As Scoop hurtled through Octavia’s memories a second time, he focused on the task ahead. He wasn’t alone this time, luckily; Octavia hovered beside him, seeming suspended in air as Scoop tumbled end over end.
“For someone who claims to have done this before, you are not very good at it,” Octavia teased. “I guess you cannot physically hurt yourself by colliding with my memories, but I also cannot imagine that it would be very pleasant.”
Scoop frowned and tried to right himself, biting his lip to keep from responding to Octavia’s jab. Flinging his hooves outwards and jerking his head backwards, he managed to correct his tumbling and sail through the vertical shaft as if he were skydiving.
“Everypony’s mind is different, Octavia, and some minds are harder to navigate than others. For example, during my last interview, the pony’s memories were arranged as a hallway with all the memories along one side. All I had to do was walk up and touch one, and I was inside. Most ponies have memories arranged like that; it’s why it takes us a while to remember things. We have to think down a long, dark tunnel before we can pick out a certain memory”
Octavia nodded understandingly.
“You, on the other hand, have your memories arranged in a 360 degree cylinder, far deeper than it is wide. You can easily access multiple memories at once, giving you near instant total-recall. This makes it easy for me to read your mind, but not so easy for me to access memories in your early life.”
“Would it help if there were a way to rotate the cylinder?” Octavia queried.
Scoop placed a hoof to his chin thoughtfully. “Now there’s an idea. Try spreading the memories out to create a path, and then rotate the cylinder quickly sideways. It will create a tunnel instead of this vertical shaft.”
Octavia closed her eyes and focused. Slowly, memories directly below Scoop spread away from each other and left a black path, a waterfall of darkness. “Good!” he said. “Now, just rotate it towards me...”
SMACK! Scoop blacked out again.
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This time, Scoop woke of his own accord. Struggling to his feet from where he had been faceplanted, he heard dainty laughter from somewhere nearby. “You are not going to insist on making a habit of that, are you?” Octavia chided. “You shall not survive very long if you do!”
Scoop tried to shake off his dizziness. “Riiiight...it should be easier now that you’ve made your memories... more accessible. Now, where’s the, uh, party memory?”
Octavia pointed to a brightly lit memory panel.
Scoop trotted up to the pane and peered through into the memory, which was not currently moving.
“Why isn’t it playing?” Octavia asked.
“We have to be inside the memory in order to activate it,” Scoop replied. “Or, you do, anyway. You see, you have to be actively recalling the memory for this to work properly. If you don’t, the memory will stay frozen like that.”
“What are we waiting for?” Octavia said, sashaying through the panel. Immediately, the memory began to move.
Scoop stumbled through after her and gawked as a tiny, pink pony bounced around a colorfully decorated room filled with baloons, streamers, and various party foods. The pony, unmistakably Pinkie Pie, tied ribbons into bows, making sure everything was absolutely perfect... or perfectly imperfect, as the case appeared to be.
Octavia squeed excitedly. “Oh, wonderful!” she said, clopping her forehooves together. “This is a lovely memory... for the most part, anyway. It is one of my fondest memories of me with my sisters!”
Scoop was uncharacteristically silent. He had been pondering Octavia’s breakdown in the last memory. The more he considered it, the more Scoop realized that Octavia wasn’t the sort of pony to be distraught over something so small, so insignificant... could there have been another reason for the cascade of tears which had nearly ruined the trip through Octavia’s first memory?
Octavia gently cleared her throat. “Scoop, are you feeling alright? You seem to have drifted off a little.”
Scoop turned and gave her a grim smile. “I’m fine. We should observe,” he said, motioning towards the ongoing party preparations.
Octavia nodded and turned to watch her seemingly helium-filled younger sister. Pinkie had propped herself on her hooves and seemed to be inspecting a large cake. Turning, she bounced in time to a rousing polka tune blasting from a nearby phonograph. As she bounced, she hummed and giggled in equal parts. “They’re going to love it!” she squeed.
Her reverie was broken by the terse voice of an unseen mare from outside. “Pinkamena Diane Pie, is that you?”
Scoop watched as the pink pony’s hair deflated (!) just a little, a look of fear and guilt shaping her features. Just as quickly, her hair poofed back to its full springiness (possibly to even greater springiness than it had before) and she opened the door of the circular room. A cloud of streamers and balloons escaped through the opening.
“Mom, I need you and dad and the sisters to come in here, quick!” the pink pony shouted to someone outside, quickly slamming the door shut to prevent any more party implements from escaping.
Scoop turned to look at Octavia, trying to gauge her reaction. Octavia looked confused. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“It’s probably nothing to be concerned about, but I don’t actually remember any of this. From what I recall, I was outside the silo during Pinkie’s party preparations. How then are we seeing any of this?”
Scoop sighed in relief, worry over Octavia’s breakdown dissipating a little. “I’m sorry. I may have forgot to mention something about my memory-invading skills. You see, if I have seen the same memory from multiple viewpoints, the memory will play out from a mixture of ALL the views... and, I have seen this memory before.”
Octavia looked up questioningly.
“Pinkie and I had a lengthy discussion about her obsession with parties,” Scoop explained. “She insisted on telling me the story of her Cutie Mark. I told her I would oblige her if I were allowed to see it for myself. I can say honestly that it’s one of my favorite memories as well.”
Octavia furrowed her brow. “But we’re in my mind. You should only be able to see my memories.”
Scoop shook his head. “No, I am in your mind. We are focusing your memories through the catalyst of my consciousness. While you have a deeper connection with these memories even now, if we were viewing them from your memories, they would be from your viewpoint only. First-pony. And everything you chose to forget would be invisible to us. This is a much cleaner way to access memories. In essence, you are in my mind. It’s a give and take.”
Octavia’s confusion seemed to deepen and she readied another question, but at that moment the door to the silo swung inwards and four ponies walked into the room, casting about furtively. A young Octavia was first through the door. She was bigger than she had been in the first memory; she and Inkette were nearly the same height. Papa Pie looked about curiously, while Pinkie’s mother stared straight ahead at the pink pony.
“Surprise!” Pinkie shouted enthusiastically. “Ya like it? It’s called a ‘party’!” Finishing her jovial introduction, Pinkie blew on a noisemaker.
The ponies at the door simply gaped, Papa and Octavia standing openmouthed while Sue and Inkette simply stared in shock at the disarray befalling their silo.
Pinkie’s smile faded as her family’s faces began to quiver comically. Their lips moved in waves, and Scoop found it hard to contain a guffaw. With the quivering of their mouths, the ponies made the most adorable squeaking noises. “A-are they s-sick?” Scoop asked, stumbling over his speech in his effort not to laugh.
Pinkie turned and hung her head. “Oh, you don’t like it,” she said, seemingly on the verge of tears. No member of her family responded, and Pinkie turned to look at them. Simultaneously, their faces burst into wide grins. Pinkie’s grin returned and she ran to grab her mother’s hand. “You like it!” she shouted! “I’m soooo happy!” Nopony but Scoop and the elder Octavia noticed as Pinkie’s flank glowed and an image of yellow and blue balloons appeared.
Scoop observed the young Octavia dancing enthusiastically with her father as Inkette pirouetted about the room by herself.
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Having laughed and enjoyed themselves (as much as was possible without interacting with the memory), Scoop and Octavia shook themselves off and took in the rest of the party. The previously dull ponies had quickly pummelled the room into further disarray, shoving food into their faces in a most Pinkie Pie-like manner (maybe she wasn’t so different from the rest of her family after all). The cake was gone, and the punch bowl had been overturned, spilling the ice that remained onto the floor.
Inkette had not stopped dancing since the party had begun, not even pausing when she was blindfolded to take her turn at pin-the-tail-on-the-pony. She still managed to pin the tail exactly in the middle of the pony’s flanks, netting her the prize of an extra cupcake from Pinkie Pie.
Octavia and her mother had retreated to a corner and were now sprawled across their chairs looking exhausted, but happy. Papa Pie had remained standing, dancing for the family’s entertainment. Pinkie continued to bounce around from pony to pony, making sure that everyone was still having the most fun possible. She bounced to a position directly in front of Scoop and stared him directly in the face.
“Are you having fun, Mr. Daily? I know you can’t taste any of my dee-licious cupcakes, but the party and dancing are still fun, right? Oh, I just know that you love it!” Scoop nearly fainted as the pink party pony bounced off towards the snack table.
Noticing his shock, Octavia said, “Remember, this is Pinkie Pie we’re dealing with.” She shook her head and sighed happily. “Thank you, Mr. Daily. I haven’t laughed like that for a long time. I can’t say it was very dignified of me, but you know; doctor patient confidentiality and all that.”
Scoop laughed. “I’m not a doctor, Octavia, but your secret is safe with me. It’s your memory after all.”
Octavia turned to look at her younger self, sitting in the corner with her mother. They had leaned forward in their chairs and were having a hushed conversation. At some point during the party, the young Octavia had noticed her sister’s Cutie Mark and, being very intelligent from a young age, had deduced that it had appeared as a result of this party. When she had pointed it out to her mother, the conversation had turned to the future and to Octavia’s own Cutie Mark, still yet to appear.
“Don’t worry, Octavia,” Sue said in a soothing voice. “You’ll get your Cutie Mark soon. You are going off to school and all. You’ll learn so many fun things; you’re bound to find out what makes you special!”
The young Octavia beamed, then seemed to deflate. “But I’ll miss you, mommy! I’ll miss daddy and Inky and Pinkie! Will I be able to see you every day?”
Sue sadly shook her head. “I’m afraid not, dearest. But we will come visit you every chance we get. Nine months seems like a long time, but remember, you wanted to learn all about music. This is the best way to do it; the Earth Pony Academy of Music is renowned for its treatment of musically-inclined ponies!”
Octavia seemed to brighten at her mother’s words. “I can’t wait!” she squealed. “I’ll get to meet music ponies from all over Equestria! Do you think the princess will come to see us at the school? Inky told me she likes music!”
“Oh, yes,” said Sue, smiling brightly at her daughter. Scoop could tell that the entire family was reveling in the gift Pinkie had given them; smiling and laughter go hand in hand. “The princess comes every year for the opening and closing celebrations at the school. Sometimes, ponies who learn to play an instrument very well get to perform for her!”
The young Octavia smiled even wider, her face nearly split in half by the grin. “I’ll be the best music pony ever, momma! I’ll play for the princess and for everypony in Equestria! I’ll have my own concerts and music albums!”
Sue laughed. “I’m believe you will, sweetheart. I have faith in you. Just remember, if you ever get lonely, that your family loves you. We want you to live your dream, Octavia; you’ve been given a love for music. Now it’s time to see if you’ve been given The Gift.”
Scoop turned to his companion and raised an eyebrow. “The gift?” he questioned.
“The earth pony affinity for music,” Octavia said. “Contrary to popular belief, not every earth pony can just pick up an instrument and play it like a Goddess. We still have to practice and learn just like anypony else. The major difference is, our connection with the earth allows us to feel the vibrations in the instrument. It makes it a lot easier for us to hear notes and associate them with different chords and vibrations. Some earth ponies are born with it; others have to learn it over time.”
Scoop was taken aback by Octavia’s assessment. “You had never played an instrument prior to this memory?” he asked.
Octavia shook her head. “No, I hadn’t. I was going to music school under the pretext of learning an instrument; in reality, I just wanted to meet the princess. I did love music, of course, but not enough to leave my family behind.”
The rest of the memory slid by as Papa Pie wound down the party and insisted the girls return to their labor. Scoop and Octavia followed the three fillies about as they performed rock-related tasks. Apparently, they had been right in the middle of rotating rocks between fields when Pinkie had suffered her “break”. Noticing her sister struggling with a particularly large boulder, Octavia attempted to push it; her shoulder and part of her head passed right through the rock.
“Well, this certainly is frustrating,” she huffed, trotting back to Scoop with her muzzle in the air. “Being able to see but not being able to interact with memories that belong to me is simply unfair.”
Scoop snickered. “Octavia, this isn’t time travel, like I said before. We aren’t even in your head. We’re in a construct that I have created; a parallel plain of reality. It doesn’t actually exist, so you can’t actually interact with it.”
Octavia huffed again and began observed her young self, who was struggling to push a large rock. The rock rolled onto its flat side and refused to budge. “Celestia,” prayed the young earth pony. “If you help me move this boulder, I promise I’ll play you the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard.”
Mustering her strength, she pressed her shoulder against the boulder and scrunched her eyes closed. She didn’t see as the rock began to glow softly, a golden light enveloping it. It hovered barely an inch above the ground and Octavia was able to effortlessly push it forward. Her eyes popped open in surprise and the rock slammed back to earth. “Wha...” she began, but was interrupted by a call from her father.
“Octavia! Dinner time, darlin’! Leave the rock; we’ll get it tomorrah!”
The young earth pony beamed and scampered off towards the house.
“Did you see that?” Octavia gasped, pointing to the rock. “It just... floated!”
Scoop had seen, and was utterly astounded. “Have you made good on that promise yet? If not, you may want to soon; Celestia doesn’t take things like that lightly.”
“I don’t know. If it is possible, we may wish to move forward to the day I leave for the Academy. It’s the next most significant memory I can recall.”
Scoop nodded and closed his eyes. The memory blurred around them as they shot forward through the undeveloped construct, slowing quickly as they approached the memory. The front porch of the Pie ranch house was decorated with streamers and a big banner bidding Octavia farewell. The pink party pony bounced around the porch notifying all the members of her family how happy she was that her sister was going to be a great musician.
The young Octavia stood next to a large suitcase which had been crammed to the point of bursting. The corners of various items of clothing stuck out between the seams of the suitcase, and Inkette seemed to be trying in vain to force them back through the cracks; not an easy task with hooves.
“When are they gonna get here?” whined Octavia, folding her legs beneath her as she lay down next to the case. “We’ve been standing out here for hours!”
“Octavia, it’s only been fifteen minutes,” Sue chided. “And are you in that much of a hurry to leave your family behind?”
Octavia looked abashed, her face flushing red. Scoop saw out of the corner of his eye that the elder Octavia did so as. He turned and smirked at her.
“What?” she asked. “I was excited! First time away from the family, and I was going to be a great musician!”
A deep-throated voice pierced the air; the Pie family and their unseen guests turned and spotted a pony-drawn carriage rolling up the trail to the ranch house. “Well, Tav, it looks like your ride is here!” said Inkette, throwing her forelegs around her little sister. Octavia returned the hug, her eyes moist.
“I’ll miss you guys while I’m gone!” she said. “But I will write you every single day! I promise!”
Sue’s face was already streaked with tears as a burly, brown pony slowly plodded up to the house. “Well howdy!” he said enthusiastically. “Which one a’ you is ‘Tavia?”
Octavia raised a hoof.
“Goodness gracious, you got so big I didn’t even reconize ya! Well, hop in, darlin’! We’re on our way to Ponyville, then onto Mane-hattan!”
Octavia quickly hugged every member of her family goodbye (save for Pinkie, who wouldn’t hold still long enough for a hug). She lingered in her father’s arms, feeling conflicted. “What if I don’t get to come back?” she whined worriedly.
Her father chuckled. “Of course they’ll let you come back! ‘T ain’t a prison, it’s just a school!” he said, nuzzling his daughter.
“I’ll miss you, papa!” she said, sliding out of his arms and clambering up into the wagon.
“Thanks for coming to get her, Arlet,” Sue said. “How’s the Apple family?”
“Oh, they’re just fine, ma’am,” the pony drawled. “Mah little girl Applejack just returned from Manehattan herself! Got her Cutie Mark too! Three little apples, plain as day! Shucks, Ah just knew she was gonna be the one to run the family business!”
Sue smiled brightly. “And how are Scarlet and Macintosh doing? Last we heard, you had another on the way!”
Arlet nodded his head. “Ayep. Macintosh is gettin’ right big; why, he’s nigh as tall as his old man now! And Scarlet, well, we’ve been tryin’ for a long time... she wants anoth’r little girl so gosh-darn bad, but... maybe Ah’m just gettin’ too old for that.”
“Nonsense!” Papa Pie interjected. “Yer in the prime o’ life! Why, just look at me! Sue’s nigh on fifty, and I’m a sight older than her, and we had Pinkie not but three years back!”
“Well, I guess we best just try again, eh?” mused Arlet. He turned to Octavia. “We best be hittin’ the road if we’re gonna get ta Ponyville by nightfall. You ready back there, Octavia?”
“Mmhmm!” Octavia mphed, her mouth full of an overly-frosted cupcake which Pinkie had given her as a goodbye present (Goddesses knew where she had gotten it). She gulped the rest of the cupcake. “Ready when you are, Uncle Apple!”
“Righty then! Let’s git ta goin’!”
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Scoop had taken Octavi’s suggestion and decided to follow the wagon to Manehattan, hoping to glean some more information about Octavia’s childhood years from her conversation with Arlet. Sadly, Octavia had fallen asleep in the back of the wagon, and Arlet simply plodded along in silence.
“Mrs. Pie, is it really integral that we follow this wagon all the way to Manehattan? He hasn’t even passed through Ponyville yet. Why must we view the memories that not even you want to remember?”
Octavia smiled knowingly. “Something very important to my musical development happens in Ponyville... I think you’ll find the encounter interesting.”
As Octavia finished speaking, Arlet rounded a hill and Scoop could hear the sound of rushing water signaling their arrival in the earth-pony haven of Ponyville. They crossed a bridge over the water and plodded through the silent streets; it was late in the evening and most ponies were asleep or curled up in the comfort of their own homes. One little unicorn, however, sat in a most peculiar position on a park bench holding a stringed instrument nearly half her size. She was plucking at it with her hooves, trying in vain not to touch more than one string at once.
“Well, look who it is! Howdy, Lyra!” said Arlet, his booming voice awakening the young Octavia. “What’re ya doin’ out here this late all by yer lonesome?”
Lyra sighed. “Hi, Uncle Apple. I’m trying to learn to play the Lyre, but it’s so hard! I keep touching more than one string at once! I don’t think ponies are supposed to play stringed instruments with hooves!”
“Well, ya don’t have to play it with hooves, Lyra!” Arlet said, chuckling softly. “Yer a unicorn!”
Lyra looked confused. “Even unicorns have hooves, Uncle Apple,” she said in a slightly condescending voice. She huffed and slumped against the backrest, letting the lyre drop to the ground beneath the bench. “I’ll never be good at an instrument; it’s an earth pony thing!”
Arlet scratched his chin with a hoof. “Ah didn’t mean you didn’t hafta play it, Lyra. Ah said ya didn’t hafta play it with yer hooves! Yer a unicorn, and y’all can play it with magic!”
“Oh...” Lyra looked up and her countenance brightened considerably. “OH!!! I can pluck the strings with my magic! I don’t have to touch them with my hooves!”
She grabbed the lyre in her forehooves and began to focus, her horn glowing a soft, minty green. At first nothing happened, and she began to look depressed. “Don’tcha get upset, darlin’,” said Arlet. “It’s gonna take some practicin’, but you’ll get the hang of it.”
Lyra redoubled her efforts, focusing on one string. With a soft twang, the string vibrated, the sound of a single note filling the air. Lyra cheered victoriously.
“It works! Thank you, Uncle Apple!” She plucked a few more strings, creating a discordant yet somehow harmonious melody. Octavia looked down from the back of the wagon, long since having abandoned any thought of returning to sleep.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to Lyra’s instrument. Lyra was startled by the new voice then, spotting the filly in the back of the wagon, she held up her lyre.
“It’s a lyre!” she said proudly. The instrument glittered in the light of the stars, reflecting a golden glow. Octavia’s eyes sparkled as she reached out a hoof to touch the strings. “My grandmare gave it to me! She says it used to belong to a famous musician, but I don’t know if I believe her or not! She’s gone kinda crazy in her old age, if you know what I mean!” Lyra emphasized her grandmare’s craziness by rotating a hoof beside her head. Octavia collapsed in a fit of giggles.
“Octavia here is on her way ta music school!” said Arlet. “I reckon you’ll be followin’ along shortly if ya get any better at that there instrument, eh Lyra?”
Lyra nodded enthusiastically. “Mom and dad said, if I get good at it, they’ll send me to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns in Canterlot! Music is a rare gift for unicorns, you know,” she said, smiling proudly and placing a hoof on her chest. “I’ll be the best musician ever!”
Arlet laughed. “Ah’m sure you will, Lyra, but you kin bet your horn you’ll get a fair bit o’ competition from Octavia here! She’s already said the same thang twice!”
Lyra extended a hoof to Octavia. “Then it’s a challenge!” she said.
“Right!” Octavia shouted, leaning out of the wagon and clopping her hoof against Lyra’s. “May the best pony win!”
With that, Arlet and Octavia bid farewell to Lyra and made for the Apple homestead.
Scoop stood aghast as Lyra scampered off the bench and made for a nearby house. She tried to walk on her back hooves for a few steps, but decided this wasn’t such a good idea as she faceplanted into the dirt. Magically lifting herself off the ground, she rushed up to the door and let herself in, slamming it behind her. “Was that... the Lyra?”
Octavia nodded proudly.
“You knew Lyra before the Ministry?” he asked a smirking Octavia.
“Why of course! Lyra and I have been friends since this very moment; I still make it a point to see her whenever I’m in Ponyville. She and Bon have become some of my closest friends. I send them tickets to all of my concerts, but they’re so busy that they can only attend a few.”
“Lyra’s pretty renowned in her own right, but I think it’s clear who won that challenge.”
Octavia shook her head. “Lyra is indeed a great musician. There is no comparison between us; she plays with magic, I play with my hooves. We’re both Equestria’s greatest musicians, in our own way. I think everypony who picks up an instrument can lay claim to the title; without inspiration for future generations, music would die. Who knows? Maybe this generation’s Lyra or Octavia will be the next generation’s Celestia.”
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“Do we have to watch this?” Scoop complained as young Octavia bedded down in the Apple farmhouse. “As entertaining as it is to watch Applejack harass Macintosh, I would much rather be watching your adventure.”
Octavia shook her head. “Unfortunately, another very important thing happens tonight. So, we simply cannot skip this single boring portion of my life.”
Scoop huffed and hung his head, his hat tipping down over one eye. ‘What could possibly be more important than her Cutie Mark?’ a voice in Scoop’s head asked. Scoop perked up as that thought crossed his mind, a bright smile breaking across his stony face. “OOOOH!!!” he gushed excitedly. Octavia turned to him with a smirk.
“It isn’t my Cutie Mark, Mr. Daily.”
Scoop harumphed and returned to his slumped position. Octavia giggled.
What seemed to Scoop like hours later (but was, in actuality, about 15 minutes), the young Octavia began shifting and grumbling in her sleep. Her grumbling quickly escalated into moans and she began kicking beneath her blanket.
Scoop swiveled his ears forward, observing the tiny pony on the bed. Her struggles caused her blanket to tighten around her. The moans became more and more audible as the blanket bound her legs to her body, and her moans turned to screams as it tightened about her neck. At this point, Scoop was sure she was awake, as her eyes were wide with terror.
“Oh, Celestia!” Scoop exclaimed, attempting to loosen the blanket. His hooves simply passed through the pony as if she were made of cloud. “Octavia, do something!”
Octavia shook her head and pointed a hoof at the door, which burst open. A streak of orange and gold catapulting itself through the air to land on the bed. “Don’t worry yourself, ‘Tavia! Ah’ll protect you from them night monsters!”
Octavia’s screams subsided as Applejack struck a protective stance, balancing on one hind leg and holding her other hooves aloft. “Come and get me, ya hairy varmints!”
“Wha...?” the young Octavia began, but was cut off as Applejack flew into a flurry of kicks and bucks. She quickly lost her balance and tumbled to the floor.
“Ah, dangit!” she yelled. “They knocked me offa the bed! Quick, ‘Tavia! Save yerself! Ah’ll hold ‘em off while you run fer the door!”
The young Octavia seemed convinced by Applejack’s antics that there was indeed some type of malevolent monster lurking somewhere in the room and quickly rolled off the bed, still wrapped in the blanket. As she untangled herself and tossed the blanket backwards, Applejack let out a squeal.
“There ya are, ya thievin’, murderin’ coward! Come back here!” Once again, Applejack lept off the ground and sailed through the air towards the blanket, which had spread out in its flight, mimicking a pair of shadowy wings. Applejack bounced off the bed and into the blanket’s folds, swiftly becoming entangled therein. She thudded onto the bed, wrestling to free herself. “Ah’ve got him distracted, ‘Tavia! Run and get Pa!”
This proved unnecessary as, at that moment, Arlet and Scarlet pushed through the door, nearly trampling Octavia in their haste. “What in tarnation?” Arlet yelled, grabbing the writhing mass on the bed. “Applejack, what in Celestia’s name are ya doin’?”
“Ah got ‘im, Pa! Ah told ya there was giant bats in the attic, didn’t Ah? Just lookit the size of him! Git him offa me afore he starts suckin’ mah blood!”
“Bats?” Scarlet shrieked. Arlet’s head swiveled as he tried to determine where the “bat” ended and where his daughter began. As realization dawned on him, he chuckled, untangling Applejack from the blanket.
“This bat, Applejack?” he said patronizingly. Applejack’s eyes widened, and she quickly looked around the room.
“Drat! Little varmint’s gone and tied me up with a blanket and escaped! Ah’m goin’ after him!” She darted out the door of the room. “C’mon, ‘Tavia! Iffen we split up we’ll find him twice as fast!”
Octavia darted out the door after Applejack. “I’m right behind you, AJ!”
Scoop hadn’t lasted past Applejack falling off the bed. He had collapsed into guffaws and was now rolling about on the floor holding his sides. “This is just too good, Octavia! Giant bats! Oh, Celestia, save me!” he laughed, tears rolling down his face.
Octavia was having trouble maintaining her own composure. “I th-thought you’d enjoy th-that!” she said, trying to keep herself from bursting into laughter as well. “I r-remember th-this being funny, b-but seeing it myself is... priceless!” she gasped, no longer able to contain her mirth. Her laughter joined Scoop’s, creating a cacophony of guffaws and whinnies unheard by the house’s residents.
“Sh-shouldn’t we follow them?” Scoop asked, picking himself up off the floor, having finally managed to gain control of himself. Octavia cleared her throat, running a hoof through her mane and looking flustered.
“Yes, I believe we shall!” she said, turning and trotting out the door. They followed Arlet, who had darted out the door after Applejack and Octavia. They could hear the sounds of breaking glass somewhere in the house.
“Drat!” shouted Applejack from somewhere below them, her voice clearly audible through the wood floor. “The rat bastard’s broke a vase!”
Somewhere in front of them, they heard Scarlet gasp. “Applejack! Where did you learn that word?!?” Scoop laughed again. They followed the noises through the hall and down the stairs. Chaos greeted them as they rounded the bottom of the staircase and trotted into the Apples’ kitchen.
Applejack was standing on her hind legs on a counter, holding a curtain in her forehooves and tearing at it with her teeth. Arlet was trying furiously to light the lanterns on the wall, and Scoop spotted Octavia under the table, peering out at something crumpled on the ground. Scoop was able to identify it as the matching curtain from the other half of the kitchen window.
“Applejack Golden Apple, you git down offa that counter right now!” Arlet bellowed, and Applejack quickly complied. The light from the lantern had revealed the error she had made, and she now looked sheepish.
“Ah guess... the bat flew up them stairs again,” she said. “Didja get ‘im, Pa?”
Arlet seethed. “There is no bat, Applejack! Just lookit this mess y’all made!” Arlet motioned to the counter, which was covered in spilled flour, Applejack having broken a nearby jar. “Now, y’all are gonna clean this up and then git back ta bed!”
Applejack grabbed a nearby cloth and wet it in the sink, quickly getting to work. Octavia, as of yet unnoticed by Arlet, slunk quietly back up the stairs to her room. Scoop and the elder Octavia followed her.
Climbing onto her bed and snuggling beneath the blanket, Octavia mused to herself. “I sure am glad that AJ’s around to protect me from giant bats. Too bad it got away. It’s nice to have a strong filly like her protect me...” she said as she drifted off to sleep once again.
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Having received permission from Octavia, scoop cycled through the rest of the memory, coming to a halt as Octavia climbed aboard Arlet’s wagon. She turned and waved a hoof at Applejack, who was standing on the porch of the Apple house.
“Y’all come back real soon, y’hear?” Applejack yelled; Scoop had noticed that the pony had a hard time controlling her volume. “We’ll go up inta the attic and show that bat what happens when ya mess with us!”
“Promise!” Octavia yelled back. Arlet had already hitched himself to the front of the wagon, and he turned a wary eye on Applejack.
“Y’all be good now, Applejack. Don’t make no more problems for yer ma, hear me? Do what she says.” Applejack nodded quickly and dashed off into the house. A soft thud reached Scoop’s ears and he heard Macintosh yell in pain.
“Applejack!” came Scarlet’s piercing voice. Arlet shook his head and looked over his shoulder.
“Are ya ready, Miss Octavia?”
“Ready!”
“Alrighty then! Next stop, Manehattan!”