In Another Pony’s Hooves

by Keeper of time RD

Chapter 4: A Sweetie Day

As morning came Scootaloo’s mind woke slowly. She didn’t want to open her eyes, but she didn’t have to. An attempt to open her wings, only to feel the sensation of nothing proved she didn’t have any wings. Twisting her face deeper into her pillow found an extra resistance from the horn on her forehead. She was definitely in Sweetie Belle’s body all right.

Scootaloo sat up as her mind told her it was time to get up, but Sweetie Belle’s body was trying to pull her back into sleep. Sweetie Belle, I think your body clock is broken. Scootaloo thought to herself.

“Sweetie! Time to wake up!” the voice of Sweetie Belle’s mom called from downstairs.

As soon as she heard it she could feel Sweetie’s body agree that it was time to wake up. Oh, I get it. You get a wake up call every morning. Scootaloo thought, as she was finally able to command her borrowed body to leave the bed altogether.

Walking over to Sweetie Belle’s dresser and looking into the mirror she found that Sweetie Belle’s mane had a natural curl to it, but the bed head still showed. A brush sitting by the mirror told Scootaloo that Sweetie must fix her hair in the morning. First she picked the brush up with her mouth and then she glared at herself in the mirror. Ditching her dumb natural instinct of holding things in her mouth she spit it back out and tried holding it between her front hooves. While that allowed her actualy reach her mane, it felt awkward, clumsy and she was fairly sure she was making her mane worse, not better. Then she tried curling one hoof around the brush like it was a cup. That got the other leg out of her way and felt better but the strokes she made still only seemed to mess Sweetie Belle’s mane up even more.

Why is this so hard? It’s not like I’ve never… Scootaloo froze at the thought. When was the last time she’d taken a brush to her own mane? Was it the wedding at Canterlot? She remembered being dressed up real fancy to be a flower girl, surely somepony had styled her mane even if she didn’t do it herself. Glancing around Scootaloo saw that Sweetie had some pictures from the wedding reception, it took only a second to find the one with the trio of friends together. Scootaloo frowned as she looked at herself in the picture, with the same windswept helmet-hair style she always had, only with a crown of flowers in it.

The more Scootaloo thought about it the more it occurred to her that the last time she had done anything other then wash her mane was when she spiked it up for a rock and roll song she and her friends had put on for a school talent show. And Sweetie Belle had been the one to style it for her. “Oh I give up.” Scootaloo whispered harshly, as she put the brush back and walked away. If Sweetie Belle didn’t like seeing her own mane messed up, she could fix it herself at school.

She found where Apple Bloom had put Sweetie’s schoolbags just in time to hear Sweetie’s mom call out, “Sweetie, hurry up and come down here or you won’t have time to make yourself breakfast!”

Scootaloo had expected to find what she needed to make a cold bowl of cereal or something, instead she found the kitchen counters lined with just about anything she could imagine. “Oh good we still have time for cocking lessons, so what did we want to make today, Sweetie?”

A nervous smile appeared on the filly’s face. Neither Sweetie Belle nor Apple Bloom had bothered to mention that Sweetie had morning cooking lessons. And while the thought have having a warm breakfast for once in her life was appealing to Scootaloo, she didn’t have a clue what Sweetie Belle knew how make.

At home Scootaloo had never been one to make anything that needed heat as an ingredient. Something about her father’s goodbye always including the line ‘don’t burn the house down.’ Although he always said it in jest she had always avoided touching things that might make her fail to fulfil that command when her dad wasn’t home anyway. But she had parents watching her now, and even asking her to make something.

The filly’s eyes fell on a loaf of bread, a tub of butter, and the jars of cinnamon and sugar. The idea was simple, simple enough that even Sweetie Belle should know this recipe. Jumping into action she gathered her targeted supplies and set them away from everything else on the counter. With two slices of bread buttered, sprinkled with the condiments, and tossed into the toaster oven, a question popped into the filly’s mind. Turning to Sweetie’s parents, Scootaloo asked, “Am I just making enough for me or am I making you some too?”

“I’d love a slice,” Sweetie’s mom said with a voice that practically shouted ‘I’m going to say you did good, no matter how good or bad it really is.’

“I’ll take one too, Sweetie,” Sweetie’s dad said, in a much more casual and, to Scootaloo’s ears at least, honest tone.

Scootaloo started making two more slices of cinnamon toast. However, she had barely finished buttering them when she noticed the toast in the toaster oven was already getting darker than she’d intended. Quickly taking the butter knife in her mouth, she opened the toaster oven and used the knife to slide the toast out onto the counter. She quickly finished preparing the other two slices of bread and tossed them in the toaster, watching the second set like a hawk, she quickly found them turning dark as well.

This time Scootaloo had a plate ready and shoveled the second set of toast out onto it. She gave the more perfect pieces of cinnamon toast to Sweetie’s parents, while keeping the slightly over-toasted ones for herself.

As she ate her breakfast her tongue came alive to the taste. It was simple, sweet, and warm and it warmed more than the filly’s mouth and belly to have so simple a luxury this early in the morning. It was a little crunchier than she’d intended but nothing that couldn’t be saved by the fact that she'd probably overdone it on the sugar.

When Scootaloo finished eating a new warmth came when Sweetie Belle’s mother pulled the filly into a hug saying, “This is amazing, Sweetie, your best yet. Tell you what. I’ll make you a special treat for lunch today.” Despite her earlier tone this praise sounded sincere, and even if it wasn’t being wrapped in a mother’s love was more than enough for Scootaloo.

The last time Scootaloo had felt love like that was on that fateful night near Winsome Falls when Rainbow Dash had agreed to take the filly under her wing as an honorary sister. Then as suddenly as it had begun the hug ended as Sweetie’s mom turned back to the counter and started preparing something for the filly to take to school as lunch.

Maybe he’d seen something in her eyes, but whatever the reason Sweetie Belle’s dad lowered his morning newspaper and motioned for the pony he thought was his daughter to come to him. When Scootaloo obeyed he too gave the filly a hug. It didn’t feel as deeply meaningful as the mother’s or even as the last heartfelt hug Scootaloo had received from her own father but this was a fresh memory, un-dulled by the passage of time, and she soaked it in anyway. So this is what it’s like to have a normal family. She thought to herself, as she lingered in the feeling, and not just the knowledge, of a parent’s love.

Soon, just two more. Scootaloo thought to herself. Soon she’d have enough successful missions under her belt. Then her own dad wouldn’t be able to deny her anymore, then she could come with him again. Earn his love once again, instead of always being left behind. Until she could feel this affection from her own dad again, this taste would have to do.

“You okay Sweetie?” the father asked in a soft tone.

“Yeah… I just needed this… Thank you.” Scootaloo answered, finally and reluctantly backing out of the embrace. The only downside in Scootaloo’s mind was that she knew that the love she’d just felt wasn’t truly for her but for the pony they thought she was, Sweetie Belle, and it felt slightly wrong for her to be basking in the love meant for her friend.

* * * * * * *

Scootaloo was practically skipping when she reached school. Apple Bloom trotted up, opened her newly borrowed wings, and greeting her friend in a hushed tone, “Hey Scootaloo.” Even Scootaloo joined in giggling at being greeted by her own body, just she had done to Apple Bloom the other day. After a moment Bloom added, “So what’s got ya in such a good mood today?”

Scootaloo directed her answer to the earth pony of the trio, “Sweetie Belle, remember last night? Let’s just say you’ve already repaid me.”

“Really? How’d I do that?” Sweetie asked, as Apple Bloom looked back and forth between the other two fillies.

“My dad’s usually gone to work before I wake up. So it was nice to have somepony there for a change. Oh and I really seem to impress your mom during your cooking lesson. Oh yeah! She seems to think you know how to make cinnamon toast now,” Scootaloo answered as quietly as her happy mood allowed.

Sweetie Belle frowned slightly as she responded, “Then you’re going to have to show me how to do that.”

“Really? It’s easy…” Scootaloo was surprised that Sweetie didn’t know, but went on to tell the simplistic recipe to her friend anyway. “…Oh and watch it closely, I think your toaster runs way too hot or something.” She finished just in time for the school bell to call them inside for the first class.

“Enough fun and games you two. Time to get in character,” Apple Bloom said with a smile, and a flutter of her wings, that told she was really enjoying acting like each other.

* * * * * * *

Yesterday Scootaloo had taken the act for granted, after all her and Apple Bloom’s grades were more or less the same. But now she was in the hot seat. If she was going to convince Cheerilee that she was Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo would really have to do better than normal. But how does one act smarter than you really are? If she don’t know the answer it’s not like pretending to know was going to get her to give the right answer like Sweetie would have.

Scootaloo was sweating bullets, trying to stay awake to the painfully dull topic, and more importantly keep her book open to the page that was talking about the same thing as Cheerilee. “Sweetie Belle, care to tell us when the expedition discovered Saddle Arabia?”

Sweetie Belle… oh crud that’s me isn’t it? Scootaloo thought. “umm…” was all she said as her eyes darted around the pages of her book, checking numbers until she found the ones with the requested information. She relayed the answer right from the book.

“Very good Sweetie Belle,” Cheerilee praised the unicorn filly and then resumed the lesson.

Scootaloo slumped down in her seat a little, somehow she’d given an acceptable answer and would be safe for another ten minutes or so, as that seemed to be how long it took before their teacher would come back to Sweetie for an answer.

* * * * * * *

“I don’t envy you one bit Sweetie Belle. How do you stand the pressure of Cheerilee always expecting the right answer from you?” Scootaloo asked.

The earth pony glanced at the streets of Ponyville around them. The trio wasn’t exactly alone, but they were ‘alone in a crowd’ enough that nopony noticed the unicorn addressing herself. “All I do is pay attention in class and answer what I can,” she said in a low tone, innocently enough that it was clear she wasn’t bragging.

A moment of silent walking later and Apple Bloom had an idea. “Ah know. How about y’all show me Scootaloo’s place?” the pegasus whispered with a bit of a grin.

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow and glared in a way that said ‘haven’t we been over this before?’ Sweetie Belle gave a devious grin. Scootaloo bowed her head in defeat and motioned for her friends to follow. Sweetie knew where she lived now, so Scootaloo knew that if she didn’t show Apple Bloom where she lived now, Sweetie would just show her later. Since it was going to happen anyway Scootaloo felt she owed it to her friend to be the one to do it.

Once they’d arrived Scootaloo stopped and motioned to the house before her. “Ah don’t get it. What’s so secret about this?” Apple Bloom said, as she looked over the seemingly normal house. The house in question was more or less of the same simple wooden design as all others on the street. It even shared the same style of thatched roof as the surrounding homes. Indeed the only thing that set this house apart from any of the others on the street were the two white pillars flanking the front door, and supporting the extended second floor. Apple Bloom’s grin returned as she asked, “Since we’re here can we look inside? Maybe get ah quick glass of water?”

“No,” Scootaloo answered flatly.

“Why not? I’ve seen your living room and there wasn’t anything dangerous about it. True it felt a little weird, but I blame waking up in your body for that,” Sweetie Belle volunteered.

Scootaloo glared at her friends, with a genuine hint of anger in her eyes. Anger that was directed more at herself and her dad for their crazy mixed up lives getting in the way of her attempts to enjoy the normal things in life than at her friends. And maybe a little bit of anger at her actual friends as she knew that with their curiosity re-ignited they’d be pestering her for at least a few weeks before they’d let the topic die again.

The act did the trick as her friends backed down and followed as Scootaloo started walking away from her house. After a moment Apple Bloom tried to lighten the mood with a positive comment, “At least we know where ya live now.”

“Like that’ll do you any good,” Scootaloo countered. On seeing the look she was drawing from her friends she added, “Come on, you two know me well enough to know that if I can play and I’m not with you I’m usually riding around town on my scooter.”

“Don’t you ever just hang out at home?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“No,” Scootaloo answered.

“How come?” Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo thought on the question for a bit. When she answered she said, “Because my house is not a place for fun. I eat there. I sleep there. I do my homework there. I don’t play there.”

“Why not?” her friends asked in unison.

Once more Scootaloo had to think long and hard for an answer. Her dad had never actually forbid her to play in the house. When had she stopped having fun at her house? When she found it she shared her best guess with her friends. “I guess it’s because dad expects me to keep the house clean. And I found the easiest way to keep him happy is to not mess it up in the first place. I think that’s way I’m always playing outside on my scooter, or with you guys.”

At first silence followed as the trio of fillies walked on. Then Apple Bloom broke the silence by asking, “Your dad really trusts you doesn’t he?” A nod answered her question, and then Bloom added, “Ah wish AJ trusted me like that… But ya know, all you had to do was tell us all this and we could have promised not to touch anything while you showed us around.”

“Isn’t Applejack going to expect you two to be back at sweet apple acres soon?” Scootaloo asked, trying to change the topic.

“Yeah. Oh! You should get going too, before Rarity starts worrying about me,” Sweetie Belle responded, as she picked up her pace.

“Wait! Rarity? Aren’t I going to your place Sweetie?” Scootaloo asked, caught off guard by the implied destination.

“Huh? Oh, no, nopony’s home right after school, and I’m not allowed to be home alone. So I have to stay at Rarity’s until my parents come home.”

“Oh, so that’s why you do that,” Scootaloo thought out loud.

“See y’all back at the clubhouse later!” Apple Bloom said, and with that the trio parted ways. Scootaloo heading to Rarity’s place to play ‘Sweetie Belle’ for the time being, and her friends heading back to the apple family farm to resume their day as their other friend.

* * * * * * *

Scootaloo’s experience with Rarity had been that whenever she’d lingered in Rarity’s boutique she’d been forced to play mannequin while the elder unicorn made a dress around her. So far the filly had managed to avoid that dreadfully boring fate. But she’d found herself with another problem. What did Sweetie Belle do when she was hanging out with her older sister?

She tried to dig through her mind for an answer, but the only time she’d really seen Sweetie Belle hang out with her older sister in a casual setting was on a camping trip where Rarity treated Sweetie like a pack mule. Sweetie Belle had pulled a horrendously over-packed wagon and cheerfully performed every chore her older sister had asked of her, not exactly Scootaloo’s idea of fun… or hanging out… or a nice way to treat anypony for that matter.

So far she’d kept out of Rarity’s way by sitting in the corner with a sheet of paper and some crayons. But when the filly had started to draw she had to stop herself, as she was fairly sure that Sweetie Belle wouldn’t draw a picture of Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo looked down at the unfinished blue pegasus on her paper. She’d already drawn the wings by the time she’d realized she didn’t know what sort of things her friend would draw. Ultimately deciding that Sweetie would draw a pony in a dress or something. But Scootaloo had never really cared for fashion like the mare with the white coat and purple mane, working diligently before her, or the friend she knew looked up the that unicorn.

She pondered how to draw a dress on the pegasus she’d started, and that looked like she actualy cared about dressmaking. Looking up, she sighed as she saw the dress Rarity was working on lacked wing holes or sleeves so copying that onto the drawing wasn’t an option in the filly’s mind.

“Sweetie darling, would you mind giving this a quick wash?” Rarity’s words snapped the filly back to reality.

Left to her own, Scootaloo would have said ‘no’ but that’s not what she thought Sweetie Belle would’ve said, so she forced a smile and answered, “Sure, no problem.”

The dress being held in the soft blue glow of Rarity’s magic folded several times before being placed on the filly’s back. Scootaloo then took the dress downstairs and endeavored to find the wash room. Only once she’d found the wash room did it occur to her that she’d never washed her own cloths before, her father always did the laundry before. “It’s just laundry. How hard can it be?” she asked herself.

Spying two wash tubs and a box of powdered soap her first inclination was to treat the chore like washing dishes. So she filled the tubs with water and poured some of the soap into one of them. The idea being one to wash, one to rinse. And she’d seen more than enough cloths lines riding her scooter around town, so she had a good guess how she was suppose to dry the dress.

Scootaloo dropped the dress into to the soapy water and began swishing it around to clean it. As expected, soap bubbles began to form on the water. Not quite as expected, they continued to form, building up into a mound, threatening to spill over the edges of the tub. The filly’s ears fell to the side of her head as she thought, I used too much soap didn’t I? Removing her front legs from the water allowed it to settle and stop making more bubbles. But that didn’t tell her how to salvage this mess.

Looking around the wash room her eyes fell on the back door. Opening it, not surprisingly, she found the back yard and Rarity’s cloths line. Though it was the dirt and grass of the back yard that interested Scootaloo, if she had to make a mess better to do it where it might not get noticed.

She did her best to push the washtub without bothering the water, but that task proved impossible and with only a few steps the bubbles began flowing over the edges and onto her as she pushed the tub from the room. By the time Scootaloo got the tub into the yard she was covered from horn to hoof with soap bubbles. Hanging her head in defeat she consigned herself to her fate, closed her eyes, thrust her front legs into the soapy water and resumed washing the dress. While completely ignoring the building foam of bubbles as they consumed her, leaving only a mound of soapy bubbles visible in the yard.

Once satisfied that the dress had been washed, Scootaloo returned to the wash room to fetch the tub with the clean water. And once the dress had been rinsed, she had to return to the washroom once more to find where Rarity kept her cloths pins.

Looking over the dress as it dangled from the cloths line, Scootaloo couldn’t help but notice the annoyingly feeling of the soap residue in her fur. Looking back to the rinse washtub a smile formed on the filly’s face as she jumped in and started splashing around to rinse herself too. And before long the tub had become an ocean in her mind as she adventured along side an imaginary Rainbow Dash exploring it.

“An… acceptable job… Thank you Sweetie Belle.” Rarity’s forced praise snapped Scootaloo out of her daydream.

Scootaloo’s eyes found the mare standing in the doorway. And while the bubbles had long since popped on their own the pathway of soapy water still glistened clearly in the afternoon sun. Realizing that she’d forgotten to clean up after herself, she feared she’d just given away the fact that she didn’t have a clue how to do laundry properly, like she assumed Sweetie Belle did. “I can clean it up,” Scootaloo offered.

“Oh no, that’s quite alright. Besides won’t your friends be expecting you by now?” Rarity responded with a tone of voice that hinted at just trying to get rid of ‘Sweetie Belle’ while sounding nice about it.

“Right! I’ll get my things,” Scootaloo said perking up at the excuse to flee the fashionista’s home and starting to climb out of the washtub.

“Not like that you’re not!” Rarity said, grabbing up the filly in a sheath of her blue magic glow. “You would make mud if you walked across the dirt with your wet hooves like that. Come along and we’ll dry you off properly.” She explained, as she levitated the filly along behind her.

At this point Scootaloo was just hoping that Rarity didn’t notice how badly she’d cringed when grabbed by the magic. It wasn’t a feeling she was use to, or liked for that matter. Not that it felt bad, only unusual, like having a skin tight blanket lifting her from underneath and a bunch of suction cups gently pulling her up all at once. She didn’t have to tolerate the feeling long though, as it only took a moment before Rarity had taken her inside, wrapped her in a towel and set her down gently enough.

After a brief assault of magically levitated towels the filly was fully dried, and with a nod from the elder unicorn, Scootaloo took that as her cue to scram. Dashing to where she’d left Sweetie Belle’s saddlebags, she found a small paper bag sitting on top of them. Thanks to the aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies coming from it, the filly didn’t need to open the bag to know what was in it. A small note attached to the bag advised her to share them with her friends. Scootaloo was more than happy to obey, and she added the bag of snacks to the saddlebags and headed out.

* * * * * * *

Hours had passed since Sweetie Belle had left, and Rarity had just finished eating the snack that was going to pass for an early dinner when there was a knock on her door. Rarity had closed the shop early due to a combination of a lack of in-store business and a recently received, and rather daunting, mail order that came from one of the Canterlot catalogs. So she was expecting to find one of her close friends when she opened the door, after all who else would knock on her door when the sign said ‘closed’?

Much to Rarity’s surprise she found a pegasus stallion of the royal guard at her door. “Is Sweetie Belle here?” he wasted no time asking, breathing heavy as if he’d just flown a race.

Rarity immediately took notice of the stallion’s winded tone, and she answered, “Oh my, what did my sister do now?”

The guard proceeded to tell her a story about transporting an artifact and suspecting an ambush hiding it in the saddlebag of a passing filly. As he spoke Rarity examined the stallion, and while suspicion wasn’t part of Rarity’s nature she could only watch it serve Rainbow Dash well so many times before gaining an appreciation for it. At first the stallion’s story seemed to carry weight as he had the wounds to match, but as he neared the end of his story Rarity had noticed that the guard’s armor was still spotlessly polished to a shine. The stallion may have been in a fight but his armor had not.

“…So please is your sister here or not?” he concluded.

Unsure she wanted to trust the pony in the guard armor, but also not wanting to lie if he was really a royal guard, Rarity was thankful that a truthful answer would be useless to him. “I’m so sorry, but at this time of day she’s probably with her friends. And, knowing them, they could be anywhere in town,” she answered, with the false sincerity of a trained actress, neglecting to volunteer any information about the filly’s clubhouse.

The door closed and the stallion found himself alone on the shop’s welcome mat. With a beat of his wings he took off into the sky, turning his head downward, searching the growing evening shadows. Though his destination wasn’t Ponyville proper. Idiot, of course Scootaloo would be with her friends. Captain Cloud Wall mentally scolded himself as he flew right at sweet apple acres.

* * * * * * *

“Are ya sure we can’t go to your place?”

“I’d be in serious trouble if dad caught me letting you two in the house,” Scootaloo answered with an exasperated sigh. She would have thought being in the wrong bodies would distract her friends at least a little, but Apple Bloom seemed intent on trying to not be the only one of the three who hadn’t seen the inside of Scootaloo’s house.

“This coming from the pony that suggested sneaking out of Fluttershy’s place to go adventuring in the Everfree Forest. It’s not like your dad has to know you let me take a peek in your home. Besides, Sweetie Belle got to see and it’s not like you’re in trouble for that,” Apple Bloom insisted, with an unintentional flaring of her wings giving away her annoyance.

“Look if you want to play ‘being Scootaloo’ there’s my scooter, there’s my helmet. Go ride my scooter like I do or something. And just forget about my house already!” Scootaloo practically yelled in frustration of her own. She started to storm out of the clubhouse but stopped in the doorway as a memory of Apple Bloom’s less than acrobatic attempt to dance for a school talent show flashed in her mind. “Just don’t try any of my stunts, those are harder then they look to pull off. And I don’t want you braking my scooter,” Scootaloo added.

“Wait, where are you going?” Sweetie Belle asked, trying to calm the anger between her friends.

“Your house, to see if I can get through the rest of the day making your parents think I’m you, without hiding from them all day,” Scootaloo answered as she marched down the tree-house ramp.

Scootaloo had barely gotten past the sign welcoming visitors to sweet apple acres when a white pegasus stallion, clad in royal guard armor, landed on the dirt road right in front of her. “Scootaloo?” he asked.

“Cloud Wall? Wow, what happened to you?” Scootaloo responded while taking note of the cuts, bruises and bandages the stallion was now sporting under his armor.

“Plan B didn’t go so well. Time is of the essence, and you’re the only agent I know is available right now,” he said, with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“What about my dad? His team is special ops too,” Scootaloo suggested, honestly trying to be helpful, but not wanting to risk Sweetie Belle’s health by helping herself.

“What about him? I’ve been best friends with your father since we were foals and if it wasn’t for that joint operation in Las Pegasus I still wouldn’t have known we’ve both been special ops for years. Besides I tried his place first and no pony was home,” the captain said, rolling his eyes as he added the last line.

“Can’t you just get the rest of the royal guard to help you?”

“Not enough time, to fly to HQ on the hope that there might be a free team there, and the regular royal guard operates under Celestia’s rules of engagement. And I love the princess of the sun as much as the next guy but her rules of engagement are an act of suicide. So no, this has to be handled by special ops.” Cloud Wall punctuated the seriousness of his plea for help by kneeling before the filly.

Scootaloo looked about, eyes growing wide in near panic, she knew if Captain Cloud Wall was willing to plead to her, of all ponies, for help it had to be bad. And even if there was little risk of passersby on the dirt road to the apple farm, there was always the chance that Applejack or Big Macintosh might be working one of the fields beside the lonely road.

In the time she’d spent working for Cloud Wall, Scootaloo had noticed that his team always asked him two questions when they wanted more information from him, and always in the same order too. She paraphrased the first one, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

The captain raised a hoof to his chin and thought for a moment before answering. “Worst case scenario. The weapon works better than they think it will and deals massive damage to Canterlot despite my warring allowing time to raise a shield spell over the city. What remains of the royal guard would retaliate swiftly and the enemy forces would likely be wiped out in the resulting battle. It would be a mass casualty event. I’d estimate said casualties to be in the vicinity of a hundred thousand, most likely the bulk of those would be the citizens of Canterlot.” Despite his dire choice of words, the captain had spoke with a very matter-of-fact tone the whole time.

From what she’d observed when his regular team questioned him Scootaloo knew better than to be bothered by the tactician’s honest assessment of the worst possible outcome and followed up with the second question she knew was usually asked of him, “And the most likely case?”

“Most likely scenario is that they will see my warning to Canterlot as left it too hard a target and will likely turn the weapon on the most conveniently located soft target to make their point instead. Seeing as Ponyville fits that description I’d imagine they’d hit there. Likewise I’d guess the retaliation from the royal guard would swift and harsh, also considering that Ponyville has a lower population and isn’t on a mountainside, I’d guess the event would likely end with the town in ruins by sundown tomorrow and casualties in the vicinity of a thousand. And since I can’t see more than two to three hundred active combatants fighting in the streets most of those will like be the citizens of Ponyville.”

Scootaloo looked solemnly down at her white hoof and muttered, “So Sweetie Belle’s in danger no matter what I do…” The filly’s eyes turned to the apple farm behind her. But Apple Bloom doesn’t have to be. She thought. Please forgive me.