It had been a leap of faith.
One final act of defiance, with only two possible outcomes: either Scootaloo would fly, or she would fall. And upon her cliffside perch, where nopony could judge her? There was a sense of liberation in her choice. Pure, unadulterated freedom, like the roving packs of clouds drifting lazily above or the flocks of birds flying into the deep blue horizon.
And for a fleeting moment, Scootaloo felt a surge of exhilaration as the world dropped away beneath her.
“I’m doing it!” Scootaloo’s voice reverberated outward into the winding gorge, and a rushing gust of air tousled her mane and ruffled her fur like a proud parent. “Guys! See! See! I’m really doing it!”
With each beat of her wings, Scootaloo felt the air’s resistance against her delicate plumage, and yet still she was propelling herself upward. She was more than just flying—she was dancing, and the air currents danced with her, while Celestia’s golden sun painted her wings with a warm, golden glow.
She sped forth, slicing through the air, and her mind raced with it. It was here that she finally understood why Rainbow always yearned for the sky—why she always pushed herself to the absolute limits. There was a serenity here, a sensation that being earthbound could never replicate.
Up in the heavens above, there was no problem Scootaloo couldn’t outrun.
Heart pounding, she craned her neck upward… and noticed the clouds rapidly drifting out of reach.
“What?”
Scootaloo’s feathers trembled, unable to fight against the air current’s strain, and the same winds that had once lifted her now forced her into a downward spiral as if mocking her ambitions. Flap. Flap. Her tightened stomach dropped like a stone.
“Wait! No. No no-” Gentle strokes turned to desperate flutters.
Runt. Weakling. Chicken. A whirlwind of voices roared in her ears as gravity seized hold of her, pulling her inexorably downward.
Rust, ochre, mossy green—the winding cliffs below her meshed into a horrifying, blurry kaleidoscope of color. Scootaloo screamed.
But just as she squeezed her eyes shut, everything stopped. The voices, the howling tempest, her cries of terror. It was as if something had halted the unending march of time itself.
“Have no fear, child. You are safe.”
“Princess Luna?” Scootaloo fumbles in the tightening grip, her balance lost as she falls backward into a blanket of grass. “W-what are you doing here?”
“We are in your dreamscape, little one,” Luna said, releasing Scootaloo from her tentative embrace.
“...Then,” Scootaloo peers outward into the expanse around her, “None of this was real? I- I didn’t…”
“You are safe in your bed,” Luna said before she sat beside her.
Scootaloo sighed, unable to hide her downcast expression.
“What ails you this night?”
“Isn’t it obvious, princess?” Scootaloo’s tiny wings shuffled against her back.
“Humor me.”
Scootaloo swept her gaze across the canyon and upward into the deep blue, unable to banish the longing eating away at her insides.
“I can’t ever do anything right,” Scootalo said. It was the simple truth. But she could feel Luna’s teal eyes upon her, and her resentment for herself started to spill out from her lips and scatter into the four winds. “School, sports, trying to fly. Ponies always tell me I need to do better—to be better—and I try my hardest! I always do! But it’s never enough! They always think I’m lazy or unmotivated or messy-”
Luna remained quiet, her brow furrowing as her lips tightly pressed together.
“-And I’m tired of it! Day in and day out, I practice, and I’ve got nothin’ to show for it other than these worthless flaps,” Scootaloo’s tiny wings fanned outward pathetically. “And- and that's not even the worst part. If I’m not getting called a chicken or a blank flank to my face, there’s always somepony staring at me with the same look you’re wearing! Like I’m somethin’ that needs to be fixed. Like I’m just a broken toy.”
Her eyes stung as she smothered the sob escaping her throat.
“But what would you know about any of that? You’ve probably never felt weak before, and nopony’ll ever be as strong as you! …You’ll never know what it's like to be a pegasus that can’t fly.”
The air felt chillier now. Heavy. It pressed down upon her, pressing down against her frail and weak body, while her chest constricted her heart and lungs until she felt fit to burst. And in that moment of weakness, the voices began to mock her again.
“You are mistaken,” Luna’s voice brought Scootaloo out of her trance. “I have been brought low times aplenty and have felt such burdens plague my heart even more so,” Luna spread her wing, bringing the filly into her feathered embrace. “Without end, I have always been told to improve myself. By my advisors, my sister… Each night, I would weave my stars, pouring my very essence into my work, and by day, I would attend my courtly functions with the utmost care. But no matter how much I poured my soul into my work… it was never enough. It was never enough for my sister or our ponies; Our advisors or our courtiers. It was a never-ending cycle, and I always wondered at what point I would be worthy of their love. Their admiration.”
Luna nuzzled her gently between the ears. “Do not allow yourself to fall prey to this self-doubt. You will never need to earn the love of your friends and family.”
“But… I can’t even fly. I’m completely worthless.”
“Your strength will grow in time,” Luna said. “But take solace in knowing that your loved ones will always cherish you no matter the outcome. But until then…”
A revitalizing surge courses through Scootaloo, and the muscles in her wings, once fatigued and frail, now brim with newfound vitality.
“Come, fly with us,” Luna beckons with a wing. “And Indulge yourself. As our sister would say, ‘There is no wrong way to fantasize.’”
