Fog

by Door Belle

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Pinkie Pie, Scootaloo, Diamond Tiara, Alternate Universe
Length: 5806

A storm strikes Ponyville. Scootaloo makes it to shelter, but as days pass, it becomes clear that something terrible has happened.

A terrible storm strikes Ponyville without warning. Thanks to Pinkie Pie, Scootaloo makes it to safety in a basement shelter with a few other fillies and colts, but days pass with no word from above and food starts to run out.

Somepony has to go outside.

Born of the brainstorm that spawned Penalt's Equestria, Destroyed and Black Flash by Damaged, and set in the same world. Special thanks to solocitizen, Garnot, Penalt, Damaged, and Cross Lament for their contributions.

Published 2017-01-31 15:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-18 11:08:45 UTC

Storm

Scootaloo kissed Star Dew on the tip of his muzzle. The little bat-colt yawned in response, drawing a grin to Scootaloo’s face. Being guilt-tripped into helping take care of the adorable foal might have been the best thing to happen to her life next to forming the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but she still had other ponies to keep up with.

“I’ll be back in the morning, Squirt,” she said. Star Dew pouted.

“Aw, but I go be sleep by morning!” Despite how cute his half-broken Equestrian could be, the colt had a point. Unlike most of the foals at the Ponyville Foster House, he would be awake all evening and night.

Scootaloo smacked her forehead. “I mean I’ll be back when you’re really awake, Starry. Maybe we can play a game or two before I gotta crash, huh?”

She ruffled his mane and the ribbons tied into it, ignored his protest, and hopped on her scooter, giving it a push-start with one hind leg to get it moving. With a buzz of her wings, the orange pegasus filly accelerated the toy vehicle to Dashing Speed—a term she had invented herself—and left the Foster House and her favorite colt in the dust.

As awesome as Star Dew, Mom, Dad, Pa, and Pappy were, Scootaloo was looking forward to staying out late with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom in the clubhouse at Sweet Apple Acres. She didn’t want to stay out too late, though. That night was movie night at the Foster House, and the older fillies and colts were going to watch a horror film after the little ones were in their beds and cribs.

As she steered onto Ponyville’s main street, the fastest way to get to the other side of town and out to the clubhouse, Scootaloo’s ears perked towards a rumbling sound in the distance behind her. A thunderstorm must have been coming. Getting caught in the rain was fine, but she sped up further anyway, flipping her scooter like a skateboard to vault over an unattended market stall full of flowers.

There weren’t all that many ponies in the normally-crowded street, now that she really looked. Weird.

A prismatic streak flashed through Scootaloo’s peripheral vision, and she looked up just in time to see the oncoming rainbow shockwave that threw her against the wall of a nearby shop. She bounced off onto the grass by the street, and there was a crash as her scooter flew through an open window and broke something.

"Yeah!" the filly shouted. There was only one pony in Equestria who could pull off the sonic rainboom, the source of the power that had thrown her clean off the street. In the distance, a telltale rainbow contrail raced along a strange-looking cloud front before veering upwards. Rainbow Dash was hard at work, and Scootaloo liked to think the mare could hear her cheers.

Then there was a pink blur. Scootaloo felt her hooves leave the ground, and her whole body moved to the left so quickly it reminded her of the time Rainbow Dash had greeted her with a flying tackle.

“It’s very important that you stay inside!” a familiar voice blurted in her ear as she came to a stop.

“Pinkie Pie?” Scootaloo blinked. Wow, she might have just set a new land speed record. She was inside now, in a large room lit by row upon row of cake candles on shelves and on the flat and solid wheel of a cart in use as a table. Standing over her was Ponyville’s resident pink party pony, Pinkie Pie, and there were a few other fillies and colts lingering in various degrees of confusion nearby. Somepony was crying, and there was a banner pinned to the back wall which had the words ‘Super Special Surprise Survival Party’ written on it with brown, dark grey, purple, and red crayons.

Pinkie didn’t look herself at all. Her wide eyes and shrunk pupils combined with the wind-blown flatness of her mane to produce the picture of a pony who was all wrong.

“Stay inside,” the pink mare repeated. Then, with another blur up the room’s central ladder and a zip out the trapdoor in the ceiling, she was gone.

“Great, you’re here.” And that was Diamond Tiara, Ponyville’s resident pink party pooper. Scootaloo sighed.

“I didn’t even ask to be here!” the little pegasus said. She eyed the ladder, but… something in Pinkie’s tone had been urgent. Maybe she had better wait just long enough to understand what was going on. “What are you doing here?”

Diamond shrugged. “I have no idea. Pinkie knocked my tiara right off, too. Daddy’s going to get her into so much trouble if it gets lost.”

“Yeah, right.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Pinkie’s way more famous than your stupid ‘daddy.’ ”

The other filly had just opened her mouth to reply when the trapdoor opened and shut. The pink blur, transformed back into Pinkie Pie as she stopped, reappeared. Pinkie set the grey foal she was carrying down on a section of the table that wasn’t covered in flaming candles and kissed the tip of his muzzle.

“Now, be a good colt. Auntie Pinkie will be right back with—” Pinkie’s knees twitched, then her tail and ears. She turned back to the ladder and whimpered. “Oh no, no no no, not yet, I wasn’t—”

A cacophony of rumbling, smashing, and metallic screeching noises sounded overhead, drowning out everything. Scootaloo screamed and buried her head under her forelegs, covering her ears. The destruction above went on and on like an angry child-goddess had decided to ‘play’ with Sugarcube Corner, smashing it together with a few of the surrounding buildings. Scootaloo remained hunkered down on the floor, teeth gritted against any further uncool outbursts. It was just a really bad storm, she could do better than this!

The sound was gone as suddenly as it came, leaving the filly’s ears ringing. Other sounds made their way back into her world—colts and fillies crying, and the high wail of a foal. Pinkie’s voice, trying to shush somepony. Scootaloo found her way onto her unsteady hooves and glanced around to find the whole room in disarray. Candles had fallen everywhere. Fortunately, the floor was non-flammable hardened earth and nopony looked burned, but boxes, confetti, party hats, and noisemakers had fallen everywhere. One of the hats was on fire, but nopony else paid it any attention, so neither did Scootaloo.

Pinkie Pie stepped away from her table as the wailing finally stopped, carrying the grey foal on her back, and stacked two boxes under her half-fallen banner. After a moment’s seeming consideration, she stuck the burning party hat on top and produced a marker from her mane, drawing a smiling face on the upper box. Then she mimicked the faux face. Scootaloo was sure she’d seen more sincere and convincing smiles when Silver Spoon had been caught red-hoofed in one of her bullying “games” and given detention and strict supervision for a week.

“Welcome,” Pinkie said. There were tears along the edges of her upbeat tone; she sounded ready for a party or a funeral. A funeral party wasn’t out of the question. “Hoo boy. That is to say, Mister Boxington and I would like to welcome you to our Super Special Surprise Survival Party. Everypony gather around!”

Scootaloo didn’t like where this was going, but she followed. Pinkie was the only adult present, and she had earned more than a little trust. She was joined by the other fillies and colts.

“Wonderful!” said Pinkie. She grabbed a third box and a bag of milk that had been replaced with water off a nearby shelf. “We’re going to have so much fun! There’s food and drink and games! I have a lot of games, but the first one is special because we’ll be playing it during the others, for days and days! Is everypony ready?”

“Yes, Pinkie,” Scootaloo said, in unison with a number of the foals. What was this? Maybe some of the younger ones would be distracted, but all she wanted to do was leave. The storm had been terrible. If something had happened to Sweetie Belle or Apple Bloom or—oh no, she had to go back to the Foster House! What if Mom or Dad or Pa or Pappy was hurt? What if one of the foals at the House was hurt? What if it was Star Dew? That colt was like a little sister to her!

“Sorry. I can’t stay.” The little pegasus turned back to the ladder.

“Wait!” Pinkie screamed. Scootaloo cringed, and the pink mare trotted over, lowering her voice to indoors volume. “You can’t go out there yet. It’s not safe! I promise, when the party is over, I’ll look out there myself and see if it’s safe yet, and when it’s safe everypony can go home.” Pinkie sat back on her haunches and drew her right forehoof across her chest, held it up briefly, then covered her eye with her left forehoof. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye! Oooh, I—I don’t feel so good…”

Pinkie trotted back to the center of the ring of foals and gave her greenest and least convincing smile yet. “That brings me to our super-special game: Anti-Magic! The rules are simple: If you use any kind of magic, you lose.” Her eyes grew wide, her smile grew broad, her ears flopped just off-beat from each other, and her voice dropped down a well. “Forever.” Scootaloo shuddered as Pinkie went on. At least the mare’s voice returned to normal right away.

“Otherwise you win some free cupcakes and candies for the rest of your life! That means no casting spells, Dinky, not even levitating things! No flying, and that means you, Zippoorwhill, Featherweight, and Pound Cake!” Her voice changed as she leaned towards Mister Boxington and hid her muzzle behind one leg. “And no earth pony magic, especially not you, Pinkie Pie!” She straightened up and performed a mock-salute, returning to her normal tone. “I’ve got it, Mister Boxington! Nopony uses absolutely no earth pony magic like Pinkie Pie!”

Scootaloo snickered, despite herself. Whatever other party skills the mare possessed, Pinkie was a terrible ventriloquist. Then, she frowned.

“Wait, what about me?” she asked.

“You…” Pinkie hesitated. “Didn’t your family tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Scootaloo held her head a little higher. “I mean, uh, of course! My family tells me everything. Especially Pa and Garland, they’re the best.”

“Well! I bet you know everything you need to know already, then,” Pinkie said, her face twisted around a somewhat genuine, but smug, smile.

Darn it, Scootaloo thought, she knows I don’t know! “Of course,” she answered. A firm nod ought to make her look as certain as she sounded.

“Wha ma bwuffa?”

It was the grey foal riding on Pinkie’s back who had spoken out of turn. His barely-formed words made the mare freeze up for a moment, before she turned her head towards him. She opened her mouth, then shut it, and Scootaloo thought she saw the beginnings of tears in the older pony’s eyes.

“I-I—” Pinkie swallowed loudly.

“Wha ma bwuffa? I wan bwuffa!” The foal burst into tears, and Pinkie followed suit. Scootaloo’s blood chilled, sending shivers through her. From their similarity, the foal was probably the baby brother Rumble had been bragging about, and now she had a bad feeling. Rumble was really cute for not being one of the few colts who ever wore bows and frills...

Another wave of chills hit as her mind strayed to Star Dew. As Pinkie Pie desperately tried to lighten the mood with a round of Pin the Tail on the Pony, Scootaloo retreated to sit, wait, and collect herself at the foot of the ladder. She was a little old for such an uncool game, anyway.

Eventually, Pinkie got everypony distracted with each other and came over. “Scootaloo?” she said. “How come you’re not joining in?”

“Pinkie.” Scootaloo kept her voice down. “How bad is it? I mean, really. That wasn’t an Everfree storm. It came from the wrong direction.” As Pinkie opened her mouth, the filly continued, “Tell me the truth, or I’m going home. You can’t stop me. The other Crusaders are waiting, and Star Dew’s scared of storms.”

“O-okay, since you insist,” Pinkie said. “You have good reasons, and I can’t hold you down forever.” The mare took a deep breath. “Something terrible happened. Anypony outside is… they’re gone. If you go outside now, nopony will ever see you again, and I want to see you again because you’re my best friend’s best friend who’s not me, so please don’t go outside.”

“What.”

“You made me say it straight. You can’t leave yet—it’s too dangerous. I’m sorry.”

As Pinkie returned to the others, Scootaloo stared down at her hooves. The scale was… she simply couldn’t imagine it. Everypony outside, in Ponyville, gone? She had lived in Ponyville all her life, and the idea of missing Roseluck’s attempts to sell her flowers for Rumble, or of Sweetie Belle not being there to say some weird Prench word at least once every Cutie Mark Crusaders meeting, just would not fit. They had always been there. They would always be there. Wouldn’t they?

And Star Dew… little Dew was closer to her then any of her other “siblings”, and between camaraderie and caregiving, he felt somewhere between a kid sister and a daughter. Either way, he was family, even more so than her “parents.” Not that she would admit it, because taking care of foals was not even remotely cool, but he was the best, and if anything happened to him…

“What’s the matter, crybaby?” It was Diamond Tiara again. Scootaloo hastily brushed away a few tears and glared up at her. “Are you sad because Pinkie Pie grounded you from the party?”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. Typical; the pink filly had run out of new put-down material again. “Pinkie didn’t ground me, Tiara-less. Why don’t you go back to your baby games?”

Diamond balked, glaring back for a moment, then broke into a smile. “Huh, you’re actually getting better.” She sat down next to Scootaloo, who forced herself to smile back. “So why are you really sitting alone?”

“I’m just worrying about my friends.” Mentioning Star Dew would be a mistake; Diamond Tiara wasn’t the nicest filly even when you were her friend, and the little bat was sensitive. There was so much to tease him about, and he would never be able to talk back the way Scootaloo could. “The other Crusaders, I mean. I really hope they got inside… Pinkie said it’s bad out there.”

“Trust her to know, I guess,” said Diamond, nodding. “At least the party is a distraction. You don’t have to play any of the stupid games, but let’s get back to the others, okay?”

Scootaloo sighed. The other filly was probably right. “Fine, I guess.”

The games did help a little.

Calm

Scootaloo groaned and crawled from her bed into the dim light of a few scattered candles. One of the amenities Pinkie Pie didn't have in her cellar was comfortable bedding; the old mattresses at the Foster House weren't prime comfort themselves, but sharing a large cardboard box tipped sideways was no substitute. Every one of the filly’s bones was sore.

Diamond Tiara emerged from the box behind her, yawning. "Ugh, everything hurts," she whined. "I'd better be sleeping in a real bed tonight."

"It's no worse than sleeping on the floor." Scootaloo shook herself off and shrugged. Hopefully she didn't look as bad as she felt. "You're really spoiled, you know that?"

"Why yes, I do." Diamond grinned, perking up a little as she talked. "My daddy can afford the best of everything. I've slept on beds you could only dream of, under the warmest, heaviest comforters and quilts, on the softest—"

"I get it, already." Scootaloo rolled her eyes.

"Ahem. On the softest pillows, and roused by the gentlest alarm clocks from the finest lavender-scented sheets. Really, Scootaloo, your manners need a lot of work." Walking away only did so much when there was so little space, and Diamond had no trouble keeping up with the slow pace forced on her friend by the cellar's close quarters. Even with most of the others still sleeping, there was no escaping her voice. Not without going outside.

"Whatever."

"See what I mean?" Diamond turned away with a haughty toss of her mane.

Unfortunately, everything the pink filly had bragged about was true. Scootaloo had once joined her, Sweetie Belle, and Silver Spoon for a sleepover; even the guest beds had made for the most luxurious rest of Scootaloo’s life. If only Sweetie and Silver hadn’t kept her up for an extra hour with their whispering and giggling in the other bed.

At least, Scootaloo thought, she didn't need much time to walk off her poor sleep; she had crashed on the floor before. As one of the older fillies, and with the only crib already occupied, it had been her bed that Pa assigned to Star Dew when the colt was first brought into the Foster House. He had been so young then, and slept so much, that it was impossible to take turns as they did now. Mattresses weren't cheap, so Scootaloo had slept on the floor—and complained about it—for almost two years.

It was a few minutes before Pinkie woke, and soon the pink mare was busy rousing the rest of the foals, dragging herself from one to the next as they got up to remind them against using magic. She caught and spread a few of their contagious yawns, but there was otherwise no incident before she gathered everypony and declared it time for breakfast.

"And you get one, and you get one, and you get one," Pinkie said, her fake smile and the half-hearted pep in her voice never letting up. "Now I get one. Remember, pull the tab with your teeth—no magic! Dig in!"

Scootaloo stared down at the spoon and can of beans in front of her, then glanced over at Diamond Tiara, who was sneering at her canned corn.

"Oh no," Scootaloo whispered under her breath. "Diamond, don't..."

"And what is this supposed to be, Pinkie Pie?" Everypony but Pinkie gulped in unison, but otherwise remained silent. Nopony wanted to be subjected to one of the pink filly's tirades.

"Breakfast," Pinkie said. “You don't bring perishable food like muffins and cupcakes to a survival party, now do you?"

"What's perishable?" The voice belonged to one of the foals. Zippoorwhill, Scootaloo thought.

"It means it's been cooked or baked, instead of eaten where it grows like grass," another filly said.

“I guess I’ve heard dumber things, Longsocks, but you should still be ashamed of yourself.” Diamond Tiara groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Pinkie, everypony knows you need a diet—” somepony snickered, but nopony dared mention the hypocrisy “—but I hope you don’t expect us to eat raw vegetables and peanut butter for every meal down here.”

Pinkie opened her mouth, but hesitated when a few of the colts murmured agreement. She shut her mouth and looked down at her can, then back at Diamond, and sighed. “You shouldn’t say mean things about ponies.”

Pinkie and Diamond traded stares for almost a minute before the filly sighed and looked away. “Fine, I’m sorry I was mean to you, Pinkie Pie.”

“Good. I forgive you! But I’ll un-forgive you if I hear you being mean like that to anypony else.” Pinkie put on a half-hearted Stern Mommy Stare, but even that only lasted a moment. Scootaloo hadn’t known the mare even had one. “And I’ll do what I can for food, Pinkie promise. Now eat your corn.”

Diamond Tiara huffed. “That’s not a real Pinkie promise.”

“Real Pinkie promises use magic. I don’t want to lose the game.” Pinkie winked, but without her old energy, it was just a slow, twitching half of a blink. Scootaloo’s skin crawled, and even Diamond Tiara swallowed audibly. “I mean it, though. I promise. Now, everypony, pull the tops of your cans off just like Auntie Pinkie. Teeth only, no magic!”

Once her skin was still, Scootaloo tucked into her beans like almost everypony else. She would go without hot meals for a week if it meant Pinkie never did that thing with her eyes again.

Nopony spoke up once breakfast got under way in earnest, and as she ate, Scootaloo saw Pinkie give up on trying to feed some of the others. A few minutes later, and with just one or two spoonfuls to go, the filly’s insides reminded her that she had just eaten beans.

“Uh oh.” Scootaloo gulped and stood up. Pinkie was doing something with Rumble’s brother on the table, and fortunately, nopony else was trying to get her attention at that moment. Scootaloo picked her way over across the crowded floor.

“Pinkie.” She kept her voice low and lifted her head, glancing over the edge of the table. Rumble’s brother—she really had to get his name—lay there half-changed, and with all his crying and fighting, he clearly had a problem with Pinkie’s attempts to get a fresh diaper on him. Scootaloo’s stomach turned. Thank goodness she’d never had to do that for Star Dew.

“Ye’, ‘Cootaloo?” Pinkie said, her teeth clenched around part of one of the diapers. She didn’t look up.

“What are we supposed to do for toilets?”

Pinkie set the diaper down. “The latrine is past the boxes at the new end of the escape tunnel." Then she gave the grey colt an encouraging nuzzle. "Come on, Crackle. Please? For Auntie Pink—”

That was when the little colt cut loose in Pinkie’s face and started crying again. Scootaloo decided not to stick around, but as she made her way towards where the escape tunnel had collapsed she could have sworn she heard Pinkie sniffling.

Party games took up most of the remainder of the morning, and Scootaloo found herself alone again. Even tooling around on her scooter at the pathetic speeds adults wanted would have been more fun than another round of the Gossip Game, Sleeping Lions, or Pin the Tail on the Pony; without the scooter or even the space to gallop around while buzzing her wings and making woosh noises, the orange filly was idle. As she pawed at the earthen floor aimlessly, rearranging and erasing patterns in the dust and imagining resemblances to bat ponies, her ears flicked and caught the sound of somepony retching at the latrine.

Weird, Scootaloo thought. Beans usually gave ponies trouble at the other end.

It was a few minutes later that Diamond Tiara laid down with a tired grunt next to Scootaloo. The pink filly looked a touch pale. Or perhaps it was the light?

“Having fun playing with dirt?” Diamond’s tone was weary rather than sharp, and she had to pause and swallow. Scootaloo raised an eyebrow as the filly went on. “It figures; if you can’t fly you might as well quit pretending those wings make you so much better.”

Scootaloo’s raised brow fell flat again. “What, are you fat between the ears now too? That was awful, D.T.”

“Whatever.” Diamond rolled her eyes. “You still managed to find something even more boring than those baby games. Good—Good job.”

“Lame.” Scootaloo slipped into a softer tone. “Was that you barfing? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine when we get out of this hole.”

“Whatever you say.” Scootaloo sighed and turned back to her imaginary patterns in the floor. If Diamond Tiara was hiding something, the truth would come out sooner or later. It always did, especially now that they were friends. “I thought we’d be out of here by now.”

“I guess everypony’s busy. But Daddy wouldn’t just leave me down here—” Diamond’s voice started to crack, but she recovered quickly “—so maybe he just doesn’t know where I am.”

“Yeah, and Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom wouldn’t abandon me. I’m sure they’re looking for me right now.” Or so Scootaloo hoped. Maybe they would be too busy around Sweet Apple Acres and the Carousel Boutique, or maybe grown-ups were busy being dumb ponies who didn’t let fillies do things that adults might call dangerous. But Pinkie had said it wasn’t safe to go outside at all. If even she hadn’t left yet…

Scootaloo swallowed a knot. Everything was fine.

Author's Note

I'm not happy with how long that took to write. Sorry!

Thunder

"Box of soup cans?" Pinkie dragged a box off one of the shelves and opened it. "Nope, box of banners for other parties. Not food." She glanced over at the badly burned but recently-knighted Sir Boxington, and dropped into a conspiratorial tone.

"Or are they?" She buried her head in the box, filling the room with messy eating noises and drawing the eyes of everypony who, unlike the youngest foals, was still awake. Then she pulled her head back up, spitting out the corner of a banner decorated with a miniature Hearth’s Warming tree. "Nope, they're not," she pronounced. "Where'd I put the box of soup cans?"

“Pinkie, we ate all the soup already.” Scootaloo sighed. All hope that the pink mare was just putting on extra weirdness for the party had faded over that week. From Pinkie’s flat-maned style and pep-less voice to her conversing with Sir Boxington, this was the new normal.

“We also ate everything else,” Diamond Tiara added. “Including one of the boxes, which was awful. We have to go outside. How bad can it be after a few days?”

“That’s the worst possible question,” said Scootaloo. Her grumbling belly reminded her what was important. “But Pinkie, there’s no food and almost no water left. We can’t just not eat or drink tomorrow.”

Pinkie sighed, hanging her head over the edge of the banner box.

“Okay. Sir Boxington and I will go out first thing and find something, Pinkie promise.” The pink mare trudged over to the empty box she’d made a bed of and curled up inside it. “Please, go to bed.”

The two fillies retreated to the corner they had staked out and into their box-bed, which was made slightly less uncomfortable by a layer of party streamers.

“Seriously,” Scootaloo whispered, “don’t ask questions like that. Don’t you know better than to tempt Fate?”

“Whatever,” Diamond Tiara hissed back. “The first thing I’m going to do when we leave is take a bath for days. This place smells awful.”

Scootaloo wrinkled her muzzle. She had been trying to ignore the odor of unwashed ponies that permeated the cellar. “Good thing we’ve got you to remind us of the important things, Diamond.”

A long, high shriek of horror catapulted Scootaloo out of sleep and nearly to the ceiling. Her wings buzzed uselessly as she dropped back to the floor, looking about wildly and understanding nothing. The world was quick to shift into coherent form, however, and the first thing that made sense was the sight of Diamond Tiara. The other filly kept screaming at the floor in front of her, her eyes wide and her pupils shrunken dots.

“Diamond?” Scootaloo trotted over for a better look—

—and quickly turned away, swallowing back her sudden nausea. “Oh Celestia,” she whimpered, as soon as she was certain she could open her mouth without vomiting. She looked up to find all the younger fillies and colts staring at her and at Diamond, who had finally stopped screaming. She shuddered. Where was Pinkie Pie?

“Go… over there,” she said, gesturing to the furthest corner. “All of you. Right now. Play, uh, checkers or something.” To Scootaloo’s relief, the others got the message, giving her space to deal with Diamond. She sat down next to her friend and gave her a nudge to the shoulder, avoiding looking down at the mess in front of them. She still gagged on the smell of it for a moment before she could talk.

“Come on, Diamond.” No response. The filly was like a statue. “C’mon, what happened?” More silence, broken only by Rumble’s brother’s crying and the muttering of some of the others. “Seriously! Snap out of it!” Scootaloo gave Diamond a shove. That finally did something, at least. It made the stricken filly burst into tears.

The pegasus looked away. What was she supposed to do now? This was too weird. Diamond Tiara never cried. She yelled or stomped or threatened, not this.

Well… what would Rainbow Dash do?

Scootaloo instinctively stretched out her right wing to wrap it around her friend’s back. Her wing was too small, of course; that wouldn’t work. She replaced it with her right foreleg.

“Don’t—Don’t look at that,” she said. “Look at something else, Diamond. Uh, look at me. Come on, look at me.”

It took a moment, but Diamond Tiara finally raised her head and turned it towards Scootaloo, who caught a glimpse of tears still running down her muzzle. Then they were gone again as Diamond clung to the orange filly, burying her face in her breast to muffle her sobs until they petered out.

After a minute of silence, Diamond tore herself away, turned around, and glared at the floor. “That didn’t happen,” she said. “Understand?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Scootaloo nodded. Typical Diamond Tiara. “I, uh, I guess let’s clean this up?”

“Fine. We… we can bury what’s left out past the latrine, then.”

“I’m back,” Pinkie said, her voice strained. Her coat had taken on a rainbow sheen over its vivid pink in the dim light, and she struggled to keep Sir Boxington balanced on her head while her hooves were occupied with climbing down the ladder. “I found—Oh, yuck!” Burial and the passing of a few hours had made the smell more bearable, but no less present. She gagged, and muttering an “Owie!” under her breath for every rung, she hastened to the floor and deposited her box-friend with a thunk.

Once firmly on the floor, Pinkie sniffed, gagged again, and glanced over the remaining foals, muttering names under her breath. As she did her whole frame sagged, and her eyes turned weary. Finally, she turned to Scootaloo.

“How?” Pinkie asked.

Scootaloo looked over to Diamond Tiara, who shook her head. “Pound Cake tried to fly,” the orange filly said. Pinkie Pie rubbed her eyes and let out a sigh that turned into a coughing fit.

“Where is he?” the mare asked, once she had recovered.

“We buried him at the end of the tunnel.”

“I…” Pinkie’s voice hitched, and she hung her head. When she spoke again, it was toneless. “I’m glad I have you two. Sir Boxington is breaking his flaps trying to carry everything.”

There was food and water again, however limited, but only some of the younger fillies and colts could eat. Instead of joining them Scootaloo lay next to Diamond Tiara, apart from the others, and listened when Pinkie joined them and spoke.

“It’s not good outside,” said Pinkie. There was a slight tremor in her tone, but she kept her voice low so the fillies had to strain to hear her over the other children’s talking and eating. “It… It might take a while for other ponies to come. We have to eat and drink less. No fun, I know—”

“Urgh,” Diamond said. “Like I’ll ever be able to eat again, anyway.” Scootaloo stuck her tongue out and released a bleh in agreement.

“I know, right?” said Pinkie. She made a face of her own, but neither filly smiled. “I’m going to need you two to help with a game I’m setting up. It’s called, um…” Pinkie sighed, her ears drooping. “It’s called ‘Help Take Care of the Foals While Pinkie Finds Food,’ ” she finished lamely.

“Boring,” Diamond Tiara said, getting up on her hooves and yawning emphatically. “Whatever. I’m going to what passes for bed, I guess. Come on, Scoots.”

“I…” Scootaloo turned her head to follow Diamond, then shuffled uncomfortably off the floor. Why did friends have to make things so difficult sometimes? “I’m sorry, Pinkie.”

As the fillies walked back to the other end of the room in the dimming candlelight, Pinkie sighed. “Hoo boy...”

“Seriously, Diamond?” Scootaloo asked as she settled into her hard bed of cardboard and streamers. “What the hay was that about? This was our chance!”

“Our chance to what, get cutie marks in diaper changing?” Diamond rolled her eyes and shifted her legs, trying to get comfortable. “Please. Even if we didn’t both have our cutie marks already, don’t tell me you actually want that.”

“That’s not it at all! Diamond, I’m fifteen,” Scootaloo said. “You’re almost fourteen. We’re as good as grown up now and I don’t know about you, but I wanted to prove it to somepony other than Pappy.”

“Seriously? The only thing I’m looking forward to is running all of Daddy’s stores, and he’s told me a dozen times he’s not old enough to retire yet.” Diamond shook her head. “Besides, grown-ups are boring. You don’t want to be boring, do you, Scoots?”

“Well—”

“I didn’t think so. Just look at Pinkie,” said Diamond. “She finally grew up and now she’s boring. And weird.”

“I guess…” Scootaloo knew she didn’t sound convinced. Now that she thought of it, though, her friend was right in a way. Pinkie ranged from boring most of the time to outright scary when she reminded everypony not to use magic. This wasn’t the fun Pinkie who had arranged every one of the birthday parties she could remember.

But Pinkie’s voice had trembled. For that one moment, it had almost broken. No matter how weird she had become, and no matter how un-Pinkie she behaved, she was still a pony, and there were some things that showed no matter who you were.

“Pinkie’s scared.” Scootaloo gave her friend a hard look and squirmed atop her streamer-bedding in an attempt to settle the chill in her belly. “She and her friends have saved Equestria more times than we’ve had birthdays, and she’s scared of this.”

Diamond’s facade fell. She took a long, shuddering breath. “I know. That’s what has you scared too, isn’t it?”

“I’m not scared!” Scootaloo hissed.

“You’re not fooling anypony.” Diamond laid her head down and sighed. “Look, you can play tough like your stupid idol—”

“Rainbow Dash is not stupid!” Scootaloo sat up sharply, disturbing the layer of streamers. Her wings flared in anger.

“—or you can play smart,” Diamond continued over the interruption. “Scootaloo, we can’t let anypony know. The last thing we need is for everypony to get scared.”

“Pound Cake is dead, Diamond Tiara. I think it’s a little late for that.”