I stood on a low hill, gazing spellbound at the apple orchard. It was late in the afternoon, and the low sun made the apples on the trees shine a bright red between the snow cover. It looked beautiful. Of course we had parks in Baltimare, but a true, genuine, healthy apple orchard was something I had never seen before. However dumb it sounds, I suddenly realized that every apple I ate had grown on a tree just like these ones. I’m such a city dweller, aren’t I?
Truth is, I didn’t just hold to enjoy the scenery. The main reason for me stopping was to gather some courage. I was going to the home of Applejack, the element of honesty, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. The chances of meeting her and speaking to her were quite high. I swallowed hard. From up here on the hill I could see her, walking about. She was plowing the path, shoveling away the snow with the energy of a workhorse.
I couldn’t just walk up and speak with one of the elements of harmony! I didn’t deserve that. My crusade wasn’t that important. But then again, from what I’d read in magazines and newspapers, Applejack was a country mare, a workhorse. Maybe just walking up and saying hi was exactly the right thing to do…
Some rabbits made the bush next to me rustle. To me, it sounded like an air horn. I jumped, but landed quickly and ducked down. Oh! I hope Applejack hadn’t seen me.
“What should I do?” I asked myself. I started biting my hooves. “Wouldn’t it be extremely weird to just walk up to her and ask her about her sister?” I shook my head. “Not if I’ll explain my crusade to her. But can I do that? Am I even able to talk when she will be standing right in front of my nose?” I knew the answer: no.
I did know about the sisters of the mane six. I knew about Apple Bloom, who was the sister of Applejack, Sweetie Belle, who was the sister of Rarity, and their friend Scootaloo. They were mentioned in an interview I read, complete with photos. But my knowledge was limited to that one interview, and it hadn’t said a word about the term ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders.’
“Oh. It is weird.” I lowered my head in defeat. The second leg of my journey came to an end even before it could begin. And only because of my damn shyness. Was it shyness? Or doubt? Both in equal measure, creating a very nasty cocktail in my heart. With a heavy sigh, I gave up. “I am weird.”
“Indeed you are, talking to yourself like that.”
I jumped at the sudden voice. My heart felt as if it were a basketball.
“Surprise!” Apple Bloom said, jumping out of the bushes with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle following behind.
I wasn’t able to say anything to them yet. First my breathing had to calm down—a lot. Those weren’t rabbits which had hidden in the bushes.
“What… wh—huh?” It wasn’t the best thing to say, but those were the only sounds I managed to produce.
Apple Bloom stepped forward. “We snuck around you when we saw you spying the farm.”
Well, they did a wonderful job at that. “I-I-I wasn’t eh…”
“At first we didn’t know what to think of you, Mister,” Sweetie Belle said.
Scootaloo jumped up. “Yeah, but then we heard you talking about a crusade—“
“And now we’re curious,” Apple Bloom finished. “Do you have a cutie mark problem perhaps?”
I don’t know how I did it, but my heartbeat returned to a slightly normal cadence, and I found myself able to speak again. “I… I am, in fact. I am looking for the interpretation of my cutie mark. I figure there’s more to it than meets the eye.”
Scootaloo walked around me to look at my cutie mark. I could see her frown. “Yeah, it does look pretty vague… What is it anyway?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. My parents think it’s a sugar cube, but… well… Let’s just say that a career as a sugar factory worker is exactly as fun as it sounds like.”
I sat down and explained the whole story, how I traveled to Canterlot and then to Ponyville. Of course, I left a couple of painful details behind. Things that weren’t relevant to my crusade, although they had helped to start it.
“It’s sounds like you have a problem, Mister,” Apple Bloom said. “But don’t worry. The Cutie Mark Crusaders are here to help.”
I couldn’t tell how grateful I was. “Thank you so much. My name is Sweet Tooth, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Sweet Tooth,” Apple Bloom said. “I’m Apple Bloom, and this is Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. And together we are the Cutie Mark Crusaders, YAY!”
That last part they shouted together in unison, and I winced at the sudden sound.
Together we walked away from the hill and from the farm. I was both thankful and disappointed because of that. Thankful that the decision whether or not to talk with Applejack was made for me, but disappointed that I missed out on a chance to talk with one of my great heroines; that would have been quite something. Sometimes my mind is quite a paradox. But it didn’t matter what I felt like; now it was crusading time.
“Follow me, everypony,” Sweetie Belle said. “I have a beautiful idea.”
We reached the outskirts of Ponyville, and to my surprise, it was only minutes before we walked on its main street. Ponyville was so tiny, perhaps even smaller than a district in Baltimare; maybe even smaller than the rich district alone.
But it was wrong of me to compare Ponyville with Baltimare, because compared to the big city, Ponyville was like a lovely painting. Little limestone and wooden houses with straw roofs covered in snow dotted town square. My head kept swaying from the left to the right. To me, it looked as if I had been teleported into a fairytale—or perhaps a pretty dream. If that was the case, then please, please, please don’t wake me up.
There were some ponies outside. Apparently, they didn’t like fancy garments in Ponyville, for apart from scarves and knitted hats to keep themselves warm, there wasn’t a single ruby-inlaid brooch to be seen. I had thought that the worker’s district in Baltimare had this rustic and coarse character; I now realized how wrong I was. Ponyville was the most charming place I had ever visited, and I promised myself that if I would go looking for a place to settle down, it would be right here.
Leaving the residential district of Ponyville behind, The CMC’s and I soon found ourselves on a dirt road leading beside a patch of forest. It didn’t look like we were going to do something in the town at all, but we were also not going inside the forest. We followed a bend in the path, leading up a small hill. Once we stood on the top, I gazed down at a pretty sight; a lake.
Compared with the Baltimore harbor, it wasn’t more than a puddle, but that didn’t stop everypony from playing around with the ice. Some ponies were ice-skating on the frozen lake, twirling around in graceful dances or trying their best to go as fast as they could. On our side of the lake, a couple of elderly ponies were fishing, their lines dipped in the water through a small hole. There were shouts and calls and laughter and fun. I could feel the ambiance of their merrymaking in the cold winter air. My heart lighted up, and I smiled.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked Sweetie Belle.
“Look there,” she said, pointing at the far end of the lake. Something curious was going on there. Using an improvised winch which ended in an iron claw, some ponies were busy hauling large chunks of ice out of the lake; ice as clear as a crystal window. Suddenly, the rumble of a chainsaw mingled with the cries and laughter of the playing ponies, and I could see how they cut yet another massive block out of the ice.
“What are they doing?”
But before Sweetie Belle could clarify, Scootaloo jumped up. “Oh! I get it. You want to try making ice sculptures!”
Sweetie Belle nodded.
“That’s a great idea,” Sweetie Belle said, eying my cutie mark. “Maybe your cutie mark resembles a block of ice, ready to be sculpted into a beautiful piece of art.”
I cringed at the word ‘art,’ the memories of my painting attempt fresh in my mind. The memories, and also the feeling of failure. “I… eh…” I turned my head around to tell the Cutie Mark Crusaders that I had given up on arts, when my gaze fell upon my cutie mark. It did look like a chunk of ice. Maybe even more like a chunk of ice than like a painter’s canvas. Canvases are rectangular, after all, and ice cubes are perfectly square, just like the picture of my cutie mark. Square and white, reflecting the snow in its transparent surface. I decided that it was worth a try.
We walked down the hill and towards the ice sculptors. “Hi there,” I said to a stallion as he laid down his hammer and chisel to admire his work. “Can I try that myself, perhaps?”
“Sure can,” the stallion said. He nudged behind him with his head. “You can have that block over there. There should be a hammer and a chisel lying around somewhere, and probably some safety glasses too. If you wanna use the chainsaw, you just ask me, alright? You got any experience with ice sculpting?”
I was a bit amazed at the friendliness of the stallion, letting me borrow his ice and his tools like that. If I would have asked the same thing in Baltimare, they would have charged me for sure. “Eh… no,” I said.
The stallion smiled. “Doesn’t matter. I bet you’ll be a natural, judging by our cutie mark.”
I felt a little déjà vu moment coming up. I just hoped that this experience would end in a more positive way.
At least The CMC’s were positive. “Have fun making stuff, Sweet Tooth,” Apple Bloom said, “we’re gonna go ice-skating, but we’ll meet up when you’re done.”
I nodded, put on the safety glasses, and set to work.
I had a nice image in my head about what I wanted to make. I was thinking about an image of Princess Celestia, rearing on her hind legs. That would make for a nice piece of decoration—until the sun would start to shine. I chuckled at the irony of that. I asked the stallion with the chainsaw to cut out the rough shape of my creation. As the rumbling of his machine stopped, the image was even clearer visible in the ice. Now it was my turn.
Clink, clink, clink, my chisel resounded, as I chipped away bits and pieces to bring out my design. Soon the base of my statue was covered in bits of ice, and my tongue hung out of my mouth. Sometimes I stopped and stepped back, looking with a critical eye to my creation. Just as with painting, I started from the top to the bottom, working my way down slowly.
Clink, clink, clink, CRACK!
“Oops.”
There went most of Celestia’s light, flowing mane, which now lay at my hooves in a heavy chunk of ice. Darn. Now I couldn’t finish her. I felt panic creep into my nerves. What to do? What to do?
And then I got it. I decided to make Princess Luna instead. She was smaller than her sister, so I figured I could use the smaller piece of ice I had to make Celestia’s little sister. I mean, you have to start small with every task, right?
I went back to work again.
Isn’t that the basis of a creative mind? I thought as I worked. I meant finding out-of-the-box solutions to difficult problems. I had just come up with a creative solution to my problem, so obviously I possessed a free creative spirit. I was already free, as I had left behind my ‘family’ and home. So creativity would be next, finding a way into my heart. Yes. I think I could already feel it. I could feel that this was what I was meant to do. I felt one with the sculpture. It was fun too. Crack! there went another unwanted piece. Crack! There went another. The creative energy coursed through my veins as I worked, making my strikes sure and powerful.
Crack!
A little too powerful apparently.
Slowly, half of the statue slipped away to fall with a thud in the snow below, leaving me staring at half a princess. I couldn’t believe it. Was I really that clumsy? With a sigh, I realized that I was, but I couldn’t give up. If I would have even half of a creative mind, I had to find an out-of-the-box solution. My mind began racing through alternative options, new ideas or plans how I could finish this work. My head stuck with princesses. Suddenly, the answer came to me, and I slapped my hoof against my forehead. Of course! Twilight Sparkle, my ultimate exemplary pony. Why not make a statue out of her, the mare who inspired me so much with her friends; the mares whose photo’s silently convinced me to go on this crusade to look for my inner self.
I thought I could still make such a statue, as I figured that I had enough ice left. There we go…
But as soon as I landed my hammer on the chisel, everything went wrong. A massive crack sprang into my statue, snaking from top to bottom, making that ominous sound all cracks make; that sound of destruction.
“No, no, no, no!”
In a moment of desperation, I wrapped my fore hooves around the statue, hugging it tightly in a foolish attempt to hold it back together. The crack kept spreading. It sprouted tinier cracks which fanned out to the side. I felt my statue collapse. I jumped aside as I felt the weight shift. I didn’t want to be standing under it when it would collapse—or maybe I did, because I knew that my second attempt went down in an avalanche of ice.
And that is exactly what happened. I tripped and fell on my back as my statue collapsed right in front of my eyes. After a rumble and the sound of rolling ice, there was nothing left but a small little stump, barely bigger than a horseshoe.
I saw everypony gazing at the miniature avalanche which I had just created. Even the chainsaws stopped rumbling as their wielders watched me. Once again, the awkwardness had found me, and I plunged down into it. I heard hooves trotting towards me. Please, everypony. Leave me. Leave this failure!
“Sweet Tooth, are you alright?” Apple Bloom said.
I took her hoof and scrambled upright. I felt my cheeks reddening despite the cold breeze. “P-p-please don’t mind me, I’m sorry for the mess,” I said, hoping that everypony could hear my voice, which had grown meek with embarrassment.
I brushed the bits of ice off my hooves and turned to face the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but only Apple Bloom stood by my side.
“What is it?” Scootaloo said, looking at what had remained of my work with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s a… no, wait,” Sweetie Belle said. “Is it a wheel?”
“Nah, it’s not round enough,” Scootaloo said.
“Maybe an eye?”
“Nope. There’s no iris or highlights.”
“A ball?”
“As I said, not round enough.”
I didn’t want to hear what they were saying. Each guess was a stab through my heart. I had failed again. I wanted to throw myself in the lake and hide underneath the ice, until everypony had forgotten about my stupid clumsiness. I could have hurt somepony!
The same dark veil was being drawn over my mind. Why was it that creative things never worked for me? How could it be that moments before I had felt the pure ecstasy and fun of creating things, and then almost buried myself underneath an icy avalanche?
My head became heavy; my ears drooped down. As my gaze wandered more and more to the ground, I suddenly saw Apple Bloom looking at me. She saw that I was not alright, not at all.
“You sure you’re okay?” she said with a gaze so earnest, it didn’t fit a filly her age.
I blinked hard and forced my gaze to meet hers, raising my head. “Yes,” I said, reaching out and stroking her mane. “I’m alright, Apple Bloom. I just had a… dark moment.”
The CMC’s couldn’t see me like that. They couldn’t see me like the heap of despair I was and would be. But maybe that was good. The CMC’s helped me to control myself with their presence, to bury the negativity and store it away. Memories of the failed painting workshop came into view. I couldn’t become like that now, not with everypony looking at me; not with the little fillies, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, seeing me.
I swallowed, blinked, and rasped my throat. Slowly, I stepped closer to the end result of my calamity. It was vaguely round, but that was it. There was nothing else to see. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were still guessing.
“It’s a snowflake,” I said. At least my ‘creative mind’ could come up with that lousy excuse for what my statue represented.
“Eh… Of course,” Sweetie Belle said, looking up to me. “Of course it’s a snowflake. Each and every snowflake is unique, and… and so is this.”
“Nah, it doesn’t look like a snowflake,” Scootaloo said. “It isn’t even diamond-shaped.”
Sweetie Belle nudged her hard. “Not helping,” she hissed.
I wasn’t angry at Scootaloo’s remark; I was just disappointed in myself and my lack of creativity.
Apple Bloom could feel the awkwardness too, and jumped in on the conversation. “Let’s just try something else. Something far away from here.” She looked around; some ponies were still watching the crash site.
I couldn’t be more thankful for Apple Bloom’s words. As we passed the friendly stallion who had so generously offered his tools to me, I whispered a quick, “Sorry,” before we left the lake. I heard the laughter and fun continue behind me as I trotted over the hill.
All the way to our new destination, I tried my best to smother my negative thoughts. And at moments where I couldn’t, I made sure that the Crusaders walked ahead of me. Apple Bloom had said that she knew what to do next, and I trusted her completely. We walked in the direction of Ponyville, passing a few snow-covered fields. This was obviously a new part of town, as there was some construction going on. Despite the season, ponies were still busy building something in the distance. Ponyville citizens must be tough, I thought. As we neared the construction site, I could see that the ponies were building one of those cute little houses I had fallen in love with when we walked through main street.
Apparently, Apple Bloom was less adept at keeping secrets than Sweetie Belle. Suddenly she jumped around and called, “Masonry!”
I tilted my head. “Masonry?”
Her friends did the same.
“Yes! Masonry.” Apple Bloom looked at all of us in turn, until her gaze settled on my cutie mark. “That white square might also be a block of concrete or limestone. Maybe Sweet Tooth will be a big and strong construction workhorse.”
I never thought of myself as ‘big’ or ‘strong.’ My brother had called me ‘pipsqueak’ often enough to remember that. “I… I don’t know, Apple Bloom,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll be—“
“But you never know if you never try,” Scootaloo said. “As Rainbow Dash always says, ‘Don’t try before you die—try until you die.’”
Well, working on a construction site offers many opportunities to die, I thought. Where in Equestria did those creepy thoughts come from?
I didn’t have long to ponder over that strange question, as Apple Bloom trotted onto the building site.
“Hey! You’re not gonna come here without a helmet!” A burly pegasus stallion shouted. He was carrying a pile of wooden support beams on his back. Putting down his load, the stallion eyed Apple Bloom. “Now that I mention it, what the hay are you doing here. This is no playground, kid.”
Apple Bloom stopped. “We were just wondering if you need an extra pair of hooves to build… whatever you’re building there.”
“An internship, huh?” The stallion rubbed his stubble-covered chin. He shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Heavyweight is sick anyway, and I reckon having somepony is better than having nopony, even though that somepony is a rookie.” He looked me over and frowned. “Do you have experience in construction?”
I wanted to shake my head, but was stopped by Scootaloo. She fluttered her wings, jumped up, and held a hoof on my mouth. “Yes he has,” she said. “He is exceptionally good at masonry.”
The builder saw the strange display. “Can he talk?”
“Yes he can.”
“Alright, let’s see him in action, then.”
I glanced at Scootaloo with fearful eyes. But then again, she might just be right. Not about the fact that I had masonry experience, but that I might be a natural, if this interpretation of my cutie mark proved to be right.
As I followed the pegasus to the construction site, the Cutie Mark Crusaders left me to go sledding on a nearby hill. “Don’t worry, Sweet Tooth,” Apple Bloom said, “we’ll keep an eye out on you.”
“Thank you,” I said back. Those children were so sweet.
The stallion began briefing me on the task. “We gotta build a little tower over there.” He pointed with his wing to the left. “It’s kind of a lonely corner, so I won’t be able to supervise you, and I’m afraid none of the boys will. We’re on a tight schedule, and I need every pair of eyes and hooves and wings I can get to finish the main hall. Our client is some rich unicorn who apparently loves towers. Why do wizards always want to have a tower in their estate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm… maybe the high altitude is good for their magic or something. Beats me. Anyway, let’s get you up and running.”
We stopped before a heap of stones, a wheelbarrow, and some tools. “The blueprints are over there,” the stallion said. “Now get to work.”
And with that, he left me alone and walked to the other half-built building.
It seemed that I had to start from scratch. There were no markers on the ground; no drawn circle, no ropes strung between little poles—nothing. He really had thrown me in the deep end.
I tried to use my common sense. Everything starts with a plan, as did my crusade. Folding out the blueprints, I scanned it with my eyes before realizing that I had no idea how to read blueprints; this was the first time I had seen one, after all. With great effort I was able to decipher just how big the tower had to be, so I took up some poles and a piece of black string and marked off a neat circle.
I felt quite good at that. I had been thrown in the deep, but I would slowly build myself a way out of it. How hard could it be? Now it was just a matter of applying mortar, put the brick on the next one, scrape off the excess mortar and check if it was level. When I was just a little colt, I spent hours and hours watching ponies at work building apartments, flats, or other houses. I always gazed spellbound at the workers, secretly wishing that I could be as strong as them, or use telekinesis to lift loads into the air, or being a pegasus and working on the highest tips without having any fear of falling off and plummeting to my death. Surely that must have been a sign. Surely that had to be an indication that I would someday become a construction pony. It made sense; it seemed nothing more than logical.
The first bricks were in position. I made sure that every brick stood on level ground, so the tower would have a sturdy foundation. When I was done with that, I jumped out of my little stone circle to gather some new bricks in the wheelbarrow, rode the wheelbarrow over to my working spot, and emptied it, tossing the bricks onto the ground. I set to work on the second layer.
Mortar, brick, scrape, check. Mortar, brick, scrape, check. Mortar, brick, scrape, check. This was so easy. Before long, I had built myself a nice round wall, about as high as my own head.
But then I realized that I had a problem. How was I going to reach the next layer now? Even while I stood on my hind legs and on the tip of my hooves, I could barely reach it. And besides, I didn’t dare to lean too hard on my creation; not until the mortar would be dry and the wall would be sturdy.
I sat down, pondering over my problem for a second. If only I were a pegasus or a unicorn…
“A unicorn!”
I didn’t reckon Scootaloo the pegasus would be able to haul a brick all the way up, but Sweetie Belle the unicorn surely could. I knew how strong telekinesis was, and I reckoned that even a young unicorn should know how to lift at least one brick at a time high in the air.
I called out as loud as I could, my voice amplified by the round tower I was hidden in. Luckily, the hill on which they were playing wasn’t far, and a few minutes later I heard the sound of little hooves in the snow.
“Wow! Nice work, Sweet Tooth,” I heard Scootaloo say.
“Quite an interesting design you’ve chosen,” Sweetie Belle said.
I turned my head to where I reckoned they stood. “Thanks. It isn’t finished yet, but I need your help to do so. Sweetie Belle, can you use your magic to lift the bricks to the top? I think I can just throw the mortar with my trowel in the air. That way at least some of it will land on top of the wall.”
There was a silence on the other side. They were pondering over my plan.
“I think I can do that,” Sweetie Belle said.
I clopped my hooves together. “Wonderful. Just be sure to stand back as I throw the mortar, or else you’ll get snowed under by it.”
Sweetie Belle chuckled. “Let’s do this.”
And so I set to work once more, albeit in a different way. I had a good supply of mortar nearby, so we could start immediately. As I threw the first bit of mortar on top of the tower, I heard a soft tinkling sound. Seconds later, the first brick landed on top of the tower, enveloped in a green, magical haze. This was actually working! I felt my heart flutter, and maybe even a little bit of pride bubble up inside of me. Now this was an out-of-the-box solution.
Even my mortar-throws got progressively better as we worked. Throw, tinkle, throw, tinkle, throw, tinkle. After an hour, the tower was enormously high. High enough to clad me in shadows. The sky showed itself in a white circle far above.
I was so busy working that I didn’t hear the heavy hoofsteps of the construction pegasus. But when he stopped and looked at my building, I could clearly hear his shouts. “What… the hay… is THIS?!”
He didn’t sound happy.
“T-t-the tower,” I said, my voice stuttering in surprise.
“WHAT?!”
Then I started apologizing; I knew I had done something wrong. “I’m so sorry if I did something wrong, Mister.”
“Something?!” the stallion shouted. “You did everything wrong!”
I heard the flap of his wings. A second later, he landed with a heavy thud in the tower. His eyes flared up as he locked me in his gaze.
“First of all, the tower was supposed to be square, not round!”
He did a step forwards; I did one back.
“Second of all, there is no door!”
Whoops.
“And last of all, this tower looks as if it is glued together with maple syrup!” And as he said that, he punched his hoof into the wall right next to me. Both our faces were etched with surprise as his hoof went clean through the wall.
I didn’t let an opportunity like that slip by. I dared to glance at the stallion one more time, whimpered a, “Sorry,” and charged through the wall. Once outside, I didn’t stop galloping until I was well out of sight—and hopefully out of mind soon.
“Fail, fail, fail!” I yelled at myself as I charged on and on through the snow. Once again, I had blown it. Once again, I hadn’t discovered my special talent. And worse, I had made somepony angry because of that. I felt sorry for the poor stallion who had hired me, and I wasn’t at all sorry for myself. I felt a strange sense of anger flowing through me. Why couldn’t I do anything right? No, why couldn’t I do anything at all? I didn’t stop galloping, ventilating my anger and sadness working my legs, and using the cold airstream to calm myself down.
For a moment, I totally forgot why I was here and why I was doing things if I kept disappointing myself. I had hurt myself maybe even more during this crusade than during my fight with Mother and Father. They were right, and I was right too. Cutie marks are fake and only plunge you into misery and sorrow. My crusade was doomed to fail. I was doomed to fail.
As I galloped onwards, the snow grew thicker and thicker. Before long, it became harder to move forward, until I met a big, snowy hill, and was forced to stop. I buried my face in the snow. Like an ostrich, I wanted to hide from my sorrows with my head in the ground. That’s why I didn’t hear the Cutie Mark Crusaders until they stood right next to me.
“Hey Sweet Tooth, what are you doing?” Scootaloo said.
I wasn’t sure. I just wanted to be alone now. “I’m sorry Crusaders. I give up.”
They obviously heard the desperation in my voice, and it struck them silent for a few seconds. Suddenly, I felt some movement in the snow. They were digging my head out. After a minute or two, I was looking at the three little fillies.
“Hey, come on now, Sweet Tooth,” Apple Bloom said. “You can’t give up. You need to trust in yourself that you can do it.”
Scootaloo stepped up. “Yeah. You don’t wanna know how long it took for us to earn our cutie marks, how many times we tried and failed. Failure is part of the game.”
“Then I don’t want to play anymore,” I said. “I didn’t even like masonry.”
“Oh, but I’m sure you will like the next idea,” Scootaloo said.
I shook my head; my ears drooped down. “No more ideas, Crusaders. I really appreciate your help, but some ponies can’t be helped.”
Apple Bloom jumped up. “Of course they can be helped. We have to help you! We have to complete our mission! I know failing feels bad, but you just shouldn’t give up so easily. We are not going to give up on you, you know? You’ll still be stuck with us for a while.”
Apple Bloom had a very special voice. It was the voice of a leader; inspiring, determined, rough. Something stirred inside of me. I wanted to join her in battle wherever she went. But the battle was to help me. I suddenly realized that I had to try something else; if not for me, then for the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I couldn’t let them fail their mission, because then they would feel even worse than I did, knowing that they couldn’t help somepony find the meaning of his cutie mark. The Cutie Mark Crusaders had always been my best shot at finding my destiny, and I reckoned that my chances of finding it on my own would be very slim. The Crusaders had much more experience in the matter than I, and possessed a much stronger will and mind than I did.
I looked at each one of them in turn, and they looked at me, waiting for me to say ‘yes.’ I couldn’t let them down by letting myself down. They would be the fourth ponies I would have let down. First was my family, second Purple Palette, third was the poor construction worker. No, no more negative thoughts! I shook my head wildly.
The Crusader’s hopeful smiles grew gloomy as they saw my gesture. But I quickly clarified. Letting out a sigh, I said, “Alright. Let’s hear your idea, Scootaloo.”
Their smiles flashed back to their faces. Scootaloo jumped up and flapped her wings in delight. “Yes! I knew you weren’t a quitter, Sweet Tooth.”
I blushed. “Oh, please.”
“So what’s your idea, Scootaloo?” Sweetie Belle asked.
As an answer, Scootaloo rubbed her hooves together, as if she was plotting out something brilliant. “You’ll see…”
* *
“Bowling?”
We were standing in front of a large building, bearing an enormous sign with some bowling pins and a ball. The sign said: ‘The lucky shot, bowling and games.’ Some ponies were carrying large, ball-shaped bags and wore fancy polo shirts as they trotted towards the building together.
“Not just bowling,” Scootaloo said, “but also gambling.”
As we walked inside, my mind was still trying to make the connection between a sugar cube cutie mark and gambling. I felt something touching me, and I turned around.
“Tada!” Scootaloo said, holding a felt pen between her teeth. “How many dots would you like on the other side, Sweet Tooth?”
I threw a glance at my behind, seeing not a sugar cube on my flank, but a die bearing three dots.
“Stand still, will you?” Scootaloo said, as she dotted my other side so that it looked identical to the first. “There. Done.”
“I’m not sure that is how cutie marks work, Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle said, raising her eyebrows.
But Scootaloo shrugged. “Maybe they don’t, but I think we gotta help fate a hand. Let’s push Sweet Tooth in the right direction.”
I had my doubts as well, but I didn’t want to ruin the Crusaders’ enthusiasm with my pessimism. Now they all looked at me, wondering what I thought of it. I managed a smile. “Let’s go gambling!”
The three little fillies jumped up in joy and rushed on ahead, eager to give me another chance.
Scootaloo had been right. To the left there were many bowling lanes, most of them occupied, while to the right there were tables on which some ponies were playing. That area wasn’t very busy, as I could see that only one table was occupied with a couple of ponies playing some game.
I breathed in and out. There was a relaxed ambiance, and a smile curled on my lips as I looked at all the ponies, having fun trying to beat each other in the different games they played. It reminded me of the Buckingham Bar, which was always busy in the evening when ponies got back from work and played some games—sometimes gambling away the salary they had just earned. Of course, I liked to play as well from time to time, especially card games, and I fancied myself quite a good player. Of course, I wasn’t a pro, but I had won a game or two, oftentimes using the Bits I won to give everypony a round of drinks. Yes, I thought to myself. Gambling. Why not? Perhaps gambling would be my best shot at getting the meaning of my cutie mark, since I had some experience—even though my cutie mark was now literally fake. I was no novice, and I was going to show that to the ponies around the table.
I walked up to them, greeted them with a small nod of my head. “Can I join?”
“Sure,” one of the ponies, a grey stallion with a fedora, said. I could see that he flashed a funny smile as he said that. I know what he was doing; he was silently sizing me up, estimating my level of skill. His eyes lingered on my cutie mark, and his eyebrows went up, ever so slightly. By the way his smile stayed glued on his face, I reckoned he didn’t think me a dangerous opponent. Ha! I would show him how wrong he was.
“You can do this, Sweet Tooth,” Scootaloo said. The Cutie Mark Crusaders shoved my chair back and I sat down. The Crusaders had my back. At least I would have some mental support.
Fedora started dealing the cards. “Place your bets, everypony.”
With a shock, I realized I had forgotten about that part; they were playing for money. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure about this idea anymore. I still hadn’t found a job or some other way to earn a living, so my budget was limited, very limited. I reckoned Father and Mother had probably already plundered my bank account, so the only money I had was the contents of my slaughtered piggy bank.
“What’s the matter, big shot?” Fedora said to me. “You too poor?”
I had never been called poor—never ever. Yet I was now.
Scootaloo nudged me; everypony else was waiting with heaps of Bits on the table.
I realized I had no choice. Reaching down into my saddlebags, I brought out the towel with my remaining Bits in it. I did receive some strange looks as everypony saw the pieces of piggy bank still in it. I blushed as I quickly threw the contents on the table, accidentally shoving all of my Bits to the center.
Fedora handed me some cards as well. “It seems we have ourselves a sixth player after all.”
Sixth player? I glanced around, counting heads. Indeed, we were altogether six players. But wasn’t prancing poker played with four ponies?
“It seems our newbie here is going all-in,” Fedora said after a quick glance at my Bits. “Now that’s one way to introduce yourself.” He let out a chuckle. Before I could say anything more, or realize what had happened, the game was on.
I felt a surge of panic as I realized there was no backing out now. The bets were placed, and any interruption to the game would count as a forfeit, and I would lose all my money. Right now, I had to win, there was no other option. The stakes had never been so high for me.
Everypony was looking at their cards. There were poker faces everywhere. Mine failed miserably. I could tell by their stark expressions that they were professionals. While Fedora had taken the time to look at his opponents, I had totally forgotten about that. I took my cards in my hooves, but didn’t yet look at them. First I wanted to know what I was dealing with—literally. I looked at everypony, one by one, paying extra attention to their cutie marks, and what I saw didn’t comfort me. They all had cutie marks which had something to do with games. One mare had a deck of cards, the stallion next to her a pair of dice—real dice—and the two ponies sitting left from me both had a roulette wheel. I hoped that they would be bad at this card game, as their true talent lay with playing roulette. I couldn’t see the cutie mark of Fedora, as he sat opposite of me, but I reckoned it had to be either a fedora, or something to do with card games. I hoped it was a fedora.
Nopony made a move yet, which left me some time to glance at my cards. Did I want to see them? I squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to look. But in order to play—let alone win—I had to see what I was playing with. Slowly, I opened my eyes, looking at my six cards. Six? There should be four.
But my worries were quickly whisked away, as I saw my winning hand. Yes! I couldn’t suppress a little smile; victory was mine. The only thing I had to do now was await my turn, and then I could play out my hand. Somehow, I had always known that prancing poker would be my special talent—even though it required a felt pen to work.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders saw my smile. They scooted closer to take a look at my hand. They would probably not know what hand was the one of a winner, for prancing poker was a pretty adult game. They were probably more used to playing canter quartets or something.
The mare next to me got her turn. To my astonishment, she drew a card. Drew a card? You’re supposed to play out your hand! What she said next made my blood freeze cold.
“Can I have a three from you?” she asked Fedora. With a grumble, he handed her two of his cards.
These ponies weren’t playing prancing poker; they were playing canter quartets! And that meant that my hand was absolutely useless.
My eyes twitched from side to side, and I shuffled on my chair as if I needed to go to the bathroom. Panic ruled my body; there was nothing left of my victorious smile. I had to get out of there. I had to withdraw. I had to find a way to get my money back—all of my money. I had to—“
“Quartet, you little fillies!” the old mare shouted as she threw her cards on the table. To my horror, I saw that she had indeed four threes. She had won.
With a triumphant smile, the old mare scooped up all of the money, shoving it into a big saddlebag she held between her teeth. Clearly, she had expected to win a big prize.
My money was gone. All of it. Once again, I had failed to reach my destiny, and this time it didn’t hurt another pony—it hurt my wallet. I had no idea what to do now.
“Hey,” the rough voice of Fedora resounded, “are you gonna play another round or what?”
My mouth felt dry; too dry to speak. I believe I said something like, “No thank you,” before getting up from my chair with wobbling knees. Behind me, I could hear the old mare whisper, “Probably broke.” Of course, she was right.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders moved. They knew what had happened. Slowly, I walked towards them. Without a single word, they accompanied me to the exit. Scootaloo walked in front of me, casting an occasional glance over her shoulder while Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom flanked me on either side. They were probably expecting me to faint, as my legs felt like they were made out of rubber. I did almost fall over a couple of times, but I made it to the exit at last.
I walked on, unsure where to go. The vault, behind which my darkest thoughts and feelings were hidden, burst open, and an inky black wave swallowed me whole. I couldn’t feel my legs; I couldn’t feel anything. I just walked on and on, out of town, taking the back roads and avoiding as many ponies as I could. I just wanted to be alone with my sorrows. Now, I really was in a crisis, and not just a cutie mark crisis.
“That was all your money, wasn’t it?” Scootaloo asked.
Sweetie Belle poked her friend. “Scootaloo!”
“No, she’s right,” I said after a heavy sigh. “That was all of my money.” I couldn’t believe what an idiot I had been. I was so convinced, so worked up in the ecstasy of finally finding my true talent, that I had totally forgot to ask the ponies around the table what game they were playing. And besides that, I should have picked easier opponents. How in Equestria did the idea of going all-in come up in my head? No, it wasn’t an idea; it just happened. Everything happened so fast…
“I’m sorry,” Scootaloo said. Those words were like the stab of a knife. I stopped and looked at the little pegasus filly.
“Don’t be, Scootaloo,” I said. “This was all my fault. I shouldn’t have bet all of my money. You are not to blame.”
“So… what are we going to try now?” Apple Bloom said, carefully, as if I would be angry at her for trying again; for giving me another chance. How could I possibly get angry at her for that? They were trying to help me, but I failed every time.
I avoided their gazes. “Nothing,” I said.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders were once again silent. They were probably careful with their words, hearing how fragile my voice was. It broke my heart as I realized that they still wanted to help me.
“You know, you can also take a job on the apple farm,” Apple Bloom said. “I’m sure my sister will hire you if I tell her that—“
“That I’m a failure,” I suddenly burst out. “You saw what happened with the construction pony. It was such a simple task, and yet I failed him. The same thing would happen once Applejack gave me my first assignment. I’m not here to create, or build, or win; I’m here to destroy, to ruin, and to fail.” I felt the tears burning in my eyes and averted my gaze, trying my best to calm down. I managed to do so after a heavy sigh. “I appreciate all your help, Crusaders, but I think we should part ways for now. I know I shouldn’t give up, but I just have to be alone, recharge myself. Do you understand?”
They nodded. But Apple Bloom looked me in the eyes so deeply, that I was afraid I might get lost in hers. “Are you gonna be alright?” she asked.
“I… I think I will.” It was the most honest answer I could give her and the best I could do. I didn’t want to lie to her, as I saw how she read me. No, I didn’t lie, but I did cover my answer in as much vagueness as I could. To be honest, I myself didn’t even know if I was speaking the truth.
We reached a crossroads. Wherever the Cutie Mark Crusaders went, I wouldn’t follow. They stopped.
“I guess that means… goodbye?” Apple Bloom said, her voice hesitant.
“It does.” I reached out a hoof and patted each of them on the head. “Thank you all again for the amazing opportunities you have given me. I’m sorry that I let you down, but remember, you didn’t let me down, or yourselves. You tried your very best with me. Maybe we’ll meet again soon.”
They probably wanted to say a few more positive things to me as parting words, but I couldn’t let them. Instead, I turned around and galloped the opposite way, a road leading away from town and towards the hills. I had no idea where I was going. I did hear the Crusaders yell something after me, but I was already too far away to hear it. I doubted it would have helped me, considering what I was about to do next.