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The stiff, cold winds of a dark winter's night blew around the Ponyville Hospital and pulled with all their might at the windows and shutters. Scootaloo couldn't sleep and so she turned her head at the window in her room and watched the lights outside and listened to the gusts. There were two kinds of light; some farther away and another one near the window, but only a faint glow.
The first kind were the lights of houses in the distance, decorated houses, Hearth's Warming lights filling up the nightly darkness and putting warm feelings into the hearts of those who trotted past them. Scootaloo was being given a bed on the third floor when she came into the hospital a few days ago, so she could see pretty far. Some specks of light at the edges of the window even looked like they could be from the great Hearth's Warming Tree on the plaza right next to the townhall. Scootaloo closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head in defeat.
The other light, the faint one, came from the hospital's own holiday decorations. They were spun around, above and under the windows. These lights were only visible from the outside, but a bit of their glow found its way onto the windowsill.
Scootaloo wasn't sick, like some ponies tended to get at this time of year, victims of the chill wind she could hear outside right now. But she couldn't help riding her scooter at any time of the year, stunts included, even when the ground was slippery and frozen and when it was not recommended to even use her scooter to buy some bread for breakfast at Sugarcube Corner. Maybe doing that alone wouldn't have led to a catastrophe just yet, Scootaloo surmised, but using the short distance between her house and the bakery for some quick practice and doing three backflips while she kept standing on her scooter, least trying to, sure did. Her aunts had warned her of riding her scooter on ice, but she was Scootaloo. Of course she didn't listen.
Scootaloo sighed again, eyes fixated on the pretty, festive lights of Ponyville. Now her hindlegs were in a less than practical condition, not to mention a healthy one. They weren't broken, thank Luna, but she had sustained gashes and contusions all over them. Scootaloo couldn't tell how. She had done this before and even though she sometimes crashed, it had never been that bad. There wasn't even anything nearby she could have fallen onto with her hindlegs, only her scooter, the ice under the wheels and the street. Her mind was drawing a blank trying to figure out how she could have fallen that badly. The doctors said that the impact wiped her memory of this moment. According to her aunts, she had been screaming and crying in pain and was shocked from seeing all the blood that left her legs at once, but the day had a hole there. She couldn't remember anything. Not uncommon, the doctors said. And that it was a miracle that her head didn't get hurt. Leaving her helmet at home was another mistake she made. One she wouldn't make again, she had sworn to herself.
But all the promises and the good resolutions to be more careful from now on didn't help her current situation. The accident had happened, she had gotten severely injured and now she was in the hospital. A few days before Hearth's Warming Eve. And the prognosis of the doctor was that she would have to stay here over the holidays and even past them. With some luck, they said, she could celebrate New Year's Eve at home. But still only from her bed and she still would have to take medication to help the recovery process of her legs. All of this sucked. She mad maneuvered herself into the worst Hearth's Warming Eve she'd ever spent in the nine years of her life.
A few tears collected in Scootaloo's eyes as she kept staring at the lights in the distance, her heart longing to be there, but she blinked them away. Then she sniffed and wiped a hoof over her nose. Afterwards it was messy, but Scootaloo shrugged and wiped it off on her blanket. The nurses should take care of that. This would be the worst Hearth's Warming holiday in her life, even with her aunts coming for a visit to bring her gifts and cookies, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle visiting her every day and Rainbow Dash at least as often as she could with her weather team duties, so snot on the pure, white blanket and a nurse scolding her was the least of Scootaloo's worries.
On top of everything, Scootaloo couldn't leave the bed and that was probably the worst of it. A filly like her couldn't lie still for days. She needed to move. She needed exercise. Training. She was okay with not riding her scooter for a couple days, but not able to trot? This was crossing a red line in Scootaloo's lifestyle and she couldn't bear it. She couldn't even go to the toilet and that was as embarrassing as it was disgusting. There were days when she had problems to sit still long enough for a round of a board game to finish, when she had to get up and pace the room during the turns of her friends. So how would she survive lying in bed all day long? It was unthinkable. A nightmare that became alive to haunt her.
The only good thing was that she was alone in her room. The other beds to her left and right and opposite of her were empty. Ponyville Hospital had a pretty straightforward way to fill up its beds with patients, it went from bottom floor to top floor, a simple method for a a simple hospital in a simple, little town. The first floor and the second floor were full, mostly old ponies and some with the flu, and a few others who sustained skiing accidents, and so they had just begun with filling up the beds on the third floor. She was alone up here. Or, so it felt at least.
There was one bed, opposite and to the left of her own, near the door that led onto the little balcony, that was a bit of a mystery. The green curtain around it was always closed. She never saw a pony behind it, even though the nurse came a few times during the day and disappeared behind the curtain, only to come out again a few minutes later. There was always a very concerned look on her face when she left the room again. But Scootaloo never heard any sounds, if there really was another patient behind that curtain, then they were always quiet, so at least it felt like she was alone in here. She didn't have to put up with old stallions who snored the entire night or ponies with broken legs who whimpered in pain throughout the day. This was the only good news. There was peace here.
But suddenly, when Scootaloo just began to take solace in the one good thing she had, this peace was interrupted. The green curtain rustled slightly, like the bed behind it had involuntarily moved, and then she heard somepony. Crying filled the air of the hospital room, first faint, then gradually louder, but never reaching a deafening or annoying volume. In fact, it made Scootaloo feel strangely warm inside, the cries made her sad, but also comforted her somehow. She had never felt something like this before.
Scootaloo listened to the cries, forehooves crossed behind her head, and she felt like crying herself all of a sudden. A high voice was behind the cries, tender and fragile, and it pierced Scootaloo's heart just as it pierced the darkness. There was another filly behind this curtain, probably trapped in the same, miserable situation like she found herself in, Scootaloo figured, but perhaps younger than her.
“Hey, you're alright?” Scootaloo asked into the darkness as she couldn't take the sadness filling up her heart anymore.
The other filly gasped, her crying stopped and there was silence for a few seconds. Then the crying picked up again, but much quieter than before. Suddenly, Scootaloo got the feeling that her intervention and care, her empathy with the sad, little patient, was not wanted. That it was undesired even. This feeling permeated the room like there was something that made the air thicker and heavier. She didn't dare to ask again, nor did it feel like she would get an answer, but Scootaloo decided to ask the nurse on the next day. Turning her head away from the window, she closed her eyes in the hopes to finally get some sleep. The low crying helped with that, it put Scootaloo into a deep slumber like the saddest lullaby she had ever heard.
On the next morning, Scootaloo wasted no time. Her curiosity had reached great heights by the time Nurse Redheart brought her breakfast. Before she could leave the room again, Scootaloo asked about the filly behind the curtain who she'd heard crying at night.
“Nurse Redheart?”
“Yes?” the white nurse with the pink mane stopped in her tracks. “Is there anything else you need?” She looked tired.
“Who is the pony behind the curtain?” Scootaloo came straight to the point.
“Oh, you mean, over there?” Nurse Redheart turned at the green curtain that concealed the bed and the patient in it from her view ever since she was brought in.
“Yeah. Who is she? I heard her cry,” Scootaloo explained.
“Oh, she was?” Nurse Redheart frowned. “When did you hear her cry?”
“At night. She's been completely quiet the entire day, but at night, she suddenly cried.”
The frown in the nurse's face got a little darker. “She is our youngest patient right now. Poor thing has to spend the holidays in the hospital, like you, she caught bacterial pneumonia during a trip to Ponyville, but her parents are all the way over in Manehattan and they can't be here to visit her.”
“Why not?” Now it was Scootaloo who frowned. There was only one thing that was worse than spending Hearth's Warming Eve in a hospital bed and that was spending Hearth's Warming Eve in a hospital bed without friends and family. “Shouldn't they be here for their daughter to make it easier for her?” Scootaloo directed her eyes at the curtain, as if she wanted to underline the importance of her words, sadness and empathy radiating from them.
“Oh, trust me, they've tried,” she reassured Scootaloo. “But they can't stay overnight, they don't know any ponies here and without a hotel in Ponyville, there's no way how they could pay for a room until their daughter has recovered. They asked about sleeping in the hospital, but unfortunately, we need the remaining beds in case there are emergencies, so we had to decline their request.”
“What about the train?” Scootaloo asked. “The ride only takes a few hours between Manehattan and Ponyville.”
Nurse Redheart heaved a sigh. “That's what their plan was, but now there is a snowstorm halfway between Manehattan and here and the train tracks are buried under a mountain of snow. And it's hard to find ponies who want to help removing the snow so close to Hearth's Warming Eve.” The nurse's ears lowered themselves. “She worries all of us a bit, she insisted that the curtain stays around her bed and since yesterday, when she got the bad news that her parents can't come, she refuses to eat. If she doesn't eat anything today, we'll have to drip-feed her.”
Scootaloo's ears lowered, as well, now. Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew wider.
The nurse sighed again. “Yes, it's bad,” she acknowledged Scootaloo's reaction. “But don't worry too much about our little patient. We are equipped for situations like that, she will be fine after the holidays.” She cast away her own worries and formed a smile with her lips. “Just eat now. You'll need the energy, too, and we have everything under control here, Scootaloo.”
“Um-hm.” Scootaloo's eyes sunk down at her food and she grabbed the first piece that came into her reach and bit into it, more absentmindedly than demonstratively. Scootaloo chewed, quietly.
The nurse's smile rested on Scootaloo for a few seconds longer, then she left the room, happy that at least one of the patients in this room was willing to work on her recovery.
The days passed and before it was Hearth's Warming Eve, the bitter prediction by Nurse Redheart became true. When the nurse came back to remove the empty tray from Scootaloo's breakfast, she also carried a full tray with completely untouched food out of the room. Scootaloo watched her do that with a grim look, one that couldn't match the look on Nurse Redheart's face, but regardless, she was worried for the other filly. The same happened at lunch and at dinner. A full tray in, a full tray out. The pattern began to repeat itself at the next breakfast and so, two days before Hearth's Warming Eve, the filly behind the curtain was on the drip.
There had been a struggle, screaming and shouting and a tantrum, when the doctor and two of the nurses came into the room with the last possible solution to feed her. A tantrum that Scootaloo understood all too well. Afterwards, the nurses looked like they had become ten years older; thick, dark bags under their eyes and dragging steps when they left the room again. Only the doctor looked like it hadn't phased him, the cold professionalism in his eyes prevailed, but his face still didn't look happy.
After that, it was eerie silence. Something from the forceful treatment and the struggle remained lingering, thick and heavy. So far, the days here in the hospital had at least been peaceful. But now there was an aura of stress in the air.
The day after next brought a Hearth's Warming miracle for Scootaloo. The doctor came into her room, checked her wounds, swapped her bandages and then concluded that everything had healed enough for her to leave the bed. She still wasn't allowed to go far, but now she could at least move around in the room and use the toilet. The doctor had also reaffirmed that she could be home for New Year's Eve, at least. With some luck, a day earlier. Scootaloo's heart had rejoiced.
There was no good news for the poor filly who was her roommate, though. Another inquiry made by her revealed to Scootaloo that the train tracks were still covered in too much snow for the train to get through. Her nightly cries had continued and since she was on the drip, she had been crying during the day too. Only when one of the nurses or the doctor entered, she quickly fell silent, only to continue right away when she and Scootaloo were alone again. Scootaloo had asked the filly if she was okay a few more times, but she still only received silence and more crying as responses.
Scootaloo kept feeling sad by the filly's fate, but most importantly, she felt silly over her own mournings from a few days ago. She had seen her two best friends today, Rainbow Dash and her aunts, all of them bringing presents, but this filly had nopony to visit her, no company on the holidays. She was alone in a town she didn't know, in a hospital that wasn't her home, in a bed that wasn't her own. All of a sudden, her own plight felt insignificant to Scootaloo. And there had to be a way to help this filly.
The first thing Scootaloo did after her friends, her aunts and Rainbow Dash had said goodbye at the end of the visiting hours, was to leave her bed and to trot over to the bed of the poor, lonely filly. There was still some time before dinner would be served today. Scootaloo pulled the green plastic curtain to the side and saw the filly for the first time. She was lying flat on her back, blanket kicked off and revealing a seapink chest. Her skyblue eyes stared at the ceiling from a cold, hard face. A tube was entering her left foreleg just beneath the hoof, coming from a plastic bag that hung above the bed and fixated with medical tape. A clear liquid was trickling through the tube. The younger filly didn't pay Scootaloo any attention, but she acknowledged her presence with a simple “Go away”.
Scootaloo wasn't thinking of leaving, but it was an awkward moment and she suddenly didn't know what to say to the filly. The rejection from a few nights ago, when she asked her if she was alright, entered her mind. After a few seconds of silent pondering, Scootaloo decided to let a gesture speak instead. She grabbed the mussed up, white hospital blanket and pulled it over the filly's chest. And with that gesture, Scootaloo suddenly had words come to her.
“Nurse Redheart said you have pneumonia, it's warm in here, but you should still cover yourself up.”
But after that, the words dried up again and Scootaloo was as clueless about what to say as before. The young filly, however, found very clear words to express how she felt.
“I SAID GO AWAY!” Her voice was almost a shriek.
It didn't do her any good. After the last word had left her lips, her face twisted, she sat up and erupted into a long and loud coughing fit. The filly gripped her chest tightly with both forehooves and barked like an old, chain-smoking mare. Scootaloo figured that the nurse who was on duty on this floor of the hospital had to hear her, as well, but there were no hoofsteps on the floor. Tears emerged in the corner of the filly's eyes.
Not sure what to do, Scootaloo stroke the filly's mane with one hoof, attempting to make the bad cough a little easier on her. She pondered calling the nurse, when the fit began to cease and the coughs of the filly became quieter. When it was over, she exhaled sharply and started to pant. Then she lied down again, now noticeably weaker than before. Scootaloo grabbed the blanket again and pulled it back up, but the filly snatched it out of her hooves.
“Go away,” she repeated. Her voice was a rasp now. The filly pulled the blanket over her head.
“I'm just trying to help. You don't have to be scared,” Scootaloo said, hoping that she found the right words. She reached out with one hoof and stroke the filly's mane, that poked out from under the blanket, again. But the filly grumbled and moved her head away, deeper under the blanket. Unsure what to do now, Scootaloo only stared at the white blanket that blocked the filly from her view for a couple seconds. Then she stepped away with an unhappy look in her face, pulled the curtain back into its former position and climbed back into her own bed.
A few minutes later it was time for dinner and Nurse Redheart brought an extra festive meal. Stuffed mushrooms, with breadcrumbs, garlic and cream cheese. The tray was even decorated with small, red ribbons and a fir branch. Scootaloo wondered who of the hospital staff had collected the latter. It was extra work and that happened only because Ponyville was a small countryside town. Nopony would do this in one of the hospitals in Manehattan or Fillydelphia, she figured. Scootaloo picked up the fork, pierced through the first of the many mushrooms and brought it up to her mouth, water already collecting in it, but then lowered the fork again before she could take a bite.
Scootaloo looked over to the green curtain the filly was hiding behind. They hadn't brought her food anymore since they've hung her onto the drip two days ago. Not even today, on Hearth's Warming Eve. The drip-feed was enough, she guessed, but wasn't it still unfair? Scootaloo found herself silently judging Nurse Redheart and the doctor. Sure, they were stressed, and probably none of them enjoyed working on the holidays. But couldn't they at least keep trying?
Scootaloo picked up her fork again and finally put the stuffed mushroom into her mouth, but she chewed it only slowly. “So, what's your favourite food?” she asked into the direction of the younger filly who didn't want to be seen. Food was always good to strike up a conversation, wasn't it?
Rustling came from behind the curtain, but no answer. Scootaloo heard the filly sniff, then there was silence again.
“They brought stuffed mushrooms for holiday dinner tonight,” Scootaloo continued, poking a hole in the silence. “Did you ever have stuffed mushrooms? I didn't, but I like them.” She forked up a second one and stuck it into her mouth.
The filly sniffed again.
Following a hunch, Scootaloo said “I bet you can smell them over there.”
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the filly did another sniff, hesitantly this time.
She got it. That last sniff was the confirmation. Her roommate wasn't at the verge of crying, she was savouring the food whose smell permeated the entire room. Scootaloo applied more pressure right there, beginning to widen the hole in the silence.
“You know, I really think they could have brought you some of that, too. Just because you are on the drip doesn't mean you wouldn't like to have a nice holiday dinner.”
The curtain moved, then stopped again.
“It's unfair. Your body has everything it needs, but what about your mind? Holiday food is fun, they shouldn't deny you that. They could at least give you a chance to eat it, if you don't want it then, they can still it eat themselves, after all. It's cruel to deny a hospital patient who has to stay over the holidays their festive dinner.” Scootaloo popped the next mushroom into her mouth and this time, she crunched down on it extra loudly.
The filly behind the curtain swallowed. It was more of a gulp, actually, that's how Scootaloo had to describe it based on the volume and intensity of the sound. A few seconds later, a low voice slipped through the hole in the silence. “C-Can I have some?”
Scootaloo thought she could hear the water in the mouth of the other filly. She grinned. “Sure! I don't even think I can eat that much all by myself.” That was a lie, the mushrooms were tasty, she could snack away at them for the whole night if the nurses would bring her enough. But Scootaloo was worried the filly could look through her carefully set up, delicious food trap and change her mind, now that she only started to open up.
Scootaloo carefully slipped out from under her blanket and the tray that stood above it and touched the floor with her hooves. Not wanting to put too much weight onto her bandaged hindlegs, she lifted the tray onto her back before she motioned over to the bed of the younger filly. As she had pulled away the curtain and their faces met, the filly looked away quickly. She did not hide under the blanket again, however.
Only now, in a more peaceful moment that allowed Scootaloo to observe the other filly better, she noticed how small she was. She was sitting upright, but that did nothing to make her look any bigger. Five years old, Scootaloo estimated. Maybe four, if she took into account that size wasn't the only factor in determining a foal's age, but definitely not older than six. She also was an earth pony, not distracted by a brutal coughing fit anymore, Scootaloo could see that as well now. The filly was wearing a pout on her face, but thankfully nothing of the aggression and anger from earlier was visible in it anymore.
Scootaloo placed the tray on her lap, with the gentle care that a filly sick with pneumonia needed, and waited for a reaction. None came. She had expected the filly to pick up the fork and take a bite from one of the mushrooms, but the younger patient only kept sitting stiff with that pout on her face, not looking at her. Eventually, Scootaloo grabbed the fork herself, pierced it into a mushroom and lifted it up. She felt silly for what she was about to do, embarrassed even, but making everything a little bit more playful could help with getting a young foal to eat, that was common knowledge enough for her to know it despite the fact that she didn't have any younger siblings.
She moved the fork through the air in front of the filly's face, let it fly a few curves and do some loopings, before she aimed for the filly's mouth. “Here comes the, uh, pirate airship, ready to raid the dock, no taste buds are safe!”
A bright-red blush shimmered through the pink coat hairs in the face of the filly, her pupils shrunk and she scrunched her face, showing her teeth. “Stop, I'm too old for this!” she yelled. But she opened her mouth, the appetite prevailing.
Scootaloo put the fork into the eagerly waiting mouth of the filly and retreated it again once she felt that the tiny teeth had pulled the mushroom off. It was almost too big for the filly's mouth, but her teeth wrestled with the piece like a champ and slowly tore it apart. The pout returned into her face after her embarrassed reaction had ceased, but it gradually disappeared the longer the filly chewed on the delicious treat. After swallowing, the pout turned into a smile.
“More!” she demanded, forgetting all etiquette and politeness.
Scootaloo was the last one who would have minded. She obeyed diligently, forking up another mushroom and letting it glide into the filly's mouth, this time without a silly game. The filly acknowledged that. “That's better,” she said, nodding and chewing. “I'm a big filly, I'm already five years old, I don't need a game to eat.
Not a game, just four days without any food, the thought crossed Scootaloo's mind in response to how that mature statement contradicted her behavior during the past few days, but she didn't voice it. It would come across the wrong way and ruin the progress she'd made.
A third of the stuffed mushrooms was delivered into the other filly's mouth, then Scootaloo spoiled herself to another one. The two of them ate up the remaining five mushrooms, alternating between them, until the plate was empty.
Between the eighth and ninth mushroom, Scootaloo asked “How is your name?”. Surprise flooded her when she realized that neither the nurses nor the doctor had ever said the filly's name when they came into the room. She wasn't exactly sure if she had simply missed hearing it, though.
“Rosy,” the filly answered. There was a grumpy tone in her voice again now, but her chewing quickly drowned it out.
“Hey, that's a nice name!” Scootaloo made Rosy a compliment, tawing the ice further. “And I'm Scootaloo!”
“Hi. Scootaloo.” Rosy spoke taut and tight-lipped, but she couldn't hide a small smile creeping onto her face.
After their shared meal was over, both of them fell silent for a few minutes. It was one of those awkward “Now what?” moments and neither Scootaloo nor Rosy felt comfortable with it. This time, it was Rosy who broke the silence before it closed the hole again.
Rosy looked up from the empty plate, her eyes aimlessly wandering around the room, until they rested on the pile of presents that were towering on the nightstand next to Scootaloo's bed. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had brought one each, so had Rainbow Dash, and her aunts had brought about a dozen presents at once. Scootaloo often thought they were more like grandmothers than aunts, with how much they spoiled her all the time. Now Rosy was staring at that pile, eyes growing huge in an attempt to take it all in. “You got gifts.....” she pressed out between her lips. Rosy gulped. Her head began to tremble slightly, her lip quivered. She sniffed and then tears rolled down her face. Rosy covered her eyes with her forehooves and cried, with no restraint. “You got gifts and I d-didn't.....” Her entire body was shaking now.
Instinctively, Scootaloo reached out a forehoof and stroke Rosy's back. “Hey, it's okay, Rosy. Your parents bought lots of presents, I'm sure, and when you're back home, you'll get them all.” The reassurance was her first reaction, but of course it wasn't enough.
“B-But n-not n-now.....” the other filly wailed.
Rosy's sobbing filled the room and Scootaloo felt once more silly. Her eyes got drawn to the pile of presents her aunts, her friends and her big sister had left here. There she had been a few days ago, mourning to herself about having to spend Hearth's Warming Eve in the hospital because of her own recklessness. All while there was a filly who had it much worse in the same room with her. She had gotten daily visits by her friends. A Hearth's Warming visit by her aunts. A few visits by Rainbow Dash. Cookies and a pile of presents. And Rosy had gotten nothing. No presents, no cookies and, most importantly, no visits of friends and family. Not even a holiday dinner, if it hadn't been for her intervention. She had everything and Rosy had nothing. It wasn't fair.
Scootaloo picked up the tray, not before placing the fir branch and the little, red ribbons on Rosy's nightstand, and carried it back over to her own bed. Next she balanced the presents on her back, always two or three at once, and placed them into the younger filly's bed, all around her and only the lighter ones in her lap.
At first, Rosy didn't take notice. Only as the last present had been placed in her bed, she removed her hooves from her eyes and held them in front of her chest like she was keeping herself prepared to cry again at any moment. She looked at the presents in disbelief; mouth half open, her bottom lip quivering and tears still leaking from her eyes, then up at Scootaloo. “B-But..... these are your presents.” Rosy sniffed.
“We share!” Scootaloo proclaimed. She gave Rosy a wide smile, eyes closed.
“But.....” Rosy lowered her forehooves and rested them on the blanket, in a tiny, free space between the presents. She didn't know how to continue the sentence.
“I got fifteen presents this year,” Scootaloo explained. “We open them together and if there's something you like a lot, you can keep it, Rosy. My aunts, my friends and my big sister will understand.”
Rosy stared at Scootaloo, looked down at the presents again, then back up at Scootaloo. New tears welled up in her eyes. She began to stammer, something that could have been a thank you, but she didn't quite manage to form the words with her lips. Instead, she leaned forward and wrapped her forehooves around Scootaloo and leaned her face against her cheek, soaking it with her tears. Eyes closed, she cried silently.
Scootaloo sat down on the edge of Rosy's bed and for the next thirty minutes, the two fillies were busy unwrapping and unpacking the presents Scootaloo had gotten. Wrapping paper in all colors soon covered Rosy's bed and the floor. And when the thirty minutes were over, Rosy found herself surrounded by a richness of toys, books, cookies, sweets and many other things. She held up her forehooves and squeezed her cheeks, all tears dried now and her eyes, instead of sadness, radiating an enthusiastic and overjoyed sensation over everything she saw.
Rosy had especially taken interest in a Spitfire action figure, which was among the presents from Scootaloo's aunts. It came with fully poseable legs and wings, spoke three different lines and even had a tiny motor on the back that allowed it to fly, with a motion sensor to detect obstacles and the ability to dodge them on its own. Its battery lasted for twenty minutes in flying mode. The best that Equestria's toy market had to offer this holiday season and with no doubt a very expensive toy.
Rosy held the Spitfire figure with her right hoof and let it glide above her bed and around Scootaloo, giggling loudly while enacting loopings and other stunts with the figure or letting it race in circles. “Fire is my friend!” Spitfire shouted as Rosy pressed one of the buttons on her stomach.
When Nurse Redheart entered the room a few minutes later to pick up Scootaloo's empty tray and to bring a small dessert as a surprise holiday treat, she got startled by a yellow plastic pony flying at her, shouting “You think you're hot stuff?”, and steering away only inches in front of her face. The nurse flinched back into the corridor a little and nearly dropped the dessert. The sight in front of her when she looked into the room again, however, eased her drumming heart again quickly.
The nurse came closer and placed the dessert on Rosy's nightstand, an ever-growing smile on her lips. “Now look at this,” she spoke to nopony in particular. “Are you not sad anymore?” she asked Rosy full of astonishment.
“Uh-uh!” Rosy shook her head to emphasize her response. Her glowing eyes followed Spitfire around the room.
“How did this happen?” Nurse Redheart asked, the sudden change in Rosy's demeanor and mood almost making her feel out of breath.
“Oh, nothing much,” Scootaloo casually waved off the surprise. “Just a bit of food and talking. Opening presents helped, too.” She grinned at the nurse, taking enjoyment in the confusion and disbelief that was in her face.
“Rosy ate something?!” Now the mouth of the nurse fell open, which did nothing to wash away the smug grin on Scootaloo's face.
“Yep!” Scootaloo confirmed. “I shared my dinner with her and she had a great appetite!”
“Well, in that case,” Nurse Redheart spoke “I suppose I'll get another spoon.” She turned around and teetered out of the room.
Nurse Redheart returned with the spoon for Rosy, then left again quickly, and the two fillies sat together alone and ready to share Scootaloo's dessert as well. Scootaloo picked Spitfire out of the air, turned off the motor and placed her in Rosy's lap, so that she was leaning against her belly. “So, this present is for you then, because you like her so much. Happy Hearth's Warming Eve, Rosy.”
Rosy gave Scootaloo the cutest, satisfied smile a little filly like her could do. “Happy Hearth's Warming Eve, Scootaloo! You are the best!” She leaned in and placed a kiss on Scootaloo's cheek. Then both of them readied their spoons and dug into their holiday dessert pudding.
The prognosis of the doctor changed in Scootaloo's favor. Two days before New Year's Eve, she could leave the hospital. One day later, it was Rosy's turn to do the same. Her parents still weren't here, the work on freeing the train tracks between Manehattan and Ponyville from ice and snow had finally begun after the Hearth's Warming festivities, but wasn't finished yet. After everything that happened, however, it was only natural that Scootaloo invited Rosy to stay in her house until the arrival of her parents.
The address of Rosy's new, temporary residence in Ponyville was deposited with the hospital staff and so, Scootaloo and Rosy, together with Scootaloo's aunts, celebrated a joyous and merry start into the new year together.
When the train route was finally cleared for passenger transport and Rosy's parents arrived at Scootaloo's house to reunite with their daughter, Scootaloo's injuries had healed enough for her to permanently leave bed and so, Scootaloo was able to accompany Rosy to the train station and to see her off at the day of her departure.
“And you really can't come with me?” Rosy asked, making a long face and mewling the question more than she was speaking it.
Scootaloo chuckled. “Unfortunately, no, I have to stay here, Rosy.”
“Awwwwww..... But you are like my big sister now, Scootaloo!” Rosy's face became even longer.
“But I will write you, Rosy,” Scootaloo reassured her, unable to fulfill Rosy's wish, that basically amounted to jumping into the train, moving in with her and her parents and starting a new life in Manehattan. “And we will see us whenever Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and I visit Apple Bloom's cousin. Do you still have Babs' address?”
“Um-hm!” Rosy's head bobbed up and down. “It's in my backpack. Do you promise?” she asked.
“Yeah!” Scootaloo said. “Whenever there is something exciting to tell, I'll sit down and write a letter to let you know about it, Rosy.”
Now the dissatisfaction in Rosy's face vanished. “Thank you, Scootaloo!” she shouted and crushed the older filly with a hug. Scootaloo reciprocated the gesture with a tight embrace of her own.
The conductor called the departure of the train to Manehattan. “Rosy, it's time for us to get into the train,” Rosy's dad alerted her, trying to break up the intimate hug as gentle as possible.
Rosy let go of Scootaloo only reluctantly, but listened. “Bye, Scootaloo!” she spoke as she released the hug. “Please write soon!” Then she turned around and skipped into the train, her parents following closely after. “I have a sister now, mommy!” Scootaloo heard her chipper voice before the doors of the train closed.
Rosy appeared at the window right next to the door and waved at Scootaloo with eagerness. Scootaloo did the same and the two fillies kept waving until they had lost sight of each other.
Scootaloo brought her hoof back onto the wood of the platform. “Big sister,” she muttered. “Doesn't sound too bad, if I think about it.” A smile built on her face as she gave the train a last look before turning around to go home.
“I'm a big sister.”
.
Author's Note
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