Growth

by Squinty Mudmane

6: Morning in the Apple house

Hoofsteps on wood. Floorboards creaking gently. A door opening with a faint squeak.

Through bleary, sleepy, half-closed eyes, Marble saw a pair of strong hind legs and a blonde tail disappear out the doorway. A name floated about in her head somewhere, seeking to attach itself to an owner even as her mind threatened to fall back into slumber. There had been a trio of apples on those shapely haunches. Apples… apples… Applejack… she thought with a languid smile.

A crushing sense of guilt and shame washed away any vestiges of drowsiness; that was most definitely no way to be thinking about her cousin. Marble let out a little groan and turned onto her stomach to bury her face in the soft pillow.

Okay, let’s try that one more time from the top: I am going to wake up, and I will be refreshed and a well-adjusted pony. I’m absolutely not going to do anything awkward or embarrassing today. Right? Right!

She turned around again and almost screamed at the canine face hovering mere inches from her own, looking at her with curiously expressive eyes. She frantically scrambled backwards, getting her legs entangled in her blanket in the process, until her retreat was stopped by her head hitting Applejack’s bed.

“Ow!” she groaned, rubbing the back of her head while desperately willing her heart to stop trying to escape through her ribcage. “H-hello, uh, Winona, right?” she said once she was reasonably sure she had control over her own body again. The dog’s tail wagged in response.

“You shouldn’t scare ponies like that, you know, especially when they aren’t used to dogs!” She gave the dog a stern, admonishing stare, in response to which Winona merely tilted her head.

“Urf?” Winona replied, using her muzzle to nudge a rubber ball between her front paws towards Marble. The dog looked from her to the ball and back again expectantly.

“You… want to play?” Marble asked uncertainly, picking up the ball in her hooves.

“Arf!”

“Well… okay. What do you like to play, then?” It only occurred to her after a moment that she was waiting for a reply from a dog. A dog!

So much for being a well-adjusted pony, she thought with a little shake of her head. She knew that Paws, the shaggy old dog that Mr Chipper brought with him to the farm sometimes, loved to play fetch. Mr Chipper would throw a stick away, and Paws would always chase after it with apparent glee.

“All right, well… catch!” Marble threw the ball to the other side of the room. Winona darted after it in a blur, catching it before it could bounce off the floor a second time. The dog trotted back to Marble and proudly deposited the ball back in her lap.

“Woof!” Winona declared.

Marble gently patted the dog on the head. “Good girl,” she cooed, picking up the ball. “Wanna go again?”

Winona barked once in what almost seemed like confirmation, and Marble lobbed the ball out into the hallway.

She stood up and glanced at herself in the mirror while she waited for Winona to return; it looked as if she had gotten most of the mud out of her coat last night, though her mane could use a little attention. She reached into her bag and slipped the strap of her brush over her hoof, running it through her mane a few times. While she went through the motions, she cast a look through the window, but the world outside was obscured by a thick fog. Once she was satisfied that her mane was back to its usual straight self, she put the brush away just in time to be startled by a wet nose nudging her thigh.

“You’re an insistent one, aren’t you?” she said with a little smile as Winona deposited the rubber ball in front of her hooves. “All right, fine…” She picked up the ball and walked out the room, with Winona following closely. “Ready? Fetch!”

Winona took off like a bullet the moment the ball was thrown down the stairs. She disappeared around the corner at the foot of them as the ball bounced off a wall and into the living room. Marble felt a dopey smile on her face as she headed downstairs after Winona, hearing the scrambling of paws against wood as the dog chased the elusive ball.

This is fun! No wonder ponies keep dogs around. The thought was immediately replaced by the image of either the ball or Winona accidentally knocking over and breaking a potted plant, a lamp, a photo or any of the other highly breakable items in the living room. She rushed down the last few steps and stopped in the doorway, letting out a sigh of relief as Winona proudly presented the rubber ball to her.

“Good girl, Winona! Good girl!” Marble said emphatically, feeling almost elated that the living room appeared to be intact.

Her ears swiveled around at the sound of a door opening behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Applejack manoeuvring through the front door with a wooden cask balanced on her back.

“Mornin’, Marble,” Applejack said cheerfully, smiling as she looked from Marble to the excited farmdog, who momentarily abandoned the rubber ball to greet her owner. “You gettin’ along all right with Winona, I take it?”

Marble nodded eagerly. “Yeah, she’s great! We don’t have a dog back home, but I kind of wish we did now.” She felt a sudden spark of worry as she looked at Winona, who was now trying—unsuccessfully—to get Applejack to throw the ball as well.. “Uh, it’s… it’s not a problem that I’m playing with her, is it? I mean, I don’t want to make her undisciplined or something…”

“It doesn’t work like that, don’t worry,” Applejack said with a little chuckle as she headed into the living room, Winona padding after her good-naturedly. After a moment’s hesitation, Marble followed them as well. “And if anything, she could use some more playtime every now an’ then. Girl like her has got a lot of energy to burn.”

“That’s good to know,” Marble said. Surreptitiously, she watched her cousin’s mannerisms; Applejack did not seem to be behaving strangely. Maybe there had been nothing behind her words yesterday after all. Then again, Marble would hardly claim she knew the mare well enough to know what to look for.

Watching her mannerisms. That was all Marble was doing. She most definitely was not watching the swaying motions of Applejack’s hips and her strong back as she carried the heavy-looking barrel as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. The only thing stopping Marble from slapping herself across the face was the fact that her cousin would most likely notice the noise.

Stop doing that! What the blazes is wrong with you? she thought, feeling a fluster and embarrassment she dearly hoped did not show on her face. Maybe I just need to go dunk my head in a bowl of water or something.

“So I guess you’re keen on gettin’ some breakfast in ya?” Applejack asked without looking over her shoulder, heading for the kitchen. “Don’t know how it is for you, o’course, but I usually feel famished whenever I wake up. Besides, didn’t seem like you had a whole lot to eat yesterday.”

The growling of Marble’s stomach at the mention of food replied for her before she could, and she felt an almost ridiculous sense of relief rush through her; she was just a bit woozy from not having eaten properly in a while. The relief became mixed with an anxious, tingling sensation as Applejack shot her an amused look.

Marble stuck her nose up and shrugged lightly. “Well, I guess I’m a little peckish,” she said airily, trying her best to play it off.

That got a laugh out of Applejack, and Marble chuckled as well, although hers was—in her own ears—rather more nervous.

“So, what should I do?” Marble asked, looking around the kitchen at the various cooking utensils.

Applejack opened the door to what Marble assumed was the pantry and placed the wooden cask inside. “Oh, you don’t need to do anythin’. Just sit tight an’ I’ll get ya somethin’ lickety split.”

Marble furrowed her brow while Applejack rummaged around the small room. She couldn’t help but feel irritation at being treated like a foal, especially by Applejack; even though she knew her cousin was just being polite, she wanted to prove herself as more than a bumbling oaf. “I can help, you know. I’m usually the one that prepares the food at home. Besides, so far all I’ve done is leech off your hospitality, and I’d like to get the chance to be useful as well.”

Applejack turned around and gave her an appraising look. “Huh,” she muttered, then grinned around the bag of oatmeal gripped in her teeth. “I kinda wish Apple Bloom had more of that attitude. Well, fair enough, how ’bout you lay the table while I get started, then?”

Marble nodded, feeling somewhat mollified. After a moment, the feeling was replaced by one of sheepish embarrassment. “Uh… where do you keep your plates?”

“Oh, they’re in the cupboard there,” Applejack said, gesturing to the one next to the sink. “We’ll be seven. You can use the tray in there to carry the cutlery.”

“Sorry, by the way,” she added as she poured water into the kettle.

Marble glanced up from the plates and cups she was stacking. “What for?”

“Didn’t mean to make ya feel useless. I sure know how much I hate that feelin’. Just didn’t seem very mannered to go askin’ for help.” Applejack gave her a wry smile. “Guess you’re the one that takes care of the food at home, then?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Marble said with a nod. “Blinkie helps as well, though sometimes, she likes to—” She immediately shut her mouth. Her mother had not raised her to be a gossip; talking about her sister behind her back was bad. Very bad.

“Likes to… what?” Applejack asked, tilting her head.

Marble silently cursed her own big mouth. She had already said too much; leaving her cousin dangling now would only make her seem like a giant tease. She took a deep breath, hoping there were no cosmic forces that punished blabbermouths. “Well, sometimes, if Mom and Dad are a bit slow in getting to the table, she’ll sneak in little bites of food before we’re all seated.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow slightly. “That it? Shucks, I’ve done that plenty o’ times, leastways when I was a filly.”

Marble blinked in surprise at this revelation. “What? But it’s… impolite!” she blurted.

“O’course it is,” Applejack said with a smirk. “That don’t mean fillies won’t keep tryin’, though. Seems like every other day I catch ’Bloom tryin’ to pull somethin’ like that.”

“And what do you do then?” Marble asked.

Her cousin shrugged lightly. “I tell her not to do it, o’course. Or at least to try harder at not gettin’ caught if she’s gonna keep doin’ it.”

Marble did not know what to feel. On the one hoof, Applejack had openly admitted that she had been just as brazen as Blinkie in some respects, but on the other, perhaps it was Marble who just was not brazen enough. If every young filly tried that, maybe she should as well?

Applejack turned her attention to a frying pan and a couple of eggs, and Marble took the opportunity to head into the living room with the tray of plates and cups before she could give her cousin the impression that she was just being fastidious.

Making room around the table for seven ponies when it seemed to have been designed with less than that number in mind took a bit of effort, but after a few minutes of moving plates back and forth, it seemed to turn out all right, provided no one was adverse to sitting a little close.

“Table’s all set,” she said as she walked into the kitchen again, putting the tray back into its cupboard.

Applejack looked up from her work at the stove and gave her a bright smile. “Thanks, sugarcube.”

Marble almost dropped the tray. There it was again; that word. “N-no problem,” she replied, doing her best to keep her voice casual.

“I’m gonna need a few more minutes to finish up here. Why don’t you make yerself comfortable meanwhile?” Applejack said, nodding towards a smaller couch near the window.

Settling into the cushioned couch, Marble watched her cousin pour some sort of yellow liquid from a bowl onto the frying pan. It sizzled briefly, then gave off a pleasant smell. “What are you making?” she asked after a moment.

Applejack glanced over her shoulder again. “Pancakes. Can’t have a wholesome meal without ’em.” She scooped up the odd but sweet-smelling food with a spatula. The ‘pancake’ flipped end over end in the air before landing on the frying pan again.

Marble blinked; she had been mesmerised by the little display of food acrobatics. “I, uh… Pancakes?” she mumbled, feeling that familiar flush of embarrassment creep back. “We really just have oatmeal back home. Sometimes a fried egg on Sundays.”

Applejack looked at her in surprise. “You serious?”

Marble nodded mutely.

“Well, we’re gonna have to do somethin’ ’bout that,” her cousin said, beckoning her over. “Scoot on over here an’ I’ll show ya what it’s all about.”

Is there anything I do know? Marble thought glumly as she moved over to the stove.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Applejack said with a friendly smile. “You got the batter here—” she pointed at the bowl with the yellowish liquid “—which is a mix of eggs, milk, sugar, a pinch o’ salt an’ a little somethin’ extra for flavour, like cinnamon or vanilla. Personally, I prefer cinnamon.”

Marble nodded, although she refrained from mentioning that she did not know what cinnamon was, either. She blinked when Applejack thrust the spatula into her hoof.

“So, get some butter on the pan an’ pour a good amount of batter onto it,” her cousin said, looking at her expectantly.

Marble’s eyes darted around until she located the butter—it was right in front of her—and scooped out a chunk, flicking it onto the frying pan where it immediately began to melt and sizzle. She lifted the bowl with batter and poured some of it on the pan, setting it down almost immediately afterwards. Applejack, however, apparently thought the amount insufficient and grabbed the bowl from her, tilting it again and adding another generous helping to the mixture.

“C’mon, Marble, we’re makin’ pancakes here, not paper cakes,” she said with a grin. “It needs some substance!”

Marble bit back the “sorry” that instinctively sprang to her tongue and just nodded again. Almost immediately, the batter on the pan began to stiffen and give off that pleasant aroma.

“My bad, really. I forgot you don’t really know what they’re supposed to look like,” Applejack said with an apologetic smile. “Anyway, here’s the tricky part that separates the pancake newbies from the pancake champions,” she continued, adjusting Marble’s grip on the spatula. Marble tried not to pay too much attention to the way their hooves brushed together. She was reminded of Ebony, the main character of a romance novel Blinkie had smuggled into their room, when she was being taught the graceful steps of a dance by Gallant, her paramour.

This was sort of the same, minus the ‘graceful’ and ‘dance’ parts. And the part about the two characters being romantically involved, of course. So on second thought, it was not like that at all. It was just her receiving a helping hoof from Applejack in learning how to make breakfast.

“You scoop the pancake up like this—” Marble wedged the spatula between the pancake and the pan, guided by Applejack’s hoof “—an’ then you give it a good flip to spin it around an’ catch it again on the pan. Ready? Go!”

In the book, Ebony only needed to be guided through the steps of the dance once by her dashing stallion before she knew the whole thing by heart; as it turned out in the Grand Galloping Gala chapter, the elegant mare had the flair and grace for dancing inside her all along. It just needed a chance to emerge and shine.

No such luck for Marble.

There was a wet splat as the still-liquid side of the pancake impacted with the ceiling and stuck there. Marble felt her cheeks heat up as Applejack burst into laughter, though it was warm rather than mocking, and almost infectious. “It’s not funny!” Marble protested, even as she felt a stupid grin spread over her face and little hiccups of laughter escaped her. Applejack just laughed even harder at that.

It took them several minutes to regain themselves, their laughter feeding off of the other’s mirth and causing it to flare anew just as the other neared the end. It was utterly silly and nonsensical, but neither of them could help it.

“Too much flip?” Marble asked breathlessly when they both eventually calmed down.

Applejack, who was still chuckling, wiped her eye and nodded. “Lil’ bit.”

They went on for almost an hour, perhaps even longer, but under Applejack’s patient tutelage, Marble eventually got a hang of the art of pancake flipping, although she was a far cry from being able to replicate Applejack’s expert triple-flip. By the time they were done, one pancake also decorated the wall in front of them, another had almost landed in the sink at the opposite end of the kitchen, and small bits of batter were sprinkled here and there on almost every surface of the kitchen, though Winona was doing her part in cleaning those up.

“Well, I think the others have been allowed to sleep in long enough as is,” Applejack said as they placed two full plates of lukewarm and stone-cold pancakes on the living room table. “You wanna wake up yer sis an’ her colt? The guest room’s at the far end upstairs.”

Marble nodded and followed her cousin up the stairs, continuing down the hallway when Applejack veered off to one door and began knocking on it.

Wonder what’s keeping them? Marble thought as she headed for the door to the guest room. Usually Blinkie was an early riser like her—a necessary condition when living on the rock farm—so the fact that she had not seen or heard her sister around yet worried her slightly. She hoped she was not about to walk in on her and Flint engaged in fierce and impassioned kissing.

...Again.

She knocked gently on the door and waited a moment to give them ample time to disentangle, then carefully eased the door open and peered inside. To her mild surprise, a light snoring was what greeted her. Both Blinkie and Flint were still sound asleep, but what really troubled her was the fact that they were sleeping in opposite ends of the room. Marble sighed inwardly and her ears drooped a bit; it seemed like Flint had not gotten off without an earful last night.

Marbled walked over to Blinkie’s prone form and prodded her lightly with a hoof. “C’mon, sis. Time to wake up. Breakfast’s ready.”

“Not hungry,” Blinkie grunted, wrapping her blanket more tightly around herself.

“You sure? They have pancakes.”

Blinkie rolled over and looked up at Marble with bleary eyes and a puzzled frown. “What’s a pancake?”

“You’ll have to come see for yourself,” Marble said with a little grin. “But I can tell you it smells delicious. It’s got cinnamon in it, too.”

“What’s cinnamon?”

Marble let out a sigh. “Just get up and come downstairs to eat, please? I’m hungry enough as it is without having to drag you down there by your tail.”

“When did you become so bossy?” her sister grumbled, but to Marble’s relief, she finally stirred. “Just give me a minute. I’ll get him,” she added when Marble glanced over at the still-sleeping Flint.

“See you at the breakfast table, then,” Marble said as she headed out the room, closing the door behind her in case more harsh words towards the stallion were inbound.

By the time Marble came back downstairs, Applejack and her lumbering brother were already seated at the table, the latter busy splashing some sort of amber-coloured ichor over his stack of pancakes. Winona had her snout buried in her food bowl in one corner of the room.

“Any luck?” Applejack asked as she poured herself a cup of what Marble’s nose immediately recognised as divine black coffee.

“They said they’d be down soon.” Marble hesitated for a moment, then took the seat next to Applejack.

The other mare nodded and wordlessly offered Marble a cup of coffee as well, to which she nodded. “Apple Bloom an’ Granny Smith should be down soon as well. They just—Ah, speak o’ the sun.”

A yellow filly with a beet-red mane and an oversized bow on her head trotted down the stairs, stopping at the foot and looking at Marble with surprise and curiosity. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Uh…” Marble replied eloquently, completely wrongfooted by the direct and very simple question.

“Apple Bloom, mind yer manners,” Applejack admonished the filly.

“Sorry,” Apple Bloom mumbled, then cleared her throat, straightened up and flashed a smile at Marble. “Hi there, I’m Apple Bloom. What’s your name?”

Marble gave the filly her best friendly smile. “I’m Marble. I, uhm, I’m your cousin. Very distant cousin. Like Pinkie Pie. You know her, right?” It felt strange talking to a pony younger than herself, particularly one as young as this one. Marble quickly realised she was rather bad at it.

“O’course I know her! Everypony in Ponyville knows Pinkie!” Apple Bloom gave her an appraising look. “Do you throw parties all the time, too?”

“Uh… no?” Marble mentally corrected herself; she was very bad at it.

“Why don’tcha get some grub before ya grill her, eh, ’Bloom?” Applejack said, apparently taking pity on Marble.

The filly pouted briefly before scampering off to fill her plate with food from around the table. Marble let out a little sigh of relief; she did not know what it was about Apple Bloom that made her feel so uncomfortable, but she was glad to be rid of it. Unfortunately, her respite only lasted until the filly sat down next to her.

“What’s your cutie mark mean? Do you know how I could get my cutie mark? Why’re you bein’ all jittery like Fluttershy? Did you really grow up on a rock farm? Does your cutie mark have somethin’ to do with rocks?”

“If she’s bein’ like Fluttershy, it’s probably ’cause yer houndin’ her with questions,” Applejack said with a hint of testiness in her voice. “Simmer down an’ eat yer breakfast. Scoots an’ Sweetie’ve already been by askin’ for ya.”

The last part apparently worked wonders. As if a switch had been flipped, Apple Bloom became silent as she eagerly stuffed her face with her food, seemingly barely taking the time to chew before swallowing. Marble gave Applejack a silent look of gratitude, even as she felt humiliated that she had needed rescuing from a little filly.

“Why’re the pancakes all cold?” Apple Bloom asked in between mouthfuls.

“They would’ve been warm if you’d spent less time snoozin’ an’ instead got up without me havin’ to poke ya with a stick,” the older sister replied. Apple Bloom stuck her tongue out before resuming her feeding frenzy.

A wizened mare with a pale green coat that made her look even more decrepit shambled down the stairs just as Apple Bloom flushed the last of her food down with a glass of juice and leapt out of her seat.

“Hi, Granny! Bye, Granny!” she called in passing before bolting out the door.

The old mare—who Marble could only conclude was Granny Smith—looked at the door which the filly had disappeared through, then turned her head with a creak towards the table and fixed them with a beady eye. “Did any o’ y’all put a beehive on lil’ ’Bloom’s seat or somethin’?” Her voice was not unlike the sound made by a very rusty hinge.

Applejack shook her head. “No, Granny. She’s just gone to look for her friends.”

Granny Smith turned her gaze on Marble while making her way towards the seat next to Big Macintosh. “Have I seen you ’round ’ere before, young missy?” she asked.

“No, Ma’am, I don’t think you have,” Marble said. She could deal with elderly ponies. “I just came here yesterday with my family. My name's Marble. I’m Pinkie Pie’s little sister.”

Understanding lit up in the old mare’s eyes before she turned her head towards her grandchildren with an accusatory glare. “Why didn’t either o’ you two louts mention we was gonna have family come visit? I’d’ve made preparations!”

“I did say we might be gettin’ visitors,” Applejack said in a patient voice. “But I didn’t—”

“Applejack! Didn’t ya say Scoots an’ Sweetie were here?” Apple Bloom called from the doorway, looking at her sister with a frown.

“Yeah, I said they were here. They went to the clubhouse, ’Bloom,” Applejack replied. She turned her attention back to Granny Smith, but the old mare seemed to have forgotten her being upset and was instead busying herself with a cup of tea.

Just then, Blinkie came into the living room, followed closely by Flint. Applejack waved at them with a smile and Big Macintosh gave them a friendly nod.

“Mornin’, you two. Sleep well?” Applejack asked.

Marble looked at her sister closely. Blinkie had a tendency to nourish grudges, but now she seemed almost… relaxed. She was not even glaring daggers at Flint. Marble allowed herself a tentative smile; maybe they had managed to clear the air between them of whatever troubled her sister. The hopeful feeling lasted until Blinkie turned her gaze on Big Macintosh and her eyes lit up with the familiar vindictive gleam Marble knew and dreaded.

“Oh yes, thank you, it was very nice,” Blinkie said with an expression that was nothing but friendly smiles. Flint glanced at her for a moment, but said nothing. Typical, Marble thought.

Granny Smith squinted at Blinkie as she sat down next to Marble. “You Waffle’s sister, young’un?” she asked. “You two look mighty alike.”

Applejack cleared her throat, and Marble glanced at her. For the first time since they had met, her cousin looked decidedly embarrassed. “It’s ‘Marble’, Granny. Not Waffle.”

The elder mare shot her granddaughter a sour look. “That’s what I said! Mah hearin’ ain’t so bad yet that I can’t pick up what other ponies say to me, young missy!”

In her mind, Marble could already hear the relentless teasing from Blinkie that name was likely to saddle her with. Instead, however, her sister simply smiled politely. “Yes, Ma’am. My name’s Blinkie. Your granddaughter invited us to stay.”

Granny Smith turned her gaze to Flint. “An’ what about you, kiddo?”

“Oh, I’m Flint,” he said with his habitual friendly smile. “I’m here with—”

“Big Mac, could you pass me the bread, please?” Blinkie asked in a saccharine voice, leaning forward a bit in her seat and placing her front hooves under her chin.

The larger stallion nodded and passed the bread basket to Blinkie, which she accepted with a smile that was just a little too wide. “Thank you,” she said, “I’m so hungry I feel I could eat a rock.”

“How ‘bout a pancake instead? Tastier’n a rock,” Big Macintosh replied, his expression unchangingly impassive.

“Know that from experience, do you?” Blinkie asked with a little smirk as she held out her plate towards him.

Big Macintosh’s eyes darted around, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “Uhm… Was really hungry this one time after work…” he mumbled, placing a couple of pancakes on the plate.

Blinkie let out a dainty giggle and held a hoof to her mouth. “That’s cute,” she said with a little grin. That elicited a small blush from the stallion. She looked over at Applejack. “Is he always this funny?”

“Oh yeah, he’s a real joker when the mood takes him. Gets all the fillies swoonin’,” Applejack said with a perfectly straight face. “Right, Big Mac?”

Her brother mumbled something inaudible and turned his attention back to his own plate, though he had a tiny sheepish smile on his face.

Blinkie smiled playfully. “I’ll bet…”

Laying it on a little thick there, Blinkie, Marble thought. What exactly are you up to? She glanced at Flint, but he simply smiled good-naturedly, appearing as untroubled by the exchange as he did by practically everything else. He could probably have been seething with jealousy and Marble would not have been able to tell the difference.

The rest of the breakfast proceeded uneventfully, with some light and insubstantial chatter every now and then. Eventually, Granny Smith declared that she was retiring to her rocking chair and Big Macintosh said something about getting started on his chores.

“Y’all wanna head on over to Ponyville an’ have a look around, then?” Applejack asked as she gathered up the plates. “I’d give you a tour o’ the farm, but, y’know…” She nodded towards one of the windows through which practically nothing could be seen except thick fog. “Weather ain’t exactly favourin’ us today, either.”

“If you don’t mind? We didn’t really have a chance to look around much yesterday,” Blinkie said. She looked at Marble. “You coming too, ‘Waffle’?”

Marble hesitated. On one hoof, there had been a lot of things in Ponyville that she wanted to have a closer look at, and it seemed as if they had only seen a fraction of the town to begin with. On the other hoof, Sweet Apple Acres was in its own way just as interesting. She had never been on a genuine apple farm before, let alone knew any of the differences between apple and rock farming.

“Maybe later. I’d like to look around the farm some more first, if that’s okay,” she said, looking at Applejack for confirmation.

Her cousin looked dubious. “You sure? You ain’t gonna be able to see all that much through this dang fog, I’m afraid.”

Marble nodded firmly. “I’m sure. The weather doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna say no if you insist,” Applejack said with a little smile.

Blinkie shrugged. “Suit yourself. We’ll just go get our things and then we’ll be off. C’mon, Flint.”

The stallion dutifully followed Blinkie upstairs without a word of protest. Marble shook her head slightly and began to collect the glasses and cups, heading into the kitchen with them where Applejack was already busy rinsing the used plates.

“I’d tell you that you don’t need to help,” Applejack said with a little grin as Marble placed the glasses next to the sink and instead grabbed a towel. “But I’m startin’ to figure it ain’t much use.”

Marble shrugged lightly and smirked as she grabbed one of the cleaned plates. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it, won’t you?”

Her cousin let out a little chuckle. “Oh no, gettin’ help with the dishes; what am I gonna do?”

Between the two of them, doing the dishes was a cinch, cleaning up the errant pancakes from the cooking lesson less so. Marble was in the middle of scraping dried bits of batter off one of the cupboards when she heard Blinkie and Flint coming back downstairs.

“Uh, actually,” Marble heard Flint say as they came down the stairs, “I need to use the bathroom real quick. Do you mind?”

“I’m not your mother, Flint. You don’t need to ask my permission for that kind of thing,” Blinkie replied with a hint of irritation in her voice.

Marble watched the stallion trot by in the direction of the bathroom, then peered out of the kitchen. Blinkie stood near the front door, tapping her hoof against the floor impatiently. She wore a pair of the sturdy saddlebags they normally used to carry small rocks in.

“I just need a minute. I’ll be right back,” Marble told Applejack. Her cousin nodded in acknowledgement, busy trying to dislodge the pancake from the ceiling.

“Hey, sis, can we talk for a moment?” she asked as she approached Blinkie.

Her sister gave a little shrug. “We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

“Outside?” Marble pressed.

“...All right.”

Stepping out the door was a little unsettling. The thick fog made it difficult to see more than a couple of metres ahead. It reminded Marble of one particularly eerie evening when she had been working late in the south fields. At least Blinkie and her father had been able to locate her eventually by her cries for help before she stumbled into the trench where they turned rocks shards into obsidian.

“Okay, so what is it?” Blinkie asked as she closed the door behind them.

“You tell me. What was that you were doing during breakfast?” Marble replied, unable to keep a tone of accusation out of her voice.

In a strange reversal of the usual roles, it was Blinkie who shied guiltily away from Marble’s stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with an almost complete lack of conviction.

Marble narrowed her eyes. Her sister was barely even attempting to lie. “Is that right? Because it looked to me like you were doing that flirting thing with Big Macintosh.”

Blinkie shot her a resentful glare. “So what if I was? Flint was doing the same with that Rarity filly! I thought I’d let him feel how fun it is to see that.”

“Wait, that’s what this is about?” Marble almost let out an incredulous little laugh. “You’re upset because Flint thought Rarity is pretty? Blinkie, that’s not Flint’s fault. She is pretty!”

“Yeah, I could tell by the way both you and Flint couldn’t take your eyes off her or her pretty little horn,” Blinkie said with a sneer.

Marble felt heat building on her cheeks. Sometimes she wondered if Blinkie realised how vicious her remarks were, or if it was unintentional. Still, two could play at that game. “So Flint isn’t allowed to look at another filly ever again? Were you planning on getting him a proper pair of blinders, or were you just gonna snub him every time another mare showed up?”

Blinkie stared at her silently for a moment, her jaw working furiously but wordlessly in a manner that would have been comical had Marble not been worried her sister might be on the verge of exploding. “I… that… you…” she blurted, before letting out a sigh. “...Maybe you have a point. Perhaps I’m overreacting just a little bit.”

Marble decided to let that particular understatement go without comment. “So… do you actually like Big Macintosh?” she asked instead.

“No!” Blinkie snapped, then softened her voice a bit. “I mean, sure, he looks all right, but come on; he’s our cousin. You don’t think that’d be just a little weird?”

Marble was spared having to reply to that when Flint opened the door and peeked outside. “Oh, there you are,” he said with a smile. “I thought you’d decided to just go on ahead. What’re you doin’ out here?”

Blinkie looked over her shoulder. “Making out. What does it look like?” She gave him a little smile of her own as she walked over to him. “You ready to go, then?”

Flint nodded. “I just talked to Miss Applejack. She says if we go down to the entrance an’ take a left, we’ll come straight back into town if we just follow the road.”

“I could probably have told you that, but… sure. Let’s go, then,” Blinkie said.

The two set off and Marble watched them disappear into the mist. She caught shards of an apology from her sister to Flint and smiled to herself as she went back inside.

It turned out that Applejack was at least as industrious as any of the Pies. In the short time period that Marble had been gone, her cousin had almost managed to get the kitchen back into the same shape as when she had first arrived. The last few remaining bits of batter met their end against a well-used wet dishcloth.

“Sorry I didn’t wait around. I’ll let you take the towels to the laundry basket if ya like, though,” Applejack said with a little grin as Marble walked over to her. “That was a joke, by the way. Basket’s right over there,” she added with a nod towards wicker basket standing next to the kitchen door as Marble held out a hoof.

Marble sheepishly lowered her hoof again. “Oh. Right.” She glanced over her shoulder into the living room, where Granny Smith snored not-so-gently in her rocking chair, then looked back at Applejack. “Hey… do you mind if I ask you something?”

Applejack put the dishcloth aside and looked at her attentively. “Sure, what’s on yer mind?”

Marble hesitated; it felt rude to imply that her cousin was being dishonest, but she had to know. “You... told your sister that other ponies had come by, right?”

Applejack grunted an affirmative while she picked up a pile of dirty rags and brought them over to the hamper.

Marble nervously scuffed a hoof against the floor. “Well... It’s just... nopony came by, or at least... I didn’t see them.”

Her cousin nodded. “You’re right about that. Nopony came by. I made that up.”

Marble had a hard time fathoming something like that. If she ever lied like that, her father would tan her hide for sure. “But... why?” she asked eventually.

“Cause ya looked like ya needed some help,” Applejack said with a shrug. “Besides, I know just how much of a hoof full ’Bloom can be.”

“Won’t that make her angry with you?”

Applejack waved her hoof dismissively. “You let me worry ’bout it. I’m pretty sure I can handle mah lil’ sister, though,” she said with an easy smile. “You just make sure ya got a couple o’ quick answers ready for the next time she shows up, ‘cause I promise, she ain’t just gonna up an’ forget about them questions.”

Marble nodded slightly. “Right.” Somehow she doubted it would be as easy as that to deal with the youngest Apple sibling, but given that Marble’s own experience with little fillies was practically non-existent, she would have to trust Applejack’s expertise on that.

“So, you wanted to have a look around the property?” Applejack asked brightly. “Like I said, probably can’t see a whole lot in this darned fog, but I can show ya a bit o’ the orchard, at least.”

Marble smiled eagerly. “I’d like that. And, uh…” She hesitated a bit, feeling slightly annoyed with herself that she once again had to bare her ignorance to Applejack. “If it isn’t too much of a bother… maybe you could tell me how it all works?”

“You wanna know how to grow apples?” Her cousin looked at her with surprise, but the mocking undertone Marble had feared was absent.

She nodded. “Growing rocks is kind of boring. You usually just rotate them around the fields. Sometimes you simply watch them. I bet fruits are a lot more fun.”

Applejack let out a chuckle and smiled warmly. “Filly, you are in for a treat.”

Comments

[Vates Despero]

Applejack cleared her throat, and Marble glanced at her. For the first time since they had met, her cousin looked decidedly embarrassed. “It’s ‘Marble’, Granny. Not Waffle.”

The elder mare shot her granddaughter a sour look. “That’s what I said! Mah hearin’ ain’t so bad yet that I can’t pick up what other ponies say to me, young missy!”

But Applejack, how is she supposed to know that when you never properly introduced her?
But Granny, nopony told you her name.

[Blue_Paladin42]

Geez... Blondie is not coming off very well, though some of that is probably a result of very poor social contact in her life.

[Misago]

Hm, Marble got over most of her awkwardness a bit faster than I thought she would. Then again, she is currently in the home of the most family-like family that has ever existed, ever.

Eagerly waiting for next week. Our two leads will finally get some alone time.

[Squinty Mudmane]

4221467
Oh, don't you worry. As you said, it's merely because the Apples are, well, the Apples.

4221094
'Blondie' as in Applejack?

4220379
Oops. Now how the heck did I miss the fact that I forgot to add in that small but important detail?

Good catch. Fixed now.

[DragonLady]

Keep up the good work, this story is a hidden gem.

[Blue_Paladin42]

4221550
No. I meant Blinkie. However, I am on my Kindle, and it's autocorrect is a butt trumpet.

[Squinty Mudmane]

4221860
Ah right, that makes more sense.

Yeah, Blinkie's had the same lack of interaction with other ponies as Marble, and on top of that, she's... well, she's got a rather more volatile temper than her sister, let's just say that.

4221737
Thanks! I intend to do just that.

[Loeden]

Aw, no pancake taste reaction-- Still, great chapter! Loving Marble more and more.

Blinkie and Flint are growing on me a bit too-- I wonder if being named after the kind of rock that strikes a spark means there's more to him than his patient, upbeat demeanor.

[Misago]

Hm. I just reread chapter 6, and I retract my objection. Marble is just as awkward as the chapter before.

[Amos Anon]

Big Macintosh’s eyes darted around, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “Uhm… Was really hungry this one time after work…” he mumbled, placing a couple of pancakes on the plate.

Big mac...

Why?