Trotting along the riverbed, Scootaloo continued on toward the changeling hive, with Mercy resting in her mane. She knew she could simply fly there, which would get her to her destination faster, but in the air, she was more likely to be seen. Taking that to consideration, she felt it was best to stick to the ground, hidden beneath the trees.
After a solid three hours of trotting through the eerie forest, Mercy ascended from her mane, and flew off course. Scootaloo raised a brow and watched him fly into the darkness through the thick woods of the Everfree Forest.
“Mercy, why do you fly off like that on me?” she grumbled and trotted after him. Entering the thicker part of the forest, she followed the flying mammal, and she froze when she heard growls in the depths of the woods. Slowly turning her neck, she tried to figure out where the sounds were coming from. She remained silent for a brief moment, but heard nothing. “Alright, Mercy,” she called to him quietly with a timid voice, “I don’t think taking this route was such a great idea. Maybe we should turn back?”
Looking ahead, she continued following him. Mercy wasn’t flying all that fast, enough so that she could keep up. After a couple minutes of wandering through the skeleton trees beneath the deathly green clouds, they came across an old hollowed tree. Scootaloo squinted and trotted up to it curiously. “Hey… I know this place.” It was in rough shape from obvious changeling encounters, but it was still exactly how she remembered it. Mercy flew back down into her mane, and she cautiously approached the wooden door to the hut built within the hollowed tree. Placing her hoof on the doorway, she pushed it open, and it creaked as it slowly swung inwards on old rusty hinges.
Stepping inside, she felt a nervous lump in her throat that she had to swallow. “Hello?” she murmured, turning her neck, “Zecora…?” The room was vacant, and left with a mess. Zecora’s brewing cauldron had been tipped on its side, and spilled across the floor was a dried up green stain from a decade old recipe. Her collection of masks were scattered and broken, and old dried up herbs spread across the floor. Trotting further inside, she spotted something in the far corner, accompanied by broken boards from shelving that were once held up on the wall.
Lying there in a heap in the corner were several cork sealed vials of different sizes, containing multiple coloured liquids. Intrigued by this discovery, she trotted over to the corner and reached under the cracked boards, and gathered whatever she could collect. Scooping them up into a pile on the floor, she sat on her flank and examined each potion. “I wonder if they’re still good…” she murmured, checking their labels that were tied to the necks of the bottles. “Hmm, this one could be useful,” she read a label, and found an expiry date in the bottom right corner. “Huh, good for another two years,” she exclaimed, but her ears fell to her sides after remembering it’s been ten years since this bottle was sealed, making the expiration of the potion eight years ago. “Ugh…” Rolling her eyes, she separated the potions into different organized piles, one specifically for expired bottles. She reached for another and read the label. “More effective as it ages…” She grinned and set it aside on another pile.
After separating and organizing many of the small vials of liquids, Scootaloo heard that growl again coming from the exterior of the hut. Her ears folded back, and she glanced over to the window. She kept her stare on the window for at least two minutes, frozen in place, waiting for the sound again—she heard nothing. Mercy kept still and silent in her mane.
Sighing nervously, Scootaloo turned back to the vials and continued separating them. It only took her another couple of minutes to finish organizing the potions, and out of the dozens of bottles, she counted at least fifteen that were still good to use.
Standing to her hooves, she turned around and searched the room for something to carry them with. “Zecora’s gotta have somethin’ useful around here,” she murmured, and her ears perked when she spotted a simple leather saddlebag hanging on a hook on the wall, which was covered in cobwebs. She trotted over to the wall and took the saddlebag, brushing the webs and dust away from it before she threw it onto her back.
Scootaloo trotted back to the vials, and she began carefully picking the good ones up and placing them gently into her bags, the glass clinging together as she filled them up evenly on both sides. Leaving the expired vials behind, she continued her search throughout Zecora’s hut in case she missed anything else that she could find a use for.
Opening drawers and inspecting cupboards that were still upright, she found a few rags and wooden stir sticks. She took the rags, and though she wasn’t sure where stir sticks would come in handy, she picked them out of the drawer and put them in her saddlebag anyway. There were a few different sized wooden bowls that she took as well.
After at least fifteen minutes of searching the hut, she felt satisfied enough with the few things that she collected. She was especially intrigued by the potions she found. Feeling like she was done in here, she made her way to the exit and stepped back out into the forest, taking a cautious glance to her left and right before trotting out any further. Seeing that the coast was clear, she began trotting back in the direction she came from to find the river. She felt it would be safer traveling along the riverbed than taking her chances in the thicket of Everfree.
Traveling in a quiet, yet hurried pace, she heard another growl in the darkness of the woods, making her freeze in her tracks. She stood still, and very slowly turned her neck to examine her surroundings, and her eyes dilated when she saw what was lurking in the shadows. There in the distant trees was a very large timberwolf, just walking on through the forest. Its maw hung open exposing its serrated teeth, and a translucent green mist escaped its mouth and nostrils as it breathed.
Mercy cowered low into her mane, and Scootaloo kept her timid eyes locked on the mystical wooden beast. She slowly crept in the direction of the river, hoping the terrifying monster couldn’t spot her. She could feel her heart racing as she moved further away from the creature, and eventually the timberwolf turned and began walking in another direction, away from her location.
Scootaloo had to let out a long sigh of relief, and she sat on her flank, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hooves. “Aw, man… They’re even creepier than how Spike described.”
Taking a moment to recollect herself, she decided it would be wise to just fly back to the river from here. Turning away, she flapped her wings and ascended off the ground, and flew low through the trees.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Returning to the river, she landed back on her hooves, and crawled up to the waterbed. Letting out a sigh, she collapsed onto her haunches and dipped her hooves into the stream, splashing water up into her face to cool herself down. “Goddess, I hope I don’t ever see one of those things again,” her voice trembled as she reached into her left saddlebag for a rag, and used it to wipe her face dry.
Shaking herself off, she sat on her flank and turned her neck to look toward the mountain. She stood back onto her hooves, and continued her journey upstream, trotting along the riverbed. Glancing to her right to keep her eyes on the shadows of the forest, she kept a hurried pace.
After a few minutes of further walking, Mercy screeched and flew out of her mane, startling her. Mercy kept still as he hovered in the air, keeping his eyes locked on something not too far up ahead. Scootaloo curiously glanced over to what he was staring at, and there lying in the fog on his back, was a changeling. Her eyes widened, and she jumped when she set eyes on him. Crouching low to the ground to hopefully remain unseen, she kept silent for about a minute before she felt that something was off about the lone changeling simply lying there in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t moving—not an inch.
Scootaloo gulped nervously, and crept closer to the changeling in the descent fog. Once she got close enough, she could make out who it specially was—it was the one who captured her back in Ponyville’s town hall, Flake. She noticed the burn injury on his chest, which made her question the situation even further.
Slowly approaching the downed changeling, she quietly stepped up to him, keeping her head low and her ears curved back. Now standing only a meter away from him, she felt her heart racing as she kept sneaking closer. He appeared to be breathing, but it was very weak. Mercy flew on ahead, and descended next to Flake’s head. Scootaloo’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, whispering to the mammal, “Mercy, no… What’re you doing…?”
He screeched a few inches from the changeling’s face, which made Scootaloo cower. After a delay, Flake slowly opened his turquoise eyes. He blinked slowly a couple of times, and he turned his neck to face her, looking straight up at her with his eyes only half open. She could tell he was very weak. Slowly, his eyes almost involuntarily closed again, and he remained still, breathing quietly and hoarse.
Scootaloo wasn’t about to admit it, but she actually felt pity for the changeling at her hooves. She stood in silence, just staring down at him. He was her enemy, and he was the one who captured her, nearly taking her one and only chance to save her kind away forever, but she knew she couldn’t just leave him here. Not like this.
“What happened…?” she caught herself asking him.
Flake’s eyes clenched and he weakly turned his neck to face the other way. “Go… away…” he croaked between his words.
There was a long moment of silence. Though she felt that she should probably just do as he told and walk away, she didn’t.
“I sa…aid…” he coughed and turned to face her, opening his eyes momentarily to frown at her, “Go aw… away…” Breathing impatiently through his snout, he just glared at her, while she looked back down at him, emotional sorrows stirring in the bottom of her heart. There was a minute long stare between the two, and Flake eventually turned away again and sighed. “Why won’t you just… leave me alone…?” The more he spoke, the rougher his breathing sounded.
Scootaloo wasn’t even sure how to respond to that. Even she was subconsciously asking herself the same question. He was in bad shape—if she just left him here, he was inevitably going to die.
“Ugh…” he groaned and tried to yell. “Go, away!” his holler was hoarse and weak, and didn’t come forth very loud. He plunked his head back into the ground and coughed.
Though he tried to verbally prod her away, she didn’t move; she couldn’t move. While she felt anger and hatred in the back of her subconscious mind toward the changeling, she felt it in every bone in her body that helping him was the right thing to do; the loyal thing to do. Deeply sighing, she turned to her saddlebags and dug through her supplies.
“Leave me… alone,” he croaked impatiently.
After a few moments of searching through her saddlebags, she found what she was looking for, and pulled out a vial with a purple liquid, checking the label to ensure it was the right one. She sighed as she carefully placed the vial on the ground, and she gently pushed it toward the changeling.
“Wha… what is that?” he grumbled ignorantly, “I don’t want your junk.”
“I’m trying to help you.” She rolled her eyes and muttered.
He just looked up at her and winced at that. “And why… would you help me…?”
Scootaloo shrugged. “Because… sometimes, when somepony needs help, we help them,” she murmured, “And right now… you need help.”
“I don’t need your help,” he grumbled and tried kicking the vial away from him, though it only rolled about a foot from his reach from such a weak punt. “I don’t need your crap, and I don’t need you.” Forcing himself to lean up enough just to glare at her, he coughed, “Go. Away.” After repeating himself for the umpteenth time, he dropped back to the ground and exhaled an irate sigh through his snout with his eyes clenched shut.
It became clear that she couldn’t convince him to give in to her aid. Regrettably, she knew there wasn’t much else she could do for him at this point. “Alright…” Scootaloo pitifully sighed. “If you want me to go… I’ll go,” she said in a slow and hurt voice, and slowly pushed the vial back into his reach. “But, please. Take it.”
Flake just frowned at that with his eyelids shut. There were a few moments of silence, and he slowly opened his eyes again, looking up to where Scootaloo stood. However, she wasn’t standing there any more—she had already started walking. Weakly, he turned his neck to see that she was trotting toward the mountain. In that moment, he felt something, though he couldn’t understand it very well—he was new to the feeling. It was a warm and welcoming emotion, unlike anything he has ever experienced back at the hive. There was a part of him that wanted to say something to her—to say thank you—but, his stubbornness kept him silent, and he just let her walk away.
Turning his neck to look at the vial next to his hoof that she left with him, he weakly reached for it and slid it across the ground closer to himself so he could read the label. His lips trembled as he read it, and he gently closed his eyes, and tears trickled out of his closed eyelids—warm and grateful tears.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chrysalis remained silent in her throne room after a long and hectic day. Standing next to a window, she peered out at the wasteland through the green stained glass. During her quiet moment to herself, the doors to the throne room creaked open.
“Your Majesty,” Chitin addressed her at the door, stepping into the room.
The changeling Queen rolled her eyes and she turned to face the captain. “Do you have any news about our situation?”
“I’ve taken care of the imposter,” Chitin exclaimed.
“I see.” She sighed and trotted up closer to him. “How did he take it?”
“Hm...” Chitin put a hoof on his chin and thought of a way to put it. “Let’s just say that Flake won’t be trying that again any time soon.”
“Right. Well good.” she cringed and turned away, “I still can’t believe one of the changelings in the hive tried posing himself as a guard.”
He frowned. “Nor can I.”
“And Daring Do?” She turned back to him in question. “Any updates on her?”
Chitin scratched the back of his head and winced. “Er, well... No, not exactly,” he shamefully admitted, “I nearly had the pony in a cocoon, but Fla—er, she um, jumped into the river, and I lost her.”
Chrysalis caught onto his stutter, and gave him a suspicious look. Not thinking too much of it, she questioned him further. “How do you keep losing her?” she grumbled in a displeased tone, “We’ve never had a problem like this before.”
“I-I don’t know, my Queen,” Chitin stuttered.
There was an awkward pause before Chrysalis began speaking again, “Chitin... Ten years ago, we were capable of capturing every single equine in all of Equestria.” She stood tall and emphasized herself, “Every earth pony, unicorn, pegasus, zebra, and even their princesses... We’ve even managed to capture several cockatrice, some timberwolves, a dragon, a few gryphons, and even an ursa minor,” as she spoke, her voice was rising, “So why, Chitin, can you not capture—let alone keep track of—one, bucking, pony?!”
Chitin could’ve sworn the throne room shook when she shouted those last few words. His eyes widened, and he just stood there, unable to produce any words from his gaping mouth.
Chrysalis pointed to the door, expressing a very disappointed frown. “You’d better find her, Chitin. I’m beginning to lose my patience with you!”
The captain cowered and his ears fell back. “Yes, my Queen...” With that, he turned and galloped back out the door. Chrysalis shook her head and grumbled, trotting back to her throne. Taking a seat, she leaned back and sighed, placing her hoof on her forehead.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scootaloo carried on along the side of the river for about half an hour, keeping her eyes on the mountain ahead of her. Every step she took was a strong stride with purpose. She knew what she had to do when she got there, but how she was going to do it was a whole different story. Trotting along the riverbed, she had lots of time to come up with a plan. She was overwhelmingly outnumbered beyond anything she could compare, and she had one shot at this.
As she kept her strong pace along the river’s shore, she heard a noise in the trees that made her freeze. She cowered and turned her neck to view the dark shadows of Everfree. Staring into the depths of the woods, she heard another growl—the same growl as before. “Aw shoot... C’mon Scoot. Keep walking...” she murmured to herself, creeping along. The growling became louder, and she turned to see a pair of glowing eyes, staring straight at her from the lifeless bushes.
She couldn’t seem to trot any further. She found herself immobilized, with her hooves frozen to the ground out of fear. After what felt like an eternity of staring into those piercing eyes, a timberwolf came charging out straight at her with a fierce growl. Mercy screeched and rose up into the air from her mane.
“Aw, BUCK!” she yelled, and galloped along the ground, with the timberwolf hot on her tail. She watched as Mercy flew up into the air, and he turned back to her as a signal for her to follow. She took a chance and leapt up, and flapping her wings, she ascended away from the beast. Just when she thought she had enough distance in the air from her predator, it leapt up at her, and swatted her right out of the air. She hurtled back down into the thick fog, and crashed painfully in the dirt, rolling to a stop against a tree.
Scootaloo arched her back from the pain, and held her hoof where it stung. The moment she opened her eyes, the timberwolf was the first thing she saw, creeping up to her with its gaping maw and green mist emanating from its breath. She turned her neck in a panic, and tried standing, then something else in her peripheral vision caught her eye. She quickly turned to it, and saw another timberwolf off in the distance, charging in her direction. Her pupils dilated, and she was quick to stand and run, adrenaline racing through her veins.
Galloping off into the forest, she leapt up into the air to try to ascend again, but she felt a pinch in her left wing, and she fell back down to the ground with a thud. “Agh BUCK, not again!”
The first timberwolf came charging up close to her, and the second was closing in too. To her surprise, it struck down the first timberwolf. Her eyes shot wide open, and she stood up, backing away from the two fighting over her. Scootaloo wasn’t sure what to do, and she sidestepped closer to the river. Maybe—just maybe—she could get away, and let the two distracted beasts fight. She watched as they pounced and bit each other.
The second timberwolf was knocked onto its side, and the first turned to face her, and began charging after her again. She turned tail and ran, galloping harder than she knew her legs could ever allow. “Celestia, help me!” she shrieked. Just as the timberwolf reached her, the other one came back, and jumped right on top of the one chasing her. She turned for a brief moment to watch, then decided it wasn’t worth it, and kept running. She heard a loud clash of splintering wood, and she had to turn and see what had just happened. The second timberwolf had ripped the first one’s forelimb clean off in its jaw, hurled it off into the trees, and kept him pinned while ripping more and more chunks off of the wooden beast while it howled in pain.
Scootaloo was watching this while she galloped away from the scene, and wasn’t paying attention to where she was running. She turned to look ahead, just in time to see a branch right in front of her, and crashed into it snout first. “OGH!!” The impact sent her flipping backwards, and she crashed onto her back on the ground. She coughed and wiped her snout with the back of her hoof, drawing a little blood from the impact with the branch. Cringing, she pulled herself back up onto her flank, and she turned to see that the second timberwolf had completely ripped apart the first one into splinters. It was now jogging toward her at a terrifying pace.
The last hope for ponykind got to her hooves, and kept galloping away from the beast. The timberwolf sprinted after her, and leapt up into the air, landing on top of her, pinning her by her back. Hyperventilating, she scraped at the ground with her hooves, trying to pull herself free from the creature. It growled from over her head, and then to her surprise, he slowly stood off of her, and backed away.
Scootaloo scrambled to her hooves and turned to face the beast, wide-eyed. She froze, seeing that the timberwolf was sitting there, just looking at her. But he wasn’t attacking.
Terrified, Scootaloo stood frozen, and they exchanged a long stare. Then something happened that made her jump back, but she kept watching. A green flare engulfed the beast, and she watched in disbelief as it began to magically change form from the neon fire. Slowly the flames faded away, and a familiar changeling was replaced by the fierce timberwolf, and her eyes widened.
She was lost for words, staring at the changeling before her. There was a very long stare between the two. After they exchanged glares, Flake held up an empty vial in his hoof, and awkwardly read the label. “Apply to cuts, burns or bites. Do not consume, for it may cause plights.” He looked at her with a raised brow in question.
“Uh... yeah.” Scootaloo scratched the back of her head. “Zecora has this... rhyming problem.”
Flake put the vial down at his hooves, and they kept their eyes on each other from a distance.
“Why...?” Scootaloo finally asked.
He shrugged. “Sometimes... when somepony needs help... we help them.”
Scootaloo could only smile in response.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Many thanks to these gentlecolts:
Proofreading and Editing done by The Princess Luna and David Hasselhoof.
Prereading and other Assistance by Morfonious.