Chapter 8

It might have been the relative quietness that pulled her towards this particular location or maybe she had been there before, but Scratch soon found herself on one of Manehattan’s back streets, listening to the ponies walk by. She didn’t understand why her life had taken a turn for the worse. Everything in her heart told her that she should cut her deal with Mic Eye and return home until she got back on her hooves. But she threw those feelings away.

This was her decision, her mistake and her life. Scratch was going to see it through and find her own resolution to her problems. She hated this trait of her’s, stubbornness and the overwhelming urge to prove herself independent. Scratch didn’t need anyone's help.

But there was a pony that did need someone to be there for her, and Scratch had left River behind. Just for the sake of proving herself.

Scratch covered her face with her hooves and tried to hold back the tears. “What can I do?”

A set of hoofsteps distracted her. Scratch felt somepony nudging her side and she faced in their direction.

“Hmm?” The mare sniffed as she wiped away an escaping tear.

“Are you the Deejay Pony?” asked a filly.

“Yes.” Scratch forced a smile.

“Wow,” the filly replied with slow admiration. “But, why are you crying?”

The mare shrugged, not really in the mood to talk with the filly. “It’s just... my life has taken a bad turn and I don’t know what to do.”

Scratch felt the little pony sit down next to her. The filly looked up at Scratch with concerned eyes.

“But you can beat anything. I remember hearing about how you were an orphan and-and also blind! But you still became famous! That made me believe that I could become a runner. And now I’m the fastest in my class!”

“That’s wonderful!” The filly was making Scratch forget about her troubles.

“Oh, my mommy is waving for me to come back inside. Bye bye Miss Deejay! I can't wait till I tell my friends at school about meeting you!”

The filly jumped off of the bench and Scratch heard the metallic clink of a prosthetic leg for the first time as the young pony galloped away.

Watching other ponies without being seen was something River had perfected in the orphanage. Though the gardeners and yard keepers were off today she instead put that skill to use when she noticed a group of four foals around her age and younger lingering outside of the mansion fence. She immediately knew who they were from the complaints of the gardeners and other adults. They were the foals that had been sneaking onto Maxim’s property and playing on it as if it was their own.

The three foals stood by a spot where one of the yard keepers had filled in a hole under the fence. River believed that was where they were gaining access to the property. From what she could see, there was three colts and a filly.

The youngest looking one, a small colt, noticed River sitting on the front porch, said some words to the other three and pointed at the solitary filly. The oldest colt, who appeared to be more along the lines of a young stallion, looked at River and waved her over. River sighed, contemplated if she should comply, adjusted her hat and slipped off of the swing. She leisurely walked down the path and along the fence until she reached the point where they were standing on the road.

She stared at them and they stared back.

‘Are you going to say anything or are you going to gawk at me like a group of idiots?’ she thought to herself.

“I didn’t know anyone our age lived in this old pony house,” stated the eldest of the group. He was a dark orange color with a yellow mane and green eyes. “Do ya live here Skinny?”

River nodded her head. They seemed slightly confused with her silence but the older colt continued.

“What’s your name?”

She remained quiet, slightly annoyed that he kept calling her Skinny. The other filly spoke up in a voice that for some reason reminded River of a flute.

“Can you talk? Or what?”

River looked the other filly over, a petite unicorn. She had a light blue coat and an all black mane that River could tell was dyed that color. On the filly’s legs was a dozen or so colorful bracelets.

River shook her head in response to the filly’s question.

“So you can’t talk?”

River shrugged and nodded. They stared at her with unsure expressions. River doubted they believed her. She honestly didn’t care.

“Thats kinda weird!” said the youngest of their group, a stout, tan colt with an orange mane.

'Your kinda weird,' River mentally hissed as she glared at the colt and he backed away from the fence slightly.

Just then the mail pony caught their attention and they watched as he placed several envelopes into the box. After he left, the eldest of the foals walked over to the mailbox and retrieved the letters. River watched him with critical eyes.

“Hey look guys! I have old pony mail!” he cheered. “I wonder what’s in it?”

Rivers eyes went wide as he promptly read the envelopes one by one then tore them in half with his teeth when he finished.

“To Maxim from Classical Musical Society. To Maxim from Ivory’s Piano Repair Services. To Maxim from the Wilton and Whiton Retirement Co. Wow, this Maxim guy sounds like a real geezer!” He noticed the horrified look on River’s face and started to jeer at her. “What? You want me to stop? Then ask me. Come on, just open your mouth and talk!”

River opened her mouth but the words stuck in her throat and all that came out was a gagged squeak. The others broke into a chorus of laughter as the mute filly tried her hardest to keep the tears from welling up.

“I bet she can’t even fly!” the oldest colt continued, pointing at Rivers wings, and he was right. She couldn’t fly, nor had she ever tried. “And you don’t even have a cutiemark. Guys, I realised that she isn’t actually a pony! She’s more like a flightless, songless bird! I know what you are!”

He loomed over her from across the fence and she looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You're a penguin!” he screamed into her face.

The tears were close to spilling over as the older colt went back to reading and ripping the last three pieces of mail.

“Gardener’s Weekly Magazine. Just ask me to stop Penguin and I will. Another Letter to Maxim from The Classical Music Society. One more letter Pinguin, all you have to do is tell me to stop. No? Okay. To Vinyl Scratch from Ditzy Doo.” He grinned menacingly at her. “Aww, so sad, all of their mail torn up because you could stop me. It is your fault, but don’t be too hard on yourself. You are a useless penguin after all.”

“Hey, Clouter, who was that last letter for again?” Asked the second oldest of the colts.

“I don’t remember. Just pick it up and read it yourself,” the oldest, who apparently was named Clouter, replied harshly. “It’s around here somewhere.”

River was now crying softly to herself and she tried to hide her face under her hat.

“Stop crying and lets think of new ways to cure your talking problem.”

“Hey, Clouter, I found the letter and it says it’s for Vinyl Scratch.”

The rest of them stared at him with either confused or disbelieving looks.

“Guys,” asked the second oldest colt. “Do you think this might be the house everypony back at school said the Deejay Pony lived in?”

“Uh.” Clouter looked uneasily at the house then shook his head. “In this old house? Nah. I bet her parents just named her after the DeeJay. Ain't that right penguin?”

River was too busy crying to give any type of response.

“I think we should go now,” said the black maned filly. “My mom wanted me back home ten minutes ago.”

“Fine,” groaned Clouter. “See ya later Penguin.”

They cantered away leaving River sobbing uncontrollably as she watched the remnants of the mail blow away. She laid there even when her tears had long ceased to flow. Maxim found her a few hours later asleep on the yard as the sun went down, clutching her hat to her chest with the few pieces of paper she could save stuffed inside.

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I know it's a short chapter but I have a lot planned for the next one.