In Sugar Cube Corner, Pinkie Pie was preparing to say farewell to her sisters. After the Summer Sun Celebration, Susan and Maggie had spent a few additional days in Ponyville with Pinkie. The time had been well-spent, and the rock farm girls had fit in easily with Ponyville society, but even Pinkie had to admit that vacations have to end sooner rather than later. In a surprising show of restraint, she had chosen to keep the farewell party small and intimate, involving only her families: the Pies and the Cakes. The food choices were obvious.
“Safe travels,” Mrs. Cake said as she gave Susan a quick hug.
“Thank you ma’am,” the purplish-grey mare said. She then went over to where Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake were sitting in their high chairs with their attention split between their bottles and watching the older ponies. The twins had taken a great liking to Susan, and she in turn had enjoyed helping Pinkie entertain them. They were simply adorable, except for one little thing…
Pound pulled the bottle from his mouth as Susan approached, and then let it drop and held his little legs out to the purplish pony, babbling, “Shoo Fie! Shoo Fie!”
“That’s ‘Susan,’ you little scamp,” Susan said good-naturedly as she beeped his nose, “Don’t you let Pinkamena stop you from growing out of that, alright? You too Pumpkin,” she added, patting the unicorn foal on the head. Pumpkin cracked a smile but continued to resolutely suck at her bottle. Susan turned away from the foals and walked over to where her and Maggie’s saddlebags were waiting by the front door. “We should be getting on our way now,” she said as she settled her bags over her flanks, “are you ready Maggie?”
The light-grey Pie sister had been unusually reserved during the mini-party, having partaken of some of the food but otherwise standing back from the group, lost in her own thoughts. At Susan’s call, she looked up from her contemplation of the floor, biting her lip lightly. All eyes turned to her and she heaved a sigh and looked Susan in the eye. “No, I’m not ready,” she said, “I don’t think I’ll be ready for a long while. I think it’s high time I put my special talent to good use.”
“What are you talking about?” Susan asked, giving her sister an odd look, “Your business skills have done plenty of good for the farm.”
“I know, but…” Maggie hesitated, unsure of herself.
“Come on Maggie,” Pinkie encouraged, “You can tell us. Oo! Or we could try to guess. Selling rocks isn’t challenging enough for you anymore?” Her bright smile faded slightly as Susan gave her a hurtful sideways glance.
“No,” Maggie said automatically, drawing back slightly, but then her ears drooped and she amended, “Well, sort of I suppose.” Susan shifted her focus from Pinkie to Maggie, shock mixing with chagrin. “Sue, between you, Mother, and Father the farm has all the skill and common sense it needs to survive. My talent isn’t in rocks, it’s in helping others succeed in whatever their business is. I won’t try to deny that our farm can use my skills, but lately I’ve been wondering if there aren’t other ponies that need my help more.” She looked over at the Cakes with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “I would very much like to stay in Ponyville for a while longer and look for an opportunity,” she said, “maybe for a couple weeks-” she cut off suddenly as Pinkie dashed over and grabbed her up in a breath-stealing hug.
“Aw, you can stay as long as you want Maggie,” the pink pony said, “I’ll look after you, don’t worry.”
“I… appreciate it… Pinkamena,” Maggie grunted as she struggled to free herself from her overly enthusiastic sibling. She broke Pinkie’s grip and slid free, and then took a second to compose herself and smooth down her mane before addressing Susan. “I know this is sudden,” she said, “but it would save us the cost of another round-trip ticket if I just stay here and you give Mother and Father the news. Would you, please?”
“This is all too sudden,” Susan said, stepping closer to her sister. She closed one eye and opened the other wide, staring deep into Maggie’s. After a moment, Susan nodded slowly and opened her eye. “Your aura’s changed a little Maggie,” she said, smiling coyly, “grown stronger. Fine, I’ll support you, on one condition: if you start sensing or noticing things nopony else can, let me know all about it.”
“Ok, sure,” Maggie said, a touch confused.
“Yay, more sister time!” Pinkie exclaimed happily, hugging Maggie again. She looked over at Susan, and started to say something, but the purplish pony cut her off with a shake of her head.
“I need to go,” Susan said, “I don’t want to miss my train. Good bye sisters, and good luck.” She gave Pinkie a quick nuzzle and then trotted out of the bakery before she could be captured in another hug.
“Sohndar, an Aitran novel,” Twilight said, reading aloud the title of the final book waiting to be shelved, “Magical Fiction, right next to the original book.” She started to send the book toward its spot, but then paused and started to bring it back. “On the other hoof,” she said, “I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet. The first book was a fun read; I hope the author was up to the task of keeping his momentum through the sequel…” She set the book on a reading stand and started to walk over to it when he stomach gurgled. She stopped, looked up at the clock, and then wracked her memory for the last time she’d eaten. She came up with breakfast that morning and nothing afterward. “Spike!” she called, intending to employ her assistant’s assistance in preparing a late lunch, but received only silence in return. “SPIIIKE! Time for him to be getting up anyway…” She walked upstairs, flung the bedroom door open, and fixed a disapproving glare at the baby purple dragon, who was giving her a bleary-eyed glare in return from within his basket-bed. “Up and at ‘em Spike,” Twilight said, flinging his blanket aside and picking him up in her magic, “Time for lunch.”
“I already ate,” Spike said grumpily as Twilight set him down on his feet, “You were too caught up in your re-shelving plans to notice.”
“Well I’m still hungry and I’d appreciate it if my number one assistant could lend me a claw,” Twilight replied.
“All right, can do,” Spike said, lightening up as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Nodding with satisfaction, Twilight led the way downstairs and into the kitchen.
“Let’s see,” the lavender unicorn said, opening the pantry cupboard, “What am I in the mood for…” she trailed off with a frown and then looked over her shoulder at Spike, asking, “What all did you have for lunch?”
“Celery, peanut butter, and a garnet,” the dragon reported, “Oh, and I finished off the last of the old milk.”
“Well it looks like something finished off just about everything else,” Twilight said, closing the cupboard and going to the fridge. She looked inside and pulled out an old, limp carrot. “When did we go shopping last?” she asked.
“Sometime before we got busy with the Summer Sun Celebration I guess,” Spike said with a shrug.
Twilight huffed in annoyance, not sure where to pin the blame and too hungry to bother. “Get some parchment Spike,” she instructed, “We need to make a shopping list.”
Twenty minutes later Twilight was trotting into the marketplace with set of empty saddlebags, a pouch full of bits, and Spike on her back managing the list. “I think you should get something to snack on before we tackle the rest of the errands,” Spike suggested, “Maybe the Cakes or Pinkie will have a new treat to try out.”
“I’m not in the mood for something with that much sugar,” Twilight said, “Besides, I thought you said you’d already eaten?”
“To quote Pinkie Pie,” Spike said, putting on a dignified air, “there’s always room for another cupcake.” Twilight rolled her eyes and chuckled. “We should make a book,” Spike said, thinking, “and fill it with quotes, insights, and the lyrics to those songs Pinkie comes up with. Call it ‘The Pinkie Pie Guide to Life.’ We’d make millions.”
“Interesting,” Twilight said, “but we don’t need millions. We have enough money to live on, and that should be all we want, right?”
“Eh, yeah, heh heh,” Spike said nervously, averting his gaze in embarrassment.
Twilight cast a glance at her coin purse and then looked around the marketplace with a slight frown, noticing the reduced number of open stands and booths. Although Ponyville itself had survived the parasprite attack, many of the farms and gardens had suffered significant crop loss. Some food was being brought in from other towns, and projections showed that Ponyville would be able to support itself again before summer ended, but for the moment prices had risen and choices were limited. There was one stand, really more of a glorified cart, that ooked to be unaffected, although the small, old green mare running it was not a pony Twilight was used to seeing in that role.
“Good afternoon Twilight,” Granny Smith said in her slow, creaky voice as the lavender unicorn approached, “Lookin’ to buy I hope? I’ve got plenny of preserves, jams, and dried apples.”
“Anything fresh?” Spike asked, looking over Twilight’s head at the cart.
“I think ah got some Fujis here… somewhere,” Granny said, ducking her head behind the cart. She hefted a mostly empty basket up onto the cart and stopped to catch her breath. “The young’uns all got a case of that poison joak,” she said, “Bad luck an’ worse timin’ I say, what with the Family Reunion endin’ yesterday. So I gotta do the sellin’ ‘til Applejack and Bloom get the cure.”
“Poison joak?” Twilight said in surprise, “Even Big Macintosh? How’d that happen?”
“Durn blue weed showed up in the east field,” Granny said.
“That’s strange,” Twilight said, “I didn’t know poison joak could grow outside the Everfree Forest.”
“Normally it cannot, Twilight,” a voice said from behind the unicorn. Twilight and Spike both jumped and whipped their heads around to see Zecora walking by behind them, “It does not like much sunlight.”
“Hey, zebra,” Granny smith said, pointing an accusatory hoof at Zecora, “My granddaughters went out lookin’ fer you a while ago.”
“At finding me they did succeed,” the striped equine replied with a calm smile, “I fixed them up with all possible speed.”
“Oh,” Granny said, putting her hoof down, “Well if ya see any of them, tell ta git themselves over here. I’m missing my nap.” Zecora nodded and began to walk away. Twilight threw a few apples into her saddlebag, floated the appropriate number of bits onto the cart, and then trotted to catch up with the zebra.
“Strange days are coming my friend,” Zecora said after she noticed the unicorn pulling up next to her, “but I cannot guess what these signs portend.”
“What signs?” Spike asked, giving Zecora an odd look.
“Parasprites attack in mass on Summer’s eve, and now poison joak flourishes where it would normally grieve.” Zecora raised her head a little, seeming fixated on a random cloud and then looked over at Twilight and said, “There is but one common thread I can see, although it is as tenuous as can be. Because of Ashen Blaze the parasprites were revealed, and now he goes to remove the poison joak from the Apple’s field.”
“You think Ash might have something to do with it?” Spike asked.
“It may just be coincidence,” Twilight said, “but what does he want with poison joak?” Zecora simply shrugged.
“I think we should go chase him down and ask him,” Spike said, a dark, suspicious look coming into his eyes.
“If you want to run all the way to Sweet Apple Acres, be my guest,” Twilight responded, “Ash can be a little weird at times, but he’s never done anything intentionally harmful. He’s kind of like Pinkie Pie in that way, but less bubbly.”
“A lot less,” Spike muttered.
Three of the four ponies that made up the entirety of The Great and Powerful Trixie’s Traveling Thespians were gathered around the kitchen table of the Carousel Boutique, patiently waiting for Rarity to emerge from her inspiration room. The group’s namesake was noticeably less patient as she paced the kitchen floor, her mood growing gradually more sour as the minutes passed. They had done as Rarity had requested and brought Barnacle Salt in with the expectation that they’d jump right into discussing advertisement plans, but the fashionista had simply taken one look at the quartet and then locked herself in her inspiration room saying that she’d be out in ten minutes. “It’s been an hour and a half,” Trixie grumbled.
“Sit down and relax already,” Barnacle said, “You can’t rush genius, as they say.”
“We’re wasting time,” Trixie snapped, whirling on the seafarer, “We still have a show to put on tonight. At the least we could be rehearsing.”
“Oh yeah, great idea,” Harlequin said sarcastically, “I’m sure Ms. Rarity won’t mind if one of your flash-bang diversions accidently sets fire to her curtains. I suppose I could use you as a substitute vaulting horse, but you’d have to hold still for thaackk!” He was pulled up from his seat by a telekinetic grip on his ear and unceremoniously dragged behind the azure showmare as she headed for the back door.
“Let’s have a round of applause for our brave volunteer,” Trixie said with dramatic venom, “For her next trick, the Great and Powerful Trixie will saw him in half!”
“Hold on a second!” Harlequin protested, “You don’t even have the right kind of box for-” The shutting of the back door behind him and Trixie cut off the rest of his plea.
“Oh no,” Cabbage Patch said, aghast, “Trixie’s real mad now…”
“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you my little sea nymph,” Barnacle said reassuringly, “They’re just a little testy ‘cuz things aren’t going so well for us right now.”
“It’s not just now,” Cabbage said quietly, “You didn’t see, earlier. When Trixie and I got here earlier, we found Quin trying to buy some new clothes. Trixie seemed furious.”
“Ar, that would have been a problem,” Barnacle replied.
“She said some bad things about you as well,” the timid earth pony said, drawing in on herself and looking at the floor. She glanced up briefly to see Barnacle’s curious look and continued, “She… she said you protect me too much, like it was a bad thing. How can you protect a pony too much?”
“There are ways,” the seafarer answered, growing contemplative, “Sounds to me like Trixie and I need to have a heart-to-heart if she thinks I’m not doin’ something right. Letting her and Harlequin squabble a bit’s healthy considering their temperaments, but I won’t stand for anything else that’ll make our crew less than shipshape.” He got up and started to head toward the back door, only to pause at the sound of another door in the building being flung open. Rarity appeared in the kitchen doorway, her red work glasses perched on her muzzle as she flourished a bundle of rolled-up papers in her telekinesis.
“I am ready,” she declared, and then looked over her glasses inquiringly when she realized her guests had been reduced in number. “Where are Trixie and Harlequin?” she asked.
“Stepped out for some fresh air,” Barnacle replied, “I was just about to go check on them.”
“Oh, very well then,” Rarity said, entering the kitchen and setting her load down on the table.
“I’ll be right back Cabbage,” the caramel-cream pegasus said, giving the smaller pony a pat on the head before heading to the backdoor. He pushed the door open and saw Trixie and Harlequin staring each other down across a distance of about four feet.
“…to be perfectly honest I’d much rather eat a pinecone,” the mustard-yellow earth pony was saying.
“That can be arranged you know,” Trixie replied, “I’ll have to see if the local flavor’s any good first of course.”
“Ahem,” Barnacle said, grabbing their attention, “If you two could belay this for a moment, Miss Rarity is ready.”
“Well, it’s about time,” Trixie drawled. She entered the boutique with the two stallions in her wake and fixed Rarity with a silent but expectant look when she arrived in the kitchen.
“Et voila,” the fashionista, said, unfurling several of her scrolls and leaving them hanging in the air around her. Each paper was covered in sketches of simple pony silhouettes wearing a variety of detailed outfits. “Now, before you say anything,” Rarity said quickly, seeing the apprehension in Trixie’s countenance, “allow me to explain. Because I am a very respectable and respected pony, if I am going to show support for one of your reputation I have to at least appear to get some benefit from it.”
“So,” Trixie said, grabbing a sketch and bringing it closer to look at, “we are to provide you with free advertisement. I fail to see how this benefits the Great and Powerful Trixie.” She frowned at the image on the paper: a unicorn in a high-riding, flared dress decorated with a star motif, and a matching pointed hat that looked absurdly out of proportion to the head. “And this is hardly befitting Trixie’s character,” she said, flinging the paper away. Rarity glowered at the insult to her skills.
Barnacle stepped closer to the floating sketches and looked them over, eyebrow rising as he saw plans to dress him up in a tricorne hat, a frock coat, and what seemed to be dreadlocks in the mane. Another sketch was of sea-ponies in a variety of simple skirts reminiscent of water plants. “I like the look of these,” he said, “but I won’t be wearin’ my mane like that. Makes me think of pirates. I’m no pirate.”
“These are only preliminary ideas,” Rarity said, mollified slightly, and then looked Trixie square in the eye as she continued, “and it won’t be free advertisement. I’ll provide fair compensation for every design you agree to wear on stage, I’ll have flyers made up to announce my sponsorship, and of course I’ll spread my honest opinion about your actual performances around town.”
“Getting paid to wear new costumes?” Harlequin said, grinning, “I’m in.”
“I…” Cabbage started to say, but then trailed off and simply nodded.
“Trixie’s hat and cape are as integral to Trixie as the cutie mark,” the azure showmare said stiffly. Her fellows all turned their gazes upon her and she caved in with a sigh. “I will not,” she insisted, “but if this will work, you three can knock yourselves out.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. “I’ll be at home preparing my act. The show starts in three hours.”