Scootaloo glared down at the empty glass in front of her, her wings buzzing occasionally with her displeasure.
When she was younger, she’d loved dressing up for Nightmare Night. But now that she was older it felt childish to parade around Ponyville in costume. Of course there were plenty of others at Pinkie’s Solstice celebration who were dressed for the occasion. Scootaloo hadn’t bothered.
She took her empty glass, wandering past the dance floor to the bar. Pinkie Pie stared from behind the counter, raising an eyebrow at her as she approached. “A mare your size shouldn’t have any more,” she said. “A little is nice for a party, but too much and you won’t be able to remember it!”
Her wings buzzed in agitation on her back. “I don’t want to remember it,” she said. “Come on.”
Pinkie took the glass, spinning it once as she settled it under a tap. “Why? Shouldn’t you be celebrating? Where are your friends? You three were always together.”
“Sweetie’s in Canterlot training with the Royal Choir.” She glanced around the ballroom, filled as it was with smoke and spooky lanterns. It only took her a second to confirm what she suspected. “And Apple Bloom is with Tender Taps.”
Pinkie settled the full glass on the counter between them, sliding it away as Scootaloo reached for it. “I know parties, Scootaloo. And let me tell you, you are being a party pooper. There’s always a reason, maybe I can help.”
“Just… upset about things I can’t change. I’m supposed to be happy for my friends, but how can I feel it?” She spread her wings. “I can’t even fly.”
Pinkie didn’t wave her off. Instead she lifted something green out from under the counter, dropping it in the glass. It started to bubble and fizz as she pushed it back towards Scootaloo. “You’re not upset with your friends, you’re upset with yourself. You see they’ve achieved their dreams, and you haven’t changed. It feels like you’re the failure.”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo took the glass, taking a long swig. It burned going down her throat, with a heat that was far stronger than cheap cider. But draining the glass wasn’t taking away the edge, but bringing it back. Clarity came back to her, restoring the thumping music and awkward conversations on the dance floor, reminding her of all the eyes on her. “How do you know?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been there before.”
“What can I do? I don’t have big dreams like my friends. I don’t have a farm to retire to, and I don’t want to go to Broadway. The only thing I want, I can’t have.”
Pinkie nodded gravely. “You know what day it is?”
She raised an eyebrow. But Scootaloo no longer felt drunk. “Nightmare Night?”
“That’s what ponies call it now. But really, we’re not celebrating Nightmare Moon. We’re celebrating one season changing into another. Autumn turns into winter. Old things die, new things are born.”
Scootaloo only stared. If she was supposed to be getting something from this, she was missing it.
“If there’s something about yourself you’re trying to change, tonight’s a good night for it,” Pinkie finished. “But it’s always dangerous. Old trees have to die for new saplings to grow. That’s always how it is.”
“I’d do anything. But there’s nothing I can do.” She tilted the glass back, glaring. “You’re talking this bartender thing very seriously.” I didn’t know you could be so deep.
“Thank you.” Pinkie took the glass, though this time she only filled it with water. “Things are different on the Equinox. Worlds that were far apart get close together, and there’s magic in the middle. Maybe you can find what you’re looking for.”
“Where?”
Pinkie pointed with one hoof, out the window towards the Everfree. “There. If you see pieces of things that never were, you’re on the right track. But… make sure it’s what you want to do. Like I said, ponies don’t always come back.”
There was no reason to stick around for Apple Bloom, her friend was already gone.
Pinkie knew something. Scootaloo couldn’t say why she trusted her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right.
She slipped onto the path a minute later, past harvest lanterns with their candles burned down. She passed Fluttershy’s cottage on her right, firelight still flickering from inside. And beyond it… the Everfree.
Her wings lifted behind her, catching the chill autumn breeze. But her hooves remained firmly planted. She’d learned when she was still a filly that being big wasn’t enough to fly.
Maybe tonight things will be different. There’s magic in Equestria to fix things that are broken. As she walked, she considered just how different her life would be once she could fly. She’d be brave enough to ask out that special somepony. She wouldn’t apply to the Wonderbolts, but she’d be able to get a weather job.
She was so caught up in her own thoughts she barely even watched the trail in front of her, until one of her hooves caught on a length of vine emerging from the ground. She squealed in surprise, wings buzzing in vain to stop her. They did absolutely nothing to slow her down as she rolled down over the edge.
At least she had experience with crashes like this, and so she tucked her head, using her forelegs to protect herself. A few moments and she finally came to a stop, smashing up into something hard and metallic.
Scootaloo groaned, rolling onto her back and looking up at the sky. This is your fault, wings. I should’ve just flown out. The trees overhead were totally unfamiliar. How far had she fallen?
This is the Everfree. I can’t stay here. She rolled onto her hooves, shaking away the disorientation as best she could.
Scootaloo scanned her surroundings, searching for the way back. She was at the bottom of a low valley, with trees and rocky slope extending all the way up towards the full moon. There were ruined walls here, a structure lost to time. I’m already near the Castle of the Two Sisters? Buck me I shouldn’t drink so much.
Am I on the right track, Pinkie? Scootaloo turned along the sturdiest section of wall, and followed it into the gloom. At least if this was part of the castle, she could find the trail again.
Somewhere far away, the baying of a wolf broke through the chirping of crickets and calling of owls, making Scootaloo freeze momentarily as she listened. She sped into a trot, her wings now constantly extended with stress and fear.
The wall led directly to a nearly-intact face of a building, with huge stairs leading down into the stone. Then it ended, without any trace of the rest of the castle. Well buck.
Scootaloo stopped at the top of the stairs, glaring down into the gloom. She could feel something down there, like a pressure against the air.
Maybe if she’d had less to drink, she might’ve turned around. I haven’t found my magic yet.
As she made her way down into the gloom, she found the ceiling high and vaulted, tall enough that even an Alicorn would seem small. At least the strange stone reflected moonlight from behind her, so she didn’t have to wander in total darkness.
I’m just looking for something to point back towards the Castle.
It didn’t take her much longer to find a promising lead: a distant flash of light, bobbing tentatively up and down.
“Hello?” Scootaloo called. She took a few steps towards it, and suddenly it moved away from her. Was there a creature holding it, or was it just the darkness playing tricks on her?
A few more steps forward, and she started galloping. She wasn’t going to let another pony get away from her, not when she needed the help so badly! “Wait for me! I’m looking for help with my wings! Pinkie Pie said—”
Light burst from the end of the cavern, bright enough that she slid to a stop. It crashed down on her like a terrible wave, swallowing her in sudden numbness.
For the second time that night, Scootaloo was on her back in the dirt, moaning with pain. This time was far worse than rolling down a hill. Now her whole body ached, throbbing along to her own heartbeat along sensations that didn’t make sense.
It was a little like the last time she’d wished to be big. She felt elongated, particularly her legs, but in other ways things made even less sense. Her coat felt strangely unprotected against the stone floor, with little bits of rock and debris pressing painfully into her flesh. And it might be autumn, but the night hadn’t felt so cold before.
“Are you dead?” asked a voice. “Please don’t be dead. I was just defending myself.”
She groaned in reply, trying to sit up. But her back rebelled, and instead all she did was flop around for a bit, dragging something strange against the floor as she did.
Her hooves felt so… wrong. They were the most stretched of all, trailing sensation so acute she could feel every inch of the floor. Every crack in the cement, every pebble and bit of straw.
A figure spoke from above her, the same outline she’d glimpsed dimly through the gloom. “Good. You’re, uh…oh. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” It was so dark, Scootaloo could barely see anything. But there was light at the far end of the hall, and a set of repeating hoofsteps.
She tried to sit up again, this time pressing her forelegs up against the ground… and she managed to lift herself up. Her body wobbled for a moment, under an unfamiliar center of gravity. There was a weight to her that hadn’t been there before—her wings were heavier! Also… something was on her front?
Curious, she reached down, feeling with a foreleg. Weirdly stretched limbs could be good for something.
Then her face went bright red. She knew what those were, though she couldn’t say why they’d be so high up. I’m never gonna have foals, why would they be so big? She groaned, feeling the weight settle back under her as she let go. That was going to be annoying if she galloped.
They’re the only one who knows what’s going on. Maybe they can help me.
Scootaloo leaned forward, resting her forelegs under her. Her sensitive paws didn’t seem to want to move that way, and her back creaked unhappily. But she made it a few steps forward.
“Wait!” she called, as loud as she dared. “Don’t leave me down here!”
Something slammed up ahead—a door. With it, the last of the light went out.
But Scootaloo didn’t continue for much longer before dropping to the ground in despair, slumping against the wall. At least it didn’t hurt so much to sit like that. She shivered in the cold, clutching her forelegs around her chest. She didn’t seem to have fur anymore, which explained why she felt so cold. And why it hurt to sit on the ground.
Her legs bent in ways she didn’t expect, so long she could barely keep track of where they were going. How am I supposed to move like this?
Cold, alone, and helpless, Scootaloo did something she never would’ve let anypony see her do: cry. She sniffed, fought it every second, told herself she was too old and too brave to cry. But she did it anyway, there in that cavern where she didn’t belong.
But then the door opened again, and that towering figure emerged from the light there, clutching something against it. It moved forward, surprisingly well-balanced for those gangly little legs. Finally it stopped, close enough to attack.
“This is when you get me, right?” Scootaloo croaked, wiping the tears from her eyes. “For… invading your burial ground or whatever?”
The voice giggled, as high and musical as Sweetie Belle. “I’m not dead yet. You might be if you stay like that for much longer, uh… whatever you were.” She moved, tossing something gently at her. It landed on her legs in several pieces—bits of cloth. “You look about my size. Good thing too, since it’s been bloody ages since I’ve found new clothes. You’re stuck with seconds until we find more.”
Something glowed from in front of her, hanging over Scootaloo in the air. Not the tip of her horn, though—it was in her hand. A flashlight, though it was the smallest she’d ever seen. A tiny piece of metal between two fingers lit up brighter than an oil lamp. “That is assuming I’m not just hearing things. If I just wasted all that power on a wild animal, and I didn’t hear you talking to me… please tell me I’m not an idiot.”
As Scootaloo’s eyes cleared, she finally got a good look at the creature in her own glow. Furless skin like her own, though her hair was brown and plain. There was something pretty about her, in a way that she couldn’t have explained ten minutes ago. Graceful, confident, and with a larger chest than Scootaloo’s. She also wasn’t naked, but dressed in scraps of sturdy cloth, looking like they’d been patched together from a dozen different hand-me-downs.
“I’m getting blank stares, so I’m going to guess this was a waste.” The stranger reached down one graceful arm, settling it on the pile of cloth. “I’m just going to… take this before you eat it.”
“No!” Scootaloo finally said. “I mean… no, it wasn’t a waste.” She pulled back, holding it up against her chest. Not that she usually felt even a little bit embarrassed not wearing clothes, but… this stranger blushed whenever she looked, and that made Scootaloo share some of her feelings. “I can talk.”
“Thank god.” The stranger relaxed, and the light dimmed between her fingers. “I’m sorry about the… whatever I did to you? Unless maybe I lifted an evil curse, in which case you can Venmo me.” Then she turned away, taking her little glow with her.
“Wait!” she tried to rise, but of course she didn’t know how the stranger was walking. She could only watch as she retreated, balanced strangely on two legs.
“I thought you’d want some privacy.” She stopped, facing her. “Since you’re, uh… do you care? I didn’t get a good look at you before, but I didn’t see any clothes. Maye you’re like… half animal? I’m afraid the clothes are non-negotiable if you’re with me.”
She tossed something onto the ground in front of her—the strangely compact flashlight, which kept shining up at Scootaloo’s face. “So you can see what you’re doing. You can come into camp once you put that on.”
She left.
Scootaloo turned, staring down at the outfit the stranger had given her. Sweetie Belle would know where all this goes. She perched the light on the ground beside her, then took the bundle and stood up.
It wasn’t anything like she felt as a pony. Her whole body listed to one side, and she only just caught herself on the wall before tumbling. The best she could manage. The soft little pieces went on first, causing her more struggle. At least the creatures had some way of dealing with all the extra weight on top.
She’d worn skirts a few times, even if they weren’t her favorite, so she knew how to put that on. She was fairly certain she did the top upside-down once before realizing from the size of the holes how it was meant to go. Unfortunately for her, it clearly hadn’t been made for the oversized wings sprouting from her back. Her feathers jostled and strained against the cloth, but it held. Maybe I can ask for a pegasus shirt.
On the bottom were the strangest things: shoes. She lifted one in hand, feeling the strange material. Soft and flexible, obviously meant to wrap around her feet. The idea of horseshoes already gave her nightmares, and these things felt much weaker.
The more of it she put on, the more confident she felt. It didn’t fit as securely as anything Rarity might’ve made for her, but it seemed to belong.
Scootaloo had balanced on her hindlegs before, and often. She’d used the stance whenever riding on her scooter, using her wings to push her. But the scooter’s own weight made that possible, giving her something secure to lean on.
But as she stood, she found the body almost seemed to know what it was doing on its own. Her spine wanted to be straight, and her single set of legs settled under her. If anything, it felt a little like flying, letting her momentum carry her from one gradual forward step into the next.
Finally she reached the door, still holding the strange creature’s flashlight. “Hey, uh… I think I’m finished? Though I’m not a fan of what it does to my wings. And realistically, I’d like it better if you just changed me back.”
The door opened, and there was the creature leaning against the frame. Shorter than Scootaloo now that she knew how to stand. She still seemed embarrassed, but the sensation was harder to spot.
Somehow her strangeness made her look cuter. A little nub of a nose, big blue eyes, and a mischievous grin that she’d probably taken on all kinds of adventures before today.
“You can dress yourself, that’s good.” She snatched the flashlight from Scootaloo, tucking it away into her patchwork outfit. Then she opened the door wide, showing Scootaloo what lurked beyond. “I don’t have much, but me casa es tu casa. Survivors should stick together, even if I… blasted you.”
Just past her was a camp of sorts, secure enough to suggest that she’d been here for some time. There was a little fire burning, and a tent, and a few large bags of supplies.
She gestured towards the circle of rubble around the fire, settling down onto one of the stumps. “I guess this is where I try and figure out how you got into the Irkalla. I haven’t seen anyone else down here in so long.”
The heat of the fire was so welcoming, a gentle warmth that surrounded her as she approached. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was a little lost, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of where this is. The Everfree forest. And this is the Castle of the Two Sisters.”
She wobbled over towards a broken chair by one side, one that looked tall enough to support her oversized body. She wrapped her spidery digits around the outside, then held on tight as she settled into place. She squirmed and struggled, not really fitting in the chair.
The stranger giggled, voice light and friendly. “That’s not how you sit. You can’t sit like a… whatever you were.”
She moved past her, pulling over the other chair and flopping into it, letting her legs dangle in front while her back remained straight behind her. “See? You’re gonna throw your back out contorting like that.”
Scootaloo moved to imitate her, pushing back with her legs and trying to rise into a standing position. Something snapped, and the old wood collapsed under her, spilling her to the dirty floor with her oversized legs splayed.
Now this was a feeling she knew well—feeling vulnerable and stupid in front of someone pretty. Here would come the laughter.
“Here,” she felt a hand on her shoulder, and another one on one of her legs. “Like this. Fuck if I’d know what to do with the wrong number of legs. Just get your back straight and sit up, and… it should be easier to move from there.”
Scootaloo nodded, and almost cried again. She shifted uncomfortably, as her wings strained against the shirt. “You don’t have any clothes for a pegasus, do you? My back is already sweaty as buck like this.”
“Do I…” her eyes narrowed, and she pushed on the fabric with one hand. “I thought you might have a Hunchback of Notre-Dame thing going on. But I’d rather go for angel anyway. Much cuter.” She reached down her belt, removing something metal in one hand. A complex, interlocking knife, which she flipped out to reveal a blade. “I’ll cut the shirt, hold still.”
Scootaloo froze, entirely out of fear. It wasn’t that the smudges on her face made her seem rugged and brave, or that she’d somehow found a way to make a skirt look graceful and confident. Nothing like that.
She probed with two fingers, feeling along the edges of Scootaloo’s wings for where they joined her back. A little like what Rarity might’ve done if she were in this position, though with far less delicacy.
“We’ll need to cut here and… here.” She brought down the knife, then again. Scootaloo expected something to slice into her wings by accident, or stick her in the neck, but the stranger was careful.
Then she felt paws on her wings, cool against the warmth that had been there moments before, guiding them through the cloth one at a time. “There, how’s that? Comfortable?”
She spread her wings reflexively, though she managed to keep them from buzzing. They felt so… big, compared to what she was used to. It wasn’t hard for them to seem big when her body felt so thin and fragile.
“Better,” she admitted. “Though I’d really rather you just fix me. Then I can help, uh… guide you to Equestria. I assume a wizard hiding in the ruins is probably looking to meet with Princess Twilight, right? You’ll be an ambassador from another realm or whatever.”
“That would be great,” the creature said. “If it was possible. But I don’t think that’s how it works.” She sat back down, returning an old pan to the fire. “I’m sorry you ended up in here. Irkalla is awful and I don’t know if there is a way out. We can go from one section to another, from one danger to another. But not back.”
“Let’s… I think we’re going too fast,” Scootaloo said, settling reluctantly on one of the old stumps. “I’m Scootaloo. How about you start by changing me back into a pegasus? I can’t go back like this.” She stretched out one of her forelegs for emphasis. “These paws are so delicate! I’ll break them for sure.”
“Hands,” the girl corrected. “I’m Emily, and your nickname is adorable.”
Scootaloo blushed, but folded her forelegs to glare. She wasn’t going to look away until the mage-creature explained how she was going to fix her.
After a few nervous moments of shifting in her seat, Emily said. “I, uh… And my magical skills aren’t… really all that impressive.”
She stirred whatever she was cooking, probably just for an excuse to look away from Scootaloo. “I didn’t have much magic at all before I came here, actually. Blood of Atlantis, they said. Bloody useless, I say. My big brother gets all the magic and all I can do is balance a checkbook. Ever heard of a magical accountant?”
“You changed me into a…”
“Human,” Emily finished. “And yeah, sorta. But I don’t really know how I do it. My magic is like a… nervous reaction. It sorta comes out when it wants.”
“Well use it again,” Scootaloo said, exasperated. “Just point it at me like before. It can’t be that hard.”
“No, but…” she winced. “I don’t really have any way of controlling it. You came running at me, and I felt like I was in danger, and I reacted. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Scootaloo fell silent, and stayed that way for several thoughtful minutes. “I guess we’ll have to talk to the princess then. If anyone can fix a magical mistake like this, it would be her.”
“Sure,” Emily said. “If you know the way out of here… I don’t care how many fairytale princess and magical unicorns it takes. I just don’t think there’s a way out.”
“Nonsense.” Scootaloo rose to her feet, wobbling a little as she did so. But her wings spread, and at least that was enough to help her maintain her balance. “Maybe you were stuck before, but now you’ve got me! I’ll get us out.”
“You’re my angel, huh?” Emily tilted her head slightly to the side. “Well, you’re pretty enough. Maybe you’re right. Just let me finish eating, then we’ll break camp. You don’t mind helping me carry things, do you? Good.”
“I never…” But she didn’t argue. She wasn’t quite sure what Emily had meant, but it had seemed like a compliment. Why couldn’t I be as brave as you back in Equestria?
Emily took everything apart with fluid gestures, like something she’d done hundreds of times. All her camp furniture went into a heavy pack and a smaller bag with rugged wheels, which she offered to Scootaloo.
“I’ve been here for too long anyway,” Emily said. “Either you can lead me out of the Irkalla at last, or…” she shook her head. “At least you’re easy on the eyes.”
Scootaloo’s wings folded to her back, and she almost dropped the bag. “You’re just… you’re just gonna talk like that?”
“Yeah?” Emily tossed the flashlight up and down in her fingers. “It’s called flirting, and I haven’t had another living soul to try it on for…” she glanced down at her fingers, counting off for a bit. “Uh… forever. Let’s just go with forever.”
Is it weird if I think she’s pretty? Scootaloo took the lead, back the way she’d came. She wouldn’t call what she was doing a proper canter, or even a trot. But she watched Emily move a bit, and tried to imitate her. Instead of using her second set of limbs, she swung them, did her best to ignore the other things that swung, and occasionally caught herself on the wall for support.
After only a short time, the metal wall transformed into stone, lit with strange strings of orange and white lights. Little paper lanterns hug at odd intervals, each one with a silly pumpkin face grinning at her. A little like Nightmare Night decorations, but much larger than most ponies would’ve used.
She stopped at the top of the stairs, settling the bag down on the ground in front of her. But that much weight made her start to stumble forward. She probably would’ve faceplanted if Emily didn’t catch her arm with one of hers. “Watch it, horse girl. Don’t to break your nose down here.”
Those hands were strange to feel against her, warm an delicate in a way no hoof had ever been. Probably lots of things you could do with one of those.
But she couldn’t let herself get distracted by her companion now. “We should’ve been out by now.”
“Yep,” Emily leaned casually on the wall beside her. “That’s how it is. You can trust the world about as far as you can hear. A hundred meters on, then… God only knows.”
Scootaloo slumped forward, yanking one of the nightmare night lanterns off the wall and crumpling it in her fingers. “What is Irkalla?”
“Even that’s a guess.” Emily lowered her voice, resting one hand on Scootaloo’s shoulder sympathetically. “I’ve heard it called other things before. Limbo. The Backrooms. The Atherium. It connects places. The lignin of the universe. But the universe is infected, and so there are holes. Sometimes you slip through.”
Sometimes ponies don’t come back. Scootaloo whimpered, and almost started crying all over again. She probably would have, if the creature beside her wasn’t so pretty. She couldn’t look weak in front of her. Her wings opened behind her, and she reached sideways to catch one in her hand. A few orange feathers came free in her grip, trailing little bits of fluff. Preening these is gonna be even worse now. “How do we slip out?”
Emily shrugged. “You wouldn’t have found me here if I knew the way out.”
“Oh.” Scootaloo dropped to the ground. Her legs just sorta caved in, and she ended up resting on her knees, in a way that probably would’ve broken something as a pony. But she didn’t fall over—so long as she kept her back straight, these bodies were pretty stable.
She started to whimper, then cry. Even her voice was different, lower than she remembered. Her body was confusing, she was hopelessly lost, now without any clue of how she’d get home.
She wasn’t sure how long passed there in the dark, until she felt something wrap around her. A soft arm, and suddenly Emily was embracing her. It wasn’t quite the way she expected a hug to feel, but she still recognized the gesture. Some things were universal.
“Hey, Scootaloo. I know how awful this seems… but you’re not alone, okay?”
She was still crying—but only for a few more seconds. She sniffed, wiped her eyes on Emily’s sleeve, then nodded. “Y-yeah. You’re right. It’s… it could be worse. I just… I wish I could go home.”
“Me too.”
“What are you doing down here, exactly?” Scootaloo asked. “Just… walking around in circles?” It was hard to say how long they’d been traveling now since her breakdown. Still there was no sign of a return path to Equestria, though it did seem like their path had widened into a proper road.
“I don’t get to see the same places twice. My biggest goal has just been surviving. That’s sometimes easier said than done. When there’s any time left over, I keep my eyes open for any ways out. Haven’t found any yet, but that hasn’t stopped me from looking.”
“Well now you’ve got pegasus eyes on your side,” she declared. “A pegasus pony can spot a cloud from a hundred miles,” she recited. “But I… never got to that part of the weathermare training.” Her wings spread behind her. The feathers itched strangely, but she couldn’t bend her arms quite right to scratch them. “You think we might still be close to Equestria? Maybe these lights will lead us back to my home! You should meet my friends, they’re awesome. I think you’d love Ponyville.”
Emily giggled, covering her face with one hand. “If it’s called ‘Ponyville’, then I agree with you completely. I think I’d love it. You can pose in a few selfies with me. I’d love to send my brother some pictures from somewhere called ‘Equestria.’ And you were training to be a weatherman you said? That sounds even cuter. Cloudy with a chance of horses today, with a cold front moving up the Wasatch…”
Something was coming into view down the passage, though it didn’t seem like Ponyville, or any part of the Castle of the Two Sisters for that matter. It might not be Ponyville, but it was a town. Wide streets spread away from them, with charming little houses separated with little white fences.
For somewhere underground, it didn’t feel as dark as she expected. A diffuse glow seemed to radiate down from the ceiling, a dull red right before dawn. It felt like Scootaloo should be having trouble seeing, but her eyes were adjusting fine.
There were no ponies or other creatures in the streets, and the homes seemed run-down.
“Interesting…” Emily took a few steps forward. “Almost looks like we found somewhere modern this time. Lucky for your first stop.” With a growing grin she took Scootaloo’s hand, tugging her forward into town. “Let’s see what we can salvage, yeah?”
Scootaloo nearly fell over as she was yanked, her wings spreading reflexively to catch her. Not strong enough that she could take off and pull away, but at least it kept her from falling over.
“How can there be a town down here?” Scootaloo asked, her voice almost lost in the echo. “I thought this was between worlds or something!”
“It is,” Emily said. “And sometimes cute things fall in. Cute girls, cute neighborhoods.” They dodged onto a wide boulevard, with huge metal hulks resting along the road. Even with them taking up much of the space, the streets would still have seemed excessive in Equestria.
Emily stopped in front of one building, with a mannequin posing proudly just behind the dusty glass. She tugged on the door, then winced as it clicked. Locked.
“You’re a unicorn, right?” Scootaloo asked. “So magic it open.”
“A unicorn,” she repeated, grinning all over again. “That’s… not quite the way I’d describe it. I do know a few spells.” She bent down, lifting a fallen brick off the ground. “This one’s called ‘breaking and entering.’” She threw it at the glass with all her might.
Scootaloo winced in horror, and the window shattered.
A terrible noise echoed out from within, making Scootaloo wince with pain. Her ears would’ve folded down, if they could still do that. “Why is it so loud?”
Emily froze in place, seeming equally horrified. She spun slowly around, her eyes so wide they were almost black. “There shouldn’t have been enough power for that,” she whispered. “In a place this old… it shouldn’t work.”
The cavern shook around them. Bits of debris tumbled from old buildings. Glass shook in its mounting. A few seconds later, the siren was answered with an animalistic roar. The dull red glow overhead faded from its diffuse read to embers, then went out.
“Run.” Emily turned, grabbing Scootaloo’s wrist again and dragging her along. This time she held like a vice. Back to the main street, then into a direction that was as far from the roar as possible.
Scootaloo couldn’t keep up. She didn’t know how to run on just two legs, and every attempt to slip into a gallop would’ve tripped her if she didn’t have Emily to lean on.
But she was faster than she’d been at first. There were no separate movements for running and cantering and so on, but she could lengthen her stride, bouncing from one long leg to the next. “What was that?”
“Security!” Emily called back.
Stone ground on stone. The little strings of orange and black lanterns overhead flickered, then went out, plunging them into darkness. Emily had her flashlight, though the uneven glow did little to light the way. All the while, huge legs pounded after them in the dark, gaining. “It’s the immune system. And we’re the disease.”
Scootaloo didn’t know what the buck that was, but she could hear that they were losing ground fast. “Can they climb?”
Emily shook her head.
“There’s a tower up there, maybe a castle?” Scootaloo pointed with her free hand, up towards a large stone building with white on its sides and a letter rising from the top.
“The church?” Emily winced, as something exploded through a house behind them. A little like a worm, with rows of interlocking teeth that glittered in the darkness. Teeth wide enough to swallow them both without hesitation. “You’ve got wings! Save yourself!”
She did have wings. Wings she couldn’t use… but still, what else what she supposed to do?
Scootaloo flapped with all her might, falling into rote she’d spent years practicing. None of Rainbow’s drills had worked for her before. But this was all she’d wanted. The entire reason she’d come to this place to begin with. She was supposed to get her flight, and become a normal pegasus. Supposed to get the confidence she needed to tell the ponies she cared about how she felt.
Her body was too long and too thin and made her feel things for a creature that looked nothing like a pony. But it didn’t matter. Her wings were there, strong and wide enough that she actually began to lift.
Her shoes scraped along the ground, then began to dangle below her as her wings carried her up.
Scootaloo squealed with joy, shoving the bag away. “Ditch yours!” she yelled. “Now!”
Emily obeyed, flinging her shoulders down to the side. Scootaloo bent down, wrapping Emily in a tight hug and soaring up into the air. Her chest squeezed painfully against the other girl, and her weak forelegs began to slip, but she didn’t give up.
She could barely see where she was going, just the faint reflection off the bell in the church’s tower. But it was a destination.
There’s magic in the middle. Maybe you can find what you’re looking for.
The monster roared beneath them, its grinding jaws snapping at nothing as it tore buildings apart. But it wasn’t changing direction. While Scootaloo turned towards the church, it continued straight ahead towards the wall.
A few seconds later, she landed on the balcony, dropping to one knee to catch her breath. Broken feathers fell onto the ground around her, as her wings got their first flight-pruning of her life. “I… did it,” she panted. “I actually flew.”
“You sure did.” Emily wrapped an arm around her shoulder, clinging to her. “You saved my life, horse girl.” She leaned down, and Scootaloo felt a set of lips of her oversized forehead. But they were soft, and smelled like fruit.
If her heart could’ve lifted any higher, it would’ve.
Scootaloo sat back, not looking like an idiot this time as she rested her back up against the wall. Her body was slick with sweat around her face and bare arms, but she hardly cared. If that was the price to not be eaten today, she’d pay it. “You said… before you came here, that you didn’t have any magic.”
Emily hung from her arm, nodding once. “Yeah, why?”
“It was the same with me, but with flying.” She spread her wings behind her. “There were babies in my town who could fly when I couldn’t. It was like a whole world I wasn’t allowed to visit. I don’t really know what happened, but now… now it’s fixed. I think I got what I wanted.”
Emily settled down beside her, resting her back against the old church wall. She reached over, taking one of the thin limbs she called hands in one of her own. She reached her fingers through like she was weaving a cloth, tightening them around Scootaloo’s hand.
It was confusing—those hands were so sensitive, she wanted to pull free. But not enough to try it—it felt nice. Here was someone who’d never seen her as a freak and a failure. A fresh start, almost.
She might be stretched and strange looking, but that wasn’t the worst thing in a companion. Scootaloo was all those things now too.
If she couldn’t go home for a bit, at least the company would be interesting.
