Scootaloo noticed that the walls on either side had at some point switched from bare earth to the same stone of the steps that she was carefully trotting down. She wasn't quite sure what this meant; surely, she was entering a new part of the tunnels, but only time would tell whether this was any closer to the exit or if it just led deeper into the planet. Underground and without a compass, she had no idea what direction she was going. Not that it would be much use on this unfamiliar planet, anyway. She hadn't even been aboveground yet.

A few minutes passed and the filly kept trotting down the stairs, which had no end in sight. The stone walls to either side were composed of tightly-packed dark grey bricks, but their edges were ragged and uneven, a clear sign that they had probably been cut by hoof. As she descended further and further, the air got ever so slightly colder, sending chills up Scootaloo's spine. A light breeze tickled at her fetlocks and, thoughts elsewhere, Scootaloo's muscles automatically jolted forward, hooves slipping off the edges of the steps.

For a moment, the filly was thrust forward in freefall with her face heading straight for the stone. She let out a yelp and threw her hooves in front of her, hearing and feeling them impact against the rigid surface and, miraculously, saving her from more injuries to her face.

"Unngh," Scootaloo groaned, steadying herself in place. She breathed in deeply and then exhaled, repeating this a few times for good measure before she trotted forward again, this time a little more slowly and carefully.

And, of course, the breeze returned to tickle at her hooves. Scootaloo frowned and squinted ahead and, somewhere through the light of the buzzing fluorescent panels overhead, she could see an end to the stairs—a stone-floored area where the tunnel levelled off. Wherever the breeze was coming from, it had to be down there. And, of course, a breeze meant open air.

It took Scootaloo only another minute or two to reach the bottom of the steps, but what she saw wasn't what she had been expecting—the tunnel stopped off abruptly at a sheer vertical wall. Scootaloo blinked.

"Are you bucking kidding me?!" She stamped her hoof angrily on the ground and tilted her head forward, leaning her weight against the wall. Its surface, unlike the rough, uneven stairs and bricks in the wall, was perfectly smooth and even polished. Scootaloo could see her reflection when she pulled her head back up, jagged scar still marring her muzzle. Still and always. The filly sighed. "Am I really gonna have to walk all the way up there? Celestia above..."

That's when she felt it—the breeze once more, making the fur on her legs bristle outward. Scootaloo looked around frantically. "Where in the hay—?"

And then Scootaloo gasped for she had seen it. She crouched down in front of the left wall and peered through a little spot at the bottom where one of the bricks was missing. Sure enough, her face was filled with a rush of cold air. Scootaloo could feel her eyes drying out but she immediately became distracted by what she saw through the hole.

Oddly enough, the first thing she noticed was that whatever was through the hole looked very much like the end of the tunnel she currently occupied, with stone-brick walls and a smooth stone floor. What was much more intriguing about the sight, however, was not the room; rather, it was the beady black eyes that stared straight back at her. They belonged to a long white face with a button pink nose attached to a fuzzy grey body. The possum opened its mouth, baring its fangs.

Scootaloo would probably have screamed if not for something odd that she noticed in that moment; on the thing's forehead, right between its eyes, was a shiny star sticker. She could see her own expression, eyes wide and mouth agape, reflected in the tiny patch of silver.