In Equestria, it wasn’t a rare thing to be able to watch the residents of whatever town in which you lived arrange the clouds in their own patterns in the sky. Each pony working for the weather team took pride in not only providing consistent and reliable weather patterns for the citizens, but also in their presentation of the weather. Each pegasus had their own unique style and form in which they completed their task. One particular cloud artist in Ponyville had earned the title of ‘employee of the month’ for fifteen consecutive months, and had subtly taken pride in her work as a weather pony. She hadn’t earned the title from hard work, so much as productivity and creativity. Everypony seemed to know that Rainbow Dash had slept on the job more than she had actually worked. Her speed gave her the advantage of nearly unlimited free time on the job as she could quite literally clear the sky in ‘ten seconds flat’. She had also been able to construct a beautifully ornate home for herself made out of clouds that she molded herself. Since most of her friends were ground-bound including her oldest pegasus friend, she didn’t spend much time in the sky, unless she was taking a nap.
Rainbow Dash maintained a fairly consistent schedule, factoring in time for work, meals, naps, social time, and even disaster when it chose to strike. She woke up to get ready for work at sunrise, showing up to the local weather office just barely on time with mere seconds to spare, read the schedule and assignments, and completed each task in record time. She kept a silent tally of how many speed records she could manage to break each day, though there was no accurate way of scoring them due to the abstract nature of her job. After finishing her work, she had the rest of the day to laze around, socialize, and most importantly, keep an eye on rogue cloud movement and weather patterns.
She had a few fans among the residents of Ponyville who watched her work diligently for a few minutes, and then carry on about their normal business. One fan of hers seemed to make more time in their somewhat busy schedule to admire Rainbow Dash practicing her aerial stunts. The orange pegasus filly aspired to be just like Rainbow Dash, both awestruck and jealous of every trick Rainbow could perform. She couldn’t fly yet, and she was almost sure she never would. Such thoughts were only the fears of Scootaloo, and she knew they probably weren’t true, but she was teased in school so much for every one of her shortcomings. She worked as diligently as she could every day only to achieve a few centimeters of lift before losing balance and ungracefully falling the short distance back to the ground. Some days she would just sit alone on her practice hill staring at Rainbow Dash’s mansion, full of envy and yearning to one day be able to visit. Other pegasus fillies and colts would use the hill to practice gliding from time to time, and when they showed up, Scootaloo would simply put her mask back on to try along with them.
She would even coach younger foals from time to time, and with her help most of them could achieve flight after just a few minutes. While she couldn’t fly herself, she still knew all of the basics and even some intermediate techniques. She tried not to let herself grow bitter, and for the most part succeeded. she never let her jealousy show, and was quite patient with the prying questions of her peers and students. She often had to defend her knowledge of flight, not being able to demonstrate herself. She knew everything because she had tried everything, and it was just that simple.
One day, Scootaloo sat alone on her hill, which was overlooked by Rainbow’s cloud mansion, giving her the perfect viewing angle to ogle at one of the many objects of her desire. She heaved a sigh in defeat. “Maybe tomorrow,” she reassured herself, as she had done countless times before. She dreamed of flying alongside her hero so many nights, and during the day it was all she could think about. She fantasized meeting her unofficially adopted big sister on a cloud, waking her from a nap and standing tall and broad as her mentor complimented the monumental achievement.
“Nice job Squirt, but if you want to hang with the coolest mare in town, you’ll have to do more than just flutter by. Try to keep up!” She would call as she raced away, leaving behind vapors and a determined filly. Scootaloo would race off after her and keep up effortlessly, living her dream, but only for a fleeting moment as her dream bubble was popped by an approaching dragon.
“Oh hey, Scootaloo, I didn’t think you would be here. What’s up? Where’s Applebloom and Sweetie Belle?”
“Sweetie’s with her parents and Applebloom’s doing chores. I was just practicing again,” she said, not bothering to put up a positive facade. She lowered her head as she said the words, sitting up to meet Spike’s eyes.
“No progress yet?” Spike tried encouraging her or at least coaxing out some positive energy. He could sense the disappointment apparent in her voice and body language.
“Not one bit. I’ve tried everything and I still can’t even get off of the ground. How am I supposed to hang out with Rainbow Dash if I can’t even go anywhere with her?”
“Well she’s not always in the sky, you know. I see her around Sweet Apple Acres all the time. Where is she now?” Scootaloo gestured to a small cloud drifting above them. A multicolored tail hung from the edge and faint snoring could be heard. “Oh.”
Scootaloo barely kept eye contact with Spike as her mane fell in front of her face. It wasn’t long enough to cover anything, but its usual volume was lost. Both she and Rainbow Dash’s love of speed had earned them a wind-blown style to their manes. Scootaloo loved the look of her mane, and so she never kept it brushed. Rainbow Dash simply didn’t care. For a moment, she reflected on how she had earned the style she shared with her idol. She rode a scooter most places, and all of her own aerial acrobatics had been achieved using that vehicle. Her mood lightened as she remembered the compliment Rainbow had given her during one of her more impressive stunts.
“Hey Spike, have you ever been crusading with us?”
“Not that I recall, but I feel like that should be something you would remember. Isn’t getting your cutie mark important enough for you to remember your attempts?”
“We’ve tried so many times I lost track. I don’t even remember half of the things we’ve tried,” she trailed off. Most fillies and colts got their cutie marks without even trying. Most of the time they didn’t even notice, or think to look until somepony pointed it out to them. It hurt to think that trying all they had still didn’t yield any results. The dejected filly let out another sigh, “I just wish somepony could tell us what we’re good at.”
Spike became pensive. He really did care about his friend’s feelings, and he didn’t want to let her down if his suspicions were wrong. Spike knew as well as anyone else what the crusaders were good at. Most ponies didn’t give him enough credit for how wise he had been despite his years. He also knew that it was up to the pony to figure out what their special talent was on their own. If someone were to tell them, the magic of the pony discovering their talent would be meaningless. What Spike didn’t know was whether or not that was just old mare babble. A lot of things Twilight said seemed to be just superstition, but he was, after all, the first to question her theory about Nightmare Moon. He didn’t like testing fate.
“You really should figure it out for yourself, Scoots.”
Scootaloo’s muzzle scrunched, “What?”
“Well look around. Have you ever met ano-” he was cut off by a hoof to the mouth.
“No, I mean what did you just call me?”
Spike hoped he had pushed her in the right direction, but he was taken aback by her response. “Scoots?”
“Yeah, that. Why did you call me that?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t that what the crusaders call you?”
“Yeah, but you haven’t called me that before. It sounds weird coming from you.”
“Does it? I didn’t even notice.”
“Forget it,” Scootaloo dismissed, breaking Spike’s gaze and turning her face away, blushing.
“Sorry,” Spike paused, “So what were you going to say about crusading?”
“What about crusading?”
“You asked me if I had ever been crusading with you. Weren’t you going to say something else about that?”
“Was I? Sorry, I don’t remember.” She still avoided eye contact with the dragon.
“Whatever,” Spike said, sitting down next to the filly. Her flinching away didn’t go unnoticed, and he suddenly felt his own embarrassment show. Luckily, scales were better at hiding blush than fur.
“Oh yeah! I just remembered,” chirped the now enthused filly, “I was asking if you saw enough of our crusading to tell us what we should do next. Applebloom thinks we should revisit a few of our slightly less failed attempts in case we have something promising there. Sweetie Belle thinks she can sing. Fat chance at that, right?”
Spike’s mood showed no signs of improving from her feigned attempt at humor. “Actually, I don’t think that’s a bad idea. You three may find out you’re better at some things than you once thought. Who knows? Maybe Sweetie Belle can really bring down the house.”
“What makes you say that?”
Spike was beginning to throw caution to the wind. He hated seeing ponies upset, and in his line of work it seemed like all he was destined to do. “It’s nothing big, it’s just that it would be kind of fitting for her name if she could perform music. I could be wrong about the singing, but maybe she could be a percussionist. Anything is possible for you three, really.”
Scootaloo tilted her head, “I still don’t get it. What about her name fits music?”
“Come on, Scootaloo. Don’t play dumb with me,” Spike pleaded, “Applejack’s special talent involves apples, Rainbow Dash’s talent involves something with rainbows or dashing, and Rarity’s talent is making her designs stand out above the rest. Each one of her works is a stunning rarity. Do you get it yet?”
“No way, that has to be a coincidence. I don’t even see how Rarity’s talent can be drawn to her name. Your analogy sucks. And not only that, but that still doesn’t explain about Sweetie Belle!” The filly’s temper was rising. “I can understand if Applebloom’s talent has something to do with apples, but come on. You’re grasping at hairs here.”
“No I’m not. Think about it this way: Bells make sounds, and each one is tuned to a specific note. They’re often made for making music, and even the school bell chimes its own tune, even though it’s only one note. And you’re not being specific enough with Applebloom’s name. It has ‘bloom’ in it. I’ve even heard her called ‘Bloom’ before. She could be a botanist for all we know.”
“Where are you getting all of this stuff from? You’re starting to sound like Twilight.”
The dragon sighed, “You learn a lot from a mare you spend most of your time with.”
Scootaloo could see Spike’s mood shift, and not wanting to let the argument devolve into something they would regret later, she conceded. “I can see what you mean,” She started, “So does that mean you think I might find my special talent with my scooter?”
Spike just shot her a sarcastic glare and turned his gaze downward. They both sat there for a moment, not wanting to move. Spike lacked the energy to stand back up and Scootaloo didn’t want to be alone. She just sat there watching him, processing everything he said. He seemed to have a point. Since she began pondering the names, she thought about how everypony seemed destined to their role from birth. She then became aware of the dragon’s particular situation.
“Spike.”
“...”
“You don’t have a cutie mark, Spike.”
“You noticed that, did you?”
“All this time, I’ve never even noticed. I mean I always knew that only ponies could get cutie marks, and zebras too, I guess, but I never once thought about you being a dragon.”
“Yeah.”
“Spike, do you want a cutie mark too?”
It was something Spike thought of for a long time. He grew up with Twilight, who had had her cutie mark his whole life. One of the first things she had told him when he was old enough to understand was the story of how she got it. He asked her if he could have one too, to which she dismissed, giggling, “No, silly. Dragons can’t get cutie marks.” The truth was that he knew how the crusaders felt most of the time. They just didn’t seem to notice, and they never really thought to invite him into their club. They hung out together often, except when he was working and they were just over to see Twilight. He could hardly call cleaning up their messes ‘hanging out’.
“Sorta,” came Spike’s reply. “I try not to think about it much, but I’m kind of jealous. You ponies get to know exactly what it is you’re good at, and what will make you happy in your life. I can’t help but feel like I’ll never have a purpose.”
Scootaloo was taken back by his response. She neglected the drake’s feelings so often, as most of the older ponies did, that she didn’t see how he must have felt. She gave him a comforting nuzzle before laying her head in his lap. “I know exactly how you feel, even though someday I’ll have my cutie mark. Sometimes I think that the mark will change my whole life. I know you don’t think I know how you must feel, but trust me. Just hear me out.” Spike remained silent. “When I get my cutie mark, what if it’s something I don’t want? I think about that all the time and it keeps me awake sometimes. Everypony loves what they do, but what if somepony didn’t? We’re taught all our lives that our cutie marks decide for us, but what if we don’t want them to? We never get a choice, and when the choice is made for us, we’re stuck. We could become disconnected from our magic, and even lose it altogether if we can’t fulfill our destiny.”
Spikes mood was picking up a little.
“You don’t know what you have. You could do anything you wanted and not worry about your magic going away. You can be who you want to be whenever you want to be! You have it all, Spike.” She finished her thought looking up to his face. He looked down at her with the beginnings of tears filling his eyes.
“Thanks, Scoot. I never thought of it that way before,” he sniffed, clearing his throat and grinning to add, “You’re right! I really can do anything! But that’s not all, so can you.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah! You and the crusaders. You can all do whatever you want because your cutie marks haven’t appeared yet! You can’t let some mark dictate your life, and you don’t have to.”
Both parties were beginning to see the perks of being in their respective situation. They perked up drastically after their exchanged speeches with Spike punctuating his with a hug. Scootaloo and Spike found themselves standing on top of the hill, sharing the embrace and ready to adventure; this time together, when a thought crossed the pegasus’ mind. She felt Spike’s talons in her mane, and keen to the feeling, she didn’t want it to end. She wasn’t sure what drove her to ask, but sure enough when Spike let go and began to turn, it came.
“Wait.”
“What’s up? I thought that pep talk worked, don’t you want to get the girls?”
Scootaloo blushed momentarily, “Actually, not just yet.”
“What is it?” He asked, returning to her side.
“I just wanted to.... Just come closer, okay?”
Spike obeyed, feeling his cheeks burn with anticipation.
Scootaloo leaned closer as well, coming almost muzzle-to-muzzle with the clueless drake. Quicker than the dragon could register, the filly closed the distance between the two, pecking him on the cheek as thanks.
“Don’t ever tell anypony about that,” Scootaloo ordered, “especially Rainbow Dash. It could kill my reputation.”
The dragon stood speechless.
“Good,” she barked, trotting past him, “Now let’s go."
