Scootaloo was about half a day’s walk north of Ponyville. She had left for no particular reason, she had no particular destination—though she had a vague notion of going to Canterlot and seeing Princess Luna, for some reason—and she was in no particular hurry to get there. All she brought with her was her scooter, her helmet, a canteen of water, and two ears of corn and an apple. She found an oak tree along the road and set up an impromptu picnic, driven by an equally vague notion that she should probably eat and drink something. She had not done a lot of either in the past day. Scootaloo absently munched on the apple and stared at nothing.
A shadow passed over her, the shadow of a pegasus. She looked up, her heart accelerating a few beats, but whoever it had been was gone. She glanced at the apple and let it fall from her hooves. Listlessly, she watched it hit the grass and roll down the slight hill to the road. It didn’t matter.
Nothing really did anymore.
“Kind of late to be out by yourself, don’t you think?”
Scootaloo turned at the voice and her eyes widened. Her mane stiffened and her jaw dropped in shock. “S-S-Spitfire?!”
The leader of the Wonderbolts reached up and drew her hood and goggles back, fully exposing the shock of her fiery mane. She motioned towards the apple. “Since you don’t want that, can I have it? I’m kinda hungry. It was a long flight from Mareimar.” Scootaloo dumbly nodded. Spitfire bent down, spit on the apple, rubbed it dry with a hoof, and took a huge bite. Around the apple, she asked, “Scootaloo, right?” Another silent nod. “What are you doing out this late? Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
Scootaloo looked away and shrugged. “I’m not very good at school.”
Spitfire finished the apple and sat down next to her. “Truth to tell, I wasn’t great shakes at it either. I had to improve towards the end, though—the Royal Equestrian Air Force has certain standards.”
Another shrug. “Don’t really care about that.”
Spitfire cocked her head to one side. “You don't? I thought you wanted to become a Wonderbolt someday.”
“Rainbow Dash did…”
“Mm-hm. And didn’t you want to follow her?”
“Does it matter?” Scootaloo’s voice rose despite herself. “Rainbow Dash is dead.” She angrily wiped away a tear. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Crying was weakness. Rainbow Dash didn't cry.
“I know,” Spitfire sighed. “I’m flying to Ponyville to help with the funeral.” She walked over to Scootaloo. “She told me a lot about you, you know—Rainbow Dash, that is.”
“She…she did?”
“Yep.” Spitfire smiled. “Dash and I corresponded fairly regularly. She was always talking about this crazy filly with a scooter that zipped around Ponyville, terrorizing everypony. A little pegasi who just wants to fly all the time.” The smile widened. “Sounds like Air Force material to me.”
Scootaloo shook her head. “No. I don’t want to join now. I don’t want to fly.”
“A pegasi that doesn’t want to fly?” Spitfire looked surprised. “Why not?”
“What’s the point?” Scootaloo picked up her helmet and jammed it down over her mane. “Rainbow won’t be there to see me. Nobody else cares.”
“Don’t you think that’s unfair?” Spitfire asked gently. “I saw you at Prince Armor and Princess Cadance’s wedding. Seems to me you have a lot of friends.”
“I really don’t—“
“Twilight Sparkle isn’t your friend? Rarity? Applejack? Pinkie Pie? Fluttershy? The Cutie Mark Crusaders I've heard about?” Spitfire shook her head. “Seems to me that you do.”
Scootaloo opened her mouth, closed it, and instead fixed Spitfire with a sulking glare. “I’m a blank flank.”
“Me too.” Spitfire bit back a laugh at the expression on Scootaloo’s face. “Well, I was until I got my cutie mark. You’re just a filly, Scootaloo. You’ve got time.”
“I’m not good at anything! I can't fly, I can't draw, I can't sing...I'm terrible!" Scootaloo shouted.
Spitfire’s eyebrows rose. “Rainbow Dash disagreed.” She silenced Scootaloo with a look. “Dash was one of the best fliers I’ve ever seen at Mareimar—and I see about forty pegasi a year. She was going to make the Wonderbolts, as soon as Fleetfoot retires. Twilight Sparkle—Princess Twilight Sparkle—could’ve picked any one of the Wonderbolts, or even Princess Luna or Cadance to teach her to fly. But she chose Rainbow Dash. And you know who else Dash chose to teach how to fly.” Spitfire looked pointedly at Scootaloo. When the filly turned away without reply, Spitfire nudged her. “So you see, Scootaloo, your attempts at making yourself look bad just aren’t going to work. I’m on your six. You’re a good filly, and Rainbow Dash loved you like a sister.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Scootaloo fought very hard, but to her shame, she began crying. She swore and said words a filly should not know—Spitfire’s ears flattened back against her head in surprise—but the tears did not stop. “I killed her,” Scootaloo whispered.
Spitfire put a protective wing over her. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did, Miss Spitfire. She’d be alive if I hadn’t…jumped out in front of her. I just—just wanted to see her closer, you know…why can’t I stop crying, Miss Spitfire? Rainbow never cried…”
Spitfire doubted that. “She was your friend, Scootaloo. It would be strange if you didn’t cry. There’s no shame in it.” She poked the filly with a hoof. “And you did not kill Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo. It was an accident.” She paused as Scootaloo sniffled and wiped her muzzle. “Can I tell you a story, Scootaloo? It’s not a very happy one, I’ll warn you.”
“I guess so…” Scootaloo did not want to hear any sad stories right now, but curiosity won her over.
Spitfire settled in next to Scootaloo. The sun was just about gone, but it was a pleasant evening, and the sky still was light enough. “Just after I joined the Wonderbolts, the team had an airshow over in Germaneigh. You know the Multipony Crossover Manuever?”
“Yeah. Rainbow called it ‘threading the needle.’” Despite herself, Scootaloo was interested. Her tears dried as she listened.
“It relies on expert timing, Scootaloo. Expert. One pony gets things wrong, the whole manuever falls apart and we look dumb. But this was worse. One pony—her name was Skyflash—was off by half a second. Instead of crossing over him, she flew straight into Whirlwind. They hit each other at very high speed. Worse, a third pony—Javelin—saw it happen right in front of him. He tried to manuever away and flew headfirst into the ground.
“They all died, Scootaloo. All three Wonderbolts. There’s only six of us on the show team. It was the worst disaster in team history. Fleetfoot was team leader then. It bothered her so bad that she asked to be relieved from command. Soarin and I were the only ones left—we were flying the solos that day, so we weren’t involved. We were up high; didn’t see it happen. For half a year, we didn’t perform. Celestia chose me to take over as team leader. I had to pick up the pieces.
“In your case, Rainbow Dash was too low and too fast. She never should have been that low at that speed. You make one mistake in that situation and you’re dead. If Dash was three feet higher, she would’ve flown over you. Given you a good scare, ruffled your feathers, but that’s all. If she hadn’t been flying so fast, she might’ve still hit the tree, busted her wing, but it wouldn’t have killed her.”
“So you blame Rainbow?” Scootaloo said angrily.
“No. All I’m saying is, these things happen, Scootaloo. You do what we do—what the Wonderbolts do, what a pony like Rainbow Dash did—and you know that you’re flying on the edge. Most pegasi don’t even try to fly like we do. Rainbow Dash could do a Sonic Rainboom. I’ve been flying for longer than you’ve been alive, Scootaloo, and even I can’t do that. Not even Princess Celestia can. Eventually, if you hang it out there long enough, you will get hurt. And yes, sometimes even killed.” Spitfire gave her a wan smile. “But here’s the funny thing. I can’t think of anything I would rather do more than be a Wonderbolt.”
“Don’t you get scared?”
“Yep. All the time. Anyone who doesn’t get scared is an idiot. If I had a bit for every time I broke off a manuever because I got scared, I could buy Canterlot.” Spitfire let out a breath. “What I’m trying to say, Scootaloo, is that Rainbow Dash died doing the thing she loved. I don’t blame her for that. Neither should you, by the way—“
“I don’t!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “I could never hate Rainbow Dash!”
Spitfire smoothed Scootaloo’s mane with her wing. “I know. But you might get angry at her. She saved your life, Scootaloo. Always remember that. If she’d hit you, head on, I’d be attending two funerals.”
Scootaloo nodded. “I know. That’s why…it hurts so much. That’s why I’m angry with me.” Scootaloo stared at the evening sky. The sun was gone now, and the stars were out. “I want to fly, Miss Spitfire. I really do.” Her tiny wings whirred at full speed, but they barely lifted her from the ground. “And I think I will someday. It’s just that…I don’t think anyone cares.”
“I think we already had that conversation. I think you’ll have a tough time finding anypony who doesn’t care when that happens.”
“Diamond Tiara won’t!”
Spitfire had no idea who Diamond Tiara was, but guessed it was someone Scootaloo didn’t like at school. “Don’t worry about that. You know a earth pony named Cherilee?”
Scootaloo nodded. “Miss Cherilee? She’s my teacher! Next to Rainbow Dash, she’s the best pony ever!”
“We went to school together. She was a class behind me.” Spitfire shook her head. “We hated each other. I thought she was just a dumb old earth pony and she thought I was a stuck-up jerk. We beat each other up a few times.” Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Never pick a fight with an earth pony, by the way…anyhow, I’m staying with Miss Cherilee while I’m in Ponyville. We’re good friends. She was the one who first told me about this crazy filly named Rainbow Dash. I bet that in a few years, you and Diamond Tiara will be best friends.” The expression on Scootaloo’s face told just how little faith the filly put into that remark.
Scootaloo was quiet for a moment. "Miss Spitfire, I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop...seeing Rainbow crash. Will I ever stop seeing that?"
"Maybe someday." At least Spitfire hoped she would stop seeing it. She had lied about one part of her story--Spitfire had seen Skyflash and Whirlwind collide. She'd also seen the bloody aftermath. She still saw it. So did Fleetfoot, if the occasional screams in her sleep were any indication. Scootaloo was young; maybe she would forget. Then again, perhaps it would be better if she remembered. Memories were good and bad things at the same time.
“Well,” Spitfire said, getting to her hooves, “we’d better be getting into Ponyville. They’re going to be worried sick about you, my little pony.”
“Yeah, you’re right…” Scootaloo got on her scooter. “They probably think I went to Ghastly Gorge and threw myself in or something.”
“Were you going to?”
“No,” Scootaloo reassured her firmly. “That would be dumb. I mean, who’s gonna remember Rainbow Dash if I did something like that? What about the other Cutie Mark Crusaders and my folks? I can't just leave them." Now with some clarity, Scootaloo didn't want to admit that wandering away from Ponyville was almost as bad of an idea.
“That’s a very mature decision,” Spitfire said.
“I just wish…Rainbow was going to be around to see me fly. When I do, I mean.”
“I like to think that she will see you, in her own way.” Spitfire winked. “And she’ll be very impressed by what she sees.”
“You think so?”
“She’d better. Nopony is going to think bad about a student of mine!” Spitfire waited until it dawned on Scootaloo what she had said. The filly’s eyes were as big as dinner plates. “I’m no Rainbow Dash,” Spitfire said solemnly, “but I will do my best. And I demand that you do your best. Understood?” She barked the last word, like she would at a new recruit.
Scootaloo came to attention and snapped off a dazzling salute. It was with the wrong hoof, but Spitfire could work with that. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Good.” Spitfire folded her wings back. “Your first assignment, Cadet Scootaloo, is to walk back with me to Ponyville. It’s a little too dark for that scooter.”
For the first time in a day, Scootaloo felt alive again. She would never forget Rainbow Dash, her best friend, but maybe now she could come to terms with losing her. Maybe she hadn't really lost her at all. She pushed her scooter along with one hoof, staying even with the older pegasus. As the lights of Ponyville came into sight, Scootaloo said, “Miss Spitfire?”
“Yes?”
“Will I ever be as good as Rainbow Dash?”
“If you do well in your lessons, if you listen to what Miss Cherilee and I say, and you quit worrying about being a blank flank, then yes.” Spitfire winked at her. “You may even be better.”