Hoofsteps reverberated off the metal as Scootaloo walked down the hallway on the lower level of the ship. She emerged into the light of the pantry room, exactly how she had left it. It was oddly comforting; even though she had only been on the ship for no more than a week and she had only been off of the ship for an hour or two at most, it felt like home. Her new home.

Scootaloo continued through the pantry and up the ladder into the hallway above. From there, she walked into the cockpit and then across it, over to the dashboard. She leapt up into the pilot's chair and gazed ahead out the window, at the blackness of space. Then, without another moment's pause, she looped the tote bag handles around her hindleg and lifted the weight onto the pedal.

Immediately, Scootaloo was thrown back in her seat as the ship bolted forward. Caught off guard, she slipped sideways. She would have slipped off if not for the armrest; however, the plastic-covered thing caught her straight in the stomach and she nearly puked on impact. Still reeling, she pushed herself up with her hooves to a seated position on the chair.

The stars sped by in front of her. Scootaloo smiled weakly; she was back on track.