It was the most exciting and anticipated time of the year. With Hearth's Warming Eve just on the annual horizon, little fillies and colts could barely contain their joy for the upcoming promise of gifts. It was the most heartwarming season, despite the constant blistering cold that encompassed them. A time for families to reunite and come together, For ponies to be thankful for what they have, and for what they may wish for.
But that was not why she was anxious. As the young pegasus cantered down the street, the series of brightly lit purple and pink lamps filled her eyes. The gently flickering flames dancing on the candles shone brightly against the soft fall of the snow. Hanging from every roof, from every branch on every tree, hung decorations of purple and pink, long line of the splendid lanterns hanging from wires that darted from house to house across the town.
Her eyes sped from light to light, the snow gently falling and resting upon her muzzle. The fantastic decorations served to only to distract her from her melancholy. The sudden reminder of why she was here crashed her back into reality, as she wandered amongst Ponyville's various avenues.
As Scootaloo sulked about the village, she felt completely hopeless. She had hoped to find him here, hoping that she wouldn't have to be in the cold alone. The warming lights and overall happy attitude of the other ponies only served to depress her further. She watched as they thanked each other, passing early Hearth's Warming Eve gifts, hugging each other...
...Kissing each other.
It was a week before Hearth's Warming Eve, and Ponyville was participating in an old tradition that few cities in Equestrian still did. The Forgiveness Festival. A special time to make amends for anything a pony had done wrong over the past month. A way to apologize and heal relationships, just in time for the happiest part of the year.
Scootaloo's ears fell, her mood falling further, as she sat down by an illuminated fountain. She let out a heavy sigh, beginning to wonder what the other Cutie Mark Crusaders must have been doing that night. She hoped that they were in front of a fire in the comforts of their homes, not having to take part in this festival. A strange pang of guilt overtook her, as she began to wonder if she had to apologize to them for anything.
The feeling quickly fading, as she was still reeling from the reason she was here, waiting for him to arrive. A thin layer of snow began to form on top of the filly as she waited, staring off into the infinitely long street in front of her. She hoped against hope that she would see the shadow of a colt form from the lights.
A shiver fell down her spine, snow falling off of her form. She couldn't stay out much longer. The chill of winter began to nip at her coat, and the moon was rising higher into the sky. The bustle of Ponyville continued strong, but her eyes began to feel slightly heavier with each passing minute. She pushed herself off the cold marble, resigning to her fatigue.
A voice called out to her, accompanied by the crunching of hooves in the snow, “Hey! Scootaloo, over here!”
A surge of energy raced through her as the sound of the voice. She lifted her head, scanning the avenue for the source of the sound amongst the array of light.
A little grey pegasus colt raced over to her, wearing more winter clothing than she did. The colt had a look of pure relief and happiness when he saw her, but it quickly turned to guilt once he saw her face.
“H-Hey Rumble...What are you doin' here?” Scootaloo asked, hoping she knew the answer.
He scratched the side of his leg. “Well, it's the Forgiveness Festival and all... And...” He sighed, resigning to his fate. “I came to say I'm sorry.”
Scootaloo was showered with relief, but she couldn't bring herself to forgive him just yet. “Sorry for what?”
“You know why!” Rumble shouted.
“I wanna hear you say it,” Scootaloo demanded, a sly grin stretching across her face.
“You're not my mom...” Rumble mumbled.
“What?”
“I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I got us caught passing notes, and I'm sorry that it almost got you grounded.” Rumble sighed, hoping this ordeal was over. The incredulous look from his peer said otherwise. “What? I said it! That's what you wanted me to say, right?”
Scootaloo scoffed, as she stomped her way over to him. “No.”
Rumble stood dumbfounded. “But, what else could I be sorry for?”
Scootaloo grabbed his scarf and pressed his nose against hers, glaring intently into his eyes. “For calling Sweetie Belle cute.”
Rumble grew even more confused. “Why is that a bad thing?”
“Because you didn't say it to me,” She seethed.
Rumble groaned. “Does this mean I have to say I'm sorry to Applebloom too?” She continued to glare at him. “I'm sorry I didn't say you were cute...?” Rumble said uncertainly, hoping Scootaloo would let him go.
“Close, but not quite it,” She said, loosing her grip on his scarf.
Rumble growled, irritated that Scootaloo was being so difficult. “What then!? What could it be that you'd have us out in the cold!?”
“Say you're sorry for liking Sweetie Belle instead of me!” Scootaloo shouted, her voice wavering slightly.
Rumble raised an eyebrow. “I... don't though.”
Scootaloo let go of his scarf, as it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “But you said she was cute.”
“Well, she kinda forced me to say it. I didn't want to make her cry.” Rumble stated, as if it was obvious.
“Oh...” Scootaloo blushed, scratching the back of her head absently. “Well then I guess I owe you an apology too.”
Rumble had never been more befuddled in his life until that night. “What for?” He asked.
“For not doing this sooner.” Scootaloo said, before quickly planting a kiss on his cheek, and instantly darting away.
Scootaloo's cheeks heated her face from the snow, as she raced home. The goofiest grin across her face, as her worried anxiety was replaced with an excitement. Her spine shivered, as the spasm ran down her back, but not from the cold. She smiled even as her parents scolded her for being out so late.
This would be the most exciting time of the year for her.
Author's Note
Crap, looks like I've fallen behind slightly.
