Chapter Two
Daring Do took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, downed it in a single gulp, and placed it back on the tray. All the while, Professor Brambor, the chairman of the math department at Oxcolt University, was expressing his ‘utmost sympathies’ through a thick accent. Occasionally, he’d pull out a handkerchief and wipe his eyes. She could not help but notice the light gray cloth had not darkened a shade. Brambor, while having a good heart, was obviously more of a showman than a sympathizer.
“Yout fathur… he was good stallion. A good friend.”
“Yeah,” Daring Do replied, focusing on her wine. She had heard those words a thousand times, but at least the others had been intelligible.
“You know I loss my fathur ven I vwas only a colt. Three year old,” Brambor said between heavy breaths.
“Uh-huh.” Daring swirled the empty glass, downed it in a single gulp, and searched the crowds for somepony—anypony—that she could go and stand near instead of Equestria’s next great thespian. She rolled her eyes as he threw a foreleg upon her withers. The door to the balcony was only a few feet away. She longed to leave the party, but Brambor’s oxygen supply was as deep as his pockets.
Finally, she found her opening. Amid another brow-wipe, Brambor’s magic failed him, and the handkerchief fell to the floor. Muttering foreign curses, he bent down to retrieve the rag amidst a sea of hooves. Daring Do pounced on the opportunity and made a break for the door. It wasn’t the most difficult escape she had ever made—it didn’t even rank in the top thousand—but the relief she felt when the cool evening breeze hit her face was as radiant as when she had retrieved the Sapphire Stone.
The smell of salt tickled her nose, and the sound of crashing waves caressed her ears. She had to give her father credit: he definitely had an eye—and ear—for property. Looking around the deck, she noticed that she was, unfortunately, not alone. Four other ponies also stood under the stars, and all of them had turned their attention to her, eyes growing wide and then glazing over. She groaned. No matter where she went there were well-wishers and awkward huggers. Could she not have a moment to grieve in peace? Was that too much to ask?
A plump earth pony dressed in a tuxedo and smelling of cigar smoke began to waddle towards her. She waved him off with a hoof before making a beeline for the stairs. If he wanted to talk, he would need to catch her. She heard him come to a gasping stop before she had reached the foot of the stairs.
– – –
The sand under her hooves, the scent of the jungle, the call of tropical birds. Daring’s true home. Occasionally, with the right branch or bird call, she found herself glancing over her withers, bracing herself for a brawl with one of the gallery of thieves and ancient gods that always seemed to have a way of knowing where she was at all times. She let her muscles relax. Despite the rich vegetation, animal life, and general isolation, the coasts of Mexicolt weren’t exactly dangerous. There was the occasional temple just off the beach, but the only treasures to be found there were tattered popcorn bags.
She noticed a soda bottle sticking out of the sand and kicked it. Sure, there would always be new 'lost civilizations' to discover, and the fact that relics were becoming something more than cobwebs and crumbling stone was a (relatively) positive thing, but Daring still could not help but cringe when she saw the hooves of the ‘Canterlot Elite’ trampling their designer horseshoes upon the same stones that the first ponies had. As she passed yet another pile of cider bottles, she couldn’t help but think that those ancients were more advanced than these socialites.
If Father could see this, he’d be rolling in his grave. Probably is. She sighed and flopped down on a nearby boulder, head cradled in her hooves. It still stung no matter how many times she yelled at herself to keep her chin up—to move on as if nothing ever happened. She just couldn’t keep her emotions chained up. They held the keys and they always had a way of freeing themselves at the worst possible time.
She thought about the time her father had taken her to a Fillydelphia Fliers game when she was a foal. How he had bought her her very first hat on her eighth birthday. How he had taken her to her first ruin when she was ten (which, in retrospect, was a rather reckless and dangerous thing to do). How he had made her exactly who she was now: a brave adventurer and lover of history.
And there, slumped against a rock, Daring Do—the most courageous, tenacious and ferocious pegasus Equestria had ever known—wept like a foal. Luckily for her, the ocean waves were loud enough to drown out her sobs. Her reputation was one of the few things she still had.
Over the roaring tides, she heard the calling of a gull. Its cries rose in a steady crescendo until she could make out what appeared to be words. She looked up and scanned the black skies, searching for the source. Despite the growing sound, there were no signs of life. Slowly, the words began to take shape. A single, decipherable word could be made out—one she had never heard before in her life.
“Scoots!”
Something hit the back of Scootaloo’s head. She jolted up, muscles tensed. She dug into her desk for her sharpest pencil while her gaze darted around the room. Bats? Arrows? Maces of destruction? An object fell past the corner of her vision. An eraser. She ran a hoof through her mane but, no, no blood. That really was it. With a shrug, she let thoughts drifted back to her book.
Alright, where was I? Let’s see... found her opening... socialites... A-ha! Here we—
“Scootaloo!” the voice called out again, strained and seething.
She slammed her forelegs on the desk and turned, glaring daggers at the unicorn in the desk behind her. “What, Sweetie Belle?!”
Sweetie Belle glowered at her, thrusting her head towards the front of the classroom. Scootaloo stared at her with a raised eyebrow. Had Rarity forgotten to put jam on her toast or something? Sweetie Belle muttered something under her breath and gave one last prod, pointing her horn at something behind Scootaloo. “Turn around, you dodo,” she said through clenched teeth.
Scootaloo’s eyes went wide and followed Sweetie’s horn. As she turned around, she noticed a tall shadow and gulped.
Mrs. Yardstick, Ponyville’s middle school teacher and resident crone, stood over her, wrinkled eyes set in a disapproving stare.
Scootaloo chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “Heya, Miss Yardstick. Lovely weather we’re having.”
The mare sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know whether I should be mad at you for not paying attention, or impressed that you’re actually reading something.”
“Um... how about we go with the second one?”
Miss Yardstick shook her head again and returned to her lesson on… something. Scootaloo sighed, reluctantly stuffing Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool into her saddlebag. A glance at the blackboard signaled her doom. She bit back a groan. Math... I hate math. She pulled out her math book. If there was one thing visiting the library had given her, it was knowledge that books actually made decent pillows. Her math book’s cover was a bit too rough to doze off, but enough to allow her mind to wander. Te lesson droned on behind a sea of static. Sleep escaped her, but that was probably for the best. No doubt Miss Yardstick would be keeping an eye on her.
She sighed and reminisced about Cheerilee’s class two years before. Those were the days. Recess, cancelled classes due to other foals discovering their special talent, Hearts and Hooves Day parties. It just wasn’t the same anymore—it certainly wasn’t as much fun. Her eyes drifted around the room before settling on the blackboard, where Mrs. Yardstick had hastily scribbled some notes. It was a trick she had learned the previous year. If she looked like she was paying attention, the teachers would assume she was. Miss Yardstick, ancient as she was, fell for it daily. She glanced at Scootaloo in odd intervals, and Scootaloo nodded in return. The formulas went uncalculated, the graphs and charts ignored..
She glanced around the room. Most of her classmates were present, but she noted a distinct lack of bows. Checking to make sure that Mrs. Yardstick wasn’t looking, Scootaloo turned to a half-asleep Sweetie Belle.
“Where’s Apple Bloom?” she whispered.
Sweetie blinked a couple times before whispering back, “She got signed out early. Remember?”
Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Sweetie mirrored her expression, complete with head tilt. “Becau—”
“Scootaloo! Sweetie Belle! Pay attention! If I catch either one of you talking again, I will give both of you detention for a week.”
You’ll give me a week’s worth of detention anyway, Scootaloo thought. Still, compliance would rest her voice, so she turned around in her desk, and let her chin fall upon the book once more.
____
There were things, Scootaloo noted as she trotted away from the schoolhouse, that were more nurturing for one than food. Sure, her rumbling stomach twisted and tugged at her, but as long as she kept her soul satiated—as long as she gave herself a reason to move about—she could make it. Dad would get commissions again, he’d clear his head enough to scoop up a chisel, and the rumbling would cease. Until then, she just needed a reason to walk on.
“Scoots?” As always, Sweetie Belle’s voice was a beam among the storm clouds. If only her face could follow suit. She tilted her head, eyes wide and frown firmly set on her lips as she leaned around her lunchbox. “Aren’t you eating?”
Scootaloo waved a hoof, eyes rising skyward once more. It was nearly noon. “I’m good.” She would be doing her rounds soon. There was no way Scootaloo was going to miss it for something as pointless as food.
Sweetie Belle sighed. “You can have half of my daisy sandwich,” she said. Scootaloo could hear the unicorn’s ears fall flat against the side of her head. Scootaloo’s almost did the same. Sweetie was a good pony. Her sister may have been acquaintances with her father, but Sweetie had no obligation to like her. Yet she did, and Scootaloo had no earthly idea why. “Come on, Scootaloo, you gotta—”
“I’m good, Sweetie. Honest.” Before her friend could continue, Scootaloo bounded off across the schoolyard. Behind her, whispered under breaths yet thundering in her ears, she could make out the usual chorus of whispers.
“What’s with the new girl?”
“Has she eaten anything since she got here?’”‘
“She’s crazy.”
That last one came from a grey filly with dumb glasses, sitting at a literal dining room table set up near the slide. Her friend, a pink pony jerk with a pretentious tiara let out a chortle as she hissed, “Of course she is. Have you heard about her mother? She…”
Scootaloo snarled in their direction. She’d show them crazy, especially if they kept smirking at her like they were now. A couple hooves straight to the muzzle would set them straight but Celestia, what kind of first impression would that send to Rainbow Dash. Maybe she’d just laugh at them.
But it could also ruin Scootaloo’s one chance. Swallowing her bucks, she took a deep breath and marched on to the edge of the schoolyard. Behind her, Miss Cheerilee shouted something about not ‘leaving the school grounds.’ Scootaloo rolled her eyes but waved nonetheless. She wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
Her blood ran cold. Rainbow saw that. She scooped me up and brought me back here. Cripes, that probably screwed me. She fell back on her haunches and glared at the ground, kicking at a batch of clovers. Her stomach growled again as she eyed the plants. They weren’t daisies, but maybe they’d do?
A sudden sound rocketed through the sky, pulling her gaze skyward. Rainbow was less a pony and more a streak of light, zipping from cloud to cloud. Scootaloo blinked and a cumulus was on the other side of the horizon; another blink and the thunderhead forming over town hall had been reduced to tiny puffs drifting skyward. She grinned. Her heart swelled. Nothing in this world beat awesomeness, and Ponyville, if nothing else, had an endless supply of the stuff.
Said purveyor of cool, as Scootaloo had guessed, slowed and came into form. Rainbow Dash always napped after each clearing, and for some reason the sky around the schoolhouse always held a preferred napping cloud. The ‘Queen of Speed’ flexed and flapped her wings as she settled down on a batch of cumulus, spinning in place as she stretched out the rest of her joints. It was in the middle of a neck crack that she opened her eyes… and stared straight at Scootaloo, smiling.
Scootaloo blinked, glancing over each wither, her wings buzzing as loudly as her brain. Surely there was somepony else around, but her gaze only met empty space for yards and yards. She turned back and found Rainbow Dash mere inches from herself. Squeaking, Scootaloo jumped into the air, her wings abuzz. They kept her aloft for approximately zero seconds. She nearly fell face-first into the grass as she landed.
“You do know you only get one lunchtime, kid.” It might have been a question, but the way it rasped out of Rainbow’s mouth made it sound like a statement. Scootaloo was too busy scooping her jaw off the grass to piece it together.
“I… huh-hey-a!” All the cool moves in the world were at Scootaloo’s disposal. Prop back on her hind legs and cross her forelegs in a pose, slick her mane back with a wing. All she could manage were a few choking giggles as her jaw shook. “Rainbow… Rainbow Dash, right? Know we’ve never really met, so, uh, how do I know that name, heheh, I guess your, uh, reputation… uh…”
Rainbow wasn’t even looking at her. The prismatic pegasus glanced to the schoolhouse, before looking down at Scootaloo with a tilted head. Suddenly, she knelt down and poked Scootaloo straight in the ribs. It wasn’t a hard poke, but it sent Scootaloo flittering into the air once more. Rainbow let out a sigh as soon as she’d landed. “You gonna go eat your lunch or are you just gonna stand there tyin’ your own tongue all day?”
Now that was a question. Scootaloo laughed and ran a hoof through her mane. The strands fell flat over her eyes. She looked up toward Rainbow with a blind smile. “Heh heh, I’m good here.”
Rainbow sighed again, stretching out her wings. “Good. Stay there for a sec.” A rush of wind blew Scootaloo’s mane back. Shielding her face with a foreleg, she squinted into the gale. Something fell into her her back. Not heavy, but the shock caused her to whip around, walking in circles and trying to catch sight. The wind died down around the same time she finally caught sight of the object.
Her wings fluttered. It was a sandwich. Pulling the top slice of bread back, she could see sunflower topped with tomato and nightingale. The ingredients alone probably cost as much as one of Dad’s commissions. She found Rainbow chilling on a cloud hovering overhead, forelegs behind her back. She opened up one eye and smirked, the smile fading to a frown the moment Scootaloo lifted her hoof aloft, sandwich still balanced, tomato juice dripping down her hoof.
“I can’t…” Playing dumb wouldn’t do her any good. They were Rainbow’s favorite toppings, though she would never admit how she knew so. Somepony would make her take yet another bath then. “Dash, this is yours! I can’t take it. I couldn’t possibly pay you back.”
The mare rolled her eyes. “Then don’t.” She shot off of the cloud and made her way down to Scootaloo. “Consider it a… an autograph?”
Scootaloo frowned. “That makes no sense.”
Rainbow threw her hooves skyward. “Fine, a souvenir then!” Her frown transformed into a smile. “Now, you enjoy that. I’ll even toss a show in there, free of charge. Sound good, squirt?” She reached down and ruffled Scootaloo’s mane. The filly swore she’d never wash her hair again. Scootaloo grinned, but could only squeak out a nod.
As she watched Rainbow shoot skyward, performing barrel rolls and front flips, Scootaloo could not think of the right words to describe any of it: the action, the stunts, Rainbow herself. Grinning ear to ear, Scootaloo took a bite of the sandwich and fell back into the grass as the flavors washed over her tongue. Her ribs ceased tugging on her gut, and her stomach floated like the clouds all around. As she completed another loop-de-loop and soared by sitting filly, tossing mane and condiments abound, Rainbow caught Scootaloo’s eye. Though it was for but a split second, the mare winked and smiled before moving into a series of corkscrews.
Taking another bite, Scootaloo finally found a word—the perfect word for Rainbow Dash. She wasn’t just ‘awesome’ or ‘cool’ or ‘amazinglywildsweetspectacular.’
She was her angel.
____
The school bell chimed, nearly sending Scootaloo tumbling to the floor. She raised her head, eyes flicking around the room as she wiped a trail of drool off her chin. Her classmates blurred and her eyes burned. Had she started crying again? Sniffing away the fleeting visions of the dream, she wiped her nose and gathered her things.
Miss Yardstick hadn’t woken her, though. At least she had something to be thankful for.
“Scootaloo. Could I speak to you for a moment?”
The filly groaned. As usual, she’d been thankful a moment too soon. She stuffed Daring Do into her saddlebags and tossed them over her back. This meeting wouldn’t be a long one, of that she was certain, so tightening the straps could wait. Step by shuffling step she trudged up to Miss Yardstick’s desk. The look on her face was a surprising one. Scootaloo had expected a narrowed gaze over the rims of her glasses, but instead the old mare’s eye glowed with a warmth and her frown screamed anything but disappointed.
Scootaloo froze a few steps from the desk, wings flicking and hooves refusing to budge. She’d seen that face before. The look bore only a single word: ‘Concerned.’ Whenever someone opened their mouths with that gaze, nothing good every followed. It’d be best if she just left.
Miss Yardstick beat her to the punch. “I won’t be long, Scootaloo. I promise.”
Scootaloo sat back on her haunches, hooves wrapped around the straps of her saddlebags. “I know, I know, I fell asleep in class.” Maybe if she veered the subject, Miss Yardstick would avoid those rainbow-colored subjects. “Detention for a week. I understand. Sorry. Won’t happen again.” She practically sighed the final words, wings crossed.
Luck was not on her side. Though Miss Yardstick lit her horn and levitated a purple sheet of paper—her go-to detention notice—into Scootaloo’s open saddlebags, the conversation went no further in that direction. Miss Yardstick leaned forward, hooves together. “You’ve been distracted lately. I can understand. Not fully, thank the Sun, but these are… rough times for you.” The old mare’s ears sagged, eyes flicking downward to her desk. “Believe me, as much as I wish I could say I didn’t know how you feel… you’re not alone, dear.”
Scootaloo fought back her grinding teeth. “It’s cool,” she said. “I’m cool.”
Miss Yardstick smiled, and it made Scootaloo’s stomach churn. “I know, but if you ever want to talk—”
A loud slam echoed through the school room, straightening Miss Yardstick’s ears. It took Scootaloo a moment to realize that her own hoof had been the culprit. She looked down at the floorboards. No dents or cracks, just a crowing ache in her right forehoof. Shaking it a few times, she snorted and turned away. The teacher said something, but the words were useless. They were probably just more blind sympathy anyway.
Sweetie Belle stood near the door, rubbing a hoof against the other, ears twitching. She opened her mouth, but only a squeak came out. Scootaloo snorted. Good. At least someone knew when to just be quiet. The unicorn filly pushed the door open. Somewhere behind the two of them, Miss Yardstick called out one more time. “Scootaloo? Please wait.” There was a catch in the old mare’s voice. Scootaloo sighed and glanced over at her friend. Though her mouth didn’t so much as move, the look Sweetie gave Scootaloo begged her to turn around.
Tightening the strap of her saddlebags, Scootaloo marched out the door.
* * *
The streets of Ponyville were filled with screaming foals. Some were accompanied by their parents, who tried in vain to keep them calm with threats and pleas. Most ran around on their own, stirring up dust and song. In other words, it was Friday afternoon.
Compared to these bundles of energy, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were slugs, slowly making their way down the cobblestone towards nowhere in particular. They had originally planned to make a beeline for some distant field to crusade for their cutie marks, but Apple Bloom’s absence had shot that down. Sweetie Belle suggested they go by Rarity’s, but a spa-date had ruined those plans as well.
“So... what are we gonna do?” Scootaloo asked.
“I don’t know. Llibrary, maybe? I know it’s not cool but… it’s somewhere,” Sweetie Belle said with a shrug.
"Nah, I was just there yesterday.”
Sweetie Belle froze, her jaw almost touching the dirt. “Wait. Hold the presses. Y-ou went to the... library?” she exclaimed, voice cracking.
“Yeah.”
“You? Library? Huh?” Sweetie’s eye twitched.
Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “What? Did they make a law saying I couldn’t go to the library?”
“Most days, I thought so.” Sweetie Belle stuttered. “Sorry, it’s just… well, it’s not a ‘you’ think, you know?”
“Not really. Eh, whatever.” Scootaloo’s wings twitched. The stillness was killing her. She needed to move. “Irregardless, we can’t go to the library. Twilight got really upset when I was there yesterday.”
“Regardless,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
Scootaloo cocked her head to the side. “Huh?”
“Regardless. ‘Irregardless’ isn’t a word.”
“Whatever, Dictionary. You know what I meant.” A giggle underlined Scootaloo’s words. It tasted of bitter berries. She refused to smile.
"Yeah, I do." Sweetie Belle gave a small smile, but it quickly vanished, replaced by a frown. "Anyway, what was that about Twilight?”
“Hmm?”
“You said something about Twilight getting upset.”
“Oh yeah... I don’t know," Scootaloo rubbed the back of her neck. The wind stirred up more dust. Had it gotten chillier all of a sudden? "She just got, like, really upset when I was checking out. I think she may have been crying a bit.”
Sweetie Belle gasped. “Crying? Scoots, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything! Why would you even think that?” Sweetie Belle’s glare held. Scootaloo sighed. Distant, half-remembered curses and roars flicked her ears but she shook them off. “Honest, Sweetie! I was just there to check out a book. No manure.” Her wings slumped and twitched. “I think that was it, actually. It had something to do with the book I got.”
Sweetie’s glare melted away, replaced by curiosity. Celestia, she could pull a confession out of a statue. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s a Daring Do book,” Scootaloo said, voice growing softer with each word. Shaking her head, she pushed her scooter forward with the kick of a hind leg. She could hear Sweetie Belle trotting to catch up to her, but her eyes stayed locked on the road ahead. How could I have forgotten?
“Why would that make her upset?” Sweetie Belle gasped out, finally alongside Scootaloo once again.
A cloud of dust formed as the scooter skid to a stop. “Why do you think?” Scootaloo asked through gritted teeth.
"I don't know! I mean, sure, there's..." Sweetie Belle glanced at the ground, her entire body slumping beneath an unseen weight. “Oh...”
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” Scootaloo shook her head, gaze moving back to the road. “So, yeah. No library.”
“Well, what about Sugarcube Corner?”
“I’m broke.”
Sweetie Belle grinned. “My parents gave me six bits before they went on vacation. That’s more than enough for each of us!”
Scootaloo thought it over. She’d owe Sweetie Belle later, but she could use a milkshake. Nothing settled a shaky hoof like sugar. “You had me at bits,” She chimed, wings springing to life, fluttering so fast that another, much thinner cloud of dust started to surround them. Sweetie coughed and swatted at the air, but smiled, nonetheless. An honest grin tugged at Scootaloo’s lips as she tightened her helmet. “Race you there!”
* * *
Scootaloo scanned the orchard. Trees, apples, an occasional bird or squirrel, but no bows. No working ponies at all. She looked at Sweetie Belle, eyebrow raised.
“Why did Apple Bloom sign out early, anyway? Was she sick or something?”
“She had a doctor’s appointment.”
“Really? Like the dentist?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”
“Was it her back?”
Sweetie Belle merely shrugged once again. “I don’t think so. The stitches don’t come out for another week, but she did seem to be hurting last time.”
“What about a psychiatrist?” Scootaloo asked. The very name sent chills up her spine. Her wings picked up speed, nearly knocking over the to-go cup they had picked up for the last member of their trio.
Sweetie’s ears fell against her head, but she could only sigh. “I don’t know.”
They continued down the path in silence. Scootaloo caught herself glancing at the sky, but quickly pried her eyes away. Life seemed to be built on ironies, unfortunately and her eyes fell to an even worse place. They had cleaned up the clearing as best they could, but the fallen trees had yet to be removed. Their stumps and gnarled limbs spoke stories. The grass still bore the scars. Large holes where dirt had been kicked up by massive paws, blackened streaks of purple and blue.
That was nothing. Scootaloo found her eyes locked to the dark brown splotches. She leaned over the scooter bars, chest heaving. Why’d their clubhouse have to be here?
“Howdy, y'all!”
“Hey, Applejack!” Sweetie Belle piped up.
Applejack trotted up the path, baskets filled with freshly bucked apples bouncing atop her back. She briefly removed her Stetson to brush a few damp strands of blonde mane from her eyes before plopping it back down on her head. “Y'all lookin’ for Apple Bloom?”
“Yeah, we are." Sweetie Belle paused and kicked at the ground. "Um, we can see her, right?”
“Ya got eyes, don’t ya?” Applejack laughed. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo didn't share her amusement. Applejack cleared her throat. "Yeah, y'all can go see 'er. She’s right where you’d expect her." The farmer looked at the ground and sighed. “Reckon seeing y’all would be just what the doctor ordered right now. Feel free to stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks, Applejack," Sweetie Belle said. "Come on, Scoots.”
Scootaloo didn’t respond. She spit in the grass. Her mouth tasted metallic. Copper. Blood. The stench filled her nose. Fire burned in her eyes and the grass grew blurry once more. Something wrapped tapped her withers. “Ahh!” She fell into combat position, teeth barred. Not again. This time she was ready.
Applejack took a step back, hoof raised. “What in tarnation?”
Crap. Scootaloo straightened herself and flipped her mane. Everything was cool. No need to worry. Deep breaths. She waved a hoof “It’s cool. Just got distracted there.” Like moths to a flame, her gaze drifted back over the razed trees and soaked grass. How could they leave it like this? How could they not clean it up? The bile rose once again.
“Oh… oh, sugarcube.” Something fell around Scootaloo’s neck. Fighting it off was pointless. Applejack was a creature of stubbornness, even when it came to hugs. The comforting fluff of the farmer’s chest beckoned, but Scootaloo tilted her head away, clawing her way out of her grip.
“What?” she asked, shaking her head and staring up at Applejack. She grinned. Only ponies who were fine grinned, and she was fine. She was fine.
“Ya okay?” Applejack said, her eyes quivering.
Scootaloo looked at the ground. She swallowed, grinned, and blinked away any errant tears. “Yeah, of course I’m fine.” Her voice cracked. Applejack reached for her once again, but Scootaloo quickly jerked away.
“Well, uh, I guess... I guess we better go see Apple Bloom. Right, Sweetie Belle? We wouldn’t want her shake melting, right?” Scootaloo chuckled. The taste of copper coursed down her throat.
Sweetie frowned. “Scootaloo, look at the condensation. It’s literally leaking out--”
“Wouldn’t we?” Scootaloo repeated through clenched teeth. Sweetie blurred and doubled in her vision. A whimper escaped Scootaloo’s throat. Please.
Sweetie Belle sighed. “No, we wouldn’t want that.” The two continued down the path towards the clubhouse while Applejack wiped her brow and stood in place, expression blank.
“See you later, Applejack!” Sweetie Belle called over her shoulder.
“Huh? Oh… yeah, sure. See y'all!” Applejack waved her hat and let out a chuckle. It fell flat. Even as she rode away, Scootloo found herself glancing over withers. The farmer sat back on her haunches, head lowered. A chill crawled up Scootaloo’s spine.
“You coming?” Sweetie Belle yelled.
“Yeah...” Scootaloo shouted. After what seemed like forever, Applejack finally stood up and turned toward the other side of the orchard. Scootaloo could only make out her face for a second, but it was enough to burn the image of her bloodshot eyes into the back of her mind.
“Come on, Scootaloo! I’m hot.” Sweetie Belle whined.
“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” Scootaloo glanced at Sweetie, then back at Applejack, but the farmer was nowhere to be found.
“Scootaloo!” Sweetie Belle shouted.
“I said I’m coming!” Scootaloo shouted back. She gave the orchard once last look before chasing after Sweetie Belle. As the trees closed in around her, Scootaloo swore she heard a wail in the wind.