Scootaloo checked her tool belt. The hay knife, water flask, glowstick, ball of twine, and emergency whistle were all in place.
“Day one, hour one: the patch of forest on the edge of my house is quiet. Possibly too quiet.”
She flipped down the pair of “night vision” goggles over her eyes. (Technically they were a pair of liberated green cider-bottle halves with shed glowworm skins in them.) She lowered the rope out of her bedroom window and dropped onto her camo-painted all-terrain scooter.
The other crusaders wanted to try their hooves at becoming Monster Hunters too, but Sweetie Belle started Magic Kindergarten today and Apple Bloom was busy trying to keep a lid on the wild jackalopes. Babs, of course, was busy with Street Urchin and Sad Angel in Manehatten.
That was okay. Even though she’d be slow to admit it, she liked getting some time away from her friends. She pumped her wings, kicked off, and glided down the backyard to the edge of the Everfree.
Scootaloo sat down, stared into the twisted brambles and dark shadows of the unholy forest, and waited.
She continued waiting for a while. She thought she spotted a parasprite, but it turned out to just be a dragonfly. Apparently they got that name because they were good food for baby dragons. She contemplated catching it as a present for Spike, but it had already flown off. She sighed. Why did horrible monsters like cockatrices with abandonment issues, ravening hydras, and three-headed dogs only show up when she wasn’t ready for them?
Scootaloo pawed the ground and fluttered with impatience.
A flock of greenjays burst into the air. A sound like thunder rumbled through the valley, followed by silence. The little filly perked up.
A howling biped crashed into the clearing. Scootaloo’s heart pounded in her throat as the mad beast lunged towards her. Its body was almost covered in metal-studded shiny black material. Its mane was short and black with streaks of blue. Its eyes and pupils were very small, and set a little too close together, while its nose was pointed and tiny. It had a regular horn and ears, which seemed a bit out of place on its body. It was also waving a timber wolf’s severed leg. Its mouth had the sharp teeth of a predator, and she smelled blood on it.
Scootaloo backed up, drew her blade, and decided on a surprise assault.
“Buck off, pony-eating freak!” She screamed, lunging at it with a leaping kick. Her hoof crashed into its soft stomach, and the creature staggered back.
“Ow!” it screamed. “What the hell, Scootaloo? What did you do that for?”
Scootaloo froze. “Monsters from the Everfree Forest know my name?”
The creature froze and lowered the still-twitching limb. “Scootaloo. You’re Scootaloo? You’re a pegasus!”
Its pupils widened. “Of course. The manticore, the timber wolves…I’m dead, right? I just died and the virgin Mary or Dionysus or somebody in the celestial bureaucracy was feeling very generous and decided to give me an undeserved leg up? Or maybe the exploding light hit me, and this is some illusion from my dying brain as the molten glass fries my nerve endings?”
She reached out and gingerly touched Scootaloo’s wing. She squealed. “You’re real! Are you real?”
Scootaloo nodded. “Um, I’m real, and you don’t smell like a zombie to me.” Ravening monsters weren’t supposed to be more confused and freaked out by her than she was by them.
The unmistakable howl of two Alpha timber wolves echoed through the clearing. A one-eyed manticore fluttered just above the treeline, nursing a broken paw.
“Um, this is really amazing and all, and I’d love to have a pet monster, but maybe we should go inside to talk about it. Like, now.”
#
“I’ll have two dozen rainbow-frosted croissants, and a triple-tiered carrot cake, and four of your party sampler specials,” Rarity said. “Ooh, and that twenty-pound chocolate bar looks delicious.”
“Holy fried dough, Rarity, you must be having a big party,” Mrs Cake whistled. “Are your folks coming back for a family reunion or something?”
“Oh no, I’m just utterly famished,” Rarity laughed, blushing a little and waving away the notion with her front right hoof. “You know how peckish unicorns get after a fast. I expect I won’t be able to turn down a free lunch for weeks to come.” She whipped out a monogrammed silk handkerchief and wiped drool off the glass case and her chin. Her stomach snarled like an angry red dragon.
Mrs Cake trotted behind the counter and pulled out a small cart to load up with Rarity’s overambitious order.
“What’s the hold u--hiya Rarity!” Spike said, his voice cracking as he shifted verbal gears. He swept his crest back and offered a low bow. “Come around her often?” he said in a falsely casual tone.
“Only when I need to make some emergency edible boots,” Rarity said, eyes still focused on the cascade of sparkling confectionaries. “It’s too bad you couldn’t take part in Twilight’s Hopestar Seige celebration. I learned some fascinating things about ancient unicorn delicacies.” She levitated out two more handkerchief’s to mop the fog of her breath off the glass. “History is so romantic.”
Spike’s spines perked up and his eyes widened. “Oh? Really? What did you find out?”
“Well, Princess Platinum won the hearts of her seven barbarian mates by catching a ‘two-legged deer’ and serving it up for dinner. It was a kind of clever, bipedial, omnivorous monster from the dawn of ponydom that went extinct just before the founding of Equestria.”
Spike’s slit pupils widened. He folded his claws together and thumped his tail. “You’re saying that one of these deers was enough to make proud unicorns fall in love with her?” His tail drooped and he frowned. “Wait, unicorns eat deers?”
“Oh no, Spike, two-legged deer is just a euphemism. These animals weren’t even ungulates, and they didn’t play any useful role the way cows and sheep do.” She laughed and patted him with her tail. Spike’s heart skipped a few beats and he struggled to stay upright. “Don’t worry Spikey-wikey, I’m not a monster.”
“Well, duh. I know that!" Spike forced out a chuckle. He looked around and leaned in close. This could be his big chance.
"Out of curiousity, where did you read about these not-deers?” Spike said, shifting his feet nervously.
“Pages thirty-nine to forty-five of Princeff Platinum'f Booke of Royale Recipef for Fpeciale Celebrationf. It’s nice to find somebody else with a passion for pre-Celestia history.”
Spike grinned and nodded. “That’s me, Mister Passionate.”
Rarity nodded, but then bolted after the groaning cart piled with one quarter of her weight in chocolates, pastries, and candy.
Spike sighed.
“Sooo, what brings my favorite baby dragon to my favorite place to serve sweets?” Pinkie Pie asked, popping up as if by magic. "Do you want some edible-gold dust colored candy castles, or a sapphire cupcake, or some fresh-out-of-the-oven gingerbread humans?"
“Oh,” he said, rubbing the hearts from his eyes. “I just wondered if you could fix up a gem cake for me.”
“Okey-Dokey Loki,” Pinkie Pie said. “I’ll have to--“
“I’ve got most of the ingredients,” Spike said, handing over a vat of batter and a recipe book. “You just need to add the gems and cook it.”
“Golly-wolly Saint Martin’s Folly, why do you need us if you’ve got everything here?” Pinkie Pie asked, tilting her head upside-down.
“Don’t ask,” Spike groaned, “It’s just too painful.”
“Well, the customer is always right!” Pinkie said.
“Hmm, two-legged deer,” Spike mused. He licked his eyeballs and cackled sinisterly.
“And try not to cackle so sinisterly,” Pinkie Pie said. “Evil laughter is really bad for the mocha soufflé.”