The View from Above

The sun peeked shyly over the grassy hills, the air still chilly from the cold night. The early morning sky still held stubbornly gleaming stars that shone through the silvery veils of mist draped across the sky. Scootaloo gazed up at the sky, enjoying the tranquil sunrise and listening to the wind as it whistled through the long grass. She stood, spreading her wings and stretching away the stiffness from remaining in a sitting position for so long. She glanced briefly back at her flank, where her cutie mark was emblazoned in bright, shimmering colors, depicting a wing on a purple, red and pale pink background. Scootaloo felt the pull, stronger than ever, to flap her wings and take off into the morning sky, to soar like she'd seen pegasus ponies do so often. She knew her wings had grown a bit, she knew she could do it if she tried hard enough. Still, a trickle of doubt crept into her heart as she remembered trying so hard, day after day, without success, flapping her stubby wings in a desperate attempt to reach the sky that called to her daily.

She remembered falling to the ground in exhaustion, hot tears falling from her violet eyes as she dragged herself to her weary hooves and trotted slowly back home. Her mother, Dusk Glow, would open her wings and envelope Scootaloo in a bear hug, wiping away her tears while scolding her fiercely, while her father, Starlit, would carry her up the stairs to her room, tuck her in and kiss her forehead gently before trotting downstairs. She would fall asleep and dream of flying, before waking up to her cruel reality of flightlessness. Scootaloo knew that nopony understood her need, her wanting to fly, Nopony had ever felt the attraction to the sky, to the wind like she did.

Scootaloo shook herself vigorously, ridding her mind of the memories. She focused intently on her goal, the same goal that she had desperately tried to reach her whole life. She closed her eyes and flapped her orange wings, once, twice, slowly, like she had practiced, instead of the hummingbird-like flapping she usually did. She felt her hooves leave the soft grass and her heart began beating faster as her wings stroked through the air, gaining altitude bit by bit. Finally, she dared to open her eyes, and nearly fell from the sky as she realized that she had managed to rise to level of a low-hanging cloud. Grinning joyfully, Scootaloo stretched out a hoof and slashed it through the soft cloud. It dissipated, and she shouted in delight. Suddenly, the realization that she was finally FLYING flashed through her faster than a lightning bolt.  Scootaloo whooped so loudly her throat ached, and flapped her wings harder, gliding forward quickly, the rush of flight swept over her and she knew that this was so much better than she had ever imagined. Scootaloo soared through the air, finally understanding the call of the sky, of the wind, she was free in her new haven. Scootaloo flew through the air, swift as an arrow, loving the feeling of wind playing with her mane and running through her feathers.

After flying around for a while as the sun began to rise above the hills, Scootaloo felt weariness drag at her wings and glided over to a nearby cloud. She landed clumsily on the fluffy surface and settled down, folding her wings against her sides as she gazed down at the town beneath her.  Ponyville was so beautiful in the morning light, shining with the rays of the sun and starting to come alive slowly. In a few homes, lights flicked on, visible through the windows, as ponies began their days. Scootaloo sighed happily as the town below her woke with the sun, and for a long while, she admired Ponyville from her bird's eye view. As the first ponies stepped from their houses into the quiet streets, Scootaloo stood, stretched, and leaped from the cloud. She snapped her wings out rapidly and circled high in the sky before swooping low towards her home.