"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them."

-Leo Tolstoy

Scootaloo ran her hoof through the cumulus and watched the plumes drift through the sky like dandelion seeds. She leaned back, her forelegs wrapped around her head to form a makeshift pillow, let out a blissful sigh and shut her eyes. For reasons she couldn't explain, this simple act caused the warmth of the sun to increase tenfold. Eternities could be spent lying like this.

The wind blew her fuchsia mane into her face, but she brushed it away with her hoof. While she couldn't say she knew exactly what paradise was like, she was one-hundred percent sure that it was a spitting image of this.

She opened her eyes again, flinching as they adjusted to the sunlight. She turned her head to the side and watched thick plumes of cumulonimbus drift across the sky. As she lay there, entranced by the beauty around her, she couldn't help but laugh. All her life she had wanted to harness the thrilling aspects of the sky: the daring tricks, the skull-crushing speeds, the endless freedom. However, as she laid upon the clouds, she realized that she enjoyed the meditative qualities of the upper-world as well. She adored watching wisps of cirrus dance around, performing their never-ending ballet. She could spend hours listening to the ravens' call as they drifted through the sky, watching their tiny black bodies move against the expansive, blue backdrop. It was calming, enthralling, and she couldn't get enough.

"Hey, squirt!" cried an unmistakable, tomcoltish voice.

Yes, she thought to herself. It's definitely paradise.

Scootaloo slowly rose to her hooves, stretching out her wings and legs in the process. After the orchestra of pops and clicks ceased, she lifted off of the cloud.

Flight was still an odd experience for her. When she was younger, it had escaped her like the answers to the universe. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get her hooves off the ground for more than a second or two. However, once she had harnessed it, the act became second-nature, like walking or breathing.

She hovered into the air and found herself face to face with an angel. An angel with a coarse voice, rainbow mane, and somewhat obnoxious attitude. Sure Rainbow Dash wasn't perfect, but then again, who was? All that mattered was that she had taken her under her wing, taught her to fly, and shown her the pegasus way of life. They stared at each other intently, eyes filled with a hunger for speed and a desire for adventure.

"So, are you going to lollygag on the clouds all day, or are you going to do something productive like me?"

"You mean taking twenty-two hour long naps?"

Rainbow Dash was in her face in an instant. "Hey! My naps only last seventeen hours!"

"Is there a difference?" Scootaloo smirked.

"Do you want to get your flank kicked?" Dash's nose pressed up against hers. Strands of rainbow mane blew into Scotaloo's face.

"I'd like to see you try."

Rainbow grinned. "Fine! If that's the way you want it to be. Here, to Cloudsadale, to Ponyville, then back here. No breaks, no water, no exceptions."

"Alright, let's do it." Scootaloo squinted her eyes into an intimidating glare.

The pegasi hovered down to a thin sheet of altostratus and marked it as their makeshift starting line.

"On the count of three," Rainbow said, lowering herself into a starting position. "One... twothree!" Rainbow was off in a flash.

"Hey!" Scootaloo cried out, sprinting to catch up. "That's cheating, Rainbow!"

"No, it's not. It's trickery!"

"I thought we were flying an honest race here!"

"Honesty ain't my element, squirt."

Scootaloo ignored her, choosing to focus on the race rather than a witty retort. They were neck and neck from Cloudsdale to Sweet Apple Acres. Scootaloo could feel her wings beginning to cramp up, and she cursed herself. I should have just let the cheater have her head start. I would have caught up to her eventually.

Suddenly, her wing stiffened, and she almost lost control.

"You okay, squirt?" Rainbow called out to her in a voice tinged with concern.

"Of course I am!"

"I don't want you crashing on me. If you need to stop I'll—"

"I don't need anypony's help!"

Her wing cramped again and locked at her side. She tumbled through the air. Ground, sky, ground, sky—the world was a blur and she felt the urge to throw up. With each rotation, her distance from the ground was cut dramatically. Realization struck her square in the chest.

I'm gonna die! I'm gonna to die! She kicked her legs in a panic. Rainbow, help me!

Amidst her spinning and pleading, she could make out Rainbow speeding towards her, eyes squinted in determination. A cone formed around Rainbow. A cone that Scootaloo had only heard about in stories.

She couldn't help but smile. If the last thing she saw was a Sonic Rainboom, then she could die a happy mare.

She could feel foliage against the back of her head.

The cone had reached its breaking point

This is it...

"Scootaloo..."

I'm ready...

"Scootaloo!"

Scootaloo was blinded by a wave of light

"Scootaloo! Wake up!"

She slowly opened her eyes and glanced around the room. Her vision was blurry, and the air around her smelled of wood and ink.

Her cheek was damp with drool, and there was a putrid taste in the back of her throat. She lazily licked her chapped lips and groggily attempted to lift her head off of the book. However, the parchment and ink beckoned her like a Siren's call, and she let her face fall onto the pages.

"Scootaloo, get up!"

"Fibe muhr minutz, Twi'ligh," Scootaloo muttered, her words muffled by the thick pages. "I wasb habin' dish aweshume dreham."

"This isn't a hotel, and my books are certainly not meant to be used as pillows. Now, hurry up... I'm locking up in a few minutes."

"What?" Scootaloo lifted her head from the book and squinted up at Twilight, then out the window. "It's, like, three in the afternoon!"

"Actually, it's four in the afternoon," Twilight corrected.

"Three, for, it doesn't matter. I thought the library stays open until seven!"

"Okay, first, you and I both know that you're not allowed to be here for that long. Second, I have a very important meeting with a friend at five, so closing time is earlier."

"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here," Scootaloo sung out of key, giggling as she returned her head to the comfort of the book-pillow.

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being silly. Fine then, I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice."

Suddenly, a purple glow and a sense of weightlessness enveloped Scootaloo.

She smiled for a second before realizing that Twilight was levitating her. "Come on, Twilight! I was reading!"

"Oh, really? I didn't know one could read through osmosis."

"Os-what?"

"Osmosis: The process of gradual or unconscious assimilation of ideas."

Scootaloo stared at her, mouth agape. Were those even words? "Look, Twilight... Come on, Twilight, put me down! I can walk myself out."

Without hesitation, Twilight set her down. Unfortunately for Scootaloo, her legs were still asleep, and she fell with a thump as soon as her hooves touched the floor.

"Oh my goodness! Scootaloo, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just gotta wake up."

Scootaloo stretched herself out. Once she was confident that she could take a step without falling flat on her face, she headed back towards the desk.

Twilight rolled her eyes and followed. "Scootaloo, the door's that way," she said, nodding over her shoulder.

"You think I don't know that?"

"I'm beginning to wonder..."

"Look, I just want to check out a book, Twilight. That's all."

"Okay, but are you actually going to read it?"

"Of course I am."

"I'm not going to let you check it out if you aren't going to read it."

"And why do you believe I won't read it?"

"You just don't strike me as the reading type."

Assumptions, Scootaloo sighed. "I bet Rainbow didn't seem like the 'reading type' either." Twilight gasped, and Scootaloo cringed. "Sorry... sorry for that, Twilight." She shamefully looked at the ground.

"It's fine, Scootaloo. I know you didn't mean anything by it," Twilight's voice trembled.

They continued their walk in silence. Seconds later, they reached the table that Scootaloo had been using as a bed. Two books lay upon the chair, and another lay open on the table, a stain still standing out on the page. Giving Twilight a sheepish grin, Scootaloo closed the book, picked it up with her mouth and handed it to her. Twilight grabbed it with a telekinetic spell and turned towards the checkout desk. As she turned, she glanced at the cover and nearly dropped the book.

"Um, Scootaloo?" Twilight's voice shook.

"Yeah?"

"Why," her voice cracked despite her best efforts. "Why are you getting this book?"

"Eh, I don't know. Rainbow mentioned the books a few times. She said they were 'awesome' and 'cool,' so I decided to give 'em a shot. I got to, uh..." Scootaloo racked her brain for a number, something that would make Twilight think that she had actually read the book, rather than passing out as soon as she had opened it to a random page. "Chapter five! It was pretty good. I promise I'll finish it."

Twilight didn't react; she was in a whole other world. Her shoulders and back were tensed and her head was lowered. She glanced over her back at Scootaloo, but then averted her gaze.

Eventually, Twilight spoke up. "Scoots." She had never used Scootaloo's nickname before, and the utterance of it felt awkward. "Why did you come here?"

"To read, duh..."

"Yes, but did you, um, come here for this book specifically."

"Well, a book in the series, yeah. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No, I was just wondering."

Silence overtook them once more, and they shuffled to the front desk. Twilight completed the proper checkout procedures without making eye contact. It was quite clear that her mind was elsewhere, but Scootaloo knew Twilight's habit of breaking into long-winded rants and wanted nothing to do with one of her spiels. She'd probably lecture me about damaging library property or something. She picked up the book in her mouth, gave Twilight a nod of gratitude, and stuffed it into her cyan saddlebags.

Once the book was secure, she trotted to a nearby bookcase and collected the scooter and helmet leaned against it. She brushed her mane back with one hoof and placed her helmet on her head with the other. Tightening the straps and blowing away any unruly strands of mane that fell into her eyes, Scootaloo grabbed her scooter and exited the library.

Before she sped off, she once again expressed her gratitude. "Thanks, Twilight. See ya later!"

She rolled forward, beating her wings as fast as she could. She glanced back at the library and saw Twilight standing in the doorframe. Scootaloo stopped and called back. "Twilight... are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah... I'm fine," Twilight replied, her attention focused on the sky. Scootaloo turned her head and searched the sky for what had caught Twilight's eye. A faint rainbow hung just above the distant hilltops. Scootaloo felt a lump forming in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it.

"Have a good evening, Scootaloo." Twilight's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah... yeah, you too..." Scootaloo couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Maybe it was just her cocky nature, but Scootaloo was certain that nopony in Equestria could ride a scooter like she could. The speeds she could reach, combined with the tricks she could pull off, were a skill-set that made even the most gutsy of ponies' jaws drop. However, despite her talent with a scooter, it was not her special talent. If she was meant to get a scooter cutie mark, she would have gotten it already. She looked at her flank out of habit.

Nope, still blank.

She sighed and focused on the road. Normally, she hated the long route from downtown Ponyville to her house on the outskirts, but this was one of those exceptions. The only sounds she heard were the arrhythmic clicking of pebbles and twigs beneath her scooter. She closed her eyes and imagined that she was flying.

The smell of grass and the water of a nearby stream covered her mind's canvas with green and blue, while the sound of a cold wind rustling the autumn leaves added a layer of yellow and violet. The red handlebars shook in her hooves. She grinned and could taste the moist wind as it blew through her teeth, topping off her image with a hint of indigo. This must be what flying looked like: a spitting image of a rainbow.

Rainbow...

Mentioning her name in front of Twilight had been hard enough. The actual, unprovoked mental vision hurt even more. Scootaloo had tried being tough, tough like her, but that was impossible. Her eyes began to burn and her hooves started to shake, making it impossible to control her scooter.

She came to a stop on the side of the path and sat down in the grass, inhaling and exhaling frantically. She looked to her right. There was still enough light in the sky to see where she was going. She was only five minutes from home at the most, and she was sure that there was at least an hour's worth of light left. A smirk pulled at her lips. Her father always told her to be back before sunset, and Scootaloo loved to push that envelope. She looked in front of her and realized where she was. The smirk faded.

A garden of granite and shadows loomed on the other side of the fence.

Every muscle in her body shook. Stumbling over her own hooves, Scootaloo scurried onto her scooter and fled down the path.

The air bellowed in her ears as she sped down the path. She knew crashing at this speed would be dangerous, but that didn't matter. The only thing she could think about was getting as far away from that accursed place as quickly as possible.

Glancing to her left, she saw the outline of a cottage. Its windows were dark, just as they had been for the past two weeks. She sighed, but quickly shoved any errant thoughts out of her mind. Thinking about these things wasn't going to help her get away from them.

As she crested a large hill, she could make out her house. Light shone from the first story, and she groaned. That meant her father was home and waiting for her. She looked to the left and saw that there was still plenty of light in the sky—at least by her standards. She gave her wings a hard flap, and continued down the dirt road.

She rolled up to the front steps and hopped off of the scooter, hastily removing her helmet. After checking her saddlebags to make sure her book hadn't fallen out during the ride, she ran up the steps as fast as her legs could carry her. She looked over her shoulder, making sure that she wasn't late, and went to push open the door, but it flew open before she could touch it.

Her father stood in the doorway, fearful eyes darting from her, to the horizon, and back to her. He was breathing heavily, and she could see that every muscle in his body was tense. He looked at her and the road behind her several more times, his muscles slackening with each glance. Eventually, only his heavy breathing remained. He looked down at Scootaloo, glaring daggers.

"Inside. Now!"

She entered the gaudy living room and searched for something to focus on. Her gaze shifted from the pale-mauve drapes, to her father's unfinished sculptures in the corner of the den and to the single couch that occupied the center of the room. Finding no viable distractions, she looked up at her father.

"H-hey D-d-dad," she said, trying but failing to pull off an innocent smile.

"Scootaloo! Du bist spät Fräulein!" Maler scolded, slipping into his native Germane tongue.

"I'm pretty sure there's still light in the sky, Dad."

She had him there. If anything, she was earlier than usual. Still, she could hear his heart from across the room, and the worry she had caused him earlier was still apparent. His eyebrows furrowed, and Scootaloo could see that he was analyzing the situation from top to bottom. His expression finally slackened, and Scootaloo sighed. It was clear that he was giving her a chance to defend herself.

"Where were you, Töchterchen? Hanging out with your friends?"

"I was at the..." The words drifted off. There was no chance that he would believe her.

Maler leaned forward. "Where were you?"

"The library," Scootaloo replied flatly, eyes downcast.

"You? At the library? That's the best excuse you can come up with?"

"Hey, I've got the book right here!" She yanked open her saddlebag and pulled out a large book with a red cover. The cover depicted a pegasus with a golden yellow coat, cocky grin and trademark hat fighting an army of skeletons.

"Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool." He chuckled. "I used to read these books when I was a colt!

"Wow," Scootaloo said, "they're that old?"

"Are you calling me old, Töchterchen?" He smirked. Scootaloo said nothing, choosing to focus on the floorboards once more.

"So," he continued. "Why did you get this? I know you, and I know that you hold books on the same level as broccoli and cough syrup." He laughed again. "Not saying that it's a bad thing to start. It's just... odd."

"I..." She drifted off, not sure if she wanted to mention the real reasons. Reality hurt too much, but at the same time, her father could see through her like thin air. Any excuse she made—any lie she told—would be detected by her father's ever-judging eyes. She sighed and continued, "Rainbow used to talk about how 'awesome' they were and, well, I could use some 'awesome' right now."

Maler knelt down next to his daughter and nuzzled her cheek. "Well, from experience, I can confirm that these books are... what did you call it? Awesome?"

"Yeah, that was it."

"Although..." His face tensed up again as he read the cover. "You do realize that this is the sixth book in the series, right?"

"Oh, horseappl—" She covered her mouth, hoping that it would mute the profanity, but Maler had already heard enough.

"Scootaloo C. Dronte, what did I tell you about using such vile language?" Her father's face bore a mask of forced disapproval.

"Never use it." She guiltily sighed.

"You're damn right." Maler's lips pulled up in a sly grin.

"Hypocrite!" she cried.

"Do you even know what that word means?"

"Yeah... well, no, but I've heard it used to describe ponies like you!"

He chuckled. "Okay, you've got me. Anyway, if memory serves correct, the series doesn't have much of a continuity, so I don't think reading the sixth book first will cause any problems."

"Good... I don't want to go all the way back to the library just so I can get the first book." She winced and shook her head. "Especially not after how Twilight acted."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Scootaloo said. "She saw that I was getting one of these Daring Do books, and then she started asking me all these questions. Why I was getting it. Who I heard about it from. And then she got all sad."

"Well, that's understandable. She did lo—" Maler stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing, Töchterchen, nothing. Say, are you hungry?" he cooed, kneeling beside her again, and wrapping a foreleg around her shoulder.

"As a horse!" Scootaloo exclaimed, giggling at her own joke.

"Well, that's good because I didn't make anything you'd like,"

"Oh... what are we having?" Her ears drooped.

"Just some icky, gross... spargel!"

"Really?" Scootaloo's disappointment turned to excitement. "Wow, you almost tricked me."

"You and I both know that my cooking is atrocious at best."

"Only when you're baking." Scootaloo shuddered as she thought back to the gingerbread cookie disaster two Hearth's Warming Eves ago.

"Wahr, wahr. So, what do you say? Do you think you can handle it?"

"I was born ready!" Scootaloo yelled. Out of habit, she lowered herself into a starting position, and her father followed suit. Their eyes met.

Maler grinned. "Drei... zwei... eins... los!

Scootaloo and Maler raced each other to the kitchen.

Scootaloo stumbled into her bedroom and called over her shoulder in a tired, slurred voice.

"Goodnight Dad!"

"Goodnight Töchterchen! Sweet dreams," Maler called out, his voice muted by the door to his studio.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning," she said between yawns.

Scootaloo flapped her wings and lifted herself into bed. Sure, it wasn't flying a marathon, but it was progress. The fact that her flight-development was so delayed frustrated her to no end, but she knew that lying around and moping wouldn't help. 'You don't learn to fly by sitting on your flank all day. You learn to fly by jumping off a cliff.' That's what Rainbow had told her.

Sure, she had taken that message a little too literally at first, but over time she had grown to understand the meaning behind Rainbow's words.

Rainbow.

Her mind really needed to stop drifting there. The nightmares were bad enough.

She let her head sink into the pillow, and her mind drifted back to the dream she had back at the library, specifically the fall. The tumbling, the pleading, the acceptance. It made her legs shake.

I wonder if that's how...

She clenched her teeth and shut her tear-filled eyes. No... I have to be brave. I have to be strong. I have to...

A single tear trickled down her cheek. Then another. Then dozens upon dozens. She buried her face in the pillow to hide her sobs.

There were several things that she wanted to preserve—her mask of toughness was one of them. She hated herself for crying, but at the same time, she wanted nothing more than that feeling of release. In the back of her mind, she had planted the idea that maybe, just maybe, her tears would bring those she loved back to her.

Unfortunately, even in a magical land like Equestria, tears did nothing but dampen pillows.

She wiped her eyes and looked around her room. Despite the tragic events, most of her Rainbow Dash collection remained intact. The core from the apple Dash had eaten at the centennial meteor shower lay on a shelf, right next to a rainbow-wig. Wonderbolts posters and memorabilia lined all four walls (Scootaloo couldn't recall what the walls underneath even looked like). Her eyes drifted to the nightstand, and the two items that lay upon it: a pair of goggles and a face-down picture.

Design-wise, there was nothing particularly special about the goggles. They were a generic set that one could buy at any local bit store, but they were special to Scootaloo. Dash had worn these goggles through every storm and every race. They weren't just Rainbow's property, they were a part of her. However, even the goggles carried bitter reminders: a crack on the right lens and a dark-stain around the headband.

The picture was something she couldn't force herself to look at, but she kept it on her nightstand anyway.

She reached for the floor and, after several missed swipes, found her saddlebags. She rummaged through them until her hoof smacked against something hard. Slowly, she pulled the book out and looked at the cover.

Daring Do stared at her through the darkness, eyes still gleaming with determination.

"Why not?" Scootaloo muttered to herself. She hopped out of bed, reached under it, and pulled out a lantern filled with fireflies. How the fireflies were still alive was a mystery—she'd had the lantern stuffed under her bed for at least a week. She placed the lantern on her nightstand, hopped back into bed with a determined flap of her wings, and opened the book. The fireflies' lights were dim, and Scootaloo had to squint to make out the words.

"Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool."

Prologue:

The strength of the gale threatened to blow Daring Do's hat off her head and around the world. She could barely see through the stinging rain, but she could make out the outline of a mountain. The distance between her and her destination was still far more than she'd hoped, and the storm showed no signs of letting up anytime soon, but she had to keep moving.

Lightning strikes illuminated the world around her. The light was blinding, and Daring Do found herself looking down, shielding her eyes from the searing flash. She saw a face in a puddle—a face she didn't recognize—and she turned to attack. However, nopony was behind her. Perplexed, she looked back at the puddle. Lightning flashed, and she couldn't believe what she saw.

Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and water droplets cascaded off her unkempt, oily mane. Her eyes were red from nights without sleep. Her vest hung loose around her torso, and her leg muscles lacked firmness. Food had been hard to come by in the lifeless plains of Strideberia—not that she felt like eating in the first place. There was no time to eat or rest.

She didn't know how much longer she could go on.

She needed to find the Phoenix Pool, find the spirit of her father, and return him to the land of the living.

This wasn't a quest for treasure. This was a quest for something far more important.

Daring Do gritted her teeth, pressed down her hat, and continued her march...

Scootaloo was already bored. I thought Rainbow said these books were awesome? All about action and adventure and treasure and kicking butts and all that good stuff. All I'm seeing is some depressed chick. She noticed that she was only on the second page and groaned.

She made a wager with herself. If the first chapter was five pages long or fewer, she'd read it. She flipped through the pages, passing the table of contents. She was about to go back when something caught her eye. On the inside cover was a map filled with lines, dots and other symbols.

She could see a sketch of a mountain peak, with the words Phlegethon scribbled next to it. There was a dot near the top of the mountain, marked with the words Phoenix Pool. She scanned the map, intently studying every detail of the proposed route. Finally, her eyes settled on the starting point of the trek, and her heart stopped.

Canterlot...

The book fell to the floor.

Could it be? No! This book is fictional. Canterlot's the capital. That's why it's there! That's all. But, wait... what if it is real? What if Phlegethon doesexist? What if this Phoenix Pool is a real thing? If it's true, I can... no, I can't get my hopes up... but...

She clasped her head in her forehooves, massaging her temples gingerly. Nopony had told her that this thinking thing was so hard. She got out of bed, picked up the book in her teeth, and trotted over to her desk which was covered with unfinished homework and detention notices that she quickly swept away.

She opened up one of her drawers and searched through it. She pulled out a couple of unfinished comics, a crumpled love letter from Snails, and a moldy daisy sandwich. Finally she found what she was looking for, a map

She flattened it against the desk and placed the book next to it. She scurried to her nightstand, retrieved the lantern, and quickly tiphoofed back to the desk. Her eyes darted from the book to the map, constantly comparing the concrete details in each. There was a forest on the real map, and a forest in the exact same spot on the book's map. She searched through the similarities until she found the comparison she was searching for.

On the real map, in the exact same spot that the book said Phlegethon was located, was an isolated triangle—a mountain!

"Sweet Celestia," Scootaloo muttered. She sat there for a few moments, letting the details wash over her. A desire to laugh and a desire to cry welled up in her chest.

She rose from the chair and shuffled to her bed. She sat down on the edge, mouth agape and eyes unfocused. She moved her hoof over to the nightstand, and wrapped her foreleg around the picture frame. Even in the darkness she could make out the distinctive rainbow-mane.

She gave the photo a melancholic smile and hugged it to her chest with the same gentleness that one would hold a newborn puppy. Her eyes stung with fresh tears as she rocked back and forth on the mattress.

In between heaving, shaky breaths, she whispered, "I'll get you back, Rainbow Dash...

"I'll get you back..."