Everypony was cowering in their houses as Zecora walked through the empty streets of Ponyville. She needed a special type of purple flower but as usual all of the shops were closed. The town seemed to be abandoned. Zecora sighed and started to walk back home, wondering why she even bothered anymore.
As she made her way through the Everfree forest, she saw something she had never noticed on her previous journeys. In a grove off to her left was small tree, covered in purple leaves. It wasn't what she was looking for but perhaps a purple leave would be just as good as a purple flower. Using her mouth She plucked a few leaves off of the tree and placed them in her striped saddle bag.
Back at her tribal hut, Zecora placed the leaves into a bowl and ground them up into a mush. Then, adding a dash of spice weed, she dumped the contents of the bowl into her already filled caldron. She mixed the potion until the orange liquid began to bubble and turn green. She then ladled a portion of the mixture into a hoof sized beaker and pushed a stopper down its neck.
The next day, Zecora stood at the edge of the Everfree, sprinkling the contents of the beaker onto the ground. When she finished her task she watched and waited for a moment. The potion should have caused the green grass to turn a shade of purple and release a timber-wolf-repelling perfume into the air, but nothing seemed to be happening.
Suddenly Zecora flinched back and covered her eyes with a foreleg as a blinding light flashed across her line of sight.
When the light had faded, she opened her eyes again and peered down at the grass. Still green. 'It seems purple leaves hold no power, and I must continue my search for the purple flower.' Zecora thought to herself. She turned around and headed back into the forest, all the while looking down to make certain the grass was not changing.
Meanwhile....
Scootaloo stood in shock as she gazed at her reflection in the small pool. She blinked her eyes a few times and sat back on her haunches to think. This was by far the strangest dream she had ever had.
"But it's not a dream, is it?" Scootaloo quietly whispered to herself. "Everything looks so real. And I can actually feel wind blowing through my hair.... Well, on the plus side, being a colorful flying pony beats living with Aunt Beatrice."
She stood back up and- on four legs this time- stumbled back over to her scooter. Scootaloo wasn't positive but the scooter seemed to be smaller- more in proportion with her pony self than with her human self. She glanced behind her to see that her backpack had also changed with her, it was now a pair of magenta saddlebags.
Scootaloo tried to use her new hoofs to remove the bags, but she couldn't quite figure out the right way to bend her arm in order to reach them. Finally she gave up and decided to use her mouth instead. This worked out much easier.
The newly turned filly, emptied the contents of her bags onto the ground and began to look over everything. It was to bizarre, every single thing had changed in someway or another. In the one bag was a pony-sized sleeping bag. In the other her dollars had tuned to small gold coins, her bag of beef jerky had tuned into a bag of hay, and her water bottle had a flip off lid instead of one that screwed off. The only thing that had not been ponyfied was a picture she had grabbed on the way out of her house, of her dad and she.
A single tear fell onto the glass frame, as Scootaloo gazed down at the picture. She remembered the day it had been taken. Her dad was teaching her how to fish at a lake next to their campsite. She liked digging through the dirt to find worms and putting them on the hook, but she had trouble casting. The hook kept on getting caught in the trees behind her and when she went to untangle it she somehow ended up covered in tree sap. When she did finally get the bait in the water, a few minutes later she hooked a foot long catfish. In the photo her father was smiling down at her with his arm on her shoulder and she was grinning from ear to ear, covered in tree sap and holding up her first fish.
Scootaloo hugged the picture to her chest then reloaded her saddle bags and placed them on her back.
Looking up at the sky, Scootaloo realized it would soon be dark. She began searching for a place to curl up for the night. There were small buildings in the distance but it would probably be a bad idea to go wondering around an unfamiliar town at night. A tree might work though. She was a great climber and the heights of a tree always brought her comfort.
Scootaloo jumped on her scooter and made her way over to a tree at the edge of the forest. Surprisingly enough riding the scooter was actually easier for her than trying to walk with four legs. Fairly soon Scootaloo realized that having four legs also made it difficult to climb- actually more like impossible. Flying up the tree was not an option either, her wings were pretty much useless. After a couple minuets of trying to get them to unfold, all she managed was to wiggle a few feathers. "What good are wings if they don't even work?" Scootaloo mumbled under her breath.
Letting out a sigh of defeat, Scootaloo pulled out her sleeping bag and curled up inside it at the base of the tree. She decided that tomorrow she would try to figure everything out. Despite the uncomfortableness of a new body and the hard ground, Scootaloo quickly fell into a deep sleep.