//------------------------------// // 30. Not With A Bang, But A Whimper // Story: Scootaloo the Fugitive // by Kaidan //------------------------------// The day was passing too quickly for Scootaloo. Her day of stunt flying with Dash and the Wonderbolts was nearly over. For once in her life there was no villain, no adversity to rain on her parade. She had spent that day in bliss. Even the return of Gilda, a gryphon looking to amend her friendship with a childhood friend, could not dampen her spirits. They were to meet her for dinner later and swap stories. Scootaloo wished she could crusade instead. She still wanted her cutie mark more than anything. Scootaloo was flying along, not paying attention to where she was headed. Fate chose that moment to put a falcon in her flight path. The falcon, diving down to catch a field mouse, hit Scootaloo, gaining momentum for a stunt. The two creatures collided with a sickening crack. Scootaloo never saw it coming, and tumbled limp towards the earth. After a couple seconds, her inner ear adjusted to the fall. She closed her eyes, feeling the air around her, and flared her wings. She pulled out of the tumble in time to avoid serious injury. Unfortunately, fate again had different plans. An oak tree at the edge of the clearing chose that moment to swerve in front of Scootaloo. The world went black as the falcon-sized bruise on her forehead collided with the oak tree. “Hmm. . . pony?” Oh Celestia that hurts. I feel like I’m gonna vomit. “Wakey wakey pony” Ugh, is that Gilda or something? Who talks like that? “Hmm, I think we broke the pony” Hmm, remember Dash’s training. Hind legs? Check. Fore legs? check. Wings? Scootaloo gasped in pain, bringing her a little closer to being fully aware. Negative. Feels like a nasty sprain. “Look, Sledge, you fixed the pony!” Ribs? Scootaloo inhaled deeply. Check. Sore but not broken. Neck? She gingerly rolled her neck around, slowly to ensure if she had broken something she would not sever her spinal cord. Thank Celestia, that impact could have broken my neck. Head. . .ugh, throbbing like the dickens, so I’m alive. “What do you mean I have to feed it and give it a bath? It’s just a filthy pony!” Wait, just a filthy pony? Scootaloo opened her eyes, they teared up immediately. She waited as they slowly adjusted, filtering out the blurry shapes to replace them with dull browns and greys. “Well, Boss, I don’t see why I should have to do it!” the voice whined. “Because I’m pack alpha, Sledge, and if you want to see one of the pack females ever again, you’ll shut up and do as I say,” Boss ordered. “Hmph. Stupid ponies don’t need to be clean to haul carts.” That accent, carts. . . Rarity. This all seems so familiar, something Sweetie Belle had told her about Rarity. Something poked Scootaloo in the rib. She flinched slightly. The dog accidently stepped on her wing in the process, inadvertently digging his gnarled claws into a pressure point on her wing. “Gah!” Scootaloo screamed, rolling over to shield her wing. She put her legs beneath her, shakily rising to a sitting position. The room was still spinning and her ears began to ring. She had done quite a number on herself. “Uh. . . sorry pony, boss says I got to clean you up, make sure you don’t go in a coma. No, boss doesn’t like ponies who can’t work.” The sudden urge to cough filled Scootaloo. She hacked up a bit of phlegm, and wiped it off her lips. She noticed it was tinged with blood. “Hmm, very lucky pony, or very unlucky pony, Sledge still not sure. Sledge find pony in the upper levels, where the Sun Queen lives, oh yes.” “I. . . what?” Scootaloo mumbled. “Concussion, Sledge thinks. Very bad bump on head, seen happen in cave ins. I felt very bad, I did. Brought you to bandage wounds, but boss says only good pony is slave pony, yes. Boss wants me to make you all better to work in mines. Sledge is sad, but at least pony will live now.” She swallowed back some bile in her throat, resisting the urge to vomit. It made her notice how dry her throat had become. The reality of her situation began to click into place. High speed impact to head, concussion, injured wings. Unable to escape. Underground, trapped with Diamond Dogs. What did Dash say about high speed crashes? “If you hit your head hard and feel nauseous and drowsy, don’t go to sleep! You could have a concussion, and if you sleep you’ll go in a coma.” Scootaloo let out a frustrated moan. I don’t wanna deal with this crap right now. I’m so tired, and that whole sleep idea is sounding really good. . . Scootaloo closed her eyes and laid her head on her hooves. A sharp claw poked into her side, deliberately aiming for a large, purple bruise. “Pony isn’t allowed to go to sleep, Sledge thinks pony knows it had concussion. Last time pony refused to work, Boss threw them away. Sad, quite sad, such a friendly pony. Always laughed at my jokes, she did, thought I was nice dog not like the others.” Scootaloo licked her lips. “Water?” “Oh, yes, must remember manners. Ponies like manners, and happy ponies pull carts better than sick ponies.” A dog bowl is slid to the floor in front of her. Ignoring the fact he wants Scootaloo to drink like a dog, how ironic, she dove right in. The fetid water hits her tongue and Scootaloo instantly regrets it. As the aftertaste begins to fade, she realizes the slightly tainted water is probably the best she’ll get. After all, the diamond dogs drink it and it hasn’t made them blind. “Very good. Pony can rest now, yes, but not sleep. I’m forced to sit here, Sledge must guard pony ‘til all better, but it’s okay. Boss was going to make me clean latrines, trenches get full and new ones must be made.” The thought of a trench full of. . . that. . . finally sends Scootaloo over the edge. After creating a small puddle of vomit, she slides away from it towards the wall. She manages a lazy circle, sizing up the perfect spot to lay down. She makes it half-way to laying down before flopping over in exhaustion. Scootaloo pulls her wings and hooves in and begins to realize how cold the cave is. “Oh, yes, Sledge remembers now. Ponies not like cold, get shock. Shock bad, shock make ponies sicker. I have blanket here somewhere, but pony promise not to tell Boss. Pack makes fun of Sledge, says Sledge is a pony lover, because Sledge forced to guard and make ponies all feel better.” “Sledge doesn’t like being made fun of, but Sledge help ponies because they’re usualy nice. Only bit me once, after Boss broke her wing for trying to fly away, he did.” Scootaloo manages a week smile when she sees a blanket carried over to her by the diamond dog. “T-thank y-you,” she whispers. “I w-wont t-tell. . .d-dogs.” “Your welcome, little pony. Sledge likes the nice ponies. Sledge has to watch you now, poke your sore spots to wake you up if you fall asleep. I don’t like when Boss makes the ponies stop moving. I have to protect the nice ponies, make Boss proud.” Sledge slumps down against the wall across from Scootaloo and stares at her. She found it unnerving and averted her gaze to the side slightly. Picking a crystal formation on the wall to stare at, she made herself comfortable under the scratchy blanket. As soon as her doctor and captor says it’s okay, she plans to sleep for a week straight. Fate, and Boss, had other plans in mind.