ScootaSis


                                            >The autumn air is crisp and a stiff breeze blows over your face

                                            >You shudder and tighten the long, wool item draped around your neck

                                            >That scarf that Fluttershy knit for you last Hearth's Warming was really coming in handy

                                            >A subdued kind of red, or burgundy or something

                                            >Rarity would lecture you if you'd ever think to bring it up

                                            >But you were smarter than that, these days at least

                                            >You'd come to Equestria two years ago, something about your perfect positioning and the energy generated by that jet liner slamming into the ocean

                                            >Twilight had explained it using some super complex formula that could have been from Stargate for how much you understood

                                            >All you got out of it was that you'd never fly Malasyian Airlines again

                                            >Why'd you parents wanted to go to China anyway?

                                            >But it could have been worse, you could be dead

                                            >And given that, wasn't Equestria a better choice?

                                            >It was now anyway

                                            >For the first few months it hadn't been too great

                                            >Every creature, pony or otherwise, shunned you for being so alien to them

                                            >Some kind of hairless ape-thing that just happened to have a resistence to magic and stood as tall as a bear?

                                            >Must have been really terrifying to them

                                            >After a few cold nights lurking around in the shadows and forests around their little city of Ponyville, you'd stumbled on a treehouse

                                            >The CMC's clubhouse of course

                                            >Well you figured no one would mind if you just spent the night...

                                            >It wasn't locked, so you crawled inside the little door

                                            >It wasn't nearly as cramped as you'd figured, and there was already a pile of blankets in there

                                            >They must have had a sleepover and not cleaned up or something

                                            >Oh well, you were never one to piss on what the gods delivered to you

                                            >Laying the small blankets out, you make a suitable sleeping mat, then pile the rest on top of you

                                            >As you fall asleep, you think to yourself how much warmer the nights would be now

                                            >A cannonball impact to your stomach wakes you up

                                            >The air is driven from your lungs and you dry heave at the sudden pain

                                            >"What are you doing in here, you...you monkey! Get out!"

                                            >That squeaky little hoarse voice...

                                            >Scootaloo?

                                            >Your eyes open a crack and you can make out a blur of orange and purple standing inches from your face, teeth bared and huffing

                                            >You push yourself up and pile the dozens of little blankets away from your body

                                            "You can have those, but I'm not leaving."

                                            >She bites down on your arm, hard enough to break the skin and stares up at you with fire in her eyes

                                            >"I said get out!"

                                            >You rise up to your full height, or as full as it could be inside the treehouse

                                            >There was something else in her eyes, besides anger and fear

                                            >Was that, embarresment?

                                            "You live here, don't you?"

                                            >Even in the faint moonlight streaming through the open window, you can see her start to tear up

                                            >"N-no! I was just coming back to get something I left here earlier! I-I'm sure my mom and dad are worried about me already!"

                                            >She backs up to the door, but doesn't leave

                                            >You turn and stare at the half moon hanging high among the stars

                                            "You know, I haven't got anyone either. And everyone here hates me. You at least have the other Crusaders."

                                            >She timidly walks over to the pile of blankets, pulling some over to you, one at a time

                                            >"I-I don't hate you..."

                                            >She shys back when you reach out a hand to her, dragging another blanket over

                                            >You retract your hand, gathering the blankets around your shoulders

                                            "Sorry for scaring you. And thanks."

                                            >You see her shrug as she curls up under the remainder of the blankets

                                            >"Sure whatever. Just...keep those weird hooves to yourself, okay?"

                                            >Well that was agreeable

                                            >A little less comfortable now, you laid back down and went to sleep

                                            >Maybe things wouldn't be so bad

                                            >Your reverie by a heavy impact to your gut

                                            >"Hey, watch where you're walking, ape!"