The sun was starting to set on another simple winter day, the ponies below still trying to adapt to the cold and snow, but still excited for the holidays the winter brought with it.
The season of winter was a very important one to Equestria, bringing ponies together to brave the cold. Families grew closer, friends grew stronger, and the hardships of the coming cold only seemed to warm their hearts. Many took time off to see their loved ones, with some organizations seeming out of work. The Wonderbolts tour had ended for the year, the royal guards on duty were at its annual low, and many celebrities seemed to disappear off the map.
All was silent, despite what her eyes told her. The gentle snowflakes, expertly crafted from Cloudsdale, fell upon the earth. They were so light and gentle, that they didn't make a sound as they landed, as if they were ashamed of being here. Reminds me of Fluttershy, the filly mused.
It was a kind of sad thought, that all of these tiny little flakes were all hoofcrafted by pegasi in Cloudsdale, only to have them land upon infinitely more and instantly forgotten. She wasn't an artist by any means, but she would imagine being rather disheartened by this fact.
Scootaloo didn't have much time to revel in this, however, as a ball of snow collided with her flank.
“Ow! Dad, stop it!” The little filly cried, trying to use her small wings to better evade the stallion's wintery assaults. Her winter coat managed to shield her from most of the snow ballistics, but the water was starting to soak through.
She wasn't about to let that stop her. No, she had revenge to seek.
Sending a few return volleys at him, the two of them found themselves behind opposite cover, waiting for the other to strike first. Scootaloo lobbed one of her projectiles, with no real target in mind, simply hoping to coax her dad out from the bench.
Scootaloo acted quickly, raising up from her cover and launching her snowball before her dad had a chance to blink. She giggled as she could her him spit out snow from his open mouth.
He was blinded from the snow, and the projectile she had just thrown. Scootaloo dove behind a snowpony, and waited, grasping a large hoofful of snow. As she stood there, she could hear the stallion begin searching for her. Her father was unsuspecting, as he casually strolled up to the snowpony, calling her name.
The hoofsteps crunched in the snow, and grew louder and louder as he drew closer. She could tell he was right on the other side of the snowpony, and she waited for him to poke his head around the side.
Then came a satisfying thud, as the snow splashed upon his face, the little filly giggling until her belly hurt.
Underneath the snow, her dad gave a sinister grin. “Oh, now that was not nice, little filly. Keep acting like that, and a wendigo might just eat you up!”
“No!” Scootaloo giggled, as she ran away from her attacker. The little filly saw her target just a few yards away, and burst through the door.
She was suddenly hit with a wave of captured heat. Like a bubble she had pierced through, she cantered inside, suddenly overcome with fatigue. The beautiful scent of her mother's cooking almost carried her to the kitchen, before a sudden, and shocking realization set in.
Before she knew which way was up, she suddenly found herself on her back, seeing her dad above her.
“Oh no! The wendigo got you, Scoots! It's gonna gobble you up!” Her father shouted, before he bent down and blew obnoxiously upon Scootaloo's belly.
A very powerful laughter erupted from her, writhing from her father's raspberry upon her tummy. “Dad, stop it!”
“I can't! It's too strong, Scootaloo!” He shouted in mock terror, before blowing against her coat once more.
The sudden onslaught of giggles had summoned the mare from the kitchen. She simply smiled at the scene.
“Mom, help!” Scootaloo cried, hysterical laughter making it hard to speak properly.
“I can't, honey. Only if your dad can put logs on the fire, will the wendigo stop eating you.” She said, giving the stallion a slightly demanding look. He simply chuckled, before letting his daughter go to feed the fire.
Scootaloo panted, tired from the exertion of the day's activities, but sighed wistfully as the comfort of the fire formed around her. The heat doubled as her dad threw the wood into it. Grabbing the blanket from the couch, he covered both Scootaloo and himself, making sure they were nice and snug.
“You warming up?” He asked the filly.
She nodded, as her mother came trotting out from the kitchen with three cups, steam rising from them. Carefully laying the tray in front of them, she took her place next to Scootaloo under the blanket. The filly could feel her father's wing drape over the both of them.
Scootaloo cautiously grabbed the cup with her hooves, and took a very subtle sip. Very hot, but very soothing chocolate raced down her throat. She could feel the heat spread through her body, disposing of any remnants of cold from her coat. She shivered in between the fur of her parents, reveling in the comfort of it all.
“You like it?” Her mother asked, smiling at her reaction.
“Yeah! Way better than dad's!”
“Hey now! At least you get some! We never had time for hot chocolate,” The stallion retorted.
The mare chuckled, before looking at the clock. “Whoa. It's time for bed little missy.”
Scootaloo looked at the clock herself, groaning to see that it was only 7:00 pm. “But mom... It's not that late.”
“No, but we have a lot of errands to run tomorrow morning. Then we got the Pageant to go to! I heard Applebloom and Sweetie Belle's sisters are going to play in it.” Her mother smiled, before moving to push her towards the stairs.
Scootaloo begrudgingly accepted her fate, as she stomped her way up the stairs, mumbling her farewells for the evening.
The two ponies remained within the confines of the blanket, relaxing among the heat of the fire.
“I'm really glad you made it home earlier than normal,” The mare said.
“You can thank Spitfire for that. She just became an Aunt after all,” The stallion replied.
“Glad she decided to spread that good will over to you. We've both missed you.” She shuffled a bit.
“I did too. Scootaloo is my favorite little filly.”
“Hey!” The mare objected. She begun to relax as his wing drew her closer.
“And your my favorite mare, Firefly. How could I forget about my love light, huh?”
Firefly blushed. Her pink cheeks becoming much deeper in the light of the fire. “Don't call me that, Soarin'. It's embarrassing.”
“So the mighty Firefly can still be embarrassed? I thought you used to love that nickname,” The Wonderbolt objected.
“Yeah, back in our cheesy teen romance stage, but I like to think we're a little more... I don't know... mature than that,” Firefly replied.
“'Mature' how?” Soarin' asked, already predicting the sultry glance his wife gave him.
“Put out the fire, and I'll show you.”
