Epilogue
Two Years Later
“I think I see the train!” Sweetie Belle squeaked.
What she meant was that she saw steam. The train did not pull into Ponyville Station for another ten minutes.
Morning Rain was one of the first to get off, wearing a set of leather and canvas boots and a small saddlebag also made of leather. He had grown a lot in the past two years; now he was almost as tall as his sister.
“Hey Scootaloo,” he said with a smile, and nodded to the others. “You’ve been well?”
“As good as ever,” Scootaloo replied. “You got my letter, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Morning Rain said. “Let’s go. We can talk on the way.”
#
In Scootaloo’s living room they distributed the goods: a silk scarf for Sweetie Belle, a small parcel for Apple Bloom from one of her many relatives, and a stack of envelopes for Dust.
Scootaloo got a sizable bundle of letters, birthday cards and trinkets, some old things and some new. Pins and fancy coins she didn’t get to pack when she left the orphanage; photos she never knew existed; a faded picture book she never got the chance to finish. Most of it she would send back with Morning Rain, but it was nice to know that she still had friends in Canterlot.
Dust made lunch while the kids packed their bags. He had changed a lot since Scootaloo’s absence, and mostly for the better. He must have come into a fortune or else received a substantial raise, judging by all the new furniture in the house and the new roof. He also had a steady stream of letters and telegrams from all over Equestria, and often went away during the summer. He promised to take Scootaloo with him in a few years’ time, but for now he was tight-lipped about all his dealings.
Scootaloo and Morning Rain were not as ill-equipped as they had once been. They each had a set of griffin-made travel gear, and Scootaloo wore her tomahawk on a leather belt. With the increasing number of griffins in Canterlot even ponies were starting to experiment with leather. Apparently Scootaloo was an old-fashioned pony for being uncomfortable with the idea.
Dust accompanied the children through town, avoiding the busiest streets until they reached Sweet Apple Acres. They crossed the orchard and emerged at Fluttershy’s cottage from the side, spooking a big brown bear and several song birds.
“Fluttershy!” Dust called, sending up a big noisy flock of birds from a tiny bush.
“Hello Dust,” Fluttershy answered in her small but clear voice. “Everything is ready. Come now, sweetie.”
She appeared from the other side of the house, followed by two bearded grey goats. They had ropes around their necks, though nobody was holding them yet. They had that dumb, passive look in their eyes characteristic of animals bred and raised for food.
“There there, don’t be scared,” Fluttershy said, stroking each of the animals’ necks as Dust took the ropes. There were tears in her eyes, but all the arguing had been done long ago.
“Thank you,” Dust said, as awkwardly as he did last year.
“You two be safe now,” Fluttershy said, to Scootaloo and Morning Rain this time. “Ghastly Gorge is dangerous.”
“We’ll be fine, Fluttershy,” Rain said, putting one hoof on Scootaloo’s mechanical wings. “We can both fly, and the trail should be safe now. And we’re not going through the Everfree Forest.”
Dust hugged both of them before they set off. He never accompanied them past this point. Though he had become a much happier pony since Scootaloo’s adventure, he was always solemn for this journey.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom went with them to the end of the gorge where the narrow rocky path started. The rocks in the lower parts of the path were made for breaking ankles and splitting hooves; taking the entire journey on foot would take at least a week.
“Take care,” Apple Bloom said, giving Scootaloo a hug. “We’ll see you in three days.”
“Thanks,” Scootaloo said. “Oh, and if you see Grace and Gina in the next few days, don’t wait for me to introduce you. They shouldn’t get here for another week at least, but it’s hard to say with griffins.”
“I don’t haf’ta like ‘em,” Apple Bloom said, scrunching her nose in disapproval.
“Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said with a sigh. “They’re not that kind of griffin.”
But Apple Bloom was not swayed. Scootaloo could only hope that the inevitable meeting would change her mind.
Scootaloo and Morning Rain walked with the goats for the rest of the day. They were obedient, disinterested animals, bleating occasionally and stealing glances at the ponies as if to make sure that they had not been abandoned.
A lot had changed since Scootaloo returned from the Colony; for Gari and the Children of the Night, for the sylvanocians, for the griffins and for the Canterlot Orphanage. For the first time in more than a thousand years the Children of the Night were back in Equestria. Some stayed with Gari at the Canterlot Orphanage, which had annexed several streets around the old building and tripled in living space. Others were living in the palace with the Princesses, or in the Crystal Empire, or in other cities and towns. It was only a temporary move, a “vacation” after one thousand years of constant work, but the sudden influx of princes and princesses had raised many uncomfortable questions for Princess Celestia.
Likewise the return of hundreds of thousands of sylvanocians and the influx of griffins was causing alarm. For Ponyville it was not entirely a bad thing. At long last the Everfree Forest was under control. Fifty thousand new ponies in the Everfree Forest also meant more business for the Apples, but the griffins that followed them were almost certainly behind the increased number of missing chickens and snares in inconvenient places.
There was also another change, this one having nothing to do with the Colony as far as Scootaloo could tell. Diamond dogs were living in Canterlot. There were only a few hundred according to Morning Rain, and these ones were not inclined to abduct ponies. They were supposedly merchants, but why they suddenly appeared in the oldest and wealthiest neighborhoods in Canterlot was beyond Scootaloo’s guess.
In the late afternoon they reached a familiar flat site at the foot of a gigantic boulder and set up camp, pitching a leather tent in the griffin style. The goats they tied to rocks beside the icy creek.
“I was thinking,” Rain said as they ate potato soup around the lantern. “You know, kids at the Canterlot Orphanage can go to Officer School for free.”
“I know that,” Scootaloo said. She also knew where the conversation was going.
“Not just the Canterlot Military Academy,” Rain added quickly. “Since the Children of the Night came back, Equestria has been on better terms with the Colony. Kids at the Orphanage can go to the Officer School in Kelp Town now.”
“But you’re a candlemaker,” Scootaloo pointed out. “You’ve been doing it for years, and you’re really good at it. You can be a master if you stick with it.”
“Candles won’t be around for much longer,” Rain said, staring into the glowing white mantle of the gas lantern with his ears pressed against his head. “You see this? This doesn’t start fires. This doesn’t drip wax, it can’t break in half, and it doesn’t get blown out when you open a window. And every day there are more electric lights. By the time I become a master candlemaker nopony will need a master candlemaker.”
“You still have time to think,” Scootaloo said. “Two more years at least. But there are plenty of other things you’re good at, and frankly you’re pretty lousy at picking your fights.”
Rain chuckled, still staring thoughtfully into the light. He did not cry nearly as much as he used to.
“I almost wish I was a blank flank like you, Scootaloo,” he said. “You still got a choice. One thing works as well as another. Me, I know I’m a candlemaker, and that’s not so great as it used to be.”
“Don’t say that,” Scootaloo said, extending one of her mechanical wings. “You know, for all this fuss ponies make about cutie marks, at the end of the day it’s just a picture on your flank. I mean, Gari said she didn’t get hers until she was in her thirties. And you don’t see her baking cookies for a living. If you really want to be an officer I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you. But I’m also sure there’s something else you’d rather do.”
Rain was silent for a moment.
“What about you?” He asked, setting his bowl aside. “Are you weather team material?”
“Rainbow Dash thinks so,” Scootaloo said. “Ponyville doesn’t get any really crazy weather like they get near the coast or up in the mountains. It’s good for learning the basics. My dad doesn’t want me to go to the academy in Cloudsdale, but Rainbow Dash is really pushing for it. She says it’s the best school for weatherkeepers in Equestria.”
“Equestria isn’t everything,” Rain pointed out.
“No,” Scootaloo agreed. “No... but I think it’s enough for me.”
The goats were asleep before Morning Rain put out the lamp. Scootaloo tried hard not to look at them.
#
They flew against a stiff wind, making progress in inches. The goats dangled beneath the pegasi on long slings; it was the only safe way to carry them. Having wings did not make the height any less intimidating.
The nest had not changed much from previous years. Still there were logs and mud and feathers. But the chicks had grown considerably. Where ugly bald heads once squawked thoughtlessly there were handsome, stoic faces peering down the valley. The thunderbird’s surviving children were each as big as an adult pony, and not yet fully-fledged. Already they looked like miniature versions of their mothers, and their yellow beaks and metallic, calculating eyes reminded Scootaloo of griffins.
The ponies crept closer to the nest, until they rode the wind directly above it. Sensing danger, the goats bleated angrily and kicked against the air.
The thunderbird rose from her nest with a wingbeat that set off an avalanche. Scootaloo closed her eyes when she felt the quick downward tug. In the nest the chicks cheered and the goats screamed, and bones broke.
Scootaloo and Morning Rain landed outside the nest. Their slings were clean and undamaged, just like last year. The mother leveled a cool, suspicious gaze against them, but already her chicks had forgotten the ponies’ wrongdoings. To them ponies were rather nice creatures that ventured to their nest once a year to bring them an especially rich meal.
After the chicks had eaten their fill the thunderbird swallowed the remaining bones and meat and groomed her children. Then one of them clambered out of the nest. His feet were already big enough to wrap around the rim of the nest.
Scootaloo took half a step back, but a shriek from the mother bird stopped her. The chick approached hesitantly, pausing after every step. His siblings watched intently, their heads poking just above the rim of the nest.
When he was within a few feet of the ponies the chick stretched out his neck and looked Scootaloo straight in the eye. She hardly dared to breathe, though the bird seemed anything but hostile.
Suddenly he opened his mouth and let out a loud cry.
Scootaloo jumped.
The nest erupted with excited chirping. One of the chicks fell backwards; her mother caught her with the tip of her wing. Meanwhile the bird on the ground strutted about triumphantly with his face turned up and his mouth wide open.
Morning Rain laughed, and Scootaloo joined in. The solemn old bird shook her head, but she too was fighting back a smile.