Scootaloo Will Fly!

by MyHobby


Got it Right the First Time

“You okay, Rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo said. She looked down at her honorary sister, who was lying on her back in the middle of the street. A scooter rolled a few additional meters down the road, until a pothole stopped it in its tracks.

Yeeeaaahhh?” Rainbow Dash lifted her head. Her helmet hung low over her eyes. “What happened?”

“You…” Scootaloo covered her mouth. She stifled a giggle. “You used your wings to try to steer. Exactly what I told you not to do.”

Rainbow Dash looked at her wings. “Traitors.”

“The wind caught you and pulled you right off the ground. And then you flipped.” Scootaloo snorted. “It was awesome until you hit the ground.”

Rainbow Dash sat up and removed the helmet. She handed it to Scootaloo and stood up with halting, jerky movements. Her back cricked. “Yup. Just what I needed. I think I’ll leave the scooting to you, Squirt.”

“Hay, I don’t know.” Scootaloo hopped over to her scooter and climbed aboard. It was her new scooter, just given to her on her birthday. She’d outgrown the last one. “You could get good if you practiced and stuff.”

“I’d have to practice a whole heck of a lot, it looks like.” Rainbow Dash ruffled Scootaloo’s mane. “Especially if I wanted to get as good as you.”

Scootaloo leaned on the scooter’s handlebars and pushed herself along with one hoof as she followed Rainbow Dash through Ponyville. Rainbow was not performing her usual hover above the ground. Instead, she was walking at a slow, sedate pace.

“You know I can keep up,” Scootaloo said. “You don’t need to keep yourself grounded for my sake.”

“Yes I do,” Dash said with a twinkle in her eye. “Besides, you in a hurry?”

“Nah, I guess not.” Scootaloo flicked an ear. “But when are you not?”

Rainbow Dash faced forward. The steady clop, clop, clop of her footsteps missed a beat. “Today.”

“What’s today?”

“I get the acceptance and or rejection letter from the Wonderbolts’ Academy. Year two this time.”

Scootaloo’s wings fluttered. “That’s awesome! We should race right to your house right now to see if—”

“Relax, Scootaloo.” Rainbow Dash touched her shoulder with a wingtip. “I already know what it’s gonna say.”

“What?” Scootaloo halted her scooter. “Really?”

“After the showing I put out in the Equestria Games and the academy last year?” Rainbow Dash gave Scootaloo a trademark confident grin. “Oh yeah.”

Scootaloo smiled, through her ears drooped. “So you’re gonna be gone for a month. Again.”

“Yup.” Rainbow Dash’s grin slacked at the corners. “You’re gonna have to cover for me in the position of Ponyville’s most awesome pegasus.”

Scootaloo’s wings hung low. “I’m gonna miss you, you know.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” Rainbow Dash said.

They walked and rolled in quiet for most of the street. Scootaloo could see Rainbow Dash’s cloudhouse hanging above the outskirts of town. “Rumble discovered his cutie mark yesterday.”

“Really?” Rainbow Dash swished her shoulder-length mane. “How’d that happen?”

“Not sure. Saw him after the fact.” Scootaloo kept her gaze on the road. “It’s a flag. I asked him if it was a racing flag or something cool like that. He said no, it’s a standard.”

“A standard?” Rainbow Dash furrowed her brow. “What sort of flag is that?”

“Like… like the kind they have in the Royal Guard.” Scootaloo’s throat bobbed. “The kind they use to identify armies and stuff. A rally point.”

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash’s front hooves jumped. “Oh. Is he, uh, does he want to join up?”

“He said he’s thinking about it. I mean, he’s really young right now,” Scootaloo said in a quiet voice. “But he might not. I mean, you said that a cutie mark isn’t always about—about a talent.”

“Did you ask him what the mark meant?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Nn—yeah.” Scootaloo got off her scooter and walked beside it. “He said it’s a standard he wants to live by. To live up to.”

“Well, good for him.” Rainbow Dash nodded. Quietly, she added, “Good for him.”

“When he—if he goes…” Scootaloo dipped her head. “Nevermind.”

Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo stopped at the edge of the cloudhouse’s shadow. Rainbow wet her lips. “Hay, Scootaloo—”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not… I don’t mean to…” Rainbow Dash slapped her face. “Come on, brain, work with my mouth, here.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to make everything you say an inspirational speech, you know.”

Rainbow Dash glowered. “Right.” She looked at Scootaloo. “Okay, then. For real. You know I’m loyal, right?”

“Me and all of Equestria.” Scootaloo gave a weak laugh. She shifted her scooter back and forth with her rear leg. “Comes with the job description.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash slipped a wing around Scootaloo’s shoulders. “So why do I get the sense you feel like you’re being abandoned? That shouldn’t happen when I’m around.”

Rainbow cringed. “I didn’t mean for that to sound like an ego-boost.”

“Well, what happens when you’re not around?” Scootaloo winced. “And that sounded like an accusation.”

Rainbow Dash bopped her head against Scootaloo’s. “Yeah, maybe we got issues. I just want you to know that I’m not abandoning you. I’ll always be there for you, just like all my friends. Maybe not right the second you need me, but pretty quick. Even if…”

“Even if you’re not physically present.” Scootaloo shuffled her hooves. “I know that in my head, but…”

“You gotta trust. That’s something you don’t wanna learn the hard way.” Rainbow Dash fluttered her wings. “Trust me on that.”

“There’s the inspirational speech I was waiting for,” Scootaloo giggled.

“Ha, ha.” Rainbow Dash looked up at her cloudhouse floating lazily in the air. Her ear flopped down. “Rumble isn’t abandoning you either. If he joins the service, it’s gonna be because he wants to protect you… and all his friends. His family.”

Scootaloo hung her helmet on the handlebars. “Yeah?”

Rainbow Dash slid her mailbox open and pulled out a white envelope. She spread her wings and gave them a stretch. “Different ponies join for different reasons, but that’s the sense I get from him.”

“Is that like a Pinkie Sense?” Scootaloo stood next to Rainbow Dash and copied her pose.

“Like a pony sense.” Rainbow Dash snickered. “I know I’m not the best judge of character, but some things speak louder to me.”

“Things about loyalty.”

“Yeah. Things about loyalty.”

Rainbow Dash flicker her mane, and Scootaloo understood it as the starting flag. They leaped up together, their wings buzzing, and both landed on the porch. Rainbow landed lightly, but Scootaloo stumbled. Dash reached out and caught her honorary sister. “Whoa! Take it easy, Squirt!”

Her ears perked up and she slapped the cloud. “Hay! Idea!”

She put both hooves on Scootaloo’s shoulders. “I know what we gotta do. When I’m gone.”

Scootaloo sucked in a small breath. “Yeah? What is it? What?”

“Pen pals,” Rainbow Dash said. “Like what me and Pinkie do. We’ll write each other what’s on our minds, and when we get a new letter, we respond to it in a new one.”

“I…” Scootaloo pressed her wings tight against her sides. “I’m not too good about putting things on paper…”

“So? It’s just me who’ll see them.” Rainbow Dash leaped into the air and hovered. “It’ll be like I’m there, even when I’m not. Heck, this way my inspirational speeches will be permanent.”

Scootaloo smiled. “Well… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Darn right.” Rainbow handed the envelope to Scootaloo. “Return address, Wonderbolts HQ in Cloudsdale.” She covered her eyes. “You open it, Squirt. Did I get in? Am I shunned forever? Which is it?”

Scootaloo tore the envelope open. She read over the contents for a moment, before she danced on her hooves and squealed. “Got it right the first time, Dash!”


Scootaloo slapped a hoof down on her alarm clock. She considered ripping the little bells off the top and going back to sleep. Five minutes later, the bells rang again. She bumped her nightstand with a wing and knocked the clock to the floor. Her pillow followed it as she pried herself loose from the covers and felt around the carpet.

When she found the clock, she set it on her nightstand and disabled the alarm. She stumbled over to her dresser and grabbed a comb. She started to run it through her mane before she got to the mirror. She blinked as her eyes focused. “Good ’nuff.”

She threw the brush across the room, where it clattered against the wall. She ignored it and walked down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

Her mom was munching on cereal. Roseluck looked up with her best friendly smile. “Good morning, Honey.”

“Mornin’.” Scootaloo focused her attention on making breakfast. She held a bowl in her hoof and slurped up the milk as she carried it back to her room. She shut the door and stuffed a few odds and ends into her saddlebags, including the letter to Rainbow Dash, as she ate.

“Like last night never happened, huh?” Scootaloo snorted as she strapped her bags around her middle and bit down on her toothbrush. “Yeah. Just keep that up, Mom. Keep it up.”

She threw her scooter over her back and skipped down the stairs. “Later!” she shouted as she made a beeline for the door. “Goin’ to the Acres!”

“Have a good day, Kid,” Davenport said.

“Hold on a sec, Honey!” Roseluck said. She held out the gardening book she’d been reading the previous night. “Would you mind returning this book on your way to or from work?”

Scootaloo’s eyes flickered between her mom’s face and the book. “Weren’t you only halfway done last night?”

“Well…” Roseluck’s ear twitched. “I’m a fast reader.”

Scootaloo snatched the book. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“I’m fine, Scootaloo.” Her mother’s friendly smile came undone. “Really. Have a good day at work.”

Once she’d stuffed the book in her saddlebags and headed out the door, Scootaloo unfolded her scooter and sped off towards the farm.

Applejack passed her on the road. The mayor tilted her hat, and Scootaloo inclined her head. “Don’t get into too much trouble, Sugarcube,” Applejack said as she tightened her cravat.

“Yes ma’am, your Lordship,” Scootaloo said.

“Hush up, you.”

Scootaloo tied her scooter to Sweet Apple Acres’ entrance arch. She held herself tall as she marched towards the barn. Apple Bloom stuck her head out the door. “Hurry it up, Scoots! Big Mac is gonna split the chores up.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Scootaloo quickened her pace by a beat. “Is this the part where you finally teach me how to buck apples?”

Apple Bloom tilted her head. “It ain’t even fall. There’s still buds on the trees.”

“You and your fancy logic.” Scootaloo slid past Apple Bloom and jumped on a hay bale. “You guys should be bucking all year round!”

“Ah’d thank you kindly t’ get off mah wagon,” Big Mac drawled. The hay bale shifted beneath Scootaloo as it was carted further into the barn. “Yer a little pony, but ah’d appreciate you not makin’ mah work that much harder.”

Scootaloo hopped down and saluted. “Sure thing, Mister Big Macintosh, sir.”

Big Mac looked at her with level eyelids. The stalk of wheat in his mouth slid from side to side. “Come on, ah’ll tell yah what we’re doin’ today.”

The wagon’s wheels creaked as they rolled along. “We got us a right pretty mess of a barn. Paint needs touchin’ up, and a few boards need t’ be replaced. Old hay needs t’ be carted out, new hay”—he jerked a shoulder back towards his burden—“needs t’ be brought in.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Roof looks nice, though.”

He scratched his scraggly, orange beard. “Scootaloo, how high can you paint?”

Scootaloo thought for a moment. She stood on her hind legs and reached upward.

Big Mac grimaced. “Alright. Y’ can scoop up the hay and put it into an empty wagon.”

Scootaloo looked at the dirty, old hay that lined the floor of several stalls. Stalls which were built to house community-minded, close-knit cows. Most cows tended to be nice folks, but not the most hygienic Sapients in the world.

“Yeeugh.” Scootaloo’s wings shivered. “Now I especially wish I could fly.”

Apple Bloom wrapped her mane in a bun. Her eyes widened. She gave Scootaloo a lopsided smile. “Say, ah know how she could help with the paint.”

“A ladder?” Scootaloo said.

“Balloon juice!” Apple Bloom frowned. “Oh. Ah guess a ladder would work.”

“Balloon juice?” Scootaloo backed away from Apple Bloom. “You do realize that if I drank that outside, there’d be no more Scootaloo. Right?”

“Sure, unless we tied you down.” Apple Bloom chuckled. “Yah know, like a real balloon!”

“I don’t think there’s a market for Scootalloons.”

Ahem.” Big Mac’s nose twitched as he got their attention. “We need a ladder anyway. You gonna help with the hay then, Apple Bloom?”

“Soon as ah get Scoots set up.” Apple Bloom draped a foreleg around Scootaloo and led her outside. “You owe me one fer this. Ah don’t like cleanin’ out the barn at all.”

“You owed me first.” Scootaloo looked way, way, way up at the barn. A faded, chipped image of a smiling Pinkie Pie covered it. “Vanity project?”

“Spirit lifter.” Apple Bloom handed Scootaloo a roller, a brush, and a scraper. She pointed at a pan of paint. “Scrape the loose chips, then roll the boards, then smooth it over with the brush if’n you got any thick spots. Don’t let it drip. Looks ugly when that happens.”

She tilted her head to the wall. “Try it out down here. Ah’ll get the ladder.”

Scootaloo wet the roller with red paint. She made a stripe on the wall, taking note of how the paint pooled up on either side. It started to drip, but she caught it with her brush.

Her eyes lit up.

She stuck her hoof in the paint and let the magic of the pegasi flow into it. She lifted a blob from the pan and held it in the air for a moment. About half a gallon, she figured. She set down the roller and separated a dab from the lot.

She flung the dab at the wall, where it stuck and spread as she guided it. Soon, a large portion of the wall was painted red, smooth and shining. She danced on her back hooves and fluttered her wings and she tossed a few more balls at the wall. She spun, drawing the paint out into a ring of color around her. She flicked paint upwards, creating a streak that went all the way to the top of the barn. She continued for a few more minutes, daubing and flicking, until she had used up the paint in the pan.

Her hooves were covered in red paint. She held them up and snickered. “Caught red-hooved.”

A clatter drew her attention to the side. Apple Bloom stood stock still, her mouth gaping. The ladder crumpled to the ground where she’d dropped it. Her green eyes tore themselves away from Scootaloo and crawled up the wall, which was now mostly red.

“Breathe, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said.

Heeee…

“Now come on,” Scootaloo said. “I’m out of paint, mare. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“This is some kinda horseapples.” Apple Bloom shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. “Ah was gone for like eight minutes!”

“Yeah?” Scootaloo stifled a snicker. “What took you so long?”

“Fer the love—” Apple Bloom shut her eyes. She shook. Big guffaws burst from her chest.

Big Mac rounded the corner with the wagon attached to his harness. “Whut’s so funny y’all gotta take time off t’—” He looked up at the wall. He blinked. “Huh.”

He looked at Scootaloo. “Water in the paint?”

“Eeyup,” Scootaloo said.

“Hmm.” He spat out his wheat stalk and bent down to pick up a grass blade. He munched and thought. “Ah think ah got a few more jobs for yah. Apple Bloom, get started on the barn while ah show Scootaloo the fixer-uppers.”

“Sure—sure thing, bro.” Apple Bloom laughed until she’d gone into the barn, a pitchfork tucked in her elbow.

Scootaloo peered back at the barn as she followed Big Macintosh. “Shouldn’t I finish that one before I start another?”

“Better ah show you what t’ do now,” Big Mac said. “That way, when yer done with one thing, yah can go on t’ the next right away.” His beard made scratching sounds as he ran a hoof over it. “The barn’ll take yah—what?—half an hour?”

“Gimme forty-five minutes,” Scootaloo said. “I just figured it out, you know.”

“Fair enough.” Big Mac pointed at a chicken coop as they passed. “Got a bucket of paint t’ put on that one. It’s lookin’ a little bare.”

He ran his hoof over the border fence built along the road. “Got some white yah could put on this. The whole thing, both sides.”

He stopped at the gate and unhitched himself. He held a hoof to his face to stifle a yawn. “S’cuse me.”

Scootaloo smirked. “I didn’t know Apples got tired.”

“Smart Aleck.” Big Mac walked across the road towards the south field. “Baby keeps Cheerilee and me up at night. We nap when Cinnamon naps.”

The Apple’s cabin in the south field was small and simple. Four walls, three rooms, bare wood trim, angled roof. Cheerilee stood off to the side, strapping her saddlebag-baby carrier combo onto her barrel. She plucked up a tiny, burgundy earth pony filly as she tried to waddle into the orchard. “Easy there, Cinnamon!”

Cinnamon blinked with big, green eyes. She pointed at a fruit held in Cheerilee’s other hoof. “Da?”

“Orange.” Cheerilee smiled as she let Cinnamon touch the fruit. “Or-ange.”

“Owngg,” Cinnamon said.

Big Mac’s constant dour expression vanished. He grinned with all his teeth as he trotted up to his wife and child. “Hay, Skinny Cinny! What color do y’ want t’ paint the house?”

Cinnamon reached up to her father’s massive mug and told him the word she’d just learned. “Owngg!”

“Big Mac, that’s cheating.” Cheerilee smirked and bounced the baby. “Tell him white goes with everything, Cinny.”

“Owngg!” Cinnamon blinked as Scootaloo came into view beside Big Mac. “Scooroo!”

“Hi, Cinny!” Scootaloo bent close and nuzzled the little filly. “You been good for mom and dad?”

“Owngg!” Cinnamon pulled on Scootaloo’s cheek. “Owngg!”’

Cheerilee’s curls bounced as she looked from pony to pony. “I thought you two were gonna be working on the barn today.”

“That was until Scootaloo here painted the entire east side of the barn in eight minutes.” Big Mac waved a hoof over the landscape. “She’s gonna be spending the day paintin’ some odds and ends here and there. Includin’ our cottage.”

Cheerilee let out a little gasp. “Did your wings finally—?” She held her breath and waited.

Scootaloo blinked. She turned away and waved a foreleg. “Naw, naw. I just figured out a cool way to use my special talent.” She showed Cheerilee the red on her hooves. “Who needs a paintbrush, huh?”

“Huh. I guess.” Cheerilee gave Big Mac a peck on the cheek. “I’m heading over to the schoolhouse for a teachers’ meeting. I’ll be back around supper.”

“Alright, Cheerilee.” Big Mac watched her go as she cantered off towards town. The smile didn’t leave his face until she was out of sight. All business, he nodded to Scootaloo. “Ah’ll get yah the paint. Y’ can head back to the barn.”


The barn took fifty minutes, most of which was taken up by experimenting with her abilities. The chicken coop hardly registered on the clock, and would have hardly registered as a job if she didn’t have to avoid painting the chickens magenta. The fence was an exercise in skill as she rode her scooter down the road, a swath of paint spraying out either side. By the time lunch rolled around, she’d painted most of the bare parts of the farmyard.

The cottage took a couple hours, just on account of how the bare, new wood soaked up paint. Orange paint, of course, in accordance with Cinnamon’s wishes. As she painted, the mental image of Cheerilee rolling her eyes in resigned exasperation jumped into Scootaloo’s head.

A little like her expression every time the Cutie Mark Crusaders returned from recess back in the day.

Scootaloo snickered as she strapped her helmet on. She waved goodbye to Apple Bloom and Big Mac and flew down the road. She’d been sent home mid-afternoon, with a lack of additional painting to be done. Some small part of her said she should have drawn the job out to several days, but that would have been dishonest.

Apple Bloom had agreed, and mentioned she’d try to convince her siblings to pay Scootaloo by the job instead of the hour. Since Big Mac had actually smiled at the way the barn shimmered, her chances for that looked pretty good.

She sighed as she reached the edge of town. The library was her next stop, but between Sweet Apple Acres and the library lay Town Hall. The center of law and civil service. The bastion of justice and fairness. The squatting grounds of dissatisfied citizens.

Ponies stood in a picket line before the building, holding up signs and posters. Scootaloo read a few as she passed: “Impeach Apple!” “Revert the Budget!” “Eliminate even the toughest stains!”

She stared at that last one for a while, before it was flipped and she realized the real message had been printed inside a box of cleaner.

Miss Mare, the former Lord Mayor of Ponyville, stood at the head of the crowd, holding a megaphone. “What do we want?”

“Celebrations!” the crowd answered.

“What do we want them for?”

“Everything!”

“Mayor Applejack promised to repair the roads when she was elected,” Miss Mare said. “So when she was elected, she cancelled the Nightmare Night concert! She refused to buy the town Hearth’s Warming Tree! She tore up what little roads we did have and replaced them all with circuitous detours! Are the detours gone?”

“No!”

Scootaloo parked her scooter at the edge of the crowd. She leaned on a nearby lantern stand, her eyelids low.

“The roads are not repaired, and the citizens say, ‘Where are our parties?’”

“Where are our parties?”

“Where are our celebrations?”

“Where are our celebrations?”

“What’s next, fellow citizens?” Miss Mare tossed her gray-streaked, white mane. “Shall she cancel Hearts and Hooves day? Shall she say there will be no Running of the Leaves? What of the Sisterhooves Social?”

“She always paid for the Social out of her own pocket!” Scootaloo yelped, but she was drowned out by the mob of agreement Miss Mare received.

“You come to watch the fun, too?” a voice asked from behind her. “Or are you just interested in the politics of ponies?”

Scootaloo turned and faced Diamond Tiara. She squinted. “Fun, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Diamond brushed Scootaloo aside with a bump of her shoulder. “It’s almost hilarious watching Ponyville turn against its oldest family.”

“There’s like a thousand people living in Ponyville,” Scootaloo said. “There’s like fifty here. Vocal minority.”

“Very vocal.” Diamond giggled. “I don’t think anypony has the heart to tell Miss Mare that her megaphone’s run out of magic charge.”

Scootaloo blew a tight breath through her lips. “You think they’d notice?”

“Come on, Crusader, enjoy what the Bearlin folks call schadenfreude.” Diamond Tiara reached up and adjusted the small, diamond-encrusted crown on her head. “It means pleasure in suffering.”

“That sounds like you, alright.” Scootaloo climbed aboard her scooter and flapped her wings. “You know what’s really funny?”

Diamond Tiara tossed her mane. “What?”

“By the time election year rolls around and Applejack gets kicked out,” Scootaloo said, “all the roads will be fixed, and she’ll start including community celebrations in the budget again.”

Diamond tilted her head. “So all this arguing and complaining… will be worthless?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “A little bit, yeah.”

Diamond licked her lips. “And they’ll still feel like they won. That is funny.”

Scootaloo took off at full speed and left Diamond Tiara in a cloud of dust. The pink mare coughed and hacked, though she was drowned out by the protestors’ rants.

It was practically a hop, skip, and a jump to the library. New Golden Oaks Library had been grown from one of the original’s seeds, salvaged from the explosion that had destroyed it. It had taken the earth pony biomancers five years to grow it large enough to house books, let alone a certain teenage dragon, but in the end it was even more beautiful than before.

It had a full second floor, instead of a loft. There was a massive bathroom that pulled water right from the town’s reservoir and shifted the used liquid through a filtering system Twilight had installed in the basement. It would have smelled like a sewer, if Rarity hadn’t known several scent-masking spells. Several thousand, in fact.

(1): Word had it that Applejack was pushing to get Ponyville classified as a city, though it wasn’t anywhere near a city-state like Cloudsdale yet.

The diameter of the trunk was doubled, as befit a library in the growing town of Ponyville (1). There was a small kitchen just behind the recipe book section, but otherwise literature held free reign of the ground floor layout. There were more reading areas, plenty of shelf space, and a hefty cabinet that held the book-sorting system.

“Hay, Spike,” Scootaloo said as she walked inside. She looked around, but didn’t see the dragon anywhere. “Spike?”

“In the kitchen!” Spike’s voice was slightly deeper, though still unmistakably his. A purple snout poked its way out of the doorway. “Can I get yah something? Sandwich? Soda?”

“No thanks.” Scootaloo plopped her mom’s borrowed book on the counter. “Just returning something and having a look-see. Got anything new?”

Spike popped an emerald in his mouth and munched. He walked on all fours to one shelf in particular. “Got a few in just today. There’s the new Daring Do book, complete with the ‘Now a major motion picture’ sticker.”

“Okay, I’ll be taking that at least.” Scootaloo hopped over and snatched it out of Spike’s claws. “I wonder if Rainbow Dash’s read it yet?”

“All signs point to ‘Oh, yeah.’” Spike grinned, his diamond-hard fangs glinting. “So, did you manage to fly Saturday? Sorry we didn’t get to hang out.”

“That’s alright. You had a job.” Scootaloo gave the back copy of the book a brief read. “And no, I didn’t. Haven’t given up yet, though.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Spike popped a knuckle and lumbered back towards the kitchen. “Have a look around. I’ll be right back after I’ve had my daily dose of minerals.”

“Gotchya.” Scootaloo flipped the Daring Do book open. “Daring Do and the Valley of the Lesser Light. Cool.”

After a few minutes of reading, she noticed Spike shelving books. She opened her mouth to speak, but cut herself off.

Spike was strong. His arms and legs were all muscle, which rippled beneath his scales. His tail was strong enough to lift an apple cart all by itself. Even so, his claws delicately lifted books and set them in place. He breathed lightly, so as not to singe the paper.

His forked tongue slithered out of his mouth, tasting the air. Possibly even smelling moods, judging by the way he turned to face her. “What’s up, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo shifted her wings. “Ah, this is kinda embarrassing—”

“Embarrassment and I are real good buddies,” Spike chuckled. “What’s on your mind? Maybe I can help.”

Scootaloo shuffled back and forth. “Do you think you’ll ever fly?”

Spike stiffened. He looked back, between his shoulder blades. His scales lay bare before him. He turned back and coughed. “Well… I don’t know.”

She took a step closer. “I mean, you’ve seen more than I have, but… don’t all dragons have wings?”

Spike tapped his claws together. “Yeah. All I’ve seen, too. Except for me.”

He scratched his forearm. A few white scales flaked loose. “I’ve never had wings, even when I grew up that one time. Full size. Or when Twilight hatched me. I just don’t know if they haven’t developed yet or what.”

Scootaloo set the book on a table. She pressed her lips together as she considered his words, and her next ones. “Do you wanna fly?”

Spike frowned. He opened his mouth to speak multiple times, though he closed it just as quickly. He held his hands out. “Sure? I’d love to. I mean, if it’s in the works. I sure wouldn’t say ‘no.’”

Scootaloo felt the corner of her mouth turn up. “But you wouldn’t cry for months if you couldn’t?”

“No real use crying over what you can’t do,” Spike said. “Not when there’s a million things you can do.”

Scootaloo flicked her tail. “What if it’s something you really want to do?”

“Well…” Spike turned around, climbed the ladder, and shelved a few books. “Then heck, keep trying. We all gotta have dreams. Just cause I don’t need to fly doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

“I figured that.” Scootaloo walked across the room with a few quick strides. “I’m just trying to get a few different perspectives. See what other people think.”

Spike smiled down from the ladder. “I think I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks.” Scootaloo leaned against the sturdy bookshelf. “So what’s your dream?”

“Hmm?” Spike paused with a book in his hand. “My dream?”

Scootaloo blew her curl up out of her eyes. “Yeah. What do you want outta life? What are you aiming for?”

Spike stared at the book, Rheumatism and its Remedies, with glazed eyes.

“I mean, even if you can’t get a cutie mark…” Scootaloo paused. She flapped her wings with slow, steady beats. “You gotta have something, right?”

Spike’s shoulders slumped. “I guess I wanna help.”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “Help?”

“Like, just help where I’m needed. Like at the library, or the fire department.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Scootaloo. “I’m almost off my suspension, you know.”

“So your ultimate goal in life is to serve others?” Scootaloo gave him a brief guffaw. “Way to aim high, Spike.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “It’s important to me.”

Scootaloo looked at him. Their gazes met. “It really is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Spike slid down the ladder and trundled across the room on his rear legs. It was pretty slow going with his draconic build. “Seeing my friends live a little easier… well, when I think about that, I can see how much flying matters to you.”

Scootaloo picked the Daring Do book off the table and carried it to the checkout counter. “So long as you don’t become a doormat.”

“Please,” Spike said. He stamped the date into the book and marked it down on his records. “Do I look like a doormat? Do I act like a doormat? I’m the only dragon who can say he’s a citizen of Equestria. I don’t think ponies would even consider ‘doormat’ when I’m around.” He bared his teeth. “More like they’d think, ‘please don’t eat me.’”

“They would not.” Scootaloo prodded his chest. “You’re as soft and squishy as a marshmallow.”

She frowned as her hoof bumped against pure muscle. “On the inside, I mean.”

Spike’s eyes widened as he took in her orange, white, magenta, and red paint-covered forelegs. “New dye job?”

Scootaloo put all four hooves on the floor. Her cheeks lit up. “Something like that.”