“What are you—a chicken?” Scootaloo said in a mock sing-song voice. She was clambering her way up a steep slope, mumbling to herself. “Chicken, huh? I'll show them.” Her tiny hooves awkwardly grasped at rocks as she pulled herself up the mountainside. She grunted as she lifted herself onto a small plateau. The rock felt chill against her back as she sat on her haunches, resting.

Her breathing was ragged, and she was dripping with sweat. With one hoof to placed above her brow, she scanned the sky. There was not a cloud in the sky. She licked her lips as a toothy grin spread across her face. Taking a deep breath she stood and dusted herself off.

She heaved herself up and continued climbing. Her weak muscles strained under the pressure. Exhaling with each thrust, she moved slowly but surely, higher.

Within a few minutes, she had reached the penultimate rock. Its craggy surface was the last obstacle. She cracked her neck and ruffled her feathers. With the combination of her hooves pulling herself up and the beating of her wings to provide a small amount of lift, she was finally able to crest the massive stone.

When she had reached the top, she threw herself down, splaying out on the hard slab. She rolled on to her back and stared up at the sky. She closed her eyes and basked in the sun's warm rays for a few moments—her chest slowly heaving up and down—before rolling back over. Her rosy mane was sticky with sweat; it stuck to her cheeks like glue. She shook her head, showering the rocks with salty water.

She inched towards the edge of the cliff, peering over the precipice. Her heart skipped a beat. The ground seemed so far away. The trees were merely green sticks in the distance. She felt a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, taking a few steps back. “I came this far,” she said firmly. Her face contorted into a look of determination. Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. She bit her lip, shuffling her feet. “Okay,” she said finally. “I'm ready.”

Clenching her eyes shut, she galloped towards the edge, flapping her tiny wings as hard as possible.

She jumped.

For a brief moment, she felt as if she were floating. She opened one eye slowly, then the other. Looking around, she saw the vast blue sky in front of her. A smile cracked across her face.

Then—she fell.

As quickly as her joy had come, it left her, replaced by sudden fear. She flapped her scrawny wings with all her strength. Her heart raced as she plummeted towards the ground. She shut her eyes fearfully, turning her body in a futile attempt to cushion the impact. She waited for the inevitable, wondering what it was going to feel like. Tears flew past her in the wind.

She felt herself stop suddenly. She opened her eyes slowly, sure that she had hit the ground by now.

A multitude of colors waved in front of her. She could feel soft, blue fur beneath her. She no longer felt as though she were falling. Rather, she felt as if she were rising.

“Rainbow—Dash?” she said slowly.

Rainbow glanced over her shoulder, a smirk adorning her muzzle. “Don't worry, squirt,” she said reassuringly. “I've got you.”

Scootaloo's eyes watered; tears streamed down her cheeks moistening her fur. She leaned down wrapping her hooves around Rainbow's neck. She nuzzled her warmly.

“Thank you.”