One Small Secret

by MyLittleChangeling

Chapter 2

Dear Princess Luna

I'm not sure who else I can talk to. My parents are, um, away at the moment and my friends would think I've gone crazy. So I'm writing to you.
Last night I had a dream where I became something else. At least, I think it was a dream. I'm not sure. It felt real ... Anyway, I don't know anything about dreams, but I was pretty sure this wasn't one - except I was a wolf, not a pony.
Normally I wouldn't bother you or anything with something as small as this but there's really no one else I could think of that could help. Not that you have to. Could you Please reply to my letter Don't send me to the crazy house If you could spare any time, please write back.

Your loyal subject

Scootaloo
Scootaloo sighed. It was the best idea she'd thought of so far, and last night had scared her more than she was willing to admit. She wanted someone to sweep her under their wing and hold her tight to make it all okay. Obviously that was never going to happen, so she composed a short letter to the next best thing: a Princess who, with a little luck, wouldn't think she'd lost it.

***

Since Twilight's coronation, Spike had taken over the library, but it usually didn't take him much to keep it in good shape. Today was not one of those days. He'd recently started his own Dragon Mail business, and the orders flowed through like a particularly strong current. He sighed and resigned himself to an afternoon of utter boredom.
"Okay," he mused "Next on the list ... Scootaloo to Princess Luna?" Spike shook his scaled head with amazement. "This place gets stranger everyday."

***

Scootaloo was known for her dramatically low tolerance for sitting still, but this was ridiculous. Applebloom glanced up at Miss Cheerilee, surprised her teacher hadn't picked up on it. Then again, the orange filly was never really still for more than two milliseconds - her hooves were forever fiddling with the randomest of objects, her feathered wings seemed permanently buzzing, and her head twitched in all directions at any given time. Applebloom doubted she stopped even while she slept.
This was a different kind of hyper, though. Scootaloo shook like a fountain of pure energy, except this one had a blocked pipe: school. Sure, Applebloom had heard of beauty sleep, but whatever kind of slumbering the convulsing filly had been doing last night, Applebloom could use it.

***

School wasn't over soon enough for Scootaloo. She'd never had this much energy. She felt like she could gallop through the forest out back, leaping over tree roots and ducking beneath branches, her wings buzzing madly until she lifted clean into the air and flew to Canterlot and back. And have energy left over.
Barely containing her excitement, the filly trotted the empty dirt trails leading to her cottage nestled deep beneath the trees. Unbeknownst to her, a shadowy figure followed her carefully until they reached the tiny house. A neatly tied scroll was pinned hastily to the wooden door, as if the mail pony was spooked by the forest and got out of there as quickly as their hooves could carry them. Scootaloo's follower silently agreed with them. She watched as Scootaloo unfurled the note and scanned it quickly. It was discarded almost immediately when the young pegasus raced through the door and out of sight.
Applebloom breathed out slowly, letting out the pent-up breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. She scurried over and picked up the scroll.

***

Dear Scootaloo

I was surprised and intrigued to receive your letter, although I am not able to be of much help here in Canterlot. Perhaps you would like to meet in the near future?
Anyhow, there are some things you mentioned that I can help with. Firstly, as luck might have it, the night you referred to was my trial night for note taking. As Princess of the Night, I like to keep an eye on my subjects' dreams (I would rather not let my little ponies suffer from nightmares) and I have often pondered keeping records of these dreams. The evening in question was my trial run of this, but I'm afraid I have no entries under your name. Whatever you remember was not a dream, although it is quite possible you were hallucinating.
Secondly, there are - decidedly few - entries in a certain restricted section of the Royal Canterlot Library that describe similar experiences to yours, yet I cannot be sure without talking to you directly, of course.
I have my own suspicions as to what is happening, but this all relies on a meeting with you. If you wish to receive what help I can offer, the Royal Court is always open to anypony.

Her Royal Highness

Princess Luna of the Moon

P.S. Transport can be arranged.