The near setting sun shone down on Sweet Apple Acres, specifically the Cutie Mark Crusader’s clubhouse.
The three fillies who made up the members of the group appeared tired as they exited the clubhouse, but all the same they seemed happy with the days outing.
“Darn it, Ah thought we would have gotten our cutie marks for sure!” Applebloom lamented, straightening her bow as she stopped just in front of the clubhouse.
Sweetie Belle gently brushed her mane with a gnarled and overall just poor looking hairbrush as she sat on the clubhouse ramp. “I thought ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders hairbrush makers’ was a joke to make personal brushes.” She stopped her brushing and turned to Scootaloo, “Does anypony even have a hairbrush making cutie mark?”
The pegasus shrugged as she leaned against her parked scooter. “Well, hair brushes have to come from somewhere. Right?”
Sweetie Belle blinked off into the distance, a lost expression on her face. “My sister doesn’t even have a sowing cutie mark.”
This statement left the Crusaders silent for a few moments, until Applebloom kicked a pebble lightly. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.”
Scootaloo shrugged again, a small smile upon her face. “At least we didn’t end up with tree sap on us this time.” She glanced towards Sweetie Belle, smile half faltering, “Barely.”
“I said I was sorry!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, seemingly still embarrassed from the event.
Scootaloo shook her head and chuckled, “Well, I guess it’s time to head back to town. You coming Sweetie?”
Sweetie’s brain seemed to stall for a moment before she shook her own head. “Oh, no, Rarity said she was gonna do something with Applejack today, so I’m gonna wait for them at the barn with Applebloom.” Applebloom nodded in agreement with Sweetie Belle. “You sure you don’t want to stay? Rarity and I can walk home with you if you want.”
Scootaloo appeared to stiffen for a split second, but the moment passed quickly and could have been anything, or so the two Crusaders thought to themselves. “O-oh, no, no that’s alright. I’m, uh, I’m gonna get a head start to Ponyville then. See ya tomorrow girls!” Despite her wavering voice, the other two Crusaders did not appear to notice, or care.
Her two friends waved and said their goodbyes as Scootaloo steered her scooter down the apple tree laden path away from the clubhouse, propelled by her fluttering wings. As she rode down the dirt path, she glanced around the towering trees, her sight obscured by their sheer number and the stark shadows that were cast by the setting sun.
The shadows of the trees passed over her in a repeating pattern that played havoc on her eyes, but she refused to blink during her search. She swallowed anxiously, as the thing she looked for evaded her sight. That’s not to say she wanted to find it, she would be relieved to not find it at all, but it always found her.
It always hated when Scootaloo stayed with the Crusaders for too long, and Scootaloo always hated being alone. It always came out when she was alone.
Her eyes continued to scan the treelines on either side and the road, every fiber of her being standing on end and screaming, both to look on to know where the enemy lay but to also want nothing more than to look away and ignore what could only be called the inevitable. No matter how much Scootaloo prayed, hoped and ran, it always found her. And from the large shadow that leered from behind a tree Scootaloo blew past and almost missed, it had.
Scootaloo’s eyes locked onto the dirt road in front of her, the trees flitting by in her peripheral vision almost causing a feeling of vertigo, her wings almost locked up as goosebumps and a general feeling of her heart dropping out from under her washed through her mind and body.
She tried her best to not hyperventilate, wanting to press forward at speeds she’d never reached before but was locked in combat with the thought that always ran through her mind in such moments. Why bother? It always will catch her, after all. And from the arid breath that licked the side of her face, nearly causing her to flinch and swerve into the apple trees, it had.
Her heart pounded heavier than before, as she attempted to correct her pathing while also keeping the blackened figure that seemed to simply stand, perpetually, beside her regardless of her fluttering, wing driven speed.
“Always running.” It whispered into her right ear, its rotten breath tickling her ear which flicked in irritation and fear. “Why don’t you fly away Little Bird? Surely somewhere in your mind you could believe that would evade me. As deluded a belief that would be.”
Scootaloo pointedly ignored the dry and scratchy rasps, trying her best to keep from fidgeting on her scooter as she waited for Ponyville to come into view, or at least the main road to and from Sweet Apple Acres. A road that felt much farther away than it should be.
The blackened figure leaned closer to the small filly, she could feel it. For a certain definition of ‘feel.’ As if the figure’s limbs hovered mere hairs away from her fluttering wings, legs and neck. As if attempting to come as close to caressing her without making physical contact.
A wet slosh sounded near her other ear followed by a dry clack, as the charcoal figure sidled near her. “I know why you truly run, Little Bird. Why you suggested the activities today. The hairbrush making.”
Scootaloo shivered at its presence, at its words, her wings nearly flapping off beat. All the same, she refused to respond. She knew this game. She hated it.
Despite her silence, the figure pressed forward, leaning just into her view that she knew it was there, but hardly enough to see anything beyond a blur. “You fear they will escape you. Know they will. Earn what is theirs and never yours and leave you behind. As you so deserve.”
She grunted, in both exertion as well as the toiling emotions flaring inside her as she took a sharp turn on to a new dirt road. This one held a simple fence, separating the trees from the path. Despite the rough turn that took her out of the shadows, the blackened figure didn’t even seem like it was jostled, it didn’t even make a sound as it feltlessly clung to her movement.
It had been some time since it had the opportunity to screw with her for so long. Either accompanied by the other Crusaders, or among the slightly bustling streets of Ponyville, she was never alone long enough for it to get anything beyond a few remarks out before vanishing from the waiting eyes and ears of other ponies. Yet, out among the dirt roads and apple trees it was a veritable banquet of torture that came only once a precious time.
A dry, stretching noise sounded from the thing, a noise that threatened to draw Scootaloo’s gaze to the figure, and yet she stood as strong as she could. “These talks are quite necessary you know. You really must look beyond insipid impossibilities. Delusions.”
The young pegasus pushed harder, needing to go faster, to get to safety. She couldn’t out run it, but she could limit how long it could torment her. It seemed to chuckle at such sentiment. “Why even flee as you do? I will be waiting as always. Ready for when you’ll accept what you really are. A-”
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” Yelled the seafoam unicorn Scootaloo had nearly slammed into.
Scootaloo corrected her steering from the near miss, relief washing over her. “S-sorry!”
All at once the presence lifted. The light tickle of the near touch was gone, the heavy breaths against her cheek replaced by the rushing wind as she carried on through Ponyville. A sigh wracked through her as she leaned against the handle of her scooter.
A part of her wilted at the glare of the unicorn, the uncomfortable stares of ponies she passed by, but Celestia did she bask in them. Compared to the taunts of the thing, the disapproval, the annoyance of the ponies of Ponyville, she could take it all and then some.
She could take it so well, instead of heading straight home she roamed about town, at least for a few minutes. The presence of others held it away, if only for the moment. But, she didn’t want Rarity and Sweetie to happen upon her, well, she did say it was just a head start, but she felt better not running into them all the same.
Eventually the sun was practically fully set, too quickly for Scootaloo’s taste, and the light of the moon and occasional lamppost lit her sight. She swallowed her comfort and breathed a heavy sigh as she faced a cramped alley. Out of sight of most, nestled away from know or care, laid home.
No longer did she ride her scooter, but instead gently guided the wooden construct into the brick guarded path. The shadows of the near towering buildings on either side of her washed away the paltry light, leaving a mere hoofful of moonbeams to illuminate a simple looking house. It wasn’t elegant, but neither was it downtrodden. It appeared cared for enough, but little more. The wooden stairs appeared heavy, brutish but strong, with no place for personality. The stairs lead to a plain door, just as brutish, but lacking the inherent strength the stairs held.
Scootaloo approached the place she called home, and gently rolled her scooter next to the brutish stairs. She closed her eyes and all but clung to her scooter like a life line for a moment, before letting go of it and turning to face the slim entry way she had just come through.
Looming in a darkened corner stood the thin figure. Its dusty, burnt flesh absorbing what little light dared to bounce its way. To the untrained eye it would have looked simply like an incredibly dark corner, but Scootaloo could tell it was there. Only the barest features were visible, even to her trained eye, but the tall creature smiled cruelly down at the filly as, not so much moonlight, but the absence of it played against the sharp, all too long teeth.
Scootaloo glared at the thin figure. She wanted to respond, to rebuke its words that still lay in her mind, but found her tongue dry. She settled for spitting at the figure, which appeared not phased in the slightest. Feeling the anger rising in her throat, Scootaloo turned and scampered up the sturdy stairs and into the house.
Much like the outside, it appeared cared for enough. There wasn’t coats of dust on the sparse furniture, but there also was but a single, hardly effective light for every room, giving the impression of a dungeon of solid wood.
She hated lingering in the slim hallways, and too high ceiling-ed rooms of the house. It always felt too cold, too dark, and gave ample time for the figure to loom over her. Scootaloo could practically feel said figure watching her as she did her best to scuttle through the house and up a flight of stairs to the attic, not giving it any time to mock her further.
The attic was a bit less well kept than the rest of the house, a bit of dust and a hefty crack in one part of the roof allowing moonlight in and a decent view of Ponyville out. But the attic also held more personality than the rest of the house, with amateur modified Wonderbolt posters to instead feature poorly drawn Rainbow Dashs covering the walls. They were lightly scuffed or torn here or there, but practically glowed with love compared to everything else.
Scootaloo quickly dumped her saddle bags to the floor and her face lit up at the comforting sight of her poorly drawn idol. Even the obvious presence of the figure, quiet squeaks of the floorboards and dry scraping could not shake Scootaloo’s smile. In the presence of the home made Rainbow Dash poster the figure seemed that more far away, not entirely gone but much more bearable, even if the scraping held its own uncomfortable texture.
Keeping the visual of the poster in mind, Scootaloo crawled onto her slightly rickety bed, content to face the night, at least for the moment. She grabbed the bed blanket and draped it over herself almost entirely, shutting out the feeling of being watched and the presence that inevitably loomed near her bedside.
She could stand one more night.
Her sleep was dreamless, but thankfully not fitful. That was about as good a sleep she could expect at that point. If anything, the morning was worse. Whether waking from a restful or restless sleep was irrelevant.
Scootaloo woke from her sleep, the figure seeming to have not moved an inch, much to her frustration. She kicked her bed sheets off and blindly dashed past where the figure should be, barely managing to avoid tripping as she snatched up her saddle bags and practically dashed down stairs. The least amount of time spent alone the better as far as Scootaloo was concerned, as even being in the house had started her hair to stand on end.
She threw open her front door, jumped onto her scooter and power fluttered right out of the alleyway entrance, and let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Out in the open was safety.
Or so she thought, until the sound akin to strained rope inched toward her ear. “Always with the assumptions. Little Bird.”
Scootaloo didn’t have it in her to flinch, instead she glanced feverishly away from where the voice came from and paled. It was far earlier than she first assumed. So early in the morning she’d be lucky to pass the occasional early bird pony. So early, she had practically no defense against the figure.
“So blind, Little Bird, that you do not even see what’s right in your sight.” The mirth obvious on the figure’s stale voice.
Scootaloo grit her teeth, her expected safety being ripped away allowed the figure’s words to dig underneath her skin more than usual. It almost felt like every muscle in her body tensed at random, worsening as the figure leaned so close it almost brushed by her ear. “And you wonder why you keep on failing at everyth--”
“Shut up! Shut! UP!” Scootaloo shouted, twisting around to glare in rage at the figure. It floated alongside her, almost hurting her eyes in how the deep black of the figure obscured detail despite being so close, while the buildings and trees behind it flashed in the gaps in the figure’s mass. “You are nothing! Nothing!” She screamed, voice cracking from the emotional strain.
It chuckled, dry and hitching, as it leaned close to Scootaloo’s face. “I am what I am, that I know. What of yourself? Nothing describes you quite well as Nothing.”
Scootaloo growled, coming off more like a strained and stifled scream. Her breath became heavy, her face began to hurt from how hard her face squashed and stretched from her glare. “I am-! Whoa!”
Her rebuttal was interrupted. Having taken her eyes from the road for so long, something had gotten underneath her wheel, spinning her scooter out of control. She tried her best to correct her course, jerking the handle this way and that to stabilize, but to no avail, as she went head over hooves crashing to the ground, and skidded to a halt.
She stayed like that, face in the dirt, for awhile. She didn’t know how long she was there. Her mind blank, if only for the moment. Before Scootaloo could even begin to think about picking herself up, the sound of a door opening sounded nearby followed by a voice, “What’s going on out here? Scootaloo?” The voice asked in confusion.
Scootaloo pulled her face out of the dirt and turned to see Twilight Sparkle looking at her, concerned. She was slightly surprised to have ended up in front of the Library, as surprised as her emotional state would allow. “Oh, hey Twilight.”
“Scootaloo, what happened?” She took a few steps closer in worry.
“Eh, I just, uh, crashed.” Scootaloo answered, wiping dirt from her face.
From the look on Twilight’s face, she wasn’t fully convinced. “Well… would you like to come in and have some tea?”
Scootaloo quirked an eyebrow at that, not helped by Twilight sounding unsure of herself. All the same, after what had just occurred, Scootaloo felt the offer was one of safety. “Um, yeah, sure.” The young pegasus picked herself up, pausing only to retrieve her slightly battered scooter, and lean it up against the Library tree.
As the two entered Twilight quickly entered a side room, and exited just as quickly with two fresh cups of tea in her magical grasp. Scootaloo looked around the book laden interior a bit before asking, “So, where’s Spike?”
“He’s still sleeping.” Twilight answered, simply.
Scootaloo lightly scuffed at the ground, reminded of the early hour she had inadvertently left at. “Ah, I didn’t wake ya, did I?”
Twilight chuckled and set the cups down on a table, motioning Scootaloo to join her there. “Oh, no. Some days I just find myself awake earlier than others. I like to take advantage of it and get some extra reading in. As much as I love my friends they sometimes take up all my time.” Despite the light critique of her friends, Twilight’s words held only warmth for them.
Scootaloo felt a bit better, hearing such warmth amid Twilight’s words, and joined the unicorn at the table. She didn’t immediately try the tea. Not yet, she thought.
Before Scootaloo could think of something to say, to distract herself from the cause of her morning dilemma, Twilight spoke first. “So, what were you doing out so early Scootaloo? What made you crash?”
Scootaloo diverted her gaze, pondering what she could say to such questions. “Uh, I was just… thinking.”
Twilight blinked. “Thinking? Do you think by yelling?” She asked while sipping her tea.
Scootaloo’s ear flicked. Where a question like that would usually be sarcastic, Scootaloo could tell Twilight was genuine in her question. She couldn’t bring herself to lie entirely. “Well, sometimes. This time.”
Twilight hummed as her lips parted from her cup followed by a light chuckle. “I do that too sometimes. I think it actually helps me with my thoughts at times.” She squinted her eyes in thought and appeared to ramble, “Hmm, I really should test that. Would be interesting to see the data an-”
Scootaloo looked unimpressed as Twilight traveled down that train of thought, although the attention being taken off the target of her yelling was nice. She rolled her eyes and looked toward her own cup of tea, debating on whether or not to drink some. The opportunity to have tea didn’t exactly come around everyday, but at the same time she didn’t find leaf water all that interesting as a unique experience.
“-ility, but that’s for later. Would you like to talk about it Scootaloo?"
The pegasus blinked, having not paid attention to the rambling she felt caught off guard. “Uh, talk about what?”
Twilight took another sip. “Talk about the thought process that led to you yelling. If it’s enough to have you saying it out loud, maybe saying it to somepony might help you, with whatever it is.”
Scootaloo shifted uncomfortably under the attention. It wasn’t the attention she was used to, the attention she usually bathed in to force the figure away. It was attention that was pointed squarely at the figure, and that dug under her skin almost as much as the figure itself. “Uh, w-well you know, it’s… it’s alot.” She finally settled on.
Twilight gave the young filly a comforting smile, and said, “If it’s alot, then more than one pony could really help. If you want to, that is.” She attempted to sip at her tea once more, only to find it barren. “Huh? I could have sworn- oh, no bother. Excuse me, Scootaloo, I’m gonna grab some more tea while you think, okay?”
Scootaloo nodded, liking the thought of thinking without Twilight right there, waiting for an answer. Twilight smiled again, and left towards the kitchen as Scootaloo let Twilight’s words tumble through her mind. The way Twilight spoke made Scootaloo think if she should talk to Twilight about… it. The instinctual hesitancy was there, but the idea of facing the figure with somepony else started to feel like a good idea.
In but a moment her breath caught in her throat as the head of the blackened figure leaned into her view. It hummed contemplatively as it lifted her tea cup with stiff, thin appendages. “She really does seem like she wants to help, doesn’t she Little Bird? But, that’s how it all starts. Before they learn who you are.” She stared in frightened awe as it appeared to sip from the cup. The well made white contrasting harshly against the pitch black teeth that carelessly dug into its surface. She shook her head, refusing to be suckered by another of the figure’s attempts to screw with her. “Chamomile. Acquired taste if you ask me. Much like yourself. Only better. This has some upsides.”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes and tried to even out her breathing. “Wrong. You're wrong.” She whispered to herself.
“Say what you will.” It rumbled. “But tomorrow will tell the story. It always will. You will fail. They’ll finally see through you, whether you tell or not. You will hold your so called friends back, until you are left alone. As you deserve.” She refused to look at the thing again, only seeing the cup gently placed upon its plate, accompanied by the sound of a dry cracking from the figure’s head.
The sound of Twilight coming from the kitchen forced a sigh from Scootaloo’s lips, thoughts swirling ever more. The unicorn trotted into view with an awkward smile, and filled tea cup. “Sorry for the wait there. It kinda took longer than I thought. Oh.” Her smile become considerably less awkward as she sat down. “I’m glad to see you enjoyed the tea Scootaloo.”
Never before had such friendly words struck such fear into Scootaloo’s frame. It had never done something like that before. It never touched anything, moved anything, much less leave an impact noticed by somepony else. She never quite knew what it was, what it could do, but, the tea had to have gone somewhere, she rationalized.
Twilight seemed to interpret Scootaloo’s emotions as something else, however. “It’s okay Scootaloo. If you’re not ready right now, you can tell me tomorrow, or the day after that, or after that. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here to lend an ear. Or the Crusaders, or Rarity, Applejack, maybe even Rainbow Dash. I care about you, and I’m sure they do too.”
The fear slowly was being drained, replaced by something else Scootaloo couldn’t quite tell. She could even ignore the sound behind her. She searched her mind, wondering what to do, what to say. Uncertainty dominating everything.
Twilight glanced towards a clock and hummed. “Hmm, time sure flies. I don’t want to keep you longer than you’re comfortable Scootaloo, so if that’s-”
“Wait!” Scootaloo almost slammed on the table. “I-I think I wanna tell you.”
Twilight smiled widely and the words. “Oh! Great! Well, uh, whenever you’re ready.” She prompted.
Adrenaline pounded through her body as a smile adorned her face. She was actually going to do it. Somepony was going to help. She lightly berated herself for never turning to somepony -her friends- before. It was like a door was opened before her, shining bright light into her view. She finally felt free of her fear.
And then the figure’s face leaned into view.
Scootaloo froze, her smile paralyzed on her face. The figure shouldn’t do that. It couldn’t do that. It never showed up in front of other ponies. Ever. And yet Twilight didn’t seem to notice, only a tad bit fidgety, waiting for Scootaloo to open up.
The figure was different as well. What looked like twin, dying suns laid within its hollow eye sockets. Too far into its skull to seem possible. The light pouring from its hollow eyes was enough to shed light the craggy ridges of its bone dry, charcoal skin. The added detail being far worse than the unknown Scootaloo was used to. “Yeah, Scoots. Whenever you’re ready.” It clacked, a harsh whistle upon its breath.
She tried her best to not hyperventilate, to not shake. Wrenching her eyes from the figure, she looked to Twilight, it always still in view. Smiling. Waiting in divine anticipation.
She finally moved, licked her lips, she opened her mouth, ready to tell Twilight everything.
The Demon’s smile stretched wider than possible, and began to shake violently.
She was ready to walk through that door.
