Dear Rarity,
I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings. The dresses you made are, as always, a blessed sight for my sore eyes! But alas, one dress is missing—dew—and a collection is worthless if it is incomplete. Though you sent six boxes only five arrived in my boutique. I have already fired my security escort for losing a critical aspect of the collection, and sent word to the Crystal Empire, which was the train’s final destination. But I fear some utterly unworthy wretch has availed herself of your magnificent work.
Please visit me here in Canterlot most urgently. If you cannot create another dress by the time of the fashion show I fear the worst for your reputation and for our working relationship. But I am certain you will not permit that to happen. Truthfully I believe we can turn this most unfortunate event to our advantage by presenting your final design as one-of-a-kind, especially if you add new facets.
I eagerly await your arrival.
Yours sincerely,
Hoity Toity
Applejack had been right about Apple Bloom having nightmares. But Sweetie Belle’s bad dreams came as a shock to both herself and her family, because she didn’t go to bed simmering with words as yet unspoken: the last thing she recalled thinking before falling asleep was that thanks to a letter she and Rarity were going to be fine.
She and Rarity were in the kitchen of Carousel Boutique tidying up dinner before Rarity took Sweetie Belle home when a mail pony knocked on the door. They hadn’t spoken about the cutie unmarking since leaving Twilight’s castle.
It was extremely unusual to receive mail in the evening, so Sweetie Belle kept a listening ear on the exchange of pleasantries. The subsequent silence didn’t reassure her, and Rarity’s shriek of consternation upon reaching the end of Hoity Toity’s letter rang every alarm bell in Sweetie Belle’s head.
“Oh, I knew I should’ve gone with them!” Rarity cried.
“What’s wrong?” Sweetie Belle called anxiously. She dashed out of the kitchen. Rarity nearly knocked her over as she cantered in the opposite direction, heading for her workroom.
Sweetie Belle watched the letter flutter to the floor, and bit her lip. It was incredibly rude to read another pony’s mail. After a few moments, she took the letter and hurried upstairs to the workroom, without reading it. Holding an object with her magic took noticeably less effort than it had earlier in the day; carrying one lightweight letter was so much easier than using magic to stop a high-speed book aimed at your head.
Rarity had fanned a large number of rough dress designs in the air and was shuffling through them frantically, searching for her sketches featuring the lost dress. “Where is it?” she muttered.
“Rarity, what does this letter say?” Sweetie Belle asked right behind her.
Rarity jumped, apparently startled by the proximity of her sister’s voice, and released the designs she held with her magic. A flurry of rustling filled the air. Sweetie Belle coughed when dust irritated the back of her mouth.
Rarity shook herself and opened another drawer. Most of the fallen designs were for dresses long since sewn and sold, so tidying away the papers was downright irrelevant to her right now. “I have to go to Canterlot,” Rarity told Sweetie Belle distractedly.
“What do you mean?” Sweetie Belle exclaimed. “Canterlot? Right now? Why? W-w-what about—Twilight’s dress?”
The break in Sweetie Belle’s voice gave Rarity pause. Sweetie Belle’s real question, concealed and replaced with one she thought more likely to make Rarity stop and think was, “What about me?”
Rarity sighed guiltily. What kind of monstrous sister was she to even consider leaving Sweetie Belle at this time? She had a keen eye for spotting events she was not strictly required to attend, occasions that could be missed if need arose though her reputation might suffer slightly for it. Hoity Toity’s upcoming, season-opening fashion show was one, occurring in two days.
On their way home from the castle Rarity decided that if Sweetie Belle was still upset about the cutie unmarking, she wouldn’t grace the show with her presence. That was no longer an option. She was sure that she could make one more dress in time, though the process would be stressful. But to successfully market a dress as one-of-a-kind for the first time required personal charisma as well as quality work, and that meant a physical appearance at the show.
Furthermore Rarity no longer trusted that her other dresses were fine. If any were less than perfect it could spell more than a mere downslide into unimportance. Nowadays her standing in the fashion world was delicately poised between celebrity and character. She had no wish to be a star which burned bright but fast. She desired an enduring reputation.
Rarity chose the best compromise she foresaw in that moment. “We’re in no rush to make Twilight’s dress, darling. But I must leave first thing in the morning,” she told Sweetie Belle. “Hoity Toity needs me. One of the dresses didn’t reach his boutique, so I must reproduce it for him.”
“Why?” Sweetie Belle asked. When Rarity only mumbled anxiously and trotted over to her wardrobe, Sweetie Belle repeated herself.
“One cannot show off a fashion line without the whole line.”
“But it’s not your fault somepony lost your dress on the train. Everypony would understand.”
“It doesn’t matter, darling. Without the final dress my line is incomplete, and my name shall be rendered mud; my career left in tatters!”
Sweetie Belle might have disagreed with Rarity’s melodramatic proclamation if not for the frightening vision of the future Princess Luna had showed her in her dreams when she ruined the headdress Rarity made for Sapphire Shores.
“Well, if you really have to go, can I come with you?” she asked.
“Why-ever would you want to, Sweetie?” Rarity asked.
“Because I helped you make the dresses, and I like Canterlot. Why wouldn’t I want to come?”
Doubtless the fact that half of Rarity’s concentration still centred on the missing dress contributed to the inappropriate shortness of her reply. “Are you lying to me again?”
“It’s kind of funny you’d ask that, isn’t it?” Sweetie Belle said acerbically.
The bitterness in her voice stabbed Rarity like a misaimed needle. “Sweetie Belle!” she gasped, whirling around.
Sweetie Belle looked like her own words had astounded her. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean that.”
Jaw clenched and blinking rapidly, Rarity fought her impulse to demand an apology.
“Sorry,” Sweetie Belle muttered again, ears flat against her head. This time, her voice sounded disingenuous.
“Well… I daresay you’re right,” Rarity acknowledged slowly. “I did lie, and not even for noble reasons.”
She consciously set aside her other priorities to concentrate fully on Sweetie Belle. She’d allowed Hoity Toity’s letter to distract her on a day crucial to her relationship with her younger sister. She could pack later.
“I accept your apology. And I’m sorry too, Sweetie,” she apologised. “It was wrong of me to hide what Starlight Glimmer did to us. I had hoped to protect you. I didn’t really think how much it would upset you to learn I lied to you, because I didn’t want you to find out that I had. I didn’t want you to know about… the unsavoury aspects of our time there. I hoped to simply teach you what we taught the town ponies without… ah, um, without…”
Rarity faltered. A thin layer of sweat had formed on her coat and her right ear felt hot and itchy, as though somepony were breathing on it. Her struggle to even name what had happened was utterly ridiculous considering she was blessed to not remember the pain her friends described.
“I wanted to focus on the good rather than the bad,” she said in a rush instead. “Because I also wanted to protect myself,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to think about what Starlight did.”
Twitching her ear hadn’t alleviated the itchy sensation so she scratched it with her hoof. She met Sweetie Belle’s eyes once more. “I’m sorry that I’ve hurt your feelings,” Rarity concluded, hanging her head in shame. “I hope you can forgive me someday.”
She felt pathetically weak all of sudden and tottered over to her bed, mindful of the dirt on the floor. At least she was still Rarity. She affirmed that to herself by mentally comparing the lavish curtains in her boutique to the drapes in the equalisation house and concluding once again the drapes truly were an assault on the eyes.
Slowly, giving herself time to absorb the apology, Sweetie Belle walked over to the bed. She climbed up and nuzzled Rarity’s chin lovingly. “It’s going to be fine,” she told Rarity. “I think I can forgive you soon.”
“Oh, thank you!” Rarity said, softly and emphatically. Her little sister’s mane smelled wonderfully fragrant: roses and geraniums ousted Rarity’s discomfort. She spontaneously sighed in appreciation and gratitude.
The taxing nature of the day finally caught up with them. Neither had energy for another discussion about hiding truths from one another or other ponies. “Can you take me home now?” Sweetie Belle asked after a minute, yawning, and Rarity did so.
She stayed to bid Sweetie Belle goodnight, in part because she needed to recount the day to her parents. She supposed the seriousness of her countenance kept them from interrupting her when she ushered them to the kitchen table. It certainly inspired her mother to soon put the kettle on and fetch a tin of homemade chocolate-cream cookies.
The sweet taste of her mother’s cookies, when combined with the aroma of chamomile tea, always eased her worries. Unfortunately the pairing didn’t have the same effect on her parents. Their perpetual smiles disappeared when Rarity talked about the equality cutie mark, and morphed into frowns when she mentioned the cutie unmarking.
“This Starlight Glimmer hurt you, didn’t she?” her father asked.
“Hondo, let’s just let Rarity finish telling her story,” her mother said.
“No, I think that’s a pretty important lil’ detail there, Cookie. Rarity, is that what you’re saying?” her father pressed.
Traces of sweat made Rarity itch again. She longed for a bath. “Truthfully, I don’t really remember very much about that part,” she said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. Paternal fire burned in his eyes. “No-pony hurts my girls. Just tell me where this Starlight Glimmer is and I’ll see to her.”
“Father, please, it’s quite all right,” Rarity said, looking pleadingly at her mother.
Her mother bit her bottom lip and put a hoof over her husband’s. “Settle down, Hondo. Rarity’s right here, so she must be fine.” She gave her daughter a pleading look of her own, seeking assurance.
Rarity swiftly glanced at her flank. The whiteness of her coat reminded her of the whiteness of Double Diamond’s rotten smile. If her mother had said that yesterday, Rarity’s agreement would have been honest. Now, she wasn’t sure. But it had been a very long day.
“Please don’t worry about me,” she said to her parents. “I’m sure I’m just tired. It’s Sweetie Belle I’m concerned about.”
She went on to explain the connection Sweetie Belle had made between Trouble Shoes and Starlight Glimmer. Her parents exchanged glances of confusion, apparently having forgotten the intricate details regarding the Crusaders’ adventure in Appleoosa. Rarity didn’t blame them.
As it was growing late, she didn’t dwell on the topic, suggesting they speak to Applejack again. She talked briefly about Sweetie Belle’s current attitude towards cutie marks and her hesitancy around Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. Finally she explained that she needed to stay in Canterlot for a couple of days and the reason why.
“It’s as hard to stay in the big leagues as it is to get there,” her father said.
Rarity held sports in contempt, so she cringed. But his words described her situation to a tee, and her parents didn’t really understand fashion—hence the abominable shirt and straw hat combination Father continued to wear despite her protests. Therefore on another level Rarity was impressed he’d understood enough of her predicament to make any kind of link at all.
She winced when she rose from the table. Her muscles ached, particularly in her hindquarters. As soon as she reflected that she was well overdue for a session with Fluttershy at the spa, her father gave her a crushing hug capable of keeping her going for at least the next two days. They watched Rarity from the window as she walked away from their house.
The rain had finally stopped. She was glad of that when she woke with a start, bad dream fleeing to the far corners of her mind, because it meant she could lean out of the window and let the cool night air dry the sweat on her brow without getting wet.
Dear Twilight Sparkle,
Please forgive my intervention yesterday. I hope I neither ruffled your feathers nor stepped on your hooves. Normally when any critical situation arises I ask my guards to fly me to the beleaguered town post-haste. I’m grateful that since you moved to Ponyville, such actions have become largely unnecessary. Still, Ponyville remains in our direct line of sight, so my eye will always rove across it.
I’d appreciate it if Rainbow Dash would keep me directly informed of how Ponyville’s weather schedule is altered in the coming days. I also respectfully request that you both compose a full report on how this potential flood situation developed, for my perusal, though I’m sure you’re already working on such an account.
Until next time,
Celestia
P.S. Luna is currently also writing a letter to you. It is my belief the subject matter will interest all of you.
Equestria blushed green in the rising sun. A fresh, wet smell drifted in through the kitchen window at Sweet Apple Acres. Normally that scent complimented breakfast. Today it made Applejack feel guilty.
“Lot of work to catch up on today,” she ventured when the stares grew too intense to endure. Big Mac didn’t even offer his usual agreement.
For all of the critical ploughing and planting accomplished during Winter Wrap Up, there was still much to do: all of Equestria sprouted in a rush in spring, weeds as well as crops, and the previous day’s rain had begun the annual battle for control of the fields between ponies and nature.
Aside from grass, celery, and carrots, potatoes and herbs needed planting, and clover limited to its assigned patch. Thistles and vines had to be pulled up ruthlessly before they took root. Snails and caterpillars were hatching, and soon baby bats and foxes would be born, so the orchard needed to be patrolled regularly and the hen house guarded.
It wasn’t an ideal time for Apple Bloom to stick to Applejack’s leg like sugar pine sap. But there was no helping that. The awareness that she’d broken Apple Bloom’s trust sat heavily in Applejack’s stomach, a nut she couldn’t digest no matter how much she gnawed on it. For that reason she didn’t even try to send Apple Bloom away when Big Mac grew tired of waiting.
“You two fancy explainin’ what happened this morning?” he grumbled.
As concisely as possible, Applejack communicated her errors of the previous two days: her regrettable request that Twilight hide the Journal of Friendship, how by distracting Rainbow Dash she and her friends were indirectly responsible for the over-long storm which had nearly flooded part of the orchard, and finally the twin revelations that Starlight Glimmer had removed their cutie marks (which she’d told Granny Smith but not Big Mac) and that the spell caused them pain (which she hadn’t told Granny until then).
She’d started with an apology, of course. Their dismayed expressions made her offer forth another.
Big Mac left to check the banks of their streams in thunderous silence. Granny fussed and scolded until Applejack pointed out the cows, lovely as they were, weren’t competent enough to milk themselves.
The distant clanking of cowbells led them past the field where potatoes would be planted once the earth had dried. Pink worms squirmed and wriggled as birds turned over the soil with their beaks, only to be chased away by Winona, full of verve.
“Reckon you can check the South Orchard for storm debris?” Applejack asked Apple Bloom.
“I’m stayin’ with you, sis,” Apple Bloom answered stonily.
That was that, then.
The clubhouse was empty, just like Rainbow Dash’s home. Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle hadn’t explicitly arranged to hold a Crusaders meeting, but Scootaloo arrived with the hope that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle would also know that they needed to discuss the cutie unmarking, particularly why a pony would want their cutie mark changed.
Scootaloo trotted disconsolately back down the ramp to her scooter. The soil squished under her hooves, sodden with the previous day’s rain. Despite the sun being at its strongest yet this spring, the clearing ran the risk of becoming a mud-bath if Scootaloo did the amount of trick practice she’d intended.
Even though her friends were bound to come to the clubhouse eventually, waiting for them here would be boring. Checking on Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom at home might kick-start the day. Since she’d spent a lot of time with Apple Bloom exclusively in the past week, she decided to see Sweetie Belle first. She scooted along the path back into Ponyville, aiming to spin over every puddle.
The few clouds currently wisped across the sky disappeared as the weather team removed them. Ponyville’s pegasi were either hard at work creating the optimum conditions for a scorching spring day or they were asleep like Scootaloo’s parents, exhausted by their efforts in providing tornado power to empty Ponyville’s downstream reservoir the previous evening.
Presumably Rainbow Dash was one of the ponies working in the sky. Scootaloo hadn’t seen her since she flew out of the throne room in the castle so fast her slipstream spun Pinkie Pie around rapidly on the spot. Twilight and Spike dashed in thirty seconds later waving a scroll and yelling about potential flooding. Questions about the cutie unmarking were put on hold.
The mill that neighboured Sweetie Belle’s house was powered by one of Ponyville’s many streams, and the loud, incessant rush of water through the wheel made Scootaloo pause to look over the edge of the bridge. The river level was noticeably higher. Ripples caused by the water wheel crossed the surface of the swimming hole, drawing her eye.
Scootaloo wondered how Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were getting along with their sisters today. She’d been sad at first that Rainbow Dash hadn’t told her about the cutie unmarking, but lying in her own bed gave her some perspective. Sadly, she and Rainbow weren’t proper sisters. Scootaloo had always idolised Rainbow Dash, but they arguably weren’t friends until the camping trip to Winsome Falls. Even now they rarely talked about anything that couldn’t be classified as ‘being awesome’—and relying on other ponies to rescue one’s cutie mark wasn’t exactly awesome.
And that was all beside the point anyway. Starlight Glimmer was the real pony at fault.
As Scootaloo looked across the water—there was much less mud at the base of the cliff than normal—she noticed Sweetie Belle’s father waving at her from the pier, fishing pole in hoof. She waved back at him and then scooted on over to say hello properly. “Hi, Hondo,” she greeted, trotting along the pier. “Are the fish biting today?”
“Mornin’, Scootaloo, how you doin’ today?” he asked, less brashly than normal. “Ah, I’ve had a couple of bites so far, but you know it’s not about the fish.” He patted her poll fondly.
“You always say that,” Scootaloo replied. Good thing, too, as she’d never seen him catch a fish or even get a bite. She didn’t understand his philosophy about fishing, or fishing itself, honestly.
“Can’t be saying things that aren’t true,” he agreed. Scootaloo waited for a forthcoming explanation, suspecting her patience was in vain.
Sweetie Belle’s father was an enthusiastic pony, at least by standards that excluded Pinkie Pie. He attended pretty much every athletic event held in Ponyville, cheering throughout. Only Rainbow Dash appreciated the Wonderbolts’ Derby more than he did. He loved chatting to every stall-keeper at Ponyville’s myriad fairs. At parent-teacher conferences, Sweetie Belle couldn’t keep him from talking Cheerilee’s ear off about the sports provisions at their school.
Accordingly, two things surprised Scootaloo whenever she said hello and sat beside the pond for a little while, which happened frequently: that Hondo enjoyed fishing so much in the first place, and secondly that he was so quiet when armed with rod and bait.
Fishing was boring. Nothing happened for hours on end. How an action-loving pony could stand the inactivity was beyond Scootaloo’s comprehension. The attraction might be more understandable if Hondo used fishing as a napping opportunity—Rainbow Dash did that when hanging out beside the lake, so napping had to be awesome, somehow. But Scootaloo couldn’t remember ever having seen him asleep while fishing.
She was about to ask after Sweetie Belle when a fish unexpectedly broke the surface of the water with a wet gloopy sound. “Hey, take a look there,” Hondo said. He pointed at an expanding circle of ripples, and then quickly at some indistinguishable spot nearby. “There she goes.”
“I didn’t see it. Why doesn’t it just bite?” Scootaloo asked, disappointed.
“The fish always come in their own time,” Hondo said amiably. “Say, you want to try? Give it some patience and a bit of good old-fashioned practise, enjoy the sun in your coat and wouldn’t you know it, anypony can be an Equestrian-league angler.”
“Fishing has a league?” Scootaloo asked dubiously. Hondo chuckled for a long time, and Scootaloo giggled briefly as she imagined exultant crowds of ponies hollering every time a fish swam close to the surface. She took the fishing rod. Maybe she’d be able to work out what was so fun about something that looked so dull.
She diligently held the pole as Hondo pointed out shadows and silver flashes in the depths. She didn’t manage to glimpse any of them. There had to be something fun about this, but it eluded her, just like the fish did! Soon her forelegs grew tired. She’d been sitting here for what felt like too long. Her need for movement grew. There was an awful itch in her legs that she couldn’t scratch. The fishing line trembled, creating rings of tiny ripples.
Hondo leaned over. With a warm smile he placed his hoof on top of hers. “Whoa now, Scootaloo.”
He didn’t force her to let go, just helped her to hold the pole until she couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped up with a groan of frustration. “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “It’s just so boring! I don’t get it. The fish aren’t even biting.” She gave the fishing rod back to Hondo. “Is Sweetie Belle inside?” she asked. “I checked Rarity’s earlier but she didn’t answer the door.”
“Rarity had to go to Canterlot on some fancy business, all emergency-like,” he said. “Sweetie’s out shopping with her mother.”
“Oh,” Scootaloo moaned. Life kept obstructing her efforts to learn more about cutie marks. “Do you know where they went?”
“Wherever it is I’m sure you and me would find it hoof-biting boring,” Hondo replied with a companionable grin. “I think you’d be better off trying young Apple Bloom. I don’t think my girls will be back for a while.”
“Okay. Thanks. See you later, then,” Scootaloo said.
“Bye-bye, Scootaloo.” Hondo turned his cheerful attention back to the pond, humming the Ponyville anthem.
Scootaloo took to the path to Sweet Apple Acres for the third time. She really hoped that Apple Bloom would be available in spite of her chores. Actually, that didn’t matter, because at this point Scootaloo was willing to help out if it meant not being alone with her frustration.
Failing to learn about cutie mark matters not only opposed their club membership but betrayed who they were. Their blank flanks were still a defining characteristic of their friendship, not just for solidarity against Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon but because the Crusaders shared a growing interest in what cutie marks really meant. They weren’t interested in Starlight Glimmer purely because of Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Applejack. Trouble Shoes’s problem with his cutie mark had intrigued them all too.
She swiftly checked the clubhouse, which was still empty. She stepped back into the sunshine and saw a splash of pink through the trees. Pinkie Pie came into view. Scootaloo remembered that she’d said she would visit the farm this morning, if the Cakes didn’t need her.
“Pinkie Pie!” she called, seizing the chance for company.
“Oh, hi there, Scootaloo,” Pinkie answered. “How are you? Hey, are you crusading?”
“No.” Scootaloo joined her on the path. “I was just checking if Apple Bloom was here. But she’s not. Can I walk with you to Sweet Apple Acres to try to find her?” It struck Scootaloo as strange that Pinkie was walking rather than hopping.
“Of course you can. Isn’t it a beautiful day? Everypony was smiling when I left Sugarcube Corner.” Pinkie waved her hoof at the flowery embankment, and inhaled with a smile. “Don’t’cha just love the smell of lilacs? I always know that spring is here when the lilacs bloom. Of course, I know spring arrives when winter is officially wrapped up but you can’t really smell it ‘til the lilacs come out.”
“Uh, yeah, they’re nice,” Scootaloo agreed.
Pinkie fell quiet. If she were any other pony Scootaloo wouldn’t have worried. But by not burying her muzzle in the flowers or making up a song on the spot, Pinkie seemed subdued, just as she had been when the Crusaders confronted Twilight about hiding the Journal of Friendship. Scootaloo wracked her brain pondering why.
She considered that, like Sweetie Belle’s father when fishing, Pinkie was just enjoying the sounds of nature without her own input. For about five seconds that kept Scootaloo from speaking. Then, feeling very serious and almost grown-up, she asked, “How are you today, Pinkie?”
“I’m okie-dokie-lokie, Scootaloo.”
Scootaloo recalled the previous afternoon. Twilight and Fluttershy had raced away with Spike to arrange an emergency water transfer between Ponyville and Cloudsdale. Their clattering hoof steps gradually faded away, leaving two sets of sisters, Pinkie, and Scootaloo standing in silence in the throne room.
“D’ya need to get your hat?” Applejack asked Apple Bloom. She clearly wanted to get back to Sweet Apple Acres as soon as possible. “Or do you need it, Pinkie?”
“No way, you can totally keep my hat,” Pinkie Pie answered. “I can get another one on the way to Sweet Apple Acres anyway.”
“Uh, Pinkie Pie, what about Gummy?” asked Apple Bloom.
Pinkie giggled. “He doesn’t mind the rain, he’s an alligator.” Scootaloo could hear her bouncing away.
“Shouldn’t you go an’ check on him?” Apple Bloom said rather emphatically. “He’s been by himself all day.”
A long beat passed, causing Scootaloo to look around. Pinkie Pie had her head cocked at Apple Bloom. Applejack was also looking at her sister with obvious concern, which kept Scootaloo observing.
“I’m sure he’s okay. Although he could do with a new coat of shellac on his toenails,” Pinkie said, rubbing her muzzle thoughtfully.
“R-right now?” asked Apple Bloom. “Because it’s okay if you need to look after him rather than coming with us.”
Pinkie blinked, something like uncertainty creeping into her expression. Applejack tried to smile at Pinkie, but there was no heart in it and it ended up looking more like a grimace.
“Uh, Pinkie, if it’s okay would you mind lettin’ us be for the evening?” Applejack asked in a strained tone, and Pinkie’s smile disappeared. “How about you come by the farm in the mornin’ instead?” Applejack suggested quickly.
“W-well, okay. I mean, no problem. I mean, I’ll have to see whether the Cakes need my help,” Pinkie said, her tone considerably cooler.
Applejack nuzzled her quickly. “Thanks, sugarcube,” she said.
Colliding with Pinkie Pie’s leg broke Scootaloo out of her recollection. “Are you all right?” Pinkie asked, looking worried.
“Sorry, I’m okay.” Scootaloo took a deep breath. The air smelled of apples and straw and good, tilled earth. They’d arrived at Sweet Apple Acres.
“Hello there!” Granny Smith hollered across the farmyard from the barn. “Come on over here, you two!”
Her hooves were a blur as she took pieces of straw from a hay bale beside her rocking chair, weaving them together into a simple straw hat. A wagon in front of the open barn doors contained several sorry-looking scarecrows in need of re-dressing.
“Good morning, Granny,” Pinkie Pie greeted. “We’re looking for Applejack and Apple Bloom. Do you know where they are?”
“Well I don’t know as I want to tell y’all ‘fore I have a word with you, apple pie.”
Both Pinkie and Scootaloo were taken aback. Granny put aside the half-completed hat and gave Pinkie a critical look.
“Now I know y’all live exciting lives,” she said, “and you’ve gots to runnin’ all over Equestria helpin’ other young fillies with their friendship problems and lookin’ for your cutie marks. But Applejack and Apple Bloom came home in such a state last night I didn’t know what to think. S’if there hasn’t been enough unexpected adventure for y’all lately, even if it is good for the soul!” she admonished, glaring at Scootaloo. “Poor sapling had nightmares all night, and Applejack didn’t fare much better, frettin’ half the night away like a broody hen. An’ you were nowhere in sight, apple pie!”
Pinkie’s ears flattened. Scootaloo could only tell that Granny Smith was agitated, not understand the reason why.
She was also unhappy to hear Apple Bloom had slept badly. Her own dreams had been a bit scary for a while, but she distinctly remembered staring down Starlight Glimmer with the confidence that she could totally take on the unicorn and win, and grinned to herself. Granted, she couldn’t remember where that confidence came from. She supposed Princess Luna had helped her.
Granny Smith continued. “So Applejack tells us some more about that uppity mare who don’t have a lick of sense far as I can tell: the one with the fancy mathematical cutie mark.”
“She didn’t,” Scootaloo interrupted. “Starlight’s was fake.”
“Since y’all know who I mean there’s no need for them persnicketies,” Granny Smith answered, waving her hoof dismissively. “Applejack tells us that spell took away more’n just special talents. She said that y’all were hurt by her. And all this time little seed barely leaves her side. Still hasn’t, which ain’t useful when there’s chores need doing.”
“I’m sorry, Granny,” Pinkie apologised forlornly.
“I ain’t finished so how can you know what to be sorry for?” demanded Granny, leaving her rocking chair. “Mmm, though maybe I’m ramblin’. Question’s simple, apple pie: why didn’t you come home to Sweet Apple Acres last night? What were you waitin’ for, an invitation?”
Startled, Pinkie explained, “I was going to. But I don’t live here, and Applejack asked me not to come with them. Although I think that was because Apple Bloom didn’t… didn’t want me.” Her face drooped.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t seem like herself while we were walking here, Scootaloo thought. Even when Applejack nuzzled Pinkie the previous afternoon, trying to soothe the injury caused by her words, the pink pony hadn’t smiled again until she and Scootaloo reached Sugarcube Corner.
“Pshaw,” scoffed Granny Smith. “That don’t mean this ain’t your home, apple pie. You come here whenever you want,” she said firmly. “That’s what family is. Don’t need an invitation. You neither, Scootaloo.”
Elation rushed warmly through Scootaloo. Evidently Pinkie felt the same for they both grinned widely. But Scootaloo’s joy was immediately followed by the realisation she wanted to hear those words from Rainbow Dash, and a fear she never would.
“I’ve been worrying something fierce about y’all,” Granny Smith admitted, putting her hoof on Pinkie’s withers and beckoning Scootaloo closer. “This Starlight Glimmer sounds lower’n a snake’s belly in a wagon rut.”
Scootaloo spent a few seconds working the meaning of the phrase out while Pinkie hugged Granny Smith, albeit with a shadow in her eyes that only the elderly mare recognised. “We’re okay, Granny,” Pinkie said. “Especially now. This is definitely this best family ever!” she gushed.
“Now, ain’t you just the sweetest thing,” Granny answered happily, which inspired Pinkie to effervescently twirl her around. “You’ll plumb tucker me out doin’ that, apple pie,” Granny warned, swaying dizzily, and Pinkie worriedly put her hooves around Granny Smith to steady her.
“Why do you keep calling her apple pie?” Scootaloo finally asked.
“Oh, that’s what Granny calls me,” Pinkie said with a little giggle. “Because I’m an honorary Apple as well as a Pie.”
“Isn’t there an actual pony called Apple Pie?”
“There sure is, but we call her Cousin Ella,” Granny Smith said cheerfully.
“Really?” Scootaloo said, and steeled herself for a rambling tale. “Why do you call her Ella?”
Thankfully Granny Smith kept the story short and sweet. “Cousin Apple Pie went to Manehattan and came to the next reunion speakin’ fancy,” she said. “Well, ponies don’t call a thing what it really is in highfalutin’ places like that, and she told us they call a plain ol’ apple pie with ice cream on it, an apple pie ella mode. So we started callin’ Apple Pie Ella.”
Even Scootaloo, hardly the most refined filly in Ponyville, was certain Granny had mangled the pronunciation. But she giggled anyway along with Pinkie, who was back to her bubbly self.
Remarkably, Granny Smith directed them to the South Orchard without needing to be reminded of their original purpose in visiting Sweet Apple Acres. Scootaloo left her scooter in the farmyard beside the wagon filled with scarecrows, so as to keep the wheels mud-free, and listened to Pinkie humming along with the twittering birds as they gambolled under the apple trees.
They heard Applejack and Apple Bloom before they saw them. Pinkie stopped singing so that they could understand what they were overhearing.
“You need a hoof with that branch? It’s pretty big.”
“Naw, I’m fine.”
“You sure about that?”
“I said I’m fine.” As Scootaloo and Pinkie got closer, they heard Apple Bloom say sharply, “Where are you goin’?”
“Kinda looks like scarring on that tree over there. Could be from a bear. I better take a look at it.”
“Wait for me.”
“Now, come on, Apple Blo—”
“Just wait,” Apple Bloom insisted, breathing unevenly.
Scootaloo caught a glimpse of an orange coat behind one of the trees. A few more steps revealed Applejack clearly. A few metres beyond, standing beside a cart half-filled with broken branches and rotten apples, Apple Bloom struggled to lift a tree branch almost as big as she was.
“Let me help you,” Applejack entreated. She didn’t notice Scootaloo and Pinkie approaching. All of her attention was on Apple Bloom.
“No, I can do it; you just gotta wait a moment,” Apple Bloom snapped as she strained her body trying to lift the heavy branch. Her cheeks were starting to resemble her mane in colour.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Applejack said desperately, but as soon as she took a step forward Apple Bloom shouted wildly, “You don’t want me to do it, do you?!”
“That’s crazy talk, sugarcube!”
“Crazy talk? You want to know what’s crazy talk? You lying to me!”
“I’m sorry,” Applejack said, almost helplessly, lowering her head so that her face was hidden behind the rim of her hat.
“You’re only sorry that Rarity gave you up! Kinda funny you taught her how to be a better sister for Sweetie Belle, huh!”
“Rarity—”
“It ain’t about Rarity!” Apple Bloom screamed, stamping her hoof.
“I’m sorry,” Applejack said again, in a small voice. Scootaloo felt small too. She’d never seen Apple Bloom so angry. Perhaps she could hide behind one of the apple trees and sneak back to the farmyard without being seen.
A hoof gently touched her shoulder. “I know it’s tough, but being a family means loving each other and sticking together even when you’re arguing,” Pinkie Pie said. “Come on.”
Scootaloo stayed behind and off to one side of Pinkie, just in case Apple Bloom’s fury extended beyond yelling.
“Hi!” Pinkie Pie hailed, intentionally bucking an apple tree to announce her arrival. Her hooves thudded against the bark and knocked a few small red apples loose. She caught them in her hooves.
“Pinkie?” Applejack and Apple Bloom exclaimed at the same time. “Oh, Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom added, sounding surprised.
“Do you two wanna take a quick break?” Pinkie asked. “We brought something to drink.”
Scootaloo watched, fascinated, as Pinkie reached into her own mane and unaccountably extracted four bottles of apple juice and four colourful straws. “Wow,” she breathed. “Have you got anything else in there?” She parted Pinkie’s curly mane with her front hooves, investigating whether there was further hidden treasure. When she found nothing, she took a bottle of juice over to Apple Bloom.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Of course.” Apple Bloom’s flush faded but Scootaloo took note of how her friend still glared at Applejack, who scrunched her nose uncertainly and trotted over to Pinkie Pie.
“Are you sure?” Scootaloo asked.
Apple Bloom scoffed and scuffed the ground with her hoof. “Yeah, I’m sure,” she muttered. She loudly drank a few mouthfuls of apple juice through her straw. As she smacked her lips, she sighed and her face fell.
“Granny Smith said you had bad dreams,” Scootaloo said worriedly.
“Granny talks too darn much,” Apple Bloom said sullenly. Her gaze flickered between Scootaloo and Applejack, over Scootaloo’s shoulders. She was clearly more interested in her sister than in Scootaloo. Scootaloo turned around so she could observe Pinkie Pie and Applejack too.
Neither pony was speaking. Applejack was holding her hat in her hoof against her barrel. It wasn’t like Scootaloo had never seen her without her hat, but the sight still struck her as strange. Pinkie affectionately brushed her muzzle against Applejack’s neck, and then they hugged, all in silence. Everypony except Granny Smith was so quiet today.
Scootaloo grimaced, at something of a loss. Without Sweetie Belle she wasn’t sure how to cheer Apple Bloom up, and her friend’s sourness curdled her own mood. No wonder Pinkie tried so hard to make downcast ponies smile. She was doing so right now, speaking quietly in Applejack’s ear, which perked up as Applejack chuckled softly.
Apple Bloom snorted and tried to lift the tree branch causing her so much trouble. Her legs shook with exertion, reminding Scootaloo first of fishing beside the pond and then of how Sweetie Belle’s dad had helped her to hold the fishing rod when she got tired.
Scootaloo frowned thoughtfully and put her hooves on the tree branch.
“S’okay, I can do it,” Apple Bloom said immediately.
“But you don’t have to do it by yourself,” Scootaloo pointed out.
A realisation surged through her mind like the bright shockwave of a spreading sonic rainboom.
Trouble Shoes had spent his life alone. His natural clumsiness caused aggravation for rodeo ponies all over Equestria. But none of that was his fault. He’d just never had a true friend to help him understand his cutie mark, and if she and Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle hadn’t gotten to know him he wouldn’t be where he was now: happy. With each day that passed Scootaloo grew more pleased that they’d helped him.
You could accomplish so much with the help of your friends: they’d had a blast re-shelving Twilight’s library before finding out she’d hidden the Journal of Friendship on Applejack’s request. At the same time, Applejack and Rarity had kept their thoughts about the cutie unmarking private instead of being honest, directly leading to Apple Bloom’s bad mood. They hadn’t talked to their sisters or to their friends. If a pony was just going to keep something to herself even when she had friends, then what was the point of having those friends in the first place? Scootaloo would vouch that life without friends wasn’t nearly as good as it could be. It was so boring.
And in the end Starlight Glimmer was just a friendless pony. She’d confused friendship with being identical, but if your friends were just like you, how could they show you fun and new things and light? How could they help you when you were in trouble? Had Starlight Glimmer ever really had a proper friend? She’d done bad things, but so had Trouble Shoes. Maybe she was just like him.
The map must have called Twilight, the Princess of Friendship, to Starlight Glimmer’s town not only to help the inhabitants but to help the founder. And since the Cutie Mark Crusaders were friends with Twilight, they had a responsibility to help her too, just like they’d helped Trouble Shoes.
“I’ve got it!” Scootaloo exclaimed.
“So lift it,” Apple Bloom said shortly, meaning the branch.
Scootaloo grinned apologetically. “I meant something else.” Still, she concentrated on lifting the branch and with a grunt of combined effort she and Apple Bloom succeeded.
“Whoa nelly!” Applejack and Pinkie both cantered over to lend a hoof. Though Apple Bloom frowned, she didn’t insist Applejack stop helping. All together they loaded the branch into the wagon. Pinkie clapped her hooves together in delight.
“I know what to do,” Scootaloo declared proudly, posing in the back of the wagon.
Pinkie grinned joyfully. The Apple siblings looked confused. “With the branch?” Apple Bloom asked dourly.
“No! About the cutie unmarking and Starlight Glimmer,” Scootaloo answered, choosing to ignore the Apples’ scepticism. “But we need to find Sweetie Belle first.”
“Not this again,” Apple Bloom complained. “It didn’t really work out when I said we had to find the Journal of Friendship ‘fore telling Sweetie Belle about the cutie unmarking.”
“Fine, you’re right,” Scootaloo conceded. “We need everypony! Or as many as can make it. So maybe not Rarity.”
“Scootaloo, I’ve got a lot of work to do here,” Applejack told the filly firmly.
Scootaloo turned her best adorable expression on the older Apple, emulating Sweetie Belle. Applejack sighed, relenting. “But I suppose if you can get everypony who’s willin’ here at Sweet Apple Acres, I can make a bit of time to hear ya out…”
“Okay!” Scootaloo yelled, leaping off the wagon. She looked at Apple Bloom, but the other filly was watching her older sister like a hawk again.
“Can I help you?” Pinkie asked Scootaloo enthusiastically.
“Sure, let’s go!”
“Race you to the farmhouse?” Pinkie asked, and took off at breakneck speed before Scootaloo answered. Scootaloo laughed and galloped after her, feeling lighter than she had for ages, as though her wings actually worked.