The Cutie Mark Crusaders trotted along the path away from their school, the recent assignment just given by Miss Cheerilee still running through their minds.
“This family history project sounds boring,” Scootaloo said, kicking a pebble off the trail.
“Boring?” Apple Bloom asked. “I wish. I’ve got more family than I can shake a stick at. The hard part’ll be choosing somepony that didn’t affect my life. Maybe I’ll do option two, what my life would be like back then.”
I’d still be flightless. Scootaloo shook her head. “It’s not just the family part, it’s the history part,” she amended. And it’s not like I have much of either, anyway, she added silently. “I live with my aunts. Forget my ancestors, I barely know what my parents do.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be boring,” Sweetie Belle said thoughtfully. “I do think I’ll show up to school in one of those big old-fashioned dresses, with a big hat and more frills than you could shake two sticks at.”
“Knowing Rarity? Yeah,” Apple Bloom agreed, giving her friend a knowing nudge. “I’ll probably grab one of Applejack’s oldest hats from the closet and call that good. Ain’t much has changed in farming since way back then.” She gave a quick buck in the air. “Earth pony magic!” she cheered. She glanced over at Scootaloo, expecting a slight rebuttal in favor of pegasus magic and its weather controlling ability.
None came. Scootaloo was still looking down at the ground, as if lost in thought.
“Scoots?” Apple Bloom asked.
Scootaloo didn’t respond.
“Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom gave her a gentle bump with her hips.
“Gah!”
“You ok?” Apple Bloom asked. Sweetie Belle poked her head over Apple Bloom’s flank, also concerned.
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking. I should probably get started on that homework. See you girls later.” She turned and started walking back home.
She pushed the door open and slid inside. She heard the sounds of quiet giggling as she shut the door behind her.
Aunt Lofty poked her head out of the living room. “Scootaloo?” She glanced at the clock. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, dropping her bags by the couch. “School project.” She looked up. “How are you related to me?”
Lofty was taken aback by the blunt question, but quickly recovered. She smiled. “I’m your aunt.” She gently booped Scootaloo on the nose. “And I love you very much.”
Scootaloo rubbed her muzzle brusquely, but Lofty could see the tiny smile that flitted across her lips. But then it was gone, replaced again by a frown, a sure sign something was weighing the little filly down. “No, I mean, I have to do a report on family history, and dress up as an ancestor and talk for like a minute on how they’ve affected my life. And I don’t really know much about my family. So I was wondering if you were actually my aunt, or if it was, like, an honorary thing.”
Lofty chuckled. “No, I’m actually your dad’s younger sister.”
Aunt Holiday raised her hoof from her position on her back on the couch. “Mine’s honorary,” she offered.
“Alright. So what do you know about our family?”
Lofty paused. She pursed her lips. She bit her lower lip. “We… moved from Cloudsdale?” she asked, looking back towards Holiday.
Holiday held up her hooves. “What are you looking at me for? My family’s from Vanhoover.”
Scootaloo turned back to Lofty, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. Her eyes flicked and her tail flicked and her ears pinned.
“I… don’t really know,” she finally admitted. “I guess I just never thought about it.”
“Great,” Scootaloo mumbled.
“You know what that means!” Lofty said, a wide grin on her face. “You’ll have to do research, at the libra- er, the castle!” She paused. “Still getting used to that,” she admitted. “And it doesn’t sound nearly as foreboding. The castle! Wooo!” She waved her hooves ominously.
“I dunno,” Holiday interjected. “I’d rather be locked in a library than locked in a castle.”
“Castles have kitchens, though,” Lofty pointed out. “You like cooking and you can’t cook in a library.”
“I do, yes, but the old library did have a kitchen,” Holiday argued. “There was, like, a whole house in there.”
All this talk of kitchens, and no snack! Scootaloo’s stomach rumbled.
Lofty jumped. “Ah! We have a hungry filly!”
Scootaloo narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a foal, Aunt Lofty.”
“No, but everypony likes Holiday Streamers’s cheesy bread. Mmmm?”
Scootaloo brightened. She did like cheesy bread. She looked hopefully over to her other aunt.
Holiday pulled a throw pillow over her head and held it there.
“Fine,” Lofty said primly. She started trotting to the kitchen. “Then I’ll make cheesy br-”
“Ap- ap- ap-!” Holiday said, rolling off the couch and landing on the floor. That thought alone was enough to get her up on her hooves. She stood up and strode past Lofty and Scootaloo. “You are not taking one step into my kitchen, thank you very much!”
Lofty and Scootaloo shared a knowing giggle.
Scootaloo wriggled under her covers and pulled them over her head in preparation for their nightly tradition.
Sure enough, after only a minute or two, her door slowly creaked open, and her aunts sneaked into her room. Scootaloo held the covers tightly.
“Gotcha!” Lofty’s voice cried.
One held her down, the other tickled her mercilessly. Scootaloo laughed and tried to push her off, and by doing so, relinquished her grip on the covers. Lofty pulled the covers off and gently held down a hoof to avoid getting bopped, and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Scootaloo.”
Holiday squirmed over and kissed her as well. “Night, Scoots!”
Scootaloo chuckled as she settled down, covers pulled up to her chin. “Hey, Lofty? Do you think Mom or Dad will be back soon?”
Lofty pursed her lips. “Well, you know, they’re busy. They both are. But they love you very much.”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said quietly. “I just… it’ll be hard to do that project. Without them, I mean.”
“I can help you do some research, if you’d like,” Lofty offered.
“Thanks,” Scootaloo said, “but let me see what I can do first.”
Lofty nodded, a wry smile crossing her face. Scootaloo was a filly who enjoyed her independence, and would only accept help if she thought it wouldn’t make her look weak. It was just part of her personality. But the offer had been made, and she would remember it. She turned and gestured to the door, signalling to Holiday they should leave. “Alright. Sleep tight!”
Scootaloo underlined it with her quill. There. That was a good start. She looked around at the library of the Friendship Castle and spat it out of her mouth. Now, where would be a good place to start here?
She wandered around the library, glancing at the titles on the spines, hoping something would jump off the shelf at her.
And then, suddenly, something did. A book quite literally dropped off a shelf, nearly pinning her tail to the ground and landing with a loud ‘thump’.
Scootaloo did not let out a high-pitched shriek. Nope, she most certainly did not.
“Sorry!” Spike called down, perched on a high shelf, his claws still futilely outstretched towards the book. “Thought I had it!”
“It’s ok,” Scootaloo said, feeling her heart pound. She nosed it up to pass it back to him, but something on the cover caught her eye. She set it down to get a better look. “Ponyville Elementary Yearbook?” She squinted at it. “But it’s, like, old.”
“Yeah, we’ve got all of them, dating back to the first one printed.” He cracked a smile. “Have you seen the ones from when Miss Cheerilee was a foal? They’re gold.”
“Yeah, they’re hilarious,” Scootaloo agreed, remembering the picture Miss Cheerilee had shown in class for their discussion on cutie marks. She brushed a hoof appreciatively against her own mane. It would be funny, sure, but she had to focus. Pictures of old ponies as foals wouldn’t…
Wait.
She glanced up at Spike. “Hey, how many of these did you say you had?”
“Uh, all of them?” Spike answered.
Scootaloo did a little mental math. “Alright, could you pass me... that one?”
Twilight opened the door and trotted in, a book held firmly in her magic. She slowed to a stop. “Hey, Scootaloo. Doing some research?”
“Trying to,” Scootaloo answered from behind yearbooks. “I’m looking for my grandparents.”
Twilight blinked. “Aren’t they-?”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said bluntly. “But what I meant was, I’m looking for what they did. It’s for that history project we have for school.”
“Oh, right,” Twilight said. “I heard about that. How’s that going?”
“I learned that one grandma wanted to be the first one to do a Sonic Rainboom, and that my other grandpa wanted to build a bridge to Cloudsdale. But I don’t know what their parents wanted to do. Or even who they were.”
“Oh, so you’re looking for more of a census?”
Scootaloo blinked. “A what?”
Twilight lit her horn and pulled another book out. “A census,” she repeated. “It’s a list of all the ponies that live in a place, children and parents.”
Scootaloo brightened. That was much better!
“This is not much better,” Scootaloo mumbled. These were all mouthwritten, and ponies back then had messy writing.
She glanced guiltily at her own writing. You know, relatively speaking.
“Scootaloo, this is family history!” Twilight chided gently. “Look, all these ponies are actual ponies, with real lives and thoughts and feelings and fascinating stories. See? I know you’ll like this one. Shimmering Rose here didn’t have her cutie mark yet in the last census, but now, she’s got one, and she’s even married!”
“That’s… great,” Scootaloo said weakly. “But how does that help me with my project?”
“Because she’s your great, great, great grandmother,” Twilight explained. “And the pony she’s married to is Clear Skies, son of…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Pin Feather!”
If Twilight was expecting an awed or some other reaction, she didn’t get it. Scootaloo blinked.
“Pin Feather,” Twilight repeated.
Scootaloo slowly shook her head.
Twilight remained undaunted. “Alright, context!” she said brightly. She lit her horn and pulled another book off the shelf and opened it. “Have you ever heard of Little Red Riding Hood?”
Scootaloo glanced at the page. “Yeah, famous earth pony outlaw, always wore red, hood over her eyes, hid in the forest, stole from the rich, gave to the poor, had a pet timberwolf. Everypony knows those stories.”
“But what isn’t so well known is that she was a real pony. And she was not an earth pony; she was a pegasus who bound her wings to remain undetected.”
“Miss Cheerilee said all legends have some bases, in fact.” She wasn’t entirely sure why she said that, though. It wasn’t like all these ancient legends were all playing baseball somewhere. How weird would that be? Nightmare Moon up to bat, Tirek as shortstop, Ahuizotl pitching, Discord in the outfield…
Actually, scratch that last one. That one would actually happen. He’d play every position. And then turn the baseball into a squid or something crazy like that.
“That’s true,” Twilight conceded, “but Little Red Riding Hood actually kept records, how much she took, where it came from, where it went. When her journals were found, they were detailed and dated well-enough that historians could cross-reference other personal records and guard reports. And they stopped appearing right after Pin Feather appeared in West Whinnifree. A few other identification documents later found to be forgeries helped prove it. Pin Feather was Little Red Riding Hood, just taking on a new civilian identity.”
“But that sounds awesome,” Scootaloo protested. She thrust a hoof in the air like she was waving a sword. “That’s a life of adventure, always on the run! Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, fighting and winning; why did she stop?”
“She fell in love.”
Scootaloo pulled a face.
“I’m serious,” Twilight insisted. “It was a great story. If we’d had this information back then, when the great playwrights were alive, I’m sure it would have been made into a play. You know, if you ask me, it should still be done. It’d be an instant classic.”
Scootaloo snapped the book shut. “Maybe, but I’ve got what I needed. If I’m related to Little Red Riding Hood, then that’s who I’m going to be. Thanks!” She slid off the chair and bounded off.
“But…” Twilight protested weakly. Her voice trailed off as she realized the door had slammed. She pouted. “Fine. I know someone else who likes true love. Spike!”
Scootaloo stood still, her red cloak lapping at her hocks. Her red hood was pulled down over her eyes, and she thought it gave her a mysterious aura. No longer just Scootaloo, she was Scootabad!
But, you know, bad for bad, which cancelled out and made her good. It was simple math, really.
She stood on the railing of her front porch, watching, waiting.
Another filly, one she didn’t recognize, came trotting up the path. Her coat was yellow, and her red mane was tied in double braids down her back. But she did recognize Scootaloo; she came trotting over. “Hiya, Scoots!”
Scootaloo blinked. “Uh, hi, uh, oh! Apple Bloom!”
Apple Bloom doffed her hat. “Yes indeed-ee! But today, I’m Golden Russet, inventor of the World-Famous Apple Family Cider recipe!” She glanced Scootaloo up and down. “And you are?”
“Oh! I mean, uh… Stand and deliver!” Scootaloo jumped down and straightened up heroically, her cloak… hanging limply by her side. “I’m Little Red Riding Hood!”
Apple Bloom blinked. “You know we had to do a real ancestor, right?”
“She was real, and she was really my ancestor. Twilight helped me.”
Apple Bloom shrugged and started walking. “Your grade.”
They continued down and waited at the crosswalk, where they usually met up with Sweetie Belle.
She soon appeared, wearing a jersey, with her mane pulled back, carrying a football in her green magic floating by her side. “Hey, girls!” she said. She paused at Scootaloo’s outfit. “Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Yep!” Scootaloo said proudly.
Sweetie Belle pursed her lips. “You know we had to do a real ancestor, right?”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes. She was probably going to get a lot of that today. “She was real, and my ancestor, Twilight helped me. Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m Golden Brace, one of the first unicorns in football,” Sweetie answered proudly.
“How did Rarity take that?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Fairly well,” Sweetie Belle said wryly. “We did the family history, she realized she was the only fashionista or fashionisto in our history, realized she was a pioneer in our family and somehow got inspired for a new line.” She shrugged and pushed open the gate with a hoof; she wasn’t quite good enough for multiple objects yet.
Scootaloo glanced around from under the hood. The other foals were all dressed up, as well. Some seemed to have taken good effort. Archer’s mane looked like it had taken hours to do, Diamond Tiara had pulled her mane back and put dark marks under her eyes, Silver Spoon’s mane was slicked back and out of its typical braid.
Huh. Scootaloo slid into her seat and briefly reflected that she had gone with her usual manestyle, the good old wash and wear look. The hood had been a great idea.
She did feel a little better as others came in. Snails had worn a white sheet, and judging by the way the eye holes were lopsided and misshapen, it was entirely probable he had done it this morning before school.
The bell rang, and Miss Cheerilee called the class to order. It was time to begin.
Diamond Tiara went first, of course. “Today, I’m Wire Brush, a scullery maid.” She held up a plate and brush for her prop.
The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that the brush she held was overlaid with silver, but it was a decent effort.
“She affected my life by working her way up, eventually running the kitchen and from there starting her own business, showing that through cleverness and resourcefulness, we can overcome anything.”
Cheerilee nodded.
Silver Spoon stepped up and gestured to her apron. “I’m Firebrand, a blacksmith. He affected my life because he was the first in our family to start working with metals. Later, descendants would go on to expand into whitesmithy and silversmithy, making products such as… tiaras and silver spoons.” She tittered.
Snails was next, probably because Miss Cheerilee thought he wasn’t paying attention. He stood in front and glanced around. “I’m myself, but dead. If I lived when my ancestors did, I’d be dead, because when I was two, I stepped on a poisonous snail and the antivenin hadn’t been invented yet, so if I were born then, I’d be dead.” He nodded proudly, done with his presentation.
Heads turned back to Miss Cheerilee. She stared at him and bit her lower lip, processing this. This had definitely not been what she’d had in mind. That being said, he had technically fulfilled the terms of the assignment. So she settled for making a ‘review later’ note by his name. “Thank you, Snails,” she said. She glanced over. “Scootaloo?”
Scootaloo stood up. “Stand and deliver!” she bellowed. “I’m Pin Feather, formerly known as Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Weren’t we supposed to do a real ancestor?” Diamond Tiara asked in a stage-whisper. She quickly covered her mouth with a hoof. Old habits died hard, apparently.
“She was real,” Miss Cheerilee said, surprising Scootaloo. “There’s empirical evidence that she was a real pony, and that she was a pegasus that bound her wings, making Scootaloo’s presentation accurate.” She gestured for her to continue.
“And I chose her because she’s awesome.” Scootaloo nodded, done.
But Cheerilee wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “And how did she affect your life?” she prompted.
“Uh…” Scootaloo drew a blank. She’d been so excited about this costume that she hadn’t really put much thought into that part of it. “She had my great, great, great, great grandmother?”
The classroom giggled, and Scootaloo felt her cheeks flush. Now she was really grateful for the hood.
Still, this was salvageable. “She fought for justice, right? Standing up for those who couldn’t stand for themselves,” Scootaloo said, her voice growing stronger. “She taught me how to never be afraid to rise to the challenge!”
Cheerilee nodded pensively. “Alright; but the records we have seem to indicate that Little Red Riding Hood never actually had children until she rebranded herself Pin Feather. Did you have anything more you wanted to share about her?”
“Not really,” Scootaloo admitted.
The classroom giggled again, and Cheerilee made another note on her paper. “Thank you, Scootaloo. Apple Bloom?”
Apple Bloom stood up. “I’m Golden Russet, inventor of the World-Famous Apple Family Cider recipe we still use today! She affected my whole family, because we still sell the cider today, and it’s a major part of our business.” She cracked a wry smile. “And no, I didn’t bring samples.”
Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle slowly approached Scootaloo, who was sitting at a table, alone. Her head was down, and she seemed dejected; her lunch remained on the table, unopened and uneaten.
“It’s not so bad,” Sweetie Belle said reassuringly as she slid into the seat next to her friend. “I’m sure you got a lot of points on the costume aspect.”
“No, it’s not that,” Scootaloo said quietly. “All the other projects mentioned how what they did affected our lives. My presentation was how awesome Little Red Riding Hood was, but if she hadn’t given it up to be Pin Feather, I never would have been born. And I guess I can’t see why she did it. Little Red Riding Hood was awesome. If I were her, I’d never stop.” She pursed her lips. “She also bound her wings so she’d look like an earth pony. Now I’m wondering if I inherited tiny wings from her.”
“Well, on the bright side, inheritance don’t work that way,” Apple Bloom said confidently. That confidence waned as she admitted, “But I can’t help with the first part.”
“Me neither,” Sweetie Belle said. “But true love can change a pony.”
“If you say so,” Scootaloo mumbled.
“Hey, Rainbow Dash? Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did, Squirt; but feel free to ask another.”
Scootaloo cracked a smile, but became serious again. “Would you ever give up being a Wonderbolt?”
Rainbow Dash chuckled, taken aback. “Well, that’s a new one,” she admitted. “Uh, I’m not planning on it. I’ve been wanting to be a Wonderbolt for, like, ever. And I’m great at it.”
“Yeah, you are; but… would anything make you give it up?” Scootaloo pressed.
Rainbow shrugged. “Maybe if I found something I wanted more. What’s with these questions?”
Scootaloo looked down. “Just curious.”
Scootaloo opened the door. “Hey, Aunt Holiday?” she called.
Holiday grunted, lifting her head up from the couch.
“Would you ever give up baking?”
“No,” she said instantly. “It’s therapeutic.”
“And fattening,” Lofty sang.
“And fun, and I enjoy it,” Holiday cut her off. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut before I change my mind about making brownies tonight.”
Lofty mimed zipping her lips shut.
“What would make you give it up? Theoretically, I mean.”
“If Lofty became lactose intolerant,” Holiday answered. “I wouldn’t want to bake anything I couldn’t share, anyway.”
Scootaloo pursed her lips.
Twilight opened the door to see an orange filly standing there. “Hi, Scootaloo,” she started.
“Why did she give it up?” Scootaloo started.
Twilight pursed her lips, trying to remember this context, but then brightened. “Oh, yes. It’s… well, maybe we should read her last journal entries. She can tell us herself.”
The journal was found, and seats were procured.
Visited the grave of Arby today.
“Arby?”
“Arboreal Verdance; her timberwolf.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Still hard to believe he’s gone. Stopped another carriage today. Was in a sour mood. Holding this prince for ransom.
Regretting holding this prince for ransom. He has not stopped whining since he got here. His guard is tolerable. More polite. Probably because he has an injured leg. Cannot run. They had better pay handsomely for this whelp or I might actually go through with my threat to send him back in pieces.
Stopped another carriage. They had heard I have prince blood-something, and gave their bits up quickly.
They skipped over the ledger of what she’d taken.
His guard actually helped cook lunch today. He was the youngest, watched his mother in the kitchen. I don’t care, but still.
I am going to cook and eat this prince, I swear it. I am certain he will taste foul, but I will press on anyway just out of sheer spite. Let his guard out of the chains today. He’s decent.
Spent the day with his guard. Never realized how nice other ponies’ company can be.
Heard word that a rescue party was coming. They will find the prince (most likely with a concussion), but Little Red Riding Hood will be long gone. Showed Sky Dancer my wings. He found a pin feather. I had hoped he’d find something else
It is done. This is my last entry as Little Red Riding Hood. And yet, I regret nothing. For years I have demanded that others stand and deliver, today I stand and deliver. I give up my identity, and become somepony new. And I believe my gift shall be glorious.
“Wait, so that’s it?” Scootaloo asked.
“Yep. Guard records show that Prince Blueblood was found the next day in an abandoned hideout, tied up, with no sign of Little Red Riding Hood or Sky Dancer anywhere.”
“That was, like, nothing!”
“There’s a lot that’s missing,” Twilight conceded.
“What was so great about this Sky Dancer guy?”
“We don’t know, specifically. But I bet he was just a sweet guy, just doing his job, and they just… became friends.”
“There should be more,” Scootaloo said firmly. “And if it doesn’t exist, I’m making it myself.” She glanced around. “Hey, Spike, want to help me write a play?”
Cheerilee arrived early at the schoolhouse on Monday morning, ready for a new week.
To her surprise, there was somepony there waiting for her. Scootaloo sat in front of the door, playing with a paddleball. She brightened as she saw her teacher approach (and paid for her lapse in concentration with a ball to the muzzle). “Miss Cheerilee!”
“Yes, Scootaloo?”
“So, uh, you remember my project? I figured out what I did wrong. Pin Feather gave up being Little Red Riding Hood because she found something she loved more, and so what I learned was it’s ok to give up what you want for something you want more.” She paused. “Also that colts aren’t that bad,” she added.
Cheerilee smiled wryly. “That’s very good, but it’s a little late to change your grade, Scootaloo. It wouldn’t be fair to the others.”
“I know,” Scootaloo said, “but I’d still like to fix it. So I’ve written this, and I’m hoping we could perform it for the fall festival?” She held it up hopefully.
Cheerilee took it and scanned the first page. Then the second. Then the third. And a little smile spread across her face.
Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon walked across the stage, their eyes comically wide. “Oh, I hope nothing bad happens to our ill-gotten goods,” Diamond started. “What if Little Red Riding Hood haunts these woods?”
“Fear not, milady,” Silver Spoon answered. “For the rogue Little Red Riding Hood is naught but a myth.”
“Then today is the day myths come to life!” Scootaloo leapt from the shadows, her cape billowing, with Apple Bloom the timberwolf bounding along behind her. She straightened up proudly. “Stand and deliver!”
Scootaloo trotted down the steps, still wearing her costume. Her play had gone wonderfully! She was so proud. The only thing that could possibly have made this better was if her parents had seen.
And then she slowed to a stop. She recognized those two ponies standing next to her aunts.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Scootaloo!” Her father ran over and pulled her into a hug. “That was wonderful, sweetie. You did great.” He knelt down to meet her eyes. “And... I think it’s time you learned what your mother and I actually do all day.”