of pride. The exact moment was something she would never be able to place. She never even saw it until she woke up the next morning. But for years afterward, an old hospital form had a spot on the wall above her bed next to her Wonderbolts posters. The wrinkled paper recorded the condition in which the patient had been received, and also gave a physical description‒ her build, the color of her coat and mane, and her Cutie Mark.