It's been a few days since I've been able to write, but you probably know that by now. I'm in some sort of jail cell, I guess. Kevin and I ended up landing on the Kindred planet, but it didn't quite go as we hoped. Though, to be honest, I don't know where he is... I can only assume (or hope) that he got away somewhere. Maybe he's looking for me. I can't really count on that, though.

I'm really glad that they gave you back—this is embarrassing, but I was really afraid of losing you. I've left everything from home far behind (well, besides the ship of course!) and yet you're a comforting connection I have to my life back there, even if I am trying to leave that all behind. I don't know what I would have done without you.

I'm a little confused, too. If they really can understand the script I'm writing in, how come they couldn't immediately figure out where I'm from? Isn't there enough evidence in this journal? Meh. We'll see soon enough. I'm gonna go eat for a bit, and then I'll probably draw somepony in here. Bye for now.

~Scootaloo

The filly glanced back over the page in her notebook that was adorned with her messy scrawl, making sure there were no blatant errors or things she wanted to add. Seeing that there were not, she set the notebook aside on her cot so she could stand up and hop off the thing. Scootaloo walked over to the front of the cell, right by the bars, and reached down to lift up her plate with a hoof. She walked back over to her cot and set the plate down in front of her.

It wasn't filled with anything particularly exciting—there was just a lump of mashed potatoes on one side and two carrots on the other—but it was plenty to keep her nourished and it honestly looked pretty delicious in her hungry state. Scootaloo only sat there looking at the food on the plate for a few moments before diving in, her teeth making quick work of the potatoes.

"You sure look excited to be eatin' those," Mochi said. She sat on her own cot in her own cell, perched over her own notebook with a pen in her hoof.

"Mmmff... yeah," Scootaloo replied, pulling her muzzle out of the remaining food. "They gave me some food last night, but it wasn't really enough. Luckily they gave me carrots today," she said, eyeing one of the long orange things.

Mochi nodding, showing that she understood. "Yeah, it's always a bit of a mess to try and figure out what they'll give ya from one day to the next. It's a lot better once you're allowed to go up to the dining hall—you'll see. They got a bunch of different vegetables you can choose from, and sometimes even some fruit or some pasta."

Scootaloo's belly rumbled. "Oh, man, don't make me think of that stuff." She picked up a carrot and bit into it. "What're you up to?" she said in between bites.

"Oh, not much," Mochi replied, smiling. "I'm working on this novel, you see, and I'm trying to write a little chapter every day just for the practice."

"Ooh, that sounds like a cool idea. How long have you been doing that for?"

Mochi sighed. "I'm not exactly sure... a few months, maybe? Not that long, to be honest—it took me a while to get the idea. My main problem is the pacing, y'know? I've written so much, and yet... so little has happened."

Scootaloo scratched the back of her head. "I guess it all comes down to knowing what to keep and what to leave out."

"Oh, for sure," Mochi replied. "I've just gotta make sure I keep the commenters happy..." she trailed off, looking at nowhere in particular.

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. "The what?"

Mochi let out a short, shrill giggle. "Nothing, nothing! Sometimes I just say things all silly-like."

"Heh, I know what you mean," Scootaloo said. "Reminds me of another pink earth pony I once knew..."

"If she's anything like me, I'm sure she's a real charmer," Mochi said with a wink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to writing. My story won't write itself!"

"Good luck, Mochi," Scootaloo said. She turned to her plate; as the thing was now empty, Scootaloo moved it onto the floor beside her cot. Taking its place in front of the filly just a moment later was her notebook once again, and she opened it to the first fresh page. Pen in hoof, she started to sketch out the contours of the mare in the cell across from her, humming a familiar melody along as she drew.