Poor, Unfortunate Foals
Scootaloo was in a pickle. She was thinking hard about something. She didn’t like thinking, she was a filly of action! But she had to think. Because, she had to understand if she really wanted to do what she wanted to do and she didn’t know.
Another day of not flying and no cutie mark? She had gone through enough for them to not have any effect on her anymore. But this was the first day they called her a name because of that. They had called her an ‘useless chicken’. It had hurt. Mostly because it was true.
She couldn’t fly, and without a cutie mark she didn’t have a special talent yet. The only thing she was good at was riding her scooter, but it’s not like that could be her special talent. Lots of ponies were athletic. She was nothing special on that.
She had ran from school, in tears, and had ended up in the Everfree Forest, of all places. Fortunately, she had been found by Zecora and brought to her hut, where she was working on some kind of magic dooda-stew, for some reason in complete darkness, the azure brew filling the house with light. She told the zebra about her plight, and after a while, Zecora said...
“My little Scootaloo, a solution to your problem I might have. If being young and blank is what you dread, I can turn you in a grown mare.” Scotaloo gasped, eyes wide while the zebra grabbed a large spoon and stirred the stew.
“Can you do that?!” Zecora chuckled at that, leaving the spoon in the brew and walking by her, laying a hoof on her right shoulder, the filly following her with her gaze.
“My dear, sweet filly. That's what I do. It’s in my blood. And I use it to help ponies like you. Poor foals, with no one else to turn to...” Zecora ignored her ‘Hey’ of outrage. She wasn’t a foal! The zebra just kept walking, resting her eyes on a couple masks resting on the walls. Two of the scariest, angry ones. “If you only knew my past, I've been a nasty... They weren't kidding when they called me, well, a witch.”
“R-Really?” That surprised her. Zecora had always been nothing but amiable, she thought as the Zebra turned to her again, smiling warmly.
“But you'll find that nowadays, I've mended all my ways. Repented, seen the light, and made a switch...” With her striped plot to her, Scootaloo didn’t nothing the frown that marred the Zebra’s face for an instant as she moved her arm to point at her hut. “To this.” When she turned around, she was smiling again. “And I fortunately know a little magic. It's a talent that I always have possessed...” She started to walk in her direction again. “And dear filly, please don't laugh, I use it on behalf of the miserable, the lonely, and depressed...” She passed her, and in doing so she missed her added, whispered... “Pathetic.”
“Huh?” Scootaloo whipped her head around, only to find nothing.
“Poor unfortunate foals.” She jumped in her seat as Zecora’s voice was now coming from the other side of the hut. “In pain, in need. This one longing to be thinner, that one wants to get the filly...” She continued, pointing at two masks, these ones deformed in desperate rictus of fear. “And do I help them?” The zebra returned her gaze to her, making her flinch with its intensity. “Yes, indeed.” She chuckled, as the strange stew started bubbling. “Those poor unfortunate foals. So sad, so true.” Zecora hoisted herself up, front hooves on the cauldron, the mists of the mixture covering her in light blue. “They come flocking to my cauldron crying "Spells, Zecora, please!" And I help them!” She finished, her voice raising in a final crescendo. “Yes, I do.”
“T-That’s really nice, Zecora...” Scotaloo continued, a bit nervous nonetheless. She would never admit it to anyone, but scary things, well... Scared her. And her hut, bathed in the light of the brewing potion, counted as scary.
“Now it's happened a couple times, someone forgot about my thanks, so focused they were on their goals.” Zecora continued, a hurt look on her face as her gaze fell on a collection of fetishes that lined one side of her home, before letting it go with a deep sigh. “Yes, I lose sometimes my temper, but I’ve been the best friend ever to those poor, unfortunate, foals.” She concluded, walking back to the young pegasus, chuckling. “So, my young Scotaloo, does a little deal interest you?”
And that’s where she found herself at an impasse. She really, really liked the thought of that. Being grown up, having her special talent, being able to fly-Flying! She would finally be able to fly with Rainbow Dash! Really be her student! But, there was something holding her back from saying yes. “I-If I become a grown up...” A big red bow, and a squeaky voice prone to crying a river. “I won’t be a Cutie Mark Crusader any more.”
“No more crusading for you, my little filly.” Zecora chuckled at the small pegasus’ plight. “Looking for something you have... Now, that’d be silly.” She laughed and then suddenly raised one hoof. “Oh, and there’s one thing we haven’t discussed.” It broke Scootaloo out of her reverie. “The matter of payment still has to be touched.”
“P-Payment?” Scootaloo’s eyes went wide, suddenly fearful. “But I don't have-”
“It’s not riches or money. A mere trifle I desire.” The zebra cut her off, smiling amiably, her eyes little more than slits at this point. “In exchange for my magic, it’s your voice which I require.”
“M-My voice?!” Scootaloo squeaked out, her hooves instinctively going to her throat. “But without my voice-”
“You'll have your mark. And big strong wings.” Zecora, again, cut her off. “That’s enough to live a blast. Just think of Rainbow Dash!” Rainbow Dash? “Have you ever seen someone talk about her voice?!” No, she hadn’t. “The only thing that matters is her flying.”
“T-That’s not...” Her rebuttal died on her lips.
“If she had been given your same choice, she would already be accepting! And after all, dear, what is idle babble for?” Nothing. Talking hadn’t brought her her Cutie Mark, not learning to fly faster. “Come on, dear! Ponies are not impressed with conversation, just look at that silly Twilight Sparkle!” Zecora continued, the stew behind her increasing its bubbling to the point that it was becoming noisy, the zebra raising her voice accordingly. “She fusses, talks and babble, and she only gets in trouble!” She walked closer and closer, her wide eyes in the young filly’s face, before turning around and bucking the wall behind the both of them. “And you are a pony of action!”
A bunch of pots fell into the cauldron, causing an explosion of red smoke, which filled the hut along with intense crimson light, the mixture bubbling like magma. “Come on, you poor unfortunate foal...” Again, Zecora disappeared inside the smoke. “Go ahead!” And again Scootaloo jumped as she reappeared behind her, making her squeak in fear. “Make your choice!”
“I'm a very busy zebra and I haven't got all day.” The smoke condensed in front of Scootaloo, forming a shape at the same time familiar and alien. A strong, tall, beautiful orange pegasus with a purple mane, her strong wings flapping on her sides. “It won't cost much...” She stretched her hooves forward. She could almost touch her, feel her strength and confidence. “Just your voice!” Only for the smoke to disappear, the image falling to shambles right under her gaze.
“You poor unfortunate foal!” Twirling around, the zebra grabbed onto a bunch of herbs, throwing them into the cauldron. Another explosion of smoke and light, this one green. The zebra raised herself on her back hooves, grabbing the smoke with her front ones. “It's sad... But true.” Zecora’s voice was mournful for but a second as the smoke in her hands condensed into two floating objects. A written scroll and a bowl filled with a black substance.
“If you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got the pay the toll.” The scroll floated in front of her, and Scootaloo gulped as Zecora leaned a hand on her right shoulder. Could she do it? Give up her voice? Being a Cutie Mark Crusader? “Take a gulp and take a breath and go ahead and sign the scroll!” The bowl floated to her hoof, covering it in the black, gooey stuff. She wouldn’t be able to talk...
But she would be able to fly. To be the best. Like Rainbow Dash! She raised her inked hoof. “Wings and talent await you, my dear, they’re waiting for the fall...!” She scrunched her face, determined. She took her decision. She trust her hoof forward, leaving a hoof-print which burst to flame as soon as she raised her hoof back. “Of this poor! Un-fortunate! Foal!”
The whole scroll burst into flames, the ashes from it hovering to and inside one of the masks in the hut, lighting its mouth and eyes with orange light. Zecora chuckled as she turned to the cauldron, the light back to blue as she waved her front hoof. “Equinus, caballus, come winds of the Equestrian Sea!” Scootaloo found herself floating upward as the hut started shaking, winds blowing and distorting everything around her until she could see nothing else but herself. “Larengix glaucitis, et max laryngitis, la voce to me!” And she could hear nothing but the rush of air, and Zecora’s echoing voice. “Now, sing!”
Scootaloo opened her mouth, summoning all the power in her vocal chords, remembering the talent pageant. All the work she had done with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle, the fun they had had in preparing their performance...
“Keep singing!” Zecora bellowed, and she obeyed, even as a claw made of pale green smoke approached her, and then trust herself down her throat. She kept on singing all the while, but after the smoke pulled back, her voice wasn’t coming out of her mouth anymore.
It came from the small, shiny globe held by the sharp claw, which closed itself around it with crushing strength.
A bolt of white light hit her, and she spasmed in a pain which she couldn’t vocalize any more, her body stretching and mutating. The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was Zecora’s crazed laughter.