“I guess we aren’t Cutie Mark Crusaders Acrobats, are we?”
Apple Bloom was sure that Sweetie Belle sounded muffled, though she couldn’t quite tell over the ringing in her ears. As it cleared, she cracked her eyes open. Her two friends lay stacked on top of each other, Sweetie Belle with her face being pushed against the ground, Scootaloo with her legs up in the air and her eyes glazing over.
Suddenly, Scootaloo blinked and she leaped to her hooves. She lent one of them to Sweetie Belle and pulled her up, nodding through her frown.
Apple Bloom had to stop herself from laughing. This might have been the first time all day that those two actually agreed on something.
“Ya never know!” She sprang to her hooves so she could look back at her flank, where she just knew something was going to be. Maybe it would be a trapeze, or a set of double bars, or maybe even a couple of ponies flying through the air with their hooves in each others’. She didn’t know what it would be, but she could feel it!
Her smile slipped away when she saw the bare yellow staring back at her, mocking her with its blankness. A glance at her friends told her all she needed to know, and she slumped back into the dirt face-first.
It wasn’t fair. They’d spent so many days throwing themselves into their cutie mark crusades by now that she couldn’t stop herself from sighing. Just this morning they’d already been Cutie Mark Crusaders Florists, Cutie Mark Crusaders Bean Counters, and now this! And none of them had seen hide nor hair of anything on their flanks yet! Sure, they hadn’t exactly thought about how they were going to grip the branches for their acrobatics cutie marks, but they’d still managed to stay in the tree for a couple of seconds. That had to count for something!
It just wasn’t fair.
“I still say we should try something that doesn’t involve falling if we get it wrong,” Sweetie Belle said, looking back up at the tree. “Like bird watching.”
Despite herself, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but feel her mouth being tugged back into a smile. Of course there were still plenty of things to try. And if she ever forgot that, her friends would never leave her feeling like that for long, even if Scootaloo’s ideas usually meant jumping off of something so high it made her feel dizzy.
She smiled again. That weight that had pulled her down just fell away like apples from a tree being bucked by her sister. She stood up as her own idea popped into her head. Maybe we could be Cutie Mark Crusaders Skybattle Champions!
But the idea never made it out, as her eyes were caught by a poster on one of the houses nearby. At least she thought it was a poster, but, looking at it again, there were no flashy colours or whiz-bang shapes like on the Wonderbolts ones that Scootaloo would show them. It was a light brown and mostly covered in writing, and a little loopy signature sat in the corner underneath a blue scroll that looked real official. Her ears perked, and she couldn’t stop her hooves from trotting over for a better look.
Scootaloo stared blankly at Sweetie Belle, before her lips twisted into a smirk. “Nah.” Shaking her head, she made her way over to her trusty scooter. “I say we head back to the clubhouse and think up something there!” She paused for a moment, putting her purple helmet with its white racing stripes on. “There’s gotta be something we haven’t tried yet,” she finished, one hoof punting the air and the other on her handlebars.
“Sure,” said Sweetie Belle, hopping into the wagon that they always fixed to the scooter during their crusades. “We could all do with a rest, anyway.” She smiled with her eyes softly closed.
For a moment, Scootaloo looked at Sweetie Belle as if she had been speaking fluent Prench. “Yeah… and that…” Her brows fused as she scanned the street for their other friend. It didn’t take long to find her, staring intently at a boring old notice on a nearby house.
“Coming, Apple Bloom?”
“In a sec’!” Apple Bloom hollered over her shoulder, barely taking her eyes off the poster. Now that she was this close, she could just about see the faintest little suggestion of a scooter next to The Mayor’s seal.
Attention Ponyvillians
A meeting has been scheduled to be held in the town square this Saturday at 2p.m., to discuss any issues surrounding the upcoming S1 Grand Prix event due to happen—
“APPLE BLOOM!”
“Coming!” Grinning as widely as she could, she galloped back to her scowling friend, who buzzed away the second she got her hooves into the wagon. Sweetie Belle quickly gave her a helmet. Once it was as tight as she could get it, she leaned back with her hooves behind her head, letting her eyes close. No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn’t wrestle her thoughts away from that poster and back towards their next crusade.
It’s just another town meetin‘, nothin’ special, Apple Bloom told herself. Big Macintosh went to them every other Tuesday evening. He never did tell her what went on there, but she never once saw him cracking a smile or even having the faintest glimmer of interest in his eyes when he came back.
But this one was happening today, and today was Saturday. And what was that “S1 Grand Prix”-thingy that it talked about?
“Guys, do you know what an…” She had to think before she spoke again. “‘Ess One Grand Pricks’ is?” Sweetie Belle only shrugged, a sorry little smile on her lips, but what sounded like old shoes on a tiled floor made it shatter. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle grabbed hold of each other as they hit what felt like an invisible wall.
When her breath came back, Apple Bloom wondered if Twilight had been looking up new spells again, like that one which turned the lake into chocolate milk for three hours before anypony’d noticed. But those thoughts slipped out of her grasp as Scootaloo turned around, grinning so wide it looked like all her dreams had just come true.
It almost looked like… But there wasn’t a flash! Applejack had told them all that there was a flash when she had gotten hers.
“Did you mean the S1 Grand Prix?” Apple Bloom felt her eyes nearly pop out. Scootaloo’s fizzy voice made her sound like Pinkie Pie.
“Uh… Yeah, I think so…” Apple Bloom wasn’t quite sure where the “d” or “x” had gotten to in those words, but those questions were quickly drowned out by new ones. There was something about Scootaloo’s smile that made her belly itch with curiosity. “The poster back there said there’s a meetin’ this afternoon about it. What is it?”
Scootaloo’s wings gave a quick burst. Her smile spread even wider, lighting up her whole face like a sunrise. “It’s only the fastest, greatest, coolest sport for pegasi outside of flying!” Her eyes grew big and shiny, and her cheeks started to cover them up. Apple Bloom had only seen her look like this once before, back when Ms Cheerilee had let her bring Rainbow Dash in to talk for their class’ Heroes Day. “I always wanted to see a race live…”
“Why? What’s it about?” Sweetie Belle asked. Apple Bloom leaned in with her.
Scootaloo’s grin vanished in a heartbeat. It its place grew a stare so wide that Apple Bloom wondered if a certain something had just appeared on her hip. “You mean… you don’t know?”
Apple Bloom came so close to rolling her eyes, but memories of a pink filly whose name she didn’t want to remember stopped her. There was no way she was going to do that to her friends. Besides, if this “Grahn Prie” thingy was enough to get Scootaloo this worked up, then surely there had to be something to it. She joined Sweetie Belle in leaning even closer, with the same big eyes that came out when Granny Smith had promised a pie for desert.
Scootaloo’s smirk was back as if it had never left. “Come on.” She turned back to hunch over her handlebars. “I’ll show you.”
-------
One hair-raising ride through Ponyville and a coming within inches of upsetting somepony’s apple cart later, the three of them stopped outside Scootaloo’s house. It looked the same as every other building in town, with pale walls and a thick, thatched roof, but Apple Bloom couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it looked a little… small. Still, that was probably just her being used to living in the Apple Family’s big, old farmhouse.
She didn’t have much time to dwell on this, as they galloped inside.
“Hi, Mom,” said Scootaloo through the kitchen doorway. She didn’t bother to stop.
“HI SUGAR PLUM!” Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle chorused as they followed Scootaloo up the stairs. Their hooves thundered louder than a whole stampede, covering the older pony’s soft reply before they bounded into Scootaloo’s room.
No matter how many times she stayed over at Scootaloo’s, it still took a moment for Apple Bloom’s eyes to adjust. The walls around her burned a brighter orange than any fire. She and Sweetie Belle had actually lost track of Scootaloo in here a couple of times after trying their hooves at being Cutie Mark Crusaders Barbers. The only break from all the orange was a little, mouth-drawn picture of Rainbow Dash surrounded by an enormous ring of all the colours of her namesake, which sat proudly above the headboard.
“So… what’re ya showin’ us?” asked Apple Bloom, her eyes darting around the room. She stopped for a moment on a picture of two fillies, riding scooters in front of a blurry background.
“Oh… it’s over on the bookshelf,” replied Scootaloo, trotting over to her wooden chest of drawers. Apple Bloom shared a look with Sweetie Belle; her “bookshelf” totalled a full three books, including the scrapbook of their Crusades, which looked a little bit bigger than the last time she saw it. Scootaloo’s nose hovered over the light-blue in the centre for just a moment, before pulling out the largest of the three.
“Here it is!”
Scootaloo held in her teeth a large book with thick binding. It was mostly black, but there was white sprouting along every little edge like moss. Those two colours were also on the front cover, but in an actual chequered pattern that framed a hazy photograph of a yellow filly with a wild mane of yet more orange. She stood on a scooter, leaning against the handlebars and smirking as if she’d just gotten her cutie mark for some kind of amazing trick.
Apple Bloom blinked. She was sure she knew that pony from somewhere, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull out her name from wherever it was hiding. Lemon Zest? Citrus Burst?
She abandoned her search as Scootaloo pushed the now-open book in front of her and Sweetie Belle, filling their sights with more pictures. Some were little and some were big. Some were in-colour and some were in all different shades of grey. Some were of streets filled with ponies and could rival Ponyville’s market-day for hustle and bustle, and others were of little paths between wide, open fields. And in the middle of all of them, pegasi stood on scooters, their tails whipping around behind them, wings nothing but flashes of colour by their sides.
“Uh… Scootaloo?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“Yeah?”
“What is all this?” She gestured a hoof at the pictures.
Scootaloo sighed, and her whole face darkened for a moment before she climbed up onto her bed. Apple Bloom looked at Sweetie Belle, who stared back with wide eyes and an equally-gaping mouth. A soft padding noise came from the bed, and their eyes snapped to it. Scootaloo faced them, not quite frowning as deeply as before, tapping the blanket in front of her.
They didn’t have to be told twice.
“The S1 Grand Prix is a series of races held every year,” Scootaloo explained, as Sweetie Belle finally settled on a cushion. Scootaloo’s grin broke free of the leash of annoyance, running rampant across her muzzle. “The fastest colts and fillies from all over Equestria are pitted against each other on tracks made just for them. All they have to do is ride their scooters as fast as possible for a set number of laps, and the pony who covers the distance first is the winner.”
“Sounds… fun!” squeaked Sweetie Belle. Apple Bloom matched her smile. She wanted to tell Scootaloo that she’d seen Applejack at her rodeos too many times to not know what a race was, but she couldn’t find it in her. Maybe it was because Scootaloo was grinning so wide she was sure it made the whole room glow.
“That’s not all of it, though. The top fifteen finishers from each race get a certain number of championship points. The better they finish, the more points they get, and after all of the year’s races are over, whoever has the most points is crowned Equestrian Champion!” Scootaloo’s eyes went glossy again, and Apple Bloom couldn’t help but smile herself.
“Wow! That must almost be as excitin’ as getting yer cutie mark!” Scootaloo’s face blurred she nodded so fast. “So, what happens if they become Champion?”
“Uh… they get a trophy. And Princess Celestia personally congratulates them.”
“Huh?” Apple Bloom’s eyes widened, and her smile did the complete opposite. “That don’t sound like much.” If she remembered right, even the rodeos in Ponyville would give out bits to ponies who took home the blue ribbons. Which usually meant Applejack, of course.
“Yeah. I thought you were gonna say they’d get a special cutie mark, or something like that,” added Sweetie Belle, and they both cocked her heads at Scootaloo.
“Well, they do go down in history as a Champion.” Scootaloo’s massive smile never even wavered. “They’re all there in this book,” she said, pointing at it. Apple Bloom followed her hoof for a moment, before turning back to Scootaloo. She lifted an eyebrow.
“What else’s in there?”
“Everything!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “All the best riders, the best teams, the best tracks, and all the best races!” She jumped so quickly it was like she’d been shot out of that cannon again, almost sending Sweetie Belle toppling out of sight. “The races are the best thing about the Grand Prix, because they’re always full of action. There’s spins and crashes and overtakes and duels on the track like you wouldn’t believe! Here!”
“Crashes? Duels? Does anypony ever get hurt in these races?” asked Sweetie Belle as she sat back on her cushion, eyes wide as barn doors.
“Nah,” replied Scootaloo, glancing up from the pages as she flicked through them. She spotted Sweetie Belle’s sceptical look. “Not much, anyway. Cuts and bruises at most.” For a few seconds, all Apple Bloom could see was her fuchsia mane bobbing about as she made her way through the book, muttering under her breath.
“There!” she cried, slamming a hoof down. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle darted to her sides. “This is a good one. The old ones always are.” Scootaloo took her foreleg away to rest her head on it.
Apple Bloom saw just what she meant by “old” when she caught sight of the picture at the top of the page. It was another one that was all in grey. A wide, light track took up most of it, ploughing straight through the fields for miles into the background. A few trees clustered around the edge on the other side, with a couple of ponies seeking shade underneath their branches even though the sun shied away behind some clouds. On the track, three stallions stood on scooters that looked a lot bulkier than the one her friend rode. Their heads were wrapped up in thick fabric where she and her friends would have their helmets, and their eyes were shielded behind goggles. The two at the back wore vests with the same winged cloud on the side, and both of them had stocky builds that reminded her of her brother. They both hunched over their handlebars, teeth gritted and nostrils flared so wide she might have gotten a hoof stuck in one. But the stallion at the front stood almost upright on his hind legs, like that green unicorn who played her harp in the park. She couldn’t help thinking of her brother again, what with how completely calm he looked, but the lines around his eyes and the size of his belly ended the similarities there.
“That’s Cool Breeze.”
“Huh?”
“The one at the front’s Cool Breeze.” Scootaloo jabbed a hoof at the stallion. “He wiped the floor with everypony else in the early years, and was Champion for six years in a row.”
“Six years?” Sweetie Belle’s voice cracked at the news, and Scootaloo nodded.
Apple Bloom’s eyes went big and round again, her thoughts on a row of ribbons on the barn wall. Hay, six years being the champion of anything was impressive, even if it didn’t quite match up to ten. Applejack was the ten-time rodeo champion in Ponyville, and since she’d been able to walk far enough Apple Bloom had always watched her sister in action. She knew just how much effort Applejack poured into her work and her training, just how many pints she’d sweated and how much she’d strained her muscles until whatever the rodeo threw at her couldn’t even get her out of breath. But this Cool Breeze stallion looked so… old. He looked even older than Sweetie Belle’s dad, and, even though he was a great guy and it made her insides crawl just a little bit to even think it, there was a reason he coached hoof-ball now instead of playing it.
But before she could let herself get carried away, a niggling little question brought her back down to earth.
“Hold on.” Scootaloo’s grin fell just a tad, and Apple Bloom saw her ears go a little bit slack. “If he was so amazin’ and won everythin’ like you said he did, how was the racin’ any good? Surely he’d be way out ‘n front of all the others?”
Sweetie Belle’s eyes went wide, and the pair of them looked at Scootaloo with raised eyebrows and cheeky smiles. Apple Bloom felt a chill of regret as she saw Scootaloo’s ears fall even further, but her friend’s smirk chased it away.
“Well, how about you read the story of the race and find out?” she suggested, pointing at the book again. Unable to help the curiosity still fluttering through her tummy, Apple Bloom followed her hoof along with Sweetie Belle. For a while, a silence descended around them like a thick blanket as they fell into the story.
960 ME Cloudsdale Grand Prix
This was the race where the forty-seven year old Cool Breeze could secure his sixth Equestrian Championship with two races left in the year. By doing so in such a majestic manner, he also cemented his place in the minds of many as the greatest ever.
Team Prancer, spearheaded by one Lightning Bolt, once again proved that it could knock the ex-mail-pony off his perch in qualifying, setting a time 0.7 seconds quicker than Cool Breeze could manage for CRS. However, the difference was much smaller than in previous races, and he was able to split the Prancers to take second on the grid.
The Cloudsdale circuit, with its long straights linked by gentle, flowing bends, was usually blazing hot by the time of its Grand Prix. This year, though, the weatherponies had left a light smattering of clouds over the circuit, ostensibly to bring about some variation. However, the cooler conditions also gave advantage to Team Prancer. With age taking its toll on him, Cool Breeze had made the most of his calm and cunning to accumulate his points cushion when others faltered, but the onus was now on him to add a dash of pace back into the mix.
Lightning Bolt led away from the start, trailed by the slightest of margins by team-mate Olive Green and Cool Breeze. This trio quickly pulled away from the main pack, with the Prancers trying furiously to break away from the chasing CRS. However, with their home city floating high above, both Lightning Bolt and Olive Green were equally desperate to take the win, and their duel prevented Cool Breeze from losing sight of them. On lap twelve of thirty, Lightning Bolt ran wide at the final corner, allowing the CRS to slip by into second.
Three laps later, it was the second Prancer’s turn to make a costly error, with Cool Breeze now emerging at the head of the queue. Having saved his energy in the early stages, the time had now come.
His next ten laps were among the finest anypony has ever ridden. As shown above, the Prancers would close the CRS down on the straights, only for Cool Breeze to staidly cling to the inside line through each corner, steadily upping the pace with each breathtaking tour. Backmarkers were passed on all sides, and the Prancers tried increasingly audacious moves while this occurred, but nothing could get Cool Breeze to relinquish his lead.
With three laps to go, the three were all lapping six seconds quicker than their qualifying pace, but it was too much for Olive Green to bear. He pulled into the pitlane, having slowed right down on the track after pulling a wing muscle. It wasn’t long before Lightning Bolt slowed to avoid a similar ailment, which allowed Cool Breeze to sublimely glide to his final victory. Having literally broken the opposition, riding at a speed he later admitted he would never dare to repeat, few would argue that he didn’t deserve it.
“Scootaloo?”
The voice pulled all three of them back out of that grey world and back into the bright bedroom. They turned to face it and Scootaloo smiled.
“Yeah, Mom?” she asked.
“I just thought you’d like to know that lunch is ready, sweetie,” replied Sugar Plum, giving them all a smile as warm and sweet as fresh apple pie.
“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute,” said Scootaloo, grinning. Her mother nodded and trotted back out the door.
“You guys staying over?”
“Actually, Scootaloo…” Sweetie Belle mumbled, staring at a clock by the bed. “I better get going. I told Rarity I’d be home by noon.”
“Same here,” Apple Bloom added as a pang of hunger crept up on her. Thinking of the apple fritters waiting on the kitchen table for her did nothing at all to help. “Sorry, Scoot. I did like lookin’ at that book an’ all, but I did promise Applejack…”
“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Scootaloo shook her head before bouncing off the bed. “More cake for me!” Before the she could disappear out the door, though, Apple Bloom spoke up again.
“Say, Scootaloo…” she began, eyes fixed on the book.
-------
It wasn’t long after the first scooter had been built and sold that the lucky colts and fillies who had been given them decided that the best thing they could do with their new toys was find out how fast they could make them go. Equally quick was the discovery that pegasi were able to do this to the greatest effect, and soon after there were races being held between them.
Apple Bloom paused for a moment to take another chomp of her sweet pastry. She was still surprised at just how easily Scootaloo had let her borrow this book. Then again, looking at all the creases and dog-ears that ran through the pages, Scootaloo might already have the whole thing memorised by now. It might well be the only bit of writing she’d ever managed to remember by heart.
After she had run back with the book, another groan from her belly told her exactly where to go. Applejack had been in the kitchen as well, but all she gave Apple Bloom was a blank stare after catching sight of that book. That giddy itching had been just a little too strong for her to ask why her sister had done that, and she trotted away before Applejack could find her voice again.
She shifted a little into the old, puffy sofa that had been in the living room since forever, and buried her muzzle back into the book.
The early Grands Prix were lax, informal affairs. There was little in the way of safety equipment, with canvas helmets being the full extent of most pegasus’ precautions, and the only prize on offer was glory. There was also no distinction for different ages of the competitors; with the creation of larger, sturdier scooters, stallions and mares alike were soon joining in the fun.
With the elder pegasi much quicker on the straights, but the lighter foals being much nimbler and faster through the corners, the racing was intense. However, there was still no real structure to it all. The format, length and field size fluctuated wildly between the races, with up to forty below Cloudsdale but as few as sixteen in Manete Cavallo. Many days saw more than one race, and so the possibility of depleted fields was realised all too often. That changed, however, in 952.
This was the year that Silver Lining, who moonlighted as a Wonderbolts reserve between his business ventures, realised the potential of scooter racing. Not only was it a fine sport in and of itself, but it also trained wing muscles that could later be used in either aerobatics teams or in the airborne Pegasus Racing League. With the agreement of the competing teams, he created the Equestrian Scooter Racing Association, the governing body of the sport that persists to this day.
The first Equestrian S1 Grand Prix Championship took place in 953, with the inaugural event being held at Trottingham with Princess Celestia herself in attendance. Thirty qualifiers, the new limit imposed by the ESRA, took part in a gruelling, three-hour blast around the ex-Wonderbolt training ground on the outskirts of the city. The victor was a rather tubby local mail-pony, by the name of Cool Breeze.
For the next twenty years, the formula of the races went largely unchanged. Great names were made, and many titanic battles were fought on the great circuits of the era. However, during the 970s, it was becoming increasingly apparent that the all-ages style of the racing was not suitable for the sport as the level of competition continued to climb. The growing audience of the time bore witness to some frightening near-misses, as slower colts and fillies were lapped by the leaders, and whispers abounded of imminent rule changes. Then, on a tragic day in 978, one unlucky filly came within inches of losing her sight after a high-speed collision. She recovered, to an extent that nopony could have predicted, but the whisperings had become a roar.
With Princess Celestia also adding her voice to the masses’, the change was swift. The ESRA imposed an age limit for S1 Grand Prix races, to begin effect in 979. From that year on, a pony had to be sixteen years old or younger before the final race of that season in order to compete in S1 that year. The opposite was true of the new P1 category, which had been designated for stallions and mares.
In the years since, there have been many other changes to the race procedures. Medical facilities have been upgraded, from one nurse-pony in a tent to a temporary hospital at each Championship round. Newer, stronger helmets have been introduced, along with protective pads on knees and ankles. The cloud-balls on the edge of the track have been extended to full barriers around the circuits, strong enough to absorb a pegasus out of control at speed, yet soft enough to shield them from injury. Great circuits have been lost, and new ones grown in their place.
But some things have stayed the same. During the races, it’s just the pegasi, their scooters, and their natural ability, fighting it out to be the very best.
Apple Bloom continued to work her way through it, eyes stuck to the page with a diligence that would have made Twilight Sparkle proud. After that introduction, it moved on to a section about the greatest circuits of the sport. She raised her eyebrow at that. How could where those scooter-ponies raced be as important as the ponies themselves? It couldn’t make that much of an impact, could it?
Apparently, it could, as she found herself whisked away to cities and towns scattered all around Equestria. Some of them she hadn’t even heard of before!
The challenging sweeps and curves of Bridlington, where scooters would judder and slide across the track and pegasi had to fight to keep their eyes open. The flat-out blast through the vineyards of Reins, where all they could see was a blur of green an grey and just thinking about it made her pass on getting a second fritter. The ultimate test of the Maneco race, where pegasi would thread themselves around the harbour with the walls and cloud-barriers never more than inches away.
Dotted in and around the descriptions of the tracks were little stories about some of the races that had happened there. Mossy Meadows’ win at the P1 Ring near Fillydelphia was one of them. Apple Bloom couldn’t help but giggle as she imagined the pegasus crossing the line, smiling wider than a mile, only for him to fall off his scooter as he raised his hooves to celebrate! Before anypony could get to him and make sure he was all right, he picked himself up again, still grinning from ear-to-ear. He even went around for the full victory lap! She only stopped herself waking Granny by filling her mouth with pastry.
Wow! This Grand Prix stuff’s huge! It’s a wonder I’ve never heard of it before…
She tried to stop it. She tried to think about that doofus falling over after his win. She tried to think about that mare trying to race on a belly of sarsaparilla. She tried to think about the colt who crashed because he used a shadow to tell him where to slow down.
But she couldn’t stop her sweet smile from souring. She couldn’t stop that fluttery feeling from earlier fading away, and leaving a big, empty nothing for that thought to echo in.
It’s a wonder I’ve never heard of it before…
It had been months now since the cuteceñeara where she’d found her friends. Since then, not a day had gone by without them launching into another crusade for their cutie marks. Whole sunny days had been filled with running around trying to find their special talents, and they’d spent many nights putting their heads together, thinking up ideas for where they could be hiding.
But this book… This racing… It all seemed like a huge part of Scootaloo’s life. Like how that shelf in her room was creaking under all of her Filly Fighter books, or how Applejack had her collection of Twangin’ Banjo records, or how Big Macintosh had those fillies’ dolls that he kept hidden under his bed and she wasn’t even supposed to know about.
And she’d only heard of Scootaloo’s passion now.
Maybe Applejack’s right… she thought, not able to hold back a sigh. Something hot bubbled behind her eyes. Maybe we should slow down a little ‘bout gettin’ our cutie marks… It’s like I don’t even know my friends outside a’that…
She raised a hoof, ready to shut the book on a page she was sure had the title “Champions”, but it blurred too much for her to be sure.
That all cleared, though, as her ears perked. Coming from somewhere outside was a buzzing noise. A very familiar buzzing noise, and one that only got louder the longer she listened to it. As she slid off the settee, everything went quiet again, before her ears filled with the drumming of galloping hooves.