//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: The Trottingham Gutters // by meoaim //------------------------------// “A pleasure doing business with you! Come back any time, y’hear?” Applejack gave a wave of her hoof as the customer walked away. Once he had fully turned around, Applejack let her salesmare’s smile droop. She let out a tiny groan and scooped the stallion’s money off the counter. The sun hadn’t even reached the top of the sky and already Applejack was feeling exhausted. Her hooves felt like lead as she trod back to the front of her stand. Even her back was aching, which was hardly ever a problem, not even after two-and-half days straight of applebucking. No, she wasn’t really tired, it was just her body’s way of telling her that there was something on her mind. Something that she was going to have to do something about. It was a quirk of the Apple family line. Whenever her or one of her kin had something bothering them, even if they didn’t realize it, their bones were always there to let them know. After the incident at the pawnshop last night, she had tried to get it out of her mind. She had gotten back the money the filly had taken and would be able to return it as soon as she saw the stallion with the tophat again. She had even tried to reach out to the filly, but it was clear that whatever it was she wanted, she didn’t want Applejack’s help. Besides, Rainbow had told her that there were other foals out there just like her, living out in the streets. Rainbow had talked about it like it was just another fact of city life. It was just how things worked in the city. Sure, it felt wrong to see it happen, but so many things about this place felt wrong to Applejack, who was she to judge? Bottom line: it wasn’t her problem to fret over. She had a family to look after. She didn’t have time to waste worrying about a filly who didn’t even want anything to do with her. Applejack felt the beginnings of a crick in her neck. Applejack sighed, who did she think she was trying to convince? She could send whatever thoughts she pleased rattling around in her mind, but she’d never be able to fool her bones. Idly, Applejack massaged the muscles just above her collarbone. She had always prided herself on being one of the most dependable of ponies back in Ponyville. Held herself up to a higher standard than even the other members of her extended family. Why was she trying to shy away now? Heck, the answer to that one was easy. She wasn’t sure who she was being dependable to anymore. Her eyes wandered down to the shelving built into the sides of her stand. Normally she’d use them to hold money, bills of transaction, writs and everything else needed to run a business. Today, though, it held something extra. If Big Mac ever found out how much money she’d had to pay, she would never hear the end of it. Heck, she was probably gonna be berating herself for weeks. It was wrapped in brown craft paper and tied with twine. The old mare at the pawn shop had been kind enough to tie it up with a water knot so Applejack could easily transport it with her teeth. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it obviously meant something to that filly. Well, she hoped it did, at least. Her bones had her cornered, even then. Maybe it was just this city getting to her, but things back in Ponyville had seemed so much… well, maybe “easier” wasn’t the right word, but they sure were a heck of a lot less complicated. A sudden burning sensation in her ears snapped Applejack out of her problems. There was a customer standing in front of her. The mare had her eyes locked on Applejack with a discomforting amount of determination. “Ah!” Applejack flinched back from the face mere inches from her own. She skittered back a few paces before regaining her composure. “Ah, I’m mighty sorry about that.” Applejack said, “I didn’t see ya there. Can I get you anything, ma’am?” The only thing that moved on the mare was her slightly messy, very curly, and altogether pink mane as it shifted slightly from the breeze blowing through the street.  The mare’s (equally pink) body stood rigidly still. The stare the mare gave Applejack was almost comical in the amount of intensity it conveyed. “Uh, ma’am?” Applejack’s mouth contorted into a nervous grin, “Can I help you with something?” The mare continued her impression of a statue. The sounds of other market vendors drifted around them, but the pink pony held her silence. Finally, right before Applejack was considering saying something else to break the silence, it was broken for her. “No thanks, Applejack!” the mare said. Her eyes relaxed and the previously rigid stance she held suddenly conveyed only smiles and cheer towards Applejack. “I mean you’re orange, sure,” she said, “but you’re way too big, your mane’s all wrong and you don’t even have wings! It’s a good effort but I really just think you did a sloppy job overall. Nice try, though!” “Uh, thanks?” Applejack said, still a little dumbstruck by the sudden transformation she had just witnessed. “No problem!” the mare let out a short giggle before bouncing away down the street. Applejack watched her as she left. What did she mean by big? Applejack wasn’t much taller than most other mares. And why did she care whether or not she had wings? Applejack really hoped she wouldn’t have to add “racism” to the list of things that happened in this city. Though frankly, it wouldn’t come as a surprise. Actually, how did she know her name. She could’ve sworn she had never seen that pink pony before in her life. Her neck throbbed again. Applejack winced. Maybe it was kind of odd for a mare she’d never met to know her name and to be asking such weird questions on top of that. She gingerly turned her neck, the pink mare was still visible, her poofy mane bobbing up and down like an extravagant beacon amongst the throng of ponies performing their shopping. Her head darted to and fro, searching the crowd around her. Occasionally her eyes would dart up towards the rooftops and down iron grates that lead into the sewers. It was obvious what her bones wanted. Applejack considered following the mare. “Excuse me, miss?” said a young stallion walking up to her, “Could I get a pint of strawberries?” The thought of bits, of Big Mac and of Applebloom dragged her back. Applejack’s face flickered briefly before settling into to her familiar salesman’s smile. “Right away, sir,” she said, “Excellent choice, our strawberries are the freshest and largest in all of Equestria!” She didn’t have time for fool’s errands. Her family was relying on her, she couldn’t abandon her post. No matter what. The pain in her neck intensified. It travelled down to her back, manifesting as a white hot prickling sensation. Applejack didn’t let her smile waver as she got the stallion’s strawberries. Even with the grin as wide as she could manage, Applejack knew she wasn’t fooling anypony. -------------------------------------------------- Scootaloo waited at the back of the line, willing the ponies in front of her to move faster. The wondrous scent of freshly baked bread and perfectly cooked jam touched her nostrils. Any trace of anxiety or sadness from the events of yesterday had vanished. In no small part to the previously mentioned scent that permeated every foot of the bakery. On other days such a beautiful smell would've taunted her. A tantalizing treasure barred from her grasp. Today though, with her remaining bits in a bag firmly gripped in her mouth, she would plunder this warm and flaky booty. Finally the pony in front of her received his order and trotted away. Scootaloo walked up to the counter. The pale blue stallion taking the orders was a little on the tall side. He craned his neck over the counter, looking down at Scootaloo. Scootaloo gave him a small frown and spat the bag of bits down at her feet. "Aw, hello there, little filly. Can I help you?" he said. His voice held a high, condescending tone and his lips were curled into a wry smile. Scootaloo's frown deepened into a scowl. "A bag strawberry jam wheels and two orange fritters," she deadpanned. "That's a lot of food for a filly like you," the stallion said. The way he spoke made Scootaloo want to buck him in the face. But that could wait until she had the fritters in hoof. She settled on a verbal assault for now. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd know a thing or two about lots of food, wide-flank. Just take my order." The stallion looked taken aback, "Woah there, kid," he said, "Do your parents know you're talking like that?" Scootaloo rolled her eyes, "Uh-huh, they sure do. Can I get my food now?" The stallion snorted derisively. "Kids today..." he mumbled before turning around to get Scootaloo's order. As soon as he turned around, Scootaloo stuck her tongue out at the stallion. Ponies were all alike, they'd walk all over you if they thought they could get away with it. Jerks. Scootaloo's eyes wandered across the crowded bakery. The flames of malice danced behind the neutral or smiling expression each pony wore. They were just waiting for a chance for someone to make themselves vulnerable and they'd pounce on them like wild animals. At least she wasn't gonna be that pony. She was tough and ready for anything. She wouldn't make any more mistakes. The stallion returned, two paper bags balanced expertly on his back that carried with them that beautiful smell. Scootaloo stared at the food greedily. Without a word she counted off the bits needed, put them on the counter and snatched up the bags. "Your folks need to teach you some manners, kid." The stallion muttered darkly. Scootaloo was already walking towards the exit, but she turned her head and gave the stallion a parting glare. "Whatever wide-flank, who asked you anyways? I don't need your-" Thud. Intent on her verbal retort, Scootaloo didn't notice the pony in front of her path. She gently impacted against pink fur. The bags on her back wobbled and toppled to the floor. "Oopsie!" said the mare in front of Scootaloo. Scootaloo gasped and started picking up her precious cargo, "Geez, watch where you're going, lady!" she said. "Sorry about that," the ridiculously pink mare said, her face still all smiles, "I guess I wasn't looking where I was standing!" "Yeah, right." Scootaloo said, restoring her bags to their original positions. She hoped this stupid mare hadn't ruined any of her food. The mare giggled a little bit. She looked like she was about to say something else but the words died on her throat as she finally took in exactly who she was speaking to. Her eyes widened in sudden recognition. “We have a winner!” she shouted, loud enough that the other ponies in the bakery turned their heads. “Oh wow, you have no idea how lucky you are!” “Huh?” Scootaloo said. "Oh, it's nothing," the mare said with a dismissive wave of her hoof, "Don't worry about it." Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. This pink mare was weird. Not only was she entirely too cheerful, but she wasn’t even making sense.  "What's your freaking deal?” Scootaloo said, “Are you crazy or something?" She started walking past the mare's bulk. The mare didn't to make a move to stop her, only turned her head to keep her gaze trained on the filly. "Stop that!" Scootaloo said. The mare giggled and still kept her eyes on Scootaloo, "Stop what?" she asked. “You know what!” Scootaloo shot back. “Ooooh, is this a guessing game?” “What? No!” “Is it... my smile? My hair? Are you upset because I’m naked? No, wait, that’s just silly...” It was rapidly becoming clear to Scootaloo that this mare was a couple of sprinkles short of a cupcake. There were ponies like that in the Stacks, of course. Heck, that was probably why they were in the Stacks. But none of those ponies were this crazy. “...but I don’t even have Gummy with me right now! Are you allergic to alligator fur? Do alligator’s even have fur? Maybe you can’t stand to not be around alligators...” Scootaloo geared her mouth up to give another biting reply to the mare, but the warm pressure on her back and the rumbling in her stomach reminded her there were more pressing matters to attend to. Instead, she grumbled out something unintelligible to the weird pony and stalked out through the door. She had already found a safe place nearby before entering the bakery. It had been a good find, close enough so she wouldn’t have to wait too long, but secluded enough to be away from prying eyes and grabbing hooves. She never understood how other ponies could eat with other mares and stallions around them. Maybe no one was looking to steal your meal from right under your snout, but why would anypony ever take the chance? Scootaloo turned the corner. The alcove in the brickwork was a minor error from the work of an architect, overworked and underpaid. From the inside, it was nothing but wasted space, but from the outside, it was the perfect spot for a little privacy. She sat down on her haunches and opened the bag. She savored the brief puff of warm air that hit her face and removed one of the orange fritters from the bag. Slowly, she lifted up the treat to her mouth and – “There you are, silly!” said a voice that was, judging by how loud it sounded, two or three feet behind Scootaloo. Scootaloo flinched in surprise; her fritter dropped to the ground with a dry plop. “Hey!” Scootaloo yelled and turned around in annoyance. The pink mare’s smile gleamed down on her. Scootaloo scrambled to her hooves. “I found you again!” the mare trilled. Scootaloo snarled and snatched up the dirtied pastry. “Not you again! Are you following me?” “Maaaaaybe.” the mare replied. “What, why?” “Come on, Scootaloo, what would be the point of a guessing game if I just told you?” “What kind of mule do you take me for? Do you expect me to just sit around and guess –”  Scootaloo began, only to be short-circuited by an errant thought entering her brain. “Wait a minute, how the hell do you know my name?!” The mare giggled again. “Don’t be silly, Scootaloo. I’m Pinkie Pie,” her face grew a grin so wide Scootaloo thought her face might split, “I know everypony.” Scootaloo’s ears drooped, her eyes transfixed on the mirthful gleam on Pinkie Pie’s face. “Everypony.” she repeated. Scootaloo took a step back. Pinkie Pie took a step forward. Scootaloo turned and and ran as fast as her terror-stricken body would take her.. “Everypony!” the mare practically cackled as Scootaloo fled. Her legs took her out into the bustling streets where she dived into a throng of ponies. Thanks to her small size, it was one of the better way to lose pursuers, at least temporarily. Scootaloo let herself move with the crowd and scanned the area to make sure that Pinkie Pie hadn’t followed her again. A cursory inspection revealed no trace of her and her ridiculously poofy mane. Scootaloo had dealt with crazies before. The best bet was to stay far, far away from ponies like that. You could never know what they might do to you in a darkened room. Scootaloo unconsciously shuddered. She worked her way deeper into the crowd. As she did, Scootaloo’s stomach grumbled discontentedly. She had left all the food she had bought back in the alleyway, that was probably the worst part. Her earlier windfall had dwindled away, spent on stupid decisions and unlucky circumstance. Maybe a weaker pony would’ve despaired, but not her. She was strong. Something like this wasn’t even going to affect her. At all. That was another lesson from her sister. Emotions are a luxury that can rarely be afforded. She was right, of course, getting emotional right now would just mean more chances to make mistakes. She let the crowd decide where she was headed, for now. She would break away from the group a little further on, once she was certain that pink menace was nowhere to be found. Yeah, that seemed like a smart plan. Half an hour passed before Scootaloo was certain that Pinkie Pie hadn’t followed her. She was farther into the main market streets by now, it meant a little backtracking through the little-used roads, but that suited her fine. Scootaloo slipped away from the crowd, diverting herself down a lane that smelled faintly of something foul. She trotted briskly through, so far so goo- “Hrry thrrer Sschoots!” Scootaloo whipped around in disbelief. Behind stood Pinkie Pie holding in her mouth the bag of pastries she had left behind. “I thrink you drrpped thrsh!” She let the bag drop from her mouth and gave Scootaloo a bright, cheery, smile. “You’re a really good runner, Scootaloo! But it looks like I’m a better finder!” Pinkie paused for a second, then rubbed her chin thoughtfully, “Which I mean, makes sense I guess, considering that’s most of my job. And no one ever asks for party investigations, which is weird because I’d rather find a bunch of ponies at a party than just one pony somewhere else…” The filly ran. “Hey wait!” Pinkie yelled, “Where’re you going? You forgot your food!” Scootaloo’s hooves pounded against the cobbles, a near perfect match to the thundering in her chest. Pinkie Pie had found her again, but it seemed her tendency to talk gave Scootaloo another chance to slip away. But her little speech also pointed out another disturbing implication. Somepony had hired Pinkie Pie to track her down. Who would do that? What pony would want to find her? Scootaloo blinked, if she wasn’t currently sprinting down the road she would have face-hoofed. Applejack. That evil pony from the night before. She had already tried to ensnare Scootaloo with her smooth talking. Looked like she was trying a different tact this time. How dare she? Scootaloo knew there was no way she could trust that pony! She felt a burning wellspring of anger rise up in her throat and tried her best to choke it down. Behind her, she heard a frenzied, giggling gallop. “Wrrt up srlly!” Pinkie Pie said, a mere eight or so feet behind. Her long strides were easily keeping up with the filly’s pace and she still had Scootaloo’s hard-earned food held in her mouth. They were both moving so quickly that passersby had only a second or two’s warning to get out of the way. Scootaloo struggled to increase her speed, her tiny wings buzzed like mad, hoping to gain even a tiny increase in thrust. It wasn’t enough. Slowly but surely, her pursuer was gaining ground on her. Unless she did something drastic, she was going to get caught. Up ahead was her chance. A slender young mare, casually strolling. A pair of draftsponies lifting a wooden crate marked “FRAGILE”. A hastily erected trinket stand, it’s high and shoddy roof just barely within jumping distance of a clothesline strung between the two sides of the street… She would have to be perfect, but she knew she could. No more mistakes. Pinkie Pie was very nearly on top of Scootaloo. Her eyes blazed with determination and cheer. “Lrrk rrt Schoots!” she said, “I’rm gnrrra gretcha! Rwar!” Her last statement was punctuated by a muffled giggle. No more mistakes. With a growl of effort Scootaloo jumped forward. She landed right on top of the slender mare, who gave out a yelp of indignation. “Get off me you little whelp!” Scootaloo obliged. She leapt off again, the extra height letting her forehooves latch onto the top of the crate in transport. Her body crashed into the side, eliciting some cracking sounds from within. The draftsponies lurched at the sudden impact, nearly losing their hold on the cargo. “Whaddya think you’re doing, kid?” One of them yelled. Scootaloo’s legs kicked fitfully for a moment or two before she finally managed to scramble onto the top. She turned briefly towards Pinkie Pie, who stopped and was looking at her with a look of confusion. With all the dignity she could muster, Scootaloo sneered at the mare and stuck out her tongue. With all her might, she pushed off the crate. Several ponies looked up in alarm as she sailed above. Several more looked sidelong in shock as the crate tilted precipitously from the ponies clutches, smashing down onto the street in a cloud of glass and splinters. The tarp stretched over the trinket stall held her weight only briefly. The ratty material split and ripped just as Scootaloo flung herself off. Her hooves flailed wildly, but one hit the mark and she grabbed ahold of the taut clothesline. She hung there, precipitously, ten or twelve feet above the cobbles. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. A dozen or more ponies, Pinkie included, looked on. Scootaloo other hoof gripped onto the line and she turned to her destination: the roof. With her above the streets she’d outrun anyone below without even breaking a sweat. With a heaving swing of her body, she locked her hind legs above the clothesline and started to drag herself across to the roof’s edge. Shirts, bowties and various lacy things drifted to the ground as Scootaloo progressed. She didn’t mind, she was practically home free. Down below, Pinkie Pie’s tail twitched. “Look out!” A frantic voice called out from the crowd. Scootaloo frowned and looked ahead. She looked just in time to see the last fraying strands of the ancient clothesline – Snap Scootaloo felt weightless. She saw the line snake past her, broken tension propelling it past her. Somepony shouted, “Catch her!” Falling wasn’t so bad, Scootaloo thought with an odd kind of serenity. It was a lot like jumping, or flying. The only difference was the ending. More noises from below. A scream. A ripped shirt fluttering past her. This never would’ve happened to her sister. The cobbles were close now. She closed her eyes. Scootaloo hit the ground.