Growth

by Squinty Mudmane

4: The road to Ponyville

It was raining again.

Marble listened to the persistent drumming of raindrops falling on the canvas roof of the cart. It mingled with the squeaking of the left rear wheel and the creaking of the bench boards whenever she, her mother or her sister shifted in their seats. The entire cart lurched every time they came across a hole in the dirt-turned-mud road, which seemed to be every few seconds now.

Her mother and sister were just barely visible in the gloomy interior of the cart, but while it was dark, it was at least dry and relatively warm compared to being out in front of the cart. Her mane and coat was still wet from the last time it had been her and Blinkie out there, and the layer of drying mud caking her legs itched fiercely.

A hoof nudged her in the side. “Hey, sis, pass me a hardtack, would you?” Blinkie whispered.

Marble nodded and reached for the small lockbox beneath her seat. She opened the box and took out a pair of the dry biscuits before putting it back in its place. Blinkie gave her a hushed thanks as Marble gave her one of the hardtacks, which she acknowledged with a nod. They ate the crusty pastry as quietly as was possible with a food that was as suited for bludgeoning rocks as it was for eating; their mother was sleeping in the seat across from them, and neither wished to wake her up.

“This is gonna take awhile to get off,” Blinkie muttered as she finished her biscuit, scrubbing a few flecks of crusty mud from her fetlocks.

“Just think of it as wearing really fancy boots,” Marble whispered back with a little grin.

Blinkie bit her lip to stifle a laugh. “I don’t think my imagination is as lively as yours.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, listening to the sounds of the moving cart and the falling rain. They had been traveling for the better part of the day, and dusk had well and truly settled. There were no sounds of birds or other animals; they likely had the common sense to seek shelter rather than move about in this weather.

The cart ground to a halt, which meant one of two things: either they had arrived in Ponyville, which was unlikely, considering the view through the rear opening of the cart still showed the same open road they had been moving along for the past couple of hours, or—

“Girls! Shift!” their father shouted from the front of the cart.

Or that, Marble thought to herself as she and Blinkie both got up from their seats.

Within seconds of jumping out of the back of the cart, she was soaked again. The words ‘torrential downpour’ had never seemed more apt. Their father came around the cart, wearing his habitual expression of stoic indifference, even though his thoroughly drenched and floppy hat made it look as if a big black bird and fallen on top of his head and died. He was followed by Blinkie’s coltfriend Flint, who simply smiled brightly at the two sisters, as if the rough weather was nothing but a minor inconvenience.

The two pairs passed each other wordlessly, though Blinkie and Flint did brush particularly close together as they passed one another. Marble slipped the harness on with practiced ease, and Blinkie followed suit, giving her sister a smile of somewhat forced cheer.

“Well, let’s hop to it, shall we? I’d say to race you there, but, you know...” Blinkie gave a little shrug of her shoulders to indicate the ropes of the harness attached her to the cart behind them.

Marble smiled back, grateful for the attempt at humour, if nothing else; the morass of muddy road in front of them did not leave a whole lot to smile about.

They lapsed into silence again after that, both preferring to conserve their energy for pulling the cart. After about an hour’s worth of trudging through the rain and mud, the cheer had been well and truly sapped from Marble. From what their father had said, Ponyville was still another good four hours of travel away, and she dearly hoped the rear wheel would not pick this moment to break down. To top it off, the wind seemed to be picking up.

She turned her thoughts to their destination instead. How long has it been since you left, Pinkie? Nine years? Ten? What have you been doing all that time?

Pinkie, their sister who had shown them a glimpse of something more, something brighter than working the fields every single day.

Pinkie, their sister who had left for those brighter things, leaving Marble and Blinkie to work the fields every single day.

She loved her and she hated her, just a little.

“Do you think she’s missed us?” she asked her sister quietly, despite her earlier resolution not to talk.

Blinkie did not respond. Either she had not heard the question over the wind, or she simply chose not to reply.

Marble looked at her for a moment. Blinkie was becoming more and more like their older sister, defying their parents in small, yet significant ways. For close to two years, she had stubbornly refused to respond whenever she was being addressed by her birth name. It had resulted in endless arguments with their parents, instances of cold silence at the dinner table, and repeated groundings when her parents inevitably got fed up with Blinkie’s defiance.

Eventually, Marble had become something of an intermediary for most day-to-day matters. Their parents would tell her something addressed to ‘Limestone’, and she would have to relay it to ‘Blinkie’ standing right next to her.

Marble had always been the good filly who did what her parents told her with minimal fuss. Only once had she tried to do what Blinkie did and insisted on a different name, but the look her father had given her had made her resistance crumble almost instantly, and that had been the end of that.

It had actually been Flint who had finally caused some degree of thawing in the otherwise very frosty relationship between Blinkie and their parents. The young stallion had started showing up a couple of months back together with Mr Chipper, the aging quarry worker who brought fresh loads of transmutable rock to the farm on a fortnightly basis and who was the family’s sole link to the world beyond.

Blinkie and Flint had gotten off well almost immediately, chatting incessantly during offloading, to the point where Mr Chipper had once boxed Flint’s ears for slacking. Their parents had initially been vehemently opposed to Blinkie spending so much time with Flint, but after their father gave Flint a thorough interrogation—which Marble later learned from Blinkie had mostly amounted to “What are your intentions with my daughter?”—they had slowly warmed up to him, allowing him to come visit, inviting him for dinner…

Their father had even gone fishing with him once. Apparently the wish for grandfoals outweighed the dislike for their daughter’s antagonism.

Not very nice of you to think like that, Marb, her ingrained self-chastisement reminded her.

It did not make it less true, though.

---

The hours seemed to stretch on as the two sisters slowly pulled the cart along the road. Occasionally, a brown sodden leaf would fall from one of the tree branches reaching over the road and land with unerring precision on Marble’s forehead. Of all the days they could have gone to visit Pinkie, they had managed to pick the one where the pegasi had to use up all the excess rainwater.

That was what Marble assumed had to be the case, at least; in truth, she had very little knowledge about how pegasi and the weather interacted. The most she had seen of it was the odd glimpse of groups of pegasi pushing clouds across the sky, high above the rock fields, most often heading to neighbouring farms that were more reliant on fixed amounts of downpour for best crop yield.

“Hey, sis, do you see a light over there?” Blinkie asked suddenly.

It took Marble a moment to realise what her sister was talking about, but then she saw it too: a lamppost, shining—or so it seemed to her tired mind—like a lighthouse in the dark. The lights of more lampposts dotted the roadside further on, and Marble felt her heart make a small leap. It could only mean that they were finally nearing their destination.

In an unspoken agreement, they both picked up speed from the weary slog they had been moving at before to an eager trot, fresh energy rushing through them at the prospect of getting out of the rain. A weathered signpost illuminated by one of the lamps confirmed Marble in her assumption; only one mile remained until Ponyville.

As they came clear of the trees surrounding the road, more lights appeared in the distance, along with the outlines of houses, promising warmth and shelter. Along with that came a curious sensation of wonder; the furthest Marble had been from home had been one of the small nearby hamlets, numbering no more than ten houses, and even that had only been on the rare occasions that her father needed help carrying supplies. Even from this distance, Ponyville seemed to Marble to be less of a ‘ville’ and more of a full-fledged city. She was pretty sure she had even seen railway tracks leading in its direction at one point.

Pinkie had mentioned something else in the letter as well—Blinkie had snatched the letter so they could read it after their parents had gone to sleep—something about them having family in Ponyville, which was more than a little surprising. As far as Marble knew, the only other relatives they had were Granny and Nana Pie, and she knew for certain that neither of them lived here.

They had just passed a sign that said ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ when there was a loud crack and the entire wagon lurched sideways, accompanied by surprised yelps from its passengers. Marble’s hooves slipped on the treacherous road and she was treated to a faceful of mud as she fell flat on her stomach.

“What the heck is going on out there?” their father’s voice barked from the rear of the wagon, followed moments later by the stallion himself.

Marble scrambled back on her hooves, helped by Blinkie who seemed to have come out of the accident no worse for the wear. She spat out a few flecks of mud that had gotten into her mouth and shrugged out of the harness. Their father and Flint were already inspecting the back of the wagon, where one of the rear wheels had broken almost in half. A hole in the road with a sharp rock at the bottom seemed a likely culprit.

“Sun dangit to heck!” their father cursed in an uncharacteristic lack of restraint. He shot the sisters an accusatory look. “What did I tell you about watching out for bumps in the road?”

“Well, maybe if we had fixed the wheel before we left, instead of just assuming it would hold,” Blinkie snapped back before Marble could voice her apology. The old stallion narrowed his eyes and looked about to give her an earful, but Flint’s voice forestalled further arguing.

“Rear axle’s broke, and it looks like the other wheel’s about to give out, too,” he said, on his knees in the mud and head stuck underneath the wagon. He pulled back out after a moment and shook his head. “No way we’re fixin’ that without proper tools for repair.”

“But our luggage is going to get soaked if we have to carry it in the rain,” their mother protested from beneath the canopy of the wagon.

“Sorry, ma’am, but the cart’s goin’ nowhere fast like this,” Flint called back.

“I guess we’ll have to find a mechanic in town,” Marble said, wary of her father’s temper, “but I don’t think anypony will want to come out here and fix it this late, in this weather.”

The older stallion gnashed his teeth for a moment before speaking. “Well, I’m not leaving our wagon out here overnight.” He looked at the broken wheel for a moment before turning his stern gaze back to Marble and Blinkie. “Go find your sister, tell her we’ll need help getting it moved into town. She mentioned she was staying in a bakery of some kind. Sugarloaf Clover or something like that.”

“Yes, Dad,” Marble replied almost automatically. Blinkie said nothing, but fell in step with Marble once she turned and headed for the town.

“It’s Sugarcube Corner,” Blinkie said once they were some distance away from the wagon.

“Hm?”

“The place where Pinkie is staying. It’s called Sugarcube Corner, not Sugarloaf Clover.”

“Oh.” Marble looked at the first couple of houses they passed. None of them looked particularly out of the ordinary, though all seemed inviting. “Well, I guess he just forgot? I don’t think he—”

“He’s had plenty of time to read the letter,” Blinkie said brusquely. “He’s either getting senile, or he’s being wilfully negligent about this.”

“Do you think he’s still angry at Pinkie?” Marble asked after a moment. Blinkie didn’t reply; the look she gave Marble was all the answer she needed.

They walked in silence for a bit. Apart from more houses and quaint cottages, they passed what looked strangely like a tree with several balconies and windows built into it. The street they walked down soon opened into a larger plaza of sorts, dominated by a large circular building. Judging by the sheer size of it, Marble assumed it had to be important.

“So, uhm…” She glanced at her sister. “Which way do we go?”

“I have no idea,” Blinkie admitted after a moment.

Marble looked around in the hopes of finding some clue about their destination. There were at least half a dozen streets they could walk down, along with even more narrow, unmarked passages between buildings.

“Well, let’s try… that one,” she suggested, pointing towards one of the wider streets at random.

“Seems as good a bet as any,” Blinkie replied with a shrug.

As it turned out, the street had a number of shops lining it in addition to what seemed to be more regular dwellings. Each shop was equipped with a sign that either had the name of the store or had a helpful picture indicating which kinds of wares were being sold. Marble halted in front of one, scarcely able to believe what she saw.

“Blinkie, look!” she said with wonder.

“What is it?” her sister asked, coming up next to her.

“They have a quills and sofa shop!”

“What?”

“It’s true! Look!” Marble pointed at the elaborately carved blue sign hanging above one of the stores, emblazoned with a quill and a fancy-looking sofa.

“Ooo...kay? How does that help us at all?”

“I didn’t even know it was possible to make a living running a quills and sofa shop.”

Blinkie rolled her eyes, clearly not as impressed by this discovery as Marble was. “Well, apparently it is if you live in a big city like this. Now come on, I want to get this over with before I catch a cold or something worse.”

They continued down the street until they came to a building with a roof striped like one of the peppermint drops Marble had once gotten from Granny Pie. Light still flowed from the display windows, which were overflowing with more kinds of candy and confectioneries than Marble had names for.

There was no name on the store sign, only a picture of some other kind of candy, but Marble decided that this was most likely Sugarcube Corner; after all, sugar did feature prominently all over the shop. She and Blinkie walked up to the front door, pushed it open, and stepped right into a heated argument between two ponies.

“Look, Bon-Bon, all I’m saying is that it doesn’t prevent you from participating as well,” said the first, a mint-coloured unicorn with a silvery mane. “See it as an opportunity! We could set up our own stall and everything! Besides, didn’t Pinkie already ask you to help out with providing cotton candy?”

“That’s not the point, Lyra! I always volunteer to organize events like this, and Mayor Mare always picks Pinkie, no matter what the occasion is!” the other mare retorted, an earth pony with a beige coat and a mane striped blue and pink. “And it always ends up churning out a huge profit for Sugarcube Corner,” she added with a sour expression after a moment. “All I ask for is a fair chance. Is that too much?”

“I don’t ever hear you complain when we’re actually at Pinkie’s parties,” the unicorn apparently named Lyra replied with a smug smile.

“Not. The. Point,” Bon-Bon hissed, turning to the cash register set on the counter. At that moment, both ponies noticed the two sisters standing awkwardly in the doorway, and the dour expression on Bon-Bon’s face vanished instantly in favour of a friendly and inviting smile. “Oh! Welcome to the Sweet Drop Shop! How can I sweeten your evening? Perhaps a box of freshly boiled hard candy?”

Marble and Blinkie exchanged glances, aware that they were likely about to make the earth pony’s evening just a little bit worse.

“Actually…” Marble began.

“We were wondering if you could tell us where we can find Sugarcube Corner?” Blinkie asked.

“We’re looking for our sister Pinkie, you see.”

“And we’re new in town, so we don’t really know our way around…”

The happy smile vanished from Bon-Bon’s face almost as quickly as it had appeared, though she made an impressive effort to hide the disappointed frown that threatened to replace it. “Oh… I see.” She glanced at the unicorn next to her. “Ly, do you mind?”

“You’re such a pouty-cat…” Lyra said with a little shake of her head. She stepped towards the sisters and gave them a friendly smile. “It’s pretty easy, don’t worry. If you go back up the street towards the town centre, then head down the second street on your right, you’ll get there if you keep going straight. You can’t miss it; it’s the big house decorated like candy.” She grinned wryly. “Well, the other house decorated like candy.”

“Second street, big candy house. Got it,” Blinkie said with a nod. “Thank you very much.”

“No problem at all! And when you see Pinkie, please tell her we’ll be happy to help out with the festival in whatever way we can,” Lyra said, giving the other mare an expectant look. Bon-Bon merely shrugged in response.

Marble nodded, feeling both confused and curious. Festival? Pinkie, what exactly are you planning?

“Uh, right, we will.” She glanced over at the somewhat gloomy Bon-Bon, feeling a stab of pity for the earth pony. “And we’ll be sure to come by and buy something later.”

“Oh, don’t mind Bon-Bon. She’s just being a grump,” Lyra said with a little grin, which earned her a huff from the other mare. “Although it’d be fun to chat some other time. I didn’t know Pinkie had sisters.”

“Well… thanks again, and have a good evening,” Blinkie said with a final wave as she headed out the door, followed by Marble.

“Be seeing you!” Lyra called cheerfully after them.

“Yes, good evening,” Bon-Bon said wearily.

“Well, that was awkward,” Blinkie said as the door closed behind them and they stepped back into the rain.

Marble glanced over her shoulder as they walked back up the street. “They seemed friendly enough, though, don’t you think?”

Blinkie shrugged noncommittally. “I suppose.” She headed to the right as they came back to the town centre.

Marble chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully for a moment before following. “What do you think that ‘festival’ they were talking about is?”

“No idea. Guess we’ll just have to ask Pinkie when we find her?”

“Guess so.”

Turning down the street they had been directed to led them past another row of houses, another mix of homes, shops or a combination of both, no two of which looked alike.

“You think that’s it?” Blinkie asked, nodding towards a building lit up with colours and festive decorations. Marble assumed the roof on the upper parts of it were meant to look like frosting like that on the cupcakes Pinkie had sometimes baked back home. Either that, or it was running wax.

“Well, there’s a sign with a giant cupcake hanging from the wall there, and it’s the only candy-shaped house I see around here, so it might not be a bad bet,” Marble replied.

She stopped a short distance from the door; she felt distinctly certain that she had seen something pink in one of the windows for a fleeting second. She looked at her sister who was ascending the steps leading up to the door.

“Did you see that?”

Blinkie raised a hoof to knock on the door. “See what?”

Before Marble could reply, the door was flung open and they were both showered with nothing short of an explosion of confetti and streamers.

“Surprise!” a high-pitched voice full of joy and happiness screamed, and the two sisters suddenly found themselves being pulled indoors by a pair of pink forelegs.

“Wha—?” Blinkie managed to blurt before they were both enveloped in a bone-crushing hug.

“You came! You came! You really came this time! Oh, I’m so super-duper squee-tastically happy I could just burst!” Pinkie cheered and bounced on the spot, heedless of the fact that she was getting mud and rain water all over herself as well.

“Pinkie, we—” Marble tried fruitlessly as Pinkie let them go, but her voice was drowned in the unbridled enthusiasm of their estranged sister.

“I’m so, so, so-so-so-so happy to see you again! I can’t wait for you to meet everypony and—”

“Then why didn’t you write sooner?!” Blinkie snapped, glaring at their sister with an anger and hurt that startled Marble.

Pinkie paused mid-jump, her radiant smile being replaced by a look of utter bafflement. “Wh-what? I’ve written to you every week of every month of every year since I left! Just ask Da—” She looked from Blinkie to Marble to any phantom parents that might have followed them through the door. “Uh, are… are Mom and Dad not with you?” she asked carefully.

“They’re just outside of town. One of the wheels of the wagon broke down just as we arrived,” Blinkie explained, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean you’ve wr—”

“My goodness, you came by wagon in this weather? How dreadful!” a feminine voice exclaimed with shock, and Marble suddenly realised that they were far from alone in the room they had been dragged into. In addition to the three sisters, there were no less than five other ponies; three of them looked to be around Pinkie’s age, while the last two, an older mare and stallion, looked to be in their middle years.

Pinkie clasped her hooves to her mouth and let out a gasp. “Oh no! You mean they’re stuck out there in the rain?”

Marble scuffed a hoof against the floor, then immediately stopped when she realised she was leaving dirt marks on it. “Kind of, yes. Dad refuses to leave the cart there. He wants to at least get it into town, and he sent us here to get some help.”

“We’re on it,” said one of the younger mares, a blonde-maned earth pony wearing a brown hat. “Shouldn’t be too big a hassle gettin’ yer wagon hauled over here, missin’ wheel or not.”

The pony who had spoken previously, a unicorn with a white coat and an immaculately styled mane, nodded in assent. “Absolutely. We’re happy to help.” She shot a fretful glance through one of the windows. “Even if it means getting a little dirty.”

The blonde mare let out a chuckle and came over to the three sisters. “It’s okay, Rares. I reckon Pinkie, Mr Cake an’ I together with Pinkie’s family are enough to move anythin’ short of a train cart here, so long as it’s still got at least one wheel.”

The stallion took off the apron he wore and stepped forward to join them at the door. “Applejack’s right, though maybe you could have something warm to drink ready for when we get back?” he asked, directed at the older mare whom Marble assumed was his wife.

“Of course, and I’ll have some warm blankets ready when you get back,” the plump mare replied. She looked at the unicorn and the last pony, a yellow pegasus with a long pink mane standing next to her. “Rarity, Fluttershy, could you help me with that, please?”

“C’mooon! We can’t keep Mom and Dad waiting!” Pinkie said impatiently, jumping up and down next to the door.

Marble felt a little pang of sadness in her heart as she looked at her older sister. Pinkie seemed so excited, so eager to reunite with their parents. However, Marble was unsure just how mutual that feeling was. Blinkie was still looking at Pinkie with resentment, but it was tinged with confusion and uncertainty.

The four mares and Mr Cake went back outside, the latter having donned a rain cover at the insistence of his wife. Blinkie led the way with Pinkie in hot pursuit, followed by Marble and the blonde earth pony apparently named Applejack, with Mr Cake bringing up the rear.

“So I don’t think I caught yer names. My name’s Applejack,” the mare said conversationally, seemingly supremely unconcerned by the heavy rain pelting them all with a vengeance. “I seem to recall Pinkie tellin’ me one of ya was named Li—”

“Blinkie. My name’s Blinkie,” came the curt, firm reply from the front.

“And I’m Inkie,” Marble said before her mind could formulate a proper response.

Blinkie briefly looked over her shoulder at her. Although she said nothing, Marble could read both surprise and something else in her expression. Was it pity? No doubt she remembered how Marble’s last attempt at using that name had gone as well as Marble herself did. Or perhaps it was just irritation at Marble’s feeble attempt to… do what, exactly?

What am I even doing? she thought, her ears drooping a bit. Am I trying to pretend I’m somepony else? Am I going to be more like Pinkie and Blinkie just by calling myself something similar? She glanced back at Applejack. But she doesn’t know who I am. Maybe… maybe I can be somepony else here. The thought brought a little smile to her lips and a knot of determination to her stomach. Inkie, the self-assured and confident pony.

Pinkie’s head whipped back and forth to look at the sisters in turn, a wide smile on her face. “Blinkie and Inkie? Ooh! I like those names!”

Applejack gave Marble a slightly puzzled look for a moment, then she smiled. “Well, it’s real nice to meet ya both. Pinkie might’ve told ya already, but the four of us are actually cousins.”

So she’s that other family we’ve got here in Ponyville? Marble thought curiously. The mare did not look particularly like either of her sisters. Then again, Pinkie looked different from Marble as well; where Pinkie’s mane was as puffy and unruly as it had been since the day she had gotten her cutie mark, completely unaffected by the downpour, Marble’s mane hung limply down her face and shoulders like a wet curtain, even more so than usual.

She tried to get a better look at the mare next to her, but the gloom surrounding them even with light from some of the windows of the houses surrounding them made it difficult to make out any real details. She was big, though, even bigger than either her or Blinkie, and she had a friendly, open face.

“She mentioned, yes,” Marble replied with a nod. “I didn’t even know we had family elsewhere.”

Pinkie looked over her shoulder at her and grinned excitedly. “I know! Isn’t it great? Oh, but we’re gonna need to come up with a name for Applejack, too! Then we can be Pinkie, Blinkie, Inkie, and—” she scrunched up her face in thought for a moment “—Blondie!” she declared happily.

All four other ponies stared at Pinkie for a moment, even Blinkie, whose earlier bitterness seemed momentarily replaced by amusement.

Pinkie looked from face to face, puzzled. “What?” She sidled over to Applejack and slung a foreleg around her neck, looking at her with a doe-eyed smile. “You like it, right, Applejack?”

“I think I’ll stick with my real name, if’n ya don’t mind,” Applejack deadpanned.

“What’s wrong with ‘Blondie’?” Pinkie asked with genuine confusion, reaching up with her other hoof to fluff the ponytail that Applejack wore her mane in. “You’re blonde. It’s got that ‘ie’-ending. It’s perfect!”

Applejack rolled her eyes with a little smile and gently but firmly brushed Pinkie’s hoof aside. “Pinkie, just ‘cause you like it don’t mean everypony wants a different name. I’ll stick with ‘Applejack’.”

Pinkie just shrugged, her smile unfazed. “Okidoki!” she said, continuing forward with her bouncing gait.

Marble did her best to suppress a giggle; she had forgotten the almost infectious mirth being around Pinkie induced.

They came to a halt, and Marble saw they were back in the town centre again. Blinkie was looking around uncertainly at the various streets. With a sinking feeling, Marble realised they were lost again.

“I think we… we came up that street there, and then we went down that one…” Blinkie mumbled, looking from street to street, which all seemed identical now.

“Did ya notice any particular buildings or landmarks when ya came here?” Applejack asked, walking up next to Blinkie.

“Well, there was this odd treehouse…” Marble suggested carefully, unsure if that was any good indication. For all she knew, there could be dozens of treehouses in the town.

“Oh, the library? That’d make it the east end of town.” Mr Cake offered from the back.

“Right. This way, then,” Applejack said with a nod as she headed down a street seemingly at random, but she walked with purpose and certainty. The three sisters fell in step behind her, Pinkie in the middle, Marble on her left and Blinkie on her right.

“So, you’ve been sending letters every week?” Blinkie asked in a measured voice, looking at Pinkie carefully.

The older sister nodded eagerly. “Yep! Every week on the dot!”

Marble and Blinkie exchanged glances. There had been no letters from their sister in over ten years, not even a tiny note.

“Pinkie… we never heard from you,” Marble said softly.

Pinkie’s eyes widened to saucer-like dimensions. “What?! But I even asked the mailponies if they were sure they’d delivered them until they told me to stop asking because I was ‘slowing down the schedule’!” Her brow creased into a little frown. “I thought for sure that meant you’d gotten the letters…”

Blinkie furrowed her brow. “Well, something must have gone wrong, because we never got any letters. Are you sure you got the address right?”

“We helped her check and doublecheck the address,” Mr Cake interjected. “Everything fit there.”

“I know where the farm is, silly-billy,” Pinkie said with a bemused smile, reaching out to put a hoof on Blinkie’s shoulder. “I can recite it in my sleep! It’s—”

Blinkie slapped the hoof away and instead jabbed her own accusingly at Pinkie’s chest. “And it didn’t occur to you that maybe, just maybe, the reason you didn’t hear back from us is because we didn’t get the letters?” she snapped.

Pinkie’s smile crumbled like brittle glass and she shrank back a little. “I… I thought maybe… you were just busy…”

“Busy for more than ten years?!” Blinkie almost screamed, eyes wide with anger. Pinkie flinched, sitting on her haunches now. “If it really meant that much to you, why didn’t you just deliver at least one letter in person?!”

Pinkie’s lower lip quivered, looking at her younger sister with shock and hurt until Applejack stepped in next to her protectively, shielding her from Blinkie’s glare and returning it with a disapproving look of her own.

“I don’t know ’bout you,” Applejack said in an even tone, “but the Pinkie I know always does the best she can to make other ponies smile, so if she didn’t deliver one in person, I’m sure she had a good reason.”

“I was… s-scared to go back,” Pinkie eventually said in a tiny voice. “But I know Mom and Dad got the letters. The mailmare Pinkie Promised she had delivered them…”

Blinkie snorted, sending out a little puff of vapour from her nostrils. “Oh, I see, she Pinkie Promised…”

Marble wrestled with indecision. On some level, she agreed with Blinkie’s accusations; she knew for certain that neither she nor Blinkie had seen even a hint of a letter from their sister. At the same time, though, it was clear to her that Pinkie was telling the truth about having tried sending them letters, and she did not think that Pinkie deserved to be treated like this.

Blinkie narrowed her eyes as Marble stepped up next to Pinkie, facing their middle sister together with Applejack and Mr Cake. “Oh, you’re siding with her now? Well, there’s a surprise,” Blinkie spat.

Marble flinched inwardly at the venom in her sister’s voice; it was not the first time she had felt it directed at her. “There’s got to be some other reason we didn’t get any letters,” she said. “We should ask Dad about it. He always gets the mail.”

Blinkie was quiet for several moments, seething so much that Marble was a little surprised that the water did not turn to steam around her. “Fine, but this isn’t over,” she growled with a resentful look. Marble could not tell whether it was directed at her or at Pinkie.

They continued on in awkward silence, Blinkie walking on her own now a short distance behind Applejack. Marble knew better than to try and talk to her sister when she was in a brooding mood this bad.

“Thanks,” Pinkie muttered next to Marble so quietly that she was unsure if she had heard anything at all. She glanced at her older sister and gave her a wan smile, which Pinkie reciprocated with a frail one of her own.

“I think I see ‘em. That your wagon there?” Applejack called ahead of them.

The lopsided wagon was where they had left it, looking forlorn and pathetic, as if it had been left to the ravages of the elements for months. “That’s the one,” Marble confirmed wearily. Great first impression we must be making.

“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Pinkie asked carefully, looking around as if they might be hiding in the bushes.

“Probably taking shelter in the wagon,” Marble replied, then called out towards the cart: “Dad? We’re back!”

A moment later, their father emerged from the back, followed by Flint. “Took you long enough,” the old stallion said with a scowl as the five ponies got closer.

Pinkie lit up upon seeing their father. She bounded forward, smiling happily and sending up little sprays of water and dirt with each eager step. “Hi, Dad!”

Their father regarded his long-lost daughter for a moment with an impassive expression that could have been hewn from stone before speaking in an equally indifferent voice. “Pinkie, Limestone and you—” he pointed a hoof at Mr Cake “—support the right side of the wagon. Marble and you—” he gestured at Applejack “—lift up the left side. Flint, go to the front with me.”

Well, so much for ‘Inkie’, Marble thought with a sinking feeling, which sank even lower when she saw the crestfallen expression on Pinkie’s face; she looked as if their father had just slapped her, which he might as well have done. Her ears pinned back against her skull as their father walked past her without a second glance.

Marble ducked her head slightly and headed to the rear of the wagon as their father walked past, but rather than following her, Applejack looked at Mr Pie with a tight-lipped frown.

“That ain’t no way for a father to greet his daughter,” she said to the old stallion.

Marble’s breath caught in her throat as Mr Pie stopped briefly and looked at Applejack, but rather than snapping at her for her impudence, he simply ignored her and continued past her. Marble let out a little sigh of relief, only for her jaw to almost drop to the ground when Applejack calmly stepped in front of Mr Pie and blocked his path. Even the old stallion seemed taken aback for a moment, but his expression quickly took on its habitual quality of supreme authority.

“Step aside,” he commanded in a voice that demanded unquestioning obedience. Years of being exposed to it almost made Marble’s legs move on their own, even though the voice was not directed at her. Applejack, however, simply remained where she was, her expression equally as unyielding as Mr Pie’s. Even more amazingly, she was looking him directly in the eye without flinching.

“Not until you say hello to Pinkie,” Applejack replied evenly.

They glared at each other in dead silence, Mr Pie subjecting Applejack to the full force of his will-crushing glare, to which Applejack responded with stoic determination. The only sound was the steady downpour of the rain. Marble had to remind herself to breathe.

To Marble’s great surprise, it was her father, not Applejack, who eventually gave up in their battle of wills. He turned his head towards Pinkie, his jaw working almost mechanically. “Hello, Pinkie,” he said, and after a quick glance at the still-unyielding Applejack, he added in a tone utterly lacking in warmth: “It’s nice to see you again.”

Marble almost could not believe what she saw and heard. Her father never backed down in a confrontation like that.

Mr Pie glared at at Applejack with an expression that would have made stone flinch. Applejack simply nodded and stepped aside, letting the old stallion pass. She followed him with her head for a moment, but despite her victory, there was no smugness or gloating on her face, only a look of sadness. The old stallion slipped into the harness at the front and looked over his shoulder at the other ponies. His gaze passed briefly over Marble, and though she could see the frustration and anger in his eyes, he bottled it up inside like most other things. When he spoke, his voice was calm and almost normal.

“Well, let’s get to it. To your places,” he said, and the spell that had mesmerised them all was broken.

Marble slipped under the wagon next to the broken half of the wheel and began to lift with her back, straining her muscles. After a moment, Applejack slipped in next to her, and together with Pinkie, Blinkie and Mr Cake, they managed to lift the rear portion of the wagon off the ground.

There was a sound of wood sliding against wood and a loud thunk, followed by a low curse. “Careful out there! The luggage isn’t fastened, you know!” their mother shouted from within the relative shelter of the wagon.

“Sorry, dear. Can’t be helped,” their father replied. He looked from Marble and Applejack to the three ponies on the other side and nodded. “All right, let’s get this into town so we can all get someplace dry.”

A mix of strained grunts of assent were their reply as they began to move the broken wagon forward. Despite being used to moving large boulders around the farm at home, Marble felt her back and legs protest under the weight of the wagon. She did not envy the others who were unused to moving heavy loads on a daily basis. She glanced at Applejack next to her, but if the other pony found the burden hard to bear, she showed no signs of it. Her heart almost jumped into her throat when her cousin turned her head to look back at her.

Although Marble had never tried being flayed alive, she reasoned that the scrutinizing gaze of her cousin’s eyes—remarkably green eyes—came pretty close to it. However, this was not the same willful look as before that would likely have reduced her to a whimpering filly on the ground. Instead, Applejack’s eyes seemed to be searching for something in Marble’s face, and once again she became acutely aware that some of the first words she had spoken to her newfound cousin had been a lie. Despite wanting very badly to look anywhere except at Applejack, she was unable to turn away from the measuring stare.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Applejack turned her attention back to the road in front of them, head kept low beneath the undercarriage, and Marble let out a breath she did not realise she had been holding.

“So which is it?” the other mare asked after a moment, quiet enough that only Marble could hear it over the plodding of hooves and the creaking of the two wheels still on the ground.

Marble swallowed a bit and exhaled quietly. “Marble,” she replied softly.

Applejack nodded her head slightly, thoughtfully. “It’s a nice name. Don’t know why you’d try to hide it.”

Marble did not know how to reply.

Comments

[nemryn]

Their father and Flint were already inspecting the back of the wagon, where one of the rear wheels had broken almost in half.

See? You just can't trust wheels.

[Misago]

For the first half of the chapter, I was wondering why Limestone was suddenly Blinkie. That's a clever way to integrate the old fanon names with the story, I think.
Also, I do love the characterization more and more, especially Applejack's. It would make sense for her to stand against everyone not treating their family right, and for her to be stubborn enough to get her way even against someone like Pinkie's father.
And, to get a little bit more meta, Marble, as the obedient, nice daughter, being impressed by Applejack standing up to her father, and still showing herself as kind to anyone who deserves it is a much more believable way to establish a special connection than "love at first sight of AJ's beauty" or something similar.
So, yeah. This chapter is probably my favorite so far. This story is going to get better and better, I think.

[elmago02]

Their father regarded his long-lost daughter for a moment with an impassive expression that could have been hewn from stone before speaking in an equally indifferent voice. “Pinkie, Limestone and you—”

Remember that Pinkie's full name is Pinkamena Diane Pie. Just as her father use Limestone instead of Blinkie, he probably would use Pinkamena instead of Pinkie. At least for this part.

[Blue_Paladin42]

See, this is why you bring extra axels and wheels. NEVER skimp on those.

4118517
I think it might actually be deliberate on his part. It's sort of saying she isn't really his daughter anymore, along with not actually greeting her.
Ie, he is being a dirtbag.

[elmago02]

4119357 If that was his intention, Pinkie's father should have called her "you".

[AppleFire-Fan99]

I do hope Pie family comes around and everything works out.
As for marble telling lie did seem to have any real negative impact. Also im curious to see where things go with AJ. she seemed real torn up in the 1st chapter.

[Squinty Mudmane]

4125427
The Pie family has a... troubled relationship. We'll just have to wait and see what happens.

4119444 4119357
To say that Mr Pie's relationship with Pinkie is frosty would probably be an understatement. Poor Pinkie.

4116904
Glad to hear the name thing worked out all right. When I started writing, I was debating which set of names to go with. This seemed like a good compromise.
And yeah, don't let AJ catch you being belligerent towards family. She doesn't take kindly to that kind of behaviour.

4116387
They're scheming, plotting bastards. Never underestimate them.