Mint Copy sat at his desk, a nice cup of tea beside him, and his typewriter clacking away a mile a minute as his wingtips danced across the keys. His hooves rubbed his chin thoughtfully as the appendages put his thoughts to paper. Typically, a typewriter with a QWERTY keyboard would be reserved for unicorns, while the non-magical races used a rotary system, but Mint preferred it this way. It allowed him to type faster, and keep his hooves free. Unfortunately, the former wasn’t providing any help today. He’d been stuck on this chapter of his novel for months, and while he didn’t have his publisher breathing down his neck, his own personal deadlines were eating him up. With an exasperated sigh, he transferred the cup to a wing, putting his ‘index feather’ through the loop, and stood up from the desk. Nothing good ever came from slamming your head against something. he thought. Give it time, and the ideas will come to you. He looked up at the clock on the wall, and a smile crossed his snout.
“Three… Two… One…”
“CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS DELIVERYMARES, YAY!” Came the voices from outside his door.
As if on cue. Mint mused as he headed towards the door. Strange, it was almost as if they were quieter today. Wonder if the neighbours complained. He joked to himself. He had no neighbours, he lived on the very edge of town, near the Everfree Forest. His closest neighbour was probably Fluttershy of all ponies. Mint opened the door, and sure enough there were Cutie Mark Crusaders waiting on his doorstep, several large shopping bags on the floor beside them. There was just one thing missing, or rather, one pony. “Say, where’s Scoots?” the writer asked as he scooped up the bags with a free hoof and the two fillies followed him inside and into the kitchen.
Mint had put down the bags started counting out the bits he’d have to pay the fillies for picking up his groceries, so he didn’t notice their smiles falter as they took their seats at the kitchen table behind a plate full of cookies and three bottles of soda. “She… uhm… she…” Apple Bloom tried to start, but lying was not her strong suit, a trait she’d picked up from her older sister.
“She had to go visit her parents!” Sweetie Belle blurted out, coming to Apple Bloom’s rescue.
“Visit her parents?” Mint asked, placing two small bags of bits in front of the two fillies, the cost of the groceries with some extra for themselves. “Does she live with a relative or something?”
“Oh, y-yeah! She lives with an... aunt, I think.” Apple Bloom said, before stuffing her face with a chocolate-chip cookie.
Mint raised an eyebrow. At the mention of Scootaloo, all of their usually boundless energy had left them, and they were being uncharacteristically evasive. “Girls. Just tell me where she is. If she’s in trouble, you can tell me. I’m your friend, remember?”
Apple Bloom sighed in defeat. “Ah hate lyin’ mister Mint, but… Scootaloo asked us not to tell anyone where she was. Sweetie Belle wasn’t entirely lyin’ either.”
“She was just so sad…” Sweetie Belle added. “We didn’t know what to do. Last we saw her, she was crying.”
Mint was surprised. The girls were usually hyper to the point of giving Pinkie Pie a run for her money, especially Scootaloo. He had a hard time imagining the little Pegasus as sad as her friends were making out. “Can you take me to her?” He asked. “In times like these, Ponies need their friends.”
Mint was surprised again when the duo led him to Ponyville Cemetery. He’d been by here probably once, yet he’d never actually gone in. He pushed open the wrought iron gate, and about five steps in he noticed that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had stopped at the entrance, looks of fear on their faces. It was to be expected of course, most children tended to shy away from Cemeteries. Even he had to admit that despite not remembering anything beyond a few years ago, he felt a chill down his spine, almost as if he were being watched as he scanned for Scootaloo. Luckily, the bright orange Pegasus wasn’t difficult to find amongst the dull gray of the headstones. She sat before a pair of headstones, flowers lying on the ground in front of her. Mint could hear her crying as he approached from behind. As he got closer, he noticed that the two stones were actually conjoined and read: Here lies Thunder Blitz and Hot Wheels, loving parents taken too soon.
Ah… Mint thought, That’s what Sweetie meant when she said she was ‘Visiting her parents’... Poor kid.
“Hey Scoots, you feeling alright?” Mint asked, causing the filly to jump.
“Oh, hi Mister M.” She said, recovering quickly and trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I’m fine, just hanging out at the boneyard… you know? What’re you doing here?”
“Scoots, I’m here because your friends are worried about you, and I am too.” Mint sat down beside her. “You’re out here alone, crying at the grave of two ponies labelled as ‘Loving Parents.’” He sighed. “Scootaloo, my special talent might be writing, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put two and two together. I’ve met Rarity, Applejack, Big Mac, and Celestia knows how many other members of the Apple Family, yet I’ve never even seen your parents. Ponyville isn’t that big of a town.”
Her ruse uncovered, Scootaloo started crying again, only for a big red wing to pull her in close. “Shhh… It’s fine Scoots. You miss them, I know. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. But you didn’t have to come out here alone. You’ve got your fellow Crusaders, Twilight and her friends, even me.”
“I… I just feel so alone sometimes…” She murmured, her tears making his feathers appear darker red. “I was just a kid, but I remember everything… The storm, the sky-chariot, everything. Just not their faces… Why can’t I remember their faces?!”
“You’re not alone Scootaloo.” Mint said, pulling her in closer. “Not remembering is a bit of a specialty of mine.”
“B- but you always say that you don’t care that you can’t remember your old life, that it’s only your new one that matters. I wanted to be strong like that, but I can’t.”
“Scoots…” Mint said with a sigh, trying not to shed his own tears. “Remember when I first met you and your friends? I was absolutely terrified. I was a fully grown stallion that couldn’t remember a single thing about his entire life. All I knew was that I could speak bear, and my name might be Mint Copy.” He chuckled admonishingly. “I didn’t even have a name. That’s how alone I was. It was ponies like you, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Fluttershy that helped me find my place, but even now I wonder…”
“About what?”
“About what I can’t remember. What were my parents like? Did I have any siblings? Where am I even from? Questions like that keep me up at night, when they don’t haunt my dreams.” Mint shuddered at the thought.
“How’d you get through it?” She asked, her eyes now considerably dryer.
“I think to myself: ‘What would that brave little Scootaloo do?’” he replied with a smile.
“Mint?”
“Hm?”
“I don’t think I feel alone anymore.”
