> Fool's Gold > by Sleepy Panda > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Chapter One: Treasure Hunt > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part 1: Pebbles ********* Little orange and purple pebbles were set out underneath the pine tree, arranged in the shape of a certain pegasus, and Scootaloo had no idea how the heck they got there or why they were in her front yard. She poked with a hoof at some orange pebbles forming the shape of an ear. Things like this didn’t just appear randomly. Nature did some pretty freaky things sometimes, but making pebble artwork of little fillies was just not one of those things. Somepony had deliberately taken the time to set this up. But who, and why? It seemed too weird to be the work of Sweetie Belle or Apple Bloom. Her parents hadn’t been by the house in two weeks, the foalsitter just slept on the couch all the time and probably didn’t even know her name, and it just wasn’t Rainbow Dash’s style. It was pretty cool-looking, anyhow. It was intricate enough that there was no doubting who it was a picture of, yet somehow also simple and cartoon-y. It wasn’t really the sort of thing Scootaloo would normally care for, but even she had to admit it was pretty neat, though she seriously had no idea how they got there. Scootaloo shrugged and hopped back onto her scooter, kicking off into the street. The pebbles slipped from her mind and she didn’t think about them again until she got home later that night, but by then she was too tired to care much and crawled into bed. She had a fleeting desire to run to her parents and tell them all about today, but then she remembered that they weren’t home. She gripped her pillow tightly and tried not to think about how things were a few years ago, when they still lived in Cloudsdale and they’d all sit down in the living room every evening after dinner, telling Scootaloo about funny things happening at work and then chasing her around and attacking her with tickles... ******** The next day, Scootaloo went outside first thing in the morning to see if the pebbles were still there or if she had just imagined it all. Her dreams had been full of swirling coloured stones and magical adventures, and though they had already started to slip from her mind, they’d refreshed her memories of yesterday morning. Excited, she dashed out the front door and bounded over to where she had been yesterday. She looked at the ground, and her jaw dropped. The design was gone. There was a new one in its place, though. In alternating colours, the orange and purple pebbles now spelled out S-C-O-O-T-A-L-O-O. Her name. Scootaloo froze up, her wings tensed. She looked around, suddenly feeling overly conscious about how visible her front yard was to anypony who happened to be looking out of the window of a neighboring houses. “Where are you hiding?” she murmured to herself, squinting her eyes in an accusatory glare as she scanned the deserted yard and the length of her street. Nothing suspicious, just the next door neighbor’s tiny foals playing on the front porch. They were way too young to do anything like this. Yet nopony else was around… Something weird was going on, and Scootaloo was determined to figure it out. It was a thousand times more interesting than her normal daily mysteries—like, why are there so many earthworms in the backyard and not the front yard? Though today she had more plans to hang out with her friends, so it could wait. Friends came first. It probably wasn’t anything important anyway. ******* Despite the apparent lack of importance, Scootaloo wasted no time in leaping out of bed in the morning, not even letting herself have time to yawn. In the three seconds that took, the pebbles could have a chance to disappear! She didn’t even bother going downstairs this time; she simply threw open the window and jumped outside, flapping her wings frantically to slow her fall a bit. She stumbled on the landing as her hoof came down on the ground at an awkward angle, but she regained her balance before she fell. Panting, Scootaloo galloped over to where she knew the design would be. Yesterday was her name; the day before was her image. What would today be? Her cutie mark? No, it wasn't her cutie mark—it was an arrow, pointing down the street. Squinting, Scootaloo gazed off in the direction that it pointed, but aside from more road, she couldn’t make out anything that it might have been pointing to. It was either too small or too far away. There was only really one way to find out for sure. Making a quick stop back inside her house, Scootaloo hauled her scooter outside and scrawled a quick note to the foalsitter, who sure enough was passed out on the couch, snoring away. She probably wouldn’t wake up before Scootaloo got back, but just in case she did, this way she wouldn’t freak out and drag the parents home. The scooter made things really easy for her. See, it was sometimes hard to walk in a straight line without veering off course, which would be really unhelpful since she had to follow exactly where the arrow was pointing. The scooter, on the other hoof, went perfectly straight as long as she didn’t mess with the handlebars. All was going well until some stupid bush got in the way of her path. Scootaloo let out a groan and skidded to a halt. Even though the path was technically in the way of the bush—the bush had been there first—the bush really had some nerve getting in her way like that. “Dumb plant,” Scootaloo growled, eyes shooting daggers. A vision of her viscously smashing the obstacle with her scooter played inside her mind, leaves and twigs flying everywhere in her imagination. She sneered, but a second later it melted into a sigh. No, violent destruction would probably get her off track, and she’d end up scootering in the wrong direction and never find out what the arrow pointed to. A more logical approach finally occurred to her, cutting off a string of rude words directed at the plant. She looked up and down, weighing her options, and nodded. She could either go under or over the bush, and as she didn’t have a shovel with her, over seemed like the only viable option. She knew what to do, of course. It wasn’t like her years of scooter riding had been all for nothing. If the wind was weak enough, she could kick up some speed and jump pretty high up. Clearing the shrubbery would be foal’s play. Besides, it gave her a pretty good excuse to perform some epic parkour. Step one, get some distance. Careful not to bump the handlebars out of position, Scootaloo slowly backed up her scooter until there was enough room between her and the bush for her to go at it full speed. Step two, kick off on the scooter as hard as possible and go really fast. This was the best part. Scootaloo kicked off the ground and flapped her wings hard, grinning as the wind whipped past her face and through the part of her mane that wasn’t covered by the helmet. Speed was undoubtedly the best feeling in the world. It was freeing, powerful, magical, and the adrenaline rush was intense. The faster the speed, the more dangerous it was, but it was also more awesome. And as the scooter neared the bush, step three… bending her knees, Scootaloo gripped the handlebars tighter, then straightened her legs at the same time as she yanked upwards and thrusted her wings towards the ground, launching herself and her scooter into the air. Soaring through the sky, Scootaloo glanced down and was filled with the warm feeling of pride as she saw she’d made it over the shrub with plenty of room to spare. Seriously cool. As she slammed back down onto the ground, she leaned her weight towards the front so that the wheel couldn’t turn sideways if it hit a bump. “Yeah!” Scootaloo whooped. Perfect, as usual. Chest puffed out in pride, she continued along her imaginary trail. It led her across the street, over the sidewalk, into a neighbour’s yard, and right smack dab into a huge oak tree. “Seriously?” Scootaloo exclaimed, coming to a halt. There was no way she had messed up. She’d spent so much time making sure she got everything right. Clearly, the only explanation for this was that whoever put down that arrow sucked at following straight lines. And only after scanning the ground and around the tree for a while did she stop to consider the most obvious place to examine—the tree itself. Duh. Sure enough, there was a little arrow carved into the tree’s bark, pointing towards a little pathway at the end of the yard. Scootaloo knocked her hoof against the tree trunk in exasperation, silently cursing her inattention to detail. She knew the pathway, anyway—it was a pretty good shortcut down into a little neck of woods. It wasn’t quite the Everfree, but it was still really cool to explore, and honestly Scootaloo was kind of glad for the lack of monsters and other dangerous things. There was a bunch of great big rocks down there for doing scootering tricks on, plus a pretty decent river. Not really good for swimming in because of all the rocks and the shallow depth, but it was enough to play other games in. Feeling a little silly, Scootaloo leaned her scooter against the tree and cautiously ventured down the pathway. Sure, she could’ve taken her scooter, but last time she was here she had fallen badly and gotten scraped up quite a bit. Nature seemed to be reading her mind, because at that moment a few stones came loose underneath her hooves, nearly sending her tumbling. With a squeak and frantic flapping of her wings, she slid a few inches before grabbing hold of a tree branch and steadying herself. “Stupid dirt, stupid ground,” she whined, suddenly feeling very grateful that she hadn’t bothered to remove her helmet earlier. Warily, she let go of the tree with one hoof, then the other, waiting until she was absolutely sure the ground was steady before resuming her walk. At least nobody had been there to see that. Alternating between examining the path for tripping hazards and scanning the area around her for whatever the arrow wanted her to find, Scootaloo continued onwards until she reached a turn in the path, right by the edge of the river. She was debating taking a short swim in one of the deeper parts of the river when she saw it—a piece of paper nailed into the trunk of a large oak tree. A shiver of excitement shooting through her spine, Scootaloo dashed over to the tree, worries about possible tripping hazards completely wiped from her mind. The paper stuck to the tree was the only thing that mattered. Find out who I am and more––meet me at the corner of Apple Lane and Trotter’s Avenue, where the old park used to be. I’ll be there Monday, at five in the evening. Scootaloo knew the place. She used to hang out there when she was really little, but the park had been taken down a few years ago when it was causing trouble for Sweet Apple Acres. Something about too many foals damaging the nearby trees and messing around when the Apple family needed to do work. “S-Scootaloo?” Somepony had been watching her.