The reason behind the frequent absence of Scootaloo's parents is written in the journal of a mysterious creature. Her parents abused and tortured her, and this immortal being did not take too kindly to such evils.
Dedicated to my friend, Midnight. This one's for you. May you find your light in these dark days.
~No longer headcanon as of season 9, episode 12. This means Scootaloo's parents in this fic and her parents shown in that episode are not the same ponies. This is an AU, hence the tag.~
*This story has a happy ending, so please don't downvote before reading the full thing.*
Dreadwing is a magical creature who feeds from the energy of foals who have yet to earn their cutie mark. After finishing with his previous host he moves on to Scootaloo, a young pegasus who can't fly. As usual, he absorbs the intense emotions present in the mind of the filly. Unlike all the other foals he's seen, however, the strongest thing he can feel in her mind isn't happiness, excitement, or anything vaguely positive. It's despair.
This cruel being who knew nothing but stealing joy from young foals for the millennium he's been alive looks into why Scootaloo is so unhappy for such a young filly. It just so happens that ponies have a darker side than even he had ever witnessed, and despite being what he was, he realized there were monsters out there worse than he.
A strange creature watched as a small orange pegasus walked off into the sunset, flanked by her two friends. He smiled sadly. Just one short year with the young filly, a mere blink of an eye in his long life span, had changed nearly a millennium of bitterness inside of him, and he could say with certainty that he had made his first friend. However, he knew he couldn't stay here any longer. It was time for both of them to move on, as they had each discovered their true purpose.
The creature nodded to himself and turned to walk in the other direction. He had only moved one step when a light plop caught his attention. Something had landed on the ground underneath him, and when he turned his head to look he saw a small black leather book: his journal that he had used to keep track of the past couple hundred years. It was a nostalgic item, especially for the entries of his time with Scootaloo.
Pages flitted as the creature picked up the journal and thumbed through it. He couldn't help but smile upon reading his entry where he had first encountered the young foal who would change his life drastically. They were wonderful memories, and now that he had the time, why not take a few moments to reminisce?
The creature couldn't remember the last time he had just taken time to relax. It was certainly overdue. Using his magic, he lifted a stone chair padded with moss from the ground and sat down on it. He flipped to the first page of text and smiled to himself. There was a lot to read through. This could take a while.
Dreadwing's Journal
My name is Dreadwing. I'm not a pony, but I often find myself wishing I had been one. Sure, I'd have died long ago, but mortality is worth the happiness and relative sanity it brings. I can feel the madness creeping in around the edges of my mind and I need somewhere else to put it all. This journal will have to do.
These worries keep circling endlessly through my mind. Will I really have to do this for the rest of my existence? How long will that even be? I don't think I've aged physically since my creation, so will it be for eternity? If some terrible disaster happens that wipes out all of pony life, will the lack of emotions to feed off of drive me insane?
I digress. Worrying about the future does me no good, and I certainly do it a lot for someone so old.
Maybe resentment is what drove me to stop showing myself to others. Nopony accepted me, so why should I care about them? I can control who sees me and who can't, but nopony has seen me for the past eight hundred years. Mortals tend to run screaming whenever that happens and it's quite a nuisance when the royal guard or some egotistical unicorn comes to try to fend you off. I was even chased by Celestia herself once. I'm sure Tirek would have loved the chance to come face to face with her, and while I could have easily defended myself, I merely fled. Now that I think about it, that might have been the final straw that shoved me to where I am today, feasting off of the minds of young colts and fillies.
You see, similarly to changelings I require the essence of other creatures to survive (or so I think. I tend to lose control of myself when I try "starving" myself to death, so I still don't know if I even can die). Unlike them, I can absorb any emotion and I have to mentally connect myself to the host pony. The only limitation to this, as far as I can tell, is that I can't attach to a pony with a cutie mark. Not easily, anyway. That's why I usually target young foals who have yet to earn theirs. Sure, stealing some of the joy and happiness from foals may seem cruel, but I don't care anymore. Maybe there was a time when I would have, but those days are long gone.
I digress again. You get the gist. I selfishly feed off of young ponies and cause potentially permanent emotional damage just to remain in control of my mind. Sure I'm no Grogar or Sombra, but I'm not nice or selfless. I couldn't care less about the foals I feed off of. It's just the circle of life, I guess.
The creature thumbed over to the first entry in his journal. It was all written in first person, but he felt it wasn't really immersive enough to just read the entries as they were. No, he wanted to actually be there in the moment. He thought to himself. The magic he possessed seemed to have infinite potential, so why not try something new?
The stone chair receded back into the ground as the creature stood up and allowed the book to levitate in front of him. The open pages began to glow and he felt a strange tugging in his mind. After a short moment, his consciousness was catapulted back in time, the emotions and scenes around him all as strong as if he were really there on that chilly evening in autumn again. He had no control of his body, but his mind was still there and he was truly reliving the past. He even surprised himself with his magic sometimes.
The Thirty-fifth of the Fifth Moon, year 1819 of Celestia's reign
Dreadwing sighed to himself as he felt the mental bond he shared with a particularly annoying colt weaken. The young pony had just earned his cutie mark, two playing cards situated next to each other, and thus had received a strong resistance to the creature's absorption magic. There wasn't any point in hanging around. It was time for him to find a new host, as the amount of energy he would receive wouldn't be enough to sustain him.
Sighing again, Dreadwing pushed himself onto his two rear hooves and stepped out into the cold evening air. Over the years he had traveled all across Equestria, and there wasn't a nook or cranny he hadn't seen yet. Now, he found himself in Ponyville, a small town not too far from Canterlot.
Dreadwing scratched the back of his head and looked at the rising moon above him. "Damn, this is getting old. Am I really just going to do this forever?" he thought to himself. It was definitely a dissatisfying way to live, never being able to talk to anypony. It's not like he really had a choice, though. Not feeding would give him terrible side effects. First, the twitches started, before eventually evolving into tremors. Dry eyes and mouth began shortly after that, followed by hallucinations and terrible cramps in his chest. Eventually, maddening effects develop in his mind, turning him animalistic. He would completely lose control at that point and turn quite violent, feeding ruthlessly until his mental state returned to normal.
The entire body of the unusual creature shivered from head to hoof, and not from the cold. It was a terrible feeling to not be in control of oneself. If he had to spend eternity alone, he'd rather be coherent.
A single black feathered wing that sprouted from the center of the monster's back cast a dark shadow over a passing mare. She blinked in confusion at the sudden darkness, as Dreadwing had chosen to not appear to her. He moved out of the way quickly. Being discovered was something he didn't really want to do. The last time that had happened, Celestia had chased him tirelessly for days, only stopping when he had feigned defeat.
The mare shook her head and continued unsteadily on her way, assuming she had simply had too much to drink. Dreadwing sighed and turned back down the street. Most of the ponies had already begun their nightly routines, and a few were already asleep.
Dreadwing closed his eyes and allowed his magic to flow through the town, light tendrils searching for a suitable host. He felt small tugs here and there that signified a markless pony, but one particularly unusual flicker caught his attention. The emotions of every foal he had encountered over his long lifespan burned bright like a raging bonfire of innocence and excitement. This filly, however, had very little light present in her mind. It was like a candle reaching the end of its life span, hoping against hope that it had the strength to survive the darkness.
"How odd. I think I'll investigate," Dreadwing thought. Something new like this was something he never thought he'd encounter, and he was curious to see its source.
A light tingling enveloped Dreadwing's body as he teleported himself to the filly's home. It was little more than a run-down shack, held together with scrap wood and lazily applied nails. The door was horribly crooked, half of the windows were cracked, and the overgrowth around the building almost made it look abandoned, save for the lamplight visible inside.
Dreadwing walked forward and phased through the walls of the house directly into the foal's room, feeling even more intrigued than before. A thousand theories filled his mind, but he wanted to see if he could discover the source of this foal's emotions without magic.
He found the filly curled up in bed, crying quietly to herself. She was a pitiful thing; her fiery coat was mangy, her flowing violet mane was disheveled and uneven, her sunken lavender eyes were screwed shut in pain, and her anemic wings were wrapped around her emaciated body.
"What could cause a pony so young to develop such powerful feelings of despair?" Dreadwing questioned curiously. He could feed off of negative emotions just the same, and it would probably end up being beneficial to the poor girl. He didn't particularly care about that, but it was a good change of pace and scenery.
The sound of shouting caught Dreadwing's attention. He could hear what sounded like a stallion and a mare yelling at each other from another room. The filly's sobs grew stronger and her wings wrapped tighter around herself as a reaction.
"Ah, parent troubles. That explains it, though it doesn't seem like a serious enough problem to cause such pain in somepony unable to fully understand the workings of the world yet." Dreadwing walked over to the filly and positioned a black clawed hand directly over her forehead. He welcomed the familiar feeling of pure energy flowing through his arm and into his body as he created a link between their minds. As he had felt before, joy was all but absent from her, and anguish was the reigning emotion.
Dreadwing nodded to himself and turned to go, wanting to be out of the cramped home, but stopped when he had noticed the filly's cries had ceased suddenly. He turned around and found her glancing around the room, sniffling, but no longer crying.
"H-hello..?" she whispered tentatively into the air.
Dreadwing froze as countless worries assaulted his mind. After a short moment he managed to get them under control, noticing that she had not actually seen him as he had initially thought. It was as if she somehow felt when he had entered her mind. "This... this has never happened before," he thought nervously. He remained still for many minutes until the filly finally gave up and fell back into her bed.
"That was very strange," Dreadwing thought as he walked back outside. "How did she know when I made the link? I've never seen another pony do such a thing." He glanced back over his shoulder at the house and frowned slightly. "One thing is for certain, though. That pony is not like the others, and for some reason I get the feeling that things are about to take an unusual turn."
The Forty-first of the Fifth Moon, year 1819 of Celestia's reign
Dreadwing watched the young filly, Scootaloo, as she left school for the day. He had gone back to the house a couple of times in the past few days, and while all three ponies seemed tense around each other, nothing signified anything out of the ordinary. It appeared to just be the usual case of two parents fighting, leaving their foal to suffer the unintentional consequences.
Scootaloo grabbed a scooter she had stashed in a bush and kicked off down the road. She rode her scooter for hours every day, probably wanting to avoid going home for as long as possible. It was hard to blame her with such a tough situation.
Dreadwing floated high above Ponyville, observing the orange pony as she zipped around the streets of the town. As with every other foal he fed off of that encountered problems, he liked to follow the situations through to the end. He never helped in any way, but it gave him at least some entertainment in his painfully dull life. With Scootaloo, though, it was strangely difficult. A horrible chill he couldn't explain went down his spine every time he entered her home, and it was such an unsettling feeling that he decided to observe only from a distance. That meant he couldn't go directly there to gather information. He'd have to get what he could from listening to Scootaloo's thoughts.
The problem with this was Scootaloo never thought about her problems. Like what she did after school every day, riding her scooter for hours on end, the only way she knew how to cope with her problems was to run from them. Every time her mind wandered to anything even remotely related to home, she pulled her thoughts to her happy fantasies as a distraction. Dreadwing tried to work around this by prodding through her memories, but like with his presence she was able to sense when he did that, and an instinctive barrier went up around her mind. It didn't seem like it was on purpose, and Dreadwing was sure she had no dark secrets to hide, but it was still an unusual case that he wanted answers for.
Dreadwing scratched the back of his head and frowned. "I guess I'll have to observe longer to figure out what's really going on."
The Eighteenth of the Sixth Moon, year 1819 of Celestia's reign
Snow was falling in Ponyville, lightly dusting the ground outside. Scootaloo still rode her scooter despite the bitter cold, preferring the sharp bite of the freezing wind to the near-constant shouting from her parents. Her bottom lip was split today, and her tongue darted over it occasionally.
Dreadwing scratched the top of his head. He had missed watching her yesterday, as he had decided to roam Ponyville instead of watching the orange filly ride around. The one day he hadn't paid any attention to her and she had injured herself. He sighed. The unfortunate creature always seemed to have terrible luck, especially when it came to timing. He'd just have to be more vigilant if he wanted to figure out the mystery of this unique pony.
The sun had gone down by the time Scootaloo called it a night. Normally she was home by sunset, which made Dreadwing even more curious. It was entirely possible that it was just a coincidence, but he wondered if things were getting worse at home. Maybe he'd work up the courage to enter again some day.
The Forty-sixth of the Sixth Moon, year 1819 of Celestia's reign
Heavy snow had fallen overnight, meaning the school had been closed for the day. Even so, Scootaloo still rode her scooter, trying to leave all of her problems in the wind behind her. Dreadwing knew it wouldn't work, but he could sense it gave her the strength to continue, which was something she desperately needed.
After an entire day of riding through Ponyville, Scootaloo finally took a break. She climbed into a tall tree on the edge of the town that overlooked the buildings, flapping her small in an attempt to make the ascent a little easier. Upon reaching about half of its height, she nestled into a hollow in the trunk and stared out at the empty town as the sun began to set. It was her favorite place to go to be by herself, and if she wasn't on her scooter, she was in this tree.
Dreadwing floated to the foot of a nearby tree and sat down with his back against it. It was at times like this when Scootaloo's mind tended to wander the most, and Dreadwing almost thought he had felt a little something in her mind before she pushed it away once, some small hint as to what was keeping her so distressed. Over the past moon, Dreadwing had gotten the feeling there was more to her pain than just fighting parents.
Her thoughts went to their usual comforting places. Soaring high in the clouds with other pegasi, speeding along a racetrack on her scooter, romping around with friends who didn't exist... They were all fantasies she wished she could have. Not once had Dreadwing seen her talk to another pony her age. She tended to avoid the others in her school, and while Cheerilee had noticed something was off and tried talking to Scootaloo, the orange pegasus just put up an act, pretending to be happier than she was. The only reason Dreadwing was able to see so much was because he was there when Scootaloo thought no other pony was looking. He was the only one to ever see her cry.
Darkness brushed the edge of Dreadwing's mind from his link with the filly, and he glanced up at Scootaloo's hollow. As usual, the thought vanished almost as soon as it had appeared, but it gave a brief insight. This time he had gotten a faint sense of betrayal, and a single word reverberated in his own mind. "Why?"
Scootaloo's mind didn't go back to that dark place. She ended the day lost in her fantasies, and when the moon had begun to rise, she slithered back down the tree and rode her scooter home again.
The Forty-seventh of the Sixth Moon, year 1819 of Celestia's reign
Confusion twisted Dreadwing's face as he watched Scootaloo limp to school. She was unable to ride her scooter in such a condition, and while most ponies probably wouldn't have even noticed, her pain was all too evident to Dreadwing. Had it not been for the mental link they shared, he might have never realized it was taking all of her concentration to not scrunch her face up in agony with every step. With her mind being so focused on one task it was impossible for Dreadwing to find her pain's cause, so for now, he simply assumed she was sore from her excessively long scooter ride the previous evening.
She barely managed to make it through the school day, and Dreadwing got no hints during that time, either. When the students were released, instead of going to her usual hollow Scootaloo went to Ponyville's bridge and crawled into the arch underneath it. Even though she still ran through her usual fantasies, the darkness that appeared at random times now lingered in her mind nearly constantly, growing stronger even with her attempts to keep it at bay. They pushed themselves to the forefront of her thoughts, bumping and shoving anything even remotely happy out of the way.
"I wonder what changed so drastically overnight?" Dreadwing wondered. Fear, sadness, and even a little hatred stayed at the edges of Scootaloo's thoughts, growing in intensity while the sun sank in the sky, taking her hopes and waning strength with it. Dreadwing watched as her head fell into her hooves and she began to sob, overwhelmed by her emotions.
It was a sad sight, and despite being the monster he was, Dreadwing felt sorry for her. Looking down on the depressed filly, he almost saw a bit of his past self in her. Had it not been for that, he might not have interfered when Scootaloo's sobs came to an end and she shakily pulled a small knife from her bag before gingerly placing it against her wrist.
In a move so uncharacteristic, Dreadwing appeared to her. He wasn't sure why he chose to do so. Maybe it was the unexpected empathy he felt fo suddenly, but even though he had decided long ago to not directly interfere in the lives of mortals, he knew deep down he needed to step in.
Scootaloo's eyes widened slightly as the pair of massive black hooves materialized in front of her. The filly's head upturned slowly as she took in her unanticipated guest, and while Dreadwing fully expected her to bolt, she didn't. She simply sat there, staring up at him.
Perturbed, Dreadwing frowned down at her. "Well? Are you not afraid of a monster such as I?" he said in a voice like sandpaper.
It took a moment for Scootaloo's brain to catch up to her eyes, but after a delay, she spoke in a small voice. "I'm afraid of monsters, yeah. But you're not one."
Dreadwing's frown deepened. "Not a monster? Look at me. I skulk in the shadows, I feed off of the energy of ponies, and soldiers attack me on sight. I'm a horrific beast who strikes fear into the hearts of everypony I meet. How can you say I'm not a monster?"
Scootaloo shook her head. "Looks don't count for anything. I've met real monsters and they looked nothing like you."
Dreadwing cocked his head at her. "What do you mean? What other monsters have you met?"
Scootaloo opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. She shook her head again. "It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it."
"Alright." Dreadwing walked over the frozen river to the other side of the arch and sat down in front of it so that they faced each other about ten feet apart. He had noticed her hide the knife as soon as his back was turned, but he didn't feel the need to interfere any more than he already had. "I guess there's no point in hiding myself from her now. She's seen me. It would be pointless to continue to do so."
They sat there in silence for a long few moments. Scootaloo glanced back at him every so often, but it took her the better part of five minutes to speak again. "So what are you, exactly? I've never seen a pony like you before."
"I'm not a pony. I have no idea what I am and I've never seen another of my kind. I've never met another pony who didn't immediately flee from me, either," Dreadwing replied.
Scootaloo rubbed one of her shoulders roughly. "Most ponies don't look past the surface. Ponyville's a better place than most, but it's still not perfect. Nopony is perfect."
Dreadwing eyed the small pegasus. "You're strangely mature for one so young."
"It's probably because... well, I'd rather not say." Scootaloo shifted slightly on the cold rocks. "So why are you here?"
"I feed off of the emotions of young foals to survive," Dreadwing said bluntly. "I'm like a changeling, except it can be any emotion, not just love. I've been following you around for the past moon for that reason."
Scootaloo sighed and glanced out at the leafless trees in the distance. "I guess you know my secret then, huh?"
Dreadwing shook his head. "I don't, but I've been trying to figure it out. Your mind is very strange for one so young. Does it have something to do with your parents? I can sense a deeper problem in you, but I don't know what it is."
"It's... complicated, but you're on the right track. So are you what's been poking around in my mind the past few weeks?"
Dreadwing nodded. "Yes. You are the first pony I've met that was able to detect my presence. Ever since that first night you thought something was intruding on your thoughts, I've been watching you closely. Except for your home. Sickening energy hangs over it, a remnant of your parents' bitterness towards each other, I believe."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised you wouldn't want to be there." Scootaloo glanced out from underneath the bridge at the setting sun, which had just begun to touch the distant mountains. "I need to go. I guess I'll see you tomorrow if you're just gonna follow me everywhere."
"We'll see." Dreadwing watched the orange pegasus plod towards her home. A strange sensation he couldn't remember ever experiencing had wormed its way into his chest, but he ignored it for now. He finally had a lead on his little mystery, and countless new theories entered his mind as he followed her through the snow, invisible, but still there.
The Fifth of the Seventh Moon, year 1819 of Celestia's reign
Dreadwing flew behind the orange pegasus as she sped down the streets of Ponyville on her scooter. The bitter wind whipped past him, and despite being unable to freeze to death he still felt a chill ride up his spine. Winter had officially started and it seemed like the weather pegasi weren't going to hold back on the snow this time around.
"Come on! Can't you fly any faster?" Scootaloo called back at the large creature as she took a sharp turn.
"What would be the point of flying ahead if I'm just following you?" He replied.
Scootaloo shrugged. "Going fast is fun. Don't let me ruin it for you."
Dreadwing sighed and glanced up at the cloudy sky. "I don't take enjoyment from such things anymore. When you're as old as I am it's difficult to find joy in small comforts."
"That's sad. I'd hate to live so long I don't enjoy anything anymore. So how old are you, exactly?" Scootaloo asked.
"Well over a millennium. My first conscious day was in the year 583."
Scootaloo raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really? Wow. That's a long time." She slowed down slightly as they neared the bridge, her temporary place of comfort while she healed. The cause of her injuries were kept secret from Dreadwing, but he decided to not pry further.
The sound of squealing filled the air as Scootaloo skidded to a halt at the end of the bridge. She removed her helmet and walked down the slope to the river with Dreadwing close behind. They took up their usual spots on opposite sides of the frozen water and Scootaloo began aimlessly tracing lines in the ice next to her. "So why don't you appear to anypony else?"
Dreadwing settled himself down at the foot of the bridge and glanced at her. "Because they would scream and run away."
Scootaloo shook her head. "I know that, but there has to be another reason."
"Well..." Dreadwing shifted from his uncomfortable position. "What good would come of it? Even in the kindest regions of Equestria nopony has ever accepted me, even the ones who didn't flee. I got tired of trying after a couple hundred years."
"I accepted you for who you were."
Dreadwing scratched the side of his neck. "I know, but that's different. You said you had met monsters worse than I, so it makes sense that you would."
Scootaloo shrugged. "I guess so."
The two of them sat there for many long hours, just discussing whatever came to mind. Scootaloo always seemed to change the subject whenever it got to her situation at home, but Dreadwing didn't push her any further. It didn't seem like she was going to get her cutie mark any time soon, so he had plenty of time to figure out her secret.
When the sun began to sink low in the sky, Scootaloo stood up and stretched her cold limbs. "I'm gonna head home. See you in the morning."
Dreadwing nodded to her as she put her helmet on and hopped on her scooter. "See you."
A warmth spread through Dreadwing's chest as he watched the pony race down the street. He had encountered this unfamiliar feeling every day since appearing to her, and while he had an inkling as to what it was he didn't want to say for sure. From his experience, jumping to conclusions was never a good answer.
Dreadwing stared down at the orange filly with a bewildered look on his face. It was an exciting day for ponies, especially one so young, yet she had left home almost immediately after waking up. Did she not wish to spend time with her family? And why was she eagerly holding an object out towards him with a happy grin across her face?
Scootaloo cocked her head and pushed the object closer to Dreadwing. "What's wrong? Aren't you going to take it?"
"Okay." Dreadwing lifted one of his hands and delicately grabbed the offering. It was a small box sloppily wrapped in what appeared to be a sheet of notebook paper colored to look like wrapping paper. "What is this for?"
"Haven't you ever gotten a Hearth's Warming present before?" Scootaloo asked with a hint of surprise in her voice.
Dreadwing shook his massive head. "No. From the day of my birth, or creation, or however I got here, ponies have avoided me. Who would be around to give me a gift?"
Scootaloo sat on the cold ground and rested her back against the tree, below her usual hollow. "Not a single present?"
"Not one."
"That's sad." Scootaloo scratched the back of one foreleg through her worn coat, a habit Dreadwing hat noticed she had picked up over the past couple of weeks. It wasn't that she had an itch, she just did it to distract herself whenever her thoughts became troublesome. The skin around that area had become raw, and despite himself Dreadwing had begun to worry about her again.
"Do you not want to spend today with your parents? This is an important holiday for you ponies from what I have observed," Dreadwing asked curiously.
Scootaloo shook her head. "My parent's aren't big on celebrating much of anything. Holidays are just another excuse for them to get drunk. Well, drunker."
"They have a drinking problem? Is that why your parents are so tense?"
"That's one reason. Look, can we not talk about this today? I just wanted to have a happy Hearth's Warming for once," Scootaloo said with a hint of annoyance in her voice, which surprised Dreadwing. Something was happening at home that was affecting her behavior, and he wanted to find out what. However, he also wanted to respect her wishes, so he dropped the subject.
"Very well. We will find a more joyous subject."
Scootaloo nodded. "Good. Now aren't you going to open it?" she said with a gesture towards the present.
Dreadwing looked down at the object and observed it more closely. While sloppy, it seemed like the filly had put her best effort into it. It would be an insult to not accept the gift. He carefully peeled the tape back to reveal a small brown cardboard box, and inside he found a small knife he recognized as the one Scootaloo had almost used a few weeks prior. He frowned and held it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. "An odd gift. I mean no disrespect, but I have no use for this."
"It's less about the item and more the meaning behind it." Scootaloo shifted in her spot and smiled slightly. "You saved me that evening when you appeared in front of me. I'm giving you the knife so that you know for sure that I'll never use it."
Dreadwing glanced between her and the knife. "A meaningful gift. You recognized I have no need for material possessions and gave me this instead." A stream of magic flowed from him into the sharp tool, and as it turned to dust and floated away in the wind, he was sure he saw her smile deepen. "But what would you wish for in return?"
Scootaloo shook her head. "You already gave me a gift. The only thing I've ever wanted was a friend."
Dreadwing's eyes went wide at the word 'friend.' He had never expected a phrase like that to be uttered towards him, and it took a moment for him to regain his composure. "I could give you anything, any object you could wish for, yet you choose something as intangible as friendship. Why?"
"I don't know. I could have asked for something that would make my life easier or more fun, but no object would be able to make me feel as happy as you have."
Dreadwing stared at her for a long moment. Her maturity continued to surprise him time and time again, and during many of their conversations he had found himself forgetting she was so young. "You are a strange foal."
"I'm just how my situation has made me. I wouldn't be all that different from the others if I grew up normally."
The two of them sat in silence for a minute before Scootaloo reached into her bag and pulled out a small book. "Want to hear a story? My aunts used to read it to me all the time when I was younger, back when they still visited."
Dreadwing nodded and listened intently as she began the story. He had already heard the tale of Snowfall Frost hundreds of times, but he chose not to tell her. The presence of a friend made it so much more enjoyable this time around, and as that unexpected word continued reverberating through his soul, he smiled genuinely for the first time in his life.
The Forty-third of the First Moon, year 1820 of Celestia's reign
"Hey Dreadwing!" Scootaloo called on her way to school. Strangely she had opted to leave her scooter at home and was instead trotting happily down the narrow dirt path from her home.
"You are on hoof today," Dreadwing observed from his usual waiting spot at the end of the trail.
Scootaloo nodded. "Yeah. My scooter is having some problems so I'll have to walk for a while."
"That's too bad. I can fix it with my magic if you bring it to me."
"No thanks. I actually kind of want to try fixing it myself," she said with an oddly cheery note to her voice.
Dreadwing frowned as the filly walked past him, but he said nothing. There was something off about her mannerisms that morning, but he couldn't place his finger on what it was. He decided he would watch her more carefully that day to make sure it wasn't because of anything serious.
It was serious. Or, so it seemed to Dreadwing. Something had happened to Scootaloo between the previous evening and that morning, he was sure of it. Every smile was forced, each word too polite, and while it might have seemed to most that she was happier than normal, the link they shared told a different story. The unintentional mental wall she always had around her darker thoughts was bristling quite violently, and she was trying harder than usual to keep herself from breaking down. As well as this, her promise to Dreadwing was circling through her mind unusually frequently.
"Should I follow her home?" he thought as he watched her head home that night. He shivered at the thought of entering that gloomy house again. "No. I do not believe it is necessary for such actions yet, but I must keep a watchful eye over her in the coming time. Something is changing, and I do not think it is for the better."
The Forty-eigth of the First Moon, year 1820 of Celestia's reign
Dreadwing heard the familiar sound of light footsteps behind him and turned to greet Scootaloo as usual, but was taken aback by her appearance. Her mane, while normally a little messy, was instead an unkempt mess, she staggered along the dirt path like some drunkard, and perhaps the most perplexing thing was the defacing black mark around one of her eyes. Accompanying her appearance was an equally unusual feeling of despair he had not sensed in her for months.
"What happened to you?" He wondered aloud.
Scootaloo shrugged. "I fell down the stairs from our attic this morning."
"The attic? What were you doing in there?"
"I was just grabbing something. I'm fine, really. It's nothing too serious," Scootaloo said dismissively. By now Dreadwing had known her long enough that he wasn't going to get any more information out of her, either through words or thoughts. He detected guilt during their conversation, leading him to catch her lies. Even so, he decided against confronting her. Scootaloo was a stubborn pony who didn't want to admit her problems, and there was nothing to gain from listening. He would have to figure it out for himself.
The day went on fairly normally. A few of the other students at school were curious about Scootaloo's injuries, but they all fell for her lies, including Cheerilee. Dreadwing could sense her guilt growing with each retelling of the façade, and he knew she could not go through many more school days in a similar situation. It was something he was strongly against as the murk surrounding Scootaloo's home made it unbearably unpleasant, but he knew he had to find out what was going on in that building once and for all. He could not let her suffer any longer. For his friend, he would do anything.
Dreadwing waved goodbye that night and watched Scootaloo head home. She had left a few minutes earlier than usual, to account for her slowed travel she said. A sigh escaped his large black beak as she disappeared from his sight, and he used his magic to make himself invisible to her once again. He needed to observe her in secret if he was to discover the truth.
Halfway down the path to her house, Scootaloo suddenly turned off into the woods, making Dreadwing frown. Why was she not going home? Had she seen something in the trees? No, he could sense no curiosity or excitement from the filly's mind. In fact, she was continuing on as if this were part of her usual schedule. What business did she have in the middle of the forest when the sun was sinking past the mountains?
It took Dreadwing a few minutes to realize Scootaloo's intentions. She had settled into the hollow underneath a large tree's roots and was sitting silently, gazing out into the forest. For what reason he was not certain. If he had to guess, she was merely passing the time and trying to avoid going home for as long as possible. Why she would keep this from him he did not know. Dreadwing already knew her home wasn't a cheerful place to be, and he would have happily waited for her as long as she wanted. However, she seemed to want this moment peacefully to herself, so he relented and allowed her the time.
The full moon was nearing its peak when Scootaloo finally arose and walked down the path to her home. There was a sense of determination about her, as if that entire time was spent steeling her courage to enter the foul building. She strode quietly through the front door and shut it silently behind her.
Dreadwing glanced up at the moon after the orange pegasus disappeared into the dark space. "Midnight," he thought to himself. The passage of time was inconsequential to him, yet he still kept track of it. He didn't know why. He wasn't sure why he had decided to interfere in this pony's life, either. Maybe it was curiosity, boredom, or something else. Either way, he knew he needed to protect his friend from whatever awaited her.
Dreadwing took a deep breath, prepared himself for the darkness that awaited, and stepped through the wall straight into Scootaloo's room.
The First of the Second Moon, year 1820 of Celestia's reign
Dreadwing blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dark room and dreary atmosphere. He had entered into Scootaloo's bedroom, which was quite bare. The only items in it were an old bed, a small dresser, her broken scooter, and a single lightbulb that hung from a wire in the ceiling. The filly had said her scooter was having problems, but it looked to Dreadwing as if it were smashed deliberately. "How odd," he thought to himself.
A loud squeak echoed through the building as the door to Scootaloo's room swung open. It froze at the sudden noise, and when the sound of heavy hoofsteps began to echo down the hall the orange pegasus bolted inside and slammed the door shut behind her. Dreadwing felt terror rapidly build up in her mind as she leaned back against the door in an attempt to hold it shut, which perplexed him.
Scootaloo held her breath as the hoofsteps came to a stop in front of her door. The doorknob slowly began to turn, and when the pony on the other side began to open it, the filly pushed back with all of her strength. There was a grunt from the other side of the door, followed by a scratchy voice. "You wanna do this again? Have it your way." There was a brief pause before the door was flung open and Scootaloo went skidding a few feet along the floor. In the empty frame stood a light brown earth pony with a short purple mane and gray eyes. And he looked angry.
This pony, Scootaloo's father, reeked of alcohol. Dreadwing had never smelled the stench so strong on anypony before, and he barely managed to stifle a gag at the suffocating air. The pony snorted and marched into the room, straight to Scootaloo. "And just what do you think you're doing, coming home so late?"
Scootaloo swallowed and glanced up at the sorry excuse of a stallion. "I was just... riding my scooter. I lost track of time."
The pony stamped a hoof sharply against the floor and Scootaloo let out a yelp. "Bullshit! We both know you can't ride now, I made sure of that last time. Because you weren't here there wasn't anypony to make dinner."
"I'm sorry," Scootaloo whimpered pitifully.
"You will be." The pony reared back with one foreleg with such malice in his eyes that Dreadwing had never seen. Nothing compared to the pure evil in this being's heart. Not Discord, not Tirek, not even Grogar could match this unreasonable malevolence. Despite his own warped morality, Dreadwing was taken aback by this cold aura. So much so that he very nearly failed to react in time.
Scootaloo flinched back as the large hoof halted a hair's breadth from her muzzle. As Dreadwing had not chosen to appear to her she could not see him, but her father could. He snorted after he glanced up at the massive creature that held his foreleg firmly in one of his clawed hands. "What a shitty costume. Get out of my house before I crush your skull in."
Dreadwing tightened his hand around the pony's foreleg. "No. Your time has come, filth."
The pony screamed as Dreadwing crushed his foreleg effortlessly in his grasp, as if it were no stronger than a toothpick. He then flung the stallion upwards by his broken limb, using his magic to make the pony phase through the ceiling and into the attic, where a dull thud could be heard as he hit the ceiling. As much relief as Scootaloo would probably feel once her father was dead, Dreadwing felt she did not need to see such things. He would not scar his friend that way.
Dreadwing flew upwards and phased into the attic. Before the stallion had even hit the floor the creature was upon him, pinning him by his neck to the angled ceiling. The pony's eyes bulged out and his forelegs fumbled vainly against the far stronger being.
"Be glad I only kill you. If I weren't so merciful I would keep you alive for years and torture you the way you have your daughter." Dreadwing tightened his cold grip around the stallion's throat and grunted in satisfaction as he felt the pony's windpipe crush flat against his thumb.
The stallion's struggles grew weaker and more ineffectual as he began to slip into unconsciousness. Once there, Dreadwing would happily snap his neck and dispose of the body.
The ladder at the end of the small room slid to the floor of the hallway below, and Dreadwing turned his head at the noise. Having expected Scootaloo's mother to come to her husband's aid he readied his magic, but stopped when the young filly herself raced up into the attic and turned to find her father pinned against the ceiling by an invisible force. She paused for a second, confused, before she remembered Dreadwing's magic and looked in his general area.
"Please don't do this, Dreadwing," she said with an odd hint of panic in her voice.
Dreadwing appeared to her and frowned. "Why not? He is the reason of your despair, correct? From what I saw, there is no other explanation."
"He is, and I know he's terrible and I'd be happy if I never had to see him again, but you shouldn't kill him."
"But for years he has beaten you and done as he pleased. Would he not be better off dead?" Dreadwing asked in perplexation.
Scootaloo shook her head. "The worth of his life isn't up to me or you. I've thought about killing him in his sleep, but I was never willing to accept what that would cause for me." She sighed. "It isn't you. I know you're not a murderer. Think about what this would do to your mind."
Dreadwing scowled and turned back to the stallion. His face had turned beet-red and his hooves were barely tapping against his attacker anymore. "How is this not who I am? I'm a monster. I have no business worrying about morality. I shouldn't have even been able to befriend you."
"But you're not a monster. Remember that day under the bridge when I told you I had met a real monster? Well, you're looking at him. You'd never intentionally hurt anyone, and that's why I wanted to be friends with you. What matters is who you are on the inside, not your appearance or your abilities."
Dreadwing felt a lump form in his throat as he realized the truth of her words. As much as he wanted to hold firm to the image of himself he had built up over his long lifespan, there was no denying it. He hadn't injured anypony. He hadn't tried to take over Equestria and rule it with an iron fist. He had simply existed, forced to be content with the life he had been given. It wasn't him. Murder wasn't something he could do.
The stallion gasped in a breath as Dreadwing relaxed his grip so that it was loose enough to allow air into his lungs, but not enough to let the pony to the floor. Dreadwing brought his beak next to the pony's ear and spoke in a growl that he was sure would stick in the scum's mind forever. "If you value your worthless life, listen very carefully to my words. I will be watching over this filly from now on. If you touch her again, or even so much as glance at her with ill intent in your heart, I'll happily shatter another of your legs. Understand?"
The pony nodded weakly and Dreadwing allowed him to collapse to the floor, where he lay gasping for breath. Scootaloo smiled up at the creature as he walked over to her. "'Told you you're not a monster."
Dreadwing smiled at the filly and ruffled her hair. "It's amazing, everything I have learned from you. You are more mature than most grown ponies I have seen."
"I guess that'll happen to ponies in my situation."
Dreadwing nodded and led Scootaloo back down the ladder. "Come. It is late, and you must sleep. I will watch over you tonight."
The door swung shut as the two of them entered Scootaloo's room. She crawled into bed and pulled the covers up around herself, suddenly realizing just how tired she was. "Thank you," she said as her eyes began to flutter closed.
"Anything for a friend." Dreadwing took a seat on the floor and leaned back against the wall. It was strange to not believe himself to be a monster anymore. Instead, he was finally starting to view himself with some value. Dreadwing smiled to himself. Never in his existence had he thought he could make a friend. He wasn't sure Scootaloo would ever understand just how drastically she had changed him, but he would be eternally grateful.
The Twenty-second of the Third Moon, year 1820 of Celestia's reign
Scootaloo trotted happily up the hill with Dreadwing not far behind. She began making her way up her usual tree, but stopped just below her hollow when she noticed something. While normally empty, a bird's nest now occupied the hole in the wood. Inside of it she could see a small clutch of eggs that gleamed in the setting sun, and she felt a strange twinge of joy. "Hey, come look at this," she called out to the creature.
Dreadwing floated up from his spot on the ground and raised an eyebrow at the sight. "Interesting. Would you like me to move it somewhere else? I can do so without disturbing them."
Scootaloo shook her head. "No, let's just leave them." She smiled as she began climbing back down to the ground. "I don't really need that hollow, anyway."
"Very well." Dreadwing followed Scootaloo as she walked back down the hill. "Where will we go now? The water underneath the bridge is no longer frozen."
Scootaloo shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we can just walk around outside of town for a while." She glanced at the sun, which had begun to sink in the evening sky. "I'm really glad I was able to make some new friends today."
Dreadwing nodded to her as he thought back to the events from earlier that day. She and another pony, Sweetie Bell, had stood up for a fellow markless pony named Apple Bloom. The three had instantly become friends, and Dreadwing was almost as happy about it as Scootaloo. "It's a good thing to have more friends, especially seeing as I won't be here forever."
"But why not?" Scootaloo asked with a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Because I cannot sustain myself from the energy of a pony with a cutie mark, remember? Once that happens I will need to find a new host, otherwise I could end up hurting you or your friends."
"Oh. Right, I forgot." Scootaloo sighed and glanced out at the distant line of trees. "We'll figure something out, don't worry."
Dreadwing shook his head, but said nothing. With how Scootaloo had changed his pessimistic views, he wasn't sure he could carry on the way he used to. He honestly wasn't sure what to do when the time came for him to leave. Stealing the happiness from foals was an appalling idea to him now.
Scootaloo stopped walking when the reached the lake and craned her neck to look at a nearby tree. This one also had a cavity in it, albeit too small to accommodate a pony. "I'm actually kind of glad that hollow got filled. I don't have to go back there anymore."
"But why? It was a good place to rest," Dreadwing asked with his head cocked slightly.
"Because of the memories. I threw myself from it a couple of times, hoping I'd break my neck and not have to deal with my parents anymore. Luckily I survived, or none of this would have ever happened," Scootaloo said with a calm, blissful smile.
Dreadwing nodded. "I guess it is necessary to experience pain to know happiness. The two of us have had our fair share of the former." Scootaloo's smile deepened, but she remained quiet. After a moment they continued walking in silence, taking in the peaceful nature around them.
"It's almost strange, sensing so little distress in her mind now," Dreadwing thought. It had only been a little under a moon and a half, and yet the young filly was barely recognizable. He smiled to himself. Seeing her become so carefree had improved his mood as well, and he was happy to see her shift into the normal life she should have had. It was the first time he had ever felt fulfilled in life.
The Forty-seventh of the Fifth Moon, year 1820 of Celestia's reign
"This is great! Can you believe it? I finally got my cutie mark!" Scootaloo exclaimed. Sweetie Bell and Apple Bloom were off in the distance, preoccupied with another group of ponies. She had moved far enough away so that she could talk to Dreadwing without looking like she was crazy.
The creature smiled and reached down to ruffle the filly's purple hair. "Congratulations. Now you can live a happy life, helping other ponies to find their purpose," he said with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"I know, right? It's gonna be awesome!" Scootaloo turned to trot away excitedly, not having noticed Dreadwing's sorrow. When he didn't follow, the orange pegasus turned around with a look of confusion on her face. "Aren't you coming?"
Dreadwing sighed and glanced out at the tree line. "I can't stay. The energy of a pony who has earned their cutie mark isn't enough to sustain me, remember?"
Scootaloo's shoulders drooped as that memory came to mind. "Oh yeah. I forgot about that." She was silent for a moment and opened her mouth to suggest an idea, but Dreadwing's head was shaking before she even opened her mouth.
"I don't know if I can absorb the happiness from foals anymore, not after everything we've been through. It just doesn't feel right anymore. Even if I stayed here and linked to another blank flank, I wouldn't feel content."
"I guess not." Scootaloo sat on the ground and sighed. "Is there really nothing you can do? We've been through so much together. I know I've made more friends, but they can't replace you," she said sadly as her eyes began to water.
Dreadwing kneeled down next to Scootaloo and placed a clawed hand on her shoulder. "And they don't have to. Even if I'm not here anymore, the memories we made will never go away."
Scootaloo nodded forlornly. "I know. It's just going to hurt for a while." She sniffed and smiled slightly at the large creature. "At least you can go out and help other foals now. You could be like an honorary member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders."
Dreadwing frowned. He had been avoiding thinking about his future, mostly because he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Scootaloo's suggestion was such an obvious one, so how had he not thought of it sooner? Helping her along the past year has made him so happy, being able to see her progression. He smiled back at her. "I hadn't actually thought of that. I guess your cutie mark really does fit you."
"I guess so." Scootaloo reached up and wrapped her forelegs around Dreadwing's neck. "I'm gonna miss you."
"And I you." Dreadwing held her tight for a moment. Having never had a friend before, he hadn't realized just how painful leaving would be until now. It was like a tugging pain on his heart, knowing that he had to leave behind this filly that had become like a sister to him. But they both knew he had to.
Dreadwing stood up after a much too short minute and smiled sadly at Scootaloo. "I'll try to visit sometime. I can't stray too far from my host, but I can always pop in for a day or so when I'm not attached to anypony."
"That would be great." Scootaloo took a step back and wiped the tears that had begun to form from her eyes. "That's a promise, then?"
Dreadwing nodded. "It's a promise. See you around, Scootaloo."
"See you." Scootaloo turned and walked back over to her friends, who had just finished up their business.
"I guess that's it, then. Time to find another foal who needs my help," Dreadwing thought as he watched the orange filly with her friends. "I guess I'm not a monster after all."
The creature blinked as his mind came back to the present time. Not even a second had passed while he had been reminiscing, and when he turned to look, he saw the small entourage still walking down the road in the setting sun. He smiled to himself and turned towards a small tree not far from where he was standing. There was a hollow about head-height for a pony, and he reached in and placed his leather journal in it. Maybe one day somepony would discover it and learn of his existence, as he no longer had any need for it.
Movement out of the corner of the creature's eye caught his attention, and when he turned to look he saw a duo of sparrows flying through the air. He smiled to himself, already thinking ahead to his new plan for the future. It was easy to tell there wasn't another pony in Ponyville who needed his help, as his magic would have alerted him to the deep negative emotions. However, large cities were always full of anger and despair, which was why he tended to avoid such places. Maybe he would try there next.
The creature glanced up at the orange sky. It was almost tempting to stay, but he knew his purpose now. Nothing made him happier than aiding foals in need, and that was what he planned to do. He nodded to himself and shivered slightly at the negative emotions that assaulted him as he teleported to the center of Manehattan. He could detect countless young colts and fillies in less than happy states, and a particularly distressed one caught his attention, not unlike the way Scootaloo had all those moons ago. The creature rolled his shoulders in determination. He had a lot of work ahead of him.
