A Life of Cruel Lessons, Great Challanges, and Magnificent Rewards.
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The Strength of Broken Wings

A Life of Cruel Lessons, Great Challanges, and Magnificent Rewards.

My name is Scootaloo, and I was born in the spring. I don't know which day nor which month. They could never tell me when I was in the orphanage, they had no idea themselves. I was just some no name pegasus left on their steps like so many others. I'm not even sure if I had my name before or after my first days with them.

I remember the orphanage as clear as day, the way the caretakers would pass us by like we weren't even there. The way they would leave us to fend for ourselves until it was time to eat was horrid, but I hold no resentment for them. They raised me, if not for them I wouldn't have made it past foalhood. They were cold and distant, but they cared. I can't imagine they would have put up with us anyways.

There was one mare, that for the longest time I thought was my mother, that would always read to me on the weekends. I can't remember her name, but her voice was as sweet as sugared cream, her mannerisms were meek and kindly, she was wonderful. It was because of her that I put up with the flippant attention from the caretakers and our lacking housing. It was because of her that I held on when things seemed bleakest.

As I grew up and my body developed, one thing remained weak and useless. My wings refused to flap properly. I could put as much effort into my movements as I wanted, but no single flap could get me off the ground. My wings had the power, but they refused to lift me off the ground, acting like a fan with holes in it. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I cried, no matter how much I begged my caretakers, my friends, the sweet mare, no matter what I did my wings refused to work.

And so I lost them all. My friends alienated me, the caretakers learned to ignore my pleads, and even the sweet mare eventually stopped coming. The foals at the orphange would make fun of me for everything. For being orange, for having broken wings, for being named Scootaloo. Scootaloo wasn't a name for ponies with parents, it was a name for ponies that get a name from a book, from a ledger, like a number. The caretakers never cared enough to stop them, and the only mare that would was gone. I was alone again, left a young filly alone with nothing to fall back on. It wasn't until I turned eight that I found out why.

The sweet mare hadn't left me, she had left the orphanage, she had left Ponyville. She was in Canterlot, getting treatment for something she had been suppressing for years. But I was young, I got mad. She had abandoned me just like everypony else, what did it matter if she was sick!? How could she, why would she, did I deserve it? All those questions continued to race through my mind for nearly a year.

On my ninth winter she returned to the orphanage. She was sickly, pale, and rail thin. I remember the first and last thing I said to her. "I hate you." I said it over and over again. In my mind, she knew exactly what I meant, but I could see each time I said it, each shout and yell dig into her. She took them as any other would take a physical blow. I was slapped by a caretaker as the sweet mare started crying. Her entire form was pale and gray, right down to the apple slices on her flank.

I found out a week later that she passed away. I turned ten the next day, and with that day came a horrid realization. My last words to the one mare that cared about me, the one pony in the world I knew loved me for me, had been I hate you. The day after I realized what I had done, I trotted calmly into the kitchen of the orphanage, and ruthlessly slashed my left foreleg with a paring knife. I was put on a suicide watch as the caretakers tried to figure out what to do with me.

I remember weeks later. They brought me in to a small office, planting me in a chair opposite a boney red stallion with a head of bright gold hair. He sat me down and told me the two words that would shatter my soul, "Get out."

He was deathly serious as he slipped a form over to me. He told me the sweet mare had been his wife, and that she had been planing on adopting me for years. He said she wanted to wait, that she knew she wouldn't be around for much longer. She wanted to make sure her final acts to me were kind, and her final acts for her foals was to leave them with a new family member when she was gone.

He said he would never forget what his wife said to him as she drifted away. "She asked what she did wrong. She asked why you hated her." His words cut deep, sending an oppressive weight straight to my core. I wanted to die in that chair as the red stallion tossed his mane back, clumps of blonde hair coming off in tufts as he did.

He told me he hated me. If I could have brought myself to speak, I would have done nothing but apologize, but in my state all I could do was stare at my hooves and lament my actions. "There's a house in town that she used to own. She would want you to be safe, even if you don't deserve it." the stallion slid me a key. "Now get out, and learn to take care of yourself." the stallion stood up, a large strand of blonde hair falling to the desk. "Because you're not welcome back."

The red stallion walked me out of the orphanage and gave me a slip of paper. "There is some bits my wife was saving waiting for you there. Now go, go and never come back. Never let me see your face you vile little shit, run!" he screamed. "Run!" he bolted after me, only managing a few yards before collapsing into a coughing fit. I didn't bother looking back. I'm not sure if it was out of fear or if I wanted to pretend he was dead, but I never looked back.

I found my new home, a simple two room hut. I had no things, only myself, to fill the space. And so I found the bits they had left me, thousands of bits saved up and all for me. But I wasn't stupid, a life of being constantly beaten down for having childish thoughts had stripped a large chunk of the joy out of my life. I knew what the money was for. And so it sat, hanging lazily in a purgatory while I waited in the dark house for days.

Eventually the major's aid came to check on me, telling me I had to go to school. I complained and made excuses for nearly an hour before accepting my fate. The mayor's aid made it clear, go to school, or go back to a different orphanage in an entirely new city. Apparently the owners of Ponyville's had passed away recently.

I had a horribly pang of joy that I quickly reprimanded myself for. I hated that stallion. He was the bad one, he kicked me out of my old life, thrust this responsibility upon me, upon a filly! I resented him, but deep inside I knew everything I felt for him was baseless and immature. More than my ire, he deserved my pity. But I was young, angry, hurt, I didn't, I couldn't know any better.

I remember to my first day of school. They had taught us back in the orphanage, but it was always a few at a time, never this volume of children all at once. I felt overwhelmed, like I was drowning. The teacher was a cheery plum mare with an equally cheery mane. She called me up on the first day, parading me around the front of the class and telling me to introduce myself.

"I'm Scootaloo." I said. "I...." My mind blanked as I stood infront of the rather large class. I was Scootaloo, that was it. I had no family, no adventures, I was Scootaloo the flightless pegasus, and that was it. And so I stayed frozen in front of the crowd for what felt like hours. The teacher eventually sat me back down.

"Scootaloo, stay after class alright." she said, losing the cheer to her voice. I felt low as the class stared at me. They only turned away when a loud crack sounded from outside. Everypony, myself included, rushed to a window. That's when I saw her, the famous rainbow mare of Ponyville.

"It's Rainbow Dash!" a colt shouted. The entire class was in awe as she zipped around the sky, moving clouds and preparing for the Running of the Leaves.

Eventually we all went back to our seats. My first day went by quietly until the end. When I went to meet the teacher I found another filly standing at her desk. A bright white filly with a swirly mane. "Oh Scootaloo, this is Sweetie Belle."

"Hi!" the filly chirped.

"I thought since you're new, you could use somepony to show you around." the cheery mare looked to Sweetie Belle.

Sweetie grinned wide at me. "Sure! Come on, we can go- do something...fun!" Sweetie seemed to have confused herself. She ran off out the back door and into a small lot that formed a yard.

The Cheerilee introduced herself, informed me of her knowledge about my situation and told me she wouldn't tell anypony. I thanked her and hurried off after the bubbly white filly that was prancing around the yard. I charged out after her and found her bounding around the grass as ponies filtered out towards their homes.

Sweetie and I spend a few hours getting to know each other. Eventually bringing up the prospect of my wings. I grew nervous as she pranced around me and poked at my wings.

I grew defensive, telling her to stop asking. She seemed hurt and settled down. "Well...I can't use magic, if that makes you feel better."

I grew a bit ashamed. I had assumed she would simply make fun of me. The whole time I had lived in the orphanage all the foals did was mock me, even while their flaws sat glaringly in front of them. But I had found somepony who hadn't mocked me. Somepony who had sympathized with me, who didn't want to make fun of me.

Sweetie and I grew to be fast friends. We hung out after school, chatted at the break, we were inseparable. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned to months, and soon the months turned to years. All made easy by my best friend, the second mare in the world I could trust, the mare I cared for. I learned to love her, to idolize the greatest flyer in Ponyville, I wanted to be like her, I wanted to get to know her, I wanted to be her friend.

My thirteenth spring I lost my virginity. Sweetie had come over to check on me after I failed to show up for a week. I was running a terrible fever and had been stuck in bed the entire time. Sweetie stayed with me for the rest of the night, and starting off with innocent questions, we slowly devolved into a risque chat about colts, and finally to the act. We spent a night together, exploring each other and eventually swearing to tell nopony about what we had done. I had learned an excellent lesson from that unique experience and swore to never think about a mare that way again.

The fillies and colts had learned to leave me be, save for two bully that incessantly pestered the entire class. The teasing only grew worse as they got their cutie marks and we didn't. But I had to relish in the fact that I was no longer Scootaloo flightless pegasus, now only Scootaloo the blank flank. The hazing wasn't terrible, it was always a few less than bright colts and the two snobbish brats that had barely got their marks themselves, everpony else was usually respectful, only occasionally laughing at their teasing.

Then I met Apple Bloom. She was like us, Sweetie and I, a blank flank. We met during a party for the very filly that had bullied us. We came to her aid and became fast friends. We founded the Cutie Mark Crusaders, a trio dedicated to finding our skills, our marks.

We spent days together, doing everything from zip lining to cooking to singing. We looked to our friends, to our families, even I learned to be loved by my idol. I tried so hard to make her care about me, and in the end she loved me regardless of my wings, regardless of my blank flank. She took me under her wing, trying everything she could to teach me to fly.

But it wasn't meant to be. No matter how much I wanted it, no matter how much we tried, it never happened. I was doomed to the ground.

Things slowly grew hopeless, even while my true calling was staring me in the face. I was so focused on what I couldn't do, that I couldn't see what I was meant to do, despite doing it daily. My depression only grew worse as I spent less time with Rainbow Dash, and Sweetie, my oldest friend, got her cutie mark. A beautiful treble cleft sat proud and happy on her flank.

Next came Apple Bloom. She was meant to be a true blooded Apple, and she bore a apple with a gear on her flank.

I fell into despair as I tried to understand what I did wrong. I was still blank, I was doing something wrong, it had to be me, everpony else had theirs, it had to be me.

It wasn't until my sixteenth summer that I learned the meaning of my life. My scooter had always helped me forget my grounded status, but it had never seemed to be something that would earn my mark. I learned otherwise. I was being pestered by an older colt, and eventually I reached my limit. I was gonna kill him, he could see how badly I planned to hurt him and ran. I chased after him, but he was fast where I was slow, if not for my scooter. I raced through the streets away from the school, darting around and tackling him when I grew close.

I hoovered my hoof over him, threatening to turn him to pulp under my tread. "Scootaloo!" He leaned his head to my side. "Look!"

I peered back to my flank. It had happened, I was whole. A cherry red scooter, the likes of which were only available to Canterlot royalty, sat on my side. I was ecstatic, I kissed the colt and ran off. No longer was my life meaningless, I had found my reason in life, even if I did tend to lose it every so often.

From that day on I slowly developed my racing ability. I organized Ponyville's first scooter race, and soon after I gained the title of Ponyville's fasted racer. From there I moved on to organizing and competing all over Equestria, and soon enough I was known as the fasted pony on the ground.

I was famous, I had gone from some no name flightless filly to being the fastest pony on the ground, maybe one of the fastest in Equestria. I was happy, I started dating, started living.

Soon enough I found myself with a wonderful stallion, years later we were married. Not long after our joining I had my first foal.

I remembered when they told me, my foal might be flightless like me. It didn't stop me. I carried through and raised a wonderful colt, his wings unable to carry him. But I was there for him, spurring him on, reassuring him, teaching him how to race. He turned out to be even faster than me.

Soon after my first, I raised a filly, her wings strong, flight worthy. Between the two I found an amazing amount of pride. I had raised two wonderful foals, and no matter what they did I would love them as long as they stayed with me. And as my body aged, my foals grew stronger.

One took my legacy, carrying it strongly into the future. The other found her own path, surveying the land across the ocean and discovering an all new land. She found her death on that journey, but her actions inspired so many others to head across the ocean, into a land of new opportunities and adventure.

As she was lowered into the ground, my family sat broke, but not alone. Ponies from throughout Equestria, throughout the world, came to pay their respects.

On my fiftieth winter I was greeted by my grandcolt. My family had grown large through my son, through his conquests and notoriety he had garnered a large following, eventually producing strong foals.

I felt happy as they grew in size and number. Soon my home was full of fillies and colts, filers and not.

I watched as they idolized hero's of their own. And even as my old idol, my spiritual sister, passed away, she was never alone. My entire family attended the ceremony. Rainbow Dash had never had foals of her own, but that just meant there was more room for us. My family had grown up hearing stories about the greatest fliers, the greatest racers, and about how they were close friends.

But as time went on, my wings lost their peculiar strength. I found myself waning faster and faster as the years caught up with me. My foals and their foals never left my side.

Upon the date of my death I was surrounded by family, sucess, and love. I was leaving the world with everything I was missing upon my entrance.

I had reflected on my suffering, on my failures, on my disability. Without it I would never have tried harder than everypony else, without my broken wings I would have never met my husband, I would never have created the racing league. As horrid as it might seem, my disability was my greatest inspiration. Without that point to overcome I wouldn't have had the impact my life did.

I lived a better life than I could have ever imagined.

Are you happy with what you have done? The choices you've made?

I thought hard, and I would never change a thing.

Then I believe it's time for you to pay it back.

My bodiless vision went white. I drifted off into the unknown, ready to rest.

~*~*~

"Rainbow Dash!" Scootaloo ran over to me. "Rainbow Dash hey...I uh...was wondering if you'd come with me- I don't mean just me, I mean me and the other crusaders...and their sisters. So I guess I'm asking if--"

I laughed heartily. "Sure! I'll talk with Applejack and figure something out." I flew off, enjoying the feeling of the wind rushing past my wings. I settled down on my porch and overlooked the falls. Bleary memories of a far off place flashed in my mind. "I'd never leave you...not now, not then, not ever."

I walked slowly inside, trying to clear the strange sense of deja vu.

Author's Note

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