Year One: The Fourth Crusader
Scootaloo sighed and arched her back into the floorboards of the clubhouse, relaxing her developing muscles. She had been interrupted from her weekly flying lessons with the one, the only Rainbow Dash by an overzealous Sweetie Belle.
Normally, Scootaloo would’ve welcomed Sweetie's presence—she was one of her best friends, after all—her idol possessed little free time. After Dash finished her weather duties each Monday, it was their special flying time. Seven days never dragged so achingly slow between sessions. To cease such a joyous occasion, Scootaloo reasoned, better have been as important as promised…
~
It was Monday afternoon. It was always Monday afternoon within the confines of Scootaloo’s mind. These blessed, sacred days, Ponyville’s main weather-pony would complete her job duties early, making special time for the foal who adored her so much. Keeping her solemn vows, Rainbow Dash met with Scootaloo the beginning of each work-week to instruct her in the ways of the thermals.
Scootaloo learned the simple flying exercises quickly. Delighted at her mastery of the fundamentals, Rainbow Dash held nothing back, increasing the intensity of their lessons as the weeks passed. On this very momentous Monday afternoon, Celestia’s sun beginning to set the sky afire with yellow, orange, and red, the two of them sped through a series of warm-up drills with ease.
Praising Scootaloo for a new hovering record, elder and younger pegasus fillies took a rejuvenating break on the grass. Dash droned about some of the more interesting pegasi she worked with—a certain cross-eyed mare was discussed—but Scootaloo didn't mind. Her hero always had a great story to tell.
From one of the hills below galloped a white unicorn filly with a curly pink-and-purple mane. She charged towards them, hooves streaking through the grass in her haste, eyes wide and wild.
Dash pointed a forehoof in the direction of the charging foal and observed, “Hey, isn’t that—“
“SCOOTALOO!” bellowed their visitor, thundering her hooves up to the steep hill to meet the two fliers.
Concern shone brightly in Scootaloo’s violet irises. “What is it, Sweetie Belle?” she asked. Rainbow Dash shared her ward’s quizzical look, both pegasi stretching their wings in preparation for another round of gliding exercises as they waited for an answer.
Sweetie took deep, gasping breaths, catching her words somewhere in the stirring of the wind. “It’s Apple Bloom! She says to come and meet us at the clubhouse right away!” She practically tripped over her own hooves as she hopped in place. “She says it’s important!”
Sighing, Scootaloo turned to her hero and muttered uneasily, “Uh… well… if it’s important…I guess—“
“Don’t worry, squirt,” Dash assured, ruffling Scootaloo's mane. Eliciting a giggle from her student, Dash added with a grin, “I’ll make some time tomorrow so we can catch up. Just make sure you stretch before you come next time, okay?”
“Heh, heh, yeah, right, stretch.” Scootaloo didn’t have much time to hide her embarrassment, tearing away from Dash's gaze as Sweetie Belle roughly grasped her forehoof and pulled both of them towards Sweet Apple Acres. “Okay! Okay! I’m going! I’m going! Sheesh, Sweetie!”
“She said to hurry!”
“I heard you the first time!”
Rainbow Dash chuckled to her impish self as the two fillies broke into a gallop, unicorn racing pegasus towards farmland and heartland, soon becoming shadows against the horizon. With a quick flap of her wings, Rainbow Dash became one with the sky, and rocketed towards demands of her own—the call of the thermals, the wind in her feathers.
~
“Arrrgh! You pulled me away from Rainbow Dash’s awesome flying lesson, and Apple Bloom hasn’t even shown up yet!” Stomping her hindhooves into the foundations in frustration, Scootaloo groaned and said, “I was almost starting to get the real hang of long-distance gliding, too!”
Sitting at the Cutie Mark Crusaders' desk (which doubled as a lunch table), Sweetie Belle said with a tilt of her head, “Aw, you heard Rainbow Dash. You’ll make up for it later. I’m sure Apple Bloom is on her way.”
Rolling her eyes, Scootaloo didn’t budge from her skepticism. “Are you sure she said right now? Not like, tomorrow or something?”
“Since when have I lied to you?” Sweetie challenged.
“No! I didn’t say you lied!” Scootaloo looked up from the floorboards with a confused muzzle. “You just… hear things selectively sometimes."
Sweetie gasped and accused, “Have you been hanging out with Rarity lately?! She says that all the time! ‘Selective hearing.’ One time, I thought she said ‘pot roast,’ not ‘hot toast.’ No wonder she was confused when I asked Applejack if we could borrow a pig…”
Before Scootaloo could raise an eyebrow and make a case for animal welfare, the trotting of small hooves on the clubhouse drawbridge silenced her objection. Sitting bolt upright, she turned to Sweetie and exclaimed, “I think that’s her! Come on, capes on!”
In a flash, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo retrieved their crimson Cutie Mark Crusader capes from the floorboards—both of their prized possessions left behind mistakenly after Thursday’s round of crusading—and secured them around their necks. “I wonder what we’ll be doing today!” Sweetie Belle whispered, mind running amok with ideas.
Winter was slowly beginning its descent upon Ponyville. It was a little too early to be “Cutie Mark Crusader Snow Shovelers,” or “Cutie Mark Crusader Sledders,” but maybe there was still enough time to be “Cutie Mark Crusader Leaf-Jumpers”? Sweetie wasn’t sure, but knew that there would plenty of time for debate, once two became three.
Door to the clubhouse creaking open, their summoner arrived at last… with another foal trotting behind her. Surprisingly, both visitors lacked their counterpart's capes. Apple Bloom strode in first, a familiar face following her inside.
Bobtail filly with a colt’s manecut, orange in coat, red-and-pink in mane, tall and strong. Babs Seed. Their bad seed. Except, there was something… different about her. Quite different.
“Hey Babs!” Scootaloo greeted, two becoming four. “Hey… what’s wrong with your ear?” She gestured to the thick rolls of white bandages wrapped around the middle of Babs's left ear. There were no blood-stains to contrast against the blinding white of the dressings. Still, it surprised both waiting Cutie Mark Crusaders, eying their newest member with concern.
Muttering barely above an inaudible volume, Babs replied, “Oh, um, well, dat’s—“
Apple Bloom, though she was shorter and lighter than her cousin, had entered the clubhouse at an angle, blocking Sweetie and Scoots' view of Bab Seed’s flanks. There, on that orange fur, lay an incredible blessing, one which warranted an entire celebration at the Sweet Apple farmhouse. However, that blessing threatened to potentially curse its bearer as well, bringing with it all sorts of unspoken questions.
Apple Bloom wasn’t sure how Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo would react to the fourth Crusader receiving her cutiemark before everypony else, and in the midst of her worries about that, neglected to think of a hasty explanation for her cousin’s injury.
Now, she took a bold step forward, shielding Babs further. Reluctant to recall the most horrific experience of her young life so soon—even to her best friends—Apple Bloom interjected, “Uh, gals, that’s a long story. Real long story. Heh, heh. But… that’s not why Ah called y’all here. There’s somethin’ else.”
“What is it, Apple Bloom? Is something wrong?” Sweetie Belle asked, her eyes widening.
“Yeah! Do we need to go kick some flank?” Scootaloo asked, her pupils blazing, mental images of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon tumbling to their doom (and into a puddle of mud) preceding a wicked sort of smile.
Apple Bloom sighed. “No. Nopony needs their flank kicked. It’s jus’…. well… Babs… are ya ready?”
As ready as I’ll eva be, Babs Seed thought. With an awkward, reluctant grin, she answered, “Yea, I’m ready.”
Suspicion replacing her thirst for vengeance, Scootaloo narrowed her eyes and repeated, “Ready? Ready?? Ready for what?”
Emerald irises turned to fiery-rubies, seeking affirmation in their depths. Cousin nodding and nudging her gently with a forehoof, Babs Seed gulped and trotted fully into the clubhouse, Celestia’s fading sun illuminating the source of two gasps as it glowed in the sunlight.
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo nearly dislocated their jaws at the sight.
There it was—or, rather, there they were—the cutiemark, the fourth Crusader a blankflank no more, a little purple shield with a red apple slice in its center bearing triumph against orange fur on each haunch. The four of them stood in silence, two fixated on the fourth's flank with unrefined wonder. Babs Seed began to sweat, seconds stretched beyond measure. C’mon, say summat, any o’ youze!
“So, uh, girls, what do youze, uh… think?” Babs mumbled. Her words shattered their stagnation, unable to bear the weight of her anticipation any longer. Is ma first rule true fo’ dem as well as me? “Once a Crusada, always a Crusada”?
“It’s. Beautiful!” Sweetie exclaimed happily. Bounding over to Babs Seed and enveloping the shocked foal in a crushing hug, she praised, “Oh, Babs, good for you! I’m so happy for you! First of us to get your cutiemark! Wow!”
Apple Bloom turned to Scootaloo. “Well…. what do ya think, Scootaloo? Pretty cool, huh?”
“More than just cool.” Scoots grinned. “This is just... totally awesome!” Wings fluttering with excitement, she joined the unicorn in nearly crushing her. Apple Bloom trotted over and completed their group hug, Babs Seed giggling in the center.
“Phew!” Babs sighed with relief as she was released from their embrace. “I thought youze two would be mad.”
Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow, more confused than usual. “Mad? Why would we be mad?”
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo shared Sweetie's befuddlement. Scootaloo gestured with a wild forehoof and said, “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders! That’s what we do, find our cutiemarks! And you did it first! If that's not a reason to be happy, nothing is!”
“Besides, Babs... once a Crusader, always a Crusader. Ain’t that what ya said ta the Manehatten CMC?” added Apple Bloom.
Smiling, Babs remarked, “Heh, dat's true. I guess youze is right.”
“Wait!” Scootaloo focused her full attention on Babs Seed, raising a forehoof in realization. “Babs, how long are you going to be visiting?”
Uh-oh. Turning to her cousin, Babs swept her gaze from the two expectant Crusaders, then to Apple Bloom, and back again. Urging for the silent boon of telepathy to befall Apple Bloom, Babs rambled within the confines of her mind, Didn’t youze tell them 'bout...? Wait! No! Dat’s not what I want! Don't tell 'em! O’... maybe youze can tell ‘em... down the line...
“Yeah, Babs! How much longer until you have to go back to Manehatten?” Sweetie Belle asked, throwing in a loaded question of her own. “Just so, you know, we can try and learn how to get our cutiemarks from the master while she's still here, of course,” she chuckled, nudging her in the ribs.
Across the clubhouse, Babs Seed looked again to Apple Bloom in a silent plea for assistance. Apple Bloom turned to her two best friends and dismissed, “Uh, gals, let’s not worry ‘bout that right now. Let’s jus’ go have some fun! Oh, Ah know! How ‘bout we go try ta be ‘Cutie Mark Crusader Apple Farmers’ again?”
Sweetie countered, “But we tried that already, and—”
“Wait a minute!” Scootaloo trotted over beside their newest member, gazing intensely at Babs's flank.
The hay?! "Uh... Scootaloo... what are youze doin’?”
“It’s an apple slice,” Scootaloo observed flatly.
“Well, duh,” Sweetie said with a roll of her eyes. “Of course it is! Babs is an Apple! Just like Apple Bloom, right?”
Scootaloo tilted her head in confusion. “But... I thought you were an Orange. From Manehatten. And hey, wait! You still didn’t answer my question!”
A single bead of sweat trickled down Babs Seed's nape. It had barely been a full passage of the sun and moon since her arrival, since her enemy—Powerlessness—lay fallen on the ground at her forehooves. Taking control of her destiny and fate, Babs Seed felt strong, powerful, and somehow in the midst of the madness, acquired her cutiemark as well.
Mark of destiny it was, revealing her true self. There was nothing to be ashamed or afraid of, was there? An’ yet, I don’t know iffa I’m ready ta tell ‘em everythin’...
“Scootaloo, drop it,” Apple Bloom ordered, deadpan, her voice only a few octaves above a growl. She repeated, “C’mon, the sun’s still out. Let’s all go crusadin’!”
Sweetie Belle tapped Scootaloo with a forehoof. “She’s right, you know, it’s getting late...” Scootaloo scowled, planting her haunches on the oak. “Scootaloo?”
With a scoff, the pegasus jabbed, “I don’t see why it’s such a difficult question to answer. What? Did you run away or something?”
In an instant, Babs's internal homeostasis shifted, sensing conflict, detecting danger. Neurons fired, adrenaline was released, and an orange forehoof stepped angrily towards its matching counterpart. “Dat’s none o’ youze business.” She sneered.
This time, Apple Bloom was the one to play mediator. Rushing to her cousin’s side, she tugged on her forehoof and muttered, “Uh, Babs, maybe we should jus’ go... Applejack’s gonna have dinner ready soon, an’—”
“Keeping secrets, huh? That’s no way to treat a friend!” Scootaloo met her match, gritting her teeth. “You are our friend, aren’t you, Babs Seed?”
“O’ course I am!” What’s her problem?!
Taking a deep breath, Scootaloo suddenly blurted, “Then, tell us what’s going on! Why are you hurt? How did you get your cutiemark? Why aren’t you in Manehatten?”
Silence rushed in through the ajar door of the clubhouse.
Inside hopped the Truth, as summoned, and that trickster demon took a seat in the corner, munching happily on a bag of freshly popped popcorn with a gleeful grin.
The four foals froze in the aftermath of the pointed questions. Geography failed none of them; it wasn’t fancy, unlike mathematics, and could be easily understood. Manehatten was in the East, where things were meaner, tougher, rougher, grand and significant. Ponyville was in the West, the land of small towns, tight-knit communities, working-class ponies, sweat watering seeds and cultivating the fruit of their labors.
The Oranges were from the East, and here was their foal, cutiemark of an apple slice, in the land of the West and the best. The land where the skies were a little bit brighter. A land so far, far away.
Celestia, Scootaloo...
Emerald irises welled full with tears. At their summoning, Babs Seed took a few hoof-steps backwards, biting down on her lower lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, DON’T CRY!
She swallowed the tide that churned in her heart, threatening to drown her in its depths. It was not regret threatening in the windows of her soul; one wound was healing, but another was fresh and bleeding profusely now.
“Babs…” Apple Bloom whispered, reaching out to her with gentle forehooves. “She…she didn’t mean it…” she lied, antagonist sitting stone and statue from the peripheral of her pupils, quiet as Discord in his downfall.
Mustering the last of her courage, Babs Seed turned and mumbled, “I… I need ta go.”
Stronger, taller, faster than the other foals, Babs Seed rocketed out of the clubhouse, through the threshold, down the drawbridge, and into an orchard of apple trees.
The departed’s cousin glared at her so-called friend and fellow Crusader, tossing a jet-black dagger of her own into wide eyes. “See what ya did! What the hay is wrong wit’ ya?! Why are ya bein’ such a… a bully, Scoots?!” Apple Bloom demanded.
Gesturing to her innocent self, Scootaloo repeated, incredulous, “Me?! A bully?! But, but, I was just asking questions!”
“Don’t ya get it?!” Apple Bloom hissed, slamming her muzzle against Scootaloo's in anger.
Standing firm, hooves planted to the floorboards, Scootaloo spat, “No, I don't! Tell me! Tell me what’s going on!”
Before the Sweetie Belle could play mediator for a second, heart-wrenching time, Apple Bloom exclaimed, “That’s NONE o’ yer darn business, Scootaloo!” Blazing with rage, she felt herself rise on her hindhooves, taking a step towards Scootaloo. “Ah was gonna tell ya what it means, what it all means, but not if yer gonna act like this!”
A light bulb beckoned its appearance above Sweetie Belle’s curls as she happened upon a revelation of her own. “Wait! Babs is an Orange, but she has a cutiemark of an apple. So, that means—”
Pivoting on her hooves, urging towards her exit, Apple Bloom said, “No mo’ time fer talk. Ah’ve gotta go find ma cousin. Don’t come runnin’ unless ya apologize,” she added, shooting an antagonizing filly with a glare of her own.
Sweetie rose from her haunches in protest, but Apple Bloom outran her pleas, galloping against oak and ground in pursuit of Babs Seed.
~
Am I where I'm supposed ta be, doin' the right thing? Was Turner right? Did I listen ta Luna? Or... is dis all a mistake?
Will I eva see Ma, Da', o' Citrus again? If not... it's... all ma fault...
Flasks filled with gnawing fear poured into the cauldron of Babs Seed’s consciousness, where they were stirred and mocked by the sight of the beautiful setting sun. Here, in the West, the horizon didn’t seem as far away.
Mother, sister, and father, however, did.
Sunday night had been a joyous celebration, full of Applejack’s famous apple pie, Granny Smith’s stories of olden days, and Big Macintosh spinning the newest member of the Apple clan in laughing circles. That first night, too, had been wondrous, Babs Seed dreaming of naught but radiance and light, curled safe and sound against yellow forehooves.
Applejack had chuckled, “Hope ya don’t mind, Babs. We only have four rooms here, so Ah guess ya’ll be stayin’ wit’ Apple Bloom most nights.” Applejack feigned obliviousness at the appearance of Babs Seed’s blush, but otherwise didn’t press the issue. There would be plenty of time for those kind of discussions.
Today, in turn, had been a great first day. There’d been no school to attend, Cheerilee holding conferences for her students' guardians (to their foals' fear and loathing). Cousin Macintosh showed her how fields were harvested, gleaming the last of the carrots, turnips, and potatoes before the frost came.
There’d been more than a few teasing chortles when Babs tried on the stallion’s heavy yoke. Strong she was, but the plow barely budged, no matter how hard she tried. Big Mac couldn't halt himself from gentle laughter. “Eeyup, be a long time befo’ ya can help me, lil’ one. But, Ah appreciate ya tryin’,” he'd said, a wide grin shining across his muzzle. Babs Seed unyoked herself and giggled along with him.
Yea, it’s been a good day. Well, up until now...
“Babs?”
Brushing a forehoof against the grass, Babs strained her neck to catch the source of her guest. There, in this thicket of tall, strong, apple trees—bucked of their fruit, straggler leaves falling to the weary Earth below—Scootaloo joined the fourth Crusader.
“What do youze want?” Babs growled, sniffling away her tears as she stared into the sunset.
With a gentle sigh, her visitor whispered in reply, “I… I came to apologize. Apple Bloom was on her way, but Sweetie Belle kinda… sent me flying after her.”
Babs raised an eyebrow. “Youze flew?”
“Yeah. A little.” Scootaloo took a seat next to Babs Seed under the towering apple trees. For a moment, they spoke no words, pondering the fire in the atmosphere. Then, Scootaloo continued, “I’m sorry, Babs. I shouldn’t have asked you something so… personal.”
Babs ran a forehoof through blades of green in distraction, digesting her words. She exhaled after an agonizing pause, releasing tension, and apologized, “I’m sorry, too. It’s... it’s not youze fault.”
Scootaloo looked at her for a second in thought, then divulged, “You know... I haven’t really told anypony about this, but... I think it’s time I told somepony.
“Would you like to be that somepony, Babs?”
Hesitatingly, Babs answered, “I... I guess.”
“Has Apple Bloom told you about Rainbow Dash at all?”
“She says youze is obsessed wit’ her, ta kinda a creepy extent.”
Blushing, Scootaloo muttered, “Heh... that’s... probably true...”
Babs Seed chuckled and replied curiously, “But...what does dat have ta do wit’ me?”
“Well, Babs, um... what I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like to not have something or somepony to come home to,” Scootaloo finished. Tearing away from her, watching the sky again as it burned bright and radiant, the pegasus paused. From the corner of her gaze, Babs Seed swore upon every one of her lucky stars that she saw a tear escape the other foal's eye.
“I have parents, of course. But... they aren’t... around that much. So, I hang out with Rainbow Dash instead. I know she doesn’t really have the time for it—maybe a little more now than before—but I like to pretend that she’s my big sister. That I belong. She's not my real family, but she feels like it. And I guess that's what matters. I mean... I’m a pegasus, Babs. And I can’t even fully fly yet. I’m still stuck here on the ground. But.... she helps me fly. I guess you know that feeling in a way, don’t you?”
Yes... an’ we’re both the puzzle pieces dat don’t fit nicely in the box. “Youze could say dat, Scootaloo,” said Babs Seed. “But, I don’t really want ta—”
“You don’t have to." Meeting her gaze, Scootaloo said quickly, “It was wrong of me to interrogate you like that. It doesn’t matter, all those questions. All that matters is that we’re friends... if you still want to be, of course." She held out her olive branch, a gentle smile spreading across her muzzle.
Returning the grin, Babs said, “Yea, I think I’d like dat,” and accepted the peace offering and forehooves offered to her. They embraced, all trespasses cast aside and forgiven against the burning of dusk's last light.
“Welcome back, Babs."
"Thank youze, Scoots. It's... it's good ta be back."
"One more thing,” Scootaloo whispered. “If you ever, I mean, ever, hurt Apple Bloom... I’ll kick your flank," she vowed, squeezing the filly tight.
Horseapples! “Eh, heh, heh, I don’t know what youze talkin’ ‘bout, Scoots,” Babs muttered as she pulled away from her friend and fellow Crusader.
Before another awkward (albeit deep) conversation could devolve in the orchard, two became four once more, unicorn and Earth pony joining them. “Hey! So you two made up, right?” Sweetie Belle chipped.
“Eeyup!” Babs answered, teeth sparkling in a wide grin.
“See? Yer becomin’ an Apple already, Babs!” Apple Bloom giggled, nuzzling Babs's neck. Heh. Maybe I am. Chuckling at her counterpart's blush, she for the third and final time, “C’mon, y’all! Let’s go get some cutiemarks! Babs, why don’t ya lead us?”
The fourth Crusader rose from her haunches and beckoned towards the south orchard, decreeing, “Last one there owes me a strawberry milkshake!”
Poor in bits but not in spirit, the three Cutie Mark Crusaders charged in hot pursuit of their newest member, reasoning that if they were going to fall behind, at the very least, they could cross second place together. After all, the check was smaller that way.
There were cutiemarks to be found, stories to be shared, but that would come after dessert.