A Father’s Support by StarSlinger
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“Blank flank! Blank flank!”
The two pranced around the third. With tiara and glasses glinting in the afternoon light, the two fillies seemed oblivious to the gusty, cold wind and constant hail pelting their matching forest-green hooded ponchos, so joyful they were with tormenting their prey.
Scootaloo, meanwhile, in a dark-red hooded poncho of her own, continued to crawl forward, eyes firmly pointed to the ground in front of her. Her scooter, usually a source of speed and freedom for her, was now being used merely as a crutch, supporting her hind right leg, which was completely encased in a heavy plaster cast. Her right wing was also in a lighter cast, strapped tightly to her body. Tightly gripping the handle bars of her scooter, it was taking all of Scootaloo’s concentration to keep her balance on the increasingly slippery path. The fact that she now had two tormenters prancing around her was not helping.
Feeling her hind left leg, which she had been using to move herself along the path, suddenly slip on a patch of ice, Scootaloo instinctively flared her uninjured wing to help keep her balance. However, this maneuver nearly ended up being her undoing, as without the counter-balance of her injured wing, the unfolded left wing caught a gust of wind and almost dragged her to the ground. It was only the orange filly’s natural athleticism that allowed her to barely keep her balance and steady herself. Grimacing in annoyance while quickly refolding her open wing, Scootaloo took a deep breath and again started to move herself slowly down the path. However, the two ponies circling her had taken notice of the near fall, and they had adjusted their taunts accordingly.
“Gimpy, gimpy, blank flank! Gimpy, gimpy, blank flank!”
In her mind, Scootaloo pictured them as two timber wolves which had found an injured lamb away from its flock. Still, she silently kept on, she needed only to make it around the next bend and she would be in sight of the library. Then maybe these two timber-wolves-in-pony’s-clothing would leave her alone.
“What’s the matter gimpy? Not feeling chatty today?”
Scootaloo gritted her teeth and tried to decide which was more annoying, having the hail hit her back or the insults hit her gut. She was really regretting leaving the Fall’s End dance early. Especially since she had slipped away without telling her two friends and fellow Crusaders. They were the ones that usually helped her get home and kept these two bullies at bay. However, Scootaloo had started to get depressed at only being able to watch while her classmates and friends danced around the decorated barn at the Apple family’s orchard. On the other hand, she did not want to force her two friends to sit out the party in order to keep her company. And so, the orange filly had, she thought, quietly scooted away without anyone the wiser. However, it seemed that her current tormenters had caught her leaving and had decided to have some ‘fun’ on their own.
“You know, my father says that pegasus wings almost never heal right once broken. I bet there is a good, like, 50% chance that you’re going to be gimpy forever!”
That, of course, was her not-so-secret fear. That her wing would not heal right, despite the assurances from the wing doctor from Cloudsdale. She was terrified of never being able to fly or do stunts again. Of her idol, Rainbow Dash, losing interest in her. Of ending up as one of those sad and broken ponies you read about in the paper, dying all alone in a ditch somewhere after living what, for a pegasus, had to be a half-life at best.
“Must be tough not only being a blank flank, but not even being able to walk or fly straight… and now your injured too! Hahaha!”
They were baiting her, trying to get her to attempt to catch them. They wanted to see her fall again. She had already tempted fate once before. Shortly after being released from the hospital, she had responded in anger at the barbs thrown her way by these very same ponies. However, she had almost immediately toppled over as she tried to build up speed on her scooter. Only a quick twist had prevented her from landing on her broken wing. That had earned her a stern warning from the hospital staff that had seen her after the fall. All it would take is one more spill and her wing could possibly never recover.
“Hey! Maybe then you’ll get your cutie mark, it’ll be like a broken stick or something, since your special talent will be being a gimpy loser! Hahaha!”
Despite her resolve, Scootaloo was close to her breaking point. Either she would try and rush them or she would start crying. Either outcome was a victory for the bullies. Continuing onward, the injured filly slowly and silently rounded the bend in the road, her now-tearing eyes still fixed firmly on the ground.
Frustrated with the lack of reaction from their prey, the two bullies began to ramp up the viciousness of their taunts.
“Pffft, your no fun gimpy! No wonder you’re a foster-filly! I bet your mom threw herself in front of that train just to forget how much of a LOSER yo…”
A new voice cut the taunt short.
“Girls… that’s enough!”
It was the tone of the voice that stopped the two bullies in their tracks more so than the command it gave. While the tone held some anger, it mostly sounded determined and… disappointed?
Looking up, Scootaloo saw Lero, standing tall against the wintery weather. His head and the top of his face obscured by a hooded cloak, with only his beard visible to the filly. If Scootaloo’s tormenters were a pair of timber wolves, then Lero was an Ursa, a tower of cloth and hair looming above her.
For a moment, it seemed as if the timber wolves would try to take on the Ursa, however, the two bullies were able to catch a glimpse of Lero’s eyes, which held the same determination and disappointment as his tone. New emotions began to trickle into the minds of the two fillies, feelings that they usually did not feel outside of their own herd.
Scootaloo was looking at her tormenters now, waiting to see what they would do. Briefly, she could have sworn she saw regret and shame flicker on their faces. However, twin masks of indifference quickly replaced any other emotions. The two fillies turned, their heads held high and their noses in the air, and trotted back up the road.
Lero looked down at Scootaloo, who was now looking straight head towards the library, now in view, still trying to keep her tears at bay. In one fluid motion, the human moved to the young filly and placed a reassuring hand on her left shoulder.
“Come-on, kiddo, let’s go home”
He then helped her along the slippery path. He could of carried her, even with the scooter he could easily bear her weight in his arms. However, Lero sensed that this was a journey that Scootaloo needed to finish with as little help as possible.
With the tall human helping her balance, Scootaloo’s pace increased dramatically. She was proud of herself that, even now, she was still in control of her emotions. Oh, the tears would come, but now they would be for those that cared, and not a trophy for bullies.
And so the two made their way towards their home, lit brightly against the now darkening sky. As they drew near, Scootaloo came to a stop. Her eyes closed, the young filly basked in the sense of safety, security, and support that radiated from that light… as well as from her human guardian, standing protectively beside her.