//------------------------------//
// Part 2 Leaving the Ground 
// Story: We Will Fly 
// by Zephyr Spark 
//------------------------------//

	“I don’t get it,” Scootaloo finally said putting down the book. 
“What don’t you get?” Spike asked, glancing at her.
“All of it,” she groaned exasperated, “I don’t understand all this stuff about ‘lift’, ‘gliding’, or ‘drag force’. And what the hay is an ‘ulna’?!”
Spike patiently took out a piece of paper and grabbed a quill, ready to explain these concepts, as Twilight would do so when he couldn’t understand something. 
“Well, lift is an important part of bird flight, along with gliding, flapping, and drag,” he wrote out the names in a vertical row, putting space between each word.
“Do I look like a bird to you?” Scootaloo snorted.
Spike swallowed a sarcastic (and rather brilliant if he might add) retort. He recognized that she wasn’t trying to take out her frustrations on him; she just wanted results. After staring up at the sky for so long, Spike could definitely understand.
“The mechanics behind bird flight and pegasus flight are actually rather similar,” Spike continued, “’lift’ is basically a force that comes from air flowing on differently shaped wings.”
He drew a crude picture of wind blowing over a wing. Scootaloo nodded, still rather irritated.
“’Gliding’ is when you get both vertical and forward force on the wings. It specifically occurs because the force hits the wings at right angles to the air flow.”
Spike scribbled a picture of a bird and put arrows pointing upward and forward on the bird. He then drew a gust of wind and showed it touching the bird’s wing at a 90-degree angle. Scootaloo nodded again. Spike was making a bit more sense than that stuffy old book.
“’Drag force’ refers to things that can make flying harder like weight, friction between the air and the body, and stuff like that. We get around this by making sure our forms don’t provide too much resistance against the wind, allowing it to flow instead.”
Spike touched the quill to his chin in thought, and then he drew a bird trying to fly that was chained to the ground. Scootaloo had to admit she found that particular image slightly disturbing.
“But, it can also be helpful. If your wings has some resistance against the wind, I think it helps you to ride the winds.”
“How do you know all of this?” She asked.
“I read it,” Spike explained pointing to the book, “in this book, just now.”
“And you understood it?” Scootaloo questioned him with wide, incredulous eyes.
“When you hang out with Twilight for as long as I have, some of her traits, such as her intellect, start to rub off on you,” Spike smiled, “and sometimes her stress.”
Scootaloo chuckled and then returned to business, “So if you’ve been understanding all of this so far, do you think you see anything I might be doing wrong?”
Spike’s eyes narrowed in focus. He definitely remembered reading something that caught his attention. He flipped back several pages and pointed to a picture of a wing.
“The book says the wings are the key to flight, and there are three different types of feathers that play a role in flight, but most importantly, the primaries determine how the wind hits the feathers.”
Spike turned the page and grinned as he found a picture displaying different wingspans.
“There are different types of wings and each give a bird, or in this case a pegasus, different flight capabilities. These wing types include elliptical, high speed, high aspect ratio, and soaring with deep spots.”
Scootaloo didn’t follow, “what are you getting at?”
“You said you always asked Rainbow Dash to teach you how to fly?” Spike asked.
Scootaloo nodded.
“Well, no wonder she couldn’t teach you. Her wings and yours are different! They’re different lengths and different shapes. She was teaching you how to fly like her instead of teaching you how to fly like you.”
Scootaloo definitely understood him now, “so what do we do?”
Spike frowned, “um, I guess we could, try to find out your wing type and see what the book suggests.”
Scootaloo’s head plopped down to the table. They still didn’t know what to do, all this reading for nothing. She felt Spike’s hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, don’t sweat it” Spike smiled, “we’re going to figure this out and you’re going to fly.”
She gave a little smile back then remembered something, “hey, Spike, you never told me what an ‘ulna’ is.”
Spike returned her gaze and flatly responded, “That’s because I’m not sure.”
They sat in silence for a while and continued to read. Spike flipped through the pages, hoping for some solution. He opened the book to a chapter on pegasai, and finally managed to find something of interest. 
“Scootaloo,” he spoke slowly, “I think I found a way for you to take your first step to flying.”

***

“What’s this all about, Twilight?” Rainbow Dash grumbled angrily.
She was enjoying a nice nap when Twilight teleported up to her home, asking to speak to her. Honestly, she was minding her own business.
“It’s about Scootaloo,” Twilight explain irritated by her friend’s apparent disinterest.
“What about her?” Rainbow Dash sat up instantly alert, “did something happen to her? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight assured her, “at least she should be. Spike brought her to the castle and asked for a book about flying.”
“What?” Rainbow Dash shouted in confusion, “I’ve been teaching her! Why would she need some stinky old book?”
“That’s what I was wondering,” Twilight continued very seriously, “If you’ve been teaching her to fly, why does she suddenly ask for my help? Has she made any progress in your lessons?”
“Well, um, no,” the blue pegasus looked guilty and slightly ashamed. “But it’s not my fault, really,” she insisted, “I’ve tried everything I can think of.”
“I’m not blaming you, Dash,” Twilight explained, to her crestfallen friend, “I’m just a bit worried.”
“What do you mean?” she gave Twilight a quizzical expression.
“If she asked Spike to bring her a book on flying, she could be getting desperate for some sort of result.” Twilight explained, “I’m just worried that she might try something drastic and I was hoping you could just keep an eye out for her and Spike.”
“Why Spike?” Rainbow asked curiously, “he doesn’t have wings.”
“I’m worried he might do something reckless.”

***

“I don’t know about this, Spike,” Scootaloo nervously spoke as she looked down from the elevated diving board that delirious Applejack used to launch Rainbow Dash into Twilight’s house. She was amazed Spike could even find this thing on the outskirts of town in such good shape, but he explained that he always though it would make for an excellent diving board should his friends ever need one, seeing as it was a diving board. She was equally amazed that he could lug six, wide, white mattresses and place them underneath the board. When she asked why Spike even had six mattresses, he explained they weren’t technically all his and changed the subject.
“Don’t worry,” Spike reassured her, “I wouldn’t put you up there and ask you to jump off if I wasn’t sure the mattresses couldn’t protect you if you fell. I tested it and have the bruises to prove it.”
As he rubbed his sores, Scootaloo blinked, briefly reflecting on how odd that sentence might sound out of context. She felt the wind ruffle her wings. Maybe Spike was right. Maybe it could work. He had read it in that book.
The idea was simple. Jump off a high point a catch the wind just right to propel herself forward. It wouldn’t be flying, more like gliding. She would be subject to wind, forced to travel in its direction rather than fly freely. Eventually, she would descend slowly to the ground while moving horizontally. She just wouldn’t have control over the vertical. At least she thought so. She honestly wasn’t sure what gliding was anymore. Spike tried to explain a lot of it but she really didn’t understand. This was all beyond what her school was teaching.
Her school, that reminded her. She agreed to meet Applebloom and Sweetie Belle at school in an hour to work on a group project. Cheerilie would be supervising so she didn’t want to be late.
“Hey, Scootaloo,” Spike waved for her attention, wincing slightly at his bruises, “you ready to give it a try?”
Scootaloo stretched out her wings trying to feel the wind. Gritting her teeth, she raced off the board and leapt into the air. Only to plummet to the ground. Thankfully, the mattresses greatly weakened the impact, but she felt her pride wounded.
Spike raced over to her and helped her back up, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she quickly spoke to hide her frustration, “did I move at all?”
Spike sadly shook his head, “Maybe I picked a bad place? Maybe the wind isn’t strong enough?”
Or maybe I was never meant to fly Scootaloo glumly thought; maybe I’ll always be stuck to the ground.
“When you run out on the board,” Spike continued, “maybe you could try tucking in your legs, make yourself more aerodynamic.”
Scootaloo walked to the board, tried once again, and once again fell. It went on like this for ten minutes. Spike offered her advice he read in the book and advice based on his observations and encouraged her to try again. Scootaloo would try only to fail.
“Spike,” she threw off her helmet in frustration, “this isn’t getting us anywhere! I just look like an idiot!”
Spike picked up her helmet and rubbed it clean. He looked at her with complete sympathy, “You’re going to get this, I know you will.”
“No you don’t,” Scootaloo yelled, “you don’t know anything about flying! You don’t even have wings!”
Spike stopped completely. The helmet fell to the ground, and he just stared at her aghast. Then his eyes fell to the ground and he nervously clenched his fingers together. Scootaloo instantly regretted what she said, realizing how sensitive the little dragon was, particularly about his physical features, but Spike just nodded slowly, said, “okay,” and turned to walk away.
“Spike, wait,” she said running in front of him to stop his departure, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. It was mean and rude. You’re trying to help me and I shouldn’t take my anger out on you.”
“But you’re right,” Spike met her eyes despondently, “I don’t know anything about flying. I’ve just been reading dirty old books. And I certainly don’t have—,” he turned to glance at his back with a wistful look and didn’t bother to finish his sentence. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“No, you haven’t,” Scootaloo insisted, “I’ve learned more about flying in the past few hours than I have in years. I –,“ she glanced at the diving board with new resolve, “I’m going to try again.”
Pausing to scoop up her helmet, she climbed the ladder once more and mounted the board. She felt the wind blow against her shoulder and went over a mental checklist of Spike’s advice. She slowly inhaled and exhaled, focusing on her goal. She felt Spike gaze from below expectantly. This time, it wouldn’t be just for her, it would be for Spike; if she succeeded, it would prove he was being helpful. It would validate his efforts as well as hers. With this in mind, she ran to the edge of a board and leapt into the air once more.
She did not fall. She felt the wind push against her wings, slowing her descent. She had already moved past the mattresses and was feet above the field. Spike looked on in awe and wonder as the orange pegasus gracefully descended from above.
Scootaloo felt exhilaration, fear, freedom, pride, and excitement all at once. She saw the grass beneath her roll by. The clouds, which once seemed to taunt her high above, were all that much closer. She was doing it. Soon, her hooves gently touched the grass as she neared the ground. It was brief but they both had seen it. 
Spike ran to congratulate her but found his voice, choked with pride, would not obey him so he settled for a beaming smile and a cheerful embrace.
“Thank you, Spike,” Scootaloo smiled, “I finally did it.”
She broke away from the hug and raced up the board again to replicate her success. Now, the wind seemed to obey her as she gently descended for the second time. 
She climbed the board again and repeated her actions, finding if she angled her wings against the wind just right, she would be propelled forward even faster. All the while, Spike stared with prideful tears in his eyes. All of that work, all of that doubt, had finally amounted to something. Even when no pony else seemed to believe in her, she still managed to succeed with the right help. It gave Spike immense personal hope. She had taken the first steps toward the sky.
The wind blew through her purple mane and orange coat, whipped past her ears, and bathed her entire body. She reveled at adjusting her speed with ease, grinned as she commanded the wind to her liking. She could only imagine what greater sensations would come from descending from the sky, dancing through the clouds, and finally ascending to meet them. For now, she was perfectly content, more than content, in ecstasy. Scootaloo was engulfed by these new sensations that Spike’s warning came too late as she dangerously and rapidly approached a tree.