A bit lay in the middle of the homeschool table, a notch on the side of the coin facing up. A golden gray Unicorn stallion paces along one side of the table, the many stars decorating his blue robe occasionally catching rays from the setting sun peeking in through the basement window. Textbooks line a number of shelves, their pages filled with enough knowledge to provide half an education. “Reach out... feel the coin... lift,” Shimmering Dust instructs his son.
For the first time ever, a reddish orange spark, then a haze coalesces around the colt’s horn and the coin and levitates. The yellow and orange coated colt beams with delight as he sees the bit dancing to his will.
“Smile!”
Applesauce flicks his head around to see his father snapping a picture. The flash disorients him; his oversized horn drops the coin.
‘Magic!’ Applesauce thinks to himself as he rubs his eyes. “By Celestia, I reckon I did it,” he giggles at himself and starts bouncing around the room like the local Party Pony. “I did it, I did it, Ah did it!” He bounces upstairs, dances into the kitchen, and proclaims his success, “Hey, Mom... I did it! I made a bit jump like a kitten in a fox hole!” He demonstrates his newfound powers by shifting a plate on the counter a couple inches.
Shimmering Dust climbs the last of the stairs. He smiles at his wife, an Earth Pony by the name of Apple Turnover, enduring the barrage of excitement their son is dishing out. He discreetly sheds a few tears while pulling out a present. “Hey, Applesauce,” he calls over the bouncing colt, “I have something for you.”
Applesauce plants himself in front of his father, and receives the gift. He plops it on the ground, secures it with the tip of his horn and uses a hoof to remove the paper. He flips open the box lid. “A pair a books?” He turns the fancier book over and uses the tip of his horn to open the front cover. A huge grin breaks out across his face. “My very own spell book? Thank ya, Dad!” He glances up at his father and continues browsing.
“This is a special spellbook I wrote just for you, and this...,” Shimmering Dust levitates the other book in front of Applesauce, “...is a real journal we got you to record your life’s adventure.”
Applesauce takes the journal in his hooves, sets it aside, and pulls his parents in for a group hug. “I love y'all so much.” He jumps when something tickles the fur on his back. His big, green eyes bug out. “Wait, Wha’?” he cranes his neck around to see the foreign object now draped across his body. “Dad? Ya givin’ me yer robe?”
Apple Turnover pulls out from the hug. “Shimmerin’, Darlin’, are ya sure our little sugarcube is ready for such a mighty big mantle?”
Shimmering Dust casts a spell over the cloth. “Applesauce, why don’t you go upstairs and start writing in your new journal? Your mother and I have a few important things to discuss. The family robe will adjust to fit its new bearer. It should take an hour or so.”
Applesauce grabs his gifts with his mouth and scuttles upstairs to his room in the attic, somehow managing to avoid tripping over his Dad-sized robe. He pulls back his curtains, letting in the early-evening moonlight. Outside, the occasional pony can be seen departing Twilight’s crystal castle. A certain spirit of chaos is moonwalking down the street toward the Everfree Forest, showing off something around his neck to everyone in sight. The other three Crusaders are bidding their goodbyes as they go their separate ways. One of them scooters past.
“Heya, Scootaloo,” Applesauce calls out to his friend. She kicks her scooter sideways and slides to a stop. She looks up and parks her scooter in front of the nondescript Ponyville townhouse. “Y’all are never gonna guess the surprise I got for our meetin’ tomorrow!”
The flightless Pegasus flaps her orange wings for a moment of air. “Is your Dad letting you have the day off? That’s so cool!, Cool as a cherry with.. an ice cream on top!” The foals crack up at the lame attempt at a new countryism.
“How about, ‘Cooler ‘an an apple in a freezer in the snow?’”
“I guess that works. Hey, what’s the surprise? Did you finally get your Cutie Mark?”
Applesauce frowns and shakes his head. “Still workin’ on that one.”
“Anyway, I gotta bail. See ya tomorrow at the meeting. Remember: full dress!” Scootaloo remounts her scooter and waves goodbye before racing off.
Applesauce waves back, but it’s too late. He leaves the window open and sets his brand new journal on his desk. ‘I gotta practice if I so much as hope ta lift anythin’ tomorrow.’ After closing his eyes and focusing really hard, he lights up his oversized horn and tips the inkwell toward his bed. A right hoof shoots up to the unstable container to steady his scribing tools, sending the inkwell tilting the other direction. It rolls around precariously before settling on not spilling. Applesauce wipes the pretend sweat from his forehead, imitating Auntie Applejack after a hard day’s work, “Phew, that was a close one! I reckon it'll be a season before I can do my writin’ from my horn and have it look right.” ‘Maybe Sweetie Belle can give me a few pointers. I can’t wait for the look on her face when I show up at the clubhouse tomorrow mornin’ waving stuff in the air.’
Settling into his desk, Applesauce grabs the quill in his mouth and introduces himself to the journal, detailing his family and personal history leading up to the present. By the time he finishes, Dad’s robe has shrunken to a more comfortable size.
Knock knock Shimmering dust peeks Applesauce’s door open and comes in. “Lights out, Kiddo. You got a big day tomorrow, my little magician.”
Applesauce takes off his robe and packs it in a saddlebag while getting ready for bed. His parents tuck him in and turn out the light. “I love ya, Mom and Dad.”
***
It’s a shining new day. Applesauce wakes up and finishes packing a number of objects into his saddlebags before his mother’s voice calls, "Applesauce, C'mon down for breakfast or ya gonna miss it!"
Applesauce throws on his CMC cape over top his bags and focuses at the door. ‘Door… Knob… TURN!’ He embraces the door knob in his magic. ‘Oh, no no no nonoNO!’ He winces as the knob slips through his magic field like a bottle from a baby's hooves. "Seriously?" he mumbles to the door. A second attempt grants a little more success, but that success is nullified when he releases it while forgetting to pull. He stomps a hoof down, "Aw, C'mon!"
The horn atop young Applesauce's head finds itself in the door knob, and cracking open the door the old fashion way. He tries one more time out of spite, ‘Door…MOVE’ The door flies open, smashing the knob into the wall and leaving a dent.
An irritated voice perculates up from downstairs. "Applesauce, what in Tarnation just went down up there?"
Applesauce bumbles his way downstairs. He straightens his tacky cape over his bag with magic and flashes his mother a cheesy grin. "Magic!"
Apple Turnover bites a chair at the dining table and pulls it out for her son. She ruffles his mane up as he sits. Shimmering Dust simultaneously flies three place settings to the table “Let’s see it.”
Applesauce lifts the end of a fork and dangles it over to his place setting and finishes sliding it into place with a hoof.
***
As soon as Applesauce and Apple Turnover set hoof out their front door, they immediately get swept into the final chorus of a morning song. Once the excitement dies down, the two continue on their way to the farm.
Pinkie Pie skydives in and lands in front of the Town Apples. “You!” She stretches out a hoof to block Applesauce at his chest. “My Pinkie Sense was going all over the place last night at Starlight’s Graduation, and I know exactly what you were doing... I’m going to borrow your mother for a bit.” She takes Apple Turnover by the ear and starts whispering stuff about “party plans” and “first magic use.”
Apple Turnover unglues herself from Pinkie long enough to blurt, “Applesauce, go; I'll catch up with you later. Be safe! And I love you!” before succumbing once again to Pinkie’s mercy.
***
The road to the farm takes the rhythmic abuse of an eight year old colt with a song stuck in his head. Applesauce hums the chorus a few times over as he greets a group of stranger ponies with a “Howdy.” A few unfinished sculpted clouds drift past. He bellows a greeting upward where he suspects Windy Light is working on them from the privacy of another cloud.
Arriving at the clubhouse, Applesauce climbs the ramp and starts setting up for the meeting. He uses his mouth, saving his magic trick as a bombshell for later. Pulling out an ink well and the club scrapbook, he writes up the attendance sheet.
Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle clamber up the ramp and freeze in their hoofsteps. Applesauce marks them as present. “Hey ya girls, where’re ya capes?”
Scootaloo marches up to Applesauce. She narrows her eyes and flares her wings. “And just who do you think you're supposed to be?” She jabs a hoof in his direction.
Applesauce doesn’t pick up on her annoyance. He drops the pen and puffs out his chest and holds his horn high, “I think I am the newest member of the magic club!”
Sweetie Belle steps around to Applesauce’s side. A look of confusion overcomes her as she grabs his cape, “This is CMC property. Where’d you get it?”
Applesauce looks over his shoulder to address her. “Ya made it for me, remember?”
Scootaloo bats her hoof against Applesauce’s horn, forcing his face forward again. “I don’t know about Sweetie Bell here, but I think a horn this big must be fake.”
Sweetie Belle backs her up, “It’s almost as big as Rarity’s!”
Applesauce snaps back, his pride a little wounded from his friends’ words, “It sure as apples ain’t fake!”
An evil little smile passes across Scootaloo’s face. “Prove it.”
The large, elongated horn sparks with activity. Applesauce levitates the pen back to his mouth. With as smug of an expression as a pony can manage with a quill in his mouth, he finishes the attendance sheet: Apple Bloom, Applesauce, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle. He marks off every name but Apple Bloom’s.
Sweetie Belle uses the time to sneak behind Applesauce and remove his cape for inspection. “Gold silk?”
Applesauce drops the pen and whips his attention back to Sweetie Bell, “Hey! Give that back!”
Another set of hoofsteps gallops up the ramp and into the treehouse. “Sorry I’m late, girls!” Apple Bloom huffs and puffs before lifting her eyes to the scene playing out in front of her.
Sweetie Belle has a first edition CMC cape floating high above the podium, one corner flickering between her mint green magic and an unfamiliar red-orange magic color. Scootaloo is staring at a large book with her wings back and mouth agape in confusion as she flips through it. The podium falls over, and a strange, Unicorn colt about their age struggles to reacquire the outfit.
Applebloom draws in a deep breath and shouts over the ruckus, “Would somepony like ta explain what in the barnyard is going on in here?!” Silence drops in the treehouse. She slowly approaches the open book on the floor. She flips to the latest entry, today’s smudged roll call sheet, and reads each member’s name but wrinkles her nose at the second signature, “Applesauce?”
The colt’s ears droop, “N-not you too!” The colt’s whole face sags. “Ya-ya can cut the prank now, it ain’t funny.”
Sweetie Belle indifferently wipes up the spilled ink. She cleans and caps the inkwell while sliding the pen back in its case. Then she shoves all Applesauce’s belongings back into his bags. “Don’t worry, Applebloom, he was just leaving.” Applesauce whimpers as his bags land firmly on his back. He slinks out of the clubhouse in shame. “And take this book with you!” Sweetie Bell jams the final item into his bags. As it slips in, the trio of girls catch the title, The Cutiemark Crusaders’ Chronicles. Each of their own signatures occupies its own spot on the front cover. The colt sulks his way down the ramp and away from the clubhouse without his CMC cape.
***
Applesauce kicks a pebble down the road for a while. BOOM! The clear sky produces a giant thunderbolt behind him. Applesauce panics and breaks into a dead gallop fueled by pure adrenaline. He sprints into the barnyard. “Auntie Applejaaaaahahaaaack!”
The panicked foal zips into the barn, bowling over Applejack. A bushel of apples and Applesauce’s saddlebags go flying. The basket flips through the air and lands on the small form. “Big Macintosh! What in the hay have you gotten yourself into?” Applejack mutters at her absent brother as she picks herself up and removes the basket from the stunned foal, “Startling little Apple... not Bloom?” The colt shakes his head to clear the stars. “I don’t reckon you’d like ta explain why them there apples are a rollin’ all over the floor.” Applejack points a hoof his mess.
The youngin’ tears up a bit as he explains, “Sorry, it’s just somethin’ terrible’s happened ta the other Crusaders! It’s like they’s cursed an’ all forgot who I is an’ all.” His eyes grow big as he makes his case. “Ya gotta help ‘em Auntie Applejack!”
Applejack finds the stranger a little off putting, but she tries to make the best of it. “Auntie?” she chuckles a moment, “Now there’s a first!” She recollects her hat. “Sorry, but I ain’t nopony’s auntie. Besides, last time I checked, there weren’t no unicorns in the Apple family. Now, unless you got some sort a proof otherwise, I’d be inclined to take your stories with a teaspoon or two a salt.” She starts picking up the apples, “Is there some other way I can help you, Sugarcube?”
A large scrapbook hits a pile of hay. The kid opens it straight to a page with three photos, each showing a CMC member with their respective family. Applejack reviews the photos. “What in the...” she pauses at the picture with her granny and siblings. An extra trio of faces stand ahead of the other Apple Siblings and Granny Smith. She plants a hoof firmly on the offending picture, “Would ya mind tellin’ me how ya got these?”
The colt rummages through his bag and pulls out a tripod. He places it on the ground and gives a hopeful smile.
Applejack yanks her head back in surprise. Her hat jumps. “Now wait a second… Are you sayin’ these here are your pictures?”
The tripod now has a Polaroid camera mounted atop it. “Ah sure did. Why, it was just last week I snapped these here photos.”
Applejack returns her focus to the pictures. “Well… I ain’t sure how you were able to take these.” She points her hoof to the Apple family portrait. “I don’t even remember doin’ one like that.”
“Well, that trick is easy.” The foal picks up the tripod in his hooves, camera and all, and points to one of the gauges on the side. “My’ camera has a delay timer right here.” He fetches his bag and starts repacking his stuff. “Ya don’t recon their forgettin’ me is ‘cause nothin’s wrong with my worn horn anymore?” He spits on the ground. “Could it be a side effect, Auntie?”
Applejack continues picking up her spilled apples, “Look… I don’t know who ya are, how or even if ya ever became a part of Apple Bloom’s club, or even why you insist on callin’ me, ‘Auntie.’ Now, why don’t you run along and skedaddle now.” She shakes a hoof at the barn door. “I got a brother ta find,” she almost growls as she places the last apple.
The foal perks up again, “I can help ya find Uncle Big Mac! Maybe he’ll remember me and straighten things out!”
Applejack loses patience with the persistent kid. “Would ya cut it with callin’ me an’ my brother, ‘Auntie’ and ‘Uncle!’ The only sibling we got is little Apple Bloom an’ she ain’t old enough ta be ya mama.”
“But,... my Mama’s your big sis, Apple Turnover.” He reopens his bags and pulls out a signed picture of her.
“Nope, never seen her ‘round these parts.” Applejack returns the photo and opens the barn door to leave. “Now shoo.”
***
Applesauce wanders off the farm. “But, she’s your sis!” he mumbles as he passes the gate out front, “I guess I’m just gonna head back home. Dad’ll cast a spell... an’ ‘ell make it all better.”
A Pegasus with enormous wings sets down in front of Applesauce. She shakes out her wings and folds them, then cocks her head at Applesauce. “What’s my name?”
“Windy Light,” Applesauce unenthusiastically half mutters. “I don’t suppose you remember me either.”
Windy smiles and shakes her head gently. “But that happens a lot. How well do you know me?”
The mess of a kid drones, “You an’ your lil’ bro with a lame wing, Dasher Swift, sometimes babysit me when Dad’s busy with his secret project an’ Mom’s helpin’ Granny.”
“Interesting...” Windy walks around him slowly, studying him. “Come with me.”
“Where we goin’?”
“We are going to see Princess Twilight. If anypony will know why no one knows you, or else can figure it out, I’m sure she can.”
Even though Windy doesn’t remember him, the boy cheers up at her kindness and willingness to help. "I like Twilight. She's always tellin' me how my magic is gonna come in someday. I sure hope she don’t not know me like my family. 'Cause if that's so, she won't be impressed ta know that someday was yesterday, last night in fact!. …" He babbles on and on to Windy about himself the rest of the way into town.