Our girl Scootaloo 1 of 3

by Cozy Mark IV

Ch 3: Not a Big Chicken

Our Girl Scootaloo

by Cozy Mark IV

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release

Chapter Three: Not a Big Chicken

We also received offers of help and support from people and organizations of all kinds, and Scootaloo got very good at shaking hands with her prosthetic. We happily accepted an offer from Mary’s hospital to provide free medical care in exchange for acting as the distributor of medical and genetic information, and Stephanie’s newly minted veterinary practice got the best publicity imaginable when she came forward as our daughter’s long-time doctor.

We also made it a point to locate a sympathetic city judge who declared Scootaloo to be a full person in the eyes of the law. There was a nice speech about not repeating the wrongs of the past, and he got a useful boost in his campaign numbers.

Our daughter’s most lasting memory from this time was probably her trips to see the professional prosthetic engineers who worked with her to design a set of two better stronger arms. She got the works, including prototype sensory feedback from the hands to electrode panels on the insides of her harness so she could feel pressure in the hands as a tingling in her sides. They also replaced my hack job control device with a much more sensitive purpose built ‘hat’ for more delicate motor control. They even designed a set of straps with bite cleats so she could take the arms on and off by herself. She adapted to the new prosthetics faster than we would have thought possible, and it all culminated in her beating both of us at a game of ‘horse’ at the basketball hoop in the backyard, which was followed by celebratory ice cream.

Scootaloo’s fourth birthday with us was a milestone for everyone. After the publicity nightmare subsided she was able to start exploring the neighborhood with us, making friends and just enjoying being outside in public during the day.

As summer began to wane we made arrangements for her to begin attending school for a few hours a day, and after the hubbub had passed, she enrolled for half days in the forth grade. Of course things did not always go smoothly, but the children were actually more accepting than some of the teachers. It took a few stern talks about fairness, equality, and the average amount of punitive damages awarded for violations of the Americans with Disabilities Act and/or the free and appropriate education laws, but we were able to establish a supportive school environment for our daughter while she continued her home-schooling in the afternoons.

We also took Scootaloo and some of her friends to the mall for first time. She was practically vibrating with excitement as she led our group into one store after another, asking, “Hey what’s that? What does this do?” and pausing every so often to proclaim: “This is so awesome!” We could hardly blame her – internet shopping only shows what you ask to see, so clothing stores, jewelry, garden stores, and even Walmart were full of new experiences. When the nice lady at the jewelry counter asked if she wanted her ears pierced Scootaloo was too excited to pay much attention, but Kevin and I exchanged concerned glances – what were our house rules on such things?

By the end of her fourth grade year she was spending the full day at school, and looking forward to summer vacation as much as the rest of her class. As the weather heated up she got her first trip to a pool and her first swimming lessons. She took to the water like a fish, but it was the diving board that she adored most.

“Hey guys, watch this!”

She managed three mid-air flips before face planting into the water halfway down the pool and coming up sputtering.

“Scoot, you can fly!” one of her friends yelled “That was awesome, do it again!”

With her friends cheering her on, and without the weight of her prosthetics, we all watched in amazement as she glided longer and longer distances before splashing down. She couldn’t quite fly no matter how hard she flapped her wings, but it was clear that wouldn’t last long.
We helped her towel off and took the group out for waffles and pancakes afterwards, and while the kids stuffed themselves with syrup and strawberries I pulled Kevin aside.

“I know we didn’t think Scootaloo would ever fly in our world, but it looks like we were wrong.”

He looked on as she mimed diving into the pool and the whole group laughed again. There were tears in his eyes as said “I didn’t think she could either, but I’m so proud of her!”

“I’m proud of her too,” I said, my own heart swelling at bit, “but we have to help her with this. We need to get her into pilot training.”

“Oh, but just look at her, why would she need-”

“Because they don’t have high voltage power lines in Equestria.” I intoned forcefully. I let that sink in; “or guide wires holding up cell phone towers, or gray glass buildings that disappear into the fog on a cloudy day. If she can fly we have to train her how to do so safely. The leading cause of death among young birds isn’t snakes or cats, its immovable objects.”

His face sank as the danger registered. “Its okay,” I said “Give me a few days to find a flight instructor willing to work with us. Seriously, what pilot wouldn’t want to teach a Pegasus to fly? And in the mean time she is already pretty good with the flight simulator you got her last year. We can do this.” I squeezed his hand reassuringly and he nodded.

Her first flight lesson came four days later. I told her to practice the flight simulator after dinner and her expression changed gradually she worked through;
‘they want me to play video games? Yay, video games! Wait, why that one, why the flight sim?’ I smiled and mimed airplane wings and engine noise.

Her eyes lit up and she almost hovered for a moment “You guys got me flying lessons?! You are so awesome!”

...

Her instructor met her at the runway the next morning and asked her to tell him what all the controls in the old Cessna were for. She ran though all the instruments, the engine controls, petals, yoke, nearly all the important items as he smiled and had her strap into the left seat. I looked at Kevin and he gave me that grin of his; “What? She’s a smart kid and Microsoft makes a good flight simulator.”

They spent some time orbiting the airport before flying off to work on navigation skill. We stood arm in arm watching the plane dwindle into the distance when Kevin ask

“Jayne? Do most parents have to worry about flying skills of their fifth graders?”

“Only the very lucky ones.”

Her fifth birthday party came with aircraft rides for the other kids, and a tablet computer to display flight and GPS maps. She had learned to read the flight maps and know what the highest obstacle within a given area was, and hence how high she had to be to stay safe.
She had also expressed some concern about being the school’s only nudist, and Kevin was only too happy to teach her how to sew. His birthday present to her was a sturdy second-hand sewing machine of her very own, a set of aviator goggles, and a gift card to the local fabric store.

On one and a half incomes we wouldn’t normally have been able to afford the flying lessons and rides, but the airport manager had agreed to shoot a few commercials with Scootaloo, and it worked out as a win for everyone.

And it was on her birthday that she revealed she could fly! She disappeared from the party just before the cake was to be cut, and we found her arms lying under one of the folding tables. We were just starting to worry when she came sailing down the runway on her own two wings and stumbled to a landing in front of Kevin and I.

“Ta-da! I finally got it right two days ago, but I wanted to surprise you Dad!” Beaming
we scooped her up, hugged her and told her how proud we were.

The sixth grade was off to a good start when it happened. It was a cool fall evening and the fog was rolling in when Scootaloo shed her prosthetic, pulled on her goggles, and flew off to a friends house to hang out for a few hours. When she took off to come home hours later she should have realized something wasn’t right, but she didn’t have her tablet, and so forgot to check the weather. As she flew home the fog obscured the ground and the sun sunk below the horizon turning the sky gray. When she got to about the spot she normally landed from she looked down to see nothing but fog and clouds.

“Oh crap, where is it…” She looked around in all directions, but the clouds had covered everything. Darkening sky overhead and a chill wind made her shiver, as she looked down into the featureless mass below that spread out as far as she could see in all directions like a dull gray sea.

“Dam, better get out my… Dam!” She’d left her heavy arms at home, along with her tablet. Without it she had no map to tell her where she was, or how high she was, not that she could use it without her arms anyway.

“Stupid stupid stupid! This is exactly what they told us never to do in flight school…” She shivered as the wind picked up and looked down into the gray mass below, rapidly disappearing altogether as the light faded.

“I’ve got to get down. I’ll just land and call Papa for help, he can come get me…” She flapped slower and gradually sunk beneath the surface of the clouds.
Her world became fog. Nothing to see but fog in every direction… “You got this Scoo, just keep cool and come down slow. Its not like you can miss the ground.” She tried to keep her wing beats even and steady, but she seemed to be picking up speed. “Too fast, too fast!” She beat her wings harder, but the wind just whistled by faster. “Crap! I must be pointing down! But which way is up!?” She pulled in the direction she thought was up and the wind slowed somewhat. Working franticly she concentrated on bringing the wind noise to a stop and eventually succeeded. Panting and shaking, she looked around her sphere of fog “Ok, ok, no wind, so I’m not moving. I’m safe. I just need to come down slowly so I don”
WOOSH!!
A dull steel cable an inch in diameter wiped past a foot from her face. “Shit!” She lunged away, at least she hoped it was away, from the cable and spent the next few minutes trying to still her heart and body. “I’m not moving compared to the cloud, but the cloud is moving along the ground! And I’m getting tired, I can’t keep this up forever…” She shivered again at the cold wind and the terror she felt. It was just stupid fog, but it almost killed her once and she still needed to get down…

Around eight Kevin called her friends house to see when they were driving her home. “You aren’t driving her? … She said she was going to fly home?” A quick glance out the window at the dense fog sent a chill down his spine. “In this weather?! … Half an hour ago! Its IFR, she can’t fly in this!… No, IFR, Istrument Flight Rules, it means- Never Mind! Just call us if she comes back to you, she could be in real danger!”

I looked down to see the newspaper I had been reading crumpled and torn in my clenched hands. “You check the computer, see how deep the clouds are tonight. I’ll call the police, make sure they’re looking for her.”

“But shouldn’t we put out a light or something?”

I though for a moment “It takes her about 15 minutes to fly from her friends house to home. She’s been gone at least half an hour. 15 minutes flight time could put her miles and miles from here, and she hasn’t called either. If she could get to the ground she’d call, but if she hasn’t called, she can’t see the street lights on the ground, or…” the syllable hung in the air.

Scootaloo felt she was running on fumes. She knew she was sinking now whether she wanted to or not and she continue craning her neck, looking for something in her sphere of fog that looked solid, but in the gathering darkness that was rapidly becoming impossible. “I have to get down! Its almost completely dark and I have to rest!” Squeezing her eyes shut she let her wings go slack, and as the wind speed picked up she used a wing beat here and there to keep her speed reasonable.

SMASH! “OW!”

She spun as she hit and felt herself hurdling through tall grass, where she eventually rolled to a stop, bruised and hurting, in a mud puddle. She lay still for a few minutes trying to catch her breath before she struggled to her feet. “Ow!” She winced as she looked at her right wing which was bent in a direction it was not supposed to bend. Around her was grass over her head as far as she could see… no, not grass, wheat. “I must have landed in a farmers field…”
She took a step and winced at the pain shooting through her wing as tears formed in her eyes. “Ok Scoot, you can do this. Just have to walk until you find a road and follow it to a person with a phone.”

She folded her wing at her side as best she could, nearly passing out from the pain, and set off through the muddy field in search of help. Time passed and she still walked through the wheat. Her wing hurt more than she had ever hurt before, but even so she was exhausted from her flight and had to concentrate just to keep walking. More time passed and she eventually found the edge of the wheat field…and the edge of the adjacent oat field. She followed the boarder between the crops for half a mile, then a mile. Finally it led to a dirt path, and her pace picked up as she turned left and followed the path, but after ten minutes it stopped at a rusty old plow.

“Oh, why did it have to be the wrong direction?”

She turned and went back the way she came, and this time after half an hour more walking she could see a cluster of lights up ahead though the fog. Soon a barn and some animal sheds came into focus, and as she rounded a corner she almost walked into it.

Hanging from the side of building was a deer, or what remained of one. It was cut down the middle with the entrails in a bucket on the ground, the head hanging limply to one side, eyes glassy and sightless.

She leapt back hair standing on end as she looked up at it. She wasn’t stupid, she knew were meat came from even though she couldn’t eat any herself. Still, running into a hunters kill on a dark and foggy night wasn’t helping her nerves, and her heart was racing a mile a minute. Footsteps sounded in the distance, getting closer.

“Okay, lets try going… somewhere else. Quickly!”

She scurried away from the footsteps and on toward the light, and hopefully, the road. As she passed the house she heard a car coming down the road, and she ducked behind a dripping rain barrel as a pickup truck crunched to a stop in the gravel by the front door. The door opened and a girl, maybe 16, got out and said goodnight to the pimply teenage driver who backed the truck up and was soon disappearing into the night. Scootaloo was about to speak up when the light suddenly shone from the windows and the front door flew open with a bang.

“Just where do you think your going missy? Do you know what time it is?!”

The angry tirade poured forth, until the girl started shouting back that she didn’t understand, that she never let her do anything fun! She ran off sobbing as her mother shouted after her to get back here right now!

A man walked into view from the direction Scootaloo had come wearing hunters camouflage with a rifle over one shoulder and a concerned look on his face. The girls mother looked at him until he asked “Out past curfew agaain?”

“Yes, again! I don’t know what to do with that girl!” There was a pause as he walked up to her and took her hand. Her shoulders slumped and started to shake. He leaned the rifle against the wall and took her in his arms as she broke down sobbing. “Oh Gerald, I’m so worried about her!”

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

They both looked up, startled.

“I’m lost and need help, but when I saw the deer I thought you might shoot me too.” Scootaloo sniffed. “You just showed me you are good people who care, but I didn’t see that until after your daughter left.”

They walked around the rain barrel to stare at the bright orange foal shivering before them. Scrapes and bruises covered her body, her feet were caked with mud and her wing was twisted and matted with dried blood.

“Why did you yell at her like that?” she asked looking up at them.

Jerald was the first to get over the shock “You poor thing! Look atcha, you’re a mess! Lets get you inside where its’ warm. How did you get way out here all by yourself?”

That was the longest night of our lives. It was 1:12 AM when the phone rang. It was Scootaloo, she was hurt but alive, at a farm twenty miles outside of town. We broke every speed limit in the district getting out there, and when we arrived we found mother, daughter and husband all working together to care of our child. They had cleaned her off, bandaged her cuts, and most surprisingly, ‘Gerald’ had set the bone of her wing and wrapped it against her body.

“Twas no trouble” he replied when we asked “No different from setting the wing on a big rooster.” When we continued to stare he added “What? A good rooster is valuable; ya don’t go eaten em lest you have to.”

Scootaloo sulked at this, muttering “Am not a big chicken…”

Author's Note:

Author's Note: If you're interested in learning more about general aviation, or in learning to fly yourself, the Aircraft Owners' and Pilots' Association, or AOPA, is a wonderful resource for beginners, human and pony alike. It's a wonderful way to travel, and can be done much less expensively than most people realize.

Comments

[Luna Aeterna Solutae]

Microsoft does make a rather fine flight simulator. I was the only one who dicked around with it at school that could get off the ground and land safely though.

[Luminous Grace]

How exactly are these prosthetics supposed to be attached to her?