//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Pinkamena // Story: From One to Another // by DerpyMoreMuffins //------------------------------// The Crusaders are looking for the pony with the most peculiar cutie mark in all Ponyville, and perhaps even Equestria itself: Rarity, the Unicorn Weatherpony. Her story could be the key, the way to find their destinies, no matter how odd or obscure. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle ride in a wagon attached to Scootaloo’s scooter, which she pilots with gumption and skill. “So where exactly do you think Rarity would be?” asks Scootaloo to Sweetie Belle. She shrugs her shoulders in response. “She could be just about anywhere,” said Sweetie Belle, “I mean, she just needs to be outside to do her job.” Scootaloo sighs and suddenly swerves out of the way of a puddle, which was being fed by a dark cloud pouring rain. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle are knocked off balance and fall down within the wagon. “And how well she does it,” says Scootaloo with a sheepish grin. Sweetie Belle and Applebloom laugh nervously as they pull their selves back to their hooves. Suddenly they are knocked out of the wagon as Scootaloo skids to a halt. “What gives?” exclaims an upset Applebloom as she dusts herself off. Ahead of the trio three rabbits had crossed the road, right in front of the scooter’s path. They are panicked and wild, seemingly running from somepony. Applebloom quickly notices the apples they carry in their paws. With a whoosh, the bushes they came from part yet again as a straight haired pink pony dashes through and gives chase to the bunnies. “Come back here, you little critters!” yells the pony, running toward them. They scatter and she chases them in a circular motion until she loses her balance and falls onto her face with a resounding thud. The bunnies escape through the bushes on the other end of the road and the Cutie Mark Crusaders run up to the pink pony’s side. “Big sis!” says Applebloom as she approaches her. Pinkamena rubs her haunch in pain, passing over her cutie mark: three bright red apples. She frowns and pulls herself up to her feet. “I’m sorry, Applebloom,” she says, planting her butt down to sit, “Rainbow Dash really should watch what her animals are doing.” “Oh, I know!” says Applebloom excitedly, with a big, wide, and perhaps somewhat unsettling grin directed at her friends. She turns her gaze back at Pinkamena. “Can you tell us how you got your cutie mark, Apple Pie?” The question hits its target like a lightning bolt, bringing tumultuous beads of sweat to her face. Applebloom smiles widely, her eyes lit up. Scootaloo audibly sighs behind her. “Well, umm, why would you want to know that story?” stammers Pinkamena with a suspicious smile. Applebloom jumps up and down. “We’re asking everypony how they got their cutie marks,” she says in the cutest tone she can manage. Sweetie Belle fidgets a little and Scootaloo stomps the ground lightly. Applebloom, however, is impervious to their dissent and continues to plead with her sister. “Can you tell us, please please please please please please!” “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you the story,” Pinkamena says, with a frown. Scootaloo huffs in the background, but it is lost on the others. Applebloom squeaks in glee and sits down excitedly, inviting her friends to do the same. They comply, but not without a little groaning and moaning. “It all began when I was a little filly,” she begins... Pinkamena was in the midst of an expansive grey field; she was like a beacon of color in an expanse of nothingness. All around her, her family toiled the same as her, rolling the many rocks on the farm into piles for cultivation. Pinkamena rolled one last rock into the pile she had been developing when she heard a bell ring from the farm house. She looked up sullenly, to see her sisters and parents going inside. Her father was holding the door open with a stern gaze in her direction. He walked in and silently directed Pinkamena to come in before closing the door. Pinkamena headed toward the house for supper, but stopped a moment and looked at the sky, filled with clouds casting a dark shadow over the land. She paused, as if to wait for something, but the sky remained the same as ever. With a sigh, she went inside. The meal was plain, unexpressive, and uneventful, same as any other meal. She couldn’t help but feel sad at this, knowing she had a family and a life, but no way to express herself. Pinkamena went to bed early with her sisters and parents, like she did every day, and got up early in the morning, as usual. She spent another few days pushing rocks and making piles, eating plain meals and sleeping, part of this eternal routine. Now, however, unlike any other time, she was questioning things. She felt like something was supposed to happen, like her life should have reached a new stage, as if she was so close to grasping her purpose, but was never going to reach it. Eventually she became revolted with her boring life. She didn’t know what she wanted to do, but she was extremely uncomfortable with how everypony was never happy, how she was never happy. During a meal a few days into this expanse of sadness she felt, she excused herself early, looking to create her own change of pace. “I’m gonna go outside,” said Pinkamena to her father. He sternly nodded. “Don’t you go too far,” he instructed. “It’s almost bedtime and we gotta be up early in the mornin’.” Pinkamena nodded. She was used to this. And used to being outside, as the terrain was all too familiar. She had seen it all a thousand times. It was boring. “Will it always be like this?” she pondered as she walked through the rock strewn fields to the edge of the farm. She nearly kicked a rock from her path before remembering that the rocks must be placed correctly and not disturbed. Everything must remain the same in this field, she thought. “Maybe...” she started, “maybe if I went out further, I might find something new.” The premise made her heart flutter, excitement building up in her body. And before she could remember her father’s advice, she set out to the edge of their farm. The trees beckoned her, as she had never before been among them. And she was on her way, nearly free, when she stopped, having heard a sound in the distance. It was a crash, or a snap, of some sort. She heard it again. The sound persistently echoed its way in the direction of the farm, getting louder. She looked to its source, and heard the sound of a tree being splintered. The forest was shaking; she began to feel the ground rumble beneath her. She looked toward her house, wondering if she should return, and saw her father open the door and rush out. He was far away, but he looked panicked, and frantic. He was looking all about the farm, and soon the rest of the family as well. The ground rumbled more, and the sound approached them steadily. Pinkamena nearly saw something in the trees far away. She looked at her father again. “Is he looking for me?” she wondered. She was so far away; he might not be able to see her. So she pondered if she should go to him, meet up with her family. She took a step toward the household. Then, a screech, a roar blared throughout the land, its sound hurting her ears as she clasped her hooves to block it out, and filling her heart with terror. It destroyed any pretense of logical reaction she may have had. Her instincts screamed that it was dangerous. She lost her capacity for logic, or thought... She lost any kind of will except for one. To run. She didn’t see what happened to her father or mother, or her sisters. She took off in the opposite direction, and ran as far as possible, until she couldn’t hear it anymore. She ended up in a cave in the forest, huddled in the corner. It was there she remained for the rest of the night. Though she had thought her life boring, she never knew true sadness, true misery. She had met it on this very night, however. The morning eventually came, and the sleepless Pinkamena stepped out of the cave and into the sunlight. The forest was strange and alien to her, as she had never experienced it before, but everything seemed normal, as if nothing had occurred. That is, until she looked skyward. Her heart felt terror once more when she saw the plume of smoke in the distance, from the direction where she knew she had come. She was drawn toward it, back toward her home. She had to go back, even though in her heart she knew the truth. She knew what was waiting for her. The smoke was her guide, a beacon and an omen all at the same time, and eventually she poked through the trees and onto the edge of the rock farm. It was a field awash with flame. The house, the tower, and the windmill were all gone, piles of ash among flaming embers and burning rocks. She poked about ashes, maneuvering around flames, digging through what used to be her house, to find more and more of nothing. Tears reached the end of her eyes as she frantically searched. She called for her mother, and yelled for her father. She shouted her sister’s names, thinking they might have hid among the wreckage. She searched and searched but nopony responded. She moved from the house to where the tower used to be, choking down thick sobs as she dug at the ash near the once sturdy doorway. She dug until something caught her hoof, and she quickly threw ash about in order to find out what it was. Her eyes widened as she pulled it out, her tears stopping as her heart was filled with another emotion altogether. Her body collapsed, and from her hooves fell a long, white bone. Pinkamena stops her story a moment, old feelings rushing back and filling her heart with sadness. She shakes her wave of emotion off, however, and quickly regains her composure. Fortunately, her moment of weakness is lost on the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who are sitting down now, engrossed in the story. Even Scootaloo, formerly uninterested with Pinkamena’s story, is avid to hear the whole tale. Sweetie Belle scratches her mane, staring expectantly at her friend’s surrogate sister, and asks, “So did you go back home after you ran away?” Pinkamena winces visibly for a moment, but shakes her head. She had glossed over the part of the story she didn’t think these children deserve to hear. “Well,” she begins, “I wanted a new life anyway, right?” she said, clumsily dodging the big issue. She smiles then, and looks compassionately at the children. The trio of fillies is still confused. “But don’t you miss your mom and dad?” asks Scootaloo. Pinkamena looks away, her mouth temporarily locked in a frown. “Yes, I do...” she says, quickly swiping a tear from her eye before the Cutie Mark Crusaders could see it. “But I still write to them from time to time,” she says with a capricious smile. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle nod, but Applebloom looks a little confused. “Anyway, after I left home I was a lot happier...” Pinkamena continues. Pinkamena wandered through a gray forest, adjacent to what she once called home. It was all gone now, and she knew she had no place there anymore. The path in front of her, that of the forest, and that of her life, was obscured and difficult to see, but she had no choice but to move forward. The horrors she had left behind chased her thoughts, and she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She hadn’t eaten in a day, and her belly rumbled to protest. She looked about the forest, but there was nothing but scattered pine needles. Even a patch of grass would have been welcomed with great pleasure, but there was none on the rock farm and none in the dark forest either. She softly moaned and continued to walk, ignoring her painful hunger and parched throat. Night came just as it always did, and, unable to see even her hooves in front of her face, she could continue no longer. She was more tired than ever before, but too hungry and thirsty to go to sleep. The atmosphere of the forest didn’t help either. She knew there were some very dangerous creatures in the dark. Maybe some of them were like that monster... She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to dodge the memories. Throughout the night she couldn’t help but recall, however, with little to do but wallow in misery. She remembered her father, looking out for her. If she had been close to the farm, had she not had that streak of inspiration, he wouldn’t have needed to look. Her whole family could have escaped. “It’s my fault,” she said to herself, with nopony else to blame. Her own voice was cracked, dry, and dull. It sounded unfamiliar, and alien, and she quickly shut her mouth. She did not speak again for the rest of the night, and got little rest for all the disconcerting noise around her. The sun rose and filled the forest with meager light, though its rays were mostly obscured by a thick canopy. Pinkamena managed to barely stand up, knowing she needed to move, but not knowing to where. Direction lost its meaning quickly, and she had no real idea where she was heading. A savvy pony might have used the sun’s position to track direction, and fed off the bounty of nature, but the child had no knowledge of such things. The trees had no fruit, only pinecones and sap. Ponies were never meant to thrive in a forest. The sun set once more, and she was forced to stop, again with no food or water. She was at her edge now, but she didn’t want to think about what would likely happen to her. She spent another night full of terror and panic. She rose the next morning on the edge of death. With barely any energy she continued to move. Eventually, she found a source of water, as she happened upon a marsh, filled with pools of stagnant, muddy water, and surrounded with reeds of various sorts. With no choice, she slurped the water, its foul taste meaning little in her will for survival, and ate the reeds, having no idea whether they were safe. After two or three days without water anypony would throw sense out the window. Partially satiated, she continued her search for some kind of civilization, when she eventually saw lights in the distance at dusk. Her heart filled with hope as she began to move, but her legs began to feel heavy, and her body hot. She was overcome with nausea, and her body trembled. She continued regardless, knowing she had no choice. She broke out of the woods and into an orchard of apple trees. She wanted to go further, but every muscle in her body resisted her. Unable to even call out, she collapsed and passed out of consciousness. Pinkamena woke up on clean sheets in a comfortable bed. Her whole body was aching, but she felt comfortable and safe. She yawned and rolled over, but, as she was still groggy from her long sleep, she went too far and fell off the bed, taking the sheets with her. She landed on the floor with a heavy and loud thump that echoed throughout the home she was in, not so much hurt as disheveled. She picked herself up, leaning on the bed for support, and heard muffled voices and the scuffle of hooves on the floors nearby. It got nearer until the door was opened, and two ponies entered: a large, red stallion with a split apple on his flank, and a rather rickety looking old green pony with an apple pie cutie mark. Pinkamena remembered the apple orchard she landed in briefly, and wondered if this was some kind of farm. “Well, it looks like the sleepy pony is awake,” said the old pony, a grin plastered on her wrinkled face. The young stallion nodded. “Eeyup,” he said curtly. Pinkamena smiled nervously, unused to this new company. The old mare got close to her and wrapped a hoof around her shoulder. “Why, Big Macintosh here,” she started, directing another hoof to the other pony in the room, “found you all alone in the orchard around dawn.” “Eeyup,” he said, nodding once more, and looking away from her at the wall. Pinkamena nodded and averted her gaze with a frown. The old mare smiled at her again. “You can call me Granny Smith,” she said. Pinkamena nodded. “Now then, little filly, what’s your name?” The question was friendly, but it made her uncomfortable nonetheless. She averted her gaze to the wall and nervously tapped the ground with her hoof, but the two continued looking at her expectantly. Figuring she owed them at least an introduction, she said, “My name... is Pinkamena...” “Now if that ain’t the prettiest name a little filly could have,” said Granny Smith with a pat on her head. Pinkamena nodded, but she felt a little faint and collapsed against the bed. Her tummy grumbled audibly. “Why, I think you could use some food dear,” said Granny Smith. “You sound famished. Big Mac, why don’t you go fetch some apples for our guest.” “Eeyup,” he said with a smile, leaving the room and heading downstairs. Pinkamena frowned and rubbed her empty belly, hunger paining her stomach. She looked up at Granny Smith who smiled cheerfully at her. Pinkamena smiled back. Big Mac brought a plate of apple to her, which she scarfed down quickly. As she still had an unbearable hunger, she asked for more immediately afterwards. She ate many apples before she felt full, each juicy bite nearly bringing tears to her eyes. It was some of the best food she had ever eaten. She stopped before biting into another, her heart being filled with guilt. What right did she have to impose on these ponies? Pinkamena had always been taught to be thankful by her parents. Granny Smith and Big Mac had been waiting there patiently the whole time, but they both noticed her change in mood. She looked up at them, barely stymieing the tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head to the others. “I... I took your food without saying thank you.” Granny Smith and Big Mac laughed heartily. “Now don’t you worry about that dear,” started Granny Smith, “we’ve got more where those came from. And wouldn’t we just be heartless not to help a little filly in need.” “Eeyup,” said Big Mac with a nod. Pinkamena sniffled, but rubbed tears out of her eyes, not wanting to levy her own burdens onto others. “Now that yer all fed, I’d like to ask you a question,” began Granny Smith. Pinkamena nervously nodded. “Why were you out there all alone? Where’s yer family?” The sudden unexpected question pierced poor Pinkamena’s heart, bringing all kinds of guilt and melancholy back to the surface. She heard the cry of that monster, remembered the terror, the fear, and the bone. She squirmed around in the bed, and buried her head under the pillow. Granny Smith and Big Mac were shocked at the reaction. The young stallion’s face scrunched up in worry and the older mare frowned with pity. Pinkamena hid from that look of concern, hiding from her feelings, and fears. Granny Smith took a step forward and put a gentle, comforting hoof on her shoulder. “Well, why don’t you get some rest,” she consoled the filly. “I reckon you’re still rightly tired.” Pinkamena looked out at the two as they left the room, and Granny Smith smiled compassionately at her. It was still daylight out, and the room was brightly lit, but Pinkamena felt her exhaustion and nausea catch up with her, and soon fell into slumber. Her sleep was far from sound. Plagued by nightmares, memories, and nightmares of memories, Pinkamena was tortured by her psyche and her body both throughout the day and night, frequently waking up sweating and hot, filled with nausea and unable to walk. Fortunately for her, however, there was always water to drink by her bed and sometimes food to eat. They were taking care of her with as much love one would direct at their own child. This was a comfort to her, and she was able to look at the future with something other than despair, for the first time in a while. Her rest was not peaceful, but it was at least comfortable. When the morning came, Pinkamena woke up feeling much better. She could stand, and walk, and maybe even run, though she dared not test that in the house. She no longer felt hungry or thirsty. The rest and food rejuvenated her body, and the kindness and hospitality healed her mind. It was the middle of the day, and she suspected that everypony was out working. She looked around the room she was staying in for a moment, having not paid attention before. It was sparsely decorated, but clearly had belonged to a filly. She wondered for a moment whom she was displacing, and figured she’d ask later. Pinkamena wandered out of the room, and into the hallway. One door was slightly ajar, and she could barely hear some sound coming from within. She peeked into the room, and the first thing she noticed was the tall crib in the middle of the room. She gasped as she noticed the foal lying within: a yellow filly with a red mane. She was sleeping soundly, her breathing rhythmic and calm. Pinkamena watched her for a while, absorbed in her peacefulness. She didn’t notice the hoofsteps behind her until a hoof landed on her shoulder and nearly scared her out of her skin. “Now dear,” said Granny Smith, “let’s not disturb little Applebloom here, alright?” Pinkamena nodded in response as Granny Smith closed the door and ushered her out. The filly hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...” she began, looking up at Granny Smith. The old mare smiled. “Don’t worry about it, everything’s fine, see?” she said. She began to move through the hallways and down the stairs, and Pinkamena followed her. She took a seat in a dining room area and directed the filly to do the same. She complied. “I feel better now,” said Pinkamena, nervously looking to Granny Smith and away. “I mean, thank you for helping me.” Granny Smith smiled. “Now, what we did for you is what anypony would do, dear,” she replied. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” She watched Pinkamena, who was shifting nervously within her chair. Pinkamena took a deep breath. “Can I... Do you think I could...” she stammered. Granny Smith watched her, keeping a bright and happy smile on her face all the while. “Could I stay here longer? I mean, if it’s okay...” blurted Pinkamena after a few moments of pressure. The old mare’s smile widened, exposing her clean dentures. “Of course you can dear,” she said, patting the filly on the head, which made her smile happily. “I can help out, if you need me to,” she said, giddy and barely suppressing an urge to jump around with joy. Granny Smith nodded. “We have been a little shorthanded around here,” she said. Pinkamena frowned. “Is this about that pony whose room I slept in?” she asked Granny Smith. The old mare gave a slight nod. “Well, she is...” started Granny Smith with a contemplative, but also somewhat lonely, look. “She’s away on business,” she finished. “Anyway, it’s fine if you stay in that room, don’t you worry dear.” Pinkamena nodded and smiled. “Big Mac’s working the orchard all by himself. I reckon he could use some help.” Pinkamena smiled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll help out Big Mac!” she said, rushing to the door. “Now he should be out in the orchard, dear,” called the old mare after her. “You go and find him.” Pinkamena opened the door and nodded, rushing out to help out her caretakers. Pinkamena gazed around the orchard in wonder. There were so many trees, all filled with delicious, juicy looking apples. It was colorful, and vibrant, and full of life: a whole different kind of farm than what she was used to. She was lost in the expansive and novel environment, but she knew she had to find Big Mac regardless. She passed through row after row of apple trees, gazing at them, enchanted by their color. They were all she could see all around her, the forest she had come from being far too distant to recognize. She was marveled on just how new everything was, and how different it was from the forest. It was organized. Pinkamena figured this must mean the orchard would also be easy to navigate. She thought wrong. Though the layout was neat and an experienced worker could identify the part of the orchard easily, Pinkamena easily found herself lost, the farmhouse far behind her. Big Mac was nowhere in sight. Her heart leaped with panic. Though the situation was by no means the same as her journey through the dark forest, it still brought back that same fear. She began to increase her pace and run, figuring if she covered more ground she might find Big Mac. She ran through the orchard, panting, but pressing on, unable to think of what else to do. She had to find Big Mac, so she could help out. Eventually her legs folded in and her body collapsed from exhaustion. With huffs and pants she rolled over to lay down, her breath fast and her heart racing. She looked up and around. Everything was the same, every tree looked like any other. She thought about how terrible she was that she couldn’t help them. It crossed her mind she might never find them, they might just leave her. She was alone, and that thought filled her with pain. She nearly started to cry, when suddenly she felt a strong hoof on her shoulder. She fell silent and looked up, to see Big Mac, just standing there above her with a kind smile. He didn’t say anything, but she knew what he was trying to tell him. “I’m sorry...” she said, getting up and hanging her head in shame. “I got lost... I wanted to help you.” Big Mac nodded his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. The phrase was quiet and subtle, but she understood it easily. She nodded quickly, and trained her gaze on Big Mac expectantly. He nervously shuffled his hoofs on the ground. “Umm...” he started, seeming unsure. Pinkamena’s expression quickly turned to a frown. Small beads of sweat formed on his face as he watched the filly grow more and more impatient. Big Mac shook it off and walked over to a nearby tree where he was previously working. He displayed a quick, sharp and effective kick with his back hooves that shook most of the apples off the tree and into baskets below. He turned back to look at Pinkamena, who was looking on in wonder. He nervously nodded to another nearby tree with baskets. The filly looked back to the tree and to him, a bewildered look on her face. Big Mac smiled and nodded. Pinkamena knew what he was implying, but she kept wondering if she could really do something like that. Big Mac nudged her toward the apple tree, softly but surely. Pinkamena squeaked a little as she was right in front of the tree. It was tall, and thick, looming over her. It seemed very much like an immovable part of the land. She looked at the young stallion behind her. He was still giving her his nice, compassionate grin. Pinkie smiled back and turned to the tree once more. With a loud shout she lifted her back hooves into the air and launched them at the tree with all the strength of her haunches and back. She shut her eyes as the moment of impact arrived, feeling an incredible amount of power in her body. She grit her teeth as she finally felt her hooves hit solid bark, with an incredible rush of air, and a sharp sound echoing into her ears. Just as suddenly, however, she stopped completely as the tall firm tree denied her kick and remained sturdy. She yelped as she lost her balance and fell onto the ground, her hooves aching in pain as she rolled to Big Mac’s feet. She saw the tree before her, completely unchanged. The baskets were free of apples. Pinkamena thought for a moment she saw an expression of shock on the stallions face as he surveyed her handy work, but it vanished and was replaced with a sympathetic sort of content nod. The red stallion helped her up gently, and she found she was able to stand quite well, her hooves not having been as damaged as she thought. Pinkamena looked at the tree, and her failure, her lips beginning to tremble at her incompetence. She looked at Big Mac apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she said to him, her eyes wide and welling up with tears. Fear built up in her chest, as she thought about how she failed despite how confidently Big Mac had directed her in the task. Big Mac shook his head and looked right at her. “Nope,” he began, facing her directly, and firmly, unlike what he had been doing before. “I’m sorry,” he continued, shocking her with his sincerity. Her mouth widened in shock, and Big Mac turned away from her again, returning to his nervous expression. She continued to stand there in front of him, not sure what he meant, or what she should do. “I... umm...” stammered Big Mac, attempting to explain himself. “I expected ya’ to be able to do more than any filly should.” The words he spoke to her were so genuine and caring; Pinkamena could have mistaken him for a sibling right then. “But, but I... I failed! It’s my fault!” Pinkamena replied. Big Mac shook his head again, and looked at her firmly. “Nope,” he said curtly, but with such strength and kindness she immediately felt just what he meant. Her downcast face quickly turned happy and she beamed at Big Mac. He was a little distant, and talked little, but she still felt like he was a pillar of strength she could lean on. His way of helping her was so easy to follow, with few words, only actions. He would buck trees, and she could see his muscles in action, the stances he took, and the power he displayed. There was a technique to this line of work, one that Big Mac had developed through experience and dedication. However, try as she might, Pinkamena could not get it right. Bucking trees had a level of technique to it, but it also required power she didn’t have. Disheveled and embarrassed from yet another failure, Pinkamena looked up at Big Mac, but as always he was not mad. “I can’t do it,” she said, stating what she had found to be the truth. She expected disappointment, but Big Mac was lenient instead, and helped her up once more. He took an empty basket, and he brought it to her. Pinkamena looked at it, as if asking what it was for, but Big Mac had settled next to another tree, brimming with apples. He looked at her, and at the basket, and his meaning clicked in her mind. She picked it up, and carried it on her back. It was rather bulky, but not heavy at all, so she brought it over to the tree. With the same matter of fact demeanor he had displayed before, Big Mac delivered a heavy kick to the tree. Set into motion, Pinkamena set about capturing the falling apples, and was able to capture a few. The majority, however, fell out of her grasp and onto the ground below. She sighed as she saw all the apples strewn across the grass. They fell quickly, and unevenly, and were hard to track. She couldn’t be everywhere at once. Big Mac set about gathering up the apples, putting them into the basket, and Pinkamena quickly moved to help him, rolling the apples by her nose and into little piles. Big Mac shook his head and put the apples into the basket. Looking at her pile being deconstructed, Pinkamena was taken aback at what she had done out of memory. It was almost as if that method which she had known all her childhood was being taken out of her. She remained there, unmoving, as it dawned on her just how unfamiliar this whole situation was. She got lost not because the orchard was a too large or confusing, but because it was strange and alien to her. Her hooves were very nearly locked into place as she remembered how she used to work, piling rocks all day. She snapped out of it when she realized that Big Mac was staring at her, and that there were tears in her eyes again. She threw the past away once more and returned to reality. Big Mac had collected all the apples, but he was watching her now with sadness and realization. It went on like that for a moment, with Pinkamena trying to maintain her stability and Big Mac trying to figure out what to do. “Come with me,” the stallion finally said after a few moments of thought. He guided her through the trees and she followed him without a thought. He was walking so surely, and with such purpose that she forgot about everything, and just focused on the reality around her. Regardless of how hard this work was, or how foreign it was, she liked it here. She was enchanted by the color, and the air, and the taste of the food. More importantly, she was drawn to the family. They had treated her so well, and cared for her more than she could have ever expected. Granny Smith was friendly and understanding, with wisdom that seemed uncanny coming from such a delightful old mare. Big Mac was shy, but compassionate and sturdy. She didn’t want to leave, but she felt like this life could slip away from her at any moment, like everything was fragile. She wanted stability, to have a life that she could rely on, never to be taken away from her again. What she had thought she desired before all of this was just a far away, rejected ambition. Big Mac had led her to the farm house and went inside. She followed suit, to find Granny Smith and Applebloom sitting down in the dining room. The foal was in a high chair eating softened, mashed apples. She was happy and cheerful, pushing them about her plate but also consuming them with glee. She saw Pinkamena and flashed a wide smile at her. While she was watching Applebloom, and smiling back at her, Pinkamena saw Big Mac whispering to Granny Smith and the two leaving the room without her. She almost went to see where they were going, but returned to the foal instead, enjoying her carefree innocence and wonder. She may have heard a few hushed words from another room, muffled by walls, but she disregarded them. It was only when Big Mac and Granny Smith returned that it occurred to her they were probably talking about her. “Pinkamena, listen,” began Granny Smith, walking over to her. Pinkamena turned to her, and immediately her panic and fear settled in once more. All of the kind acts from Big Mac, and the mare in front of her were thrown out by her mind. She had done too badly, and they were going to kick her out for it. She knew it, and mentally kicked herself for being so worthless. She should have worked harder, and tears began to fill her eyes, dripping onto the floor before she could suppress them. Granny Smith quickly put a hoof on her. “No, dear, it’s alright,” she said. “I’m sorry,” Pinkamena sobbed, rubbing tears from her eyes. “It’s just this is all so new to me. I’ll work harder, I swear!” She was down on the floor, kneeling before Granny Smith as if to beg forgiveness. Big Mac and Granny Smith both shook their heads. “Now come on dear, we don’t mind if you got a little trouble in the fields,” said the old mare, rubbing Pinkamena’s mane. “You’re still just a little filly, and this work is a little too much for you,” she said. Pinkamena sniffled and clenched her stomach as it filled with anxiety. “Now then, dear, don’t be sad,” she continued. Pinkamena looked back up at her. “We have something you can do. Pinkamena, would you like to foalsit little Applebloom?” Pinkamena gasped in shock, and instinctively looked over at the little foal. She was lying there, staring blankly at Pinkamena who was crying. Pinkamena realized how she may have made Applebloom feel, and quickly put on a smile. “Can I really? I would love to!” she said, looking at Applebloom. The foal laughed and waved her front legs about, knocking some apple onto Pinkamena’s face. She laughed as she wiped it off, licking some off as well. Applebloom giggled and the other two in the room chuckled, and Pinkamena was happy and excited. The child seemed so full of life, and it was as if she expressed something Pinkamena had lost. The day was drawing to a close, and she had a happy meal with the whole family. They didn’t talk much, but it was comforting to be so close to ponies. The food was sweet and flavorful, and everypony was full of good cheer. The filly felt so connected to this family, and even though she knew it was all new, and that old life was still fresh in her mind, she could forget that, and settle with them. She fell asleep that night content, knowing tomorrow she could babysit the little foal, and dreamed of the time they could spend together. Pinkamena cautiously tip toed down the stairway after she woke, still groggy from her long and deep sleep. She off handedly surveyed the room below her. It was still morning and sun was shining brightly into the dining room from the windows. Granny Smith and Big Mac were both at the table, possibly having just eaten breakfast. The stallion was staring into space, seemingly lost in thought, and did not notice her coming down the staircase. She hit a creaky board on the stairs, which blew her silence and alerted the room to her presence. Granny Smith turned her head toward her, and waved vivaciously at her. Big Mac looked up at her, shaking his mane once in seeming dizziness. He smiled slightly at her as she reached the bottom of the stairway. “Well, good mornin’ sleepyhead,” greeted Granny Smith as she sat down at the table. Pinkamena nodded with a smile. “Good morning, Granny Smith. Good Morning, Big Mac,” she said, looking at her hosts respectively. “Eeyup,” said Big Mac in response. He looked at her for a moment, but then averted his gaze and continued his pensive trance. Pinkamena turned to Granny Smith. “Well, dear, today I have to go out and run the apple stand out in town,” said the Old Mare to Pinkamena gently. “So we’ll need you around to watch little Applebloom.” Pinkamena beamed and nodded recurrently. “I would love to!” she responded with great excitement. Granny Smith chuckled and patted her head. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Big Mac looking at her somewhat wistfully for a moment, but he quickly turned his head. The stallion got up from his chair and looked briefly at Granny Smith with a nod, before leaving the house, calmly and assuredly. Pinkamena watched him with a befuddled expression about her face, her eyes squinted and nose scrunched up. “Umm,” she started, turning to Granny Smith once she had left, “what’s going on with Big Mac?” Her question fell upon the old mare like a grey cloud, and darkened her face, as a bit of gloom passed over her features. “Oh, don’t worry about him he’s alright,” she said, after contemplating a while. “He’s just a little fretful about some personal things, darling.” Pinkamena slowly nodded, but she still felt like he was a little off. She wondered for a moment if she had caused him some worry or pain, but she discarded the notion, not wanting it to be true. Granny Smith brought her some breakfast after a while, and they casually talked to each other for some time. Around noon Granny Smith got out of her chair. Pinkamena looked up at her with an expectant look. “I’ll be going out to run the store now, dear,” she said. Pinkamena nodded excitedly. “So I’ll be needin’ ye to watch little Applebloom. When she wakes up she’ll be needing food, but don’t be lookin’ here. You need something else.” Granny Smith pointed to a container that was full of mashed apples. “Ok,” said Pinkamena with a smile. Granny Smith then went over various foal care topics, rattling off a series of methods. Pinkamena listened to her vaguely, trying to make sure she had everything she needed, and thinking of what she could do with Applebloom. “You got everything then dear?” asked Granny Smith at the end of her tutorial. “Yes,” replied Pinkamena quickly, grinning brightly. The old mare chuckled and patted the top of her mane gently. “I’ll be back in the evening, dear,” said Granny Smith. She waved goodbye as she went out the door and took a path that led out to the town. Pinkamena watched her for a while until she could no longer see her. After that she turned around and began to walk slowly. Her body jolted, however, when she heard a sudden and loud cry from upstairs. She moved quickly up the stairs and burst the door to the foal’s room open. Inside Applebloom was crying, sitting upright in crib. Pinkamena briefly wondered what she wanted, but she noted she couldn’t smell any funny business, and that probably meant she was hungry. Granny Smith had told her not to use the solid food until later, she thought. She frantically scratched her head, trying to recall what Applebloom needed when she woke up. She had an idea, suddenly, as she remembered what the old mare had told her. Pinkamena ran downstairs, bypassed the food container and went into the cabinet. What she was looking for must have been elsewhere though. She nervously looked up at the stairs where the cries were coming from, and resolved to find it fast. She looked in the icebox and let out an affirmed gasp. There it was, the bottle of formula Granny Smith had directed her to feed Applebloom! She mentally kicked herself, knowing that she had probably been told exactly where it was, and this would have been a lot easier if she had just listened. “Oh well,” she said, running up the stairs with the bottle held in her mouth. The frantic filly entered the foal’s room with a start and stopped by the side of the crib. “Here you go little Applebloom, have some breakfast,” she said as gently as she could. The small foal looked up at her, her cries momentarily ceasing. Pinkamena slipped the bottle into her mouth as surreptitiously as she could manage. Applebloom made kind of a happy squeal as she began to drink. Pinkamena smiled widely as the happy baby warmed up her heart. Watching her there, such a delicate small pony, was full of wonder. Applebloom was pure and innocent, her heart unmarred by the fallings that plagued older ponies. The foal made her happy, plain and simple. After she had seemed to have her fill, Pinkamena took the bottle away from her. The foal sat there, looking contently at Pinkamena. It was such a calm, peaceful moment; Pinkamena scarcely knew what to do. She tried to recall what Granny Smith had said about this. After she ate, what was she supposed to do? Pinkamena recalled the answer quite quickly when she noticed how restless the little foal was. She seemed to be rolling about in the crib, bumping up against the sides and shaking the whole structure. Pinkamena laughed heartily and went to undo the door catch. “Aww, you need some exercise don’t you,” she said with a bright smile. Granny Smith had told her once Applebloom got up she should be let out to play. She let Applebloom get out of the crib, and onto the floor below. The foal laughed as she began to walk around the room. Pinkamena watched her happily, sort of dazing out as she observed the baby. “Oh no, wait!” she said suddenly. Applebloom had gone out the door to the room. Pinkamena didn’t know what she might do, or whether she was allowed to leave the room. Once again she chastised herself for not paying attention and ran out to follow the foal. Applebloom looked back at her, coming up with her face all screwy and nervous, and laughed loudly. Pinkamena got a little closer, and then the foal bolted. She went down the stairs with incredible dexterity for such a young pony, and then turned the corner. Pinkamena followed not too far behind. She rounded the corner to see Applebloom sitting there, taunting her with mischievous eyes and an impish grin. Pinkamena stopped short, leaving some distance between her and the foal. They waited, eyes locked for a moment. The filly took a cautious step, but it was in error. Applebloom turned and ran the other way, and Pinkamena tried to take off quickly. She slipped in her haste and tumbled over. She heard the baby’s laugh from the other side of the room where she had stopped. She groaned as she got up, but instantly began to sprint toward the baby. Applebloom turned around a corner, and kicked a table as she went by. It fell over, blocking Pinkamena’s path. She couldn’t stop quickly enough and tripped over it, sliding alongside a rug and rolling it in a bundle around her. She struggled against the rug, knowing she had to capture her objective. The foal walked up closer to her, giggling all youthfully and full of mirth. She was so close, yet there was no way the filly could catch her rolled up in the rug like she was. She gave up and sighed. Applebloom stopped giggling after a little bit and looked at her inquisitively. Pinkamena looked up and said, “Now aren’t I such a screw up...” The foal looked at her, a bit of a shrewd frown on her face. “All I had to do was watch you, but look what happened to me now,” she continued, shaking a little bit to no outcome. She strained her eyes and frowned. She had thought this would be easy, but somehow she messed up watching a baby. She didn’t listen carefully. She took her responsibility lightly. “I... I’m sorry Applebloom.” She was on the verge of tears. The foal watched her, but didn’t move away, or laugh, or jump about. She took a step closer, and then kneeled down next to her and nuzzled into Pinkamena’s mane. The filly felt such warmth from her, not just of the body, but of the soul as well. She stopped crying, and smiled at Applebloom. The foal went around to the other side of the bundle of rug and pushed it. It unfurled and Pinkamena was let free. The rug lay stiffly against the ground as Pinkamena slowly got up, her leg’s shaking a bit as she set herself straight. Pinkamena stepped up and hugged the foal, who laughed childishly for her. Applebloom looked at her for a long time then, before she started to look confused. Pinkamena waited nervously as she gave her a puzzled stare. “Apple...jack?” the foal said after a while, her words unstressed and pronounced oddly. Pinkamena was taken aback, seeing the foal must have mistaken her for somepony else at first. It was only now she had a good look. “Umm, no, sweetheart,” said Pinkamena, patting the foal’s head. “My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie,” she said, almost a little shocked at letting out her full name. She hadn’t done that for a while. The foal’s response was rather confused. “Apple... Pie?” she inquisitively responded. Pinkamena smiled, laughing a little knowing the foal could never pronounce her full name. “No, dear, that’s Pink...” she began when she was cut off by the foal. “Apple Pie!” said Applebloom loudly in protest, with a smile on her face. Pinkamena laughed and shrugged. She was used to ponies with apple themed names, the filly figured. “Ok, then Apple Pie it is,” she said, patting the foal’s red mane. She giggled and nuzzled her head against Pinkamena’s hoof. They played for a little longer, until the foal seemed to be tired. Pinkamena brought her back to the room and sat with her, changing her diaper after the foal had to relieve herself. It was stinky, but Pinkamena seemed to be performing better, and did it easily. The foal lay down groggily, and Pinkamena took a seat in a nearby chair. “Ok, sweetie, I guess it’s time for you to sleep,” Pinkamena said. “You’re such a cute foal, though.” She looked to the side, with a bit of a torn glance. The foal reminded her of innocent times, and ponies she had lost. Applebloom was just a foal, so she wouldn’t mind if Pinkamena unloaded a bit, surely. “I’d never seen a foal before, you know,” she started. “Well, I guess not since I was one myself... My mom always used to say I was the cutest little foal, a real darling.” Applebloom focused on her, a hard look in her eyes. “My dad wouldn’t say it often, but he loved me to. I know he did. They all did...” Tears settled on her eyes. “They wouldn’t go without me, I think. That’s why I lost them.” She settled her gaze on Applebloom. The foal’s lower lip was trembling. Pinkamena didn’t notice at first, but an utmost look of heartbreak was plastered about her face. Then, as Pinkamena moved in closer to comfort her, Applebloom began to cry louder than she had before, screaming in such a manner Pinkamena could tell it wasn’t need she was trying to communicate, but a great sadness. “Mama... Dada!” said the foal in between screams. Pinkamena’s look turned to one of utmost surprise. She tried to think about what the foal might want, but came up with nothing. It was if she brought out some suppressed sadness from the foal. “Oh no, oh no,” Pinkamena repeated, trying to calm the foal, but she resisted. The screams were deafening, and she had no way to stop it. “I’m sorry, Applebloom! I’m sorry!” Her words did not reach the foal. She looked around frantically, and tried to give the bottle to her. Applebloom merely kicked it aside, and it flew up and out the crib and hit the wall hard, bursting open. Pinkamena was completely clueless as to how she was supposed to handle this situation. She didn’t even think Granny Smith had any instructions for this kind of thing. It was just completely unprecedented to her. She couldn’t do this on her own. She took a look at Applebloom again, but she was showing no signs of calming down. Pinkamena turned back and ran out of the room. The screams followed her out the door of the home. “I need to find somepony...” she said to herself. Big Mac could surely be a big help to her. She took a look around, and ran out to find the stallion. She ran through rows of apple trees, and down hills and up again, but there was no sign of him anywhere. She covered a lot of distance, frantically looking about, but she didn’t find him. Eventually, she ran into a secluded clearing in the orchard that she hadn’t seen before. It was a serene, calm place, and coming in she slowed and couldn’t help but breathe in deep. It was mostly featureless, covered with verdant grass, neatly trimmed. Pinkamena felt a little calmer being here, as if she found something secret. She looked to the center of the clearing. A momentous wave of sadness washed over Pinkamena as she noticed what lay at the center. They were things she had never seen before, two monuments that stood over the grass. They weren’t that tall, but Pinkamena felt belittled by them. She didn’t know what they were, but they felt somber, and full of bad feelings. Pinkamena walked forward to the two towering stones that lied in the center, placed neatly next together. There were words etched on them, but she could hardly see them at a distance. She stopped in front of them, and sat down to read the words. What she saw brought to her a great deal of fright, but also realization, and sympathy. She was scared, but she knew there were more important things. The filly turned away from the graves, shedding a few tears on them, but began to walk away with a determined strut. Applebloom needed her. The day faded into twilight as Pinkamena reached the house once more. She could tell no one was home yet the moment she arrived, but that didn’t matter. She made a mistake, and she was going to fix it. As she walked up the stairs, and heard Applebloom’s perpetual cry, she thought about how happy the foal had made her, and in fact, how all of the Apple family had brightened up her sad heart. She wanted to make the foal smile. She wanted to bring joy into her life. She wanted to do this more than anything else in the world. The door was still slightly ajar from her earlier rush out, and she went through swiftly. Applebloom was as she had left her, in a fit of sadness, sobbing and calling for her parents. Pinkamena walked up gently. “I’m sorry Applebloom, but they aren’t here anymore,” she said softly, but didn’t deter the foal’s attention. “But I am, and I’m not going to leave.” She looked at Applebloom with sincerity. The foal looked back, moved, but not pacified. Pinkamena knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she had cheer up the foal. Pinkamena did everything she thought of to make a foal happy. She made funny faces, to no avail. She made funny sounds, but it was not enough. Pinkamena even tried singing, and dancing, but the foal did not pay her attention. Her determination was inexorable, however. A few failures could not dampen her mood. She went into the kitchen, and grabbed a bag of flour, with a sudden moment of inspiration. She brought it back up to the room, and beckoned Applebloom. After earning a few moments of the foal’s attention, she poured the whole bag onto her face. Applebloom stopped for a moment, looking at her with a wide eyed expression, tears still streaming down her face. Pinkamena smiled at her hopefully, but Applebloom’s peace did not last. Despite being denied, over and over again, Pinkamena felt she could not be deterred. Hearing that foal laugh was all she wanted, and she would do anything for it. She wanted that smile, and she was going to get it. She looked at Applebloom, and remembered her laughs from earlier, and the fun times they had spent together. It wasn’t long, but she still thought she had made a special connection. Her thoughts and memories brought her an additional idea, one that she sincerely hoped would calm the foal down completely. She walked up the crib, and undid the latch on it, leaving an opening for the foal to escape. Then Pinkamena took a step back, and got the foal’s attention. Applebloom looked at her, her face still sundered with pain and sadness. Pinkamena smiled, and tripped herself, falling over, and rolling over the rug. She did it with such force that the rug bunched up and rolled around her, trapping her within. She took one last gander at Applebloom as she wildly struggled to free herself. The foal was looking at her, a blank, dull look on her face. Then, slowly, her lips twitching all the while, her mouth morphed into a smile, and she began to laugh. It was like an orchestrated melody of perfection on Pinkamena’s ears, and she smiled widely and laughed with Applebloom. The foal got out of the crib and unrolled the rug again. “Apple Pie!” she said, nuzzling in on Pinkamena’s neck. Pinkamena hugged the foal tightly, and laughed and smiled brightly. “I’ll stay with you,” said Pinkamena. “I’ll stay with you forever...” Her eyelids felt a little heavy, and she noticed Applebloom’s activity catching up with her. The two lethargic ponies fell asleep in each other’s embrace. A few days passed, each full of cheer and happiness as Pinkamena spent time with the family. They were welcoming, kind, and supportive toward her, and she in return took great care of Applebloom. Though they started as strangers, the foal was very friendly and accepted Pinkamena completely. The filly cherished every moment, and soon she had been living with them for about a week. Pinkamena yawned, the seventh day of her new life having nearly ended. She was in the living room with Granny Smith and Big Mac, talking to them a little, but mostly just enjoying their company. The young stallion looked at Pinkamena and smiled softly, shaking his head. “Looks like somepony is tired,” said Granny Smith with a grin and a sympathetic countenance. “Eeyup,” echoed Big Mac. Pinkamena laughed softly and somewhat nervously, and yawned again. The young stallion and the old mare both laughed with her. Her eyelids were growing heavy, however, and she felt she really needed to go to bed. “Well, why don’t you go to bed now, dear,” Granny Smith told her softly. Pinkamena nodded languidly and somnolently, her head weighed down by her torpor. Yet another yawn escaped from her inimical gullet. Soon, another yawn resounded throughout the room; Pinkamena looked to her right to see it was Big Mac. He looked around nervously, and sheepishly smiled at her when he saw her staring. Pinkamena laughed brightly, her mirth like a euphonious bell that rang right there in the room. With her legs weighed down by her drowsiness, she trudged up the stairs. Against her expectation, she was not followed by Big Mac. She took a brief look back. He was lying on the couch, but still maintained his composure. Pinkamena figured that he likely had some more stamina than her. She passed Applebloom’s room, which was open a crack, and took a peek to make sure she was at peace. The foal was sleeping in her crib, quietly and with rhythmic breath. Pinkamena gave a tired smile and continued to her own room. As she entered it again, she briefly wondered about how comfortable she felt here. She could sleep carefully, without a care, despite the room having been hers for barely a week. That line of thought passed quickly, however, and she crawled into bed. This room was relaxing to her, and that is the only thing that mattered. She lied in bed complacently for a while, her mind drifting about to thoughts of her new family members. After some time in this drowse she heard a noise from outside, and a knock on the door. Her body was too heavy, and her mind too dormant to truly react, however. She vaguely heard voices from downstairs. They were mostly unfamiliar, but she thought she could make out Granny Smith talking some. Whatever these words were was a mystery, however. Despite a tingle of curiosity, she was soon completely asleep. When she woke in the morning, Pinkamena had mostly forgotten about the events that had taken place the last night. She stretched her legs and hooves out as she rolled out of bed. Landing softly on the hardwood floor, she took a moment to fix the covers and make the bed look nice. Pinkamena went straight downstairs, and she noticed both Granny Smith and Big Mac sitting there. As she descended, they noticed her and immediately turned their gazes her way. She stopped at the bottom, looking back. Big Mac was looking at her with a rather sullen, sympathetic gaze, but quickly turned his head to the side nervously. She turned to Granny Smith. “Good morning there, dear,” she said, her voice a little more mellow than usual. She was sitting in her chair, rocking it back and forth ever so slightly as she spoke. Pinkamena thought she caught some trembling in her steady movement. “Good morning, Granny Smith,” she greeted with a small smile. She turned to the young stallion. “Good morning, Big Mac.” He looked at her, his face so quickly turning it was almost jarring. “Uhh, good morning,” he said back to her with a nervous nod, nearly sweating. He looked at Granny Smith for a moment, and she made some kind of gesture Pinkamena couldn’t quite make out. He left without a word, seemingly rushing out of the door. The filly watched the space where he had recently evacuated for a moment, rather surprised by the sudden exit. “Ok then, Pinkamena,” started Granny Smith, snapping her out of it and turning her attention away. “I have something for you to do today,” she said. Pinkamena nodded slowly, but then became somewhat confused. “What about Applebloom?” she said, remembering her usual duty. Granny Smith shook her head. “It’s okay, dear, I’ll be watching her today,” she explained. Pinkamena looked away for a short time, but then returned her attention to the old mare and nodded again, this time more confidently. Granny Smith began, “We need you to go into town to pick up a package.” Pinkamene nervously shuffled her hooves about. “In town?” she said. She looked away and quietly said, “But... I’ve never been there.” Granny Smith patted her on the shoulder. “The town isn’t a maze, dear, you’ll be fine,” she said reassuringly. She immediately continued, “Now, the place you need to go is called Sugarcube Corner.” Pinkamena was still a little apprehensive, but she nodded in affirmation all the same. She turned to the door but the old mare stopped her. “Wait dear. You should get some breakfast first.” Pinkamena ate her meal slowly. Granny Smith was there with her, but she was somewhat off. Pinkamena couldn’t quite put her hoof on it, but it was like something was on her mind. They didn’t talk at all, and it seemed rather awkward to Pinkamena. After she had finished her meal, she got up again. Granny Smith looked at her, but stayed where she was. The old mare gave a short reminder of what she was supposed to do, and Pinkamena nervously nodded. She left the house with a sluggish, unsure gait. She knew from watching Granny Smith leave which direction the town was in, and set off down the road, and away from the apple orchards. It didn’t take her long to see buildings beyond the trees. The town seemed rather small, but she had never been in a town before. As she approached, she noticed something rather strange, but having little knowledge of what the town should look like, she couldn’t quite figure it out. Once she reached the end of the path and entered the town fully, however, exactly what was wrong hit her with gale-like force. There were many colorful, sturdy buildings, but she noticed there were also a few that were charred, broken down, or destroyed. Scaffolding covered various houses, with various workers working on repairs. Other homes were not so lucky, and had been razed to the ground. Deconstructed and taken apart, as if by some... foul beast. She stopped completely, her hooves planted firmly. She could do little more than stare in shock. Around her various ponies went about their business, passing her by, carrying bags, and going in and out of shops. There were quite a few, and she even saw some pegasi and unicorns. She had never seen them before, but the novel experience was off put by her bridled horror at the situation. For the first time in days, she remembered again, and she didn’t want that. She very nearly turned around right there and ran back to the Apple farm, but she knew Granny Smith was counting on her. Even more than she feared these reminders of her home’s ruin, she feared disappointing her new guardian. She gulped and took a few steps forward, looking down at the ground and taking it slow. She yelped and fell to the ground when she ran into somepony. She dizzily gathered her bearings and lifted herself up, holding her sore head and wincing from the pain. After about a moment, she shook off the pain and looked up. The pony she had crashed into was giving her a weird look. Pinkamena nervously smiled, but the white colored mare simply glared at her and huffed off. Pinkamena tried to laugh off the event as she continued forward. This time she was careful to look where she was going, and to survey the area to find the building Granny Smith had described. It should be a colorful place decorated like a dessert, which was likely unique. Looking around filled her heart with negative feelings and panic, however, and she wanted to get out of the town soon. Try as she might to focus, her attention was nearly dominated by the charred buildings, and searching for Sugarcube Corner was more difficult than she thought it would be. She bumped into a few other ponies, but they barely gave her a moment’s notice as they continued on their way. She was surrounded by others, but none had anything to do with her. It was odd, for the first time in her life she was near many ponies that cared little for her at all. She resolved to get out of the situation and return to her new home as soon as possible. She didn’t like being ignored, and she didn’t like being away. The new people, faces and events here were strange, and she felt like changing, or trying to make friends would only be a dire mistake. Sticking with the life she had now was the best thing she could do. As she was embroiled in thought, she saw a carriage pulled by two pegasi fly off into the sky. It caught her attention as she saw it go, and she looked at where it came from. It was a rather large, colorful building that looked like it was built from sweets and baked goods. She gasped as she realized she had found her destination, and galloped over to it, narrowly avoiding two bystanders in her hurry. She entered the door with a bit of a rush, nervously walking a few steps in. She took a quick look around, the vibrant setting catching her a little off guard, and she felt a little awkward. Pinkamena was almost certain she was in the right place, but she could be wrong, and it would be really embarrassing if she had made an error. “Hello there, sweetie,” said a mare inside the room. Pinkie looked up and saw a mare with a blue coat, and a swirly, pink colored mane, standing behind the counter. Pinkamena walked a little closer, her eyes darting about the room anxiously. “Umm... hello,” she said softly, but politely. “Is this Sugarcube Corner?” she managed to blurt out, her face a mess of anxiety. “Why, yes it is,” said the mare with a delightful grin. Pinkamena audibly sighed in relief. The mare looked at her for a moment, studying her. “Why, aren’t you just the cutest little filly? You remind me of a little sweetheart who was here not too long ago. Her mane was pink, like yours.” Pinkamena slowly and awkwardly nodded, small talk not being something she felt particularly adept at. “Umm, I’m her to pick up a... umm, a package,” she stammered uneasily. She looked a bit down and to the right, away from the mare behind the counter. “Aha, you must be Pinkamena!” the mare replied excitedly. “Oh dearie me, I should have known. Let me fetch that for you,” she said, taking a quick trip behind a door. Pinkamena barely had time to contemplate before the mare had returned with a white box held on her back. She it down on the counter and smiled. “Thank you... umm,” Pinkamena began, attempting to be grateful. The mare happily nodded and came from behind the counter to help secure the package on Pinkamena’s back. “You can call me Mrs. Cake, sweetie,” she said as she tied the package on, not too tightly, but quite balanced. “Thank you, Mrs. Cake,” Pinkamena finished with a slight smile. She left the shop to enter the town again, and saw the traffic passing through. She knew she could not afford to bump into anypony, lest she risk ruining the package. “Ok,” she said under her breath. “They’re counting on you.” She walked through the town carefully and with great focus. She was able to avoid crossing other’s paths, and she even managed to avoid looking at the rubble. With that off her mind, she was feeling more confident, livelier, and her task was a lot less foreboding. Soon she exited the town from where had she come, and sighed in relief. The hard part was behind her, and now she only had to get back to the house. With a load taken off her mind, she began to ponder what was in the package. It was from a bakery, so she figured it was some kind of baked good. She slowed a little as she wondered what exactly it was, and why she had been sent to get it. It made little sense to her. The odd errand was a pretty strange change of pace for her, but she realized that hadn’t been the only strange thing that happened today. Big Mac was acting extremely oddly and nervously, and left without a word. Granny Smith was really awkward around her too. She would normally do this kind of errand herself. Pinkamena slowed even more and frowned. She thought hard about why the two might act like that around her. Everything had been fine the night before. Suddenly Pinkamena remembered the strange voices from the door when she was going to sleep the previous night. She had censored the event because of its weirdness, but she was now sincerely worried about its meaning. Who had showed up at the house and talked to Granny Smith? Why were they there? The filly sweat as she considered it could have been about her. Maybe they were strange ponies who were trying to take her away. They could have been anypony, and the ambiguity dug at her consciousness like a sharp rock. Those voices, the strange attitudes, and this odd errand, all connected in her mind to create a kind of paranoia. She stopped when she recalled the state of the town. It was damaged, like her previous home. She didn’t know why, but maybe it had something to do with those strangers. She thought maybe somepony had figured she was connected to disaster, and came to apprehend her, and the errand could be a distraction. All kinds of thoughts flittered about her head, and her panic grew more and more, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She burst into a gallop toward the house, little care in her mind for restraint or the box on her back. She didn’t notice it fall off and tumble into a nearby ditch. Pinkamena merely headed for her new home, that she was so very afraid of losing. She burst into the door and into a dark room, and shouted for Granny Smith. There was no response. She gasped and ran up into Applebloom’s room. The foal was not there, her room seeming bare and empty without the sleeping foal. Pinkamena stopped and waited there for a moment, taken completely aback. Tears began to flow from her eyes and she sobbed fearfully. She felt abandoned, and every bit of stability she had made was slipping away quickly. She turned and quickly searched the house, but it was dark and completely empty. She scoured the house to no avail, and she felt her heart being squeezed, tightened by her fear. The place was evacuated completely, and without her. She left, with nothing else to look for there. “Why?” she said between sobs as she scoured the orchard. “I’ve been good this time,” she choked out. “I did everything I was supposed to.” She then noticed there was nothing on her back, and screamed with utter horror. “No, no, no, I’m sorry,” she said as she looked around the path for the box she must have dropped. She found it, crumpled and covered with bits of leaves and grass, small amounts of what looked like frosting leaking out. She tied it on her back. She looked around, for anywhere they might have gone. She wanted some kind of sign, some signal everything would be alright. She looked around the orchard for a while, but couldn’t find anything. Unbridled sobs and tears escaped from her as she lost more and more hope. She realized how long she had been gone in town as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The light was leaving the area, and her time was running out. She walked through the orchard, looking for Big Mac, who had always been so nice to her, even if a little shy. She wanted to see Granny Smith, who could always make her feel happy, no matter what. She wanted to see Applebloom, who she felt such a powerful connection with. She stumbled into a corner of the farm she had not been in before. It held a large red barn, which Pinkamena could kind of notice seemed to be filled with light. She felt a sting of hope in her heart and walked toward it, this time careful not to knock loose the disheveled package. Standing in front of it, she noticed there was definitely light in there, and stopped a moment. She wondered if everypony was really in there, or if that would be too good to be true. She put a capricious hoof on the door and looked away as she pushed. Light and sound flooded over her as it opened, and small bits of colorful paper flew about the air, causing her to step back. She squinted to see the forms of many ponies within. “Surprise!” shouted a multitude of voices at her from within. The barn was full of ponies, of all sorts. They were all smiling widely at her as she awkwardly shuffled in, looking around, and scouring the whole place for three special ponies in particular. Then, she saw, next to a yellow coated filly with a green, pig tailed mane, and near a stallion in cow boy garb, were Granny Smith and Big Mac, with Applebloom sitting on top of her older brother. She looked at them for a moment, and they smiled at her widely. Then, she burst into tears as she ran toward them and gave as big a hug as she could manage to Granny Smith, burying her face in the old mare’s chest. Everypony in the room watched her as she cried there, nopony speaking a word. Then, Big Mac came up close to her and joined the hug. “You’re here!” Pinkamena cried. “I got the package! It’s a little crumpled, but I got it!” Pinkamena put it down, and opened it, to see the broken up remains of a cake, with text on top that was now smeared and illegible. Granny Smith smiled compassionately, as other ponies throughout the room exchanged confused glances. “I thought you were gone. I thought I had lost... my family... again.” The others held her tight. “It’s all right, Pinkamena,” said Granny Smith tenderly. “We would never leave you. You mean too much.” Pinkamena sobbed a little, but looked at up her and began to smile. “We’re all so sorry we made you feel like that.” Everypony had a bit of a sad look in their eye. Big Mac held her tight and let Applebloom come down and nuzzle the filly. “Apple Pie!” said the foal, getting in closer. “We love you, Pinkamena,” said Big Mac with a nervous smile, but complete fortitude and sincerity in his voice. The filly nodded, with tears in her eyes. “We heard about what had happened, dear,” began Granny Smith, looking at her with great wisdom and compassion. “How much you had lost. Some of the royal guard came here and asked about you last night.” Pinkamena nodded, slowly. Even hearing about this didn’t make her afraid if Granny Smith was saying it. The old mare’s sincerity and heart made her feel safe. She knew she was truly happy her, surrounded by her new family. “Will they take me away?” Pinkamena said meekly, a little bit of apprehension still digging at her. But everypony shook their heads firmly. “Nope,” said Big Mac, pulling out some papers from his saddlebags. Pinkamena read the text on them, and her eyes widened when she realized what they were. “As of today, you are officially adopted into the Apple family,” said Granny Smith with a wide grin. Pinkamena’s mouth curved upward, steadily more and more, until her smile was so wide it strained her face muscles. Happiness filled every part of her body, more than she could have possibly ever imagined. “We can be a family?” she said, nearly overcome with delirium. She could scarcely believe it to be true, but there was the proof right in front of her, held in Big Mac’s hoof. It was the kind of stability she could have only imagined. They both nodded at her. “Forever?” They smiled and laughed, and nodded again. Finally, the joy overcame her, and she screamed loudly with such joy and jubilation that it was passed onto everypony in the room. It was a feeling she could never describe, like complete fulfillment. She hugged Granny Smith tight, and then Big Mac, and Applebloom, and even a goofy looking orange colt with a cowboy hat and wheat in his mouth. She felt Big Mac prod her, and she looked at him. He smiled and pointed at her flank, and she turned to look at it. Three red apples had appeared, arranged in a triangle of sorts. She gasped and squealed with glee. “My cutie mark!” she shouted. “I really am a member of the Apple family now!” She smiled with joy, and all the members of her new family throughout the barn stomped the ground with fervor and joy. She smiled so widely. Nothing would have to change. She could live with her new family, and work for them, and raise her new little sister. Someday she might be able to do hard work, and collect apples, and fix pipes. It was stable, and it was simple. It was everything she needed. At a time she had wanted to expand her world, to look for things that were fun, but she knew she didn’t need that anymore. She had a family again, one that she would not lose another time. She spent a while looking at her new cutie mark, it standing as a symbol of her new life, permanent, and indicative of her role and path in life. “And that’s how I joined the Apple family and earned my cutie mark,” Pinkamena says to the three Crusaders who are all sitting down in front of the pink mare. “Some of the work is hard, but I love my family more than anything.” Sweetie Belle smiled and looked at Scootaloo, who was gaping in awe. After she noticed Sweetie Belle staring, though, she quickly reverted to a scowl and shrugged. Applebloom was smiling as well, but she also had a bit of a perplexed gaze about her. The filly wondered about the story she had been told. She remembered Apple Pie being there with her as long as she could remember, but as far as she thought she had always been part of the family. She never knew Pinkamena had another family. She had never heard of those letters she supposedly sent. She was about to raise an objection when Sweetie Belle interjected, “I bet my sister has an even better story!” Scootaloo smiled wryly and looked to the side. “Yeah, that’s enough sappiness! Let’s find some action!” she said, getting up on her Scooter. Applebloom looked back at Pinkamena for a moment when she was interrupted again. “Come on Applebloom,” said the other Crusaders in unison. Applebloom looked at them and nodded, walking toward the scooter. “See you later, Apple Pie,” said the filly to her sister as she left. Pinkamena smiled and nodded at her, her face with compassion, but also a nearly undetectable sadness. The Crusaders took off, continuing their search for the story of the most interesting pony in town. Pinkamena’s story weighed heavy on their hearts, but they knew they had more tales to hear.