//------------------------------// // I Got Time to Kill and I Just Found the Murder Weapon // Story: Scootaloo Will Fly! // by MyHobby //------------------------------// Scootaloo leaned on the counter of Ponyville’s Post Office. She tapped a hoof against a little bell. “Hello? Service? I need a stamp, here.” Featherweight came barreling out of the sorting room. He skidded to a stop, reached out a twig-like limb, and grasped his hat off a coat rack. He plopped it on his head while he polished his name badge. “Hi, Scootaloo. What can I do for you today?” Scootaloo dropped her letter on the countertop. “Stamp. I need to mail this pronto.” Featherweight picked up the letter. His wings spread out as his face scrunched up. “There are two pieces of paper in here.” Scootaloo grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna charge me double for—” “No, no, that’s not it. This is legal.” Featherweight eyed the envelope. “It’s just not every day you see somepony mail two letters at the same time…” Scootaloo leaned on her elbow. “How long have you worked here, again?” “About a week.” Featherweight adjusted his red bowtie. “Gots tah make some money, gots tah pay the bills…” Scootaloo held her hoof out under the pretense of examining it. “Gots tah woo the princess…” “Gots tah woo the—” Featherweight blinked. He scowled at her. “I’ll have you know that I’ve actually gone on a date with Princess Twilight. That’s step one.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard her fervently deny that it was a date. Several times.” “Ha.” Featherweight broke a stamp off of a roll. “You wanna lick it, or are you gonna make me do it?” “And get your creepy stallion germs all over it?” Scootaloo snatched it. “Gimme.” With the stamp in place, she slid the letter across the counter. “To Cloudsdale, via Pony Express Delivery.” “Your letter is in PED’s safe hooves,” Featherweight droned. “Thank you, have a nice day.” “You, too,” Scootaloo said. “Kiss the princess for me, will yah?” “Kiss my cutie mark, Scootaloo.” Featherweight smiled as he waved goodbye. She rolled through town, avoiding the flower shops and anywhere particularly political. She had a few hours to kill before she was expected back home. Burning daylight required a few precise decisions. She had the time, she had the motive, but she required a proper weapon and location. Princess Twilight Sparkle’s castle gleamed in the sunlight, blinding her. Scootaloo stuck her rear hooves into the ground and rolled to a stop. She covered her face and peered at the massive crystalline formation near the edge of town. A home fit for a princess, perhaps, but at times a literal eyesore. It did wonders for the local tourist economy, though. A second later, the glare went away. A shadow fell over Scootaloo, and most of the town along with her. Cloudkicker flew overhead, barking orders to the Ponyville Weather Team. Scootaloo could see Rumble in the thick of it. He nudged a few clouds into position over the marketplace and used a few beats of his wings to smooth them out. Scootaloo watched them for a while, her eyes assisted by innate pegasus magic. She killed a few minutes watching how their bodies bent and flexed in flight, how their wings flapped and their tails flicked. Her own wings and tail flicked to match, copying movements to the best of her ability. With the base cloud cover assembled, the pegasi retreated higher to adjust the inner workings of the coming weather pattern. She gripped the handlebars on her scooter. “Oh yeah. We’re getting there.” She felt the wind blow past her as she beat her wings. She pulled it in and pushed it behind her. Building flew by in a blur, and ponies called as she passed. She lifted a hoof to wave, but was usually gone before she could say anything. Her eyes lit up as she passed Sweetie Belle’s shop. It wouldn’t be too much trouble just to stop in. If Sweetie was with a customer, she could just say hi and waltz back out. If not, hay, there’s an hour to send to the morgue. She performed a quick three-sixty and skidded to a stop in front of the shop. She found herself parked next to a griffon. Its beak was moving, and small words were coming out, but it looked like a private conversation. So private, in fact, that there was nopony speaking with him. He stared at the door to the Boutique, muttering to himself. He didn’t seem to notice as she locked the scooter to a streetlamp and walked up beside him. “Don’t be alarmed, I’m a griffon,” he muttered just above his breath. “No, that didn’t work last time, either.” Scootaloo, being short for a pegasus, felt tiny compared to even a midsized griffon like this guy. Her eyebrows came up to his shoulder. Her hoof was a fraction of the size of his paw. His wingspan reached twice as far as hers. Even with all of that, he still jumped back with a little shriek when she tapped his side. “Are you okay, sir?” “What?” the griffon brushed down the fur and feathers that had stood on end. “Um, yes. Of course. Thank you.” “You… um…” Scootaloo swallowed a lump that formed in her throat as the griffon turned his head full to the side to look directly at her. It was a plenty unnerving to see someone with eyes on the sides of their head instead of the front, full range of sight notwithstanding. “You looking for somepo—somebody?” The griffon’s fuzzy ears angled towards her. “Yeah. Sompony, actually. I was just… going to look through the shop for a gift to a friend.” Scootaloo turned towards the Boutique, glad to have an excuse not to look at the griffon’s eagle eyes. “Well, hate to say it and don’t tell Sweetie Belle, but Carousel Boutique doesn’t have the best window shopping. You’d do better actually, you know, going inside.” “Well, that is—” The griffon’s front legs did a nervous little dance, like a chickadee that wasn’t sure if it wanted to take off or not. “I would rather not scare the patrons or the owner away. I tend to do that.” Scootaloo lifted an eyebrow. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?” “Actually, I live here. Occasionally.” The griffon clicked his beak. “Why do you say that?” “Splendid!” Discord said as he exited the Boutique. “Absolutely splendiferous! You say it’ll be done on Thursday?” Behind him, draped in various fabrics and attempting to adjust a frizzy mane, was Sweetie Belle herself. She gave a slow, even nod. Discord stood up straight and saluted with his left hand. “I’ll be by to pick it up—” “No need! No need!” Sweetie Belle waved her forelegs. “I’ll have it—ah—delivered! Yes! Delivered right to your home! The very instant it’s done. Yes.” Discord frowned. He took a bow, said “Very well. Rarity would be proud!” and vanished into thin air. Sweetie Belle adjusted her glasses, which had gone lopsided sometime in the hour the draconequus had been there. Her eyes lit up when she saw Scootaloo and the griffon standing outside. “Oh my gosh, people! Please come in! Please, please come in.” Scootaloo smirked at the griffon and walked inside. The griffon stared at the Boutique with his beak unhinged. He clapped it shut, smoothed down his feathers, and strode through the door. Sweetie curtsied. “Good afternoon, sir, and welcome to Carousel Boutique, where the fashion is chic, unique and magnifique. How may I suit your fancy today?” “Thank you,” the griffon said. “I was hoping to purchase a scarf for a friend.” “Very good,” Sweetie said. “Would you like to peruse the scarves I have available, or would you like to commission a custom piece?” “I’ll… see what you got.” “Alright. What is your friend’s coat color?” “It’s a… light sky-blue?” Sweetie smiled and slipped into one of her back rooms. The smile she gave Scootaloo was just as friendly, though a little more tired. The griffon snapped his talons. “You must be Scootaloo.” It was Scootaloo’s turn to jump. “Who wants to know?” “Ha.” The griffon turned his head sideways again. “I’m Martial Paw. I’ve been working with Rainbow Dash on the movie. You know the one?” “Yeah. Daring Do.” Scootaloo stretched her wings in and out. “You an actor or something?” “No,” Martial said. “No. Historical advisor, actually. Subject matter expert. I’m an archeologist.” “Oh, cool,” Scootaloo said. “Like Daring Do? Have you worked with her?” “Um.” Martial Paw blinked. “Daring Do is a fictional—” Scootaloo sat in one of the waiting chairs. “Relax, I know about Yearling. Rainbow Dash told me about it.” Martial Paw clicked his beak. He cleared his throat. “Does Rainbow Dash regularly share matters of national security with her younger sister?” “Only when they make for good stories.” Scootaloo chuckled. “So how’d you end up getting a job in Applewood?” “Rainbow Dash recommended me after she was cast as Dr. Do.” Martial glared at one of the chairs for a moment. He sat down with a sigh. “We met after she got caught up in another one of her world-saving escapades.” “And how’d you meet Daring?” “Dr. Do hired me as a cartographer,” Martial said. “She said something about following the ‘buddy system.’” “Right. Buddy system’s important.” Scootaloo glanced at the magazines on the table. There were a few new ones, most of which featured Rarity. “You said you live here?” “Just occasionally. When there’s a dig in the Everfree.” Martial tapped his talons together. “Though I’m thinking of setting up a more permanent residence.” “Really.” Scootaloo looked toward the back room, where sounds of rummaging could be heard. “The scarf’s for Rainbow Dash, isn’t it?” Martial turned his beak towards her. “Yes. Something of a ‘welcome home’ present, I guess. Something to thank her for being a good friend.” Scootaloo didn’t know whether to be thankful that he was facing her or annoyed that he wasn’t making eye contact. “Word to the wise, she really likes white.” Martial’s beak turned up at the corners. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Sweetie Belle carried a rainbow of scarves behind her in her magic grasp. “It’s quite glamorous to serve a griffon; we don’t get many in Ponyville. Are you visiting from the griffon kingdom?” “Ah, no.” Martial stood and rummaged around in his shoulder-slung sack. He pulled out a sheet of paper with a royal stamp. “I was born in Felaccia, but I am an Equestrian citizen.” Scootaloo leaned forward. “You really have to carry that around?” “It… tends to come up.” Martial slid the citizenship papers into his sack. He perused the scarves with a keen eye. “Rainbow likes white, you say?” “Oh!” Sweetie Belle shuffled a few from the pile. “Of course an aviator such as Miss Dash would appreciate scarves. Things must be chilly that high up.” She grinned. “This purple one would match her eyes.” “It would, wouldn’t it?” Martial scratched his beak. He pointed to a soft, wooly scarf. “I think this one would do.” Sweetie Belle assisted him at the cash register, bagged the item, and waved goodbye as he soared off. She slumped to the ground soon after. “I hate Discord.” Scootaloo slid up beside her and rubbed her back. “You really nailed that whole ‘Retail Smile’ thing. I wouldn’t have guessed.” “I hate Discord!” Sweetie shouted. Her glasses slid down her nose. “He brought the flannel to life! It started eating the silk!” She caught her glasses in her magic as they slid towards the ground. “He kept calling me Rarity’s daughter. Her daughter, Scootaloo! It doesn’t matter how many times I correct him, it just…” She waved a hoof over her head. “Whoosh!” “That’s…” Scootaloo shrugged. “Rough.” “It’s not even the final nail in the coffin.” Sweetie Belle dragged Scootaloo into the inspiration room, where a sketch sat upon an easel. “I checked the calendars. Fluttershy’s birthday was two months ago. He’s doing this just to torment me!” She sat down and stared at the drawing. “He’s so… childish.” Scootaloo patted Sweetie’s shoulder with a wing. “I really doubt he’s putting this together just to rag on you. Maybe he wants to get a head start on next year’s birthday.” “He is insane. Insane and evil.” Sweetie stood up and pushed Scootaloo’s wing away. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get to work.” “Need some help?” Scootaloo flapped her wings. “I could, like, model or something.” “Scootaloo, no offence.” Sweetie made a box with her hooves and examined her friend. “You’re sleek and lean. Fluttershy is one-hundred percent curves by volume.” She gathered up a few rolls of fabric. “I’d have a better chance modeling myself.” Scootaloo snickered. “Too bad Pinkie closed up the mirror pool.” “Don’t think I haven’t considered it.” Sweetie examined a pattern before tossing it to the side. “Thank you for the offer, but I think I’ve got this.” “Hay, if you ever need anything, you know where to holler.” Scootaloo held up a glittering gold ticket. “So, you wanna see the new Daring Do movie?” “That just started today, didn’t it?” Sweetie carried some pins in her mouth to a ponnequin. “I’m sorry, Scootaloo, but I’ve got a lot of work to do over the next few days.” “We’ll see it on Thursday, to celebrate another job well done!” “Eegh.” “What?” The pins in Sweetie’s mouth pointed up as she frowned. “I never really liked those books.” Scootaloo froze. She crossed her forelegs. “Since when?” Sweetie flicked her tail. “Since I grew out of grade school.” “Wow.” Scootaloo rubbed her face. “Wow, geeze, Sweetie.” She returned the ticket to her bags. “Way to toss in the offhand insult.” Sweetie Belle let out a little gasp. She turned her nose up. “It’s perfectly fine if I don’t enjoy all the same books that—” “It’s not even that!” Scootaloo brushed her mane back. “What even makes you happy anymore? I mean, you are really, seriously grumpy. Especially the last few days.” Sweetie’s eyes turned down. “Not all of us have charmed lives, Scootaloo.” “And I do?” Scootaloo said. “I mean, really? I don’t—” Scootaloo’s mouth snapped shut. She closed her eyes tight. “I’m sorry. That was dumb of me. I’ll let you work.” She walked to the door. “Wait,” Sweetie said. “I… can come.” Scootaloo looked over her shoulder, her eyebrows low. “It will be fun, just hanging out with you guys again.” Sweetie rubbed her hooves together. “I always have so much fun with you. Thank you.” Scootaloo slouched in the doorway. “I don’t wanna force it on you. Really, I don’t.” “You aren’t. You’re just…” Sweetie lifted a roll of fabric and draped it across the ponnequin. “You just want to help me out of a slump. Or something.” Scootaloo put on her best reassuring smile. It didn’t quite meet her usual standard. “Is it working?” “Maybe.” Sweetie made a small correction to the sketch. “Could you help me with one favor?” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Will you please deliver the dress Thursday? On your way to or from work? I’d really rather not face Discord again. Ever, if at all possible.” “Sure,” Scootaloo said. “What are friends for?” “Saving my life, apparently.” Sweetie shook her head. “See you later.” “Yeah,” Scootaloo said. “See yah.” Scootaloo had too much to think about, and too much time to viciously murder. She streaked through town, keeping to the streets that weren’t very busy. She’d knocked over too many pedestrians as a kid; there was no telling how much damage she could do as an adult. She passed a small square with a fountain in the middle. The pumps were low-key, barely enough to keep the water flowing. A few foals played around or tossed bits into the pool. “You’re pretty close,” Rumble said from her left, “but Rainbow Dash’s rainbow is in her mane.” Scootaloo yelped and came to a grinding halt. She stared at Rumble for a few moments, pondering what he said, before she let her eyes drop to her paint-covered hooves. “You’re a riot.” “A prison riot.” Rumble landed beside her. “So what’s the story behind Rainbow McCrayon-Hooves?” Scootaloo dusted off her scooter with her tail. “You’re trying to be clever and it’s not working.” “Alright,” Rumble said. He shifted weight from hoof to hoof as she got back on her scooter. “Candid, then. I thought you were working today.” “I was, but then I learned how to paint with magic.” She waved her hooves in front of his face. “I painted the barn in less than an hour.” Rumble’s eyes popped. “You’re just chewing the cud.” “Nope.” Scootaloo leaned on her handlebars. “I painted a chicken coop in the time it takes to blink. Then I painted a cottage in two hours. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot the entire fence along the road to Sweet Apple Acres.” Rumble’s lips hung slack. “Teach to me your secret, oh wise one.” “What’s to teach?” Scootaloo shrugged. “It’s like pushing clouds around, only you put a little more oomph into it.” She skipped over to the fountain and drew forth a snake of water. “Like so. Try it out.” Rumble stuck his hoof in and wiggled it around. Bubbles formed. “I’m not feeling it, Scoots.” “You gotta practice.” Scootaloo sat on the edge of the fountain and juggled blobs of water. “Just grab a drop or two.” She watched him splash the water, attempting to separate a few sprinkles. She snorted. “Hay, Taxi.” She tossed a water blob at him. “Catch!” It exploded against his face. He shook his head, snorting and coughing. He blinked back tears as he looked up at her. “Taxi?” “From the other night, remember?” Scootaloo smirked and spread her wings. “We can keep doing that until you figure it out. How’s that sound?” “I think…” Rumble closed his eyes and waved his legs. “No, no, wait. I think I feel it. I think I see what you mean.” He dipped his hoof back in the water. “I think… I think…” He splashed Scootaloo with a wave that drenched her back and wings with cold water. She shrieked and jumped into the air. “I think I got you!” he laughed. She landed on her hooves a few meters away, next to her scooter. She shivered as she flapped her wings free of moisture. She giggled and flicked a few drops at him. “Jerk.” The sky darkened as the clouds grew thicker. A few of the kids around the fountain were shuffling and thinking about heading inside. “Storm coming?” Scootaloo asked. “Rain tomorrow, lightning Wednesday.” He flicked water back at her. “Some light sprinkling today.” “That sucks for you and Spike trimming lawns tomorrow.” Rumble grimaced. “We’ll manage. It’s just the overflow in preparation for the real storm.” Scootaloo snorted. “Nice of you guys to schedule a thunderstorm when I’m babysitting for the Cakes. Rice and Patty are gonna love it.” “What can I say?” Rumble said. “Cloudkicker’s the boss.” “Hmm.” Scootaloo rubbed her chin as she spotted a lighter bunch of clouds. “How deep of trouble would you get if you bucked that particular patch of cloud on my mark?” “None.” Rumble craned his neck. “I could fix it up pretty quick without ruining anything. Why?” “I got time to kill, and I think I just found the murder weapon.” Scootaloo rubbed her hooves together. “Head on up there and wait for my signal.” Rumble jumped into the air. “What’s the signal?” “You’ll know it when you see it.” Scootaloo strapped her helmet on tight. “Go for it, Taxi.” “That’s not as cute as you think it is.” “Whatever you say, Cabbie.” “That might be worse.” “Exactly.” She leapt onto her scooter and buzzed around the fountain. “Hay, kids, wanna see a trick? Step back, please, and watch closely.” The kids pitter-pattered back a few steps, enough room for Scootaloo to roll around the fountain without rolling over anypony. She orbited around, her hoof trailing in the water. After a moment, she could feel the entire pool revolving around with her. A small crowd drew as the first drops lifted out of the fountain. They continued to spin around as she rolled, at first not as fast as she was, but soon picking up speed. She glanced up and noted that Rumble was in just the right spot, watching with a raised eyebrow. She hit a bump in the road and shot into the air. She rose up until she was right beside Rumble. For that brief moment, she was weightless. No strings attached, no worries dragging her down, no issues clouding her vision. It was clear skies, open air, and Rumble. She leaned out and kissed him on the cheek. She must have broken something in his head, because she was halfway to the ground before he bucked the cloud and sent sunlight streaming towards the fountain. The light hit the whirlwind of water droplets, and refracted into a countless colors. Scootaloo landed in front of her rainbow tornado and flared her wings out. The small crowd applauded heartily. She bowed as the rainbow died away. “Thank you, folks, thank you. I live in Ponyville, so I’m here for good. You’re a lovely audience.” She rolled down the street at a sedate pace, satisfaction spread across her face. She heard flapping wings as Rumble caught up with her. She kept her eyes on the road, but she could feel his eyes on her. “You amaze me,” he said. “You always, always amaze me.” The tips of Scootaloo’s ears grew hot. “Y-you’re just saying that.” “No I’m not.” Rumble rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re… special. I’m not sure how else to say it, but you’re very, very special.” “Any pegasus could do what I just—” “Then why don’t they?” Rumble flipped around and flew in front of her. His wings beat harder as he flew backwards. “I mean, seriously. I don’t know of any others who can do what you do.” Scootaloo’s scooter slowed until she was inching along. She met his gray-purple gaze. “I—” She stopped. He dropped to the ground with a thump and took a couple steps closer. “I think it’s okay to be a little proud, isn’t it?” “Don’t—” Scootaloo turned away and choked out a laugh. “Don’t wanna get too big a head, right?” Rumble’s lopsided grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is it pride if it’s true?” “Yeah,” Scootaloo said. “Yeah, it is.” “It’s still true.” Rumble’s grin gained a little strength. “Ain’t nopony like you.” Scootaloo felt like her ears could boil water and her cheeks could fry an egg. “Y-you’re a real sweet talker, you know that?” Rumble tilted his head, his left ear flicking down. “Words are all I got, so it’s all I can give.” Scootaloo dug her rear-left hoof into the ground. “I don’t really believe that.” “Believe what?” “That that’s all you’ve got to give.” Scootaloo pressed her wings against her sides. “I mean, your cutie mark says otherwise.” A shiver ran across Rumble’s body. His eyes turned to look back at his flank, but his neck locked up to prevent it. “I dunno, Scoots.” “Aw, this is too heavy!” She leaped up and wrapped her right foreleg around his neck. He stumbled tipsily under the lopsided, unexpected weight. “When did we become Ponyville’s philosophers? Let’s do something nuts!” Rumble braced himself and stood to his full height. Scootaloo’s hooves dangled above the road. “How long’ve you got before you gotta go home for supper?” “’Bout an hour.” Scootaloo reached over Rumble to climb onto his back, but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a pot smash. She turned her head and got an eyeful of the shop they’d stopped in front of, particularly the name on the sign: “Three Flowers Greenhouse.” “Or, you know, less.” A cream-coated mare bent down to clean up scattered pottery shards and dirt. “Hi, Honey.” “Hay, Mom,” Scootaloo said. She jumped off of Rumble and helped her mother gather up the mess. Rumble followed soon after. “You okay?” “I just bumped it, that’s all,” Roseluck said. “Mistakes happen.” Rumble’s throat bobbed. “Good afternoon, Missus Roseluck.” “Good afternoon to you, too, Rumble!” Roseluck stood up and wiped sweat off her brow. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around. My, you’re tall!” Rumble chuckled as he focused on the pottery. “Yeah, kinda. I ate my wheat growing up.” Roseluck nodded, her best bright smile plastered to her face. “You two have any plans for today?” “Nope,” Scootaloo said. “We just ran into each other.” She punched Rumble’s shoulder. “Almost literally, in this guy’s case.” “Hay, I got distracted…” Rumble coughed as he caught a negative shift in Roseluck’s stance. “By her rainbow tornado. It was something else.” Scootaloo held her hooves up for Roseluck to see. “I can paint with magic, now.” Roseluck’s shallow smile tightened. “Rumble, would you like to come over for supper tonight?” Rumble shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but it’s my turn to cook over at Thunderlane’s. He and Cloudkicker are kinda expecting me.” He sucked his cheeks in before continuing. “I’d invite you guys over, but we’re kinda low on—” “Oh, that’s alright, I understand how things get.” Roseluck exhaled a deep, long breath. Pounds of tension left her shoulders. “It’ll have to be some other time, then.” “I’m looking forward to it.” He winked at Scootaloo. “See you around.” “Yeah.” Scootaloo stopped herself from acting on her first instinct; to hug him. Instead, she slapped his back with her wing. “Take care.” He flew off, leaving Scootaloo with her mother. “We do have to have him over sometime.” Roseluck carried a watering can towards a row of tulips. “He really is a nice young stallion. He really is.” She watered the flowers for a little longer than necessary. “Especially if you two grow more… serious.” Scootaloo opened her mouth to speak. Then she thought better of it. She mulled over her words for a few more seconds. “You’ll be cool about this, won’t you? I mean, it’ll get easier, won’t it?” “I suppose.” Roseluck put the can away and sniffed a yellow rose. “I’ll manage. I promise.” Scootaloo leaned back and forth. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, you know. I’m an adult, now. I can take care of myself.” Roseluck wilted. Her tail dragged along the ground as she walked up to her daughter. She wrapped her forelegs around Scootaloo’s neck and pulled her close. Scootaloo returned the hug. She felt damp tears on her shoulder. “I love you, Scootaloo,” Roseluck said. “I want to protect you forever. I’m sorry I keep… embarrassing you—” “You’re not embarrassing me, you’re just”—Scootaloo wrapped her wings around Roseluck—“you don’t have to worry.” Roseluck sniffed. “I can’t help it.” Scootaloo breathed deep. She held her mother and watched the sun go down. “You about ready to close up shop?” “Lily will do it today.” Roseluck stood up and brushed herself off. She picked up her saddlebags. “We can head home anytime.” Scootaloo climbed aboard her scooter and rolled slowly down the road beside Roseluck. “Seriously, though, I painted a barn with magic.” “How’d you manage that?” “Water in the paint, easy as pie.” “Did you dance while you painted?” “Of course I did! That’s half the fun!” “The Macadamia? A waltz? Maybe something from Sapphire Shores?” “A little something I made up that I like the call ‘the Roller.’” “Roller?” “Yeah, you sorta roll your whole body around, and the paint just floats around like bubbles.” “Like belly dancing?” “Um. Kinda. Except for the whole ‘belly’ part.” “Aw, you didn’t do the wave?” “My stomach is strong, but not that strong, Mom.” “When I was your age, I could make my stomach dance all by itself.” “That’s a little bit weird.” “I should teach you how when we get home.” “No offence, but that kinda dancing ain’t my—” “You just got to have good balance on your rear hooves—” “Mom.” “—and good abdominal muscles—” “Mom, please.” “—maybe a silky skirt and saddle combo—” “Mom!” The moon appeared in the sky as they arrived at Quills and Sofas. The hearth was already warm and waiting for them, as well as a tasty meal. It proved to be a relatively relaxing night, even with the new dance lessons. Davenport got a good laugh out of Scootaloo’s embarrassment. After a bit, she joined in with the laughter, too. Scootaloo was out like a light when she hit the mattress.