Not All Who Wander Are Lost

by RazedRainbow

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Should I?

Should I?

... Yeah, I should.

With a powerful flap, Scootaloo shot towards a low-lying tree branch, wings burning as they beat against her sides. Three... two... She crouched, bit her lip, and stared down the limb. For five years, she had never been the first to blink, but the game of chicken still caused sweat to form on her brow. She held her breath.

One!

Scootaloo kicked off her scooter and flapped her wings with all her might. She soared over the branch, pushing the earth farther away with each flap. She kicked off of the limb. The air currents picked up. A grin stretched across her face. This is it! I’m gonna do it! Blood tricked down her lower lip as she pushed her her wings even harder. Ligaments stiffened, muscle burned, but she flapped on. Come on. You got this. Just keep going. This is it! Goodbye gravity! Hello sky!

Her wings had other plans. Her joints stiffened, making each flap smaller than the last. Her scooter bowed and creaked beneath her hooves as she landed. It swerved toward a thick trunk. She yanked back on the handlebars and skidded to a stop, kicking up a large cloud of dust. When she opened her eyes, she found a foreleg resting against the tree. Too close for comfort, but still kind of awesome.

Sweetie Belle coughed, fighting her way through the cloud with a flailing foreleg. Scootaloo giggled at her, but was seized by a coughing fit as well. Tears stung her eyes as she rasped out, “So, how was my airtime?”

“Perfect,” Sweetie wheezed. Scootaloo frowned at her. Sweetie Belle sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine, it was five seconds.”

Scootlaoo’s heart sank. “Altitude?”

Sweetie kicked the ground. “Um… you reached, maybe, the next set of branches?” Her voice squeaked as she closed her eyes.

Scootaloo slammed her hooves against the handlebars. “Son of a... that’s the same as last time!”

Sweetie Belle gave a shaky smile. “No, last time you got four seconds.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Yeah. One milisecond is such an improvement...” She sighed and looked at the sky. That was all she could do—all she would ever do. Look. Not experience. She spit on the grass beside her and took off her helmet. Her bangs stayed matted to her eyebrows. Shaking them free seemed pointless. “Look, let’s just get to the clubhouse.”

They silently continued down the path, Scootaloo occasionally glaring at her wings. Am I cursed? She shook the thought away. No, you’re just sounding like a quitter. Quitters never win. Winners never give in. Win—

“Scootaloo!”

She turned around. Sweetie Belle had stopped and motioned for her to return. With a groan, she doubled back. “What is it this time?” Scootaloo muttered as she rolled up beside her.

Sweetie Belle kept her eyes on the treehouse, shaking her head. “I don’t know, it’s just... odd.”

Scootaloo studied the clubhouse. Everything seemed to be intact: no loose boards, missing shingles, or smoke to be found. Not even a splinter out of place. She tilted her head, stuck out her tongue, then shook her head, turning to Sweetie Belle. “Looks like the clubhouse to me.”

Sweetie frowned. “The door’s closed. The door’s never closed.”

Scootaloo looked up. Yeah, Sweetie Belle was right; the door was settled snugly in its frame. She placed a hoof under her chin and glanced upwards. Skies are clear. Wind isn’t bad. She sighed. “Nothing wrong with the weather. Think something’s up?”

“Maybe. But what?” Sweetie’s voice sounded almost desperate.

“No idea.” Scootaloo parked her scooter against the base of the tree and quietly followed Sweetie Belle up the ramp. A board squeaked, and a shadow moved in the window. Scootaloo raised a hoof. Were they here? She ground her teeth and braced for chaos. Only birdsongs filled the air. She groaned and broke into a trot. “Sweetie, wait up,” she hissed.

“What?” Sweetie Belle asked, voice quavering.

“I just saw something move in the window.”

Sweetie Belle tilted her head, seeming almost relieved. “Uh, yeah. Applejack told us Apple Bloom was in there, remember?”

“Oh, sure, but... it was weird. I don’t know. The door’s closed and, like you said, it’s never closed. Now I’m seeing things in the window, and I can tell you it looked bigger than Apple Bloom.”

Sweetie Belle stiffened, glancing over her withers. A breeze blew their manes. Had it gotten darker? Sweetie Belle’s breaths grew shaky. “How much bigger?”

“Like, Head-over-the-windowsill-standing-on-four-legs bigger.”

“Tha-that’s pretty big.”

“You don’t say," Scootaloo muttered.

“Did it look like… well, you know.”

Visions flickered through Scootaloo’s mind. Had she seen pointed ears? A fangy snout. She almost fell back on her haunches but pushed forward. “No, I don’t ‘know.’ Now, come on. Something’s going on here, and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

Sweetie Belle nodded and tiphoofed up the ramp. Her head darted around as she scanned the area for trouble. After a moment, she straightened herself up and knocked on the door. Scootaloo waited for a response. Movement within the treehouse, but the door remained shut. Scootaloo bent down. All it would take was a moment of distraction, and it would be game over. Teeth grinding, she nodded to Sweetie Belle, who knocked again, quieter.

Nothing.

Scootaloo huffed. So much for a defensive position. She marched forward, pushing Sweetie Belle aside and ramming her shoulder against the door. It wouldn’t budge. She grunted and rapped on the door. “Apple Bloom? You in there?" she said. "It’s me! Scootaloo! Sweetie Belle’s here too.”

No response.

She knocked again. “Come on, Apple Bloom. I can hear you in there!”

Still nothing.

“Open the door!” she yelled as she gave the door a single crushing blow.

Something fumbled around inside, but Scootaloo received no response.

She groaned. “That’s it, I’m coming in!” She looked up at Sweetie Belle. “Be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

There was no time for a response. Taking a deep breath, Scootaloo reared her hind legs back and bucked the door with all her might. Her legs rattled, electric bolts streaking up her spine, but the lock broke. Apple Bloom shot into the air, knocking over a set of wrenches. She pressed her back against a shadowed object, panting heavily. “H-heya, Scoots,” she managed to stammer, “I—”

“We just knocked on the door a trillion times!”

“Oh, y’all did?" She shrugged. "I didn’t hear nothin’.”

Sweetie Belle peeked around the doorframe. “Is it clear?” she whispered. Scootaloo nodded, sighing loudly. Sweetie Belle smiled and skipped into the clubhouse, carefully hopping around the splinters of the door. “Hi, Apple Bloom!”

Apple Bloom grinned nervously. “Hey, Sw—”

“What do you mean you didn’t hear us?” Scootaloo pressed her hoof against Apple Bloom’s chest. “I knock pretty loud.”

“Scoots, calm down!" Sweetie Belle cried. "Jeez."

“She’s hiding something!” Scootaloo yelled. “And I’m gonna find out what it is.”

Apple Bloom stared at her with wide, darting eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout, Scootaloo? I ain’t hidin’ nothin’!”

“Yeah, right. Why was the door locked?”

“The door was locked?” Apple Bloom glanced at the entrance, then back at Scootaloo. “Thought I, uh, kept it unlocked. Sorry.”

“Uh-huh, sure. And I’m a griffon princess.” Scootaloo pressed her hoof harder into Apple Bloom’s chest. “You better start explaining or else!”

Apple Bloom snorted. “Or else what?”

Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom against the wagon. The mare winced in pain as her back smacked the wood. Whimpering, she slid down on her haunches. A twinge of guilt twisted Scootaloo’s heart, but apologies could come later. She thrust a hoof at the cringing filly. “You gonna tell me the truth now, or do you want more of that?!”

“Stop it, Scoots!” Sweetie Belle shouted, walking glared daggers. “She just forgot that she locked the door, Scoots. Calm down.”

Scootaloo drew heavy breaths, her pursed lips growing slack. Her glare softened as she glanced down at Apple Bloom. The filly sat on her haunches, reaching for her back and hissing. “I’m sorry, but—"

“Calm down, Scoots!” Sweetie Belle seethed.

Sighing, Scootaloo backed away, glaring. Arguing was pointless. Sweetie walked over to Apple Bloom and offered a hoof. “Are you okay?”

With a slap and a shake of a hind leg, Apple Bloom let out a lengthy exhale. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” She stood on quaking hooves, only sparing Scootaloo momentary glances. “Look, I’m mighty sorry I didn’t hear y’all come up. I was workin’, ya see, and—”

“Working on what?” Scootaloo asked. She saw no grease, no screws or nails. Maybe she was telling the truth, but there was something in the air. She could smell it, taste it..

“Scootaloo, knock it off!" Sweetie Belle groaned. "Would it kill you to be nice for two seconds?”

Maybe. Would it kill Apple Bloom to spill her guts? Scootaloo looked at the floor and managed to keep any nasty language trapped behind her teeth.

“So, uh...” Apple Bloom rubbed the back of her neck. “Did I miss anything after I left?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Nothing much. Scootaloo and I almost got detention for talking in class, but besides that, nah, you didn’t miss anything.”

“Where the hay’d you go anyway?” Scootaloo piped up.

Apple Bloom glared. “I ain’t gonna tell ya that, Scoots. It’s private, and I’m fine, so let’s just drop this crap before you wind up actually crippling me.” Scootaloo took a step back, foreleg raised. She hadn’t pushed Apple Bloom that hard. It was a small bump. No big deal, right? Apple Bloom snorted and turned back to Sweete Belle. “Sorry. Lost it there.” She ran a hoof through her mane. “So, what are y’all doin’ here?”

“Well, we didn’t have anything else to do, so we stopped by Sugarcube Corner and...” Her eyes brightened. “Wait! I just remembered...” Sweetie Belle beamed and bounced over to Apple Bloom. She threw her saddlebags off and rummaged through them. After a few seconds, she pulled out a soggy cup and gave it to Apple Bloom. “You owe me a bit, by the way.” She giggled.

Apple Bloom giggled back and held the cup in a hoof. “Wow. Spoiled milk. Why, I’d pay two bits for this!” She sniffed the air and gagged, spilling the milkshake. Tthe treehouse shook as Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle burst into raucous laughter. Sweetie rolled onto her back while Apple Bloom swayed where she stood. Wiping tears from her eyes, she managed to choke out, “Sorry ‘bout that, Sweetie, but—“ She gagged again, throwing a hoof over her mouth. “Jeez, it smells like one of the pigs got sick.”

Scootaloo snorted and rolled her eyes. Why exactly was a waste of bits funny again? The ceiling creaked overhead. She leaned forward. “So, Apple Bloom. What’re you doing in here anyway?”

Apple Bloom frowned. “You ain’t gonna push me again, are ya?” Scootaloo growled, tapping a hoof against the floorboards, but nodded. Apple Bloom took a bite of a cupcake. Where had that come from? Sweetie must have given hers away. That girl was too good for her own good sometimes. “Well, ya see,” Apple Bloom finally said between bites, “I’ve been workin’ on fixin’ up the ol’ wagon for a while now.” Bits of pastry flew from her mouth with every syllable.

“Why?” Scootaloo asked, inching away from a bit of chewed icing that landed near her. “It’s not like we’d be able to use it. I don’t think you two’d fit in there anymore.”

“Just practicin’. Workin’. I’ll be needin’ to help out ‘round the farm soon. Big Mac and Applejack can only do so much, y’know?” Her ears flicked against her head, gaze darting to the floor. She rubbed a hind leg with the other. “Besides, it… gets my mind off things, y’know? Gives me something else to think about.”

Sweetie Belle cantered over and put a hoof on Apple Bloom’s foreleg. “We understand.”

“Yeah, totally,” Scootaloo mumbled, her mind still burning with questions. If this was it, why was she hiding it from us? Hay, why was she hiding from us? Scootaloo made a note to ask more through questions later. “So, what kind of fixing are you doing anyway?”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “Just the basics. Patched a hole in the bottom yesterday and was replacin’ the wheels when y’all showed up.”

“Neat! How do you do that?” Sweetie Belle piped, bouncing in place. Uncool as it may be, Scootaloo had to admit that Sweetie could be quite adorable when she got excited. She welcomed it, really. Like a warm ray of sunshine on a rainy day.

Apple Bloom cleared her throat and tossed the now-empty cupcake wrapper aside. “Well, all ya have to do is…”

Scootaloo rubbed her forehead and groaned. So bored. She glanced around the room, taking in the large collection of junk that had accumulated over the years: a totaled hang glider, a few half-painted canvases, and countless boxes filled with the remnants of misadventures. How many failures did a pony have to go through before she received a cutie mark in just that? Scootaloo bet they were one wagon crash away.

A series of giggles brought her back to reality. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle sat on the floor, locked in an upbeat conversation. Hopefully something cool. Scootaloo leaned forward.

“... so Pip walks over to her an—”

Ugh! Scootaloo retched. Gossip. All the fillies loved that mush, couldn’t get enough of it. The very idea of it upset Scootaloo’s stomach. Groaning, she looked back at the boxes to try and avoid the mushiness. Instead, she found only uneasy memories. A roar echoed through the back of her head. She shook it away. It’d come back. It always came back. Maybe a little bit of reading could push it away.

If Rainbow could see me now. The thought brought a smile to her lips but, once again, she found her legs shaking and eyes burning. With a sigh, she reached into her saddlebags and pulled out the book. The voices stopped. In her periphrial vision, Apple Bloom had straightened up, probably staring right her. Scootaloo brushed it aside. Sweetie Belle would be able to explain it quicker and with less arguing than she would.

Chewing on a unruly strand of mane, Scootaloo opened the book, moved her Wonderbolts bookmark out of the way, and began to read.

– – –

Daring Do could not tell how long she had been staring at the waves. A minute? An hour? Did it even matter? Regardless, time had lost its effect on her many moons before. To her, it was just a series of numbers, produced so a businesspony would know when to take his smoke break. The only time Daring concentrated on—the only time she cared about—was time long gone.

The waves crashed along the coast, adding another layer of salt to her already salt-lined face. She had managed to calm her emotions, but the carnage left in their wake was unpresentable. Even if she wanted to return to the party, she couldn't; one strand of mane out of place and she'd be found out. She was more comfortable out here anyway. She twisted her pith helmet in her hooves. They expected her back at the party, but what if she simply failed to return? Ripped off her dress, threw on her helmet and swung away from it all for good? It was tempting.

A limb snapped behind her, and she jumped, wiping away any remaining tears. She turned and stared into the jungle, expecting a journalist or stray partygoer to shuffle out from the brush. The snapping continued, growing closer by the second. She backed herself against a nearby boulder and got into a fighting position—a difficult action in heels. The snaps sounded mere inches away. A chill ran up her spine, and she gulped.

The moonlight illuminated a pair of eyes. As they drew closer, patches of orange and white fur appeared. These tufts stretched out, connecting to two large ears and a pointed snout. It wasn’t a creature from another world, but a simple—and adorable—fox. She sighed and slid down the boulder, onto the sand.

“Don’t scare me like that, little guy,” she chuckled. Her laughter died out as the fox continued towards her, stopping mere inches from her. Its eyes blank, as fox eyes often were, yet when the moon hit them just right, they gleamed with... something. She couldn’t put a hoof on it, but it seemed familiar. Her mouth dried, her heart beat a little harder on her ribs.

The fox craned its neck, gazing down a jungle path. “The hay?” she muttered, squinting to see if there was anything unusual, finding only dark trees and twisting shadows. She looked back at the fox, who still stared down the path. It turned back to her and cocked its head.

She threw her forelegs in the air. “What?” she whispered harshly. The fox continued to stare, unmoving, and from what she could tell, unbreathing. Daring shivered. “What? What do you want?”

It stared.

“I don’t have any food, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

It stared.

Daring shook her head and stood, but as she rose, the fox snatched her pith helmet and sprinted down the path. By the time she was able to process what had happened, the fox had vanished.

“Come back here, you!” With a powerful flap of her wings, she gave chase.

– – –

Branches scraped against her face, but she focused on the path, hoping to catch sight of the fox through the sea of leaves.

As she progressed further into the brush, she began to hear a sound. It was faint at first—barely audible over her shaky breathing—but it quickly grew into a thunderous crashing. By the time she came to a clearing, she couldn’t hear herself think.

Not that she had much to think about; the sight left her breathless.

A dazzling waterfall towered above. Roaring streams of greenish-blue water crashed upon mile high rocks. She craned her neck, trying to guess its height, but a thick mist concealed the top. She whistled as she watched the water trace cracks in the mossy stones. Had this been on the maps? Had Father mentioned it before? No, she had spent many of her fillyhood years on these old trails; she would have heard it. Chills fired off down her spine, one after the other. She swayed on buckling hooves.

Through the cascading water she saw an orange and black tail disappear into an opening. She growled and gave chase, sprinting up a path that ran behind the waterfall. “Come back here, you! My father gave me that!” she yelled, thinking that that would somehow make the fox stop. It worked as well as she had expected; the fox’s tail flicked in and out of sight

She took a deep breath and unfurled her wings, flapping them to gain speed. Water splashed against her face, soaked her dress, as she rocketed towards the cave. Slabs of rock jutted out of the wall, giving her mere inches to squeeze through. A flash of orange briefly appeared in the cave’s mouth. “I see you!” Daring roared. Her wings burned, but the pain was outweighed by her searing rage. She shot through a tiny opening between boulder and wall, scraping the side of her face on the rock; cold air suddenly met her hind legs as her skirt of her was ripped clean off. Daring winced, muttering curses as she felt blood trickle down her face.

Daring shot around another rock and saw the fox staring back at her, helmet in mouth, tail swishing from side to side.. Daring grinned. “You’re mine now.”

"Daring..."

Her wings tensed. Her legs went numb. “What the—” A slab of rock cut her off.

– – –

Daring felt like she’d taken a mountain to the skull.

Groaning, she sat up, rubbing her head with her hoof. Pain was something she dealt with on a regular basis, and “flying into rock headfirst” fell into the top tier. She lightly touched her nose, and yelped. Blood soaked her hoof and the smell of copper filled the air. “Great,” she muttered. “Gashes AND a broken nose. Just perfect. At this rate I’ll be brain dead by sunrise.”

Somewhere in the cave, a rock fell.

“I hear you!” Daring yelled, stumbling about the cave with a foreleg raised. It scraped against rock, as did her wings. She spun in a circle. Nothing but rock.“Give me back my helmet,” she said through chittering teeth, “or I swear to Celestia, I will make you wish you were never born."

The only response was the echos of her ragged breathing.“Fine. You want to do this the hard way?! We’ll do this hard way!”

She ran forward but collided with solid rock. Her foreleg burned, but at least her nose had been spared. “Ugh, come on!” Shaking her head, she stuck out her forehoof again and pushed, but the result was the same. She reached behind and felt more rock. She gulped and thrust her hooves out to her side. A dull thud echoed through the cave. Her legs shook; she was trapped. Celestia, she really was trapped. “Not good,” she mumbled.

A pebble fell behind her and bumped against her leg. She screamed and flailed her forelegs like a madmare. She made contact with something soft. She pushed against it, but it didn’t budge. Then she punched it with all her might and felt it compress.

The thing grunted. “Ow! Ugh, strong as I remember.”

She gasped and fell to the floor. That voice. She was suddenly a filly again, listening eagerly to a bedtime story about daring adventurers. Tears stung her eyes. Between ragged breaths she was able to stutter out a single word: “D-dad?”

“Yes, honey, it’s me.” His voice was as gentle as she remembered.

“B-but... how?”

“That’s not important. Not now, at least.”

“Yes it is!" Daring shouted, clasping her hooves against her temples. "You’re... you’re dead. I shouldn’t be... this doesn’t make any sense!”

“Not much does.”

“I’m going mad,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “I’ve gone off the deep end.”

“I assure you," he said gently, "you are not mad.”

She snorted. “How can I take assurance from a figment?”

“Lift your hoof,” he whispered, his Caneighdian accent slipping through.

“What?” She felt like running. If only there was someplace to run to.

“Just lift it.”

Wincing, Daring did as she was told. She was greeted with the familiar feeling of emptiness: hot air, heavy emotions and the coarse strands of a—"

“Gah!” She retracted her hoof as if it were on fire. “No! This can’t... No!” She lifted her hoof, hoping that her mind was simply playing tricks. Once more she touched wispy hairs. A beard. His beard. A cannonball dropped in her chest.

“Told you.” Her father chuckled. A weight pressed against her shoulder, and she could barely suppress the urge to scream.

“O-o-okay, so I’m not crazy," she said. "That or a whole new form of crazy. But that still doesn’t explain anything.”

“Oh, but it does.”

“How?”

“Why do you think I’m able to talk to you? Why am I here and not sitting on a cloud, strumming a harp right now?”

“Because you’d be swimming in a lake of fire.” Daring chuckled, and her father echoed. The sound of his laugh still sent chills down her spine. “No, but really, I have no idea why. I have no idea about any of this crap.”

“Because there’s a back door, honey. It’s not as final as you think.”

“What’s not final?”

“Death, silly! What else?” Her father’s voice was halfway between a laugh and grunting frustration. “All these years and I still have to spoon feed you everything?”

“No, you don’t! I knew that, you… you just caught me off guard is all.” She exhaled and rubbed the back of her neck. I’m talking to a ghost, she thought to herself, I’m talking to a damn ghost and acting like it’s normal. She cleared her throat. “I get what you’re saying, Dad, but... I still don’t really understand.”

“Well, you remember that time that you sat in on one of my physics lectures?”

“Yeah,” she said

“Remember how long and boring that was?” he said.

She laughed. The taste of drool and ink drifted her mouth. She spit on the floor, coughed. It remained. “I fell asleep after five minutes.” Her smile faltered.

“Yeah, explaining all this would take way more time than we have. I’ll just give you the quick version, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Well, you see... Hmm, how do I explain this?" He sighed, and Daring could have sworn the distinctive sound of his hoof thumping against his skull—brainstorming in the manner he always had. "There are two ‘worlds,’ right? The world of the living and the world of the dead.”

“You’re already starting to lose me. That’s not physics, that’s mythology.”

“It is what it is. Deal with it as you must.” A hum filled the cave. Flashes of light flickered across the ceiling. Unfortunately, it was not enough to illuminate her father. If he were even there. Which was impossible. Yet the cough fired off and echoes as real as her own. “Yes, that’s the simplest way that I can explain it. There’s two worlds, and between them is a border. A barrier, if you will, keeping them separate. Well, as you know, even the most well-made walls have the occasional crack, and this one is no exception. There are holes. Holes the living and dead can enter each world through.”

Daring’s breath came as gasp. Cripes, she wasn’t just insane, she was in Tartarus. Of course. her father was here. She was dead too. That was the only way this could make sense.

"It’s not unguarded,” he continued. “There are hunters, ever vigilant, and nopony lasts too long on the wrong side of the veil. Too many minutes and the spirit can collapse, bereft of life or death. The body remains a hollow shell, and—"

The world suddenly shook, and a loud, animal-like roar echoed through the cave. Daring heard her father sigh. “Oh dear. I’m sorry, honey. I’m out of time,” he said. For the first time their entire conversation, his voice carried an emotion: pure terror.

Daring tried to balance herself. Hot air began to shoot up around her legs. “Out of time? What?”

“I’m sorry. Not enough time. Library, second floor, back corner, top shelf, red cover, page one sixty-four. It’ll tell you what you need to know.”

“What?” she screamed, barely able to hear herself over the roaring. Fire shot illuminated the roof of the cavern, thousands of feet overhead. She looked down. A shadow flickered in and out of existence. Her heart threatened to shatter her ribs.

“Sorry. I love you.”

“Wai—”

The roar escalated, the vibrations knocking Daring flat on her back. She covered her ears with her hooves, but the sound still pierced her eardrums. It seemed to drone on for minutes, for hours, for eternity.

And then it ceased.

The ringing in Daring’s ears was deafening. Her thoughts, her words, her breaths—all were muted. Slowly, she lifted herself to her hooves and stumbled around, bumping into unseen walls. Her senses filed back in, carrying her memories with it. She gasped and looked around.“D-dad?” she stuttered out, expecting a hearty chuckle and some good-natured ribbing in return. Only an echo responded. “Dad!” she cried out again, shaking from head to hoof. She clutched her head. “No... no...” she muttered.

The silence, the ringing, it all strangled her. “Daddy!” she shrieked with what little energy she had left. The ground trembled, and the roar came back, as piercing and venomous as before. Her legs fell out from under her as slabs of rock rained down on her back, snapping her spine, taking balance and feeling with them. She should’ve run—she could’ve run—but she didn’t, and now it was too late.

The earth gave one last heave, and the roof collapsed.

– – –

“Miss Doo? Miss Doo? Are you alright?”

A stick prodded her side, and she swatted it away with a foreleg. Groggily, she opened her eyes, but immediately regretted it. Another tropical day greeted her: the warmth of the sun , the scent of salt and the sound of water. “Perfect hangover weather,” she mumbled, leaning her head back against a boulder. Once her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she opened them and glared at her alarm clock—a teenage colt dressed in a white shirt and bowtie. He recoiled, sweat obvious on his trembling, acne covered face.

“Let me guess: they sent you to—" She hiccuped. "To find... me.” She felt the desire to collapse back into the sand right then and there.

He nodded. She could hear his teeth chattering.

“Fine... you found me. Go.” She shooed him away with a hoof, and he complied. Once he was out of sight, she stretched herself out and groaned, rubbing her throbbing head. Her skirt was nowhere to be seen, leaving her back legs exposed to the chilly mist. She frowned and curled them inward. Walking back to the house would be fun. At least she could. Memories of the cave—no the dream—with the rocks raining down on her flashed through her mind.

It had been nothing. Just a dream. That didn’t explain her missing skirt, but well, she had drunk enough. It was probably resting atop a pillar somewhere in Father’s mansion.

She turned her head and wretched, emptying the previous night’s poison on the unsuspecting seashells. Once the heaves subsided, she opened her watering eyes. Moaning, she stumbled to her hooves and shuffled to a nearby tide pool. She wet her hooves and rubbed them against her burning head. As she lowered her hooves, her reflection caught her eye.

She was a mess. Her bloodshot eyes were puffy and surrounded by thick black rims. Sand, vomit, and night-old drool caked her mouth and chin. Her mane jutted out at acute angles. She cocked her head. The hay? I coulda sworn I had my helmet last night.

Lazily, she glanced around for her helmet. Finding no trace of it nearby, she groaned. Movement was unavoidable. Muttering the curses of ancient tribes, she wandered around the beach, eyes fixed on the sand. She walked until she felt wakes sliding over her hooves then turned around. As she did, an opening in the jungle caught her eye. Daring shrugged and trotted towards it. I’ve found it in stranger places, she thought. She peeked around the boulder, down the path. There was nothing of note, save for a few interesting plant specimens and… were those paw prints?

Something heavy fell on her head, and she fell to her knees. Rubbing her sore skull, she caught sight of an object lying at her hooves. She blinked her vision into focus and gave the object a once-over. It was her helmet. “The hay?” She leaned down, picked it up, glancing at the rock. “How much did I drink last night?” She chuckled to nopony in particular. She flipped her helmet around in her hooves and noticed an object inside the crown. She pulled it out and smiled.

It was a single picture, a snapshot of her and her father outside of an old temple. She giggled at the sight of his bushy beard—so many times she had begged him to shave it, and each time he refused.

The sound of rustling leaves brought her out of her reverie. She scanned the treeline. For a moment, she thought she saw an orange flash disappear into a group of bushes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, but she shook off the chills. “It was just a dream,” she whispered to herself. “That’s all it was.” Still, no amount of reassurances could stop the nagging feeling.

“Red cover. Page one sixty-four.”

Sighing, she donned her helmet. It clashed with her dress, but the waterfall--or rain, whatever it was--and missing skirt had ruined it enough already. She marched down the beach towards her father’s house, grogginess drifting off in the salty wind. The guests had probably departed during the night. That was good. No point in formality. She pulled off her dress and tossed it over a banister as she marched up to the house.

One of her father’s maids approached her, asking where she had been. She brushed her aside. Red cover, page one-sixty-four. As she approached Father’s study, she found herself chucking as she twirled the key in her pinions. All her life she had been forbidden to ever enter the room, and yet, even now, the door into the library just screamed… blandness. A basic cedar painted a basic white in the most basic wing of the manor. Her snark was swept away by the opening door.

Jaw swinging agape, she nearly fell back on her rump once again. If she had paid attention in her youth—if she had not bought the first train ticket to a foreign land the moment she got the bits together—she would have realized that a good fourth of the manor had been taken up by her father’s study. She took to the air, floating toward the back shelf, glancing at the spines. Books on griffon cultural practices, on the Wild Cats of South Amareica (conveniently next to book on the famous treasures supposedly buried within), books on pegasi burial practices. Her wings faltered. If only she had known, if only she had come back by every once in a while. Maybe her quests could have been cut in half, maybe he’d still be here.

She shook her head. No, focus, Daring. The book she was looking for stood out like a sore feather amidst the shadows. Many of the spines lined upon the back shelf lacked spine, covers peeling and gathering dust. There was but one red one. Thinking better of a mouth hold, she sprinted over to a nearby stepladder and brought it over. The book was jammed tight between two ancient tomes. Dust clouds shot out with the book, yet as she stared down at the cover, she could not help but notice a lack of dust, not a scratch or peeling to its body.

Sitting down would have been a smarter option, but she had to know. If she fell, she fell. That’s what wings were for. She flipped through the pages. Four, eight, sixteen, forty-two, one-twenty-nine. The flipping pages came to a sudden stop at the start of a new chapter. Somepony had dog-eared the top corner. She knew what page it was before she even looked down. One-sixty-four. Her hooves tapped against the floor as she hovered back down, lungs burning. The picture upon the page blurred, the words formed a jumbled mess of letters she didn’t recognize, but the title hung in her eyes even as she clenched them shut, scrawled upon a note atop the strange symbols.

‘The Bridge Between Life and Death: Observations and Accounts on the Phoenix Pool.”

Scootaloo stood without a word, stepping on the pages of her book as she walked to the back of the room, body numb and mind racing. The box sat where it always had, its dust-layered pulling her forward like a beacon.

“Uh, Scootaloo? What are you doing?” Sweetie Belle asked from behind, voice shaking. Understandable. The box may have looked like all the others, but the memories it contained were anything but. Scootloo’s wings locked against her side, pulsing rapidly with each step.

Sweetie Belle quickly trotted in front of Scootaloo, placing a hoof on her foreleg. “Hey, Scoots, how about we go... uh... play a game of tag!” She tapped her hoof. “You’re it!” she cried out, voice squeaking, as she took a few steps back. Scootaloo did not stray from her path. She could not. Sweetie Belle whimpered as Scootaloo reached the box, wedged her hooves under the lid. The box popped open like a coffin, sending a rush of dust and painful memories into the air. Scootaloo’s throat closed as she pulled a cyan-colored balloon out of the box. Four legs, two wings. She bit the inside of her cheek. A pony.

Scootaloo turned it in her hoof, flinching with each squeak. The nose sagged slightly—an expected side effect of time—but for the most part, it had retained its shape. Had it been Pinkie’s doing? She wanted to say it was Pinkie’s handiwork, but the animal was too clean and preserved. Twilight? Rarity? No, definitely not Rarity; she wouldn’t come within two inches of this thing. Scootaloo sighed and ran a hoof along the balloon’s rainbow ‘tail,’ squinting. No, it had to be Pinkie’s work. Only Scootaloo and her ever seemed to remember that it went ‘red, orange, yellow,’ not ‘red, yellow, orange.’

She set the balloon aside and rummaged through the rest of the items. They were mostly miscellaneous—a blanket, some matches, a half-eaten candy cane—but there were some that Scootaloo knew all too well. Items that warmed and crushed her heart simultaneously. She let out a whimpering chuckle as she pulled out an wrinkly sheet of painted paper. “Hey, Apple Bloom. Remember this?”

The painting, done entirely in watercolor, depicted what Scootaloo could only guess was herself flying beside a blue blob that she assumed was Rainbow Dash. They appeared to be locked in a battle with a monster—a dragon with a wolf’s face and tentacles for teeth. Considering the quality of the piece, they may have been baking a cake.

Apple Bloom shuddered but forced a smile. “Unfortunately. I gave ya that for your... seventh birthday? I think it was your seventh, but, shoot, were you even in town then? Whatever year it was, you said you wanted sometin’ that was ‘cool’ and ‘awesome’ and such. Our first birthday party as friends.” She chuckled. “Boy howdy, I sure’ve come a long way. Look at that! The coloring, the shapes, the concept. It stinks worse than Winona’s breath after she gets into the onion patch.”

Scootaloo tuned her out and glanced back down at the assorted memories. She tossed the poster back in the box and walked back to her book. Scootaloo picked it up and skimmed over the last sentence in the chapter before flipping it closed. It was crazy. Stupid. Books were not real—Daring Do was not real—yet she could not shake the feeling in her gut. The weight of the air. Yes, it was crazy.

But so was she.

Her gaze met the back wall. Somewhere off to the side, Apple Bloom’s ears fell flat against her head while Sweetie Belle spoke in wordless squeaks. Scootaloo couldn’t see her own face, but she was sure her expression wasn’t pleasant. Not that she cared what she looked like at that moment. She had an announcement to make, a fate to seal.

“I’m going.”

Apple Bloom stared at Scootaloo, head tilted, eyebrow raised. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a droning “Uh” came out. Scootaloo didn't look up, keeping her eyes on the book, scanning the final pages over and over again.

Two worlds... Barrier... Holes... The Phoenix Pool. Just pointless prose, yet it struck as true as her heart hammered against her chest.

“Uh, Scoots? Equestria to Scoots. Hello?” Apple Bloom waved a hoof in front of Scootaloo’s face. Tapped the floor. Scootaloo read on.“You’re ‘goin?' Goin’ where? Why? What the hay are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Apple Bloom glanced at Sweetie Belle, as if expecting her to suddenly have an answer, but she merely shrugged.

“Yeah, Scoots.” Her voice cracked at the end. “What are you talking about?”

Scootaloo’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t look up. “It’s crazy. I’m going, I’m crazy,” she whispered, tapping her hoof on the ground as she scanned the pages. Was the library open? She’d need more books.

Apple Bloom let out a throaty groan.“Yeah. Okay. You’re goin’ somewhere. Where? Home? It ain’t that late, but I reckon I understand”

Scootaloo finally looked up. “I’m going.”

Apple Bloom buried her face in her hoof. “You said that a million times already. What the hay ya goin’ on about? Where the hay are you going?!”

“I’m going to get Rainbow back.”

The room fell silent.

“What?” Sweetie Belle’s knees buckled, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I’m going to get Rainbow back.” Scootaloo thrust a hoof against the book, punctuating each word.

“Are ya serious?” Apple Bloom scoffed, taking a step back, shaking her head and scoffing, “Jeez, you really are serious. I know that look. You… you honestly think...” She trailed off, scrunching her nose and glaring out the window. "I got no words. Unbelievable," she muttered, just loud enough for Scootaloo to hear.

“Of course, I’m serious!” Scootaloo’s cheeks burned hot as the sun. She took a step forward. The page crinkled beneath her hoof. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Well, let’s do the math.” Apple Bloom paced around her, nodding her head and mouthing silent words, before stopping in front of her. She tapped her chin with her hoof and glanced at the ceiling, as if its boards held the answer. “Carry the nine...” She lowered her hoof and glowered. “Oh yeah, because it’s reckless, it’s impossible. Hay, it’s stupid.”

Apple Bloom didn’t have time to react before Scootaloo dashed forward, coming nose to nose with her. “Stupid?” Her voice shook the clubhouse. “It’s not stupid!”

“Sounds pretty stupid to me,” Apple Bloom scoffed. “I mean 'gettin’ Rainbow back?' That—I’m sorry, Scoots—but that’s just crazy talk.”

“No, it’s not!”

Apple Bloom sighed and reached out, patting Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Look, Scootaloo. You’re taking this hard. We all are. And… I’m sorry, I know we all got our own ways of dealin’ with this stuff, but…” She stared at the floor and took a shaky breath. Her legs quaked. Scootaloo furrowed her brow. A sniffle trickled through the air. Was she crying?

Scootaloo backed away and cleared her throat. “Uh, Apple Bloom?”

Apple Bloom wiped her face with her foreleg and cleared her throat. “Damn it.” She rapped a hoof against the floor. “Scoots, you know I love ya. We all do, but... but this ain’t helpin’. Ain’t helpin’ you, ain’t helpin’ me, ain’t helpin’ nopony.”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “The hay are you saying?”

“ ‘The hay I’m sayin’?’I’m saying, hold onta Rainbow, grieve like you gotta grieve and Sweetie and I’ll be here to help ya no matter what, but…” The words trailed off and she moved her gaze to a window. She wiped her nose with a foreleg. “Death don’t work like this, trust me I know. Don’t hold onto a pipe dream. Ain’t healthy.”

“A pipe dream?” Scootaloo snorted. “That’s what you think this is?” She picked up her book, opened it to the first page, and pressed it into Apple Bloom’s face. “Look here, Apple Bloom. Look at this map! Notice anything familiar?”Apple Bloom shoved the book off her muzzle and glared.

“Scootaloo.”

“Look at it!”

Apple Bloom glowered but Scootaloo could see her scanning the map, raising a hoof to tap the page occasionally. “I… I don’t see much of anything here. It’s a map. Big deal.”

“Look right here!” Scootaloo tapped the lower right corner of the page with her hoof. “You see the name? Right beside that dot?”

“Canterlot.” Apple Bloom looked up and shrugged. “So? It’s the capital of Equestria. I could go through Mac’s books and find the same map a dozen times over.”

Scootaloo’s jaw dropped. “So? So, there’s a chance that this could be real!”

Apple Bloom tilted her head, sitting back on her haunches and shaking out a hind leg. “And what is ‘this?’ What am I s’pposed to be lookin’ for here?”

“Here! Look here!” Scootaloo tapped at the top corner of the page. “That mountain right there is where the Phoenix Pool is.” Or so she hoped. The line was leading right there, so there was no other explanation. Right?

“What the hay is a ‘Phoenix Pool’?" Apple Bloom said. "Sounds like a swimmin’ hole.” She forced a chuckle. Scootaloo didn’t laugh along.

“A swimming hole?" she stammered. "A swimming... Really?” Massaging her temples, Scootaloo leaned back and stomped a hind leg. “It’s not a damn ‘swimming hole.’ It’s this... well, it’s basically a place where you can find... dead things and bring them back.”

Apple Bloom snorted. “What was I just sayin’ earlier, Scoots? It… It don’t work like that.”

“No! This is... there’s a chance.” Scootaloo closed her eyes and dredged for an answer that wasn’t there. Her lips dried out and her temples throbbed. “There’s gotta be a chance.” Sniffling, she waited for another blow, but the air remained still. Somewhere to her right, Sweetie let out ragged breaths. Hoofsteps approached, followed soon by a weight on her back. She pulled free, slapping Apple Bloom’s hoof away.

The farm filly’s expression remained flat. “This is important ta ya. She was important, but you got—”

Scootaloo slammed her hoof against the floor. “You’re damn right she’s important to me! And that’s why I’m going to do something about it.”

Apple Bloom groaned. “Scootaloo. Quit bein’ a fool. Ya—”

“Oh, cut the crap, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo groused.

“Crap? What crap?” Apple Bloom's mouth curved into a disgusted frown. “Scoots, what’re ya—”

“You didn’t know her the way I did! She didn’t mean anything to you, and now she’s gone, and I need—"

“Shut up!”

Scootaloo nearly fell to the floor as Apple Bloom bore down on her. She backed herself against the wall, and stared up at her enraged friend through shrunken, shaking pupils.

“You... selfish...” Apple Bloom seethed, her face reddening. “You think you’re the only one hurting? You think that just ‘cause I didn’t worship the ground she stood on that I don’t care?" She slammed a hoof against the floor and growled. "She saved me too. You weren’t the only on there. I still can’t sleep ‘cause of all of it.” She turned her back and walked toward the makeshift podium they had set up oh so many moons ago. As she walked, the sun hit her back. The scars had healed but Scootaloo could still make out dried blood, still healing bruises. The doctors had called her lucky.

They had called Scootaloo a miracle.

“I…” Rocking back and forth, Scootaloo stared at her hooves and felt the heat seeping from her body. If she let out a breath, she might be able to see it, but she had none left to give. She opened her mouth several times before the words finally leaked out. “Apple Bloom... I... Look, I…”

“Stop. Just stop it, Scoots. You’ve been a real jerk the whole time you’ve been here, and I’m sick of it," Apple Bloom said, head lowered and eyes set in a glower. "I don’t need any more of you at the moment.” With that she trudged to the door, her left hind leg lagging a second behind. She stopped briefly to give Sweetie Belle a pat on the back and whisper something in her ear. They exchanged nods, and Apple Bloom gimped on out the door. Before descending the ramp, she turned to Scootaloo. “You… go on ahead and do what you think you should do. It ain’t gonna do you no good, but what do I know?” With that she disappeared down the ramp.

Seconds ticked by like eternities. Scootaloo found herself running a hoof along the opened book. The pages had become a little crumpled, but she could still make it out. The map, the markings, the one chance she’d have. “Can… can you believe her?”

Sweetie Belle stared out the window, horn flickering, biting her lower lip. “I—” She coughed and shook her head.

“Sweetie Belle? What’s wrong? You okay?” Scootaloo asked.

“She’s right,” Sweetie Belle said flatly, refusing to make eye contact. “You need help.”

Scootaloo frowned and cocked her head to the side. “Not you too’”

Sweetie Belle shot her a pleading look. “You’re scaring me, Scoots. This is eating you up, and… stars, I just want to do something to help. Help you let it out somehow.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. Unlike Apple Bloom, she didn’t even bother wiping them.

Scootaloo laughed nervously. “Scaring you? How? I’m as big as you are? Hay, you… heh, you might be taller! I...” Her throat caught hold of her tongue. She was going to be sick. “You seriously think I’m scary?”

Sweetie Belle rolled her brimming eyes. “Not like that, you dodo. The… the way you’re acting. It scares me. It’s scaring all of us.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sweetie Belle sighed and shook her head. “Come on, Scootaloo. You think I’m that stupid? Just an hour ago. were acting like you’d seen a ghost. You froze up right there in the middle of the orchard. Hay, you acted like you were ready for something to attack us when we got here.” She trotted to the front window and stared off into the orchard. “Then you finally get here and just blow up in Apple Bloom’s face.” Her voice shook. “Then you say you’re going on some wild goose chase, it—”

“Woah, woah, woah. Wild goose chase? Sweetie, don’t tell me you don’t believe me either.”

Sweetie Belle sighed and lowered her head, biting her lip, eyes darting to the floor. Scootaloo cleared her throat, and Sweetie Belle jumped with a squeak. Her misty eyes met Scootaloo’s. “I’m sorry. I want to believe you, but... I don’t know. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Sweetie Belle tapped her hoof against the floor and glanced around the room. “I don’t know why I can't, I just can’t—”

Scootaloo slammed a hoof on the floor. “Why?”

Sweetie Belle recoiled, lowering her head, and trembling. “Please, Scoots. Don’t be mad,” she whimpered.

“Answer me!”

“I... I...” Sweetie Belle stammered. She lowered herself to the floor and began to shake. Sobs followed not long after.

Scootaloo looked away. Stop it! She scolded herself. She didn’t do a damn thing. Don’t take this out on her. She moved to the table and picked up the Rainbow Dash balloon, rotating it in her hooves. This isn’t how she’d act. She placed the balloon back on the table and stood on shaky hooves. Two steps were all she was able to take before falling back on her haunches. “Sweetie Belle?”

The prone unicorn sniffed. “What?” she asked through a muffled voice.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for a lot of things, but right now. Yeah. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.” Through sheer will, she was able to get her legs working long enough to make her way over to Sweetie Belle. The filly glanced up at her for a second, but quickly looked away. Scootaloo bit her lip and wrapped a foreleg around her as she lay down as well. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Sweetie Belle kept her muzzle buried but she leaned into Scootaloo’s foreleg. “It’s okay.”

Silence overtook them once more. It ticked by with a shifting light. Scootaloo glanced out the window and noticed that a hint of orange was starting to grow in the sky. “Wow, that late already?” she muttered. “I’d better get going.”

“Yeah, same here.”

Scootaloo lifted herself up and, after stretching some feeling back into her legs, trotted out the door and down the ramp, Sweetie Belle on her heels. Once they reached the bottom, Scootaloo retrieved her scooter and flapped her wings, warning her tense muscles. At this hour, they’d soon be working double-time. She kicked the dirt and rolled up beside Sweetie Belle. “Want a ride?” she said.

Sweetie Belle shook her head, horn alight and tightening her saddlebags. “Thanks, but no, I’ll pass.”

Scootaloo shot a grin. “What? You chicken?” She leaned forward on the handlebars.

“No, I’d just prefer to not break my neck.”

“There are worse things.”

“Not really.” Sweetie Belle shook her head and glanced skyward. “It’s not you, I’m just scared.”

Scootaloo pushed her helmet back, frowning. “‘Not me.’ Uh huh, sure. Look, I’m not that bad.”

“Sure, whatever you say Miss ‘I Only Crashed Two Times This Week.’”

“That’s a personal record!” Scootaloo laughed.

Sweetie Belle giggled and trotted down the path, Scootaloo rolling close behind. They were almost out of the orchard when Sweetie Belle spoke up: “So are you still going?”

“Huh?”

“That whole ‘getting Rainbow Dash back’ thing. Are you still going to do it?”

Scootaloo looked to the sky and sighed. Of course she was! What would Rainbow say if she just gave up on her like that? All it took was one sight Sweetie Belle’s pleading look to brush the honesty aside. “Nah," she said, rocking back and forth on the handlebars. "It was a silly idea. I wish it wasn’t, but you two were right.”

Sweetie Belle smiled. Scootaloo’s ears fell flat. Lying sucked. Lying to Sweetie Belle was like a knife to the wing. “Okay,” Sweetie piped, skipping for a moment. “So, you want to meet up here tomorrow?”

“Do you think Apple Bloom will let us?”.

“She’ll be fine. She just needs some time to cool off. Just like you did.”

Scootaloo nodded. “Well, I’m not sure about tomorrow. Gotta do some chores. How’s Sunday sound?”

“Sounds fine by me,” Sweetie Belle said, her grin radiant even in the growing shadows.

“Great," Scootaloo said with a frown. If it wouldn’t have been such a loud act, she would have punched herself on the leg right then and there. "See you then.”

“All right, see you Scootaloo.” Sweetie Belle waved and gaily trotted in the direction of Ponyville. Once she was out of sight, Scootaloo let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and rolled down the bumpy pathway home.

Author's Note:

Special Thanks to: Corejo, Mr. Dependable, and Tayman

Comments

[-newt-]

welp, that was an utterly wonderful chapter, and I look forward to the next update!
till next time!

[Alondro]

Wait, I'm still following this?

When was this last... 2012?! Ok, this smashes the record for longest-idle fic to come back from the dead.

Now, will it be another 7 years to the next chapter? I mean, I only have immortality to wait for this to complete and I'm not sure it's enough time!

[RazedRainbow]

9802069
With immortality, with my pace, you'll make it to... square that, carry the 6... um chapter 27 before your immortality runs out. By that point you'll be able to figure out the ending so I'd stay aboard this crazy train.