//------------------------------//
// Chapter Three 
// Story: The Nature of Nurture 
// by lola2901 
//------------------------------//

	I set down the egg for a moment and stare at it. To be completely honest, the most experience I have with eggs is cracking them for pies and pastries-not that I have much more experience with baby ponies. Mom and Dad were still around when Apple Bloom was only just knee-high to a grass hopper-they’d always taken care of her then.
Glancing around the barn, I wonder what I should do now. Just leaving it here in the barn, nestled up in the hay? Eggs are usually in nests. But then, those are bird eggs in nests.
Sighing, I walk over to the ladder in the corner and climb up into the rafters. It’s supposed to be extra storage for bales of straw and hay, but mostly it makes for an attic, since the farm house doesn’t have one, so we mostly dump our odds and ends up here.
Pausing by a large leather travel chest, I blow a few stray straws away, then fiddle with the latch. Pushing the lid open, I glance at the inside, pushing an old camera out of the way. From beneath it, I pull out an old check board quilt, decked with yellow squares and white squares with apples embroidered along them in red and green. It’s a bit old and moth eaten, but it’ll do just fine. Tossing it over my shoulders to keep it close but out of the way, I glance around the loft, trying to decide if I might need anything else.
My thoughts are interrupted by a cheerful chorus from down in the barn below. “Cutie Mark Crusaders dragon hatchers, yay!”
Swearing under my breath I race down the ladder. “Hold up! Hold up girls!” I yell, racing around the corner. The Crusaders look up in surprise. It looks a darn awful lot like Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were trying to help Scootaloo up to sit on the egg. Consarnit, I’ll never understand these girls. “Scootaloo, get down from there. Now.”
The girls help Scootaloo down as I pad over. Taking the quilt around my shoulders in my teeth, I wrap it around the egg carefully. Now that I think about it, what if the egg gets to hot it the quilt and fries? Torn, I decide to leave the quilt, for now at least. “There,” I say, taking off my hat to wipe the sweat from my forehead. “That’s better.”
“Hey Apple Jack?” comes the familiar squeaky voice of Sweetie Belle. “Why do you have a dragon egg in your barn anyway?”
Apple Bloom gives me a dirty look. “Yeah, and if you knew, how come you didn’t tell me?”
“I only just got back with it, and it’s not a dragon egg,” I tell them, chewing my lip. What are the odds Twilight has some book on taking care of magic eggs anyway? Or maybe Fluttershy might be able to help me figure this out. “It’s a siren egg-I’m raising it for the Princess.”
“Whoa, a siren!” Scootaloo says, grinning. She pauses, then looks up at me. “So, uh, what’s a siren anyway?”
“Something to do with music-that’s a question you should be asking Fluttershy, sugar,” I say, returning my hat to my head.
“But why’s it in the barn? Why not the house?” Sweetie Belle squeaks, tilting her head to the side.
I shrug, adjusting the quilt again. “Twilight told me it would be better this way,” I explain, even though it doesn’t make much sense to me anyway. “Anyhow, is there anything you girls need?”
Sweetie Belle makes a curious hum, thinking hard. But rather, it’s Apple Bloom that speaks up, indignant. “Actually yes! You promised to teach us to make pie! And ice cream!”
Scootaloo leaps up in excitement, flying for a half moment before her wings give out and she lands again. “Oh, yeah! Cutie Mark Crusaders bakers!”
I hesitate, looking to the girls. “Huh? Well, I suppose I did promise, didn’t I? Well shucks, I just don’t think it would be a good idea to leave the egg out here alone.”
“Can’t you just bring it inside, just for a little bit?” asks Sweetie, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, Twilight doesn’t have to know, and it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“I did promise to help you bake I suppose,” I say, looking at the egg. “Shucks, I guess it would hurt, would it?” I ask, giving the girls a smile. “Apple Bloom, could you get the oven heating up? And have your friends start cutting some apples into small slices-there should be a crate of them by the door.”
They head out. Picking up my saddle bags from where I left them by the door, I sling them over my back. Trotting back over to the hay bale where the egg sits, I flip open the bag on my left, sliding the quilt and the egg in. It hangs heavy at my side, and I hear a sound like snapping threads. Grimacing, I grab the latch in my teeth, trying to tie it shut, but the egg and quilt are too bulky. It’ll have to be fine for now. Maybe Rarity can make me a bigger bag.
Once I’m sure the egg is as safe as it’ll get, I head through the door into the farm house. The moment my first hoof crosses the threshold from the barn into the living room, I hear a crash in the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I decide maybe bringing the egg isn’t such a good idea. Pulling the bags from my back, I set them down by the rocking chair where Granny Smith is napping, snoring like a mule as she mutters something about boxes in her sleep.
Pushing the door open, I step into the kitchen. Scootaloo’s stumbling in the corner of the room with a pot on her head, Apple Bloom’s covered in flour, and Sweetie Belle’s hair seems singed.
Apple Bloom looks up at me, wiping the flour from her eyes. “Uh, we tried to start on our own.”
Pulling the pot from Scootaloo’s head, I set it on the count and turn to the cabinet, sighing. “Could be worse. You girls really need to be more patient? I shouldn’t even have asked you to chop the apples-what if you cut yourselves?”
Sweetie and Scootaloo sigh, and then Sweetie glances up, sad. “I guess we’ll go home and wash up then.”
I pause, tempted to send her off. Rolling my eyes, I smile. “Nah, we’ll still make the pie. Just let me help you with the hard bits,” I tell them, righting the hefty flour bag and leaning it up against the wall.
Sweetie pause, ears pricking. “But we’re so dirty!” she squeaks, surprised.
“And cooking will probably get you dirty too-Scootaloo, take the broom by the wall and clean up the flour-Sweetie, I want you to start measuring out the dry ingredients, all right? And Apple Bloom sugar, I’m going to help you cut and core the apples,” I say, trotting over to the cutting board. Grinning, I push my hat back on my head. “But now mint chip ice cream. And you have to do dishes.”