Twilight in the Pit

“Rrrghgghghgghgrrrhrhhgghgghh!!!”

Scootaloo forced as much energy as she could into her useless wings, but, as ever, was only able to raise herself a few inches off the ground, hovering absurdly in the air like the world's largest hummingbird. Spike, as ever, found this hilarious.

“How many times are you going to try that?” he asked with a smirk.

Scootaloo shot him an icy glare and said nothing. Spike smirked again. He glanced up at the sky. The soft purple glow of twilight was beginning to descend upon the Forbidden Jungle, and a soft cacophony of buzzing and humming emanated from all around them as the nocturnal creatures that made their home here began to stir. The oppressive heat and humidity of the long day was slowly being dissipated by a cool evening breeze. Under different circumstances, it would be a pleasant scene.

Scootaloo abandoned her latest attempt at flight and snorted, glaring around her at the earthen walls of the pit. She pawed tentatively at one side with a hoof, testing the durability of the side. Clumps of soft mud detached themselves and landed on the ground with a soft plop.

“Almost completely vertical,” she said. “There's no way we can climb out of here.” She glanced at Spike. “Well, I can't at least. You might be able to.”

Spike shrugged, looking down at his claws. The thick, bulging muscles he'd gained since entering adolescence had added quite a bit of bulk to his body; he doubted the soft crumbling earth would support his weight.

“Ten years ago I probably could have,” he admitted. “But I don't think I'd make it now.”

It was Scootaloo's turn to smirk.

“Too bad you can't fly either,” she said, grinning, but immediately regretted her remark when she noticed the pained expression that passed across Spike's face for a moment. He glanced involuntarily over his shoulder at the ruined stumps on his back.

“Sorry,” she said, and she meant it.

Spike grunted but said nothing.

Several seconds of awkward silence followed, which were thankfully broken by the sound of Scootaloo's belly rumbling. Spike noticed, and Scoot grinned sheepishly.

“I missed lunch,” she admitted.

Spike shot her a wry smile.

“You know,” he said, “Situations like this have been known to end with cannibalism.”

“It's only been a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, but I missed lunch too.”

There was a rather longish pause.

“We're vegetarians.”

“I'm not.”

Scootaloo's deformed wings buzzed for a second, and she rose into the air a couple of inches again.

“Just try it,” she said, but she had a smirk on her face. Spike shot her a mischievous grin and licked his chops, and for a while neither of them said anything. Above them, the dark canopy of the sky was slowly fading from purple to black, and the shining points of the stars were poking out more confidently. Crickets and cicadas buzzed pleasantly above them. However, the distant growl of some kind of jungle cat reminded them that their fate was still far from decided.

Scootaloo felt an insect land on her flank, and she glanced down, brushing it away with an irritated flick of her tail. She stared mournfully for a second at her cutie mark, caked in mud and faded from years spent wandering under the harsh glow of the open sun. So much had happened in the years since she'd gotten it that she'd almost forgotten what it meant, but the sight of it always made the memories come flooding back. Memories of a simpler, happier time; the friends she'd had as a foal, that silly scooter she used to ride around on. The ridiculous hopes and dreams that everypony had had back then.

Remembering her foalhood friends always sent a short stab of unbearable sadness into her heart. Princess Twilight's ambitious plan for the grand unification of the lands beyond Equestria had gone so wrong, so terribly, terribly wrong, and so much had changed about the world since then. The last time she'd spoken to Sweetie Belle had been the day she'd gone off to Baltimare with her sister. And Apple Bloom...

...poor Apple Bloom.

Nearby, Spike cleared his throat, and she glanced over at him. He was staring up into the sky, a contemplative look on his face. She felt another stab of pain in her heart. She really shouldn't have made that crack about his wings. She knew he missed Princess Twilight terribly. He'd done everything he could.

“You think she's gone far?”

Scootaloo blinked in confusion for a second, her mind still focused on the past. For a brief instant it sounded as if he were talking about Twilight, but then she realized that he probably meant Zecora. She glanced up at the darkening sky, following his gaze.

“She's probably long gone,” Scoot said after a moment. “She was smart enough to lay this trap for us, smart enough to lure us in here. I'm sure she had an escape route planned too.”

Spike grunted in agreement.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. He paused, staring up at the stars. “It's too bad, though. That bounty would have been big enough for us to retire.”

Scootaloo grinned.

“Stop talking like we're calling it quits. The bounty stands until somepony catches her, and who else besides us could possibly pull that off?”

“Heh,” Spike chuckled. “Yeah, you're right. We'll get her.”

In the distance, the jungle cat snarled again, followed by the anguished wail of some unidentified creature. The cat must have managed to nab its dinner. Spike kicked at a pebble on the ground.

“You know Chancellor Starlight's probably going to cheat us again, though. She always finds some reason to pay out less than what she advertises.”

“Yeah, that cheapo.”

Scootaloo grunted, kicking at the same pebble as it rolled over to where she stood. She grunted. Chancellor Starlight. She'd been Princess Twilight's old protege, eons ago. Now there was a redemption that never should have happened.

She flashed a wry smile at Spike.

“If you want to call it quits, I'll understand,” she said.

She glanced over to see if her taunt had landed. Spike flashed her a big, mean, toothy grin, his pearlescent teeth shining like ivory daggers in the faded light. That dragon could look downright menacing when he wanted to.

“No way,” he said.

Scoot grinned back at him. The pebble had rolled back to where she stood, and she lifted her front hoof and aimed a well-practiced stabbing kick that sent it rocketing off. It buried itself about halfway up the wall of the pit, causing a small cloud of dust to rain down upon the floor below it. In one of the trees above them, a bird flapped its wings and flew off into the night, cawing angrily behind it.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, staring up at the inky sky. A thick crescent sliver of a waxing moon had risen above them, casting a soft pale glow down to the bottom.

“Hey Scoot?”

Scootaloo glanced over at Spike.

“Yeah?”

“You ever wonder who raises the moon these days?”

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