> The Crusaders; Ice Princess
>  by DJ TR33
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> Chapter 1
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The school bell rang, signifying the end of the school day. Almost immediately, the students began to pour out of the double doors, glad to be free of the rules and strict policies that bound them during the day. Some of them began to wander back to their houses, talking with their friends, while others stayed behind to run the school newspaper. Three fillies in particular rushed out the doors with great enthusiasm, chatting and smiling as they left the school and the playground. Interestingly, the three were the only three ponies left in their class that had not yet received their cutiemarks, the magical emblems on a pony’s flank that signified their special talent. Currently, however, their lack of cutiemarks was obscured by saddlebags carrying school supplies.
The pony on the left was currently talking animatedly. She was an orange pegasus with a purple mane, and relatively small wings. “Ugh, that felt like forever! I mean, when will we ever need to know about what somepony a billion years ago did with his life? It’s pointless!” She slammed her hoof into the ground to emphasize her point. 
“Well, Rarity always says that ‘those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it,’“ the unicorn walking on the left said to her friend, imitating her sister’s accent.
“Yeah, like Ah’m gonna start a war ‘cause Ah can’t decide between two stallions,” the filly in the middle said, with a smirk. “Sorry Sweetie, but Ah have to go with Scootaloo on this one.
“Hey, I never said I agreed with Rarity, Applebloom,” Sweetie Belle retorted. “I’m just telling you what she said. I would’ve thought you two would actually like learning about a giant fight.”
“Well, the war was cool and all,” Scootaloo said. “And the giant wooden alicorn trick was sweet. But all that mushy stuff about how beautiful Helen was just made me sick to my stomach. That’s the problem with history; too much of it is mushy happy endings.”
“Hey, maybe we could get our cutiemarks with that,” Applebloom said suddenly, hit by a flash of inspiration.
“What, building a giant wooden alicorn? Didn’t we already try carpentry?” Sweetie Belle asked, confused.
“No, in history,” the earth pony clarified. “We could write a book ‘bout the past, only with all the mushy stuff taken out.” 
Scootaloo remained skeptical. “But we’d have to read through all that boring stuff first, wouldn’t we?”
“Nah, we could just read the sections that looked interestin’. We wouldn’t have to read all that mushy stuff,” Applebloom replied.
“That sounds really cool, actually,” Sweetie Belle said, warming to the idea. “Why don’t we do it? I mean, it can’t be that much harder than writing for the newspaper, right?”
The last comment earned her two glares from her friends. She cringed a little, as her words brought back her own memories of the hurt the three had caused with the Foal Free Press. “Um, sorry,” she told the other two.
The three crusaders had stopped, reaching a bush on the edge of the school grounds. Scootaloo pushed against the branches in front of her, revealing a scooter, wagon, and three helmets stashed within,
“I don’t know, it just seems like a kind of egg-heady thing to do, don’t you think?” Scootaloo said, looking at Applebloom and ignoring her other friend’s last comment as she retrieved the gear.
“Hey, y’all like those Daring Do books, right?” Applebloom asked. “It would be like those, but with real history.”
“Ok, fine,” Scootaloo said, figuring if fantasy wasn’t really an egghead thing, history couldn’t be too much of one either. “Where too?” she inquired, and received two looks of surprise and slight contempt. Feeling like an idiot, she asked, “What?”
The two looked at each other, then back at her. Together, they chorused, “The library!”

A short scooter ride later, Scootaloo was knocking on the front door of the library. She walked back to her friends, waiting for it to open. A few seconds later, a small green dragon poked his head out of the slowly opening door. “Oh, hi girls,” he said in a whisper. “What do you want?”
Sweetie Belle was the first to speak up. “Hey Spike. We were wondering if the library had any books on history, but like, fun books,” she asked, matching his volume. “Where’s Twilight? And why are we whispering?”
“Twi’s downstairs. She’s doing some delicate experiment with superfluous magical repositories. Or something like that. I wasn’t exactly listening.” He gave them a little guilty grin, casting a furtive glance towards the door to the basement behind him. “Anyways, she needs it to be absolutely silent down there, or else she could lose her concentration and wreck the whole experiment. Sorry,” he apologized.
“S’okay, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Applebloom told him, continuing at a whisper. “We’ll be super quiet, promise. Y’all got any books like that?”
“I don’t know,” he told them, letting them into the building, and walking them over to a wall of books. “I mean, we’ve got some really great history texts, but they can be pretty boring sometimes.  You’re welcome to look through them, though.”
“Thanks, Spike,” Sweetie Belle said to him, before turning back to face the bookshelf with her friends. The shelf had a tiny plaque marking it History, and beneath it lay five rows packed with books on Equestrian History. The girls let their eyes idly drift over the titles, looking for a book that would be interesting for them to read. 
“Hey guys, look at this, A History of Zebra Culture,” Scootaloo exclaimed, softly. “Not very interesting, but I bet it would explain a lot about Zecora.” The pegasus reshelved the book, putting it back where she had pulled it from the shelf.
“Wow, a history of Ponyville,” Sweetie Belle whispered a bit later, examining a dark blue book. “Look, it’s got interviews with prominent Ponyvillians! I bet there’s something from Granny Smith here.” She flipped through the pages, searching for a section on the mare.
“We already got, like, a summary of that from Granny Smith herself,” Scootaloo retorted, not taking her eye’s from the shelf. “I don’t think you can get much better than a history of a town from one of the founders.” Sweetie Belle nodded her agreement, closing the book and shelving it. A few minutes passed in silence once more.
“Hey, Scoots, you’d like this one,” Applebloom said, pulling a book with a bright pink cover from the shelf. “A History of  Prominent Romances, by L. Y. Heartsmith.” The filly smirked, fighting down a chuckle.
“Oh, hardy har,” Scootaloo responded, rolling her eyes.  “That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” The crusader paused, noticing a book she hadn’t seen before. It was somewhat inconspicuous, a light blue colored book at the edge of the shelf. She wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t been for the golden letters that were embossed on the outside, catching the sun’s light. 
Scootaloo walked over to the book, pulling it from the shelf. Turning it, she saw an image of a pegasus in a battle pose, standing on his hind legs, beckoning with his hoof. “The Pegasi Monks. Yeah, this is what I’m talkin’ about,” she said quietly, gazing at the book with a smile on her face. “Hey, Applebloom, found anything you like?” she asked, as loud as she could while still whispering.
Applebloom showed her a tomb she had also retrieved, a brown book with green words on the front, Warriors of the Earth. Beneath it was an image of a black blade. Scootaloo nodded her approval, turning to her other friend. “What about you, Sweetie?” she asked.
Her friend was engrossed in a black book, idly flipping through the pages. “It’s called Battle Magic. I thought it looked pretty cool,” she responded, looking at some of the illustrations. On one page, there was a diagram illustrating a unicorn releasing a blast of magic from his horn, gouging the ground beneath him.
“Awesome,” Scootaloo told her.
The clock in the center of the towns square rang out, chiming four times. The sound was somewhat muted as it came throught the thick walls of the building, but loud enough for Scootaloo to look around in surprise. “Woah, is it four already? Geez, I really need to get home.”
Sweetie Belle also looked up. “Rarity I’ll kill me if I’m late again,” she responded, agreeing. Applebloom turned away from the shelf.
“Spike?” she asked, louder than before, although still quiet. “Is it okay if we check these books out?”
Spike emerged from the other room, carrying a half eaten ruby. It was clear they had caught him halfway through his dinner. “Yeah, that’s fine. One sec, let me just see the books.” The fillies gave him the books, and the dragon scratched down the titles next to each pony’s name on a checkout sheet.
“Thanks!” Scootaloo said as he gave them their books back. The three ponies each put their books in their bags, then tightened the straps. “When are they due back?” she asked him.
“Two weeks.” He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed by her gratitude. “It was nothing, really.”
The fillies went to the door, opening it as quietly as they could. “Ah hope Twilight has good luck with that experiment of hers,” she told the dragon, before gently shutting the door behind her. The three got back on the scooter, sitting where Scootaloo had parked it.
It was only a few minutes before the three pulled up at Sweetie Belle’s house, known to customers  as the Carousel Boutique. “Thanks,” she told Scootaloo, going up to the door and entering the house. “See you tomorrow!” The two ponies on the scooter responded in kind as the door shut behind the unicorn, and the scooter was once again in motion. The remaining crusaders were quick to cover the ground between the boutique and the farmhouse where Applebloom lived, Sweet Apple Acres. 
“Thanks again, Scootaloo,” Applebloom told her, getting out of the wagon on slightly wobbly legs, which she promptly shook out.
“No problem,” the pegasi told her. “’Til tomorrow?” she asked, stretching out a hoof towards the other pony. Applebloom bumped her hoof in return.
“’Til tomorrow,” she answered, turning and walking up the dirt drive to the farm. Once more, Scootaloo began to flutter her wings, producing enough power to propel herself across town. Behind her dragged the now empty wagon. Of course, the pegasus could travel much faster when she didn’t have to deal with the wagon, but after the few times when she had forgotten it and had attempted to balance all three fillies on the main body of the scooter, the pegasus had gotten in the habit of taking the wagon wherever she went.
The pegasus left the town, traveling instead on a dirt road that was bordering the Everfree forest. She quickly came to a cottage that almost looked like it had been grown out of the ground, with grass covering the roof and numerous animal dens and nests surrounding it. She pulled her scooter up to the side of the house and dismounted, leaving it lying against the wall. Scootaloo walked around to the front of the cottage, knocked on the door a few times, then let herself in.
“Fluttershy!” she said to the empty house, careful not to raise her voice too much. “I’m home!” 

> Chapter 2
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	Applebloom walked up the stairs of the old house, groaning slightly. “You’d think Ah’d have learned by now not to eat that last piece of pie,” she muttered under her breath. The filly was just coming from dinner with her family, where she had, once again, eaten too much. It was a common problem among the Apple family, as a good deal of the ponies in the family turned out to be excellent cooks. The trick, she’d found, was to set experience of past bellyaches against the present food. It worked most of the time, although occasionally food still won out.
Applebloom walked down the hall, reaching her room at the end. She opened the door with her muzzle, and then closed it behind her with a rear leg. The filly walked to the side of her bed, where her saddlebags still lay after she had thrown them down when she had first entered the house. Most days, Applebloom came straight home from school, did her part in helping around the farm, and by the time she was done with her chores, dinner was done, cooked up by Granny Smith while Big Mac and Applejack were out working in the orchard. Afterward, she would do her homework, and then she had the rest of the time to do whatever she wanted.
On days when she and her friends were able to, they would go crusading, and her sister Applejack would pick up the chores that had to be done that day. The next day Applebloom would do the non-essential chores she had missed while with her friends the day before.
Sitting on the hardwood floor next to her bed, Applebloom opened her saddlebags, pulling out a folder marked Homework in large, somewhat sloppy letters, and after a moment of rooting around found a slightly dull pencil at the bottom of the bags.  She pulled a worksheet from the bag, covered in equations for her to solve, as well as a few word problems. Applebloom was quick to complete the math work, and although she had a bit of trouble on the word problems, it wasn’t long before she had completed the entire page. The filly returned the paper to the folder and put it back into her bag, trading it for the book she had checked out from the library a few hours before, glad to be done with all of her work for the night. 
Applebloom set the saddlebags down next to her bed, and turned her attention back to the book in front of her. She didn’t really know why she’d chosen the book, besides the Warrior part in the title. Certainly it wasn’t nearly as flashy as some of the other books in the library, although the green ink contrasting on the brown background was a nice effect, almost like plants growing in the warm soil. It was almost like there was something about seeing an earth pony as a brave warrior that drew her in. So often when Cheerilee taught history, it seemed like it was all decided by the unicorns, or the pegasi. The earth ponies were always grunts, unimportant in the big scheme of things. 
Applebloom lay down on the floor next to her bed, setting the book in between her front hooves. Opening the book, the filly began to read the somewhat spindly script.
The Warriors of the Earth were an elite group of earth pony guards formed and employed by Princess Celestia nearly nine hundred years ago. They served as her guards for over two hundred years as she returned the land to its peaceful state, repelling numerous invaders and monsters that had come into Equestria over the course of her century of grieving at the loss of her sister.
It is speculated that they may have had a crucial role in many events that occurred over the following century. Some of the events these warriors were rumored to have been involved with include the Gryphon Wars, the Draconic Treaty, and the Zebra Alliance, although no concrete evidence has been found for any event.
While some is known about these warriors, much is simply superstition and rumors, while much more is completely unknown. This book is an attempt to shed light on the habits, abilities, and influence of these mysterious ponies. However, it is important to note that while this tomb’s purpose is only to inform, much of the information is but speculation, and it is up to the reader to judge whether they believe it to be true.
Applebloom turned the page, moving from the prologue to the actual first page of the book. Applebloom had inherited from her sister and brother a steadfast approach to life, and that carried over to how the filly read the book itself. Her sibling’s had taught her to start a task from the beginning and carry it all the way through. As such, Applebloom started from the beginning of the text and started to read it straight through.
While the language itself was somewhat dry, the meaning certainly was not, and the filly found herself enjoying the history text immensely. It was gratifying for the earth pony to read about ponies that weren’t unicorns or pegasi having an active part in history, however mysterious that part may have been. The intrigue surrounding the group only served to pique the filly’s interest in them.
The first part of the book was a discussion on the formation of the group. Some sources said that Celestia had formed the group, training a collection of earth ponies to be her guard, while others told of a band of mercenaries that Celestia had hired and had quickly grown into an extremely loyal group of guards. All agreed that they had intense loyalty to the princess from their first appearances.
The next chapter was speculation over the major events that had occurred, and the Warrior’s impact on said events. Though Applebloom normally found herself bored with the minutiae of history often taught in school, she now found herself engrossed by the tales the author had gathered from different ponies on what roles they had played in various wars and treaties.
Finally, the pony reached a chapter on the weaponry used by the elite soldiers. Although the tales differed on some weapons, some tales detailing ponies who had skills with a sword, others mentioning talented archers, they all agreed on one weapon which all of the ponies seemed to use. Applebloom came to an illustration of the weapon they shared, and froze.
The illustration, and accompanying description, was of a hoof guard made of two bands of thick fabric, each embossed with a small jewel, and loose embroidered cloth connecting them. Apparently, hidden in the cloth was an incredibly sharp and strong blade of obsidian, which they were able to retract and extend at will. However, it wasn’t the weapon itself that had shocked the young filly. She was surprised for an entirely different reason.
The cloth band was very familiar to the young filly. It was one of the only pieces of jewelry that Applebloom owned, passed down to her from her mother, after her death. And currently, it was sitting in a drawer of her bedside table, no more than three feet away from her.
Applebloom stood up, ignoring the cramp her rear legs had acquired from her sitting on them. The filly slowly walked over to the table next to her bed and pulled open the drawer. Sitting there was the cloth band, an almost perfect duplicate of the one illustrated in the book. Applebloom pulled it out as delicately as she could with her mouth.
Trotting back over to the book, she gently set the cloth ring down on the ground, comparing it to the illustration. She was slightly surprised to find that it was an exact match. Sitting back, she came to the conclusion that it was a really good imitation, which seemed to her unlikely. The alternative was impossible, of course- that she had in her possession a weapon that had belonged to a mysterious group of warriors, hundreds of years ago. If it was real, though…
Applebloom looked back at the page, trying to find more information about the weapon. Apparently, it was supposed to be worn on the front leg, near the hoof. The jewel was supposed to control the blade itself, although it didn’t mention how. Hesitantly, Applebloom slid the ring around her right foreleg. It was just the right size to fit around her leg, almost as if it had been made just for her. The jewel almost seemed to glow as she put the band on, and she felt a tingle of exhilaration run down her spine. 
The filly held her leg away from herself, holding her breath as she waited for the blade to slide out. A long moment passed, tension slowly gathering in the air, and in the filly’s body. As nothing continued to occur, she let out the breath that she’d been holding, disappointed.
“Figures,” she muttered under her breath. The chance that the ring was legitimate was astronomical. It was probably just a knock off, a replica made for some kind of museum. “I just wish you’d work!”
Applebloom let out a quiet yelp, jumping backwards as the blade silently shot out of the cloth, just beneath the jewel that was now gently glowing. The filly lost her balance, falling backwards onto her flank away from the knife that was attached to her leg. She stopped for a moment, entranced by the dagger.
The book had described it as a piece of black obsidian, but that didn’t do it justice. The blade was black as night, and polished to such a shine that Applebloom could see her reflection in its surface. A small groove ran down the center, completing the symmetry of the rest of the blade. Applebloom turned her hoof slightly, examining the edge, a barely visible line that looked so sharp she almost felt it would cut through the air itself. 
A knock came from the door, making her jump. Quickly, the filly attempted to scramble to her hooves, keeping the leg with the blade off the ground. It wasn’t as hard as it would have been for most ponies though, as the filly had developed a keen sense of balance during her Cutie Pox episode. The knock came again, letting the filly know that the other pony was about to come in.
Applebloom looked down at the knife and panicked. Her sister had given her the cloth a few years ago, as something to remember their mother by, but Applebloom doubted that she knew it was a weapon. If Applejack saw the blade, it would be gone quicker than the filly could say “not suitable for younger ponies.” Applebloom focused on getting the blade to retract, hoping it would work the same way it had popped out. To her great relief, the blade sheathed itself, just as the door to her room opened.
“Hey there, sugarcube,” her sister said, walking partway into the room.
“Hiya, Applebloom,” the filly responded.
“Ah heard a thump from in here. Y’all okay?” Applejack asked, looking in on her younger sister.
“Yeah, Ah’m fine. Just, uh, tripped is all!” she lied, hoping her sister wouldn’t catch on.
Applejack looked at the younger filly, about to call her out on her bluff, before she noticed the cloth ring around the filly’s leg. She let go of what she was going to say, then looked towards the window. “Get some sleep soon,” she said. “Sun’s almost down. Night, sis.”
Applebloom turned around, looking out the window as well. The filly was surprised to see that the sun was at the horizon already, painting the sky red.
“Night, sis.” Behind her, the door closed as Applejack left the room. 
Involuntarily, the filly gave a giant yawn, and a wave of tiredness swept over her. She hadn’t noticed until Applejack had come in, but the day had really worn her down. Still, she had just discovered something incredible; shouldn’t that take preference over base urges? Applebloom looked at the band, conflicted, before she yawned once more. Recognizing an unwinnable struggle, the filly reluctantly gave in to her need for rest.
Walking to her bed, the filly put the heirloom back in her drawer, shutting it. She would have more time to experiment with it the next day. Slipping into bed, the filly gave one more massive yawn, a last ditch effort to stay awake, before she gently slipped off to sleep. Her dreams that night were filled with ancient earth pony warriors fighting menacing arithmetic problems.

> Chapter 3
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	Scootaloo brought the spoon up to her mouth, quietly sipping the carrot soup. Across the table, Fluttershy was doing the same thing. The two were silent for a few seconds, before Fluttershy spoke up.
“So, how was your day?” the mare asked. With some ponies, the question was just a way to make conversation, but Scootaloo had found out by now that if Fluttershy asked a question, it was because she wanted to know the answer.
“Pretty good,” she responded. “We’re learning about the Trotjan war in history class, and then we went crusading.” Fluttershy cringed slightly at the last statement. Although she’d never said anything, it was clear to the filly that the mare didn’t like it when the three of them tried to get their cutie marks. “We went to the library, this time. Applebloom thought we should try being historians.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” the mare said softly, obviously relieved that they hadn’t done anything dangerous.
“And what about you?” Scootaloo asked her. “Did you do anything cool today?”
“Well, I helped Rarity with some of her dresses. She doesn’t have any pegasus mannequins, so she wanted me to pose for her.” Scootaloo nodded. Fluttershy didn’t do much that could be called exciting, most days, but it was still important to the mare, so Scootaloo made sure she seemed engaged.
The two sat in a companionable silence for a few more minutes, quietly sipping their soup. Finishing her bowl, Scootaloo stood up, carrying the bowl as she trotted into the kitchen. After a quick rinse, she put the bowl on a drying rack and returned to the table.
“Fluttershy, I’ve got some homework to do. Um, do you mind?” she asked, unsure. Fluttershy looked up in surprise.
“Oh no, not at all,” she said. The mare still wasn’t entirely used to having another pony in the house, and sometimes forgot that she was in charge of more than just animals.
Turning, Scootaloo walked over to the door and, grabbing her saddlebags in her mouth by the strap, carried them upstairs. Scootaloo walked into the room that she shared with the other mare. It had been strange, for a while, being in Fluttershy’s charge, but the filly had soon gotten used to the situation. The mare had taken her in after the crusaders had nearly wrecked her house during their sleep over. At first Scootaloo hadn’t understood why the other pegasus was letting the filly live in her house, but by the time that the adoption papers were signed Scootaloo had already grown to like the house and the mare, and even began to understand her a bit.
Of course, no matter how kind, Fluttershy could never be a substitute for her mom. Her mom was gone, and could never come back.
Scootaloo felt herself grimace at the direction her thoughts had taken her. She pulled out her homework, trying to distract herself, and was done with it in a few minutes. Although she didn’t always show it, the pegasus was a smart filly, and had never really had trouble with math. Her work for the night done, the pegasus lay down on the bed, thinking about what she should do next.
Of course, she could always read the book, like her friends were probably doing, but she still kind of felt that reading was something for eggheads. Even if her idol, Rainbow Dash, liked some action stories, that didn’t really make history tombs any less dorky. Still, it wasn’t like the filly had anything else to do. She tossed around the idea of watching the Everfree forest for a while, which was surprisingly relaxing for something that was so feral, before she dismissed that idea and turned her attention to the book.
Opening the text to the first page, she read outloud, “‘This is a novel that attempts to conceptualize the living situation and hippology of the pegasi monks of elder days.’ Geez, why do authors always feel the need to use such big words? I hope the whole book isn’t like this,” she said, rolling her eyes at the book before her.
The filly skipped ahead a few chapters, hoping to find a reference to the image on the front of the book. “Lets see, maybe in ‘Founding?’” the filly wondered. Turning to the section, she started to read again. “‘The Pegasi Monks were founded nearly thirteen hundred years ago, by an unknown pegasus. All historians know of the figure was that he had a disability that, at the time, was somewhat common, now suspected to be SWD (Stunted Wing Development), where the wings of a pegasus never fully develop, and in extreme cases render the pony unable to fly.
Tired of ridicule and a job market that was closed to him, the pegasus left the his town and went into the then uncharted wilderness, building a small hut and living off the land and nature around him. As word spread around, other pegasi with the same deformity left their own homes and meager existences to join him. While the ponies were never explicitly religious, their life of solitude in nature earned them the name of Pegasi Monks, or, as they were more commonly known, Those Crazy Ponies Living Off in the Forest.”
Scootaloo chuckled at the last part, trying to ignore the icy feeling she’d been having since the book mentioned SWD. Of course the filly knew about SWD; almost every pegasus did. It was a genetic disease, one that had taken many lives in the past. Now, though, it was practically extinct- a case hadn’t been reported for nearly two hundred years. Mostly, it was just used as an insult, calling ponies Stunters, a way of attacking a pegasus who had difficulty flying.
There was something about the passage in the book, about the trials the unnamed pegasus had to face, that struck a deep chord in the filly, and that scared her. She didn’t want to think of the possibility that all the teasing she had endured might turn out to be true. Quickly, she turned the page, skipping further ahead in the book. 
“Let’s see- ‘Culture,’” she said, looking at the title of the next chapter. “Nah, looks boring. ‘Resources’? No, that doesn’t look any more interesting.” The filly looked at the cover of the book, where a pegasus punched at the air, standing on his hind legs. “Where’s the stuff on fighting?” she asked the book, flipping to the next chapter.
“'Conflict’,” she read aloud. “Okay, now were getting somewhere. She picked up her narration once more. “‘Although the Pegasi Monks quickly solved the issue with acquiring resources, they still faced many problems. A prominent issue that started to occur as the Monks gathered renown was numerous raids by bandits and thieves. Unlike most towns and cities at that time, the Monk’s homes were not protected by a city guard.
After one of the monks was actually killed by a bandit, the founder decided to find some way of defending themselves. Although they weren’t able to fly, the pegasi were able to balance on their hind legs, using their wings, as mentioned in the previous chapter.” Scootaloo paused, feeling slightly guilty about skipping ahead, but after a moment she continued. “The pegasi developed a unique fighting style, using primarily their front hooves and wings, and attacking from a superior height. This style ended up being so effective that the monks were able to chase away the next three raids. As news of their novel attacking style spread, nopony else dared to attack them, although the monks continued to train and improve their fighting style.”
Scootaloo found herself interested by the description of the fighting style, mainly because the way it was described was unlike any kind of style she’d ever heard about in the past. The filly shut the book, pushing it to the side, and then moved back to the center of the room.
Carefully, Scootaloo reared into the air, lifting off of her front legs. As she came up, she fanned her wings, propelling herself all the way up onto her back legs. Feeling herself tip over, the filly flapped her wings backwards, balancing herself.
After almost losing her balance a few times, Scootaloo finally got the hang of it. The position reminded her of when she rode her scooter; the orientation was the same, the only real difference being that she had to support herself with her wings rather than her handlebars. After a few minutes, the filly figured out how to support herself in the air with the least amount of effort possible. 
Figuring out how to stand, the filly next went after trying to walk on two legs. The pegasus carefully lifted her right leg off the ground, bringing it forward. The filly immediately began to lose her balance, slipping backwards, and almost instinctively fanned her wings. Scootaloo felt herself rocking off her left leg, her weight being transferred to her right side, and then, as she felt herself tilting over, quickly brought her left leg in front of her, stopping her forward fall.
Scootaloo paused, surprised. It seemed that she had, accidentally, stumbled on the secret of walking on two legs; controlled falling. With that idea in mind, the pegasus quickly mastered the movement, and practiced walking around the room, sometimes managing as many as three steps without having to use her wings for balance.
Behind her, the filly heard the sounds of Fluttershy trotting up the stairs. Distracted, Scootaloo forgot to flap her wings, and felt herself falling backwards, hitting the ground on her back with a jarring thud.
A few seconds later, the mare came into view, looking concerned for the other pegasus. “Are you alright?” she asked, softly.
“Uh, yeah!” the filly replied, embarrassed. “I just, um, fell over.” Scootaloo scrambled to her feet, trying not to meet Fluttershy’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” the mare said. Scootaloo knew that her appearance upstairs meant that all the animals had been taken care of, and now the mare was ready to fall asleep. Thinking about it, Scootaloo found herself tired as well. Although Fluttershy never asked, the filly tried to help out with the animals, and other domestic tasks around the house. Scootaloo felt it was the least she could do, considering everything the mare had done for her.
Still, it meant that, at the end of the day, Scootaloo was often as tired as Fluttershy. Because the mare only had one bedroom, Scootaloo had found herself going to sleep at the same time that Fluttershy would, and it became an unspoken rule in the house, or at least in the filly’s mind- whenever Fluttershy wanted to go to bed, that became Scootaloo’s new bedtime.
The two ponies climbed into their beds, on opposite sides of the room. As she was getting into bed, Scootaloo reflected on how her legs and wings hardly hurt, even though she’d been “walking” around for almost twenty minutes. The filly figured it probably had to do with all the time she’d spent hauling her friends around on her scooter. Still, just because she wasn’t sore didn’t mean that she wasn’t tired. The combined energy she’d spent that day with pulling her friends in a wagon, helping Fluttershy with the animals and teaching herself how to stand on two legs meant that the filly was asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes.