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PARTS OF A FANFIC I'LL NEVER FINISH
02/04/12(Sat)23:32 No.33973276 File1328416330.png-(628 KB, 750x450, scootaloo1.png)
Scootaloo tucked her hooves under herself, and huddled next to the log in the dark. She still couldn't see a thing, and it was getting colder. A sharp gust blew in across the riverbank, and she shivered. Wild weather. She hadn't felt this sort of thing since that time with the other crusaders in the forest. She wondered how she could feel so brave in the middle of a Cockatrice's lair, and so scared by a calm river with nothing but crickets around. She tried to keep herself packed tightly against the log, hoping any totally out there monsters wouldn't notice her. 'Well, that might not be too hard anyway, considering.' she thought...
Scootaloo pushed her head back up and strained her eyes at the dark surrounding her. Where was Big Macintosh? He'd told her he'd be back, but that had to have been a good hour ago. Or was it a minute? She couldn't tell anymore. Maybe he ditched her for kicking him in the face earlier. 'Oh Celestia,' she thought, 'I can't believe I blamed him for that mess. Good going Scoots. You get the one colt who can get you out of this mess and you blow him off over vultures! You're such a idio-'
CRA-BOOM-BOOOM!!!
Scootaloo jumped and squeaked as a pile of lumber came crashing down in front of her. The outline of the red and yellow plowhorse huffing slightly over the weight, his piercing emerald eyes glaring down on her. "F...firewood?" Scootaloo sputtered out. The giant pony nodded slowly. "Do you... do you need my help with-" Big Macintosh shook his head, as he pulled out a small tinderbox in the sack he'd been carrying.
Scootaloo reclined back into the log as the earth pony set to work setting up the campfire. Scootaloo grabbed up a patch of wildgrass and started to chew, wincing at the bitter taste. Stupid grass. Stupid cold. Stupid Big Mac. |