Meadowbrook

998 ANM

"You know, Iolite," the old bat pony began, her hooves idly fitting together the thousand-piece puzzle which lay on the table before her, "Scootaloo's doing well. After everything that happened, what with her father... You've done a good job."

Iolite laughed and nuzzled her mother's cheek. She then took a piece of puzzle from Nightlark's hoof and placing it down with a smug grin. "I do my best. I don't think she'll ever get over the accident, though; those wings of hers seem too weak."

"I'm not surprised, to be honest," Nightlark said, sipping a little ice-cold water from a cup at her side. She then returned her attention to the puzzle and let her hoof trail across the pieces; when it landed on a particular piece, bright orange in colour and presumably picturing gently crackling flames, her breath caught in her throat and she frowned a little. "The fall was bad and broke all the bones, did it not? That's quite a serious injury, and I can't help but feel that, when you consider her... lack of pedigree, shall we say, she was doomed from the start."

Iolite was quiet before she stood up sharply and scowled, fiddling with the claws on her wings. "Mother! We've been through this before. Just because Snapshot is not a bat pony and, as such, our daughter is as such an earth pony, that does not make her some sort of... mongrel. And your great-granddaughter is not a crossbreed either."

Nightlark grumbled a little and slouched in her chair. "You have your opinion, and I have mine. You know how I was raised; acceptance of bat pony hybrids does not not come naturally, even after all of these years, for me. And I—"

"Iolite!"

Nightlark quietened herself immediately and stood up, her wings flared out and her fangs slightly bared, her slitlike eyes glinting. Snapshot, who had galloped into the room, cowered slightly at the sight and shot to his wife's side instead; the old bat pony's glare only made his nerves worse. But, at his wife's forceful nudge, he elaborated.

"It's Scootaloo! I can't find her!" he cried, trotting on the spot nervously. His heavy earth-pony hooves and brand new horseshoes were loud as they crashed against the wooden floor; they would surely leave a mark.

"What? Why were you not watching her?"

Snapshot moaned and hung his head, though his fidgeting did not stop. "We were playing hide-and-seek! But I've looked for at least half an hour, and no filly can hide that well—especially not Scoots!"

Iolite gritted her teeth slowly so that her fangs were also bared, her claws raking slightly across Snapshot's white fur. He cowered slightly as she did so and recoiled slowly; she then took a break a deep breath in and pulled herself away, trying to force a smile onto her muzzle as she said, "She's a cheeky foal, but there's only so far that she can go before she ends up in the... in the forest. And she wouldn't go in there, would she?" Everypony shared a glance and frowned. "She would, wouldn't she?"

967 ANM

"You know, Mum, it wouldn't hurt so much to just talk about things."

Birds chirped overhead happily as they danced about on the breeze, flittering around eachother in perfect circles. Some would consider it a mating ritual, and others simply saw it as Faust's way to inspire her little ponies to get up in the morning. Whatever the case, they didn't judge eachother based on anything more than appearance and strength; the valuability of their genetic code was all that mattered. All that they took into account.

"I am fine, Ink," Dakota snapped, her wings ruffling. In the breeze of the morning she could feel her tufted ears being slightly blown about. She was grateful, truth be told, for the gentle wind; as it was, with the shade of the trees as well, the day was just about pleasant for a batpony to be outside in. "Why do you find it so necessary to question every little thing? I am not ill, but you seem intent on forcing my past back on me."

Ink snorted quietly and trotted in front of Dakota, his eyes narrowed and his ears pinned. When his mother attempted to overtake him, he then grabbed her tail with his magic and scowled, keeping her behind him so that he could focus his eyes directly on hers when he walked backwards. "Because I worry about you, Mum. I knocked on the door this morning and you were about to attack me when you opened it!"

"You didn't need to come in the first place, though."

Ink rolled his eyes. "It was the doctor's orders, Mum. If he's concerned about you then I am not just going to look over that." The stallion was quiet before he turned back around and gave a short laugh. "And, y'know, maybe I wanted to get away from Manehattan for a while."

Dakota scowled and stuck her nose up in the air, determinedly walking with her tail flagged high. After a few moments and a glance to her son's cheeky grin, she then sighed and smiled a little herself. "Okay, I admit it. Maybe I overreacted earlier. But I... I thought I heard someone in the house."

Ink stiffened slightly and had to trot a few paces to catch up once again. "You... heard someone?" he prompted, eyebrows raised.  Upon realising her mistake, Dakota was quick to shake her head and utter a reply.

"Oh! Don't worry, it was just... Just creaking. You know how old wooden houses can be." She gave a somewhat uncertain laugh before she outstretched her leathery wing to pull her son closer to her side, the hook of her wing entwined in his fur. "Sometimes you would swear they are haunted!"

Ink gave a slow and uncertain chuckle as he ducked out from under his mother's wing, then skipping away before she could pull him back. After a few attempts at catching him—it transpired that years of dodging his mother's embraces had trained him well in the art of agility—she then gave in. With her wings dragging across the floor, her hooks leaving tracks in the dirt, she then took a moment to glance about herself. The trees were still young, the trespassing offspring of the Everfree Forest's specimens. It was a rather peculiar scene; somehow, it managed to be both unnerving and awe-inspiring all at the same time.

But there was something else. Something about this place... It seemed magical, almost, and not just in the sense that Equestria was a land fuelled on it.

"Hello?"

Dakota yelped and spun around, her larger-than-usual wings outstretched and fangs bared as she looked about wildly, her eyes as bold as those of a predator. Ink did not leave her waiting, either, and he reacted only a fraction of a second slower, his horn lit and a rock now clasped in his aura. But there was no danger to meet them; only a middleaged bat pony stallion, whose coat was a rare shade of brown and whose night-sky mane fell in messy but maintained waves around his face, exaggerating his strong jaw.

"Oh, Luna!" he cried, stepping backwards quickly with his head held slightly lower in a submissive gesture. When no attack came—though Ink had calmed and lowered his defences, the mare still kept up hers—the new stallion began to speak slowly. "I'm sorry, but we don't get many new visitors here." He scowled at Ink Splash and gritted his teeth, his wings opening slightly so that the sunlight bounced off of his polished hooks. "Well, we get a few Equestrian tourists, but we don't get many other bat ponies."

Ink Splash raised an eyebrow and picked up the rock again, stepping closer. "You could say that with less disgust, you know," he hissed, his horn sparking. "And I am half a bat, anyway, so I would assume that makes me acceptable for you?"

The new stallion scowled. "Hardly. Tradition has always dictated the impurity of mongrels."

Dakota stepped forwards and growled, her ears pinned back. "My son is no mongrel, you pompous featherwing," she snarled, her wings twitching dangerously. Ink Splash frowned and took a step away from her, well aware of the damage her claws could do. The other bat pony seemed to recognise this too and yelped, falling to his stomach and whining, his tail tucked.

"Point taken, Ma'am!" the stallion grunted whilst he scooted backwards, his wings now protecting his face. After a few seconds, however, he stopped dead in his tracks and looked up to the mare with a curious, terrified frown. "Where did you learn that insult?"

The mare stopped in her tracked, taken aback, and thought about it for a few moments. She then shrugged and said, in a grating tone of voice, "I don't know. I've always used it, since I was a foal."

There was silence between the three before the stallion rose to his hooves slowly, stepping away from the slightly growling mare, and looked at her slowly. When his eyes rested on hers he then whispered, "It couldn't be... Dakota? Is that you?"

Dakota paused and folded away her wings. As she gave a short nod she then began to stalk around the stallion, tugging at his fur and mane with her hooks and sniffing the scent which he gave off. She flicked her ears as she did so and took in the exact sound, the pitch and volume, of his breathing; she then drew back and shrugged, a curious frown on her face. "I presume you know me from my foalhood? From when I lived here?"

The stallion nodded slowly. "Sure do. Don't you... Don't you remember me?" At Dakota's head shake, he sighed and began to look Ink Splash over again, his expression now one of disappointment. "My name's Pop... You sure you don't remember me? The village was pretty small."

"My mind's blank."

Pop dug at the earth slowly and murmured, "I was here for about a year before you moved away. Uh, 930 ANM, was it? Ring any bells?"

"Oh." Dakota hung her head and let out a sigh, at which point Ink Splash trotted to her side and nuzzled her cheek slowly. He then raised his head and glared at Pop, watching him with sharp attention the likes of which only the descendent of a bat pony could achieve. Before he could say anything, though, the mare raised her hoof and shook her head. "No, Ink. You don't need to protect me." She then turned to Pop as said, with a sorrowful smile, "I'm sorry. My mind is blank—especially that year. I don't know why, I don't know what happened, but I can't remember anything."

Pop stiffened. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Well, maybe I can help with that," Pop said, a confident grin on his face as he took a timid step closer. When he was not attacked, he then slowly, slowly opened his wing and stepped away from Dakota and Ink Splash, beckoning for them to follow him deeper into the Everfree Forest. After a silent debate, the mare then flew up into the air slowly and began to catch up to her kin; the unicorn could only sigh and oblige, following on hoof at a trot.

998 ANM

"Scootaloo! Come on out, Squirt!"

Nightlark snarled slightly, her wings furling and unfurling as she frantically limped about. Her chest burned with each step and her body was in agony; searching for her great granddaughter in the midday heat and light was not a natural thing for a batpony to do, to say the least. It was something of a relief, hence, to have stepped into the cool darkness of the Everfree, although the realisation that searching here meant Scootaloo had not been found elsewhere was a painful one.

No filly—and an Equestrian, rather than a bat pony, to boot—would be able to survive in there for long. Not alone, at least.

Nightlark sighed and then threw her head back as she released a high pitched cry, her ears flicking for a response. When Iolite's equally pained reply came, a sound which could be translated as signifying a lack of success, the old mare then moaned and hung her heavy head—and then it struck her.

It was something of an unpleasant scent to a bat pony, that of the pegasi race. They were so similar, yet the differences were subtle and enough to make a mare scrunch up her nose in disgust—not for the smell itself, but for the race that it belonged to. Of all the Equestrians the pegasi were the most loathed by the bats, and vice versa; each side saw the other as something of a cheap rip off of their species, for lack of a better word, and both had something of a stubborn streak so as not to back down. But right now, despite Nightlark's ingrained distaste for the ponies of Equestria, this particular scent held the soft hint of scooter oil.

"Scootaloo!" Nightlark gasped, her eyes suddenly alight as she shot forwards. With her nose close to the ground she sniffed about wildly, just about able to pick up the subtle traces of the filly's scent until, at long last she found her—and promptly gasped at the sight.

"Nanna!" Scootaloo cried as the elderly mare all but fell into the clearing in which she now sat, a big grin on her face. She was a filly who had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar, but equally a filly who was proud of getting the prize in the first place. "Nanna, look what I found! Isn't it cool!"

Nightlark's mouth fell open in a small 'o' as she stepped closer, her wings now folded to her side as she looked up at the tree before her. It towered over everything else that grew here and was easily the healthiest specimen for miles around, but it was not that which earned her awe. Rather, it was the faintly glowing yellow runes which were scratched onto the tree's trunk that had stolen her focus. When she approached, she held out a hoof and touched them gently, marvelling in the coolness of them under her hoof—until her eyes landed on one particular rune, carved into the middle of the batch, and she drew backwards slowly. It did not glow as the others did, nor did it give off any heat.

"What are they, Nanna?"

Nightlark was quiet and took a step backwards before she looked down at the filly, her face a frown. "I... This never happened before," she whispered, rubbing behind her ears. Her gaze darted between the filly and the runes unstoppably, and each time that she did so her discomfort only heightened. At the filly's impatient cough, however, she forced herself to continue. "This... This is the Memoire Tree, Scootaloo," she began, her words hesitant. "It is a sacred place where the village used to come, back when I was a filly, to say goodbye to their dead. Some of these runes are new; I assume that a few bat ponies, who still know the art of runic carving and value tradition, still do."

Scootaloo frowned. "Did they not have a funeral, then?"

Nightlark shook her head. "Let me explain, sweetheart. The funeral, in our old tradition, was only the first stage in sending off a loved one. Though usually the ceremony would be enough to send a spirit to the next life, some would still linger. And that is where this tree comes in... You see the runes carved into its trunk, yes?" Scootaloo nodded and shuffled closer, touching them lightly with a hoof. "Well, those runes are special. Each rune is for a specific pony, and each rune is different. Each rune tells of the deceased's greatest talent or most admirable quality; it is personal. And then, over the top of it a second symbol is carved; the rune for life, which takes away any life left over from the lingering soul and, in turn, rejuvinates the Memoire Tree. The tree is made healthier, and the confused spirit is pushed from the land of the living to continue its journey."

Scootaloo nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. After a few moments of being quiet, she then asked, "So why are the runes glowing?"

Nightlark stepped closer and frowned, tracing the unlit rune with her hoof. "I do not know, little filly. Maybe it has something to do with you; you must be special, somehow." As she reached the bottom of the rune, Nightlark pulled away and stared at it closely before she gasped quietly. "But this rune here... it has been tampered with. That is why it is not glowing like the others."

"How do you know, Nanna?"

Nightlark looked down at Scootaloo quietly and smiled. "I was there when it was carved, squirt. I have thought of the rune each day of my whole life."

"Woah," Scootaloo said, her eyes wide. "That's a lot of days!"

Nightlark laughed quietly and pulled the pegasus filly to her side with a hoof. If it had been anyone but her family, she would not have even considered doing so. "Yes, it is." She held her tongue for a moment before she then said, "We'd better get you home, Scootaloo. Everypony is worried; you should not have run off as you did."

Scootaloo hung her head, a small blush on her cheeks. "Sorry, Nanna." She then hopped to her hooves and began to canter on the spot, but before she could run off Nightlark grabbed her tail with her teeth.

"That's alright, little filly, but I want you to promise me something. Okay?" At Scootaloo's nod, she finished with, "Please, don't mention this tree to anyone else. Not yet. It... It can be our little secret, yeah?"

Scootaloo grinned and nodded eagerly, at which Nightlark laughed as well and then began to push the filly onwards, giving a shrill cry so as to alert Iolite to Scootaloo's being found. Once she had done so, and had heard the relief-filled reply, she stepped out of the clearing herself and felt the magic dissipate.

"That was weird, huh, Nanna?" Scootaloo chirped as she skipped along, buzzing her little wings feebly every few steps. Nightlark couldn't help but nod.

"Very much so, little one. Very much so."

967 ANM

"This," Pop began as he waved his hoof in the air infront of himself, "is the Memoir Tree. When I was a kid it was a pretty big deal, and... Well, I figured that it might trigger some memories or something."

"Wow," Dakota whispered, her eyes wide and ears pricked forwards at the sight. As she brushed through the foliage and into the clearing, however, she couldn't help but yelp when the carved symbols on the tree's trunk began to glow ever so faintly yellow. Pop and Ink reacted with just as much surprise, but the former was the most affected.

"What the! Luna's feathers, something's wrong here! This isn't meant to happen, the— wait." Pop stepped closer ever so cautiously and touched his claw to the sole unlit rune. "Why is this not lit up?"

Dakota whimpered quietly and stepped backwards, then frowning when the lights died as she did so. She pressed a hoof experimentally back inside the clearing and watched with perplexed fear as the lights came on once again—and then turned her gaze to Pop, who looked, in a word, agitated.

"You always were a special one, weren't you, Dakota?" Pop murmured, his eyes slightly narrowed. He then smiled and walked past her, but not before he shook the claw of her wing with his own, puny in comparison. "Well... Enjoy yourself, but don't... Don't touch too much. I'll see you 'round, and it's good to see you again after so many years." Pop winked as he unhooked his claw. "I just hope you can remember me at some point, okay?"