No Worse Want

Chapters

Prologue
Than that of a Warm Hearth
Many Feathers Make a Bed
Better is the Small Fire that Warms on the Little day of Peace
Than a Great One to Burn You
Trust the Sun for Warming
A Full Cabin is Better than an Empty Castle
Reckless Courage
Measured Fear
The Beauty of Grace
Now What?
Something New
Something Old
Unfinished
Burning Embers are Easily Kindled

Prologue

For Scootaloo, the worst part of being homeless was the sheer amount of time it took up.

There were nightly dumpster dives for anything edible or useful. Honey’s Bakeshop could be counted on for day-old bread and muffins, and on lucky evenings other restaurants around Ponyville would toss enough to make a decent meal, but no icebox meant saving any of it was nigh impossible.

After school was the time to ask for odd jobs at the various shops around town. Sturdy Craft, the aging hardware store owner, usually had something on account of his aching knees. When asked about a steady job, however, he refused. “A little filly like you shouldn't worry so much about money,” he said. “That's your parents’ job.” She didn’t push. Pushing would lead to questions, and questions could land her back in the Manehattan orphanage she’d run away from three years ago. As it was, she could count on earning about fifteen bits a week, not enough to live off but enough to keep her from starving in a pinch. Probably.

The weekend meant a trip to the dump outside of town. It was where she had found the old ratchet set she used to keep her scooter tuned, as well as the few other things she counted among her belongings.

She wasn't really homeless, she liked to think when she was in a cheerful mood. She had a home, it just wasn't what most ponies thought of when they heard the word.

Under Quills and Sofas was a cellar meant for back stock; but thanks to a keen understanding of inventory, Davenport never used it. And that meant it was a big, mostly empty room that no one ever went into.

Scootaloo had noticed the unlocked cellar doors one night while rummaging in the dumpster. Unlike most doors she was used to seeing, there was no lock, and because they faced the alley and not the street she could come and go as she pleased. At first she’d just kept an eye on her discovery, surreptitiously watching the doors. After a week of not seeing anypony enter or leave she grew bolder. When she was sure no one was watching, she had placed a few rocks on the door. Every morning she'd check to see if the rocks moved, and after a week went by with them staying perfectly still, she took her first peek inside.

Her original idea had been to use the cellar as part of her network of dry places to sleep—a network that included a small cave near the lake and a run-down house on the outskirts of town. But the cave had a snake problem and construction had begun on the house. The Crusaders’ clubhouse was another option, but the Apples were early risers, and if they ever found her sleeping there… well, Scootaloo doubted she could lie well enough to keep them from meddling. So she had taken to spending every night in the cellar.

Quills and Sofas closed at seven, so there was never anyone above her when she was ready to settle in for the night, and as long as she was out by eight in the morning she could leave before whoever was opening the store that day came in.

Being homeless meant finding value in things most ponies wouldn't look twice at: scraps of food, old clothes, empty bottles and so on. So while most ponies would have seen a dusty cellar, Scootaloo saw four walls and a ceiling that would keep rain and thieves off her meager possessions. And a secluded place away from prying eyes.

On her first night, Scootaloo was terrified somepony would find her. But nopony ever did. And so the defunct storage cellar became her base of operations.

One cold night in the middle of winter, Scootaloo found herself shivering as she tried to fall asleep. It hadn’t been a particularly bad day, she had gotten enough to eat, but it was colder than usual. No ventilation meant she couldn’t light a fire, and though she’d found a space heater at the dump a few weeks ago, she hadn’t quite figured out how to fix it.

So she crawled onto the stack of cardboard that served as her mattress—it kept her off the cold ground anyway—and under a few blankets that were just warm enough to keep her from freezing.

Scootaloo shut her eyes tight and tried to imagine a different life. She wasn't in a dark cellar, she was in a real house with thick walls and a roaring fire, crackling as she settled next to it. . Thanks Rainbow Dash, she imagined herself saying as Rainbow draped a wing over her.

No problem, Squirt. Sure is cold outside, I'm glad we're in here instead of out there.

Scootaloo shifted slightly and the rush of cold air shattered her fantasy. She squeezed her eyes so tightly trying to recapture the illusion that a single warm tear slid down her cheek, but it was for naught.

Fine, she thought bitterly. It's cold, I'm in a cellar on top of some flattened boxes with a blanket that needs to be three times thicker. I. Don't. Care. So either kill me or let me go to sleep.

It wasn’t the first time she had railed against the forces of fate and consequences that had led her here; but just like all the other times, nothing happened. She remained both wide awake and miserably cold until exhaustion overtook her.

Scootaloo woke up shivering to the sound of her alarm clock. Her teeth chattered and she pulled her blanket around her tighter, hoping to trap some warmish air, pinning her foreleg under her in the process. Before long the resulting ache forced Scootaloo to roll over, breaking her cocoon. She growled and threw the blanket off completely, succumbing once again to the inevitable. She rubbed her hooves together trying to regain some feeling in her extremities. I hate winter.

As usual, her first real thought was the faint hope that she might get her cutie mark today.

All children in Equestria wanted to get their mark, it was a rite of passage. For Scootaloo, however, a mark meant a job, and possibly a way out.

Show up at the local farrier with a blank flank and ask for an apprenticeship, and maybe you'd get a quick lesson. Show up with a horseshoe mark and an example of your talent, and you'd be smelting ore by the end of the day.

But her flank was still plain orange. There was school to attend, junk to scavenge and bits to earn.

It was time to do it all over again.

Than that of a Warm Hearth

Applejack tipped her hat. “Sorry Scootaloo, Apple Bloom’s got chores today. Harvest season’s ridin’ up on us.”

“Oh, do you need any help?” Scootaloo tried to play it cool. A day working at the apple farm meant lunch, dinner, a few bits and some time with one of her best friends.

“Mighty kind of ya, but we got things covered today. Tell ya what though, when we’re finished I’ll see her your way.”

Scootaloo forced a smile despite having been denied a chance for some free food and a paycheck. “Thanks, Applejack. Maybe I’ll go see if Sweetie can come play. It’s not like she has any farm chores.”

“She sure don’t,” Applejack said with a chuckle as Scootaloo sped away on her scooter.

That's a no from everypony I've asked today—zero out of five, she thought glumly. A quick check of her coin purse confirmed what she already knew; she could afford to buy lunch or dinner, but not both. Her stomach groaned in protest. If I eat now I don’t know when I’m going to get another chance. A cold wind across her muzzle provided the perfect distraction.

If I can’t work, maybe I can fix that stupid heater! A flutter of her wings and a firm kick off the ground and she was on her way to library.

The Ponyville library was like no other library in Equestria. It lived in a giant crystal tree, and its head librarian was also a princess who was determined to make her it a repository of all the knowledge in Equestria—second only to the Canterlot Archive. Celestia had rebuffed a request to house sections of the historical archive in Ponyville, the rest of the library was on par with the famed Canterlot University branch in every way.

Still, the home maintenance and electrical engineering sections were well stocked, and finding them was easy. Scootaloo had been there before, for her and her friends’ lessons with the princess—what they called their Twilight Time. The hard part was finding a book that could actually help her. After a few hours she knew that space heaters worked by converting electrical energy to heat via electrical resistance, and they tended to stop working because circuits overloaded. She also learned that parts for some of the larger units—small ones like hers were apparently meant to be thrown away if they broke—cost over ten bits, plus more for a soldering iron.

Scootaloo groaned and smacked her borrowed copy of Getting Gadgets Going shut, then drooped her ears and mouthed a quick “sorry” to a nearby stallion. He chuffed in annoyance, but went back to his book, and Scootaloo breathed a sigh of relief. Helpful or not, the library was warm. She found herself not wanting to leave, not even to ease her hunger or find her sleeping spot.

She was tired though, and the oversized lounge chairs tucked away in a corner of the reading room looked so inviting. Princess Twilight wouldn’t have put them out if she didn’t want ponies to use them, right? She wheeled her scooter over, and settled into the chair farthest from the door; it was even more comfortable than it looked, soft and plush and nothing at all like stacked cardboard. It was all Scootaloo could do to not fall asleep instantly. She tucked her legs under her, curled her tail around her barrel, and closed her eyes. I'm just gonna rest for a moment, she resolved.

“She’s pretty out of it, Twi.”

“I know Spike, but we need to wake her up.”

Spike gently jogged the sleeping filly’s elbow. “Scootaloo,” he whispered. When that didn’t work he tried again, louder. Scootaloo fluttered her eyes, then bolted upright as soon as she realized where she was.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was just resting, honest,” she said, glancing furtively in every direction.

Spike brushed away the apology with a breezy wave of his claw. “It’s cool. We didn’t even know you were here.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said softly. The clock on the wall told her it was six in the evening, way later then she meant to stay. “I need to be getting home anyway.” Scootaloo grabbed her saddlebag and her scooter and trudged to the front door, Spike and Twilight following closely behind her.

As soon as Scootaloo opened the door she was hit with an icy blast of wind and snow to the muzzle. Twilight ushered her back inside while Spike wrestled the door shut. “Whoa!” he grunted. “The weather team really didn’t hold back on this one.”

Twilight sighed and shook her head. “Leave it to Rainbow Dash to ignore the wind speed and temperature guidelines.”

Scootaloo winced. “Is it okay if I leave my scooter here? I can’t ride it in this wind and I don’t want to carry it.”

“I’ve got a better idea: a sleepover! Scootaloo can stay for the night, right Twilight? I mean, you wouldn’t want her to walk home in this, would you?” Spike waved a claw at the swirling tempest outside.

“I don’t know Spike,I’ll bet her parents are getting awfully worried.”

“They’re not home!” Scootaloo said, a little too quickly. Seeing the concern on Twilight’s face she kept working the lie. “They’re in Manehattan. They’re not coming back until tomorrow anyway.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow but Spike’s wide eyes and the urgency in Scootaloo’s voice overruled her skepticism. “Fine,” she said indulgently. “Just promise me you two won’t be up all night reading Power Ponies comics.”

“Sorry Twi, no can do. C’mon Scootaloo, we can drop your stuff off in my room!” Spike said, grabbing Scootaloo by the hoof and leading her upstairs.

“Spike, Scootaloo, dinner’s ready! I made macaroni and cheese!” Twilight called. The two friends came bounding down the stairs to find a large cast iron pot in the middle of three table settings, steam wisping from under the lid.

“Don’t worry Scootaloo, it’s safe,” Spike said with a grin.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Very funny Spike.”

“You’re good at lots of stuff, Twilight, just not cooking,” Spike fired back. “Seriously though, Scoots, she makes a pretty tasty mac and cheese.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Scootaloo said, still wrestling with the idea that she was about to enjoy her first hot meal in a very long time. The three sat around the table and Twilight portioned them each out a heaping mound.

“Wow, Scoot you must be hungry,” Spike said as he watched Scootaloo wolf down the food in front of her.

“Uh yeah I kinda skipped lunch, thanks to that nap.” And breakfast, thanks to not having any.

“Well eat up, we’ve got lots more,” Spike said, helping himself to another spoonful.

“That must be nice,” Scootaloo said under her breath.

Twilight’s ears perked. “What was that?”

“Oh, I said it was nice of you to make dinner, thank you,” Scootaloo said aloud.

“You're very welcome. So, what are your parents doing in Manehattan?”

Despite her best efforts Scootaloo fumbled with her words. “Umm business stuff. Mom’s an architect and Dad works for a bank and she’s working on some building and money’s involved and—”

“Okay, okay, it’s a business thing, we get it,” Spike said before Scootaloo ran out of breath.

Twilight shot a scolding glance at the young dragon for interrupting. “Do they leave you alone a lot?” she said seriously.

“Sometimes,” Scootaloo said, intently studying her no longer appetizing dinner. “They’re really busy.”

Twilight laid a gentle hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “That must be hard.”

Scootaloo dropped her fork, flinching at the touch. “It’s not bad. It leaves me lots time with my friends, like Spike,” she said, hoping her smile would end Twilight’s current line of inquiry.

Fortunately for Scootaloo, Spike butted in again. “Well, if you ever want to stay here when your parents are out of town I’m sure Twilight wouldn’t mind. Would you Twilight?”

“Of course not,” Twilight answered. But the princess’s face looked just like it did when she was puzzling through a hard book. It was unnerving being studied like that, and Scootaloo could only hope that Twilight would get distracted by something else.

“You’ve got to read this one next Scootaloo. Fili-Second travels back in time but she messes up the future so when she comes back everything is all crazy.”

“Awesome!” Scootaloo replied. But before she could learn what the exact consequences of time travel were, Twilight knocked on the door.

She poked her head around the door frame with an amused smile. “Okay you two. It’s midnight and time for bed.”

Spike started to protest, but a look from Twilight told him his pleas would fall on deaf ears. A yawn sealed his fate. “Maybe you’re right, Twi.” He glanced over at Scootaloo to see if she was willing to take up the cause, but she nodded in agreement instead.

“You want the bed?” Spike asked after Twilight left.

“It’s your bed, Spike, I’ll be OK on the floor.”

“I’d be a pretty terrible host if I let you sleep on the floor. I’m totally comfortable down there. Dragon scales, remember?” he said tapping some of the harder scales on his back for emphasis.

Scootaloo was about to insist, but Spike had already grabbed a pillow and begun settling into the carpet. Left with no recourse Scootaloo crawled under Spike’s purple comforter. Like the cushion in the library and the warm, plentiful dinner, Scootaloo had a hard time imagining what it must be like to sleep in a bed like this every night, completely free of the worries that plagued her daily.

“Night, Scootaloo,” Spike yawned out from down below.

“Yeah, night, Spike.” Scootaloo echoed back softly.

Author's Note

I kinda hate the homeless Scootaloo trope. In a utopia there is no plausible way that Equestria doesn’t have some sort of foster care system. And since 99% of citizens of Equestria seem to be nice, the odds that everyone who decides to adopt a child is a heartless bastard is low. But when I decided to write a Twi Scootadopt I realized my two option were either cover similar ground I did in previous stories, or go this route. Furthermore her being homeless opens up some good avenues for Twilight getting involved.

So here's the start of this one. You all have no idea how rough of a shape this was in before Zimmerwald1915 got a hold of it. I've often said that I'm a far worse writer without the help of some great editors, and in this case it's doubly true. Zimmerwald took a seriously flawed first draft of the narrative and help shape what you just read.

Johnny Bench also helped with the editing.

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Many Feathers Make a Bed

Years of living on the street had trained Scootaloo to rise with the sun. Today, however, the sensation that woke her wasn’t her hooves tingling from frostnip, but the light tickling her eyes. She tried to turn away from it, but that only woke her up further, so she stretched and sat up against the headboard. A soft snore told her Spike was still sleeping and a quick glance down confirmed it. The clock on the wall told her it was too early to expect Spike to wake up and she didn't hear any sounds from elsewhere in the castle either. With nothing better to do, Scootaloo decided to read some of the comics she hadn’t gotten to last night. Not wanting to wake her friend, she carefully hopped down on the opposite side of the bed.

The windows were framed with a layer of frost that had built up overnight. Just seeing the icicles hanging from the branches outside the window made her shiver.

Spike kept his Power Ponies comics chronologically ordered, in a bookcase on the far wall. As Scootaloo crossed the room it hit her just how much Spike was, well, loved. There were pictures of him with his friends and momentoes from his travels mixed in with the useful things. He didn’t have a broken heater in his room, he didn’t have to scavenge junk on the faint hopes it would prove useful. Scootaloo forced down a pang of jealousy.

Scootaloo searched the shelves for the comic Spike recommended last night, until she found it laid out thoughtfully on the desk. Second Chances had Fili-Second violate her oath not to affect the timeline; going back in time to save her mother’s life. Only to return to a future where the Masked Matter-horn is evil, Radiance had been murdered, Saddle Rager never got her powers and Zapp is a cold blooded mercenary. She put things right in the end, of course. The Power Ponies always saved the day.

Closing the comic, Scootaloo couldn’t help but wonder if she would change the past if she could. Maybe there was a timeline where she was never dropped off at that orphanage, where her parents loved her, but it wasn’t this timeline.

The sound of Spike stirring broke her chain of thought. “And I thought I was an early riser,” he said, rubbing his eyes through a yawn.

Breakfast was oatmeal, and while this time Scootaloo was careful not to wolf hers down, she did eat as much as she could. To her great relief, the conversation was light, and Twilight didn’t ask any probing questions.

She also levitated a scarf and small knit cap over from a nearby closet when Scootaloo announced she was leaving. “I don’t want you to get cold walking home.”

Scootaloo took the clothes, but hesitated to put them on. “Thanks,” she said, “but aren’t you going to need these later?” Scootaloo did things she wasn’t always proud of sometimes, but stealing wasn’t one of them.

Twilight began putting on her own scarf and earmuffs. “That’s okay, you can just give them back when we get to your house.”

The answer stopped Scootaloo dead in her tracks. “What!”

Twilight tilted her head, and that puzzling look reappeared. “I thought Spike and I would walk you home.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have do that,” Scootaloo answered quickly.

“It’s no problem. Spike and I have a shopping trip scheduled this time every week.”

“Yeah Scoot, it’s no big deal,” Spike chimed in, securing his own green hat and scarf over his purple jacket.

“I’m not going home though. I thought I’d practice my scootering.”

“In this weather? Don't you want to at least grab a jacket?”

“My house isn’t really anywhere near the market,” Scootaloo tried.

Twilight chuckled. “Ponyville isn’t that big, it can’t be that far.”

Nerves frayed, Scootaloo threw both the hat and the scarf back at Twilight. “You don’t have to walk me home!” she shouted. Tension hung in the air. Even Spike was at a loss for words. Scootaloo fought to control her breathing. “I’m sorry,” she said, feverently hoping the whole thing could just end there.

Twilight levitated the scarf and the hat back off the ground and toward the trembling filly. “It’s OK, Scootaloo, we won’t walk you home. Just bring these back whenever you can.”

Scootaloo took the items from midair and put them on, looking anywhere but in Twilight’s eyes. “I’m sorry, really. Thanks for having me.”

“You’re always welcome here, Scootaloo,” Twilight said, her eyes drooping.

Scootaloo only nodded and hopped on her scooter, fleeing the library as fast as her wings would let her.

Twilight replayed the events since finding Scootaloo in the library over in her mind on the way to the market. She opted not to say anything until she was sure that there was something she must have missed. “Did Scootaloo seem odd to you last night?” she asked Spike halfway through picking the oranges.

Spike continued to fill his basket. “Nah, last night she was fine.”

“That kind of reaction isn’t normal, Spike.”

Spike nodded. “Maybe she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“I don't know. I think something might be really wrong.”

Spike tossed the orange he was holding back on the pile and set his basket down. Usually when Twilight said something like that, it meant that serious trouble was afoot. “Is your flank glowing? Did the map light up?”

“No, it’s just a feeling I have.”

Spike breathed a small sigh of relief. “I don’t know, Twilight. Poking around in ponies’ lives is the kind of thing that gets you in trouble.”

It made her grimace to admit it, but her assistant wasn’t wrong. Twilight could list off several instances where her meddling had made a manageable situation worse. “Keep an eye on her for me then? I’d hate to think that there’s a pony who needs my help and I ignored the signs.”

“Sure thing, Twi.”

The hat and scarf Twilight leant her were preposterously soft and warm. Of course they were. Princess Twilight probably didn't think twice about having Yakyakistani wool scarfs to loan out, Scootaloo mused caustically.

The warmth and fullness from breakfast quickly wore off and once again Scootaloo was forced to consider how she would make it through another night. None of her usual jobs had panned out yesterday, but perseverance had always paid off for her in the past.

Sturdy Craft was perched in his usual spot, behind the counter of his hardware store, a ball of hay wedged in his right cheek. “Hiya ‘Loo,” he said with his unmistakably thick Dodge Junction drawl.

“Hiya Mr. Craft. Need any help today?”

“I might. Got some boxes in, could use some help unloading them. Should take a couple-a hours. Eight bits for your trouble sound fair?”

Scootaloo quickly considered the offer. Eight bits was a fair price, but not enough to fix her heater. “How about six bits and you let me borrow a soldering iron?”

The counter offer prompted a low chuckle.“Now what’s a li’l filly like you need soldering iron fer?”

Simple lies work best. “Thought I might go for an engineering cutie mark. Won't know unless I try right?”

Another chuckle. “Well when you put it that way, how ‘bout eight, I let you borrow the iron, and you invite me to your cuteceñera.”

Scootaloo grinned. “Deal!”

The work took just over two hours, and left Scootaloo’s coat sweaty and caked with dust. But as she set the last of the boxes of nails on the shelf, pride swelled up inside her. She had earned more bits for her coin purse, more goodwill from Mr. Craft and a chance to not be so cold tonight. I don’t need anypony’s help, she thought triumphantly.

As he always did, Sturdy counted out his payment two bits at a time, pushing each pair across the counter. Out of habit, Scootaloo counted out the bits along with him, and when he was done, pushed two back. “You gave me ten.”

Sturdy pushed the bits back with a smile. “Yep, sure did. Call it a bonus.”

“Wow, really?” Sturdy nodded. “Thanks again, Mr. Craft!”

Scootaloo hurried back to her cellar, eager to try and fix her heater. She unscrewed the back to find a section of burnt copper wire fused over a jagged-looking crack. The book she had borrowed didn’t have specific instructions, but it did have a diagram of a heater that looked close enough. If she was reading it right, she would need to remove the wire, replace it, and solder the crack closed so the wire wouldn’t fuse again. Replacing the wire was easy, she had some more in her scrap box. Soldering it in place and repairing the crack was harder. She burned her hoof twice on the iron.

But when she finally screwed the back piece back on, plugged the heater in, and felt it start to warm the air in front of her, Scootaloo couldn’t help but jump for joy. “Ha!” she said out loud with a celebratory hoof pump, before quickly covering her mouth. Quills and Sofas may have been closed on Sundays but it wouldn’t do her any good if somepony heard her down in the cellar.

Scootaloo’s jubilant mood was temporarily dimmed by a dull hunger pain. She was flush with cash, for her anyway, and she considered treating herself to a real meal. A vision of a hot sandwich with fries and a glass of ice lemonade danced in her head. Scootaloo sighed, took four coins out of her purse and dropped them in the small jar that served as her rainy day fund. She had eight, now twelve, bits that she resolved only to use in the most dire of circumstances. It had taken a few hard learned lessons for her to not let her present happiness impact her always uncertain future.

So instead of scooting towards Bon Appetite, she fastened her helmet and sped off toward Ponyville’s restaurant row in search of a less satisfying but cheaper option. Olive’s Garden usually let her wash dishes when one of their employees called out, but as luck would have it they had a full staff. The dumpster behind Honey’s Bake Shop was bereft and Cheesy Grits was closed for a family gathering. So much for saving some more bits. Not wanting to spend the night hungry, Scootaloo bought herself a bowl of spaghetti, to go of course, and turned her scooter around back toward her cellar.

Author's Note

Bon Apetite is the name of the deli/bodega in my neighborhood that makes my favorite sandwich, if you were wondering. As usual I owe a thanks to my editors.

In other news:

I'm an admin for the Scootaloo group, (big surprise I know), and I'm soliciting Hall of Fame nominees. So if you know a Scootaloo story that deserves to be exalted among all others you can nominate it here. (Just make sure it's not already in the Hall of Fame)

Most authors love feedback.

Better is the Small Fire that Warms on the Little day of Peace

Until that moment, the phrase “world came crashing down” was merely a phrase for Scootaloo. She’d had a hard life, but never had everything crumble around her all at once. Even when she ran away, she had a destination and a plan. But with Twilight standing in the mouth of the cave, taking in the sight of her surrounded by her few meager possessions, Scootaloo felt it viscerally as her world came crashing down around her. She tried to put on a brave smile. “Twilight! I was just… looking for my scooter! I left it here but now I found it. Lucky me huh?”

The firm stare on Twilight’s face told Scootaloo exactly what she thought of the obvious lie. “Where are your parents?”

“They had to stay in Manehattan for a few more days.”

Looking more closely, Scootaloo could see Twilight was breathing hard, and her mane was frazzled by wind and sweat. Twilight put a hoof up to her chest and spoke in an exaggeratedly calm tone. “OK, what hotel are they staying at?”

“I don’t know.”

Twilight’s voice colored with the authority of a pony who was not used to being denied. “Scootaloo, I need to talk to them. Where are they?”

Scootaloo’s heart pounded, her brain on fire. The having to start over, the hurt hoof, the sleep deprivation, the lying constantly to everypony, it all crashed against her psyche. And then, like a seawall battered by too many waves, she crumbled. “I don’t know! I never know where they are because I don’t even know who they are! OK?” she screamed.

Twilight stood there, stunned. Ever since the impromptu sleepover she had been pondering possible reasons for Scootaloo’s behavior. At worst, she had figured, Scootaloo’s parents neglected her. More likely Scootaloo was just rambunctious and in need of a little discipline. She’d never entertained the idea that Scootaloo was forced to fend for herself. “You’re an orphan?

“I live in the cellar of Quills and Sofas,” Scootaloo said quietly. “Or at least I used to,” she added, confirming Twilight’s suspicions.

“How?” It was the only word Twilight found herself capable of saying.

Scootaloo shrugged. “No one ever goes in there. And no one cares about one little filly hanging around town.”

“But how do you get food and clothes and—”

“I get by,” Scootaloo said tersely.

“What about your friends?”

“They don’t know. And you can’t tell them!” Scootaloo snapped.

Seeing a chance to earn some much needed goodwill, Twilight agreed. “I won’t, but you need to come with me.”

Without warning, Scootaloo bolted, forsaking her scooter, weaving around Twilight in a bid for the cave mouth. Twilight was too quick for her, though. She formed a shimmering strawberry bubble around Scootaloo, and lifted her a few inches off the ground. “Help!” she screamed. It hurt Twilight to hear the fear in Scootaloo’s voice, but she couldn’t permit the situation she’d just learned about to continue. Unworked gray stone popped out of view as she teleported, presently replaced with one of the castle’s guest rooms. It wasn’t quite the familiar setting Spike’s room or the library would have made, but Twilight hoped it would be close enough to put Scootaloo at ease.

“Please try to calm down Scootaloo. I’m not going to hurt you.” she said.

Scootaloo flailed for a few more seconds, then went limp when she saw there was no way out of the levitation spell. She stared at the floor, her lips clamped stubbornly shut.

“I’m going to let you go now, OK?” Twilight said, hoping to convince with the sincere compassion in her tone as much as with her words. Scootaloo nodded but didn’t make eye contact. Twilight gently set Scootaloo down on the floor. A moment later the bubble melted away. Scootaloo ran for the window, and again Twilight had to catch her in a spell. The room was forty feet up, and she’d never seen Scootaloo fly. “Scootaloo, please,” she pleaded.

She freed Scootaloo again, and again the filly ran, this time toward the door. Twilight held it shut with her magic, letting Scootaloo beat on it until she was exhausted. Finally she gave up and glared at Twilight, breathing heavily through her clenched teeth.

“I just want to talk, Scootaloo.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you! You foalnapped me!”

Twilight winced, because Scootaloo was right, both technically and colloquially. Her only excuse was that if nopony else would take responsibility for Scootaloo’s welfare, then it fell to her. Only she knew what was going on, and as a princess it was her job to fix it. How could any princess, any caring pony, not try and help a foal who needed it? “Are you OK? Just put everything on hold for a moment. I need to know if you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

Twilight noted that she shied away from her left hoof when she said it, but she knew wouldn’t get anywhere until Scootaloo’s temper abated. She switched tactics. “Good. Can you wait here for a few minutes? I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Scootaloo nodded, her expression unchanged, and Twilight slowly backed out of the room.

Twilight leaving her alone was exactly the opportunity Scootaloo was looking for. She waited until she was sure Twilight was a safe distance away, then darted back to the door. As she reached for the handle, however, her hoof was deflected by a flash of magenta light. Of course Twilight put a forcefield around the door.

Undeterred, Scootaloo moved back the window, but though the glass opened—inwards—her exit was blocked by another pink pane. With an angry shout, Scootaloo pounded her hoof against the magical barrier, but it remained indifferent to her efforts. Like in the cave she slumped to the floor, unable to think of any way to salvage the situation.

Ten minutes later, Twilight returned.

Scootaloo punched the ground, determined to show Twilight just how angry she was. “You locked me in here!”

Remorse flashed across Twilight’s face and Scootaloo almost felt guilty. “I’m sorry, Scootaloo. I couldn’t trust you not to run away.”

Scootaloo just glared at her.

“I brought you some daisies and an apple if you’re hungry. There’s also a cupcake if you’d like,” Twilight said, levitating a silver platter of food over to her.

But Scootaloo refused to be placated. “What are you doing Twilight? Can’t you just let me go?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not until you talk to me,” Twilight said, sitting down.

Scootaloo crossed her forelegs and turned her back. “I don’t want to talk,” she said. Hers was a stubbornness born of desperation. She couldn’t tell Twilight more than she already had, she couldn’t come up with a believable lie, and she hadn’t found a way to escape; that left stonewalling as her only viable option.

“It’s late,” Twilight said, as though Scootaloo’s silence was just a byproduct of the time. “There’s a shower and a nice comfy bed,” she said, then levitated a stack of books over to the room’s nightstand. “When I can’t sleep I like to read. I brought you some Daring Do and some really cool science books, and I don’t think Spike would mind if you looked at his comics.”

Scootaloo remained silent and Twilight continued. “There’s a crossword and a maze book if you don’t feel like reading. I also bought you some blank paper if you want to draw or just write down your feelings.”

“Let me go, Twilight!”

Twilight sighed. “We’ll try again in the morning.”

Author's Note

Huge thanks to Zimmerwald1915 for his help smoothing out a particularly difficult chapter.

Sorry not sorry about that last cliffhanger, or this one.

For anyone wondering, yes I know electric heaters can't produce carbon monoxide. Originally the heater started a fire, but that wasn't working for me as an author. I just needed a way to get Twilight to the basement and Scootaloo to flee. Also since we don't know about the atmosphere or the metallurgy of Equestria maybe electric heaters do produce CO. Also magic...

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Than a Great One to Burn You

The discovery that a filly Twilight knew, whom she had spent time with, was living on her own, presented a problem. And there was only one proper response to problems; research.

Alone with her thoughts, Twilight felt the oppressive weight of the day’s events. Her eyelids started to droop and visions of a nice soft pillow danced in her head. The sensible thing to do would be to get some sleep and tackle her new task in the morning.

But she was working on a clock. The longer she forcibly confined Scootaloo to the guest room, the less she was able to rationalize it. Faced with that kind of pressure, Twilight shut her eyes and flared her horn.

Sleep was a regenerative process. No spell could adequately replace the effects of a good night’s rest, and no magic could overcome the body’s need for it. But there were spells that could temporarily alleviate her tiredness. Twilight turned her focus inward, feeling her neurons firing as she prepared one of the more potent ones.

Casting spells on yourself was dangerous, and mental manipulation only increased that risk. Cast too often, the Red Eye spell could lead to paranoia and even brain damage.

Even if it worked perfectly, she was still circumventing her own body’s pain threshold in order to push past her limits—limits that existed for a reason. Before she went ahead, she reminded herself that the spell was a Grogarian bargain and the bill would come due. A thought later and she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but not too satisfied about it.

She spent the night poring through counseling texts and familiarizing herself with Equestria’s foal protection laws and procedures. Come morning, she had amassed a working knowledge of foster care, as well as a rudimentary understanding of commonly-accepted theories of orphan psychology.

With Twilight gone, Scootaloo found herself trapped in a very comfortable cage. She stared at the tray of food, the apple plump and the cupcake practically glistening. Part of her wanted to hold onto her stubbornness and throw Twilight’s food away. A different, hungrier part of her relished the thought of her first cupcake in weeks. Hunger won. I still don’t owe her anything; she locked me in here!

Having accepted the food, she had no rationalization for refusing the shower and the bed. Besides, Scootaloo had grown used to taking advantage of opportunities where she could find them. She availed herself of the chance to scrub the dirt out of her hooves and wash her mane. As the hot water cascaded down she took another look at her burnt hoof. It didn’t look any better, but Scootaloo still had more important things to worry about.

The sun’s first light peaked through the windows and Spike recognized his cue to get up. To his surprise, instead of the normal quiet of the early morning, he found Twilight wide awake and apparently knee deep in another research project. “Morning, Twi.” Spike took another look around, noticing the piles of books and the stack of paper to Twilight’s right. “Were you up all night?”

Twilight opened her mouth but quickly closed it. “Yeah. Something came up,” she said, corralling a small stack of books and pulling them toward her, away from Spike’s gaze.

The vague but urgent phrase and furtive gesture set off Spike’s internal alarms. He peered closely at Twilight. “You look good,” he said tersely.

“Spike—”

“You promised you wouldn’t do this kind of thing anymore Twilight!”

After all they’d been through since she hatched him, Spike could read Twilight like an open book, just like she could read him. He knew that something was wrong, and he knew that she knew that he knew—probably from the look of trepidation on his face that he wasn’t even bothering to control—so he wasn’t surprised when she tried to reassure him.“Spike, I’m fine.”

Spike refused to be placated. His voice grew hard. “It’s dangerous, Twilight. You taught me that! Just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you are. That’s the whole point of the spell!”

“Scootaloo needs my help. I needed a clear head.”

The statement put Spike’s righteous indignation on hold. “Wait, Scootaloo is in trouble? What’s wrong?”

Twilight stuttered and looked down at her notes. “I promised her I wouldn’t say anything. She’s determined to deal with her problems alone.”

Now Spike was dealing with two friends who needed his help, he put his concern for Twilight aside. “Do you know where she is now? Is she OK?”

“She’s fine. She’s in the guest room on the first floor.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“I don’t know Spike, I know you two are friends, but—”

“This isn’t about being friends Twilight.” Spike took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I was eight years old before I even met another dragon, and when I did they weren’t exactly the kind of creatures I wanted to get to know better. I know a little bit about what it’s like to feel alone.”

Twilight recoiled, and Spike could see the hurt flash across Twilight’s face. “How come you never said anything?” she said, breathless.

A pang of guilt stabbed at him and he quickly set about explaining his comment.“Because you do a great job of making me feel wanted, all of you do. It’s not your fault you’re not a dragon. I didn’t mean that I’m lonely, I just think maybe I know a little bit about how Scootaloo is feeling.”

Spike saw Twilight’s relief and he too breathed easier. “Well I certainly can’t get through to her, so maybe you should give it a try.” Twilight levitated a blue amulet from her desk over to Spike.

The young dragon plucked the amulet out of the air with a quick wave of his claw and fastened its gold chain around his neck. “What’s this for?”

“You’ll need it to get past the shield I put around her room.”

“You locked her in the guest room?”

Twilighted nodded, “I needed to be sure she wouldn’t run away.”

“Talk about starting off on the wrong hoof,” Spike muttered as he turned toward the staircase. “And don’t think we’re finished either.”

Author's Note

Sorry about the wait. Huge thanks to Zimmerwald for his work refining my prose.

Most authors love feedback.

Trust the Sun for Warming

Spike paused at the entrance to the guest room, feeling the gentle hum of Twilight’s forcefield. He reached out with a claw and the amulet around his neck began to glow. The purple field receded, just enough to let him pass. He knocked, but hearing no answer, withdrew and turned around. If he was honest with himself, he had no clue what he would say to Scootaloo. He didn’t know what she was going through and as much as he hated to admit it he had never been very good at solving problems. Most of the time I just make things worse. But Scootaloo was his friend, and while wasn’t a certified friendship expert like Twilight, a lot of her knowledge had rubbed off on him. After all, he had helped Twilight and her friends a bunch of times. There was that time he saved Rarity from that evil spell book, not to mention the time he saved the Crystal Heart. If I can do all that, maybe I can help Scootaloo. He steeled himself and pushed the door open.

Scootaloo was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. She turned to look at him and immediately slumped her shoulders. “I guess this is it,” she said.

“What are you talking about, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo squinted and Spike felt her studying him. It was unnerving. “You’re here, which means Twilight told you everything. So what’s the deal? Did you come to say goodbye? Or you just want to find out why I’ve been lying to you?”

“Twilight didn’t tell me anything. She just told me my friend was in trouble and that she apparently didn’t want any help.”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened slightly and her voice grew a shade more hopeful. “She really didn’t tell you?”

“No. She said she promised you she wouldn’t.”

For a moment, Spike could see relief wash over his friend, but it swiftly gave way to melancholy again. “I’m an orphan. There’s no helping that,” Scootaloo said softly.

All of the sudden the events of the last few days made sense, and past curiosities that Spike had written off as “Scootaloo just being Scootaloo” became clear: why Scootaloo never invited people to her house, why he had never met her parents, why she scarfed her food down and sometimes took other ponies’ leftovers home. “Scootaloo—”

“You can’t help me Spike.” The interruption was as quick as it was brutal

The response came as a surprise but not because he disagreed with the sentiment. “Well yeah, but Twilight can. She’s a princess,” Spike said. “There has to be something she can do.”

“There isn’t.”

Spike opened his mouth but no words came out. Maybe Scootaloo was right. It wasn’t like Twilight could magically conjure up a set of parents. He looked at his friend sitting on the edge of the bed and noticed an ugly red mark on her hoof. He may not have had any way to soothe Scootaloo’s psychic anguish, but he did have years of experience patching Twilight up after her experiments backfired. “That looks pretty bad,” he said pointing to the burn.

“It’s no big deal.”

“I could look at it if you want. I’m pretty handy with a first aid kit.” Scootaloo shrugged, and Spike hustled into the bathroom. He returned with a red box marked with a white cross.

“There’s a first aid kit in there?” Scootaloo asked, momentarily distracted.

“Yep, there’s one under every sink, checked monthly as part of our safety inspection,” Spike said cheerfully. Spike sat down on the bed and gingerly took Scootaloo’s hoof. She recoiled slightly but not enough to slip free. Spike caught her eye and saw trepidation—an expression he’d never expected from his friend. But then, she’d never trusted him with something this big before. He worked quickly, washing the burn with powder soap and bottled saline first, being careful not to break the skin. It was ugly and infected, but not too badly just yet. Some antibiotic cream and a fresh bandage later and Spike pronounced the hoof as “good as new.”

Scootaloo flexed a few times. “Thank you Spike.” She looked him in the face again. “Tell her to let me go. Maybe she’ll listen to you,” she pleaded.

Despite her eyes begging him to just say yes, Spike considered her request before answering. He didn’t really know what Scootaloo was running from and the idea of letting her go so that she could be alone in the world again was not appealing. “I could ask, but I think you should give her a chance, Scootaloo. You may not realize it but she’s trying really hard.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Yeah I’m sure it takes a lot for her to give me a cupcake and then cast a couple spells preventing me from leaving this stupid room.”

Spike shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. She was up all night reading stuff.”

“She does that anyway,” Scootaloo shot back.

Spike shook his head again. “Not like this she doesn’t.”

“What are you talking about, Spike?”

“When Twilight was studying sleep spells, she also discovered a few spells that help ponies stay awake.”

“If she was studying sleep spells why was she reading about wake-up ones?”

Spike shrugged. “I dunno, that’s just how her mind works. She studied fire and ice magic at the same time too.”

“OK, fine, so she cast some spell to help her stay up. I still don’t see what the big deal is.”

Spike sighed, and let his worry show on his face. “It’s dangerous, more than you think it is.” It was as close as Spike was willing to come to openly berating his troubled friend. “Twilight knows that, and she did it anyway because she’s trying to help you.”

Finally, Spike sensed Scootaloo’s stubbornness soften. “How is it dangerous?”

Spike paused again to make sure he got his explanation right. He snapped his claws as he hit upon an appropriate metaphor. “You ever run around so much that you’re sore the next day?”

Scootaloo flashed back to a few weeks ago. On a rare day off she had spent hours scootering around the park with Rainbow Dash; the next day she could barely flutter her wings. “Yeah.”

“Well imagine there was a spell that could make you feel better, except you wouldn’t actually be better, you just wouldn’t feel sore.”

“That sounds great.”

“Sure it sounds great, but it’s not. If you felt fine you might go run around all day again, and if you did that while you were still sore you might seriously hurt something. We get tired for a reason. Do you understand what I’m saying?

“I think so.”

“Well that’s kinda like what Twilight did. She’ll probably be OK, but she still risked hurting herself to help you.”

For a moment Scootaloo looked angry. Spike worried that he had stumbled across some sort of emotional tripwire. “I didn’t ask her to do that Spike,” she said, with an edge to her voice that Spike wished wasn’t there.

“I know, but maybe you could give her a chance anyway?” Spike thought about all the times he had accompanied the Crusaders on his adventures. “For me,” he added.

There was a long uncomfortable silence as Spike held his breath waiting for the answer. “I’ll talk to her Spike, because you asked me to. But I’m not promising anything.”

“Can I tell her you’re going to talk to her now, or do you want to wait?”

“You can send her in now, I guess.”

Author's Note

This came up in the comments section of the last chapter, (and less explicitly in the comments of other chapters) so I'll address it here. The chapters are short. I know that. They're short because this is a fairly slow paced fic,there's a lot of slow burn here.

Also because I'm trying to move at a reasonably fast clip, publishing wise. It's easier to write short bits and publish then make you all wait for longer chapters.

So there are going to be chapters where not a lot happens to move the plot along, I hope that the character development or at least insight makes up for that. I do get how that can be unsatisfying as a reader, but I'm also not willing to change it. I don't want to write longer chapters, or combine them and I don't want to change the pacing of this fic. (It's slow paced in part because I'm still feeling it out as a writer, my process may not be perfect but it's mine.)

So that's where I am on that. I still love feedback, but if you're going to tell me that you want longer chapters then I'm afraid I can't help you.

A Full Cabin is Better than an Empty Castle

Twilight gently pushed the door to the guest room open. “Hello Scootaloo. Spike said you were ready to talk?”

Scootaloo hadn’t moved from her spot on the edge of the bed, facing the far wall. She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t turn around. “I only said that ‘cause he’s always been nice to me. I know you’re just going to send me away.”

“Maybe I don’t have to.” Scootaloo didn’t say anything, but a spark of interest flashed across her face. Twilight continued her pitch. “I want to help you, and maybe that means you staying in Ponyville, but the only way I’ll know is if you talk to me.”

Scootaloo turned around and looked up with glistening eyes. “If I answer your questions you won’t send me back to Manehattan?”.

Because she didn’t know exactly what Scootaloo meant, Twilight shook her head. “I can’t promise that, but if you don’t tell me whats going on I will have to call Foal Services.”

Scootaloo scowled, the stubborn, go-it-alone determination returning with a vengeance. “I don’t have to tell you anything, you can’t keep me here!”

Twilight sighed inwardly. Scootaloo was right; keeping her confined was not a sustainable solution. “I just want to help.”

“That’s what Spike said, but you can’t help me!”

Twilight took a deep breath. “Scootaloo, I’ve traveled all over Equestria helping ponies. Most of them think their situations are hopeless too. But I’ve found that if ponies talk things out and think about their problems, there’s always a solution.”

“This isn’t a friendship problem,” Scootaloo fired back.

“You’re right, it’s not.” Agreeing with ponies was always a good way to calm them down. “Can we please try my way anyway?” Scootaloo nodded skeptically, but a nod was a nod. Twilight moved on to the next item on her agenda. “How long have you lived in Ponyville?”

“A couple years.”

“A couple—” Twilight swallowed her shock. Hysterics were guaranteed to bring more emotion to a situation that already had too much. “Where did you live before that?”

“Manehattan.”

“Where in Manehattan?”

“The orphanage.”

If Twilight could find out any details about Scootaloo’s family, maybe she could find some relatives willing to take her. The one- and two-word answers were frustrating, but Twilight pressed on. “Scootaloo, I know this isn’t easy, but I need you to talk to me. Do you remember where you lived before that?”

“No, I don’t remember living anywhere before that.” Annoyance was beginning to creep into Scootaloo’s voice. Twilight chose to ignore it.

“OK, why you’d leave the orphanage in Manehattan?”

“I didn’t like it there. There were too many rules. Make your bed, go to bed at nine, eat your vegetables. And if you didn’t you’d get an ‘X’ next to your name and if you got too many ‘X’s you wouldn’t get to play during playtime.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Maybe for you,” Scootaloo said with a snort.

Twilight wasn’t looking for an argument about the merits of progressive discipline in childcare, she moved on. “So you just ran away?”

“Kinda. One day they told me that I was moving to an older foals’ home in Trotson. So when they took me to the train station I snuck off and got on the train to Ponyville instead.”

Questions came pouring out despite Twilight’s best efforts to remain calm. “I can’t belive no one ever found you! How did you get enrolled in school? What about Family Appreciation Day?”

“I don’t know, Twilight. I just showed up at school and I fake my parents’ signatures on things. It’s worked so far.” There was a pause as Twilight considered which of her many questions to ask next. Scootaloo beat her to the punch. “So now what?”

Twilight made a mental note to talk to Cheerilee about Scootaloo’s records as well as look into the state of Equestria's orphanges. “What do you mean?”

“Are you going to keep me here forever? Because I’m not going back to that orphanage, or any other one.” Scootaloo didn’t yell, but underneath the statement was an unmistakeable challenge.

“I’m not going to make you to stay here Scootaloo. I’m sorry I used a force field in the first place, I really am. But I can’t let you stay homeless.”

“Why not? I was doing fine!” Scootaloo shouted indignantly

In her study of conflict resolution, Twilight had learned was to avoid accusations, so she didn’t disagree but rather she turned the focus on herself. “It’d be irresponsible of me. I wouldn’t be much of a princess if I did. But I also wouldn’t be a very good princess, or a good friend, if I just shipped you off to a strange city. So do you want to stay in Ponyville?”

For the first time Twilight detected a note of hope in the young filly’s voice. “Yeah, I mean my friends are here. But I don’t want anyone to know I’m homeless. Especially not Rainbow Dash!”

Finally Scootaloo issued a demand Twilight could agree to. “Rainbow is away for the month for Wonderbolts training, that won’t be a problem. And I’m hoping by the time she gets back we’ll have this all worked out. I’m going to take the forcefield down now. If you want to run away I won’t stop you, but I will write to Foal Services.”

“So I either do what you say or you’ll report me?” It wasn’t so much a question as an accusation.

“You can either accept my help or not, but I can’t pretend I don’t know what’s going on. For what it’s worth, I think you’re a lot better off with me.” Twilight flared her horn and a purple light flashed around the room. Scootaloo immediately ran to the door and pushed it open. A look of surprise registered on her face as her hoof made contact with the wood. She stepped just beyond the doorframe and turned to look at Twilight, who made no effort to move. “If you want to leave, you can,” Twilight said.

Scootaloo took another step forward and Twilight still didn’t move. Scootaloo turned around and walked back into the bedroom. “I’ll stay. For now,” she quickly added.

Twilight returned downstairs to find Spike making enough pancakes to feed a small crowd. “I don’t know what to do Spike,” she moaned.

Spike flipped a pancake, without a spatula, and turned the flame off before setting down the pan. “About Scootaloo? Is she going to let you help her?”

Twilight sighed and poured herself a glass of juice. “There isn’t any foster care in Ponyville, it’s too small a town for that. I could ask if anypony would be willing to take care of her, but she seems adamant about taking care of herself.”

“Maybe she could stay here?”

“She can’t stay here, Spike.”

“Why not? We have the space.” Spike transferred his mound of pancakes to a serving plate.

“It’s not about that. She needs a family, ponies who can take care of her. I’m not ready to be a mother.”

“She’s not a baby, Twilight. She’s done a pretty okay job taking care of herself.”

“She sleeps in an abandoned basement!”

“Yeah and she’s doing pretty well. Neither of us would’ve guessed she was homeless. Imagine how great she could be if she had a warm bed and dinner every night. We could give her that.”

“We’re not talking about looking after her for a weekend, Spike.” Twilight sighed. “Besides she doesn’t seem to want anything to do with me right now.”

“She talked to you, that seems like a start.”

Twilight smiled, but her brow remained furrowed. “I guess it is.”

Author's Note

If this story has acts, (and it kinda doesn't) then this is the end of Act I. I owe my usual thanks to Zimmerwald1915 for his editing and general prose tightening.

Most authors love feedback.

Reckless Courage

Scootaloo didn’t say much during breakfast, aside from complimenting Spike on his cooking. Twilight opted to let her eat, filling the silence by checking up on how Spike was managing the library. Ever since Twilight had moved into the crystal castle and assumed her duties as princess, Spike had increasingly taken over the role of librarian. He hadn’t given her any reason to worry, but she couldn’t quite let go of that part of her old life.

“Are you ready for inventory Spike?” Twilight asked between sips of coffee.

Spike rolled his eyes just a little bit at the well-worn question. “Yes and I’ve got next month’s book fair order ready to go as soon as we decide on a theme.”

“Just checking Spike. I’m still head librarian,” she chided him—gently, she thought, but his extra-big bite of pancake told her he was done talking for now. So Twilight turned to the only other pony at the table, doing her best to say something as innocuous as possible. “How about you, Scootaloo? Any plans for today?”

Scootaloo looked up from her eggs—she had finished her own pancakes—and from the look on her face Twilight knew she’d put another hoof wrong. “I’m going out,” she said quietly.

“OK,” Twilight retreated.

But rather than defuse the situation, her words made Scootaloo’s head snap up as though she had been poked. “Just like that? You’re not going to remind me that if I don’t come back you’re going to call the Guard on me?”

“Sounds like I don’t have to.” Twilight smiled with what she hoped came across as good humor and unflappable serenity, though she wasn’t feeling much of either at the moment. “You’ve been coming and going as you please for the past three years, it’d be pretty presumptuous of me to tell you what you should do all day.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before,” Spike coughed.

Twilight shot him a not now frown and Spike again busied himself with his breakfast. “As I was saying, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, as long as you’re safe and haven’t gone back to living out on the streets again,” Twilight sighed. “Even if I could, I still wouldn’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You’re a princess, you can do whatever you want.”

Twilight didn’t answer immediately. She still hadn’t fully worked out how she was going to put last night’s findings to use; how could she explain them to Scootaloo in a way she’d understand? “It just doesn’t work that way,” she said finally, disappointed in how flat the words fell.

There were still a couple forkfuls of eggs on the plate, but Scootaloo leapt from her chair. “Thanks for breakfast, Spike,” she said, approaching the dining room doorway. “Like I said, I’m going out. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Spike and I will be here if you need anything,” Twilight called after her.

From around the corner, Twilight heard the front doors creak open and, a few moments later, click shut. She sighed again, levitating Scootaloo’s plate and utensils into the air towards the kitchen.

“Doesn’t sound like she’s warming up to the whole thing, does she?” Spike said, trotting behind Twilight with his own plate in tow.

“Unfortunately no. I think she still resents me for hovering,” she added, by way of easing into an apology.

Spike beat her to it, though. “She’ll see your heart’s in the right place. I got used to it, didn’t I?” he said with a wave of his free claw. “I had hoped that pancakes would help, though.”

“Good as they are, Spike, I don’t think they’ll be enough to earn her trust.” A quick nuzzle and a horn flick later, and the dishes were soaking in the sink.

Spike nodded, looking slightly hurt at the notion that his baking wasn’t as revolutionary as he’d have liked. “So, what are you going to do, Twilight? You said yourself we can’t just keep her here.”

“I might have an idea.”

Breakfast might not have gone as well as she hoped, but Twilight was still miles ahead of where she started. And with Scootaloo out on her personal business and Spike managing the library, Twilight had all the time she needed to put the lessons of her all-nighter to use. Theoretically, Ponyville’s foal services office was a part of the municipal services. Twilight’s research had turned up layers and layers of bureaucracy, and she’d spent many hours working out how to navigate it before happening upon the agency’s budget. It turned out there wasn’t one; not a single bit or staffpony dedicated to the paper entity.

Putting aside the issue of how to feel about her findings—whether relief that Ponyville had never needed this contingency before or frustration that it had been allowed to languish—they presented an obstacle and an opportunity. On the one hoof, there was nopony Twilight could turn to for help. On the other, this wasn’t the first time she had been called upon to organize a part of the town government, and she knew just what kind of letter to write.

Dear Mayor Mare,

As of January 21st, 1007 CE and pursuant to the Clear Need clause of the Ponyville town charter, section 3, subsection 5, I, Princess Twilight Sparkle, have assumed temporary reserve authority over Ponyville’s Foal Services Office until such time as a Director of Foal Services is appointed and provided with a salary and staff commensurate with her duties.

Faithfully yours,
Twilight Sparkle

It was terse but then again it didn’t need to be eloquent. With her authority now documented she drafted a request to Manehattan’s Foal Services office for Scootaloo’s records and officially designated Scootaloo a ward of the state under the care of Ponyville Foal Services, which of course consisted solely of herself.

Now she could begin dealing with the problem.

For the first time since she arrived in Ponyville, Scootaloo was unsure what to do. The past three years had been an exercise in day to day survival. Wake up, find food, fortify shelter, earn bits for emergencies. But now, at least temporarily, food and shelter were taken care of. That left her a rare opportunity to focus on saving up for a rainy day. Since the hardware store was as close as she had to a sure thing, that was her first stop.

The bell tied to the doorframe rang as Scootaloo walked through the door.

Sturdy was perched in his usual spot, behind the counter with his usual ball of hay wedged in his right cheek. But where he usually offered Scootaloo a smile this time he narrowed his eyes. “‘Loo?”

Unsettled though she was, Scootaloo put on her best happy smile. “Hi Mr. Craft, got anything for me to do today?”

The elder stallion cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, not reciprocating the grin. “Out with it, what’s eatin’ ya?

It took Scootaloo all of her willpower to maintain up her facade.“Nothing. What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“I may not be as spry as I used ta be, kid, but I’m still plenty sharp. You got a day off from school, it ain’t that cold out, and you want to spend it in a hardware shop instead of with your friends? Something’s gnawing at ya.”

“Maybe I don’t have any friends,” Scootaloo shot back.

Sturdy smiled a wry grin. “Spunky little filly like you? You got friends.”

“I do,” Scootaloo admitted.

The shop owner shrugged. “Royal Guard lookin for ya?”

Scootaloo practically jumped in shock.“What? No!”

The reaction prompted a low chuckle, that vanished with the next question.“Your parents know where you are?”

“Yeah.” As usual that wasn’t a strictly true statement, but it was true in spirit.

“Well then if you want to hide from the world here, you’re welcome to. But can I offer you some advice from an old stallion?”

“Sure.”

“Whatever you’re runnin’ from, it’s gonna catch up to you, it always does.”

Scootaloo hesitated for just a moment, almost imperceptibly. “What makes you think that I’m running from something?”

Her response earned her yet another low chuckle. “This conversation is starting to sound familiar. Next you’ll be telling me that you might not have friends.”

Scootaloo didn’t say anything. To her surprise, Sturdy chuckled his familiar, amused low chuckle once more.

“Just some food for thought, from an old pony who’s been around is all. What’s your business is your business.”

Normally, Scootaloo would have felt immense relief at keeping her secret safe. In the wake of Twilight’s discovery, however, this particular victory felt rather hollow.

“And speaking of business,” Sturdy continued, “I do actually have somethin’ for you to do.”

At the chance to both earn some extra bits, and to talk on any other subject besides the current one, Scootaloo’s “yes?” came out much more eagerly than she meant it to.

“Whole bunch of ponies came in to stock up on things to seal up their homes in the wake of this cold spell. Nails, planks, caulk, anythin’ to get rid of a pesky draft.”

Scootaloo nodded her head.

“Ponies browse for things, ponies find things, then ponies find things they like better, but ponies don’t always put the old things back where they should be.”

“Oh… got it.” Re-organizing misplaced merchandise was a time-consuming and tedious task, and Mr. Craft knew it. As such, he generally paid his employees well for it. Scootaloo began to trot off to the first aisle, labeled “Measurements/Levels” by a hanging sign.

“Smart filly, that one,” Sturdy mumbled to himself with a grin. “Oh, speaking of— Scootaloo!”

“Yeah?”

“How did everything work out with that soldering iron?”

Scootaloo could have laughed, simple question being absurd when she thought about it . Instead she angled herself to the right. “Still no cutie mark.”

“Oh… ” Sturdy’s grin faltered. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed, turning back to the aisle. “Me too.”

Author's Note

My friend is back! HMXTalyorLee helped me hammer this out. Big ups to him. And the usual big ups to Zimmerwald1915 for his work making sure everything was polished.

I recently read a great book called To the End of June about the foster care system. And even if you think it's a byzantine maze of bureaucracy, heartache and frustration, you likely have no idea.

So with Twilight now head of foal services does that mean you can expect To The End of June: MLP. No. For one that would involve a lot of exposition dumps about government and institutional history, which would be boring to both write and read. But if you're interested in learning more about the real foster care system, you should check it out.

Sorry about the wait.

Measured Fear

Ever since she’d arrived in Ponyville, first as Princess Celestia’s student and point mare, then as princess in her own right, Twilight had enjoyed a good relationship with the town’s government. Part of what kept that relationship from devolving into jurisdictional chest thumping was Twilight’s deference to Mayor Mare’s authority. She was happy to help with special events like Winter Wrap-Up, but no matter how much she might have enjoyed scheduling trash pickups or itemizing expense reports, Twilight’s role wasn’t to help run the town. It was just as well; she didn’t want to would put some useful pony out of a job or distract herself from spreading friendship. After finishing her correspondence to Manehattan, this train of thought led Twilight to regret the brusqueness of her letter to the Mayor, and to schedule a courtesy meeting.

Town Hall closed at five o’clock, but being a princess meant Mayor Mare would keep it open for Twilight, and she wouldn’t be taking anypony else’s appointment. Still, after a full day, she would be eager to get home, and Twilight didn’t begrudge her getting straight to business. “I understand you’ve taken over our Foal Services office.” Her words weren’t hostile, but there was an underlying note of concern to them.

Twilight’s eyes went wide and ingenuous. Was Mayor Mare worried over the rest of her bailiwick? Was that really foremost on her mind right now? “I was doing some research and I… well I noticed that the Foal Service office had no dedicated staffers or even a budget.”

“It hasn’t needed one. We haven’t had a case of a child needing foster care in years,” the mayor said, flexing her shoulders ever so slightly.

Aside from its being demonstrably untrue, Twilight found that answer incomplete and unhelpful. “But what about parents looking to foster or adopt? Surely there are ponies in Ponyville who need an advocate.”

“There are,” the Mayor hedged, probably for the sake of their privacy. “But when they do, we direct them to Canterlot’s Foal Services office. It has a dedicated staff and more resources.”

“What about foals in Ponyville who might need foster care in the future?” Incredulity was beginning to crack Twilight’s voice.

“Twilight, it’s a small town. It doesn’t make sense for me to spend our limited resources on an office we can outsource to a larger city.”

Twilight could have sworn the the Mayor was talking down to her, but loathe as she was to admit it, she couldn’t exactly argue with the Mayor’s point. Eliminating an agency that could be outsourced to Canterlot made fiscal sense, even if it was morally suspect. “Are any records kept at all?”

“I think we’ve had a few cases in the last ten years. You’d have to check the archives.”

Normally, Twilight was never quite as happy as she was when she was poring through old records, trying to glean new insights. But whether by design or happenstance, Scootaloo had picked the perfect place to not generate a record! Ponyville was too small and out of the way for its little hospital or police force to receive a dedicated alert. Digging through an old box, however, Twilight finally found Scootaloo’s forgotten Amber Alert: a vanilla piece of paper with her picture, her last known location, and most importantly, her case number, which Twilight eagerly scribbled down for future reference.

Her search of the archives didn't yield anything else helpful so Twilight crossed the hall to current records office, where she found Scootaloo’s school registration. She couldn’t help but feel a little impressed that a child as young as Scootaloo had the presence of mind to register herself for school. Where her parents’ signature was supposed to be were a pair of illegible scrawls. Twilight wasn’t sure how Scootaloo was able to get the clerk to file the papers, but ultimately it didn’t matter. With a valid school registration and no officers of the city aware she was a runaway Scootaloo could hide in plain sight.

She registered herself for school. Those words rattled around Twilight’s brain. At Scootaloo’s age, scholarly though she was, Twilight had never thought about how students ended up in school. It was just something that happened. But Scootaloo had to think about that, and where her next meal might come from, and what to do if a cold snap hit town, and a million other things that little fillies all across Equestria didn’t worry about because that was their parents’ job. Twilight felt a growing ache in her chest and sat down, unable to continue her search.

“All done, Mr. Craft,” Scootaloo called out as she put the last of the winterizing caulk back on its allotted peg. There was usually a certain level of clutter to the hardware store aisles but considering how long it took her to put everything back Scootaloo wasn’t sure if the coming storm was inside the shop or out. “Sorry I took so long,” she said as she brought a few wayward boxes of nails to the front of the store.

Sturdy took the boxes and placed them on their shelf. “You can do it fast or you can do it right, ‘less you're running a race.”

“I know, Mr. Craft. I still didn’t think it would take this long.”

Sturdy took a look at his now organized eighth aisle and nodded approvingly. “Ya did good,” he said with a smile. “So, you think that dragon’s passed by yet?” Sturdy drawled, reaching for his change drawer.

“What dragon?”

Sturdy began his count of Scootaloo’s wages. “The one you're hiding from.”

Scootaloo’s ears folded back against the top of her head. “Oh, that one. No it's still out there.”

The shop owner pushed ten bits across the counter. “Y’know I've been around the block once or twice, seen a few things, but I've never seen a pony who could face down a dragon all by herself.”

“Rainbow Dash could,” Scootaloo shot back, even though she knew that wasn’t the point.

“You'll have to show me your sonic rainboom someday then,” Sturdy replied, not missing a beat. “In the meantime you got ponies who would help you, but ya gotta talk to them.”

For a moment Scootaloo considered spilling her guts. Maybe Sturdy could help her, maybe he’d give her an actual part time job. He wouldn’t adopt her, probably, but maybe he knew a cheap room she could rent. But she caught herself before her fantasies got the better of her. “I don't feel like talking.”

Sturdy studied Scootaloo, his eyes traveling up and down, his lips pursed, finally he nodded. “Fair. I know a bit about wanting to go it alone too.” Sturdy exhaled a large breath of air. “I know I got no cause to tell ya what you should be doin, but I want you to make me a promise anyway. If this thing gets too big, you tell someone; doesn't have to be me, but it's gotta be someone. Deal?”

Scootaloo took a moment to respond. It wasn't a binding agreement of any sort, but it still felt serious. “Deal,” she said softly.

Sturdy nodded once, sealing the pact.

Author's Note

Thanks to Zimmerwald1915 for his edits, and thank you all for being patient.

The Beauty of Grace

Scootaloo's saddlebags bounced with the tantalizing weight of her few extra bits. Only now her thoughts weren't drawn to warm food or a new hat, but to the Ponyville train station. She could sneak onto a train going anywhere. Away from Twilight and her questions. Away from the fear that she would be sent back to an orphanage or a foster home. She'd done it before. But it wasn't a plan without risk. The ten bits she had weren't enough to live on for more than a day, she knew that. Even if she could retrieve her twelve-bit rainy day fund from Twilight's, that would only buy her an extra two days at most. Plus if the station master caught her without an adult, they would certainly turn her over to Foal Services.

She'd also be running from a place she'd come to consider home, and from the only real friends she ever had.

Scootaloo walked up to the station and paused to take a long look at the idling train. She had been in dire straits before, she could hack it again, right? All she would have to do is use four bits to buy a train ticket to Appleloosa, get off before the final stop and then start anew in one of the small towns that dotted Equestria's landscape. Ponies were generally pretty nice, surely someone would take pity on her without asking too many questions.

On the other hoof, Twilight's had a warm bed and all the food she could eat. Staying in Ponyville meant keeping her friends and a life that she fought hard to turn into a mostly-tolerable existence. It also had two inhabitants who were guaranteed to keep prying. She felt the coins jangle in her bag again, still unsatisfyingly light. Somewhat reluctantly she turned back toward the giant crystal tree.

When Twilight started this journey she had no illusions that it would be easy, but she clearly failed to account for her own emotions. Scootaloo was too familiar to distance herself, and had been dealt such unfair cards. Of the many friendship problems Twilight had confronted in her life, the only one that struck home like this had been her erstwhile friend Moondancer's self-imposed isolation, and that had been Twilight's fault for ignoring her. She was determined not to fail Scootaloo the same way; she would find a loving patient pony whom Scooatloo would love in return!

But first Twilight had to push herself to finish her file. It wasn't long, in fact it was positively sparse, and Twilight leafed slowly through it, absorbing the information. The first few pages were copies of her birth certificate and medical records, all deceptively ordinary. Tucked away in the back were Scootaloo's Book entries, ordered from shortly after her birth to a few years ago.

The Foal Services Registry, colloquially referred to as "the Book," was a listing of all the foals in Equestria up for adoption. Each child had a picture accompanied by a short paragraph. Most of the paragraphs were boilerplate: how long the child had been in the system, pertinent medical information, and a few details meant to foster a potential connection. There was a copy housed in every Foal Services office in Equestria. As Ponyville Foal Services's new Director, Twilight supposed she'd have to read the whole thing through soon.

She'd have relished the prospect if the whole adoption process didn't seem to verge on the obscene. The Book was all too like a catalogue, prospective parents like shoppers and foals like goods. Or like the personal ads secreted away in the backs of newspapers. How arrogant of ponies, to try and find "compatible" foals! Twilight's thoughts went to Pinkie and her family. The stoic, spartan, rock farming Pies would never have selected a party loving, hyperactive pink filly for their child, but that's what they got, and they loved her. They loved her because loving a child wasn't about having things in common, or their personality, it was about being a family.

Enough! Twilight pulled over a parchment and quill to bring Scootaloo's entry up to date, but before she could start writing it she heard the door open, and the filly herself walked in, mane disheveled and dusty.

Twilight found it impossible to view her the same way she did that morning. Where once she saw stubbornness, born of lack of discipline, she now saw a pony inured by necessity to emotional trauma. Scootaloo had to consider everypony she met a potential threat; no wonder she was reluctant to open up.

Twilight forced herself to smile, for her own protection as much as anything else. "Hi, Scootaloo. Did you have— Did you have a good day?"

"Um it was fine, I— Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?" Scootaloo quickly set to rubbing her snout.

Twilight tried to recover, stammering as she did so. "Uh no, sorry. I think Spike is getting ready to start dinner, if you'd like anything special."

Scootaloo balked momentarily, and Twilight raced to consider what faux pas she had committed. But Scootaloo's response was calm, if a little confused. "Hay burgers and fries?"

"Yes! That could be arranged! I think Spike's in the kitchen. If you hurry you can catch him before he decides to make something crazy."

"OK," Scootaloo replied with what just might have been the barest hint of a grin before scurrying to the kitchen.

As Twilight watched her run off, the idea that had been gestating began to solidify. I'm going to do this differently.She closed the file and hurried off to the kitchen to supervise.

Author's Note

Sorry bout the wait. I got a bit bogged down.

And I admit to being a little unsure how this is going to progress, but rest assured I'll find the way.

Thanks to Zimerwald for cleaning up quite a bit of clunky prose in this one.

Now What?

“The secret to a good hayburger is to make a little dent in the patty so it doesn’t get too thick in the middle,” Spike said, demonstrating with a single clawed finger.

Scootaloo looked down at her unwieldy hoof and picked up a spoon with her mouth, using the narrow end to mimic Spike’s technique. “Like this?” she said, the words decidedly muffled. .

Spiked nodded his approval. “Awesome, Scoots, we’ll make a chef out of you yet.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should take Olive up on those cooking lessons she’s always offering.” Scootaloo chuckled.

“You know Olive?” Spike asked taking the tray of burgers over to the griddle. “She let me stage for a few weeks while I was studying Itallenighen food.”

“Sometimes I wash dishes for her, we must have missed each other,” Scootaloo replied. Spike already knew she was an orphan, adding one more sad detail from her life didn’t seem to matter.

“Cool,” Spike said with a nonchalant shrug. “Well if you do decide to take her up on it you should know that she definitely doesn’t like putting carrots in her marinara sauce.

Before Scootaloo could ask why that was important Twilight walked in. “That smells great,” she said over the sizzle. She felt Scootaloo’s eyes on her but resolved to do her best to act like everything was perfectly normal. “Since you two are making dinner, it’s only fair that I set the table.” Scootaloo didn’t react, but Spike let out a brief. “Sweet,” before turning his attention toward which of the patties needed to be flipped. Twilight levitated three place settings from the cabinet and quickly sauntered off to the dining room, dishware trailing behind her in a purple cloud.

“C’mon Scoots, I’ll teach you the secret to making hay fries.” Spike called out before Scootaloo could guess further about Twilight’s motivations.

Dinner was uneventful, but Scootaloo did seem to enjoy Spikes cooking which then led to the pair arguing about how much food filli-second needed to eat to keep her energy up. Truthfully there were a million questions Twilight wanted to ask, but the conversation was so light and airy, that it felt wrong to break it up.

But dinner ended, Spike and Scootaloo retreated to their respective rooms and Twilight was forced to confront the fact she wasn’t any closer to resolving Scootaloo’s living situation then she had been at the beginning of the day. Not only that but Scootaloo deserved a complete and honest accounting. Her resolve not to follow the trope of catering to prospective adopting ponies, she decided to approach the problem from the opposite side, letting Scootaloo pick her family. It was almost certainly more difficulty, but maybe if the ponies being adopted had more of a choice they’d feel a sense of investment in their new home.

Twilight went upstairs to find Scootaloo in the middle of the room, her scooter turned over on it’s side as she fiddled with the axles in charge of keeping her wheels aligned.

“That looks interesting, what are you doing?”

Scootaloo glanced up, but only momentarily. “I’m rebalancing my wheels, he was pulling to the left a bit today.”

“He?”

“Well yeah, his name is Scooter and that’s a colts name.”

Twilight smiled, hoping that Scootaloo’s banter meant that she had achieved at least a small measure of trust. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. It’s pretty cool that you can fix your own scooter.”

Scootaloo shrugged. “It’s not like I can afford new parts, kinda had to learn how.”

Twilight waited for Scootaloo to elaborate, hoping to find an avenue to broach the topic of finding Scootaloo a home, but Scootaloo just turned her attention back to her scooter’s left wheel. Unable to think of another approach Twilight fell back to What would I want if I was in her shoes? She’d want ponies to be honest. “I guess I should tell you how my day went.”

Scootaloo looked up from the spinning wheel with the same look that Twilight first saw in the basement. It wasn’t exactly fear, it looked like Scootaloo was rapidly cycling through all the possible permutations of what was coming next and preparing a response for each one, an expression Twilight recognized from the mirror. “Nothing’s changed for the moment,” Twilight said. Scootaloo let out a small breath and unclenched her shoulders, but still studied Twilight with rapt attention. “Well for starters I found out how you were able to stay in Ponyville for so long.”

“Because I was careful,” Scootaloo said her eyes narrowing.

“And lucky,” Twilight gently corrected her. “And now I’m in charge of finding you a permanent home, I’d like it to be one that you approve of. What kind of place would you live?” It wasn’t a fair question, Twilight knew that. But it would hopefully lead to something Twilight could focus on tomorrow.

“I want to stay in Ponyville and umm,” Scootaloo’s voice trailed off. “I still don’t want Rainbow to know about any of this.”

“I remember. I don’t see any reason we have to tell her anything you don’t want to. Anything else?”

Scootaloo was silent for a few moments, turning her gaze to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it, not seriously anyway. I guess it’d be nice not to have to worry about it being cold in the winter”

Twilight fought back an urge to hug the filly in front of her. To want a a home was one thing, but to just assume that one was out of reach so that basic shelter was the only requirement was a whole other level of heart wrenching. “Well don’t worry Scootaloo, if nothing else I can promise that. But it would be helpful if I knew where to start looking.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, have you ever thought about having a brother or sister?”

“Kinda.”

It wasn’t a helpful answer but Twilight pressed onwards. “ Are there any ponies, other than Rainbow Dash, who you admire?”

“Not really, the rest of the Wonderbolts I guess.” Scootaloo said, now fiddling with the wrench in her right hoof.

“Well what do you think you might like to do when you grow up? Maybe I can find a pony who already works in that field.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say okay! I don’t know what I want. I didn’t...I didn’t hate my life before you found me. I mean sure it was a lot of hard work and it got cold sometimes, but it was mine. And I didn’t have to answer to anypony. And I didn’t have to worry what anypony thought. And sure it’d be nice to have a family, but I don’t. And I don’t think just putting me in somepony’s house and saying ‘this is your new family’, is going to make it true!” Scootaloo found herself breathing hard at the end of her diatribe.

I know it’s a lot Scootaloo. And you’re right, you can’t expect to instantly feel at home, no matter where you end up.” Twilight paused for a minute, considering how best to proceed. She reasoned that Scootaloo was still likely to be discombobulated, and so pressuring her further was only going to make her more upset. “You don’t have to say yes to anything. I just want you to know that I won’t do anything you don’t want. Okay?”

Scootaloo nodded and Twilight was forced to wonder if she just made a promise she couldn’t keep.

Author's Note

Hey guess what? This story still lives.

Something New

The next morning was overcast and cold, the perfect morning to stay in with a smoldering fire and a good book, despite that Twilight again set off in search of more answers; boarding a train to Manehattan. Though Ponyville’s archives didn’t have any answers, Scootaloo used to live in Manehattan, and now that she had a case number to orient her she could begin a search of the Manhehattan archives.. Despite the maudlin circumstances Twilight couldn’t help but be excited on the train ride.; what made research so gratifying to her was the process. Starting with one small piece of information, that she could pull on, until the whole problem became unraveled.

Government standards being uniform throughout Equestria, Manehattans foal services was housed within city hall. But unlike Ponyville’s one story building, Manehattan’s city hall was a 25 story skyscraper. The directory in the lobby told her that she was looking for the 16th floor. When she arrived she was met with a look of shock from the receptionist. It was the same look she encountered all over Equestria when she traveled outside Ponyville. Is that really a Princess? What’s she doing here? Am I in trouble? Is my life about to change? The answers to those questions were almost always, yes, running errands, no and no. But that didn’t stop Twilight from becoming exasperated on occasion. She put on her best smile. “Yes, hi. I’m actually running Ponyville’s Foal Services office for the time being and well I need a file I think you have.”

The receptionist behind the desk quickly composed herself. “Of course, we catalog files by year. which one?”

Twilight bit back a comment about how chronological ordering wasn’t the optimal filing solution for an agency whose timelines could easily become confused.. “I’m not really sure, try five years ago. The filly’s name is Scootaloo.”

“Right away your Highness,” the clerk said, as Twilight forced another smile.

Some rummaging later, the clerk produced a manilla envelope. Twilight didn’t wait to get home, choosing to open the file right there on the counter, her curiosity getting the best of her. Scootaloo’s medical history showed she received all of her shots and yearly checkups revealed no serious health problems. She had more than a few disciplinary write-ups from her time in the orphanage, but all were for minor infractions, the most serious being the time she thought it would be a good idea to slide down the stairs on a repurposed bath mat.

“Is that it?” the receptionist asked hopefully.

No this isn’t it. How can this be it, this is barely more than a medical history, I don't need to know if Scootaloo got her shots, I need to know who she is so I can find her a home that makes her happy! “Yes, thank you.”

Her trip to Foal Services being what could barely be considered a success Twilight set off to one of her favorite places. Manehattan was home to one of the largest libraries in Equestria, and it’s crown jewel was the stately reading room. Laid out more like a museum, which it technically was given the age and rarity of some of it’s volumes, the reading room in the central branch was one of Twilight’s favorite places. As a child she spent countless hours exploring far off places and studying the works of Equestria's foremost thinkers, and though her duties as a Princess prevented her from returning as often as she would have liked she still felt right at home, claiming a small desk in the far left corner of the room where she was least likely to be disturbed. Alone with her thoughts, and armed with all of the paperwork she was likely to get, Twilight opened the Foal Services Registry. After reading a few listings to gauge the appropriate style and tone she took out a pen and began to write.

While Twilight was off in Manehattan, Scootaloo decided to take advantage of a rare afternoon off to spend time with the crusaders. Today's activity was Cutie Mark Crusaders doctors, but unfortunately the citizens of ponyville didn’t seem to have any medical ailments they were willing to let three fillies with a propensity for mayhem treat.

“How are we supposed to get out medical cutie marks if no one will let us help them?” Sweetie Belle asked throwing her hoofs in the air.

“We could look at that bandage you got there Scoots,” Applebloom suggested.

Scootaloo instinctively brought her damaged hoof closer. “But it’s already healing, we aren’t going to get our cutie marks by putting on a new bandage.”

“Maybe but we aren’t going to get our cutie marks doing nothing either,” Applebloom playfully retorted.

As usual the role of peacemaker fell to Sweetie. “What if we just play a game, it’s been a while since we had fun, just the three of us.”

Scootaloo was quick to agree if for no other reason then it would end the discussion about her hoof. “I call the going first,” she said, rushing to grab Scrabble from it’s place on the shelf.

Scootaloo is an energetic filly who would do well in a small family that enjoys the outdoors. She doesn't have any diagnosed behavioral issues but she does have a fierce independent streak. This will be her first real family and she's eager to fit in however her new parents should be prepared to work with her on that front. Her extracurricular interest include riding on her scooter and the wonderbolts. She's made several friends in ponyville and it would be best for her to stay where she could continue those friendships.

Twilight read the paragraph she had just written, precise in its language, factually accurate, elegant in its brevity and promptly crumpled it up in disgust where it joined a small mound of other similarly crumpled papers. She’s not a puppy. I thought I was going to do this differently. How is another boilerplate ‘please adopt this little girl’ going to help anypony? She slammed the adoption registry closed in another moment of frustration. Taking a deep breath, Twilight began to mentally distance herself from the task at hand, it was her prefered method of problem solving. Break the problem down to it’s components, then work backwards.

Scootaloo needs a family.
To get a family she needs to be adopted
To be adopted prospective parents have to be interested in adopting her.
To be interested in adopting her her entry in the registry has to be compelling.

That was it, the flaw in the process! The whole stupid registry was doing more harm than good. Emboldened with an idea, Twilight quickly packed up and flew back to Foal Services. When she burst through the door the look of sheer terror on the receptionist face was enough to remind Twilight to lower her excitement levels. “If I was looking to adopt a foal, where would I start?”

Author's Note

So two stories I like have been revived from a deep slumber recently. I figured it was only fair to add mine to that list.

Authors love feedback.

All mistakes in this are mine, my editors haven't proofed this chapter because I didn't ask them to.

Something Old

The process prospective parents went through was, unsurprisingly, thorough; there was a background check, mandatory parenting classes and then surprise home visits for at least a year. A further look at Canterlot’s records showed Twilight,despite her misgivings, the success rate was fairly high. The rigorous application process assured that prospective parents were prepared for a challenge. And though Twilight didn’t love the registry, she wasn’t sure randomly placing foals was a better system. Lastly she was forced to confront the fact that Scotoaloo was, by most accounts, an anomaly. Orphans were rare in Equestria, even in tragic circumstances extended family assumed caregiving responsibility. In the unlikely event that there was no family who could be primary caregivers, there was no shortage of ponies looking to adopt. Sometimes it was for medical reasons, sometimes it was simply out of the kindness of their hearts, but either way the system worked.

Twilight slumped back in her chair. In the back recess of her mind, in one of the few uncharitable dark corners, Twilight wished the system didn’t work. A broken system could be fixed, finding weak spots in processes, creating new organizational structures, Twilight knew how to do those things. Repairing relationships between ponies, mediating friendship disputes, Twilight knew how to do those things too. And if this was a big ugly monster, or scary demon or a pony under the influence of a malevolent ancient artifact, she had always been able to find solutions for those sorts of things as well.

But family? Family problems were a bit of a blind spot for Twilight. She had a family, they were kind and loving and even though they didn’t always agree, and even if she could be competitive with her brother, there was never any doubt that they were family and that would never change. So as she trudged home, she was forced to admit that her idea to reform Equestria’s adoption protocol was an over-reaction.

Sweetie Belle won Scrabble, she always did, it was one of the reasons the crusaders didn’t play it very often. But Scootaloo wasn’t thinking about that as she walked back to the library/castle. As she often did, her thoughts shifted to what opportunities to better her position existed at this exact moment. It was too early to dumpster dive, and too late to visit Sturdy or the Apples for a day job. But it was approaching dinnertime and that meant restaurants were preparing for a dinner rush. The high turnover and frequency of call outs at restaurants meant lots of opportunities to jump onto a staff for an evening. She wasn’t old enough to be a server, but depending on who the manager at Olive’s was that night sometimes she could be a busgirl. If not, all of her usual stops would let her be a dishwasher. She prefered busgirl, the servers usually were more generous splitting their tips and there were more opportunities to sneak a bite from the occasional uneaten entree.

Despite it being a bit early, Olive’s was already drawing a crowd. Scootaloo went around back and knocked on the door. It was answered by a black pony named Midnight. He usually let Scootaloo on staff, but was a bit stricter than some of the other managers, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and Scootallo didn’t feel like trying her hoof elsewhere.

“Need a busgirl tonite?” she asked with a practiced smile, she hoped came off as carefree and not desperate.

Midnight studied her with a glare Scootaloo was used too, but still found unnerving. Eventually he spoke. “Well we are a bit short staffed, seems like half my staff wanted the night off. Your folks know you’ll be home late?”

“Yeah, they’ve got some kind of work dinner.” Work related absences were some of Scootaloo’s favorite lies to employ, believable, mundane and inviting absolutely no follow up questions.

“Well, I’ve got no idea why you’d want to waste a perfectly good free night, but I’m not going to look a gift dog in the mouth. You know where the aprons are, and I’ll have you bus section 3, Millie’s serving that section tonight.”

Finally a bit of luck, Scootaloo thought. Mille was easy to work with, generous with her tips and most importantly she almost always gave Scootaloo a take-away box at the end of the night.

All things considered, Scootaloo prefered working at Sturdy’s to busing tables. Whenever she saw her classmates, she had to be extra careful to avoid them. Fortunately for her no one ever paid much attention to a pony in an apron picking up dirty dishes a few tables away. But even without any subterfuge busing tables was exhausting. It was near eleven when she finally made it back to the library, with a box of spaghetti and 12 bits. Had she gone back to her basement, she would have eaten her dinner and promptly collapsed into her cardboard. Opening the door she found Twilight behind the reception desk, neatly ordered piles of papers on either side of her.

“You’re back, I was worried,” Twilight said, trying to keep her tone shy of judgemental.

“Why?”

“Cause it’s late.”

“No it’s not, this is what time I get back on most days.”

“It’s nearly midnight.” Twilight paused. “This is normal for you?”

Scootaloo nodded. “Gotta do closing stuff.”

“Closing stuff?”

“Yeah, they let me bus tables as Olive’s sometimes. But after ponies leave, things need to be cleaned, chairs need to be put away. That kind of thing.”.

“You don’t have to take odd jobs. I’m not going to start making you pay for meals.”

“Sure, but I can’t stay here forever, then what?”

“I promise I’ll find you a home Scootaloo. Somewhere you don’t have to worry about paying for your own food.”

“But you can’t know that!” Scootaloo grew quiet. “I’m not even sure I want to be adopted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t mind taking odd jobs, sure I’d like it if things were easier, but I like that my stuff is mine. Maybe not everyone needs to have the same type of home.”

“Well no, but everypony needs a home somewhere.”

Scootaloo sighed, unwilling to engage with this particular argument again. “Maybe mine is by myself.” Neither pony said anything as an oppressive silence hung in the air. “Can I go to bed?”

Author's Note

Well, I did it. Over one year later I have a new chapter.

Unfinished

Twilight slumped behind the mountain of papers behind her desk. “I can’t do this Spike, I tried and I just can’t.”

Scootaloo had gone to bed, and the library was quiet save for the occasional hoot from Owlicious. Somehow the silence only served to amplify Twilight’s doubts.

“What are you talking about Twilight?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I'd just take over a whole agency, change a system that ponies have been using for years, take a filly who’s been living on her own, add her to a family and make it home in time for dinner."

“Well when you put it that way, maybe you have a point Twi.”

“Thanks Spike,” Twilight said with a sigh.

“You know what I mean Twilight, this might be one of those times where you’re trying to do too much. You said you wanted to help Scootaloo, so just help Scootaloo. Change everything else later.”

The faintest hint of a smile appeared on Twilights face. “Y’know Spike, sometimes I forget how wise you are.”

Spike lit up. “Does this mean I can run the book fair by myself? I was thinking that we could invite Cloud Jester to talk about his newest book-”

Twilight cut him off before he could lay out his plans for a panel about the novelization of the Power Ponies movie. “One thing at a time, Spike.”

The next morning Scootaloo again ventured out into Ponyville. Winter Break was drawing to an end and that meant that she only had a few more school free days left. Another day with the crusaders was tempting, but the ever present sensation at the base of her skull gnawed at her. She had been given a gift. It came in the form of an overbearing princess but it was a gift nonetheless. She could save one hundred percent of her earnings as long as Twilight was willing to let her stay at the library. Even if that was only for a few more weeks, the possibilities of what she could do with those kinds of savings were tantalizing. A real bed, a wool blanket for next winter, a camping stove with enough fuel to let her cook her own food on the nights she didn’t get restaurant leftovers, all were now within the realm of possibilities, if she just worked harder. With that thought in mind she set out to Sturdy’s hardware store.

“Hiya ‘Loo,” the old pony drawled as the bell above the door announced her arrival.

Scootaloo opened her mouth to spin a tale of how she wanted to buy tickets to a Power Ponies convention and also maybe make a costume so she could go as Zapp but when the words finally left her throat they came out as, “Got a place a filly can hide from the world?”

Sturdy betrayed no emotion. Not the sad look ponies often gave her when she started to explain that she needed some extra bits, not confused stare those same ponies often gave her when she came back the next day. He just smiled his just shy of a wry grin. “I always do. Looking to earn a few bits, or just need some space?” It was the first time Sturdy had ever hinted that perhaps Scootaloo’s careful lies were more transparent than she realized.

“Both, but I’ll take the space if the bits are scarce.”

“Hardware business has been good lately. All this cold weather gets ponies in the mood to seal in those leaky windows and what not.” Sturdy craned his neck to look around. “Store’s pretty tidy but I could use a hand in the shop.”

The offer took Scootaloo by surprise. On rare occasions, Sturdy would retreat to a small carpenters workshop in the back of the store, but this was the first time he suggested that Scootaloo join him.

“But what about the store? What happens if someone comes in?”

“Bell still works, I know that cause I heard it a minute ago. C’mon ‘Loo it’ll beat waiting in here all day.” Sturdy said as he ambled towards the back.

Scootaloo hurried to catch up jogging into a small room that smelled heavily of pine and varnish. Boards and blocks of wood were stacked neatly in the corner, and a bevy of wood cutting tools hung on the walls. Some were easy to recognize, saws and hammers for instance, but there were more than a few that Scootaloo couldn’t make heads or tails out of. There were also a few sinister looking machines. Sitting next to a thin saw blade was a rough cut piece of wood, maybe hickory maybe oak, Scootaloo wasn’t sure. Traced on the piece was a swirling design, flowing from end to end with dips and twist.

“Alright ‘Loo, been working on these mouldings for a minute,” Sturdy said gently patting the marked wood Scootaloo had just been admiring. “Ol arthritis makes my hoof cramp up, so I’m gonna need you to work the jig. Already done the markings, all you need to do is follow the line. Make sure you watch your hoofs.”

Scootaloo again studied the pattern, it’s complexities now more daunting than beautiful. “I’ve never done this before. What if I mess up?

Sturdy shrugged. “I reckon you will, everypony does sometimes. Probably fix it with some sanding and stain if it’s a real doozy.”

“But what if I mess up really bad? So bad that it can’t be fixed.”

Another shrug. “Then I guess we start over.”

“But what if I mess that one up?”

“Then we try again, we got plenty of wood,” Sturdy said with a low chuckle. “I suppose it’s possible that you just ain’t cut out for woodwork, but the way I see it we ain’t any worse off then when we started, two ponies and no mouldings. Don’t make sense to not even try.” Sturdy winked. “You got this ‘Loo, ponies less talented than you do this all the time.”

Scootaloo couldn’t help but laugh. “Ok, let’s do this!” she said with a hoof pump thrown in. Sturdy handed her a pair of goggles and a mask Gingerly she placed her hoofs on the board and Sturdy fired up the saw. It was quieter then Scootaloo thought it would be.

“Nice an easy there. I’ll feed, you just worry about following those lines.”

Just following the lines was harder than Scootaloo would have guessed. With Sturdy pushing the board she didn’t have to extend a lot of effort but she did have to keep her focus less she missed a turn. She made a few mistakes but everytime she brought it up Sturdy urged her forward. When the pair was finished Scootaloo couldn’t helped but be impressed by the result. It still needed to be finished and stained but she could appreciate how nice it would look above a fireplace.

“What I tell ya, you’re a natural,” Sturdy said with an approving nod. He lifted his head high, “No carpentry mark yet though.”

Scootaloo blushed. “I just did what you told me to.”

“Ya did, but you still did the work. I reckon that makes this yours. What do you want to do with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you could sell it, I know a pony who’s got a showroom. You could keep it if ya want, wouldn’t take much to mount it.”

“Well it still needs more work, and I don’t know what to do next.”

Sturdy peered at the object, his lips pursed as he no doubt took in the finer details in the lack of fine details.

" I could give you a few lessons. We could polish up a few other projects I’ve got back here."

"That sounds good with me," Scootaloo filled in the void from his trailing words.

"And if we sell any of 'em, you'd get a cut!"

"That sounds really good with me," Scootaloo laughed.

"Well then, ‘Loo," he held a ever-so-slightly shaky hoof out to Scootaloo, "it sounds like we've got ourselves a nice little partnership."

Author's Note

Hey look a new chapter and it didn't take me a year or anything.

Burning Embers are Easily Kindled

The space heater proved to be an imperfect solution. It buzzed loudly after half an hour of use and was too hot to sleep directly in front of. Scootaloo let it run until the cellar was reasonably warm, then turned it off when she wanted to sleep. She still woke up colder then she would have liked, but her night was infinitely more bearable.

A bigger problem was the burns on her left front hoof. Yesterday they’d been ugly and red, but only a little achy; now they were throbbing, swollen, white with pus, and surrounded by deep crimson. She gingerly touched one and searing pain shot up her foreleg.

First aid kits were a luxury, but visiting the hospital was not an option. Scootaloo tied a bandana around her hoof and grunted as she pulled it tight. If the infection didn’t heal on its own, it would at least stay manageable until she could figure out a better solution. With a little balancing she found she could still ride her scooter reasonably well, as long as she avoided any sharp turns.

Sometimes she would meet Applebloom on the way to school and sometimes she wouldn’t. Today, their paths crossed. “Heya Scoots,” Apple Bloom said with a wave. “Applejack said you came by the other day. Sorry I couldn’t come out to play.”

“It’s OK.”

“What happened to your hoof?”

It was a perfectly innocent question, and Scootaloo hated it. She hated it because it meant lying to her friend. She hated it because it reminded her that she didn’t injure herself like other fillies her age. She hated it because if Apple Bloom hurt herself she had a family who would tend to her. “Scooter accident.”

“Figures. You alright?”

“Yeah, its no big deal.” Another lie.

“Well c’mon, we don’t wanna be late.”

Scootaloo was able to make it through the school day and her nightly foraging but the extra effort left her exhausted. On top of everything else, she had to return Sturdy Craft’s soldering iron, and the same lie about her burns wouldn’t work on him. He was kind enough to give her some zinc cream, at least. Still, by the end of the day, she was tired enough that instead of waiting for her new space heater to finish its job, she just turned it on the lowest setting and collapsed on her cardboard bed.

Twilight adjusted her telescope and marked her notebook. “Thanks for staying up with me, Owlowiscious.” She giggled. “Well I guess you’re up anyway, but I really appreciate you keeping me company while I chart these constellations.”

“Hoo.”

“And you’re a great conversationalist too!” Twilight giggled again.

Owlowiscious flapped his wings wildly and jerked his head away from the sky and toward Ponyville. “Hoo!”

Turning her head Twilight heard the flashing sirens of Ponyville’s fire brigade. There wasn’t any smoke, as far as she could see, and no orange glow indicating a fire. Nevertheless, she decided to see if she could be of any help.

Strictly speaking, Twilight didn’t have any authority over Ponyville’s municipal services. She could, if she wanted, petition Mayor Mare to issue an executive order. Failing that, she could create an independent advisory board which would be granted provisional authority in accordance with their charter, pending an approval by the judicial council. But even then she had no actual clearance to be on site at an active fire scene.

But in practice Twilight was a princess and so as soon as she arrived at Quills and Sofas the fire captain galloped over and snapped a sharp salute. If he was confused why a sovereign felt the need to check on what was apparently a routine call he didn’t show it. “Princess Twilight,” he said with a bow. “Thank you for coming, but it appears this is a milk run.”

Twilight awkwardly acknowledged the bow, still not completely comfortable with the trappings of power. “What happened here?”

“No big deal really. Carbon monoxide alarm in the basement went off. Normally not our problem unless we get a call, but it’s the middle of the night in the business district so we’ve got to come check it out.”

“Is anypony hurt?”

“No. Basement’s empty, come look,” the captain said, leading Twilight down the stairs.

At first glance it looked like any other basement she might expect to see, crammed with clutter and bric-a-brac. But there was a pillow and a crumpled up pile of blankets tucked off to the side, and out of the corner of her eye, Twilight spotted the same hat and scarf she’d given Scootaloo. “Did you see anypony on your way here?”

“Well, we weren’t really looking, but no. Streets are usually quiet this late anyway.”

Before Twilight could ask another question, Davenport came rushing down the stairs. “What’s going on here?”

“Looks like your heater malfunctioned, sir. Set off the carbon monoxide alarm,” the captain answered.

“What heater? I haven’t been down here in months.”

“This isn’t yours?” The captain held up the space heater that had inadvertently summoned them all.

“No, and I don't know what the rest of this stuff is doing in my basement either.”

While Davenport and Captain Sunspot settled the particulars, Twilight excused herself to look around. She picked up an the orange feather from near the makeshift bed and examined it.

Twilight was capable of infusing her spells with shocking amounts of energy, but what truly made her a skilled magician was her understanding, bolstered by years of study, of exactly how different spells worked. Presently she was thinking of a repair spell, though healing magic followed similar rules. As long as the break was recent, pieces that once belonged to a single whole could be put back together. At the core of the spell was the principle that the pieces wanted to fit together, that they had a relationship with the other pieces. When she cast a spell she had a relationship with all the pieces as well. So a repair spell was simply a matter of helping the pieces do what they wanted. Like Princess Celestia always said, “friendship is magic.”

Twilight reached out to the orange feather and felt it hum. It wanted to be part of a wing again. Most unicorns would have been incapable of linking a single feather to a wing more that a few feet away, but Twilight wasn’t most unicorns. She set her jaw and began pumping energy into the spell. Go. The feather shot off and Twilight galloped after it.

Scootaloo woke up to a blaring siren and a splitting headache. She didn’t know what the alarm was for, and ultimately didn’t care. It was clearly coming from inside the building, and that meant ponies would be coming soon. She grabbed her scooter, her saddlebag, and her jar-slash-piggy bank and scooted away as fast as she possibly could.

She found herself at the caves outside of town—a place she’d slept before she found her cellar. She forgot how dank they could get. Alone in the dark she slumped against the cave wall, all her hard work erased. The space heater, her scavenged materials, the roof over her head, even Sturdy’s ointment were all gone now. Frustration bubbled over and she started pounding the ground with her one good hoof. Why. Can’t. Anything! Ever! Be! Fair! She wasn't asking for much, just a little piece of mind. Everypony else got some assurance that things would be OK from day to day, why not her? She slammed both hooves into the ground, trying to ignore the fresh jolt of pain. Harsh reality asserted itself. Back to square one.

Scootaloo didn’t even feel the feather slide back among its fellows; she did however notice that all of a sudden she wasn’t alone.

“Hello Scootaloo.”

Author's Note

Most authors love feedback.

This author has two good editors who help refine his prose on this story. He thanks them.

He also reminds you that this link can be used to nominate stories for the Scootaloo hall of fame. (Do it in the forum, not the comments of this story).