The soft moonlight streamed into the room in square pillars of pale light. Tiny flecks of dust drifted through the air, forming spiraling swirls of white against the darkness. The room was peaceful. It was an unordinary room, full of the same gear that every other in the barracks had. It was simple, utilitarian, and completely sterile, save for the small dash of blue in the corner.
The wonderbolt trainees were allowed to have a small thing from home, something that reminded them of the life they had once lived. Some brought dolls, others brought images of their special somepony, and others brought nothing at all. The one that rested against the wall in this room was a small blue scooter.
The paint of wooden baseboard was chipped and cracked from its years of abuse. For nearly half a decade, it had been put through the most grueling torture imaginable. It had seen its shares of tumbles, scrapes, falls, and trials, but it was never put in the corner to decay. Instead it was picked up, repaired, and readied for the next stunt.
Failure was never an option, and that is precisely why it rested, unused, against this very wall. It represented years of determination and practise, a half decade of refusing to give into the temptation to quit. Every evening, the mare who shared the room with it, would hang those two precious dags on its handle only to place them around her neck in the morning. It was a sign of respect for her past trials that had led her to this point.
This night in particular, however, was different. Those two precious tags no longer swung from its handle. Instead, they were replaced by a simple golden insignia. Another artifact that represented the same determination of the scooter. The owner had, once again, moved on to another chapter in her life, but she was not about to forget the trials she went through to get here.
A dull shade of blue shone into the room, the heralding call of a new day. The sun always rose early over cloudsdale, but the academy rose earlier. A low dirge slowly found its way into the room, rousing the pony from her slumber. Yesterday she had donned those tags for the last time. Today she would create another object to represent her determination through the trials of her life. Today was the final day of the Academy.
Everything she had done in her life had brought her to this point. The scooter watched in silence as she robotically rolled out of bed. The flight suit hung worn and abused in the closet, but it would not see the light of day again. Instead, she reached for the pristine uniform that hung beside it. She would not take flight today. Instead she would stand among her peers who had fought as hard as she in the trials of the Academy. They had struggled their way through the rigorous training and emerged on the other side victorious. They had succeeded in their dreams.
The mare carefully slipped into the perfectly tailored suit and mechanically fastened the buttons on the sleeves. She looked into her reflection, staring with the intent resolution of a soldier at her own image. Her eyes spoke of the trials she had faced, the hardships that she had endured, and of the determination that was ever present in her heart.
Her mind flashed to her friends, the trio they had formed to search for themselves together. They had found their talents as marks on their flanks long ago, but she had climbed higher. She dared to do the impossible, and that made it plausible. The plausibility gave her hope. And that hope gave her the drive to make the impossible a reality.
The mare faced the door, precisely turning the rest of her body out of habit. It was time for her dreams to come true, for her life to take yet another turn toward in a direction she could never have imagined. Her confidence was present, just like it had been through the most difficult of times.
As she reached the door, she paused, her attention drawn to that small blue scooter that stood against the wall. She thought, for a brief moment, of the day she had received her scooter. It had given her wings when her own were not strong enough. It had given her hope when she had none. It had given her a chance when nothing else cared of the small orphan who rode into the city so long ago.
Her hoof automatically reached out for the dog tags she had worn daily for months. But when it only struck air, she remembered what lay on the handle of the scooter. It was the day she would give up that past life for a new one, just like she had when she entered the Academy. She gently grabbed the pin from the scooter and fastened it to her uniform. Even in the dim light of the early morning, it glowed with the same intensity as her confidence. The dog tags were gone, but what they had represented were still ingrained in her heart.
She placed her hoof on the door and pushed it open. The light of the hallway streamed into the room, bathing her in the yellow glow of the light. It felt empowering, as though the light itself was giving her a promise of a new life. She took in a deep breath and stepped into the promise of a new day. Everything was about to change, and yet she would remain as confident, steadfast, and strong as ever. It was her calling, her purpose, and the world was only beckoning her to accept it.
She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Had she taken time to look back she would have seen the golden plaque that had been nailed to its surface. On it were two words, the two words that she had waited to see all of her life. The words that marked the end to her old struggles and the beginning of higher mountains to climb. On that golden plaque, two words rose from its surface, “Captain Scootaloo”
