Some Strange, Flightless Bird
As the Wild Geese Fly South
Dried leaves twirled, skittering against the ground, as they were caught in a chilly autumn breeze. Despite the sunshine being very warm, the scent of fall was filling the air and winter was setting into the shade. Already, a crisp hint of snow tweaked Scootaloo’s nose as she sat half hidden in the tall grass. Bare black trees, their branches empty of their green summer kirtles, clawed at the amber-colored sky. A beautiful sunset, full of crimsons and golds, was slowly easing itself down behind the horizon. Overheard, wild geese honked tiredly at one another as they slowly banked and came to land on the field beneath the hill where Scootaloo lay.
She was tucked quite out of sight, and at least two miles out of town. The hill was full of dry wheatgrass and crackled when the young orange filly pushed through it. Thankfully, the wind rustling through the high grass around her masked the sound of her tiny sniffles. It was a nice little spot, perfect for sitting and watching the sunset, but Scootaloo wasn’t much interested in sunsets these days. The cold earth bled away her body heat, and even though she couldn’t bear to go back to town, she began to shiver in spite of herself.
One by one, the geese honking below her quieted down and they began cuddling up for the night. A few weary stragglers landed late, and they were hissed at and forced to the outskirts of the clearing. Scootaloo felt bad for the late geese. After all, that’s what she was—a goose that had lagged behind the rest of the group and was now being kept away because of it.
Scootaloo’s ears twitched and she picked her head up, hearing the telltale sound of a pony trudging through the grass. She curled up as small as possible and hoped that the pony hadn’t seen her scooter at the bottom of the hill. Talking to other ponies didn’t sound very appealing right now.
It was Fluttershy; the mild-mannered pegasus was walking through the grass, bearing a bag of seed sturdily on her shoulders. Keeping a respectable distance away from the wild geese, she began spreading out the seed and scattering it amid the field. Because of the cool autumn wind and the noise of the grass, Scootaloo couldn’t hear what Fluttershy was saying, but evidently it was enough to make the geese less wary. Fluttershy emptied the bag of seed and then draped the sack over her shoulders, skipping up the hill with quite a bit more bounce in her step. The geese ventured forward and began devouring the seed as soon as she crested the hill.
Fluttershy practically tripped over Scootaloo, and the orange filly couldn’t help but yelp in alarm. “Oh, goodness!” Fluttershy cried, “I’m so sorry...Scootaloo, is that you?”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo mumbled, looking away. She raised a hoof to press her spiky pink mane further over her eyes, so Fluttershy couldn’t tell that she’d been crying. “Just watching the sunset.”
“It is lovely from up here,” Fluttershy remarked, looking behind her at the last vestiges of the sun, “I was just giving the geese over there some food to help them on their journey.” She paused, looking at the silent filly. “Are you okay, Scootaloo?”
“’m fine,” she muttered.
Fluttershy sat down in the grass. “It’s awfully cold out here; would you like to come back to the cottage and have some hot cocoa with me?” she ventured.
“No.”
There was a long pause while Fluttershy listened to Scootaloo’s tiny sniffs. “You know,” Fluttershy said hesitantly, “I just made some oatmeal cookies the other day—would you like one?”
“No.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“No, I said,” Scootaloo snapped, sounding irritated. “Just go away, okay?”
Instead, Fluttershy lay down in the grass and laid her head on her hooves. The sun had set, and it was becoming dark quickly. Leaving a filly out here by themselves, so close to the Everfree Forest, was unthinkable. So Fluttershy stayed quiet until Scootaloo’s sniffles died down. By the time this happened, the russet and gold colors in the clouds had faded, only to be replaced by darker purples and grays. Clouds were beginning to thicken and gather near the mountains; it would probably snow tonight.
“Are you just going to stay there all day?” Scootaloo demanded.
“I like to watch the sunset too,” Fluttershy said quietly.
The young filly pawed at the ground and snorted. She was well and truly cold now, and her shivering was rattling the grass around her, but the older mare next to her seemed unaffected by the cold. Scootaloo sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m okay,” Scootaloo sighed after a minute. “You can go home.”
Fluttershy sat up as well. “Only if you come home with me,” she teased.
“No,” Scootaloo said firmly.
“All right then,” Fluttershy lay back down. There was another long pause, broken only by the muted honking of cranky geese. “Scootaloo...do you miss Rainbow Dash? She’ll be back soon, you know.”
Scootaloo burst into tears.
It took Fluttershy so aback that it was a moment or two before she scooped the filly up; Scootaloo’s small body was wracked with sobs, and she was gasping incoherently for breath. Fluttershy brought both her wings to surround the small foal, hoping to give her some kind of comfort, and began stroking her mane. Scootaloo hiccupped and cried out, “I know she’s gonna be back and I don’t have anything to show her.”
“What?” Fluttershy asked, still stroking her mane.
“I s-said...” her words were so blurred with tears that it was difficult to understand them, “I p-promised her that I’d k-know how to fly by the time she c-came back,” Scootaloo bawled, “b-but I’ve been t-trying all w-week and I still ca-can’t fly.”
“Oh, dear,” the yellow Pegasus soothed, “Scootaloo, Rainbow Dash knows you won’t know how to fly by the time she comes back. It’s only for a week. And you’re improving so much, she’s so proud of you!”
“N-no she’s not,” Scootaloo sobbed, “sh-she doesn’t know wh-what to do with me b-because I can’t f-fly. I c-can’t even visit her on c-Cloudsdale a-anymore! I’m g-grounded permanently!”
That was what she was crying about then—she had been permanently grounded. The same thing had happened to Fluttershy years ago, when she was only a few years older than Scootaloo. Pegasi who were too weak or unable to fly properly were grounded for their own safety, in case they fell off one of the clouds. Fluttershy hadn’t exactly been inconsolable when the Cloudsdale Board of Directors grounded her, since Cloudsdale was full of nothing but bullies and competitive flyers. She didn’t miss Cloudsdale at all, and on the days she did visit, it was always a relief to get her hooves back on the ground.
“Scootaloo,” Fluttershy said softly, “Rainbow Dash loves you. And I know it hurts to be a grounded pegasus, but trust me, as soon as you can fly properly, you can visit Rainbow Dash all you want.”
“B-but I can’t l-live with her,” Scootaloo said, burying her face in Fluttershy’s wings. “I c-can’t be her little s-sister like I always d-dreamed.”
Fluttershy didn’t know what to say. If Rainbow Dash had been here, she would have known exactly what to do. But she wasn’t the Element of Kindness for nothing; the animal caretaker tried again. “Scootaloo, you can still be a really good friend to Rainbow Dash. I mean, I live in Ponyville with all of my animal friends, and Rainbow Dash still visits me.”
Scootaloo broke away from the warmth of Fluttershy’s embrace. “You don’t get it!” the orange filly shouted at her, “She’s in Manehattan and she’s gonna be a Wonderbolt and she’s gonna move there and forget about me, ‘cos she’ll have other friends that can fly really fast and can work with clouds, but I can’t, because I can’t fly and I can’t make her proud and I can’t be a Wonderbolt and I can’t be Rainbow Dash’s little sister!”
Fluttershy just looked at her, her heart aching for the little foal.
“I just wish...” Scootaloo choked up again, “I j-just wish I could fly. I th-thought maybe if I could f-fly by the time Rainbow Dash comes b-back, she wouldn’t forget about me.”
“She’d never forget about you,” Fluttershy said, “I know she doesn’t talk about it a lot, but Rainbow Dash loves you very much, Scootaloo. She’s already very proud of you. And she may not be a Wonderbolt, she’s only just trying out.”
“I know,” she said, very small, “but whenever I wish for Rainbow Dash not to be a Wonderbolt I feel bad.”
“Oh, Scootaloo...” Fluttershy began.
But Scootaloo had had enough of Fluttershy’s sympathy; she turned around, tears stinging her eyes, and raced towards the edge of the hill. It was a very steep hill, perfect for sledding in the wintertime or rolling in the springtime, but Scootaloo could only see a vaulting off point, a spot where she could jump. Rainbow Dash would never come back from Manehattan, because Rainbow Dash was the best flyer in all of Equestria and would become a Wonderbolt in a snap; Scootaloo would be left alone in the orphanage, alone and cold and waiting because autumn was only the beginning of winter.
She threw herself off the hill and her small wings buzzed rapidly, straining to lift her weight.
The grass tickled her belly, and she took off, hardly noticing that her hooves never touched the ground.
Author's Note
Autumn is one of my favorite seasons, but it always makes me feel cold, alone, and nostalgic. I suppose that's why I like it--it's what a writer thrives on.
This was written mostly as an exercise for myself, to see how much I could write in an hour. I'm sure it's rough and the pacing is helter-skelter, but I'm rather fond of it, myself. It's the first MLP fanfiction I've applied serious effort into (okay, not *serious* effort, but effort nonetheless).
Also: Make a Scootachicken joke and I'll axe you. X_X
