Well, At Least Time Flies

by shortskirtsandexplosions

January 22 -185 3:15pm

POW!

—and Scootaloo rematerialized in free-fall, sailing towards a field of snow lingering a comfortable twenty feet below her.

"Hnnnttt!" She tensed her body up, angling the sled at the last second to match a hilly mound of snow.

Fwooooosh!

Miraculously, she landed evenly with the snowbank's angled slope. The time sled's burning blades ripped into the thick precipitation, but somehow found traction. She glided away from the snowbank, sliding swiftly across an ivory white field of frost.

At long last, after half-a-minute of frictionless momentum, she and the sleigh grinded to a merciful stop. She sat there, clinging limply to the handles and hyperventilating.

Sweat stained her coat through her orange jacket. Her crystal pendant had spun around her neck three times. The backpack had miraculously caught around her rear fetlocks by its straps, nearly vomiting its contents loose from the pockets.

Panting and panting... Scootaloo shivered in the gentle snowfall. She looked over each shoulder, studying the bleak landscape through twitching eyes.

An overcast sky hung over the identically gray landscape. Barren, near-dead trees lingered in rows, utterly blanketed in snow and icicles. Mountains rose in the distance, scraping at the eggshell heavens. It was the middle of the day, grim, miserable, and seemingly lifeless.

Scootaloo never felt happier.

"Hehhh... hah...!" Scootaloo smiled crooked and crooked-er. "Haaaah hah! Hahahahahaha!" With a mad grin, she flashed a look towards the numerical counter of the sled beneath her.

January 22, -185. 3:15pm.

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah ha ha ha ha ha!" She jumped high and did a literal backflip, landing on the sled with a fist pump aimed skyward. "Woooo! What a rush!"

The fact that the year's date read in the negative didn't faze her. She looked at a series of snowbanks rising up out of the flat field around her and thought:

"Sweet!"

Fwoooosh! Scootaloo kicked against the earth. She glided like an albatross across the field, hit one of the mounds, and ramped wildly over it, achieving a modicum of the same air that chaotically brought her there.

"Woooohoooo!"

She landed with a spray of snow, shredded with a flicker of purple light, and buzzed her wings—gliding the time machine towards yet another victorious ramp.

"Aaaaaaaaaaand—" She hit the bump, then angled her wings to get some aerial traction. "—touchdowwwwwwwwwn! Hahahaha!" She landed with another frosted splash. "Woooo!" Bursting through the debris, she made for the next lingering hill of snow.

For the next few minutes, Scootaloo proceeded with the impromptu stunt show, hitting ramps and gliding her way through the air in bright orange streaks. Her laughter and cheer echoed in every direction, shaking the frost from tree branches. The filly licked at the falling snow, shivered, giggled, and shivered some more.

She should have been dead.

Maybe she was dead.

Scootaloo didn't care. She hit another ramp and spun herself and the sled in a three-sixty twirl this time.

"Woohooo!" She came down thunderously, tossing snow and powder in all directions. "I. Am. Awesome—!" Her rolling eyes caught a glint of serrated metal. "Whoah!" She skidded to a stop, then looked up with wide eyes. Panting.

A line of soldiers loomed above the filly, grasping spears and clad in thick breastplates with matching helmets. Three adult equines stood dead-still in the snow, peering darkly through their visors with obscured eyes. Not one said a word. Not a single tail flicked.

"... ... ..." Scootaloo gulped, gripping the handles of her sled tightly to avoid trembling. "Uhm... I was just... uhm..."

The soldiers continued staring at her. One tilted his head aside, taking a good look at Scootaloo... at what she was wearing... at the bright colors of her getup.

Scootaloo was biting her lip hard at this point. The sheer fact that none of these armored equines had gutted her by now was somehow more alarming than an actual ambush. The air was so silent and still that she could hear icicles crackling from half-a-mile across the wintry landscape.

Her eyes fell to the counter beneath her once again. The year read: -185. The gravity of this strange, random number finally fell on Scootaloo's shoulders with lucid weight.

Careful not to make any sudden, dramatic movements, Scootaloo braved a glance behind her. What she saw made her heart sink.

The mounds of snow—the sporadic hilltops that Scootaloo had so brazenly chosen to ramp her sled repeatedly over—turned out to actually be dormant catapults and ballistas. Loose wooden weapons of war had been frosted over from countless blizzards taking their toll on the navel of Equestria.

She had just used it as a playground.

"Uhhhhh... huh..." Scootaloo exhaled. She turned to face the soldiers once again.

They still hadn't moved. The phalanx continued peering at her, quiet as death and just as deadpan.

Swallowing a lump down her throat, Scootaloo stealthily plucked the plug free from the top of the sled's silver brace. She stepped gently off the craft, hoping that the placement of her tiny limbs would obscure the light dimming in the crystalline cylinders. Pocketing the plug in her orange jacket, Scootaloo smiled gently then curtsied before the stray phalanx of armored equines.

"Uhhhh... h-hi there! My name's Scootaloo!" She stood tall. Brave. Still trembling. "What're your names?"

"... ... ..."

"... ... ..."

"... ... ..."

Scootaloo's amber eyes reflected the three stone-faces. "I... uh... I'm not trespassing, am I?" A nervous gulp. "Have fences even been invented yet?"

"... ... ..."

"That's some pretty nifty armor. Did you make it yourself?"

"... ... ..."

"You guys enjoy the smell of your own farts?"

"... ... ..."

Scootaloo blanched. "You don't... understand a word that I'm saying, do you?"

The soldier in the center suddenly shifted in place. Schiiiiiiing!

Scootaloo curled up into a little orange ball, covering her head. "Nnnnnghhh!"

But the armored equine had merely sheathed his spear. With liquid grace, he reached up and removed his helmet. A dirtied coat graced the gray skylight, along with a thick unkempt beard. Weary eyes—one obscured by a scar—squinted silently down at the filly.

The other two soldiers—a stallion and a mare—likewise removed their helmets to get a better look at the little pegasus. Each of them bore scrapes and scars from untold years of battle. But that wasn't the only common thing between then; each bore a notched horn in the center of their foreheads. They were all unicorns.

"Hrmmmm..." The second stallion—younger and shaved—cocked his exposed head to the side. Dreadlocks with metallic ringlets flounced behind his neck. "Fela'nulm dressel." He nodded in the direction of Scootaloo while speaking aside to his companions. "Massul hala kemniel fenella druus."

"Vaas..." The mare nodded. "Fenella draasa. Mass'em halemn sella theem."

The bearded stallion's deep voice reverberated. "Haas'tem. Sakka theenul."

The others chuckled breathily at what he said. All three bore scarred smiles.

Scootaloo's ears twitched at the first sign of emotion from the group. On jittery legs, she stood up. "That... uh..." Her brow furrowed. "...is that Old Ponish?"

The bearded stallion's face scrunched. "Venalla sep'lem caan..." His muzzle contorted. "'Ol'ed Ponillish'?"

"Y'know...!" Scootaloo smiled. "Old Ponish!" She gestured. "The language that ponies spoke... uhm..." She fidgeted in place. "Waaaaaaay before Equestrian Basic was adopted by... the modern population... ... ... phweee... ... ..."

The soldiers exchanged glances. They blinked in utter confusion.

Scootaloo tapped her chin. She opened her muzzle to try saying something else—

"Havalla sem'niel..." She heard from behind. She looked around to see that the younger stallion had trotted past her on silent cat hooves and was poking the time-sled with a curved dagger. "Venka!" Clink clink! "Hrmmm... sevalla caamen sem'thaan!"

"Whoah!" Scootaloo scampered towards him. "Hooves off the—"

Schiiiing! The stallion held the dagger up reflexively.

Scootaloo skidded to a stop, flinching with outstretched wings. "—m-merchandise!" She squeaked. "Hey... d-demo it all you w-want, buddy!" A nervous grin. "Eheheheh..."

"Duaaaaaaah...!" The female soldier suddenly gasped in awe. Scootaloo heard her hoofsteps crunching closer in the snow, and suddenly there was a warm breath cascading over her neck and flank. "Sem'jen! Salla'gan! Haas'tem!" Scootaloo felt the mare's hooves brushing repeatedly over her wingfeathers. "Mee'null sellellathriel saam'na jeem!"

The other two soldiers performed wild double-takes. The younger stallion ditched the sled completely while the bearded warrior paced about the tiny pegasus.

"Galem'nass salathran..." The older stallion's deep voice resonated. He studied Scootaloo through thin, scrutinous eyes. "Hrmmmm... Jeemnulien saapjaan...?"

The mare shook her head, continuing to fiddle with Scootaloo's feathers. "Jeemnulien sa'mna hasalmnen! Haas'stem..." She pulled at the wingspan, inadvertently plucking a single feather loose. Plink!

"Oww!" Scootaloo habitually yelped.

All three soldiers hopped back. The mare stammered, "Dreem dreem!"

"Uhhhhh..." Scootaloo flexed her wings, smiling nervously. "No big deal. I... uh... forgive you..."

The mare blinked, armor rattling a bit. The other two unicorns gazed at her, then laughed bombastically. She pouted, nevertheless floating the orange feather in a telekinetic grasp, studying it up and down.

The soldiers continued speaking to one another in their flowery language. All eyes were locked on Scootaloo the whole time, and the tone in their voices bordered on pure wonder.

Scootaloo cocked her head to the side. She exhaled vaporously in the cold air, contemplating the situation. "You..." Her eyes narrowed. "...youuuuuu guys have never seen a pegasus before, have ya?"

The trio of armored ponies locked up.

"Y'know..." Scootaloo flapped her wings. "Pegasus!" She pointed at her wings, then at her chest. "I'm a pegasus!"

The two younger soldiers looked at the bearded stallion. The veteran's muzzle contorted yet again to pronounce: "'Peegasallus..?'"

Scootaloo giggled. "Stop trying to make it sound pretty! It's just pegasus. Peg-a-sus"

"'Pe... Peeguul...'"

The mare suddenly blurted: "'Pegasus.'"

The other two hissed at her and she snarled back.

"Hahahahaha!" Scootaloo giggled, hugging herself in the snow. "Omigosh! You guys are like when Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and I have an argument!"

The mare's horn sparked. "'Aap'leem Baallumen!'"

"Yeah, no..." Scootaloo shook her head, smirking. "Don't even try—"

A high pitched banshee shriek lit the air.

Scootaloo gasped. Her pupils shrunk to penpricks as she squatted low in the snow. "Holycrap!Holycrap!Holycrap!Holycrap!" She trembled so hard that tufts of frost flew up all around her. "What was that?!"

"Achassa!" the bearded stallion snarled, slapping his helmet back on in a blink. Schiiiiiing! He brandished his spear sky-high as his horn glowed from beneath the headpiece. "Ha'lassem wind'ellageh havala'sem!"

Sch-Schiiiing! The other two held their weapons out, forming a tight defensive circle as they cautiously scanned the horizon.

"Mmmmmm...!" Scootaloo stifled a whimper, looking past the mounds of snow-covered weaponry. She felt several degrees colder, and her heart was beating a mile-per-minute. "What is it?! I can't even see anything—"

More banshee shrieks. The screaming sounds had multiplied. This time, Scootaloo sensed that they were coming from the west. The clouds turned darker, and the temperature dropped even more than it had before. Frost formed on her eyelashes, and it was getting hard to see.

"Ah jeez! Ah jeez, what was—?!" Scootaloo gasped as she felt a familiar tingling sensation: her body was being encased in telekinesis. "Aaack!"

The soldiers had magically picked her up and were galloping towards the nearest structure—a frozen catapult in the middle of the field. They moved remarkably quick for unicorns... and even quicker for unicorns clad in clunky ancient armor. The younger stallion used his staff like a club and knocked away several icicles, exposing a hollow niche within which the four could huddle beneath the catapult.

"Wait!" Scootaloo's voice cracked. She flailed upside down in their magic field as she felt herself being tugged towards the hiding spot. "My sled—"

To her surprise, the unicorns were tugging it along as well. Scootaloo watched—upside down—as the time machine was yanked out of the open field and shoved unceremoniously beneath the catapult alongside the group's huddled bodies. Simultaneously—and with remarkable skill—the unicorns' telekinesis smoothed the snow field behind them to an immaculate sheen. Even in modern day, Scootaloo never saw the unicorns of Ponyville exercising such finesse. Winter Wrap-Up would have been a cinch with such talent. Sure enough, within seconds, all hoofprints and sleigh tracks and any other remote signature of living ponies had been erased from the pale, snow-frosted field.

"How..." Scootaloo shivered, huddling close to the three soldiers. "How did you just—?"

"Shhhhhh!" one soldier hissed.

That, Scootaloo understood, and the little filly clammed up. The body heat from her inexplicable saviors was the only thing keeping her from outright freezing. She huddled silently beside them, staring out as a dark gray curtain swam malevolently from the western horizon and rippled directly overhead.

Icicles materialized spontaneously from the edges of the catapult. The top of the field turned to ice. The air howled... crackling with frosted energy.

Then...

An ear-piecing howl rippled across the landscape. Remaining icicles along the fringes of the catapult shook, wobbled, and shattered before they could even touch the ground. Scootaloo's vision faded in and out with each scream, and she was scarcely aware of thick dark shadows streaking over the pale white field. Bodies were roaring overhead, and cloudstreams of snow ripped through the overcast sky in the shape of ethereal horses. Spidery forelimbs "galloped" and raked at the blizzard-stricken air, and Scootaloo saw pinprick eyes of ghostly-white luminescence peeking out from the figures' undulating equine skulls high above.

The filly's heart shook, and she was afraid she might start sobbing outright and give away their position. Shivering, she clung to the closest body she could, burying her face against a metal breastplate. Withing seconds, a tender hoof was stroking her mane, accompanied by the soldier mare's warm, comforting voice: "Thaas thass. Sem'dalla meniel vella freem, Pegasus."

"Hrmmmm..." The elder grunted, casually staring up at the pallid poltergeist rupturing through the sky. "Wind'ellageh seemn'uusan halla vansem menathaan."

"Kelm," the younger stallion nodded with a smirk. "Ha'klamma semgorun ulla kammen. Theym hukk!"

All three laughed merrily as they waited out the ghostly storm.

Scootaloo's trembles lessened upon hearing how fearless the group was. She stole a peek at the outside world. To her surprise, entire new hills of snow had formed directly beneath the mid-air stampede of the shrieking banshees.

A minute passed.

Two.

At long last, the screaming sounds dissipated. The swirling blizzard ended as swiftly as it began. The sky—although not clearing up completely—brightened to a noticeable degree. Soon, everything had returned to a digestible gray calm.

Scootaloo bit her lip, still cowering in the mare's embrace.

The elder soldier gazed out, squinting into the snowy world.

The younger stallion craned his neck. "Valn wind'ellageh thremmin?"

A shuddering breath later, the elder nodded. "Kelm." He gestured with his armored fetlock. "Hamman salla'threem menuul sum."

Scootaloo felt a magical tug as all three soldiers exited from underneath the catapult. Free from their hiding place, they looked around and surveyed a fresh topographical nightmare of snow ridges and sporadically jutting icicles. Scootaloo's jaw dropped in wonder as she observed the suddenly inhospitable frostscape.

"Were..." Scootaloo gulped, fidgeting in the gray malaise of the perpetual winter. "...were those Windigoes?"

She received no answer. The elder soldier pulled from deep within his breasplate, produced a leather flask, and took a hearty sip. "Mrmmmmfff..." After drinking, he wiped his beard cleaned, stifled a burp, and threw a hoof towards the north. "Vaaka."

"Kelm, Sem'jen."

"Vaak'um seenulem."

All three soldiers began a swift march in the direction commanded. Scootaloo felt herself being nudged along as the militant unicorns grunted at her.

"Whoah! Hey! Uhm... eheheh..." She smiled cheekishly. "...as much as I would love to stay and chat as a 'thank you' for saving my life, I really really really really gotta be going now. Sooooooooo... if you don't mind just letting me back on my sledddddd!" She yelped as she was telekinetically lifted up and plopped squarely on the back of the armored mare. The magical grip on her was firm, and she realized that any attempt to hop off her new "seat" would be less than ideal. "Okay." She gulped. "Uhhhhhh..." She looked back behind them.

The younger stallion was dragging her sled along with them in a telekinetic field. The soldiers had no intent of losing the spoils of their patrol—be it feathery or made of modern metal.

"Uh huh..." Scootaloo bit her lip as the situation slipped further and further from her fetlocks. She trembled noticeably.

"Haa'vanaal..." The mare smiled up at her, giving a friendly wink from beneath her helmet. "Sem'nassa claanu threm, Pegasus!"

"Yeah..." Scootaloo stifled a cough. She looked nervously at the northern treeline as the group carried her away. "...I guess I am, sister."

The time traveler had no clue what lay in wait over the nearest horizon. But one thing was for certain... she wasn't about to hop back on her sled anytime soon...

Comments

[FloydienSlip]

I'm getting flashbacks to Xona.

[ScopeGuardPony]

8563722

Or the Snow Bloods.

[KMCA]

8563722
Dreit

[Redante]

8563891

8563722
Ancient Xona Blood Equestrians, then?

[Lurks-no-More]

Well, now you're really in it, Scoots. Good to see that the ancient unicorns, while suspicious, aren't inherently hostile to time-traveling pegasus fillies or anything!

[FanOfMostEverything]

Fascinating stuff. Definitely looking forward to the further adventures of the Time Chicken.

[pahnazd]

I'm late to the party, but this is quite the adventure so far!

[Revan]

This needs to be continued.

[PiMan]

I'd love to know the translations of what they're saying.

[OmnipresentMicroorganism]

Scootaloo is becoming either a god, or a sacrifice. Possibly even both.

[Gavier]

So...

this story looks discontinued.

[PiMan]

Any intent to continue this one?