Cutie Mark Crusaders - Earning Your Keep

by DMDash71

Chapter 4

“Wait!” Sweetie Belle ran both forehooves over her own forehead and down her neck, and then shook herself vigorously, letting her pink and purple tresses fluff out again and fall where they would. “How’s it look now?”

Scootaloo tried a weak smile, and failed. “Um…about like last time.”

“Yeah…that’s what I guessed.” The little unicorn sighed. “Thanks for trying.”

Scootaloo had parked her scooter and wagon off to one side, trying to give her friend a few more precious minutes as they walked toward their destination. The two stood in front of the Carousel Boutique, the shop owned by Sweetie Belle’s older sister, its interior lights gleaming out into the darkened street where they had paused for a moment to try one last bit of damage control. The fillies had stopped and tried to clean off in the small pond that lay near the remains of their clubhouse, scrubbing the worst of the dirt off as rapidly as they could. The speedy trip back to town had left both of their manes windblown but at least mostly dry, but the resultant “styling” left a lot to be desired.

“You think she’s gonna be really mad?”

“At this? She’ll probably ground me for a hundred years or so.” Sweetie Belle sighed, staring at the shop door which loomed, waiting, in the shadow cast by the bay window beside it. “Don’t worry, she’ll get over it.” She looked back at her friend. “Hey, you wanna come in? We can all go have dinner together or something.”

Scootaloo shook her head. “Nah, I’m gonna go crash.”

“You almost did that on the way here.”

“Not really crash. I mean, take a nap or something. I’m kinda beat.”

Sweetie Belle looked at the pegasus filly for a moment in silence. “You sure?” she asked quietly. “It’s no problem, really. Rarity fusses a lot, but she won’t mind.”

“No, really, I gotta go. I have to get home and get rested up so we can head out early tomorrow like Applejack said.” Scootaloo offered her a broad grin. “Cutie Mark Crusader chore hunters!” She stuck out a forehoof.

The little unicorn clapped her own forehoof together with her friend, and met her gaze. “You sure?” she asked again, trying one last time.

“I’m cool, really. But thanks.” Scootaloo trotted over to where her scooter and wagon were parked, fishing her helmet out of the back and clapping it over her head. Her wind-frazzled mane and forelock stuck out at odd angles, giving the little pegasus a bedraggled appearance. “Catch ya later!”

“Seeya, Skater!” Sweetie Belle grinned.

“It’s a scooter, I told you-“ Scootaloo broke off and shot her a dirty look. “Ha-ha, very funny.” She pursed her lips and stuck out her tongue. “Pbbbbbbbbbbbt!” Kicking a hindhoof to set the scooter in motion, she turned and headed back down the dark road, her little wings beating rapidly as she accelerated. Passing under a streetlamp, her purple tail was a flick of color, visible for an instant as it fluttered in the wind, and then she buttonhooked around a corner and was out of sight.

Sweetie Belle stared after her for a moment, listening to the rapid fire squeaking of one of the wagon’s wheels as it faded into the night air. Emitting a long sigh, she turned, braced herself, and walked over to knock on the shop door. “Hey Rarity, it’s me.”

“’Me?’” came a voice from within, clearly relieved, and winding up to full fuss ahead. “Whomever could ‘me’ be? Could it be a little sister of mine who’s stayed out much longer than I told her to? Again?”

“Um…yes?”

“I’m glad we agree on something.” Rarity opened the door and froze, staring down at her sister in shock. “Good heavens, child, what happened to you?? Where have you been?”

Sweetie Belle undid the tie on the little pouch Applejack had given her and displayed the gleaming coins inside proudly. “Farming!”

The older unicorn’s jaw dropped for a moment, and then she bent down and peered at her sister with a gimlet eye. “Come on in here. I have to close up, and then we’re going to get cleaned up. Well, you are, at least.” She lifted a foreleg out of the way as Sweetie Belle picked up her money pouch and trotted inside. “This story, I have got to hear.”

---

Scootaloo leaned into the turn as she cut around the corner, the motion of her wings ceasing as they flicked out straight to either side for balance. She darted a glance to either side, but the street was fairly clear at this hour, with only a few pedestrians trotting along the storefronts that lined Ponyville’s business district. Coasting down to the end of the block, she turned right off of Main Street onto Apple Avenue and began flapping her wings again, picking up speed. The squeaking of the wagon’s wheel rose from a random staccato beat into a low whine, annoying, but bearable.

The stores gave way to open yards, the houses of the ponies that worked here in town or just liked to live near the nerve center of the district. A warm, yellow glow shone from the windows of each residence, shining out into the deepening dusk that slowly enfolded the land. Off to the east, over the trees in the distance, the moon peeked out to cast its own light over the scene. The silver light became brighter and more apparent as it rose, and the little pegasus filly sped down what seemed to be a silver river, the alternating pools of street lamps on either side becoming more and more rare until they fell behind entirely. The yards became wider and deeper, interspersed with open fields here and there of unkempt grass, the houses set further back from the road. She was out in the open country now; if she stuck to the road, she would eventually end up back at Sweet Apple Acres or one of the other farmsteads on the western side of town.

Scootaloo began coasting again, folding her wings to her sides to give them a rest for a moment. The curve of the road was gentle here, and it was a shallow downgrade as the land fell slowly toward the farms below. If you kept heading west, eventually the land would drop down into a boggy marsh that stretched for some distance in the valley beyond. Further, and the land began to rise again into a series of low foothills, with small communities dotted here and there. The little pegasus wished sometimes that she could go visit there and talk to the ponies that lived among the hills, but the roads that winded through the marsh were rough and tumble, and not very suited to travel, at least not via scooter and wagon. Someday, she mused, when they were older, she and her friends would go there and visit. They would look at the strange sights and laugh at the odd way the hill ponies spoke, and everypony there would exclaim in wonder and delight at the amazing cutie marks of the three visitors.

Up ahead, she spied the tree that marked the turnoff of the path she wanted. Scootaloo hunched down over the handlebars of her scooter, her eyes narrowing and a devil-may-care grin curling the corners of her mouth. She waited until the last second, and then cut sharply to the left, leaning into the turn, her wings flicking out and see-sawing as they helped her balance. She shot past the old pine tree, barely missing it by less than a body length, the wagon bumping and rattling sharply behind her.

“Eh, not bad.” She’d done better, but not while hauling an empty wagon along. It was a necessary evil, and she didn’t mind carrying her friends along for the ride, but without them, it was a major bummer. Ducking under an overhanging fern, she felt the wagon jump behind her as it struck the plant, the left rear wheel giving a sharp squall of protest. “Oops!” She cut around the last corner of the narrowing path and came to a hard stop in the clearing beyond, her wings tilting forward and flapping hard as she pushed the brakes on her handlebars. Dismounting from the scooter, the little pegasus removed her helmet and shook out her windblown mane. She carefully placed the helmet into the wagon, and then turned around and allowed herself to look at the scene before her.

The Crusaders’ clubhouse sagged forlornly in the crotch of the tree, the cool light of the still rising moon peeking through the storm-torn branches and making it look utterly abandoned, as if it had been sitting here for a hundred years. The basic framework was still intact, as well as the flooring, but three of the four walls had been torn to shreds, and half of the roof was gone. The little ramp leading up to where the door had formerly stood was askew but mostly intact, and Scootaloo took a moment to nudge it back into alignment before pacing carefully up the weathered planking.

The floor rapped hollowly under her hooves as she stepped inside and walked gingerly over the worn surface. The wood looked mostly dry now, and she made a careful circuit of the platform, testing her weight on each plank before moving on. It seemed sound enough, and the load that had been pressing down on her heart lightened a tiny bit. Given time – and hopefully, no more storms – she and her friends might just be able to do this after all. The clubhouse had been a gift from Applejack, a remembered treasure from her childhood, but if Scootaloo and her friends could fix the place up, it would really belong to them, then. It would be something they could call their very own, and the little pegasus had precious little in her life that she could lay that claim to at the moment.

Scootaloo exhaled softly and walked over to the one remaining wall. Curling her legs underneath her, she lay down, leaning against the woodwork as she tucked her tail around her. Her ears flickered back and forth as she listened to the swishing of the night wind and the soft creaking of the tree just outside. Yawning hugely, she squirmed for a moment and then settled down again, closing her eyes.

Overhead, the moon coasted slowly overhead along the path it had wandered since the dawn of days. The silver beam of the Eye of Luna gazed over all of the land, frosting the treetops and slipping between their waving branches to bathe the tiny form of the pegasus far below in a silver blanket of dreams. And if a shadow happened to pass over her sleeping form that night, it moved on, and left her in peace.

Comments

[Splatter8]

Stop making Scootaloo homeless. Other than that I love where the story is going.

[DMDash71]

149068
Fair enough, and I understand your complaint.

In my defense, part four is as "heavy" as I'm going to get. Kids take things seriously that adults don't waste much time mulling over, and I really am trying to come at this from their viewpoint. If you don't like my interpretation, I do apologize, and I hope it doesn't put you off from finishing the rest of the story.

And no, it's not horror, or anything to squick somebody out; I wouldn't do that to the CMC. There's plenty of fun stuff ahead, I swear.

[Rainbow Dash the Awesome]

149116

For now I've stopped following it but also favorited it so I can easily find it in the likely event that I change my mind. I do that a lot when I start having too many unread stories on my tracking list.