Spilled Ink

by Fiddlove Enfemme

1 - Waking

Darkness.

Swirling, whirling, all-encompassing, darkness.

Everything, and yet nothing.

Something about it felt wrong, like something important was missing and this was what all that was left. A void.

Everything felt wrong.

I opened my eyes.

I was in the forest. Birds were singing. The wind softly rustled the leaves and needles of trees overhead. I, of course, was in a small glade among the trees, lying on my front with my face in the dirt and grass. It must have been about midsummer, maybe even as late as the beginning of fall. The sun warmed my back as I took in my surroundings. Some of the bushes had berries, and most of the spring flowers had disappeared in favour of putting out seed.

Which begged the question; where exactly am I?

I tried to think. What’d I do last night? I couldn’t remember. In fact, I almost couldn’t remember anything. Name, family, home address, place of birth, date of birth, nothing at all. It was all empty, just a swirling, whirling, all-encompassing darkness.

Well, not quite everything. I could think in phrases, talk to myself. I could breathe, I understood basic arithmetic. It was like an archaeologist digging up bones and stones. Only the skeleton of what had been remained, the rest lost forever. Even so, there was nothing to be gained by lying in the dirt and feeling sorry for myself. I was certain everything would return with time.

I stretched a bit and felt my muscles flex. They were a bit stiff, which was what I got for sleeping on the hard ground. Turning my head to look around a bit, I saw my... hooves? With that though my mind began to cloud up, like I was waking up from a dream and the details were fading away. They were my hooves. What else would they be? The longer I tried to think about it the cloudier and darker the fog got. Maybe it was just a migraine, or I’d been out late drinking? Yeah, that had to be it. With that thought the fog began to recede. I rubbed my forehead to try and encourage its departure.

Wait, what was that? An unmistakable protrusion from my forehead. The fog came back near-instantly, slowing every thought to a crawl. No, no, it was just a horn, just my horn. There wasn’t anything wrong, not at all. Even as the fog receded accordingly a nagging doubt remained at the back of my mind. An unfounded doubt, but a doubt nonetheless. I planted my front hooves on the ground to push myself up and suddenly realized I didn’t remember how to walk. One leg went forward, but which leg followed? It wasn't one at the time, as that triggered a rise in the mental fog. Clearly it was best not to think too hard about the mechanics, only about the destination ahead. Get the rhythm, then let it flow subconsciously. With that, it was so much easier. I did a few circles of the glade, trying to practice it and understand. Repetition upon repetition upon repetition until it can be done without thinking.

Once I got the hang of it, it was easy. I took the time to try and collect my thoughts, reconcile the blank spot in my mind with the, well, fragments of thoughts. It really did feel like I’d just woken up from some strange dream. If I tried I could remember some detail, but the nitty-gritty was escaping me, lost in the mysterious fog. If I tried to think about it I became lost in it, mired in it. If I didn't find something else to distract my thoughts then every mental faculty I had would lock up.

None of this mattered, of course, if I were to be eaten by some marauding creature with a taste for horseflesh. Wolves, cougars, oversized fishers, maybe even a bear fresh out of hibernation. The four tenants of survival demanded that I adapt or perish. I needed to find somewhere safe where I could rest when needed, I needed to find out where I was, I needed to find safe drinking water, and I needed to find food. If possible, I would also need to find my way to the closest form of civilization.

Safety was subjective. I could look for a cliff face with a cave, or attempt to construct a shelter under a fallen tree. Without tools I wouldn’t be able to do very much very fast, but a bit of ingenuity and brain-grease would get me situated. Probably the easiest part was figuring out where I was in relation to the constants of the world (Not that it was particularly easy). The sun rose in the east, set in the west, while most types of moss would prefer the shady sides of trees, which could be either north or south according to hemisphere. I could then try to extrapolate from less concrete factors. For example, I’d just woken up, and assuming a relatively normal sleep schedule most folks would wake up before noon. But that wasn't exactly as accurate and surefire as I needed it to be; I could have stayed up late and slept late accordingly.

I figured I'd be best off picking a direction and walking until I found some height. I could just barely see some mountains through the thicker trees. Assuming the sun was still rising and we were in the northern hemisphere, the mountains were north of me. I could also be completely wrong and be looking south as the sun was beginning to set. The mountains, being the only visible landmark aside from trees and grass, were the obvious way to go.

It wasn’t long before I found a hill that was completely clear of trees, with a decent view over the rest of the forest, which dipped down into a sort of valley. It was almost breathtaking. A tranquil little town straddled a meandering river, expanding outward from a large building that resembled some sort of carousel. A massive crystalline tree sprouted on the edge of the town, which had been converted into some sort of palace. If I followed the river, it led to a waterfall coming down from a tall mountain range, where on a steep plateau that ringed the tallest of the mountains rested a magnificent castle town. The southern and eastern edges of the forest were marked by a railroad that cut past the town and spiraled into the distance to some unknown location.

Between myself and the town was a very large apple orchard followed by a stretch of farmland. It wasn’t that far away; I could probably be there within an hour or two. Apples were good, lots of ways to eat apples. Very versatile fruit, easily comparable to the potato in terms of breadth of use. Based on the season, the apples would be in the middle of ripening, and the early bloomers would have fallen for easy pickings. No farmer would miss one or two apples, no matter how diligent and watchful. I happily began my walk in the woods.

On my way there, I realised that there were a few hangups. Firstly, I had no cash. No cash meant I’d be spending the night in the street or back out in these woods. Second, I had no identification. Nothing, not even a name to put down for some sort of loan at whatever sort of bank or credit union there was. Third, I had no idea if I even spoke the same language as the locals. And then there would be the matter of trying to keep myself presentable. Could try to wash myself in the river or in some sort of pond, maybe there was some sort of upscale salon that styled hai- manes. Styled manes. I needed to think carefully, otherwise the fog would come back. Not that I couldn't function while it was there, but it slowed everything down and made me confused.

It seemed much longer than an hour before I found where the forest ended and the orchard began. Scattered around most of the trees were baskets, positioned perfectly to catch the vast majority of falling apples. The trees that didn’t were currently bare of ripened apples. A quick scouting revealed to me a few baskets that had caught a few, which presented a brief but easily solved dilemma. How to eat? I drew a blank on how I could pick it up. So, I just bent down and bit into it like I was bobbing for, well, apples, balancing it on my hoof between bites. A good crisp apple fills the belly nicely, and ignoring the fact that seeds have minuscule amounts of cyanide, I ate the whole core. Except for the stem and applebutt, which I spat out.

My ears perked up as I heard someone holler in the distance. It wasn’t an angry holler, but it was closer than I'd have liked. The last thing that I needed right now was to be discovered by the local farmers on the wrong terms. Trespassing on what I had good reason to believe was private property as an unknown face in town, and then add theft to the mix? If the farmer wasn't friendly, I'd be on the receiving end of what they called “Small Town Justice”. I made a tactical retreat to the orchard outskirts and hid behind a line of bushes. If I was found here, I had an easy run for the treeline.

That proved to be unnecessary. A trio of ponies, one who was large and red who wore a collar, one who was small and yellow, and an orange one with a wide-brimmed hat, were coming out of the main farm building, which seemed to be a barn converted into a homestead. They went out into the orchard, where they went to work giving the trees swift bucks, knocking the vast majority of apples down into the waiting baskets. I would guess that they had just taken a break for lunch and were coming back to the grind. If I concentrated enough I could barely make out their conversation.

“How much longer do you think this’ll take?” asked the small yellow one.

“Well, we got nearly a third th’ order done this mornin’, so if we keep at it til night? It’ll be, say, ‘bout halfway, then the same tomorrow makes it. Maybe two days all told.” said the orange hatted one.

“Eeyup.” affirmed the big red one.

“Ah know you have important Crusader business, but we couldn’t pass up th’ order. If Sweet Apple Acres is going to meet ends this month, we need ta finish it.” the orange one continued.

“Ah know, Applejack, an’ ah’m happy to help out. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo can handle Crusadin’ without me, but inn’t there one uh those “subsidies” we can get or somethin’?” the yellow one said.

The orange one, Applejack, sighed. “No, apparently we “aren’t eligible” because we don’t meet the “volunteer to staff ratio” or some other hooey made-up requirement. Ah think that darn secretary just din’t wanna fill out the paperwork.”

“Eeyup.” affirmed the big red one.

With this knowledge, the apple I’d just eaten sat differently in my stomach.

“Still, that’s a lotta apples in not a lotta time. What’d they even want ‘em for?” the yellow one asked.

“Some fancy party up in Canterlot, the pony in charge of planning it heard we had th’ best apples in Central Equestria.” Applejack shrugged. “Offered us a lotta bits if we could deliver on short notice, an’ said he’d be interested in more negotiations in th' future. If he puts in more orders, ah’d need your help again Apple Bloom.”

“Don’t worry sis, ah’d never let the family down.” the yellow one, Apple Bloom, responded.

This time, the big red one said nothing, but nodded at the two of them with a smile, while the three of them continued to work away.

Even as I watched, my eyes kept getting drawn to the markings on their flanks. Applejack, the orange one, had three red apples arranged in a sideways triangle. The big red one had a green apple with a slice taken out of it. Apple Bloom, the yellow one, had the most elaborate one; a shield in a tricolour of red, pink, and purple, with a purple apple charge, and a pink heart inside of the apple. Clearly, they were all family, but the marks perplexed me. Tattoo? Ritualistic scarring? Heraldry? Something about it caused me to glance at my own flank, expecting it to be bare, but it wasn’t.

On my own flank was what appeared to be a blot of ink. With the colour of my coat, it seemed like a pot of ink spilled on parchment. It clearly wasn’t a tattoo, and it didn’t feel like a scar. Heraldry seemed most likely - a particular design or motif would be retained through family generations with modifications to make sure every living individual in the family had a unique blazon. Sometimes the designs could get rather complex, much like the mark of the youngest farmer, Apple Bloom.

And so, with the knowledge I'd gained, an idea formed in my head. Offer my help as a farmhand in exchange for room and board. Farmers always had room for folks willing to work hard, even if it was only sleeping space in the hay loft. Once I was there I could get my bearings and figure out where the hell I was. Simple enough. This, of course, assumed they'd appreciate the help of some stranger who conveniently showed up on the day they could use it most.

I retreated from the bushes into the treeline, taking care not to be noticed.

---

The sun was now low in the sky, tinting the clouds yellow and orange, and I was walking down what appeared to be the main access road to the farmstead. I'd gone over what I was going to say about a hundred times and it felt awkward.

Maybe I was overthinking it.

The orange one, Applejack, looked to be finishing something up in the farmyard. The other two were elsewhere, possibly inside the house. The fence that ringed the yard was simple, poles with three braces between them, tall enough that it reached my chin. Above the wide gate a sign announced the property as "Sweet Apple Acres". The gate was open, but I nervously decided to stop at it in case I wasn't welcome. I almost quivered with anticipation.

It took her a minute to notice me, but when she did she trotted over curiously. "Well, howdy stranger! I'm Applejack, what can ah do ya for?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, I don't suppose you're in charge of this place?" I said, almost stumbling over my own words.

"In a way; Sweet Apple Acres is family owned. Ah do most of th' work along with my brother Big McIntosh, but Applebloom is a big help too."

"I don't suppose you have a spare room?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck. "I don't have much in the way of cash right now, but I can do whatever work you give me."

"Ah don't see why not, we never turn down a helping hoof." Applejack nodded.

Her acceptance took me by surprise. "You sure?"

"Surer than wings on a pegasus. Know anything about applebucking?"

"Kick the tree, apples fall. There's probably some technique to it, right?" I said.

"Well, you need ta judge the apples in th' tree and where they'll fall, then give it a swift buck to drop them into the baskets. Big Mac an' ah can do it pretty well in one go, but somepony like yourself would need practice." she explained.

"I'll give it a go, but there's probably other things I do. Is there anything you need help with right now?"

Applejack thought for a moment, then waved me into the yard. "Got the last of my chores to do before nightfall. May as well see what you can do, what's your name again?"

The question took me by surprise. I didn't know my name, and thinking about it too hard made the white noise rise. I could make something up, I could be whoever I wanted to be. But it had to be believable. The names in this family were related to the heraldic marks on their flanks, and that line of thinking meant my name should be related to my mark.

"Ink Blot," I said after a pause. "My name's Ink Blot."

Ink Blot. Ink Blot. It did seem a little too literal, but I didn't have the time to wax poetic and give myself something more grand.

"Well Ink Blot, ah hope you're ready to get working!" Applejack said cheerfully.

The work itself wasn't particularly difficult on its own, just much quicker with two working at it rather than one. The fields had to be irrigated, which involved opening valves throughout the system to ensure each area got properly watered. Baskets had to be moved here and there, filled ones back to the yard for packaging and empty ones out in the orchard to be filled in the morning. After that, there was the matter of giving the pigs and chickens their evening meals, collecting the chicken eggs too.

"That wasn't too bad." I commented as we were finishing up. The sun was just breaching the horizon.

"Normally ah get it all done in th' morning, but there's a lotta applebucking we're gonna havta do for a while, which you'll be helping out with tomorrow." she replied.

I nodded. "Speaking of, could you show me to that spare room? I'd prefer to be settled sooner rather than later, given tomorrow's work."

"Just hold on now, ah'll show you up after you meet th' rest of the family." Applejack smiled.

"Is your family big?" I asked.

"Th' Apple Family has branches all over Equestria, coast to coast and north to south, and we all meet back here for the Family Reunion every 100 moons," she chuckled, "Course, it's just th' five of us here any other time."

"All over Equestria, huh? Couldn't get away from them if you wanted to." I commented.

I couldn't help but wonder what that was like. Having a family, a real one. Did I have one? Did I ever have one? The fog overtook my thoughts and a tide of confused emotions began to fill me. I was dazed and lost in a land I didn't recognize. It was wrong, everything was wrong. I didn't belong here. I needed to run, I needed to escape.

"Ink Blot?"

The question cut through the fog like a blinding light and I jerked my head up. "Huh?"

'Ah asked you where you're from," Applejack seemed concerned. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"It's alright. Just a question I'm not used to answering." I replied. A question I had no way of answering.

"Then let's head in, Big Mac and Sugar Belle should be just about finished cookin'."

"Don't worry, I, uh, ate earlier." I said.

"Either way, you can come in and meet everypony, and Sugar Belle's a great cook. One whiff and you'll be hooked!" Applejack encouraged me.

I nodded and gave her a little smile as she led me inside. They said the only thing better than your own cooking was someone else's, and I wasn't that good of a cook myself.

The Apple Family Homestead was the very model of a quaint country home, the old kind with timber framing. Skillfully made wooden furniture, lovingly sewn quilts and pillows and cushions. You could tell what was new and what was old, but none of it clashed, as it was all unified by the apple motif. Red, yellow, green, it was everywhere. I especially appreciated the ones carved into the furniture itself. The layout was rather open, the main room being both the kitchen and dining room with a counter extending from the wall between them. The dinner table was circular with six place settings already laid out, but if the family was as large as they said there would be enough spare tables and chairs to fill up the whole house.

Even as I felt a stranger here I couldn't help but feel nostalgia for a forgotten childhood. Time spent with family when I was young, playing with siblings and cousins as I waited for supper to begin, the whole family gathered around to celebrate. Days of innocence and happiness those were. Even though the memories were gone, simply being here brought back wisps and ghosts of them.

"Guess what, y'all! We've got one more at the table tonight!" Applejack hollered.

There was a bit of a clattering in the kitchen and a unicorn's head poked out "Oh, that's lovely! Good thing we made extra," said she, "And it's just about ready to eat!" Her purple curls disappeared into the kitchen once more, and a few dishes floated out. A plate of corn on the cob, a bowl of chopped carrots, a salad with a variety of greens, and what looked to be a beetroot based soup.

"Come and get it!" said the pink and purple unicorn in the kitchen, ringing a cowbell to signal the rest of the house. The red pony, who I assumed was Big MacIntosh , came out of the kitchen at the side of the unicorn. The eager clattering of hooves from upstairs preceded the young yellow one, Apple Bloom, and from the sitting room a much older green-coated grey-maned mare moved with the careful steps of an elder plagued by aches and pains.

"Everypony, meet Ink Blot. He's looking for a place to stay tonight in exchange for helping out around the farm tomorrow. He's already helped me out with some of th' chores, and so far he's a good worker." Applejack introduced me to the gathered family. I was impressed that she already had such a high opinion of me despite only having met an hour or two ago.

"Well howdy, Ink Blot! I'm Sugar Belle and this is Big Mac." said the unicorn, Sugar Belle.

"Eeyup." affirmed Big Mac.

"This is my lil' sis, Apple Bloom." Applejack said.

"Nice to meetchya, mister!" Apple Bloom smiled.

"And this is Granny Smith. she's, well, our granny."

Granny Smith smiled as well. "Happy to have ye, er, Ink Blot."

They were all so... nice. I'd been half expecting a warm welcome, but not a welcome as warm as this. "'Thank you, everybody. It's nice of you to let me stay, I hope I'm not intruding any." I replied to them nervously.

"Nonsense!" Granny dismissed my fears. "We Apples lend a helping hoof to anypony who comes to us for help, if they be willing to help us in return"

"Eeyup." affirmed Big Mac.

The food was passed around the table, with everyone dishing out a portion to themselves. The corn cobs were drizzled with butter and seasoned with salt and pepper, the carrots had been done in a honey glaze, and the salad had a nice wild raspberry vinaigrette dressing. It was all home made, made fresh, with none of that chemical taste commercial foods tended to pick up. Something in the way the natural tastes blended made it so much better.

"You two did a great job on the food." I commented to Sugar Belle and Big Mac, who were sitting beside each other.

"Oh, thank you! It was mostly Big Mac, though. He's got quite the knack for putting together a meal." Sugar Belle responded. It was hard to tell, but Big Mac blushed a bit.

"Yep, you two make quite the team." said Applejack.

As I worked my way along the cob of corn I held between my hooves, Apple Bloom spoke up. "So Ink Blot, what brings you round these here parts?"

"Travel, mostly. I'd also been thinking of settling somewhere and finding a place, but these days I'm a bit strapped for cash." I said to her. While not entirely true to my circumstances, it was true to how I felt.

"Ponyville's a great place to live. I used to live in a village up north east a-ways, and even though it has the nicest people it could be just a little bit dreary. Around here it's so vibrant, and everyone's friendly. And the School of Friendship is just outside of town!" Sugar Belle said emphatically. "It's the perfect place for a family."

"How's the housing like? Is it expensive?"

"Most folks buy the land and build ta suit. It's not expensive, but there's all sorts of rules and regulations ta preserve the natural beauty. Ah'm sure there's also a few ponies rentin' too." Applejack explained.

I nodded. "I'll look into that once I've got myself squared away."

Following the main meal was a surprise treat. Freshly baked apple cobbler, with cinnamon and ice cream on the side. "It's a new take on an Apple Family classic!" Sugar Belle winked as she dished it out.

It was extraordinary. Somehow they'd gotten the perfect amount of sugar to balance the natural tartness of the apples they'd picked for it, with the cinnamon giving it the extra edge over. The crust wasn't overly crunchy like some people would do, but the outside was crisp and the inside was chewy. The ice cream was a fairly standard vanilla, but it didn't need more than that to provide the cobbler's contrast. Overall, it was the second best cobbler I'd ever eaten.

Second best? Then what was the first? Something clicked. It had peaches in it. It was made by someone very near and dear to my heart. It was something I'd eaten very often in my childhood. I could remember it! But, just as quickly as the clouds had parted they closed shut once again and shrouded my memories. Trying to think on it more would cause me to get lost in the fog again, so instead I latched onto what little I'd managed to remember.

"This is some good cobbler. It reminds me of better times." I smiled.

"It's the first time I've made it, I'm glad it turned out so good." Sugar Belle replied happily.

"Eeyup." agreed Big Mac. He may have been big, but he wasn't a big talker.

"If everyone's done, let me help with the dishes." I offered.

The dishes were a cinch, with 5 people to tackle it. two cleaners, a rinser, and two driers who put the dishes away. Granny Smith was exempt on account of her age, though I'm certain that if she wanted to she could have done everything by herself. She retired to her rocking chair in the sitting room where she'd been earlier, while Apple Bloom went back upstairs to her room to work on whatever she'd been doing before. Sugar Belle and Big Mac simply cuddled together on the couch in the sitting room, leaving Applejack to show me to the guest room.

"Well, here it is. Ah'd help you unpack but..." she trailed off.

"Thank you." I said.

The room was rather homely, and the furniture had the same stylings as the rest of the house. A double sized bed on an apple green lacquered frame sat in the middle, with an area rug that alternated red and white circles. Along the walls were shelves and drawers done in a similar green lacquer, as well as a clothes closet. The wall itself was papered with an off-white eggshell colour, on which rosebushes spiraled upwards from the floor.

"Can ah get you anythin' to make it more comfortable?" Applejack asked.

"No thank you, I'll be fine." I said.

"Well, ah'll be downstairs if you need anythin'. Ah'll also wake you up in the morning when we're gonna get to work again." she said.

And so I was left to myself for the night.

Author's Note:

Comments

[Arn]

How long do you think you can keep a human at bay with white noise?

Humans...they believe memories are propriety, if he should have a heart memory like that again, well, humans pick at things."No! This is mine!" he will say and he'll pull and pull and pull at it, until you break him.In the right mood Ink Blot will keep at till he is screaming.

I realize that breaking ponies is a common thing, but he isn't that kind of pony and a thing with a mind shouldn't have that done.

But...this isn't a horror story so I look forward to how you put it together.