Scootaloo lay with her eyes open on her bed—cot, really—on the back wall of her cell. At first she had tried lying on her back; although it wasn't particularly comfortable, the main issue was that the harsh lights above shone relentlessly into her eyes. She didn't want to face right either, not wanting to look out at Mochi or Grey or whoever else was there. So, lying on her left side, she stared at the sheer metal surface of the wall in front of her.

Her blurry reflection gleamed back at her, though she could still make out her neutral expression and some of her facial features. There were bags under her eyes—not that there ever weren't but these ones were especially prominent. A long, dark red gash snaked diagonally across her muzzle. Scootaloo reached a hoof—which itself was marred by several small scabs—to her face to touch it. She traced the line of the scab on her face. It was strange, to say the least. She couldn't quite get used to how it looked on her face—but she would have to, she supposed, since in some form it would probably be there to stay. She wondered how she had gotten it.

And then Scootaloo began to think of Kevin and the ship. She tried to remember exactly what had happened for several minutes. All she could come up with, though, was that something had gone wrong and that they had crashed. After that... it seemed like the ponies in charge here had captured her for some reason. Come to think of it, they probably got Kevin too.

Curious, Scootaloo decided to try something. "Kevin?!" she shouted. Her voice reverberated off of the metal walls.

"Shut up, kid!" was the only response she got, from exactly where she would have guessed. Scootaloo flipped over on her bunk to face the other cells.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grey, it's just that—"

"Spare your excuses," Grey grumbled. She still couldn't see him even when facing in that direction—he was still obscured by the darkness. She wondered what the stallion looked like. "Just cut out the crap."

Scootaloo didn't know how to respond, so she said nothing. This apparently was the right thing to do, as she heard not a peep more from the stallion. She sighed. Kevin could be anywhere; maybe he was here in the South Pen, in another part of the prison, or perhaps they hadn't gotten him. But if he were free, why wouldn't he have stopped them from taking her?

Frustrated but with no way to find answers to her questions, Scootaloo curled up into a ball on the mattress and closed her eyes. If she couldn't do anything else, at least she could try to get some rest. Before the filly had reached the two hundredth sheep, she was out like a light.