Canterlot Academy For Pets

Script Write’s eyes fluttered open, her orange fur bathed in the warm morning sunlight passing through the crack in her curtains. She lazily gazed around her room from her bed, emerald eyes staring at her pink wallpaper, taking in the familiar marks and scuffs she made when she was younger. Her eyes then wandered to the window as she sat up in her bed, where she could see the base of Canterlot mountain.

She lived in the residential district of Canterlot, where everypony who couldn’t afford the expense of owning an apartment in the city center at the mountaintop lived.The residential district lay at the base of the mountain, sprawling with suburb after suburb.

The thick smell of honey and oats the wafted through her slightly ajar bedroom door, bringing her further into the waking world. Suddenly, she remembered, today was the day she left for school, and a very special school at that!

Script was like many six year-old foals: hyperactive when energised, grumpy when tired and anywhere in between at any other time. However, Script was among a very special group of foals who were to be chosen by Masters to be their pets, an age old Equestrian tradition which still serves well to this day as a privilege granted to those of noble status.

The unicorn filly jumped out of bed, her usual happy grin brightening her face even more than usual. She hopped up onto a stool in front of her dresser, looking at herself in the mirror as she readied herself for the day ahead.

She picked up a brush in her magic running it through her short yellow mane.  Brushing it into her usual tidy, short and straight hairstyle. Turning around she looked over her shoulder, using the brush to do the same to her tail. She slid on her flowery headband and slipped some of her magically preserved, vibrant tropical flowers into her mane and tail. Then she picked up her coat brush, combing through her orange fur to straighten it out, taking extra care to go over every inch of her body as she wanted to look especially good for her first day at school.

Finally, she picked up her special bottle of perfume, given to her by her mother after being granted her scholarship and sprayed a few squirts onto her neck. It was just like any foal’s perfume but with a little bit of a special chemical, whose name she could never pronounce, added to give it a special ‘kick’ as her mom said.

Once she decided she was ready for the world to see her, she practically bounced down the stairs and into the main living area of her family’s house. She glanced to the kitchen to see her father, Engine Steam, humming as he stirred a pot, presumably full of delicious oats.

Engine Steam was the head engineer at the Royal Airship Company, the company that produced almost all of Equestria’s military and royally operated airships, this meant he gained a certain amount of influence with the princesses, granting him and his family their noble status.

As Script trotted into the kitchen, she inhaled the pleasantly thick and rich scent, her mouth already drooling with anticipation as she watched Steam cook.

“Where’s mother?” She asked, noticing the absence of her mother, who was usually up and preparing for work.

“What do you say to me first thing in the morning, sweetpea?” he asked teasingly, smiling down at her.

“Good morning Father!” she replied forgetting the question she was asking as she mentally kicked herself for forgetting the phrase that had been drilled into her since the day she could speak to make sure she always respected her elders.

“Good girl, how about you let Father take care of everything this morning?” The brown unicorn said affectionately, “You’ve got a big day ahead and I want it to be the best first day it can be.”

“Thank you Father!”

“You’re welcome. How about you go make sure your saddlebags are packed up with everything you need, okay?”

The filly nodded in response, “Yes Father!” She said gleefully as she bounced out of the kitchen down the hallway, passing her father’s study (where she’d never been allowed to go lest she mess with any of his important documents), her father’s basement-turned-dungeon (where her parents spend at least one night a week) and her parent’s bedroom. Finally, she passed into the living room where she’d left her saddlebags after they’d both packed the night before. The filly picked up the bags along with a list of her required stationery and equipment as sent to her by her school, The Canterlot Academy For Pets and Broodmares.

The living room wasn’t all that different to that of most families. It sported some slightly worn black faux-leather sofas and a coffee table, which at that point in time hosted the remnants of the last family game night. Playing cards were strewn around an in-progress game of Appleloosa Hold-em from the night before. Everypony involved had realised it was three in the morning and their wives had expected them home two hours ago after leaving with the kids, promptly leaving the game as not to be reprimanded for being out too late.

Script started listing off all the items she was required to take to school as she removed them from her bag, “Pencils, ruler, gag, and…” She trailed off, “Father?” she called out.

“Yes sweetpea?” he replied from the kitchen, where he was serving the pair’s oats and topping them with sliced strawberries, one of Script’s favourite treats.

The filly scrambled around the living room desperately, looking for the maths textbook she couldn’t find in her bags, “I can’t find my maths textbook!” she shouted.

“I’ll help you look after breakfast, okay?” he replied, wandering into the room and looking down at the orange blur running around, checking under sofas and cushions.

“Okay…” she griped, giving up her search temporarily to make her way back into the kitchen and hop up onto her stool at the table.

“Okay who?” he reminded her, tapping her on the horn lightly with a hoof.

“Okay Father…” she repeated exasperatedly.

“Now, eat up,” Steam said, “I made your favourite!”

He picked up the two bowls in his magic. One being a clean white color and the other a bright pink, with the word ‘princess’ written on the side. He placed the pink bowl in front of Script and the white one in front of his own seat before sitting down next to her, watching her face to see her reaction.

Script was overjoyed, her textbook woes forgotten as a huge grin spread across her face. She looked down at her oats which were covered in plenty of cream, sugar and strawberries, so much so that one could barely see the oats underneath!

She picked up her spoon in her yellow aura and started digging into the oats, getting stray food spread all around her mouth as she scoffs it down as quickly as possible.

Steam chuckled as he watched his daughter eat, taking his time to eat his food, “Slow down sweetie, those oats aren’t going anywhere,” he told her, prompting her to slow down for a few bites before going back to her breakneck pace.

Having finished her oats, Script quickly downed the glass of juice her father had placed beside her bowl, making the orange fur around her mouth just a little more vibrant as she placed it down and hopped up from her seat simultaneously.

“Careful sweetpea, you’ll-” Steam’s warning was interrupted by a loud gurgle from Script’s belly and a groan from her mouth, “Get a cramp…” he finished, bringing his hoof to his face.

Script stood for a moment, her face grimacing until the pain subsided. She bounced off to look for the missing textbook once again with renewed vigor from the unhealthy amount of sugar she had consumed.

She checked everywhere, under the sofas, under the cushions, even in the lampshades but the book was nowhere to be found. Script’s panic was mounting as she started getting more and more anxious, checking the clock on the wall constantly.

Engine Steam, however, was much calmer than his daughter. He stood from the table, leaving his spoon in his bowl of oats and trotting over to the filly. He booped her on the horn, “Are you sure you should be worrying, sweetpea?” he asked, glancing over to the coffee table where a thick textbook with a series of equations inside lay open.

“O-Oh!” Script exclaimed, casually trotting over to the coffee table and grabbing the textbook, taking it back and stuffing it in her saddlebags as she turned to face her Father with a look of embarrassment on her face.

“What do we say?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“Thank you, Father,” Script said embarrassedly.

Steam nodded, “Good girl,” he told her, glancing up at the wall clock, which read as 8:35. A look of worry spread across his face as he realised, Script was meant to be to at the train platform ten minutes ago!

Script was confused by this, tilting her head at Steam, “What’s wrong, Father?” she asked, looking up at the clock with him, they had 45 minutes before she had to be at the platform! He lept into action, explaining nothing as he put her saddle bags on and grabbed her luggage while he hurried her outside, “Come on sweetie, we’ll be late!” he quickly exclaimed before shutting the door behind her, leaving her to stumble about confusedly for a little while.

Her father hurried down the street towards the town square, where the great spire of a clocktower dwarfed the surrounding buildings, “Come on, Script!” he shouted over his shoulder, “We’ll be late!”

Script obeyed her father’s instruction, figuring he just wanted to make sure they were there nice and early so they don’t miss the train. She cantered after him, her saddlebags adding an extra weight with all the extra items they’d stuffed in the night before after trying and failing to fit them into her already overfilled and forcefully closed suitcase.

She panted as she caught up to him, “Wh-What’s the rush?” she asked, slowing to a brisk trot as they approached the familiar sight of the town center setting up for the sunday market. The warm scent of freshly baked bread wafting past her nose and filling her with memories of her little corner of Canterlot’s lower residential sector.

She slowed as a pang of sadness suddenly pounded into her the depths of her belly. She wasn’t going to be home for a long time, much longer than she’d ever been away from her town, or her parents!

Pain shot through her ear as Steam gave it a quick tug, a reminder of her father’s apparent haste as he powered through the small crowd of ponies looking to get first dibs on the more premium goods on offer at the market, not even apologising as he pushed his way through ponies patiently lining up in front of the stalls, causing a few cries of frustration.

“Sorry!” Script shouted back at the crowd as she was dragged towards the clocktower, which towered above the entrance to the train station where she would be taking a train to upper Canterlot.

The train station was a grand building, functioning as one of the main thoroughfares for trains travelling to and from Canterlot. The entrance was an intricately decorated doorway with two large statues of the Princesses on either side.

Script didn’t have time to admire the details of the entrance as her father pulled her into the main lobby of the station, which was just as lavishly dressed as the outside of the building with its marble pillars covered in engravings to represent Equestrian legends and stories.

Her father stopped for just a moment, allowing her to pant for breath as he checked her ticket, looking for the platform number, “Platform three!” he announced before resuming his haste towards the platform, Script in tow.

As she neared the platform, a realisation started to dawn upon Script as she spied her mother, aunts and uncles, cousins, along with all kinds of other family members.

Were they waiting for her?

Script suddenly realised why her mother wasn’t at home that morning, giving herself a mental kick for the second time that morning. How was it so easy for her father to distract her like that?

One of her cousins pointed at her as he saw her round the corner onto the platform, prompting all of the ponies to rush towards her excitedly, her mother reaching her first, pulling her into a tight, warm hug as the rest of her family crowded around her.

“Ooh, my little girl is growing up!” said her mother, Clean Sweep as she squeezed Script as tightly as possible.

“Easy dear,” Her father chuckled, placing a hoof on Sweep’s shoulder and prompting her to let go of Script, allowing her the room to breathe for just a moment before she was crowded with other ponies all trying to give her some form of advice.

“Make sure you do all your homework!” her older cousin told her as he ruffled her mane playfully.

“Don’t be afraid to ask the teachers for help, it’s their job to teach you!” her uncle instructed, nodding at her approvingly.

When she got to her aunt Oven Mitts, however, her advice was seemingly a lot more secret. Her collar bell ringing as the pregnant broodmare leaned towards Script, "The door to the western end of the stallion’s dorms is usually loose, just give the handle a good bash~” she whispered teasingly, just loud enough so her parents behind her couldn’t hear, but enough to cause Script to blush furiously as she remembered that Oven was an Academy alumnus.

The hugs, hoofshakes and kisses seemed to take forever. Everypony had come to see her off, even some family friends and ponies she hadn’t met at one time since she was a tiny foal!

Finally, the clocktower sounded ten o’clock, the time when the train was scheduled to arrive at the station.

As the bell rang, the crowd of excited ponies fell somewhat silent, realising that it was time to say goodbye to Script as the sound of a train’s whistle sounded from far down the tracks, slowly getting louder as the train approached.

The time between the bells chiming and the train arriving felt like the longest thirty seconds of Script’s life. She felt the pang of sadness return in full force, the empty feeling growing in her belly with every moment that the train got closer.

The train pulled into the platform, it’s doors sliding open to reveal a few ponies standing with luggage in their grip, magical or otherwise. Script watched them get off the train as her parents came back to hug her once more, pulling her into a tight group hug that felt like it lasted forever.

Once the hug was over, her mother stepped back, placing both of her hooves on Script’s shoulders, “Now, remember to keep your dorm tidy and make sure you always do what your teachers tell you and--” She started to ramble as tears welled up in her eyes before she was interrupted by the feeling of Steam’s hoof touching her shoulder lightly.

“Don’t worry dear, she’ll be fine,” he told her, his expression not matching his calm tone as he too held back tears.

The train’s whistle blew again, reminding the ponies on the platform of their schedule.

“Well…” Script said, “I guess I gotta go now, huh?” she asked, prompting nods from her parents.

“We love you sweetie, don’t forget that,” her mother told her, kissing her on the forehead lovingly.

Steam hugged his daughter one last time, not saying a word lest he burst out in tears. He offered her the handle of her suitcase, which Script took with her mouth, dragging it backwards until she passed through the door and into the cabin of the train.

As she backed on, she spotted a few other family gatherings also coming to an end in the same way, it seemed she wasn’t the only foal heading to The Academy.

While she thought about this fact, the doors closed in front of her, jolting her out of her stupor as she ran to the window to look back at her family one last time.

The whistle sounded again before the familiar hiss of the steam engine reverberated through the train, the platform starting to move outside as the train pulled away from the station

“We love you!” her family called, their cries muffled through the walls of the carriage. “Don’t forget to write!”

Before long, the end of the platform raced past the window, leaving Script to nothing but her thoughts as the train made it’s way up the mountain.

What would school be like?

Would she make any friends?

Only time would tell.