Scootaloo soared across the sky high above Equestria. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her outstretched wings as she started her decent, gliding down towards a cluster of rain clouds that required marshalling. Reaching them, she alighted on the sturdiest looking cloud and looked down. Far below to her starbord wing lay Ponyville, its buildings glinting in the late afternoon sun. It seemed a shame to break-up the run of good weather, but this shower had been planned for some time, and weather breaks like this were required to prevent drought.
Having taken her bearings, the orange pegasus took off gracefully, climbed a little, then banked around, positioning herself behind the group of clouds. Onces satisfied with her positioning she started flying towards Ponyville, pushing the clouds in front of her. The clouds weren’t hard to move, but even so, by the time she had them in position over Sweet Apple Acres she was hot and dripping with sweat. Flapping her wings to maintain balance and altitude, she positioned herself in front of the lead cloud and gave it a good buck, causing it to start raining softly. Scootaloo watched the silver droplets fall to the ground, the rain looking invitingly refreshing to the tired young pegasus.
Her job done, she flew down towards the ground on a trajectory that took her directly into the path of the rain shower. The autumn sun had heated the clouds, and the rain was distinctly warm. She could feel it’s warmth washing over her body, and she savoured the feeling, allowing herself to relax as she became drenched in life-giving rain.
Gradually, the young pegusus awoke. She could still feel the wet warmth between her legs, and it took her a few moments to figure-out why. “Horsefeathers,” she mumbled to herself, as the realisation dawned on her that she had wet the bed. Again. Drawing back the covers she assessed the damage; her Wonderbolt pajamas were soaked, and there was a large wet patch in the sheets below where she had been lying. by the look of it, she had managed to empty her entire bladder this time, before waking up. She sighed wearily; this seemed to be happening a lot lately, whenever she had flight dreams.
“Scootaloo... breakfast!,” her Aunt calling cheerfully from outside her bedroom door, startling her. Cursing under her breath, the filly drew the covers up to her neck in case her Aunt decided to enter. “OK Auntie, I’ll be right out,” she yelled back.
Satisfied by the sound of her aunt’s receeding hoof-steps that she wasn’t about to have her room invaded, Scootaloo slipped out of bed, and stood in front of the mirror, examining herself miserably as she stripped out of her soaked pajamas. Why do I have to have such weak wings... and an even weaker bladder?
After stashing the wet pajamas under her bed, she pulled up the bed covers to hide the large wet patch in the sheets. Now that she was an older filly, she was expected to do most of her own washing, and so-far at least she had been been saved the embarassment of her aunt finding out about her problem.
Her stomach grumbled, making her temporarily forget her embarassing problem. Putting her problems aside for now, the little filly left her room and went to take a shower before breakfast.
It turned out to be a long day at school. First period was spelling (really not her forte), followed by maths (also not her forte), and after lunch, Equestrian history. Cherilee was an engaging teacher, and Scootaloo usually quite enjoyed her history lessons (at least the interesting bits about battles and knights and dragons) but her mind wasn’t on her school-work today. As often happened, she found herself staring out the classroom window, watching the clouds drifting by in the hope of seeing Rainbow Dash or one of the other weather ponies out on manouvers.
The last period for the day was gymkhana, and Scootaloo made up for her earlier inattention by applying herself exta hard, excercising on the wing trainer machine.
After school, she hung out with her fellow crusaders for a while, just loitering around town and chatting until Applebloom announced she had to run off and help with chores before being grounded. Scootaloo went as far as carousel boutique with Sweetie Belle, and then parted company, riding her scooter towards home.
***
Arriving home, Scootaloo headed back to her room, but froze on entering. Her bed covers looked conspicuously tidy; much tidier than the haphazard state she had hastily arranged them in that morning. She pulled back the covers - fresh sheets. The little filly turned bright red realising that her bed wetting was no longer a secret.
“Scootaloo.” Her thoughts were interupted by her Aunt, who had appeared stealthily in the doorway to her room. “I was doing a load of washing anway, so I thought I’d change your sheets,” the older pegasis said gently, “do you want to talk with me about it?”. Scootaloo took one look at her aunt, and then looked back down at her bed. Then she burst into tears.
Her aunt came and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. Wrapping one wing around the crying filly, she said quietly, “it’s OK dear, lots of fillies your age still wet the bed - it’s not something you need to be ashamed of. How long has this been going on?”.
Scootaloo sobbed, burying her face in her auntie’s wing before replying quietly “Since mom and dad... .” She trailed-off, her whole body shaking.
“That’s very normal Scootaloo, you’ve had a really tough time lately - I know it can’t be easy.”
Scootaloo nodded slightly, but said nothing, blinking back tears. Her aunt pulled her closer with her wing, holding her tightly in a warm hug, and rocking her niece gently until the little filly finally stopped sobbing, and her trembling subsided.
“Is it happening often?” her aunt asked her gently.
“Not every night. Maybe a couple of times a week, sometimes more,” Scootaloo admitted reluctantly.
“We don’t have to do it right now, but we’ll need to talk about what you want to do about this,” said her aunt tactfully. “Would you like me to book an appointment with the doctor?”.
Scootaloo shook her head emphatically this time, “Please don’t - this totally sucks - it’s too embarassing”.
“Thats understandable. But we need to do something about it, otherwise you’ll just end up wrecking your mattress”.
The little filly looked up at her aunt with tearful eyes. “But what can I do? I’ve tried to stop doing it, but it keeps happening”.
“I know dear” said her aunt, giving her niece a friendly squeeze. “I’m sure it’ll end up stopping sooner or later on it’s own accord. We just need to make it less of a pain to deal with in the mean time”.
“Like how?” asked Scootaloo, unsure what her aunt was suggesting.
“Well honey, maybe we need to consider you wearing diapers to bed”.
“DIAPERS?”, Scootaloo was shocked. “But I’m not a baby!” she blurted out, horrified.
“I know you’re not Scootaloo, thats why I’m trying to make this your decision, but you are wetting your bed, and we’ll need to do somthing about it. Diapers really aren’t that bad you know, they make them for fillies your age as well, they even make them with nice patterns for girls.”
“I hate patterns for girls!” moaned Scootaloo.
“Well, we can get you boys ones if you prefer - up to you. I think they have them with Wonderbolts designs”.
Scootaloo found herself thinking about what Wonderbolts diapers would look like, and then started to blush as she noticed her aunt smiling at her with a satisfied look.
“It’s only a temporary fix of course dear, but it would mean you didn’t have to put up with wet sheets every night”.
The little orange pegasus hung her head in resignation.
***
That night, Scootaloo lay in bed, sobbing quietly to herself. Her aunt had said she would order some diapers the next day, but in the interim, she had given Scootaloo a thick fluffy towel, in the hope that it would spare the mattress the worst, should she wet herself again tonight. It felt bulky and strange, doubled up, and tucked between her legs, though not as strange as she imagined a diaper might feel.
The filly was dreadfully embarassed at the prospect of having to wear diapers, but she was also surprised to find that she felt a little releived that she no longer had to hide her bedwetting problem from her aunt. Her aunt had taken good care of her since her parents had passed away a year and a half ago, and it felt good not having to keep secrets from her.
After a few minutes of restless thoughts, she finally drifted off to sleep, and dreamt of flying.
Scootaloo soared through the air with her wings outstretched, flapping frantically... and landed face first in the mud. A moment later, her scooter crashed down with a wet thud nearby.
“Er,” Apple Bloom called out, peering down at her friend in concern from the club house balcony, “are you OK Scootaloo?”
The formerly orange pegasus filly sat up slowly, checking her wings, and spitting out the mud that had found it’s way into her muzzle. “Yeah, I’m fine. I dunno what happened, I just slipped off my scooter as I made the jump.”
“It’s pretty muddy,” observed Sweetie Belle perceptively, helping her up, “maybe you should try again for your dirt jumping cutie mark when it’s not so wet?”
After Scootaloo had washed some of the mud out of her coat with the hose, all three fillies retreated to the clubhouse to mastermind their crusading plans for the weekend ahead. Scootaloo dried herself in front of the little portable oil heater they had acquired second-hand from Mr Breezy, while they argued earnestly about what activities they should try next.
Sweetie Belle was taking minutes in her diary as they debated. “How about, Cutie Mark Crusader Spies?” she suggested hopefully. “We could find somepony with an interesting secret, and follow them to see what they do?”
Scootaloo frowned, “How would we know they had an interesting secret before we started following them?”
Sweetie chewed on her pencil for a bit before venturing, “Rarity says everypony has secrets, but that it’s always the quiet ones who’re hiding the biggest lib-ee-dos; I’m not sure what that is, but I guess it’s some kind of big secret?”
“Big Macintosh is pretty quiet,” offered Scootaloo, not wanting to appear quiet herself.
“We’re not gonna spy on ma’ brother! Ah’ could get in trouble for that!” Applebloom protested indignantly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if he had any lib-ee-dos hidden anywhere at home.”
“Maybe he keeps them at Miss Cherilee’s house?” Sweetie suggested. “Anyway, there’s tons of other quiet ponies. We could try the Library; I bet there will be lots of quiet ponies there on a Saturday. You get in trouble for talking loudly now, since Twilight put that sign up.”
“What would we do if they caught us spying?” asked Applebloom, who was always the first to be grounded whenever her sister found out what they had been up to.
“They wouldn’t, Dummy,” explained Sweetie Belle matter-of-factly, “no one notices spies - they like, blend into the background and move without being seen - everyone knows that.”
“Uh Sweetie,” interjected Scootaloo, “I think that’s ninjas, not spies.”
“Oh,” said Sweetie, looking momentarily crestfallen, before her eyes lit up again, “what about ninja-spys then?”
***
Being a Friday, they were allowed to stay out later than on school nights, but by six-thirty all three Crusaders were feeling the call of dinner, and decided to break up for the night, agreeing to meet again the next morning to start their ninja spy ring.
Outside, the sky was darkening, and it was raining lightly. As Scootaloo rode her muddy but still-working scooter home, she caught sight of Rainbow Dash and two other weather pegasai flying high above, corralling clouds with expert precision.
Dash eventually noticed the little orange pegasus waving up at her, and casually dropped out of formation, lowering her altitude until she was within shouting distance of the filly. “Heya Scoots... you’d better get inside soon, we’ve got a big storm scheduled to start in a few minutes,” she called down.
Scootaloo nodded, and yelled back “OK, thanks Rainbow Dash, I’m just heading home anyway”. Dash gave the filly a playful salute, and then flew off, rejoining formation.
By the time she made it home, it was raining steadily, and her hooves were caked in yet more mud. Wiping them off on the front door mat, the bedraggled filly made a beeline for the shower.
Compared to the rest of the small two bedroom, two story cottage, the bathroom was almost palatial. Her aunt Rosemary, a real estate agent by trade - if not by her sales figures - maintained that good kitchens and bathrooms are the heart and soul of any home. Scootaloo wasn’t sure about this at all, but she had come to appreciate her aunt’s fancy shower, which in addition to the normal rose, had special horizontal water jets that cleaned and massaged at the same time; it was like being in a spa, but standing up.
The hot shower felt amazing as it played on her coat, and she watched the stream of muddy water running down her fetlocks and disappearing down the plug-hole.
With the mud gone, the bruises and scrapes from her scooter crash were now visible, and she found that she was tender in half a dozen different places as she worked the shampoo through her coat.
Turning the shower off, she was puzzled to still hear loud running water, until she realized it was the storm outside, which was now pelting down, with no sign of letting up.
Emerging sometime later from the bathroom in her freshly laundered Wonderbolts pajamas, she headed back downstairs to investigate the fridge. Auntie Rosemary trotted into the kitchen as Scootaloo was demolishing a packet of cheese singles, half a packet of oat biscuits and a glass of milk.
“Scootaloo, you’ll wreck your appetite!” she admonished.
“No I won’t,” said Scootaloo with her mouth full, looking guilty none-the-less.
“How was school?” Her aunt always quizzed her on this.
“Yeah OK, learned some stuff.”
“That’s good. Oh, by the way, your package arrived for you honey, it’s on your bed.”
Scootaloo stopped chewing, and looked up at her aunt with a baleful face.
Rosemary had placed the order the day after she had spoken to Scootaloo about her ‘problem’, but it had taken a few days to ship from Canterlot, and she had almost forgotten about it in the meantime, not having wet the bed again since then.
***
Scootaloo had finished her snack, had dinner, watched TV, and finally, when her Aunt had insisted it was too late to watch any more, she had voluntarily decided to do her homework rather than go to bed - unprecedented for a Friday night.
Eventually, when she found Scootaloo nodding off, with her head resting on her open geography workbook, her aunt decided it was time to put her hoof down. “Bedtime missy, no more procrastinating”.
“Pro what now?” asked Scootaloo sleepily. What did she look like, a dictionary?
“Never mind... off to bed with you. Let me know if you need any help.”
Scootaloo blushed and shook her head emphatically. Leaving her homework unfinished on the kitchen table, she stormed upstairs sulkily, and went to slowly brush her teeth.
The few steps across the landing from the bathroom to her bedroom seemed to take forever. Her feet felt clumsy underneath her, and she realized that despite the drop in temperature from the storm, she was sweating. She slipped inside her darkened bedroom, and shut the door, her heart pounding.
Don’t be stupid, she told herself. They’re just dumb diapers.
She started suddenly as a bolt of lightning lit up the room, momentarily highlighting in silhouette the package on her bed which she had been doing her best to avoid thinking about all evening.
She padded over to her bed, and had pulled the covers up around her neck before she heard the distant answer of thunder. Once her eyes adjusted, she could see the package sitting at the end of her bed clearly. Actually, she could see now there were two packages. The larger one, a plain cardboard box, was bigger than she had expected. The smaller package was less evenly shaped, and was wrapped in gift-paper.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, she turned on her bedside night-light, then reached forward to pick up the smaller package. It was light and soft to touch, and had a gift label attached. Squinting at her Aunt’s handwriting, she read “Thought you might like a new friend - xxx Auntie Rose”. Tearing off the wrapping paper, she found a handsome official Wonderbolts plush toy pony inside. Scootaloo smiled. You could say what you liked about her aunt, but she understood the importance and proper application of bribes.
Setting the Wonderbolt plushy aside, she turned her attention back to the task she had been dreading. Opening the seal on the cardboard box, she found two smaller packages inside, both wrapped in blue shrink-wrapped plastic. She pulled one out, and discarded the cardboard box on the floor.
The diaper package had a graphic of three silhouetted Wonderbolts in arrow formation on the front, along with the words ’18 nighttime diapers for colts 12-16 years’, and ‘New Wonderbolts design!’ emblazoned diagonally across the bottom right corner.
Scootaloo found herself wondering what the difference was between daytime and nighttime diapers, before turning her attention to the rear of the packet, where an instructional line drawing showed a young colt being changed by some helpful pony. She had refused, out of embarrassment, her aunt’s offer to help her change, but she thought she had a pretty good idea how diapers were supposed to go on, having helped Pinkie Pie look after Pound and Pumpkin Cake several times, in the hope of earning a foal-sitting cutie mark.
With trepidation and a little curiosity, she ripped open the package along the tear-line at the top, and pulled out a single pristine diaper. It’s bigger than I thought it would be, she thought. It looks just like the diapers Pound and Pumpkin wear, but way bigger. Its plastic surface was soft to touch, and crinkled as she unfolded it carefully to take a better look. Most of the diaper was white, with blue trimmings on the leg guards, tail guard and wings. The whole front was largely taken up by the same Wonderbolts graphic that appeared on the diaper packet. The picture does look kind of cool, she admitted to herself, pity it has to be on a stupid diaper.
The storm outside was still showing no sign of abating, and the rain continued to drum steadily against the window pane. The little orange filly yawned suddenly; she hadn’t realized how tired she was, and how late it had gotten. It’s now or never she decided.
She took the diaper, and laid it out open on top of her bed covers, trying to remember what Pinkie or Mrs. Cake would do next when they were changing the twins. After slipping out of her pajamas, she gingerly maneuvered herself into position, squatting naked over the open diaper, then sitting herself down in the middle of it, and lying back. Fishing around for the tabs to do the diaper up, she was confused that she couldn’t find them, until she realized she was facing the wrong way. After scooting around, she pulled the front of the diaper up, covering her whole belly. She found the back wings of the diaper, and pulled them around one at a time. Finally, she pulled the tapes out, and fastened them to the front of the diaper, so that it fitted quite tightly.
She was found herself surprised by how snug it felt. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as she had thought it might be. The inside of the diaper was soft against her skin, and its thickness somehow felt almost... nice?
Yawning again, she turned her night light off, and got back into bed, crinkling slightly, her padded rear slipping against the clean sheets. She lay there, hugging the Wonderbolt plushy her aunt had given her, and listening to the rain hammering on the window pane, wondering whether Rainbow Dash was still out there somewhere, directing the storm. A few moments later, she was fast asleep.
Scootaloo was in the middle of a dream about flying with the Wonderbolts when she woke with a start to find herself peeing.
It was still dark, and outside the rain was still pouring down and the wind howling. The time on her bedside alarm clock read 4:20am.
Her first instinct was to feel her sheets to see how wet they were, before she remembered what she was wearing. Running a hoof over her the front of her diaper, she could feel it was swollen and warm where she had just wet herself. The outside though was dry, and the plastic silky smooth to touch and a bit squishy. It felt pretty weird, but she had to admit it was a lot less of a hassle than a wet bed.
Her eyelids, still heavy with sleep, drooped, and she lay back down and soon dozed off again.
This time she dreamt about her parents. They were there with her, cuddling her and playing games together as a family. At one point, she was riding on her father’s shoulders, making zooming, flying, noises as he galloped and flew about the house for her. Afterwards, she wasn’t sure if any of this was a surpressed memory from when she was a little filly, or if it was just part of the dream.
By the time she woke again a few hours later, it was nominally light outside, though the sun itself was nowhere to be seen, hidden behind the thick, dark layer of storm clouds that hung over Ponyville.
She yawned, stretching out in bed, her diaper making a soft crinkling noise under the covers when she moved. It still feels comfortable, she thought. When she wet the bed, the sheets would normally go cold really quickly, and after that she normally didn’t like to stay in bed. This was quite different though, and the front of her diaper was still really warm.
She lay there for quite a while, just listening to the sound of rain on the thatched roof, and enjoying how cozy it was, despite the wet diaper, tucked up in her dry bedcovers, listening to the rain.
She couldn’t stay in bed for long however; her aunt didn’t care what time she got up for breakfast on weekends, but she’d agreed to meet up with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom at the CMC clubhouse by around ten, and it was already almost a quarter-past-nine.
Getting up wasn’t fun; she was stiff and sore all over with bruises from her crash-landing the day before, and the floor was cold under hoof as she clambered out of bed.
Padding over to her bedroom window, she poked her muzzle through the gap in the curtains and peered sleepily at the lane below her bedroom window. The ground had turned to muddy slurry overnight, and in the distance, and a small tree had been blown over outside one of the neighbours houses.
Slipping into some black socks to stay warm, she stood in front of her bedroom mirror, appraising herself and her new undergarment in the light of day. The diaper fitted her well, and she once again found herself drawn to the Wonderbolts designs, despite her reservations. The front of the diaper was clearly pretty wet; the swelling was easily visible, and there was a yellow tint showing through the diaper in the most heavily soaked areas. She turned around, looking over her shoulder to examine the rear of her diaper in the mirror. There was a wet patch at the bottom, but the rest of the back seemed mostly dry.
Undoing the tabs on one side of the diaper, she slipped it down around her hooves, letting it fall to the ground, before picking it up gingerly with one hoof, and disposing of it in her trash basket.
***
Mrs Adelia Hardcover, Chairpony of the Ponyville book club, was a library Patron with a capital P.
Twilight looked up from the novel she was reading, seated behind the issues desk, to be greeted by Mrs Hardcover’s concerned face frowning down at her through thick half-moon reading glasses.
“Miss Twilight,” Adelia said in a hushed voice, nevertheless managing to carefully emphasise the word Miss. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but those fillies over there are behaving most strangely! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they appear to have been watching us both for some time. It has quite put me off my reading.”
Twilight had noticed. The Ponyville Library was relatively quiet for a Saturday morning, the weather having kept most ponies indoors. Apart from Mrs Hardcover, a young couple from Fillydelphia had come and gone looking for guide books and local information, and a plump middle-aged mare was sitting in one corner, working her way through a small stack of well-hoofed romance novellas. And then there was them.
All three fillies were wearing black slacks and hoodies, with the hoods pulled up well past their ears, so that only the tips of their muzzles were visible poking out, with the rest of their faces in shadow. One of them was also wearing sunglasses, presumably for looks rather than protection, since it was dingy in the library a the best of times, and the sun had last been seen fleeing before the storm the night before.
They were sitting in one corner pretending to read a rather dense tome which they had hastily obtained from a stack of books waiting to be shelved. Every now and then, one of them would glance around the room surreptitiously, and then furtively scribble notes in a black pocket note pad. A couple of times, when Twilight hadn’t been looking, she could have sworn she had heard the click of a camera.
“Thanks Mrs Hardcover,” Twilight said patiently, putting on her best librarian’s face. “You go sit back down, and I’ll deal with this.”
Mrs Hardcover ambled stiffly back to the reading desk, making complaining noises about her arthritis. Once seated, she resumed pretending to read her knitting magazine, while watching the three fillies pretend not to watch her.
“What in hay are those girls up to?” Twilight wondered out loud, under her breath.
“Beats me,” whispered Spike, who had been curled up reading comics under her desk, “they’ve just been sitting there looking at that book for the past hour. Maybe they’re doing some research for school?”
“Since when did Cherilee assign homework on Equestrian macro-economics?”
“Or they’re trying for an economics cutie-mark?” suggested Spike.
Twilight rolled her eyes and sighed, “Doubtful. Let’s find out shall we?” she laid her book down, got up from behind the desk, and trotted over to the corner where the three fillies were sitting.
“Good morning girls!” she said brightly “Nice to see you reading! How are we today?”.
The library was illuminated brightly for a second, and a loud clap of thunder punctuated Twilight’s greeting, making the fillies jump.
Twilight glanced down at Sweetie Belle’s notebook, sitting open on the reading desk. It was hard to make out the filly’s flowery hoofwriting, but she was able to read the last entry: ‘1100 hours - Ekstensive ninja spying on T. Sparkle and other ponies at library has so far revealed no information about L.’
“Uh, we’re fine thanks Ms Twilight,” said Applebloom nervously.
“That’s good to hear. How are you finding Tiltenhoof?”
All three fillies looked thoroughly confused. “Tilten-who?” asked Scootaloo.
“Baron von Tiltenhoof,” Twilight explained cheerfully, “he wrote that book you’re reading: A general treatise on the projected net benefits of interventionist monetary policy on the domestic currency markets of Equestria and her principalities.”
“Oh, right, yeah. It’s... pretty... good I guess?” hazarded Scootaloo, her eyes glazing over behind her sunglasses.
“I…I really like its font?” contributed Sweetie Belle.
“It’s a seminal work”, continued Twilight. “If you’re interested, we also have Friedpony’s critique of Tiltenhoof’s general treatise: ‘The path to freedom: the argument for free market reform and the deregulation of Equestria’s money supply.’ I can ask Spike to find it for you if you want to borrow it.”
“Actually ah... we kind-of... um, need to get going!” suggested Applebloom hurriedly.
“Oh yeah,” said Sweetie Belle, “I promised to go help Rarity with...some...things...” she trailed off.
“Me too,” finished Scootaloo.
That seemed to do the trick, thought Twilight, as she returned to her desk to continue reading her book. The fillies had already hastily returned Tiltenhoof’s Treatise in the shelving pile, and were now busy packing up their things. Goodness knows what those three are up to. I’ll have to have a word with Rarity and Applejack when I see them, she thought.
As it turned out, that was a lot sooner than expected. Before the fillies had had time to leave, Applejack burst into the library, panting and drenched from head to hoof. She was followed by Rarity, who also looked concerned, but somewhat less dishevelled, sporting a fashionable ensemble of rain-coat, boots and matching umbrella.
“Twilight, have you seen Applebl...?” Applejack trailed off as she noticed her sister and her two friends over in the corner of the library, still packing up their saddle bags.
She ran over to Applebloom, and gave her a crushing hug, much to the filly’s surprise and embarrassment. “Applebloom, girls, I’m so glad you’re OK! I was so worried.”
Applebloom looked up at her sister in alarm, “what’s up sis?” she asked, wide eyed.
“The storm... the dam upstream collapsed, and the river’s a-floodin’ real bad. When I couldn’t find you, I was worried you girls might have been a playin’ down there by the river near your clubhouse, and been swept away...” Applejack stopped, blinking back tears of relief.
Applebloom was staring, not used to seeing her sister cry. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were just standing around, staring at their hooves, and trying to look like they weren’t dressed like ninjas.
Rarity placed a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder, “there now darling, I told you that everything would be just fine.” She turned to Twilight, “She came looking for the girls at my place, and I said I thought Sweetie had mentioned she was going to the library this morning, so we came straight here. I do hope they haven’t been any trouble?”
“No, of course not,” Twilight assured Rarity, deciding that this wasn’t the time to bring up Sweetie Belle’s notebook.
“Is everything OK?” asked Applebloom.
“The farm’s taken right weathering,” said Applejack, dabbing at her eyes with the silk handkerchief Rarity had offered her, “a big part of the lower orchard is flooded, and it’s still raining cats and dogs. Ain’t none too good for the apple trees having wet roots. Big Mac is down there now with Caramel, laying out sandbags, but I’m not sure they’ll be able to make a difference in time.”
“We should help,” said Twilight matter-of-factly.
“Absolutely,” agreed Rarity, “so long as it’s not too muddy of course.”
“Well, thank you both kindly,” Applejack said, “I can’t say no. We’ll need every able-bodied pony we can get if we’re gonna stop the floodin’ before it wrecks the harvest, and there’s a danger if we don't stop the floodin' that the land could slip and we could loose half the trees in the orchard.
“I’ll be right with you, just let me grab my clipboard and quill!” yelled Twilight, already running upstairs.
***
Applejack set a fast pace as they cantered through the rain towards Sweet Apple Acres, with Twilight and Rarity hot on her hooves.
Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom tumbled along behind them as as fast as they could. Normally Scootaloo would have given them a lift, but the muddy ground rendered her scooter useless, so she’d left it at home today.
“That was kind-of boring!” wheezed Sweetie Belle as they ran. “We didn’t even find out any secrets!”
“Do you think Twilight suspected we were spying on her?” Panted Applebloom.
“Nah, don’t think so” Sweetie Belle panted, “she seemed more interested in what book we were reading.”
“Yeesh!,” Scootaloo made a face. “That Tiltenhoof guy needs to learn how to write snappier titles if he wants anypony to read his books.”
They had reached the outskirts of Sweet Apple Acres. The farm had clearly taken a punishing in the storm the night before, and the old hanging sign at the farm gate had come unsecured at one end, and was dangling by the other, squeaking and screeching forlornly as it flapped about in the wind.
The flooding had turned the lower third of the orchard into a muddy lake, that looked to be two or three hooves deep in some places. Away in the distance, they could see the trunk of their treehouse, thrusting up out of the water. The actual clubhouse was still above the waterline with the ramp-steps descending into the murky depths. Of the jump they had constructed below the tree the day before, there was no sign.
So much for our dirt jumping cutie marks, Scootaloo thought, but she didn’t say anything.
“I can’t believe this happened so quickly!” breathed Applebloom, “None of this flooding was here when I left home this morning.”
“Come on girls... lets get out of this frightful rain!” Rarity called back.
Following the grown-up ponies, they trudged towards to the hay barn at the top of the lower orchard, the makeshift headquarters for the sandbagging operation.
A ring of sandbags, stacked two high, had been set up around the barn to protect the hay inside. Granny Smith sat on a folding chair in the doorway, barking directions to anyone who would listen.
The barn having been secured, Big Mac, Caramel and a few other ponies were now working feverishly near the bottom of the orchard to construct a wall of sandbags parallel to the river bank, to help prevent further flooding if the river level rose further.
***
“Ow! Watch it, that’s my hoof!, complained Sweetie Belle loudly.”
It did not take long for the three fillies to establish that they weren’t very good at helping to move sandbags, being barely being able to lift one off the ground between the three of them.
This put them in company with Rarity, who had instead decided to make herself useful by heading back to the farmhouse to make everyone hot tea and coco.
Twilight had reluctantly left her clipboard in the barn, and was helping Applejack load up a cart with sandbags to take down to the river bank. Applejack was in a fretting mood, and the fillies figured it best to stay well back, lest they get in her way.
Applejack had hitched herself to the cart, and was about to head down to the river with a fresh load, when she looked up to see Big Macintosh approaching, on his way back up to the barn for more sandbags.
“Big Mac! The girls were fine. I was just heading your way with more...” she broke off, noticing for the first time that Big Mac was accompanied on foot by a bedraggled, tired looking Rainbow Dash. “What the hay is SHE doing here?” asked Applejack accusingly.
“She’s helping, AJ,” said Big Mac calmly.
“No she’s not!” declared Applejack adamantly.
Dash cleared her throat. “I’m real sorry about flooding AJ. It was supposed to be a small controlled storm, but these punk clouds slipped away from us and went rogue! We were out all night last night trying to bring them back under control. Half my weather team are in hospital right now with lightning burns...”
“Save it Rainbow, I don’t want to hear it. We don’t need your kind of help.” Applejack turned her back on Dash, and without saying anything more, headed off towards the river bank, pulling the laden cart behind her.
Rainbow Dash was looking down at the ground in front of her, blinking back tears. It was the first time any of the fillies had ever seen her cry.
Big Mac reached out a hoof and placing it on Rainbow’s shoulder, looked like he was about to say something apologetic, but Dash beat him to it.
“Sorry,” she sighed. “I bucked up... I should go”.
She shrugged off Big Mac’s hoof, and flew off.
Scootaloo stood watching as her idol flew off. She was surprised to find she was choking back tears of her own, and she wasn’t sure why.
After a few moments, Twilight and Big Mac exchanged glances.
“I think we’d better go have a word with AJ,” suggested Twilight.
“Eyup,” he nodded. “Girls, stay here with Granny”.
“Wow” breathed Sweetie Belle, when Twilight and Big Mac had left, leaving them alone with Granny Smith, who had fallen asleep.
“That wasn’t fair!” Scootaloo gulped. “The flood wasn’t Dash’s fault”.
“She didn’t mean it,” said Applebloom quietly, as much for her own reassurance, as her friends. “She’s just in one of her moods.”
“Rarity and Applejack have had lots of arguments,” offered Sweetie Belle, with forced cheerfulness. “But they always make up in the end.”
But Scootaloo wasn’t listening. Her stomach felt tight and knotted, and her heart was pounding. Something about having seen Rainbow Dash reduced to tears had made her feel confused, or maybe angry?
“I’m going after Rainbow Dash” she announced suddenly.
“We can all help look for her,” suggested Applebloom.
“No. Thanks, but I want to be alone for a bit,” Scootaloo stuttered. Then she too ran off, into the rain.
***
Avoiding Applejack, and the rest of the grown-up ponies working down by the river, she cut across the orchard, wading hoof deep through the mud and water until she reached the belt of hedge-rows that served as wind-breakers and marked the edge of Sweet Apple Acres.
Once she had cleared the farm, she headed back toward the river, heading upstream while looking out for Dash, whom she’d last seen flying in this direction, towards the Everfree Forest.
The river-banks were steeper here, and though the river was swollen and churning, it wasn’t overflowing the embankments.
She was walking into the wind, and a steady patter of rain streamed down her face, mixing with her tears, and running off her nose, and down her muzzle. Shivering, she pulled the hood of her black ninja-spy track-top up, but it was already soaked through, and offered little additional warmth.
After walking for another fifteen minutes and finding no sign of Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo came across the ruptured stone weir. Normally the river would have diverged at the weir, with half the water being diverted to the stream that flowed through the middle of Ponyville, and the other half flowing on through Sweet Apple Acres. However, a couple of boulders had been dislodged by floodwater upstream, allowing the full force of the river to flow directly towards the farm.
Having more or less given up hope of finding Rainbow Dash for now, Scootaloo collapsed down under the partial shelter of a willow tree.
A familiar wave of self-loathing washed over her. She was pathetic... she told herself. Worse than useless. She was a stupid filly with no parents, who pissed herself at night like a little foal, and had to wear diapers. She still couldn’t fly, when most other pegasai her age had mastered it years ago, and she didn’t even have her cutie mark yet!
A flash of lightning, followed by a loud boom of rolling thunder broke Scootaloo out of her melancholy inner diatribe. It took a while for her to regain her composure, but eventually she ran out of tears. Wiping her face dry with her hoof, she stared absently into the turgid river below, her body trembling involuntarily from the cold.
She wasn’t really sure why she had let herself get so upset about Rainbow Dash and Applejack’s argument. True, Rainbow was the closest thing she had to a sister, or in fact any surviving family member apart from her Aunt, and she felt that Applejack was being unfair blaming her for the flooding.
It was more than that though. Rainbow Dash was normally so outgoing and confident and brave and… awesome! Dash was everything Scootaloo desperately wanted to be herself, but which, secretly, she was worried she could never achieve. So it had been quite shocking to see her mentor upset, crying, and to realise that even Dash wasn’t invulnerable. It was also the first time that she had truly felt that maybe Dash needed her help, rather than the other way around.
Suddenly Scootaloo she knew what she had to do. If she could fix the dam herself, maybe Applejack would calm down, and stop blaming Rainbow Dash for the flooding, and Rainbow Dash could stop blaming herself.
She briefly considered going back to get help from her friends, so they could try for their dam-building cutie marks, but this was something she felt she had to at least try doing alone.
Scootaloo rose unsteadily to her hooves, looking about for useful materials. Helpfully, an outcrop of small boulders was strewn about the bank overlooking the weir, left over from its construction, and subsequent repairs over the years. Most of them were too heavy for her to move, but a few of them looked like they might be manageable.
After some straining, she managed to move one of the boulders a little way. It was heavier than the sandbags she had tried to move earlier, but less awkward to move. Once dislodged, it was not too difficult to roll it into a position overlooking the weir below. Giving it a final shove, she sent it rolling down the embankment, and splashing into the river just upstream of where the weir had been breached. So far, so good; all she had to do was roll enough boulders down, and eventually they would plug the hole in the weir, and reduce the flow.
It took about half an hour of hard labour to roll another four small boulders into the river. Stopping for a minute to survey her handiwork, she was disappointed to see that the river’s flow hadn’t altered all that much. She figured it would take at least as many rocks again to make much of a difference, and she was fast running out of boulders she could move by herself.
The inside of her muzzle was dry, and her stomach had been growling ominously, but she ignored it, pressing on. She was panting and sweating profusely, but at least she no longer felt cold.
The next smallest boulder she could find was close to the river bank, and slightly up stream from the weir, under the shade of a gnarled old ash tree. The stone was half the size of Scootaloo herself, and covered in moss. She braced herself with her her hind hooves against the trunk of the ash tree, and her back against the boulder and pushed against the it as hard as she could. The moss made the boulder slippery, and she had to keep re-positioning herself, but eventually the rock started to move.
Scootaloo had just managed to manoeuvre the boulder into position above the weir, and was preparing push it over the edge when something moving fast in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and she looked up, startled.
She was just in time to catch sight of a multi coloured blur flying fast and at altitude, disappearing over the tree line towards the Everfree Forest.
Dash clearly hadn’t seen her, and by now she was probably well outside of shouting distance, but even so, Scootaloo clambered up on top of the boulder she’d been pushing, and waved her front hooves wildly in the air and shouting in case Dash happened to come back her way and notice her.
At least that was her intention. As she was waving, she suddenly lost her balance on the slippery boulder, and toppled off, rolling towards the edge of river bank. Flailing, her hooves struggled to find some purchase, but came away empty. Unable to break her momentum, she toppled backwards over the cliff, and plunged down towards the raging torrents below.
She landed in the water just upstream of the weir. Winded from the fall, she gasped for breath, and found herself inhaling water as she fought to stay above the surface.
She could feel the current sucking her under as it sped her towards the weir, and for a few moments, she felt a rising sense of panic as the cold water closed in all around her, and she couldn’t breath. Then the current dashed her against the weir, and she hit her head on a boulder, and everything went black.
Author's Note
Sorry for the ridiculous wait for this chapter; I've had a draft written for quite a while, but I've been busy with work and things and never quite got around to finishing it till now. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this part; the next chapter will have more diapers I promise!
