//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: A Feather in the Wind // by Ghosttown Brony //------------------------------// Chapter 3                 The sun had dipped below the range of hills, flooding the orchard in night.  It wasn’t dark though.  It rarely was on sweet apple acres.  Between the light of the moon and stars, and the fireflies dancing between the trees, the only time it was difficult to see was during the winter months.  The orchard was much more beautiful at night in Scootaloos opinion.  It’s much easier to appreciate something when you can’t see all of it.              Apple Bloom let out a wide yawn, which she didn’t even bother to cover.  Sweetie Belle echoed, though with more subtlety, and Scootaloo couldn’t help but yawn as well.  A sudden tiredness hit her like a brick and she felt about ready to fall asleep on the spot.  “We should probably head back down, before Granny Smith starts to worry,” Apple Bloom said, voicing her thoughts.  “Besides I’m about ready to hit the hay.”  Sweetie and Scootaloo mumbled agreements and after a stretch and another yawn they made their way tiredly down the hillside.  The trip down the hill was faster still despite them being tired.              Scootaloo trailed behind Sweetie with Apple Bloom leading the march.  The Pegasus couldn’t help but notice how quite they were on their way down.  Everypony seemed deep in their own thoughts.  She was ok with that though.  It had been a very quiet day, which is what made it so memorable.  Before she knew it the ground had leveled out beneath her hooves and she was forced to say good-bye to Apple Bloom.  “We’ll hang out again tomorrow again right?” she asked sleepily.  “Of course.” Sweetie Belle said gently and Scootaloo nodded in agreement.  “I can’t wait to tell Applejack what I did today,” she said turning towards the farmhouse, smiling.  “Good night gals!” she called behind her back.  “Good-night!” they repeated, reflecting her smile.  Sweetie Belle turned and began to walk towards Ponyville and began humming another tune.  Scootaloo lingered beneath the Apple trees a moment longer, watching the farm-filly walk away.  Then she turned and followed the little unicorn along the trail leading back to the main road.              Even though it wasn’t completely dark, there were some spots between the trunks of trees where the light didn’t reach, where the blackness seemed to almost grow and she became unsettled.  The little Pegasus was glad Sweetie Belle was with her and her melodies seemed to keep the darkness at bay as they walked.  They reached the fence marking the end of the Apple property and turned left towards town, when Sweetie Belle abruptly stopped humming and asked “So what was the matter with you on the hill?”  Scootaloos hope that she hadn’t remembered had been dashed and she was so taken aback by the suddenness of the question, she couldn’t even come up with a good lie.  “What are you talking about?” she asked trying to sound nonchalant, but not looking up.  “You’re such a terrible liar,” Sweetie laughed which hurt Scootaloo a little.   “You were crying up there on the hill, tough filly.”  She said nudging her with her foreleg.  Scootaloo knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, just trying to lighten up the mood, but it hurt her pride a little anyway.  “I told you there was something in my eye.” She said quietly, still not looking up.  Sweetie quit giggling and stopped walking for a moment.  The little Pegasus trotted on.  She heard Sweetie Belle run to catch up and felt her put her foreleg on her back.  Scootaloo looked up and saw genuine concern in her friends face.  Her green eyes stared through her.  “I’m sorry,” she said “I didn’t mean-” “No it’s fine.  I’m fine.” she said, no longer angry but eager to drop the subject.  Sweetie Belle was not.  “Hey its ok you can tell me,” she said, all hint of joviality gone from her voice.  “Are you okay?  Are you in trouble?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “So there is something wrong!” “Yes.” She said beginning to become frustrated “Then tell me,” Sweetie Belle pleaded. “I don’t want to.” She repeated “Why?”  Scootaloo stopped.  Why?  Why couldn’t she tell her?  Why did she keep it locked away inside her?  For some reason thoughts of her past made her feel shameful.  What she had to be ashamed of, she couldn’t figure out, but that’s what it felt like.  Was she going to hold on to this forever? If she couldn’t tell Sweetie Belle, she couldn’t tell anypony. She was the first pony she ever called friend.  Sweetie stared at her with piercing green eyes that seemed to reflect her own sorrow.  She wanted to know.  She wanted to help.  Scootaloo remembered the day she first met her unicorn friend.   The weather in Cloudsdale had completely turned around.  The stinging, painful wind from the night had been replaced with still but smoldering air.  The city came to life before her eyes.  She had left the emptiness of the old district, a place stuck in time, to busy city streets.  Ponies literally flew about the city on their daily errands or of on their way to work.  Some took to walking in order to avoid the heavy air traffic and created quite a nuisance to Scootaloo who had no choice but keep her hooves on the cloud.  All the grown mares and stallions pushed her from every angle, paying her no mind except some times to become angry and yell at her.  The little filly had rarely ever seen the streets so busy and pretty soon the problematic traffic became unbearable.  She thought taking the Business district, which was the most direct route would get her to the carriage depot the fastest but with so many ponies bustling about, it wasn’t only slow but near impossible to make it more than a couple of feet every minute.              Of course if she could fly all these problems could have been avoided.  Her wings unfurled and folded again, like they always did when she thought about being held at gravity’s mercy.  A very well dressed stallion collided with her head-on and she fell to the ground tripping many pedestrians in the process.  In the commotion many curses and violent promises were made and Scootaloo fled with open wings through an alley to the less populated parts of the city.  When she came out the other end there was such a release from her former claustrophobia, that she almost felt happy.  But with a glance at a street sign, she found there was no way to the depot from here.  She noticed her wings were still extended and closed them with a blush.  With hoof traffic lessened, she easily made her way to another alleyway.  She knew the layouts of most of the alleys pretty well from all her late night escapes.  And aside from the main streets, shortcuts like these were the only fast way to the depot without completely circling the city.  And she wasn’t very trusting of the outer edges of the city anymore, for personal reasons.  Worse still, taking that route would involve walking past her old house.  Scootaloo had already made a silent promise never to return to that place again.  Plus it was entirely possible her father now sober realized he’d kicked his ten year old daughter out and social services could be pulling up to fine him.  Which as humorous as it would be to see him struggle to pay the fine, he would more than likely hit her.  Hard.  So she continued down the alley ways and neglected regions of the city.  As she did so it struck her how alone she really was.  The old mares blanket like wing had provided her with comfort in the moment, but it was lost now and right back where she started, scurrying around the city to avoid her father.  She was alone again.  Then suddenly she wasn’t.  In her thoughts she hadn’t realised she’d been picking up speed, to the point where she was almost sprinting.  And as she subliminally sprinted through the alleys she crashed into a colt.  The collision had knocked them both to the ground, and left Scootaloo with swimming vision for a couple seconds.  Both ponies stood and stared for a moment. He was almost a stallion, maybe sixteen years old. His coat was green, as was his mane was though it was darker.  His look absolutely screamed “street dweller” and she instantly became wary.  He was covering the path that Scootaloo needed to go.  “I’m sorry,” she stammered “I-I wasn’t looking a-and-” she stopped as she realised the colt wasn’t looking at her; he was eyeing her saddle bag.  She knew the streets and she knew what was happening. She extended her wings to cover her saddle bag.  “So,” she said with a low voice “If you could just move over I’ll be on my way.”  The little filly could tell by his face he wasn’t listening at all.  “What’s in the saddle bag filly?” he asked.  His voice had the rasp of a smoker.  “Nothing for you.” She said adding a bit of a bite to her words.  It was like a game.  She’d had to do this once before with another mugger, but it was a filly, a lot closer to her age.  She knew this had to be done a certain way.  She had to show that nopony should mess with her, but she couldn’t become hostile or insult them or else she’d risk angering them.  Mugger’s etiquette.  “Oh I’m sure I could find use for something in there.” He said licking his lips grossly.  Ok his thoughts were on the saddle bag not on her which was good news, in case things went south.  “I’m just delivering mail.” She said.  It was a solid excuse.  She wasn’t wearing any uniform but post companies would often let young ponies carry mail in exchange for meager amounts of money, no questions asked.  It was a way for ponies like her to make money, and she’d done it before but she rarely ever needed money.  The green colt clearly didn’t believe her, she could tell by his tone.  “Well than just give me the address and I can carry it the rest of the way.” “Look mister-” “No you look filly,” he said, his tone turned dark. “I’m tired of these games.  I could hear bits clinking in your saddle bag when you ran.  So how ‘bout you just give me those bits and you can even keep the bag.  One time offer.” He put on his winning smile of slightly crooked and very yellow teeth.  She knew this was the best offer she was likely to get and she even considered it.  She would be able to keep the picture, and her saddle bag was essential.  But she knew she couldn’t give up those bits.  She spent years collecting them wherever she could and even if she delivered letters for the next year, she wouldn’t be able to make them all back.  And carriage rides weren’t free. She bent forward and extended her wings.  “No deal.”  His smile faded.  “Alright then,” he growled imitating her stance.  He figured she would take off.  “Just remember, you brought this on yourself.”  She extended her forelegs and jumped with a flourish of her wings.  The colt took off expecting to intercept her midflight, leaving the alleyway open.  She was running before she landed.  She knew her ploy wasn’t going to last long and sure enough after a short head start, a shadow loomed over her.  He wasn’t landing.  Consciously sprinting through the maze of backstreets was as confusing as it was difficult.  White cloud roads surrounded by white cloud buildings that blurred as she ran.  Sometimes she ran straight into the walls but she recovered fast.  She’d gotten stuck in a system of back roads with many exits but also many ways for her to turn back on herself.  All the while her pursuers shadow stayed over her.  Occasionally he would dip down to try and catch her but she was too fast, and he would slam into the cloud with a grunt.  She ran faster than she thought she could but after a minute and no signs of an exit her sides felt like they were going to explode, and the heavy saddle bag slamming against her with each step didn’t help either.  She turned a sharp left and hit the wall, knocking the breath from her, and the green colt dived again.  She jumped out of the way with not an inch to spare and he flew straight through the cloud wall, much to the alarm of the patrons inside. On she ran and after a couple more turns she saw a busy street and knew she was home free.  Then he shot though another wall and tackled her.   She tried to stand up and was pulled back. She had to fight for literally for every step, kicking and screaming and cursing as he grappled with her and tried to pull of her saddle bag.  He got a solid bite on the straps and tried to pull but she held it in place with her wings.  She swung around and smashed him on the nose with her foreleg and he rolled off.  She bolted onto the busy street.  There hadn’t ever been a time when she was happier around the busy pegasi of Cloudsdale.   She looked back at the alley and saw him standing there covering his bleeding nose and she felt satisfied.  There was such a dark look in his eyes it chilled her but she knew he wouldn’t dare try that again around all these ponies.  Scootaloos breath came in great heaves and her entire midsection hurt. But pain was something she was used to and she had such an adrenaline rush it was easy to ignore it.  For a little while.  She would definitely not chance the backstreets anymore but it didn’t matter much because the street she ended up on could take her right to her destination.  It still took while to get there because of all the hoof traffic but she was thankful for all the eyes around her. Still though she made quite a racket in that alley but nopony even glanced her way.  But that didn’t matter either way because in a few minutes she would be gone.  The carriage depot was a very run down establishment and it showed its age.  Scootaloo could tell that business was slow, and that wasn’t very surprising because out of all the ponies, pegasi had the easiest time getting around, so the only ones who needed carriages were the rich and lazy who refused to do anything for themselves, or special cases like her.  There were three carriages parked in of the depot each for a different type of customer.  The most expensive one was made partly of gold, intricately designed and had a closed roof.  The lowest end carriage was basically a large wagon made of half rotten wood.  The driver of that cart was a scruffy looking stallion with a wild mane, stubble growing under his muzzle and a bored look in his eyes.  Scootaloo shuffled slowly towards his vehicle slowly looking down. She hated talking to strangers.  “Lookin’ for a ride kid?” he asked with a gruff voice.  She gave a little nod.  “You got money to pay for it?”  She nodded again.  “Well hop in then.  I should warn you though; this old beast can only make it so far, so you can either go to Manehatten or Ponyville.  You okay with that?            She found a voice “How much?” “Twenty-five bits, for either of them.” He answered.  Ouch, she thought.  “Which one would you suggest?  Which city i mean.”  I dunno,” he said with an annoyed sigh “Manehatten ain’t so different from here ‘cept it’s on the ground o’course. Ponyvilles some back water town out in the middle of nowhere, but folk there are friendly, and they have plenty of colourful characters.”  She’d already made up her mind when he said Manehatten was like Cloudsdale.  She wanted to get as far away from this place as possible, and if Ponyville was as remote as he said, maybe her dad wouldn’t find her.  “I guess I’ll go to Ponyville.” she answered “Alright then hop in.” He said again.  The cart was obviously made for somepony to fly into it as it was quite difficult to climb in and had no door to open.  She used the spokes on the wheel to toss herself in and got settled onto a seat.  It was small and uncomfortable, and probably only able to hold one grown pony, but it fit her fine.  The driver raised an eyebrow, after watching her struggle into the cart.  “What’s the matter kid?  Can’t a filly your age fly?” he asked with a smirk.  “No.” She said simply.  She expected more questions but instead he instantly dropped his smirk and just said “oh.  Well just give me the word and I’ll take off.”              It was right then the reality of the situation hit her.  She was going to be flying.  Not with her own wings but she was going to leave the Cloud and defy gravity.  The idea made her queasy.  “I’m ready.”  The stallion reared and began at a slow trot but quickly built up speed to a full on sprint, at full speed with wings spread.  They were headed right for the edge of the cloud layer.  She tensed and instinctively spread her own wings even though it was a fruitless gesture.  The edge was approaching fast.  Twenty feet.  Did I make a mistake?  Ten feet. I made a mistake.  Five feet.  She closed her eyes expecting to feel herself being pulled towards the ground again, like earlier that morning.  But when she felt nothing she opened her eyes and to her panic and wonder the air around her was completely open.  She was flying.  The thought made her want to retch. The wind tore at her mane and she knew that below the inch thick boards beneath her was nothing but the ground, so far away.  She wondered in that moment why she’d always wanted to fly so badly.  It was a very uncomfortable experience.  The driver looked back and must have seen her discomfort.  “You okay kid?”  She couldn’t even nod.  “So why’s a young filly like you trying to leave the big city all alone anyway?” he asked.  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She said flatly.  “Oh so it’s parents trouble then.” He said looking forwards again.   “How did you know?” she said trying to keep herself together.  “’Cause I did the same thing when I was a colt.  My dad was a very violent stallion and when he even bothered to come home, he hit me and my mom with a hard hoof or whatever was layin’ around.  Mom was too drunk to defend herself, let alone me, so I always made him mad so I’d get the worst of it.  Eventually I had enough so I hit him back and left.  What’s your story?”  Scootaloo was horrified by the stallion’s story, despite its similarity to her own situation.  She wondered if dad had ever hit her mother.  The though infuriated her.  She didn’t remember her mother very well, not even what her voice was like, but some of her earliest memories were of lying down on a cloud with her mother stroking her mane.  If she closed her eyes and thought hard she could almost remember her warmth against her body.  She missed her.  The driver seemed to have decent intentions though and he told his story so she might as well tell hers. She gave him the short version.   “I would come home from a day of bullying and foals laughing at me, to a father too drunk to stand, and if he was even awake he would yell at me and make fun of me and...hit me” she looked away.    “Wow.  I didn’t think anypony was enough of a coward to hit a little filly.” He said  “You know if you want I could gather up a few friends and show up at his place to teach him a lesson.”  Scootaloo giggled, but when she looked up the stallion was wearing a serious expression.  “No,” she said quickly “I’ve had enough violence.  I just want to get as far from here as possible.”  “I know that feelin’.” He said and he was quiet for a bit.  Scootaloo got the nerve to look over the edge. The ground passed slowly beneath the cart and she could see rolling fields and rivers. “You know, my brother was like you.  One of them pegasi that can’t fly.” “How did you know I can’t fly?” she asked, surprised. “You can tell a lot about ponies if you pay attention.  It doesn’t work all the time, but most times.  Sorry did I offend ya?”  “No it’s okay.  I was just born this way.  Doctors said I might be able to get a few feet of air when I’m older but it’s unlikely.  I didn’t know there was anypony else who couldn’t fly.” “Oh it’s more common than most folks think.  My parents hated the kid.  They never paid him any attention and never told our neighbours about him.  I was all he had. I loved him though. He was a great artist, loved to paint anything he could get is hooves on.  Paper,  the walls, the clouds in the yard.”  He chuckled.  “He turned our backyard into a canvass.  He liked to draw mom and dad. They were always smiling in the pictures.”  “Where is he now?” she asked.  “Did he become an artist?”  She liked to hear about other ponies finding their talents, since she was still a blank flank. “Um no,” he said smile fading. “He umm... died when he was eight.”  “Oh.” Scootaloo mumbled.  She definitely didn’t expect that “I’m sorry.” “Why it wasn’t your fault?  He fell off the edge trying to catch a painting that blew away.”   His voice became choked.  Scootaloo had never seen a grown up cry before.  “I was the only one that cried at his funeral, and when we got back they erased all his paint from the backyard and threw out his paper paintings.  They forgot about the one that blew away though, and I found it.  I always keep it with me for good luck.”  There was a single tear running down his face.  Scootaloo felt about ready to cry herself.  “I think it’s a good idea you’re leaving the city kid.  It’s a dangerous place, and not because of the height.”  Scootaloo found herself hanging on the front of the cart so she could sit next to the driver.  When his story was done she just sat down.  “It’ll be another twenty minutes before we touch down.” He said, emotion gone from his voice.  As she waited it dawned on Scootaloo how terrible things were for some ponies.  She was a Pegasus who couldn’t fly, but even she was better off than some ponies.  She wondered about what the driver had said.   The city’s a dangerous place and not because of the height.  She thought about asking him but she had a feeling he wouldn’t explain it.   After some time an unfamiliar sensation made the filly jump.  The carriage rocked and shuddered as it hit something solid.  She looked over the edge and saw ground.  No longer miles below but within reach of her hoof.  They were gliding along a trail of stones.  She walked to the front and looked out to see a town.  Colourful buildings were scattered about and made of solid wood and stone.  The distant shapes of ponies of many colours and races walked about.  There were unicorns and earth ponies there.  She’d never seen other kinds of ponies before.  The driver’s hooves could be heard as he galloped on the stones and with each step they slowed a little.  Eventually they came to a stop just in front of a sign made of wood that simply read ‘Ponyville’.  She got out of the cart and was shocked to feel solid earth beneath her hooves.  So this is what ground feels like.  It was odd.  You didn’t sink into it like clouds, and her steps were as wobbly as a newborn’s. The driver was breathing heavily and she could imagine why.  It must be difficult to pull something so heavy while flying.  And after hearing the stallion’s story she didn’t feel so upset about the fee.  She swung her saddle bag off to get the bits when the driver said “No keep your bits.” She looked up to him and his eyes seemed not quite as... bored.  He was even smiling. “I have more than enough to pay you, it’s really no trouble.” “You know,” he said “I’ve been pulling that cart for almost fifteen years now and not once has anypony acknowledged I was there, let alone trade stories with an old pony like me. I think talking with you was payment enough.” Scootaloo was speechless.  This was the kindest thing anypony had ever done for her (short of saving her life). “Thank you very much-” she realized she didn’t know his name. “Storm Chaser.” He finished for her.  And the pleasure was mine miss,” he waited for her name.  “Scootaloo.” “That’s a lovely name kid.” He said.  Storm Chaser brought his cart around to take off but before he did he said “I know what I told you, about the city being dangerous and such, but if you ever come back I’d appreciate seeing you again.” He coughed, knowing his proposition sounded a bit creepy.  Every filly in school knew not to except favours from strange stallions but she could tell that Storm Chaser had nothing but the best intentions. “I’d love too.”  “Well then, I hope you find what you’re looking for Miss Scootaloo.” “You too.” she said smiling with happiness for the first time in a while.  The old stallion returned the smile and took off.             Scootaloo watched him for a while until he disappeared from sight.  She spun around to face the town of Ponyville.  She was about to enter the town when she heard a noise from the trees to her left.  Some pony was grunting.  She was confused at first. Was this normal on the ground?  Everything down here was so different and solid that she felt just overwhelmed.  Curiosity got the better of her as she peeked through the trees to find to source of the noise.  It wasn’t difficult.  Only a couple of feet in a white filly was struggling to push very sizable boulder onto the main road. Scootaloo walked a little closer and was pleasantly suprised to find she was a unicorn.  She’d never seen one up close before.  She was very pretty; her mane had two shades in it, one pink one purple. It took the unicorn a moment to notice her and when she did, she nearly jumped out of her skin.  “Ah!” she squealed, voice squeaking.  “You scared me!” “Oh umm sorry.”  said Scootaloo meekly.  The unicorn didn’t seem all that upset.  In fact she seemed glad she was there.  “It’s okay just... hey umm would you mind helping me with this rock?  I need to get it to my sister but its pretty heavy.” The unicorn looked at her with bright green eyes, shaded beautifully in the sunlight. “Umm sure.”  She said not sure what else to do.  Why did the filly want to give her sister a rock?  She walked around to the other side without voicing her question, and began to push with her. The rock was about the size of the two fillies and as heavy as it look.  “Oh I’m Sweetie Belle, by the way.” The filly said, between grunts.  “I’m new here.” “I’m Scootaloo,” she said, pushing against the rock with her soon to be friend.  “I’m new too.”