//------------------------------// // The Apple of my Eye // Story: I'm Afraid of Changeling (and other short stories) // by Cold in Gardez //------------------------------// The Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse was normally a bright and cheerful place, filled with laughing, shouting fillies, drunk on life and youth and the promise of tomorrow. Rarely did a day go by in Ponyville that some harebrained scheme was not hatched there, and when the inevitable chaos and destruction that followed the three fillies around like a duckling after its mother finally occurred, often involving pine needles and tree sap, there were few tears to be found. Most ponies simply smiled, and maybe thought back to their own days, waiting for fate to show its mark on their flanks. Today was not one of those days. Utter, unearthly silence filled the treehouse this day. The three fillies inside said nothing, did nothing, barely breathed, so horrified were they. Only the rustle of leaves outside, and the faint whistle of the wind through the rafters separated their scene from a lifeless painting. Something terrible had happened. The first of them had received her cutie mark. And it was bad. “It’s not that bad,” Sweetie Belle said, finally breaking the long silence. It was a lie, of course, but she was already learning from her sister. Her voice barely quavered. “Your family will, uh, really love it. And you. They’ll still love you. Probably.” Scootaloo was not as good a liar. She couldn’t look into Apple Bloom’s eyes as she spoke. “Definitely. They’ll definitely still love you.” “Oh, yeah.” Scootaloo tried to smile. Somewhere, a mirror broke. “It’s, uh, awesome! And radical! I’d love to have a mark like that.” “Me too!” Sweetie Belle piped in. “I’d show it to Rarity, and she’d be like, ‘Oh Sweetie, that’s a wonderful cutie mark! I won’t disown you or hate you forever for it!’” “Girls, ah appreciate it, but–” Apple Bloom spoke like one already dead. Granite held more life than her voice. “Pinkie would throw a party for me if I got that mark!” Scootaloo broke in. “I mean, she might not know why, but she’d probably throw me one! Cuz she’s cool! Just like you!” “Really cool.” “Super cool. The coolest!” “Girls, you can stop. It’s too late.” Apple Bloom set her head on her crossed hooves. “I just want you ta know, I really enjoyed bein’ your friend.” “Oh, uh, we loved—love! We love being your friend too! We’re still your friend!” Scootaloo sat beside Apple Bloom and draped a wing over her back. “Friends forever!” “She’s gonna kill me.” Apple Bloom poked at the blemish on her flank, shuddered, and turned away. “She’s not going to kill you,” Sweetie Belle said, settling down on Apple Bloom’s other side. “She’ll still love you, because you’re her sister, and sisters are family, and families don’t kill each other. Often. I think.” Silence again. Outside, the afternoon’s light began to dim. Shadows lengthened across the woods, and the quiet sound of farmwork outside drew to an end. Soon their sisters would come looking for them, and then the world would end. “I don’t understand.” Apple Bloom sniffed. “It was just a glass. That’s not a talent! How do you get a cutie mark just from drinking a glass?” The others had no answer. Across the room, the detestable glass lay spilled on the wood where Apple Bloom had dropped it in the first moments of her horror. “It’ll be fine. Really.” Scootaloo said. She gave the glass a wary look, and then turned back to her friend. “Right, Sweetie?” “Huh?” Sweetie started, jerking her gaze away from the glass. “Oh, uh, right! Applejack will maybe be surprised, a little, but that’s all! No killing. Not even a little bit.” “Ya... ya think?” “Y-yeah! Cross my heart!” “Hope to fly!” Scootaloo flapped her little wings. “Stick a cupcake in my eye!” They mimed the gesture and turned their smiles – now a bit hopeful – to their friend. Apple Bloom sighed. “Ah guess. Will you two come with me?” Scootaloo leaned back. That sounded dangerous. “Uh, this sounds kinda personal. Maybe you should just...” She caught sight of Sweetie Belle’s glare and stopped. “I mean, uh, of course we will! Just be sure to tell her in public with lots of witnesses, okay?” “It’s not your fault. It was the glass’s fault,” Sweetie said. All three glared at the glass again. “Thanks girls.” Apple Bloom pressed her cheek against each of their’s in turn, and then rose to her hooves. She wobbled a bit, but didn’t pause as she walked to the door, followed a few steps behind by her friends. The orange on her flanks practically glowed in the evening light.