A Dash of Inspiration

Rainbow Dash jabbed down with her right forehoof, stabbing a stray piece of paper with the special horseshoe she wore. The horseshoe itself was unremarkable metal except for a small spike on the tip, used for picking up litter. The pegasus lifted her hoof to one of the baggy orange saddlebags she wore and flicked the offending paper into the pumpkin-coloured depths. She had been repeating the motion with subtle variations - cups, for instance, required slightly more pressure - for the beginning half of the day, and it had not grown any more enjoyable.

Dash muttered something unintelligible and vulgar about the whole business to herself before trotting on three hooves over to the bright glint of a pop bottle’s glass. She hadn’t been given a tool to deal with these, so she braced herself for a moment before using her teeth to lift the item into the other saddlebag, taking extreme care not to let her tongue touch it. Despite her efforts, the acrid taste of dirt lingered in her mouth, and she spat to relieve it as best she could.

Shaking her head in irritation, Dash sat back on her haunches and threw a glance at the green space around her. Ponyville Public Park was divided into two main areas - the first area was open, rolling fields dotted with statues and monuments of one sort or another and some paths around the perimeters, while the second was a cool, shady forest more heavily woven with walkways and secluded benches, gazebos, and the occasional stream.

Dash’s current place was with the latter area, and was one that didn’t see as much traffic, which she considered a small mercy. The occasional poet or young couple seeking nature-borne inspiration or a private spot, respectively, would wander past every now and again, but nothing more.

Tugging at the collar of the correctional-facility-orange coveralls she wore, Dash cursed silently and wished for a breeze to come swirling down from the sky. The day was warm for late summer, and the thick, durable fabric of the coverall was warm to the point of being uncomfortable.

Finally, something in Dash’s day seemed to work out for her, and there came the rustle of leaves in the wind a few seconds before a breeze swept down the path and over her. Dash closed her eyes and flared her wings, turning into the breeze and letting it fill every feather. The force of it nearly sent the pegasus tumbling, but she adjusted her position slightly and remained in place. Blissfully, she closed her eyes, wanting to savour every moment of that wonderful, rushing wind.

After a minute, the breeze died down, and Dash sighed before returning to her work.

Wouldn’t want to get too comfortable now, would we?

The clip-clop of hooves along the stone of the pathway roused Dash from her thoughts. A green, black-maned unicorn wearing a beret and a black turtleneck was walking towards Dash. Twisting her neck, she saw that he was levitating a milkshake with him, absently sucking the straw that protruded from the top of the cup. As he passed Dash, he tossed the cup on the ground in front of her.

Dash took a moment to process what had just happened, and by the time she had, the unicorn was already past her and nearly around the a bend in the path.

“Hey!” she called after him, eliciting a pause and a turn of his head.

“Yes?” he asked, one foreleg still lifted.

“What’s the big idea?” Dash demanded angrily, spearing the milkshake cup and hobbling over to him. “Why’d you toss this to me?”

“It is your job to pick up trash, is it not?” the unicorn responded laconically.

Dash sputtered. “Well, yeah, but . . . I mean-”

“Then I fail to see the problem. Have a nice day.”

With that, the unicorn turned around and carried on his way. After a moment, he rounded the bend and was gone from Dash’s sight.

For long minutes, Dash just stood there, mouth slightly agape, taking in what had just happened. The surreality of it made her doubt herself, but the milkshake cup affixed to the tip of her hoof and the sticky ice cream dribbling down her foreleg affirmed the truth of the scenario.

At length, Dash returned to the present and the task of cleaning up the park that had been assigned to her. She thrust the cup into one of her saddlebags, then set about her work with a significantly more foul attitude.

You didn’t need to be such a jerk about it, jerk.

Dash continued in her task for a while, and Celestia’s sun worked its way up to the point of midday. The work was hardly pleasant, but Dash eventually scoured every square metre of the path system she had been assigned (a relatively small network dedicated to a Ponyville pioneer who had died of dysentery). Proclaiming it free of trash, Dash heaved a sigh of relief and immediately took off for the main entrance of the park after removing her horseshoe and nestling it in a side pocket.

Dash didn’t care that the physical act of running was making her coveralls even warmer - her community service hours were done for the morning, and she was determined to make the most of the lunch break she had to herself. There was that whole business with Twilight and the dinner that she had to think about, not to mention how thirsty she was-

Thirsty. She was so thirsty.

Dash halted abruptly, looking around for something to drink, or a place that sold somethings to drink. She had wandered into the more populated areas of the park now, but it was still hardly crowded. There were a couple families enjoying the sun with picnics, but most ponies had day jobs and school that kept them from the park.

Becoming a tad more antsy, Dash stretched up as best she could and managed to see a fast food establishment (it was not something she could rightly call a restaurant) just inside the park’s main gates. It was, unsurprisingly, empty, but had the subtle appearance of a place open for business. Dash normally neglected these, since her athleticism dictated a strict diet which could not permit the amount of fat that normally occurred in fancy fries or wheatburgers - the occasional pizza binge or six-pack notwithstanding, of course.

That day, that moment, Rainbow Dash was willing to make an exception.

Steeling herself, Dash walked over to the establishment, which consisted of a large, predominantly blue stand made of plastic. Outside the stand itself were a few picnic tables that had withstood far more sun, spilled food, and hyperactive children than any table ought to have. Dash had not paid attention to the particular franchise, but she couldn’t miss the bright blue M near the top of the stand as she drew nearer.

And it’s a McFawnald’s, too. Great.

A beige, bored-looking earth pony in his teens stood behind the cash register, wearing a McFawnald’s uniform at least two sizes too small for him. He flicked his eyes up at Dash as she entered, but mostly at the orange coveralls and bags of garbage that Dash wore and had affixed to her sides.

“Um,” he began to say.

“I’m giving back to the community,” quipped Rainbow Dash, crossing the final distance to the register. “Really, you should be honoured to help such an outstanding citizen as me.”

The teen snorted once with laughter. “Fair enough, I suppose. Not like there’s anypony around to care about the smell.”

“The smell?” asked Dash quizzically, glancing down at one of her saddlebags full of trash. It was garbage, sure, but it couldn’t smell that bad, could it? Rainbow Dash lowered her head for a sniff.

Okay, maybe it can smell that bad . . .

Coughing, Dash shook her head and turned back to the earth pony, who had watched Dash cluing in to her fragrance and was struggling to suppress giggles. “So, what’ll you have?”

Dash craned her head back, reading the menu that hung above the counter. This proved of little use, since the food’s names might as well have been written in Gryphon - they all had names like Bippity-Boppin’ Burger Time or Super-Slammin’ Sarsaparilla Sweetness. Each attempt to discern the true intent of the words just made Dash more confused - after a minute, she looked beseechingly at the earth pony, silently pleading for help.

“A wheatburger and a milkshake?” he asked knowingly, knowing all too well the feeling the pegasus had just experienced.

A smile broke out over Dash’s face and she nodded in thanks. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Right, that’ll be seven bits.” The earth pony opened up the cash register and extended a hoof.

“Seven . . . Oh, right! Money!” Dash patted her pockets, but found nothing aside from the horseshoe she had stowed. A frown creased her face, and she tried to remember where she’d put her coinpurse after eating breakfast. With a flash, she remembered what had become of it.

It was sitting at home on her coffee table, right where Rainbow Dash had left it.

Rainbow Dash looked sheepishly up at the pony behind the counter.

“Heh, uh . . . water’s free, right?”

A minute later, Dash sat sullenly at a park bench across the main field from the McFawnald’s, sucking back her cup of water through a straw. The clerk hadn’t been happy about her sudden lack of wealth, and had politely asked that she find a different place to enjoy her beverage, preferably downwind.

Dash had emptied her saddlebags into the park’s trash cans, so the stench of refuse had diminished a bit. That combined with the shade of a nearby tree had improved Dash’s surroundings, if not her mood With a slurp, the pegasus contemplated how her morning had gone.

She had woken up, eaten breakfast and flown - well, glided - down to the local Guard precinct, where she had been issued the coveralls, saddlebags, and horseshoe. After that, it was a blur of greenery and litter that ultimately clarified into the unicorn from the path and the McFawnald’s clerk.

Man, this day has sucked. I might have to take Twilight up on the dinner offer just to balance things out.

The purple unicorn flashed into Dash’s mind, and her breathing calmed a bit. The pegasus closed her eyes and took another pull of water, turning her thoughts to the matter of dinner with Twilight. Dash turned the matter over in her mind, and ultimately arrived at the conclusion she didn’t have any real reason not to go.

Twilight might not be the best cook the world has ever known, but it’ll be nice to just sit and talk with her. She’s probably got at least one cookbook in the library, and if there’s one thing she does well, it’s follow directions. Besides, she has her heart in the right place, and that’s what matters.

Dash’s stomach growled, reminding her how poorly and how little she had eaten.

Among other things, anyway.

So it was decided, then - she would finish up with her community service and do what she could to be presentable before heading over to Twilight’s at the agreed-upon time. Dash fished Twilight’s letter out of a coverall pocket and unfurled it, looking for the time when it would be acceptable to appear on the unicorn’s doorstep seeking food and succor.

Eight o’clock. Well, what time is it now?

Dash looked up at Celestia’s sun, which had just passed its apex.

It’s gonna be a long afternoon, isn’t it?

“Well,” said Scootaloo, hopping into fountain located in the middle of Ponyville town square, “at least now we know that we- I mean, um, you two, don’t have cutie marks for being painters. Or stonemasons.” She lowered her head into the water and began swishing it around, trying to rinse out the paint.

“Ah’ll admit, Ah didn’t think it’d work, m’self. Ah just hope nopony ever tries livin’ in that house.” said Apple Bloom, propping her front half up on the fountain’s edge and opting to hold her head under a cascade of water instead of dunking it. After a moment, the water underneath her hair began to run puce. She glanced behind her. “Ain’tcha gonna wash off too, Sweetie Belle?”

The unicorn of the trio glanced down at herself before responding. “I think I’ll just ask Rarity for help with this. The stuff from your manes is one thing, but I don’t think the fountain could handle all the paint I’m wearing.”

Scootaloo popped her head out of the water and gave it a shake, sending droplets of green and magenta water flying. “Yeah, jeez. You look like you’re wearing a bad Rainbow Dash costume. How did that happen, anyway?”

“How d’you know what makes a good Rainbow Dash costume, Scootaloo?” asked Apple Bloom, giving the pegasus a sideways look.

“Uh, well, um-”

“Well,” said Sweetie Belle, oblivious to the conversation around her, “there was a lot of paint from all the stuff we’d spilled, and it was really slippery, and I kind of tripped, and then I saw myself in the mirror and figured why not . . .” She traced patterns in the dirt with a forehoof while she spoke, then took trotted over to the fountain and took a look at her reflection in the water. “Does it really look that bad?”

“It looks fine,” said Apple Bloom as she pulled her now-pristine mane out from under the water “though Ah doubt it’d be a good idea showin’ up like that at the Grand Gallopin’ Gala.”

The three fillies giggled, and Scootaloo could feel the laughter erode at the worries that had been weighing her down over the past week. She smiled and looked around at her fellow crusaders. Apple Bloom was stopping wet from the neck up and Sweetie Belle looked like an arts and crafts project that even Cheerilee would have difficulty accepting, but she didn’t care. She was having fun hanging out with friends after a day of cutie mark crusading, and that was something she had missed sorely. The crusading had been fruitless, but Scootaloo found that she couldn’t care less.

“Uh, guys,” she said, moving around the fountain’s concrete rim to where the other two ponies stood, “I kind of have something I want to tell you.” The pegasus blushed, anxious about what she had to say, despite having rehearsed it several times in her head. Her friends simply sat back on their haunches, intrigued. Scootaloo steeled herself, then launched into her speech.

“I just wanted to say that hanging out today was really great. I seriously can’t think of a time when I’ve had more fun with you guys, and it was awesome just running around and having paint fights.”

Apple Bloom snickered. “Ah doubt Applejack’ll ever let us near the side of the barn again.”

“With all the stuff that’s happened with Rainbow Dash and my flight training and everything else, I haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with you. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you two until today. I shouldn’t have just run off with Dash and left you two like I did - you’re worth more than that, and I can do better than that.”

“Aww,” Sweetie Belle started to say, before Apple Bloom shushed her.

Scootaloo was looking squarely at the ground finding it difficult to look her friends in the eye. “What I really mean to say is . . .” The words caught in her throat, but the pegasus made herself say them.

“I love you guys. Can you forgive me-”

“Group hug!” cried Sweetie Belle, throwing herself at Scootaloo and wrapping her forelegs around the pegasus. Apple Bloom joined her a heartbeat later, and Scootaloo followed suit more slowly upon recovering her bearings. “Of course we can forgive you! You didn’t even do anything!” the unicorn said from her spot nuzzling into Scootaloo’s neck.

“But-”

“No buts,” said Apple Bloom, moving away a bit a looking her orange friend in the eye. “So we didn’t hang out for a while. Big deal. Y’ had to focus on yer flyin’, so that’s what y’ did, is all. Now with all that happened, y’ got some time fer hangin’ out with friends, so that’s what yer doin’.” The filly smiled. “It’s simple. No need t’ be sorry.”

Had she not drawn them both into an impassioned hug, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle would have seen their pegasus friend shed a tear.

Time, indifferent to the emotions of the three fillies, walked on, and they were reluctantly forced to break apart the hug. The sun was setting, and they all needed to be at home soon. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had a quick rinse in the fountain to remove the unfortunate side effects of hugging Sweetie Belle, and the three agreed to meet up some time in the next few days. With a final farewell, they parted ways.

Scootaloo walked through Ponyville’s streets (predominantly red brick, coloured overwhelmingly orange by the sun’s setting light), letting her hooves take her home. A smile creased her lips as she thought over the day’s events, and how much simple joy had been derived from spending time with the other Crusaders. She let out a contented sigh and hummed without a tune as she approached the final corner to her home. Before she quite rounded it, though, she heard voices cut through the air.

“. . . hospital yet, and now this?! What is the matter with you ponies?!” The voice was unmistakably her father’s, though the outrage was new.

“Sir, it’s not my decision - I’m just the messenger.” This voice was gruff and authoritative.

“I don’t care who you are! Am I just supposed to tell my daughter to keep a stiff upper lip through all of this?”

Scootaloo halted in her tracks, worried. Whatever was going on sounded bad. She edged silently to the corner and peeked out around it, trying to see what was happening.

Her father stood a metre or two in front of their house, facing a Guardsman who wore saddlebags stuffed with scrolls and papers. The bags had the seal of the Equestrian Courts on them, and a scroll lay on the ground at her father’s hooves. Mr. Nimbus’s wings were flared open to their full, impressive span, and his face was warped by anger. The pegasi were between Scootaloo and the sun, and while the Guardsman was granted an effect similar to a halo by this lighting, her father seemed to blur into the surrounding shadows.

“Answer me, damn you!” he continued, leaning forward aggressively.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down,” said the Guard, holding up a hoof. The slate grey pegasus facing him grunted and arched his back, seeming as though he would wring himself out with anger. After a moment, though, Mr. Nimbus folded his wings to their neutral position with a great deal of effort, relaxed his spine, and looked the Guardsman in the eye.

“I am calmed.” His voice was even, giving truth to his words.

The Guard grunted approvingly, then fished a second scroll out of his saddlebags and placed it on the ground. Its seal was a slightly different colour, but the scroll itself was of similar size. The Guard’s voice lowered, as he no longer needed to shout to make his point, and his words died before they could reach Scootaloo’s ears. He gestured at the scrolls in turn, and spoke for perhaps a minute. He then returned to his normal posture.

Scootaloo watched all of this in silent wonderment. Her father was silent for a long while, looking down at the scrolls before him. He spoke without raising his head.

“It occurs to me that the system is flawed in this regard.”

The Guard merely shrugged. “I just tell people what happens - I don’t decide things. I think the process is up for review in a couple of years.”

The dark pegasus chuckled bitterly. “That soon? Somepony should arrest those bureaucrats for speeding.” He looked up slightly, not quite fully at the Guard. “I don’t suppose you’d have any suggestions, would you?”

“Well,” said the Guard, relaxing and becoming more social, “there is that one mare, the rainbow one?”

At the mention of the word rainbow, Mr. Nimbus’s head darted up and looked the Guardsman squarely in the eye, searching.

The Guard chuckled. “I guess you’ve probably heard of her, what with living in the same town-”

“Are you joking?” asked Mr. Nimbus with a voice devoid of emotion.

There was an awkward pause, as the Guardsman attempted to reason out where the conversation had taken a hostile turn. His hesitation went unchallenged but for the opposing pegasus’s unblinking stare, the amber eyes of which seemed to be reaching into his very soul.

“Uh, no?” he asked tentatively, shying away from the intimidating figure in front of him.

“Leave.”

“. . . Sorry, what?”

Mr. Nimbus propped himself up regally on all four hooves, wings flared, and his amber orbs would have burnt divots into the Guard’s armour had they been capable of such a feat. “Remove yourself from the premises of my home, or by all the Gods in the sky I will end you where you stand.”

A stunned silence followed, and the Guardsman tried unsuccessfully to say something. Ultimately deciding that silence would speak most loudly, he gathered himself up, tried to look like he wasn’t terrified, and flew off.

Mr. Nimbus watched him disappear from sight, then sighed heavily. He relaxed, folded his wings back up, and picked up the scrolls from the cobblestone. He turned to go back into his house. His turn happened to face Scootaloo, and their eyes locked. Scootaloo’s heart skipped a beat, and she unfroze after a moment, managing to heave herself back around the corner. She sat on her haunches, hyperventilating and afraid of what she had just witnessed.

The filly didn’t quite have enough time to rev up into a full-blown panic before she heard the soft clop of hooves approaching from around the corner. Scootaloo whimpered slightly and curled herself up into a ball, dreading what was to come despite not knowing entirely what it would be.

“Scootaloo?” asked her father softly, his voice like burnished oak.

Scootaloo hesitantly opened one eye and looked up beside her. Her father stood halfway around the corner with the scrolls tucked under one wing. He looked down at her with tiredness and worry. “Scootaloo, how much of that did you hear?” he asked her quietly. They were the only two ponies on the street, and the evening was silent around them.

Scootaloo sniffed. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been this.

“S-something about a hospital, then the r-rest . . .” she said, holding back tears. Her father sighed and hung his head.

“I thought as much. I’m sorry you had to hear that, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo sniffled, not knowing what to say. Her father sighed again slightly, then extended a hoof. “I have dinner ready. I’ll explain things.”

His daughter looked up at him, eyes wet. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

She took his hoof and walked the handful of metres to their door. They entered, then ate and talked. Her father explained the situation, and Scootaloo mostly sat and listened, taking an occasional bite of her dinner. When the darker pegasus had finished talking, he sat back and waited for his daughter to say something.

She did. “I think you can guess who I want you to pick.”

“Rainbow Dash?”

She nodded. He folded his forelegs across his chest and was silent for a while. “I need to think about this.”

She looked at him pleadingly. “Dad . . .”

He hated doing that to her.

“Scootaloo, please, just . . . just give me the night to think everything over, okay? A lot’s changed tonight.”

Scootaloo didn’t love the idea, but she agreed to let him think the matter over for the night. They finished dinner, then got Scootaloo washed and settled in bed. Her father went back downstairs and sat on the couch, thinking. He remained there until the last of the light died and the moon rose and the slow pitter patter of rain on the roof started, unmoving. It was not until he was certain that his daughter was fast asleep upstairs that he dared move.

He wrote a quick note explaining briefly where he had gone, in case he was delayed, before walking out the door and locking it silently behind him. He was struck by icy droplets of water, for, despite all its pleasant sounds, it was the type of cold rain commonly found in autumn, the type that chilled to the bone and sucked the heat out of the air.

He marked his destination and steeled himself. He was an Officer of the Equestrian Postal Service, and had been through far worse conditions for far less.

With final glance back at his home, Tempestas Charta Nimbus took off into the cold, dark night.