The Cutie Mark Crusaders discover a horseradish. Hi-jinks ensue.
Equestria contains many plants valuable for performing alchemy. None is more rare, dangerous, or valuable than the horseradish, the pony equivalent of a mandrake. All botanists agree, though, that they have been extinct for centuries.
Or that was the case until Applebloom discovered one growing in an unusued part of Sweet Apple Acres...
The smell of apples was intense. At Sweet Apple Acres, of course, the smell of apples was always intense. Every second of every day. Applebloom- -who herself smelled strongly of apples of various types, possibly for genetic reasons- -hardly noticed, though, as she rushed across the lumpy and perfectly fertilized soil through the looming fruit-laden trees.
She stopped and turned back behind her. “Come on!” she said, “we’re almost there!”
“Almost where?” replied Sweetie Belle, clearly not nearly as enthused as her more outdoorsy friend. She looked nervously at the trees, taking note of the fact that they were far taller and far less maintained than the rest of the trees- -most of whom were named, at least by Applejack- -that covered seemingly endless hills on Applebloom’s family farm. “Isn’t this the vampire fruit bat section?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So,” said Sweetie Belle, “I’d rather not get my mane fertilized! And look what they’re doing to Scootaloo?”
They both turned to see a group of wizened bats lifting Scootaloo into the air, struggling to pull her back into the trees.
“Get off!” cried Applebloom, waving at the bats. “Scootaloo is not fruit!”
Scootaloo cried out as she was dropped from several meters over the soil. Despite the audible buzzing of her tiny, atrophied, useless wings, she plummeted with great speed and struck the grassy soil with a thump.
“Aww,” she said, standing up. At this point, she was mostly impervious to pain from having experienced it so many times in her filly life. “Why’d you have to do that? They were going to suck my juices out!”
“And you would want that?” asked Sweetie Belle, raising an eyebrow.
Scootaloo actually had to think about it for a moment. Even then, though, she seemed unsure. “No?”
“They weren’t going to suck your juices,” sighed Applebloom. “That happens sometimes. Big Macintosh’s gotten his rump bitten, like, fifty seven times. He’s too big to carry off, though, unless there’s a whole lot of bats. And that’s only happened twice.”
“At least you got to, you know, fly,” said Sweetie Belle. “Because, you know, you can’t normally do that.”
“I know, Sweetie Belle,” said Scootaloo. “I am acutely aware of that fact.”
“Did you two drink molasses for breakfast or something?” said Applebloom, turning around.
“No,” said Scootaloo.
“Yes,” said Sweetie Belle, simultaneously.
“Because you’re both so slow! Also, Sweetie Belle, that’s going to make you as fat as Celestia if you keep that up. But come ON! It’s not much farther!”
She started running again, and Scootaloo followed at the same speed. Sweetie Belle, who was the least physically fit of the three- -in part because of a habit of drinking molasses- -followed slowly. That was, at least, until she saw the numerous beady little eyes staring down at her. She then cried out and started running as she was struck by a barrage of apple seeds.
“I don’t like vampires!” she cried, sprinting until she eventually tripped over Scootaloo and collapsed into a heap in a clearing.
“Oh, Sweetie Belle!” cried Scootaloo. “So this is why you wanted to come out here with us!”
“Eew. No,” said Sweetie Belle, blushing and standing up before helping her friend back on her hooves.
They then both looked around. The apple trees had given way to a round, grassy area. It was sunnier than under the trees, but the canopy still left it mostly quite dark and peaceful.
There was also clear evidence that Applebloom had been here before. Several gardening tools were leaning on one of the trees next to a small box of plant fertilizer, chemicals, and a watering can. Applebloom picked up the latter object, the can, and took it over to one particular plant in the center of the field, looking rather proud as she did so.
The plant itself was somewhat generic, a set of rough leathery leaves that protruded from the top of a root buried deep in the ground. It did not look like anything special, but it did appear that it had been well fertilized and lovingly maintained, whatever it was.
“And I think you brought us out here for…a plant?”
Applebloom gasped as though she was offended. “A PLANT? Just a PLANT? Sweetie Belle, do you even know what this is?”
“A plant. We’ve established it.”
“This is a…” she paused, and looked around as though somepony where listening. Then she leaned in close to Sweetie Belle and to a lesser extent Scootaloo. “It’s a HORSERADISH.”
Sweetie Belle stared at her friend. “Really?”
“Really!”
“I was joking. Come on, Applebloom! Horseradish is a myth! We’re grown fillies! We’re too old to believe in fairytales!”
“So then why have I been watering for the last three weeks, hmm?” said Applebloom, as if that proved that it was one of the mythical alchemical roots.
“You’ve been watering a weed!” retorted Sweetie Belle, exasperated.
“Just like Tree Hugger!” said Scootaloo, excited that she was able to contribute to the conversation. Both Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked at her. “What?” said Scootaloo. “You know, Fluttershy’s friend. She’s always talking about watering her weed.”
The two stared at Scootaloo for a moment before deciding to ignore what she had said, as per usual. “Right,” said Sweetie Belle. “I don’t mean to be mean, Applebloom. But horseradishes just aren’t real. They’re a legend. Like chupacabras, or supply-side economics.”
“You shut your dirty horse mouth!” cried Applebloom. “Chupacabras ARE real! My brother got sucked by one once!”
“I’m sure he did,” said Sweetie Belle, rolling her eyes.
“It IS a horseradish!” said Applebloom. “I’ve cross referenced every part of it with Granny Smith’s stories!”
“And has Granny Smith ever SEEN a horseradish?”
“Well…no…but she once knew a handsome stallion who- -”
“Applebloom, I don’t want to hear about that!”
“Why are we arguing?” asked Scootaloo, walking toward the plant. “Let’s just pull it up and see!”
She grasped the stalk of the plant with her teeth, and Sweetie Belle’s eyes went wide. “NO!” she cried, firing a bolt of magic from her nubby little horn. The blast hit Scootaloo in the side with enough force to knock her prone.
“Gah! Scootabuse! SCOOTABUSE!” cried Scootaloo.
“Sweetie Belle!” cried Applebloom, a look of shock on her face.
“If you pull it up and it IS a horseradish and it screams- -”
“Wait, I thought you said horseradishes weren’t even real!”
“They aren’t,” said Sweetie Belle, “I told you, they’re a legend. But I know the legends. I read it in books. If you pull up a horseradish and it screams, you’ll…well…”
“What?”
“Get the dead.”
The three fillies stood in silence for a moment, contemplating how close they had just come to bringing the Cutie Mark Crusaders to an untimely and inglorious end.
“Well,” said Applebloom at last, “did you’re fancy books tell you any way to get it up without…you know…that sort of thing happening?”
It did not take long to gather the necessary materials, or the necessary books. Applebloom seemed quite intrigued by the whole process, and Sweetie Belle had nothing better to do. Scootaloo, being Scootaloo, definitely had nothing better to do.
The whole setup took about an hour. Sweetie Belle examined her book- -“Arcane Alchemy & Demonic Summoning for Little Fillies”- -and confirmed that the picture matched their setup.
“Alright,” she said, pointing. “So, we tie the horseradish to a rope, like that.”
“Yeah,” said Applebloom, having already done that.
“And the other end to a dog.”
Both of them looked at Winona, Applebloom’s dog, who was smiling and panting, glad to be given some kind of attention. She had been tied to the far end of the rope.
“So then we go over there,” said Sweetie Belle. “And you call Winona. When she runs toward you, the rope will pull out the horseradish. But since we’ll be over there, we’ll be too far to hear the scream.”
“Okay…and dogs are immune to it, I guess?”
Sweetie Belle’s face scrunched. “Sure…” She lifted the book, showing Applebloom the medieval illumination that showed a poorly drawn version of what they were about to do. “See? Everything’s just like it is in the book!”
“Well…okay…”
Sweetie Belle led her friend to the treeline, and they hid behind a large apple tree. Applebloom told Winona to stay, but when she got behind the tree, she began to look around.
“Where’s Scootaloo?” she said.
“I think she got carried off by vampire fruit bats,” said Sweetie Belle dismissively.
Almost on cue, Scootaloo dropped out of the tree and hit the ground with a painful sounding thud. She landed directly on her wings, but they were so small that they remained uninjured.
“They didn’t want me,” sighed Scootaloo.
“So what else is new?” Sweetie Belle turned to Applebloom. “Okay Applebloom. Call Winona.”
“Alright,” replied Applebloom, sounding hesitant. She turned to Winona. “Winona! Come here, girl! Come here!”
Winona’s ears priced, and she smiled even wider. She came bounding toward Applebloom, happy and oblivious. Then, suddenly, the rope went taught.
“YEEP!” cried Winona, a look of betrayal and confusion crossing her face as she was pulled back by the rope and onto her back.
“Winona!” cried Applebloom, racing to her dog’s side.
“Darn it,” said Sweetie Belle, looking at the plant that Winona was attached to. It remained firmly imbedded in the ground. “It didn’t come up! The thing must be huge...” she turned to Applebloom. “I guess we’re going to have to try again.”
“Luna’s dysplastic hips you’re going to try again!” swore Applebloom. She cradled Winona in her forelegs. “Look what you did to poor Winona! You choked my dog!”
“I didn’t mean to!” protested Sweetie Belle.
“It doesn’t matter if you wanted to or not! Look how sad she looks now!”
Sweetie Belle looked and Winona did, in fact, appear quite sad.
“Hmm…maybe if we tried Scootaloo instead? She’s marginally bigger than Winona.”
“We’re not choking Scootaloo!”
Sweetie Belle sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Can you imagine what Rarity would say if she found out I was out here in the orchard choking the Scootaloo with another filly?”
“That’s not what I mean! I’ve spent the entire last month caring for that horseradish, and I don’t want you to damage it! I mean, look at it!” Applebloom pointed at the large hole in the ground in the center of the clearing. Then, slowly, both she, Sweetie Belle, and Winona turned slowly toward where there should have been a plant. The rope sat by its side, slack and untied.
“Sweetie Belle?” said Applebloom.
“Yeah?” said Sweetie Belle.
“Where’s the horseradish? It’s supposed to be there, right?”
“Yeah…”
They both slowly turned to where Scootaloo was standing. Scootaloo looked at them, smiling at first but quickly becoming confused as to why they were looking at her.
“What?” she said.
The answer became apparent, though, when she realized that they were not looking at her, but rather behind her. Scootaloo froze, feeling her wings become surprisingly erect from fear. She turned slowly.
When she saw it, Scootaloo paused for just a moment before screaming. Her scream triggered Sweetie Belle and Applebloom to scream as well. The horseradish was no longer in the ground. Instead, it was behind Scootaloo.
It was a terrifying creature, covered in dirt and brown skin reminiscent of that of a potato. Just as the legends said, it was shaped roughly like a pony, and it stood on four legs, the same that it had apparently used to pull itself out of the ground when it had been disturbed by Winona’s pulling. Despite the difficultly in removing it, though, it was not any larger than Scootaloo.
The root stared at Scootaloo, clearly confused. It had eyes, but they were not exactly like those of a pony, as if a pony’s eyes had been crossed with those of a potato. Likewise, instead of a mane it had the green portion of the plant emerging from the top of its head.
Scootaloo immediately shoved it hard, pushing it onto its side. She and the others- -including Winona- -then ran to the trees, where they hid behind them. Despite being in a panic, none of them seemed able to flee. All of them were too curious, and they peered around the trees toward the abomination behind them.
Each of them was expecting a lethal scream to emanate from it, but none came. Instead, it just lay on its side, sometimes weakly kicking its tuberous legs. It was apparently unable to right itself, and was having considerable difficulty moving back to a standing position despite its extremely patient attempts.
“It- -it’s moving,” said Sweetie Belle, now in a complete panic. “It- -it’s MOVING! Sweet alicorn clippings, it’s REAL!”
“No road apples,” swore Scootaloo in return. She grimaced. “I- -I actually touched it! It was so dirty!”
Applebloom did not speak, but stared at it, not in panic but in intense thought. Then she stepped out of the treeline.
“Applebloom!” hissed Sweetie Belle. “What are you doing?! Get back here!”
“He’s tipped over,” said Applebloom. “He needs help.”
“It’s not a ‘he’! It’s a ROOT!”
“But look at him! He looks so pitiful! And it’s not like he tried to hurt us.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure I believe that,” said Scootaloo.
“Well, I do.” Applebloom approached the root, and then paused for a moment before reaching down and righting it. The horseradish seemed momentarily confused, and it looked around. When it saw Applebloom, though, it took a step forward.
Sweetie Belle reactively charged her horn, preparing a mashing spell. She leveled her head at the plant, but Applebloom cried out.
“Stop!” she cried. “It’s alright!”
Sweetie Belle doubted that, but she trusted her friend and held her fire. She watched as rather than attacking, the horseradish lurched forward and hugged Applebloom.
“Aww,” said Applebloom. “He has the hugs!”
“Hugs?” said Sweetie Belle, confused. The book did not have any information on the behavior of horseradishes- -just recipes- -but hugging was not what she had expected from a tuber.
“I want hugs!” said Scootaloo, stepping forward.
The horseradish looked at her, and its eyes narrowed. It glared, and then shifted Applebloom as though it were protecting her.
“What?” said Scootaloo, looking deeply hurt.
“I don’t think he likes you,” said Applebloom. “You did push him over, after all.”
“But then why does it like you?” said Sweetie Belle, stepping forward with Winona.
“I guess it’s because I’ve been taking care of him since he was just a little seedling.” Applebloom gasped. “Does this mean I’m a mom now? I didn’t expect that to happen for at least another three years!”
The horseradish looked at Sweetie Belle, and then at Scootaloo. “It’s okay,” said Applebloom. “They’re friends. Do you know what friends are?”
The root looked at her, confused and blank.
“It doesn’t have a brain,” said Sweetie Belle. “It’s a plant.”
It did seem to understand, though. It released Applebloom and stood in place. It’s reaction toward Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had changed from distrustful to purely neutral. The group stared at it for a moment, and it stared at them.
“This…this isn’t possible,” said Sweetie Belle, shaking her head. She picked up her book from where she threw it down. “Then…then does that mean this is all true? All the alchemy, all the stories…” She looked to Applebloom. “Is that why you grew him? For your potions?”
“Potions? No, of course not! Why would you even say that?”
“Because it says here that you can do some really cool stuff with them.”
“No! I helped him because he was so little and weak when I found him, and as an Apple, I can’t turn my back on a plant in need!” She paused. “Unless it’s a pear. You can’t trust a pear. It’s like the communist version of an apple.” She pointed at the horseradish. “And I believe it is apparent that he is not a pear.”
“It isn’t a ‘he’. It’s a plant.”
“No, he’s a HE!”
“I’ll check! I know what to look for!” said Scootaloo, bounding toward the horseradish. It watched her, slowly turning its head as she went by. Scootaloo then paused near its rear half and lifted one of its legs. It shifted its balance, allowing her to move its limb, and Applebloom and Sweetie Belle both immediately blushed.
“SCOOTALOO!” cried Sweetie Belle. “What are you doing?!”
“I’m checking for the root,” said Scootaloo. In her naïveté, she did not know why they were reacting the way they were.
“Scootaloo, he’s ALL root,” said Applebloom.
“Oh,” said Scootaloo. She stared for a second, and then stepped back. The hoseradish held its leg in an upright position until Scootaloo eventually decided to put it back down. “Well, can you blame a filly for checking?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s a felony of some sort.”
“Oh please. I’m Scootaloo. I’ve committed, like, seven felonies since I woke up this morning.”
“And how many of them were child endangerment?” asked Sweetie Belle. “With the child being you?”
Scootaloo’s expression fell. “All of them…”
“Scoots, you’re depressing me,” said Applebloom. “And I think you’re depressing the horseradish. Happy thoughts make happy apples. And happy thoughts make…horsier horseradish?”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” said Sweetie Belle, standing beside Scootaloo and admiring the horseradish. It did look back at her, and, strangely, it appeared to have no mouth. “This is fascinating. Gross in a way, but fascinating.” She took a deep breath and then jumped back. “Oh, wow! He smells!”
“I noticed that,” said Applebloom. “Kind of like what Granny Smith smells like when she falls asleep in the root cellar for a few days. I don’t think it’s bad, though.”
“I like them spicy,” said Scootaloo, smiling with a strange grin.
Getting the horseradish out of the ground had been difficult. Getting it to go back in, though, was quite impossible. Applebloom attempted several times to push it back into the hole, and each time it would simply climb back out. She tried begging it, pleading with it, threatening it, and even bribing it, but it did not respond with anything more than a curious stare.
Exasperated, the Cutie Mark Crusaders eventually just left through the orchard. The horseradish, of course, followed them. Sweetie Belle found this mildly unnerving, but Applebloom was secretly pleased. Scootaloo actually did not notice it until they were already almost back at the farmhouse, as she had become preoccupied with not being stolen aloft by vampire fruit bats.
By the time they reached the farmhouse, Sweetie Belle was most of the way through a rather edifying tome about horseradishes. She suddenly stopped, though, when she turned to a particularly clear passage.
“Um, Applebloom?” she said, nervously.
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t good. We need to go back. Right now.”
“But we just got here,” said Scootaloo. “I barely made it out of there alive!”
Ignoring Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle continued. “We need to go back there right now, and put this thing back in the ground where it came from.”
“We already tried that. Besides, he’s pretty cool. I mean, I grew him. Myself. I grew a pony. In the ground. I’m awesome!”
“It’s not a pony, it’s a type of large radish.”
“So? Just wait until I show Applejack! She’ll be so proud!”
“Applebloom, you do NOT want to show this thing to your family.”
“Why…” Applebloom’s eyes suddenly widened as she seemed to realize what Sweetie Belle was implying. “Holy Inverted Luna!” She cried. “I didn’t think of that! He- -he’s- -”
“Dangerous?” said Scootaloo.
“Illegal,” suggested Sweetie Belle, holding up her book.
“Not an apple!” cried Applebloom. She began to shiver violently. “If they find out- -if they find out I grew a crop that’s not an apple? They’ll- -they’ll put me in the root cellar again! I don’t want to be locked down there, not again! It’s so cold, and it makes me smell like…well…him.” She pointed at the horseradish, who was watching the conversation silently. It was unlikely that, as a root, he understood anything that was going on.
“Being locked in the root cellar is the least of your problems!” cried Sweetie Belle.
“Easy for you to say! Rarity only locks you in a nice warm closet full of fancy clothes!”
“It’s still no fun,” said Sweetie Belle. “Being in the closet makes me feel like Scootaloo! But that’s not the point!” She held the book closer to Applebloom’s face. “This is a list of ultra-super-secret-double-illegal plants in Equestria! Read what’s on it!”
Applebloom’s eyes scanned the page. “Let’s see…Lophophora, Erythroxylum, Swainsona, Ponidragora…” Applebloom’s eyes suddenly widened and she looked up at Sweetie Belle. “Ponidragora? That’s horseradish!”
“I know! If we get caught with this thing, we’ll get thrown in the royal dungeon for sure!” She shivered. “And- -and they’ll use the rack on us! I’m sure they will!”
“Not the rack!” cried Applebloom.
“Wait a minute,” said Scootaloo. “Does Twilight even have a filly-sized rack?”
“I assure you,” said Sweetie Belle. “I’ve spent enough time around Twilight to know that her rack is indeed filly-sized.”
“That’s unfortunate,” said Applebloom. “But I guess we can’t all be Fluttershy.”
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo both looked at Applebloom with the same expression as the horseradish.
“So,” said Sweetie Belle, regaining her train of thought, “we have to put him in a hole!”
“No!” cried Applebloom, tightly hugging her plant. It tipped slightly and awkwardly, but seemed pleased and jerkily attempted to hug back. “You can’t hurt him! He didn’t do anything wrong!”
Sweetie Belle sighed. “I meant planting him again.”
“But he won’t go!”
“Applebloom, do you have any idea why he might be following us?”
“Well…” Applebloom looked at the root. “Hmm…” A look of epiphany came over her face. “The soil! It must be the soil! It isn’t rich enough! That’s why he’s so small!”
“Then where can we put him? Where can we find soil that rich?”
“Not here,” said Applebloom. “It’s all made for apples. I need…time. Yeah.” She turned to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. “I can make that kind of dirt, but it’s not easy. It will take me time.”
“So what do we do until then?” asked Scootaloo.
“We can’t let him wander around,” said Applebloom.
“I agree,” said Sweetie Belle. “If ponies see a horseradish, they’ll panic. Then they’ll find us, and Twilight will make us all a lot taller.”
“I want to be taller!” said Scootaloo excitedly. “And can she make my wings bigger?”
“I think that’s Rainbow Dash’s job. But we need to focus on hiding the plant right now.”
“We can stash him in my room,” said Applebloom. “Applejack doesn’t look too close in there anymore ever since she found ‘apples’ the last time.”
“But he’ll track mud. He’s so dirty!”
“He sure is,” giggled Scootaloo, poking the horseradish’s flank.
“Hold on,” said Sweetie Belle, picking up a garden hose. “Let’s just spray him off- -”
“NO!” cried Applebloom, slapping the hose out of Sweetie Belle’s magic.
“Ow!” cried Sweetie Belle, even she had not been holding the hose with any part of her body. “What did you do that for?”
“That’s COLD water! Would I spray YOU with cold water?”
“You spray me with cold water when I get dirty,” said Scootaloo. She paused. “And I get dirty a lot…”
“Well you can’t develop root rot! He can only be bathed in LUKE WARM water, or water that is slightly warm!”
“Applebloom- -”
“We’ll take him into the house dirty. We’re on a far anyway, it’s not like anypony will notice.”
Before Sweetie Belle could stop her, Applebloom took the horseradish by the hoof- -or whatever it had instead of hooves- -and led it into her house.
Sweetie Belle groaned. “Why is she so stubborn?” she said to Scootaloo.
“Rainbow Dash says it’s because earth-ponies are butthurt that they’re basically donkeys with cutie marks. Or something like that, I don’t know, I’m a bad listener.”
“Thanks, Scootaloo,” said Sweetie Belle as sarcastically as possible.
“Your welcome.”
Not wanting to let Applebloom get caught, they both followed her into the house. Like the rest of the farm, it smelled strongly of apples, especially since the back door entered into the dining room. Both Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were both fans of it, Sweetie Belle for his appreciation for rustic architecture and design and Scootaloo because it was an actual house.
“Has somepony been making cake?” asked Scootaloo, sniffing the air. She gasped. “Is it…apple cake?!”
“Sure is,” said Applebloom. “We can have a piece after we deal with- -”
Before she could answer, a door suddenly swung open. Applebloom squeaked with surprise as her brother entered, and she shoved the horseradish with her rump, sliding it into a pantry and closing the door quickly.
Big Mac entered the room and momentarily seemed surprised when he noticed the three very nervous looking fillies. Big Mac, though, was known throughout Ponyville to be somewhat thick. He did not seem to notice that anything was amiss, although he did seem vaguely suspicious.
“Big Mac!” said Sweetie Belle, pushing herself against the door with Applebloom and Scootaloo. “Hi! You look- -um- -very big today!”
Big Mac chuckled. “Eeyup,” he replied. He then crossed the room and sat down at the table, pouring himself apples from a container on the counter. Raw, plain, unsalted apples. Sweetie Belle winced at the thought of eating fruit that was not soaked in sugar and possibly deep fried. In sugar.
“Big Mac!” said Applebloom. “Didn’t you have something to do right now?”
“Eeyup.” Big Mac held up an apple, indicating that the thing he was supposed to be doing was having lunch.
“No! You know, the thing, with the thing, and the pony- -”
“Oh butt nuggets!” cried Scootaloo. “I forgot to do that today!”
“We don’t use that kind of language in this house, Scootaloo,” said a twangy female voice as Applejack entered the room with Granny Smith behind her. “Remember, swearing makes Celestia cry.”
“And I hear her tears of made of pure golden honey,” mused Granny Smith. “And if ya eat one, it cures yer rheumatism!”
“You could probably use that,” suggested Sweetie Belle.
“You’re darn tootin! But Celestia is really hard to catch! You’d think somethin’ so wide wouldn’t be maneuverable like that, but she’s like some kind ah’ supersonic dirigible!”
“Now, Granny, don’t go talking bad about Celestia,” said Applejack. “She’s a nice pony. That, and we wouldn’t want to call down the Wrath of the Sun again.”
“Again?” said Scootaloo. “What happened last time?”
“See how red Big Macntosh is?” said Granny Smith. “He used to be pale green! That’s all sunburn!”
“Granny Smith, don’t go scaring fillies and tellin’ tall tales! It just- -” Applejack suddenly froze. Her nose twitched as she smelled the air. “Do you smell that?” she said.
“Yup! Scootaloo doesn’t bathe, and her wings are too short for her to reach for pruning! She smells like that all the time!”
“Applebloom…” Scootaloo looked extremely hurt, but both she and Sweetie Belle knew that it was true.
“No, this isn’t Scootaloo stink,” said Applejack, sniffing around the room. “This is something…different…”
She began inching toward the door, and the three fillies each felt their hearts beating faster as their respective fears were rising: Applebloom that her family would be disappointed in her and that her horseradish would be taken away, Sweetie Belle that she would be put on the rack and given a diet of gruel, and Scootaloo that she would receive scootabuse Apple-family style.
Then, suddenly, Applejack turned to Big Mac and began sniffing vigorously. He sat perfectly still, wide-eyed and sweating.
“Is that…muffins?”
“Nope,” said Big Mac, shaking his head.
“Don’t you lie to me, Big Mac! You’ve got the smell of MUFFINS on you! What were you doing this morning when you went into town? Something with a certain GRAY PEGAUS, perhaps?”
Applejack stared at Big Mac with an expression of fury, and Big Mac began shaking nervously. The floor below him was getting saturated, and Applebloom hoped that it was with sweat.
“E…yup?” he squeaked.
“And what, exactly, were you doing with her?”
“Making…muffins?”
Applejack glared at him. “What kind of muffins?”
“Apple?”
Applejack stared harshly for a moment, and then her expression instantly softened. “Oh, well that’s okay then. Apple muffins are the very best type, and that’s a scientific fact! Because apples are best fruit! Another scientific fact! Ha, take that Twilight!” Applejack turned around. “There’s no muffin in all of Equestria like one with an apple shoved inside of it!”
Big Mac chuckled. “Heh heh heh…eeyup…”
“But still,” said Applejack, suddenly becoming more serious. “Wash yourself off after lunch. You smell like derp.”
“That reminds me,” said Sweetie Belle. “Big Macntosh, Rarity wanted your help with something.”
“Rarity?” said Applejack, confused. “What did she need? Why didn’t she ask me?”
“I don’t know. She just said that it was only something Big Mac could do. Unicorn stuff.”
“But Big Mac’s not a unicorn. Last time I checked, anyway.”
“I knew a unicorn, once,” said Granny Smith. “Way back when I was young and less arthritic. Noonlight Sparkle was his name. Member of the Royal Guard, back when we were caravannin’ through Canterlot. His horn…” Granny Smith sighed. “It was huge. But funny shaped. Real nubby, but unusually wide. And I do mean WIDE.” She groaned. “And Sweet Cadence in a Barrel, he could BUCK!”
The entire room went silent, and every pony looked at Granny Smith, all of them looking mortified.
“Granny Smith! We’ve talked about this!” hissed Applejack.
“What?” said Granny Smith, annoyed by the reaction to her story. “Have you ever TRIED to buck Canterlot elderberries? They’re stuck on those trees tighter than a unicorn’s wallet! Let me tell you, old Noonlight taught me a thing or two about bucking!”
Applejack breathed a long sigh of relief, but it was interrupted by a sudden knock. To her horror, Applebloom realized that it was coming from the closet behind her. The horseradish was trying to get out.
“What was that?” said Applejack, looking at Applebloom. Her eyes then shifted to the mud on the floor. “And where did all this dirt come from? It certainly isn’t ALL from Scootaloo!”
There was another knock. Applebloom looked to Sweetie Belle, but Sweetie Belle had frozen, her mind filled with visions of Twilight’s rack. “It’s um- -it’s the tommyknockers!”
Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith all gasped.
“Not again!” cried Applejack. “Granny, get me my poking stick! Applebloom, you get to your room, and if you hear hollering and screaming, get the forceps! Big Mac, you’re on me!”
Big Mac nodded, and the three adult ponies all got various pots from the cupboards with precision and practice that indicated that they had done this before. They each put the articles on their heads, and then raced out of the room.
After what felt like several minutes, Sweetie Belle turned to Applebloom. “What’s a tommyknocker?”
“No idea,” said Applebloom.
They opened the closet, and the horseradish tumbled out, along with several cans of potted apples, a jug of apple butter, and several cans of baking powder. The horseradish appeared to have been standing against the door, and it looked relieved to see the fillies again- -or at least they thought it looked pleased; it did not really have a face.
Applebloom then rushed the horseradish upstairs, and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle stayed behind to clean up the mess. This took some time, in part because the apple butter had spilled and had become extremely slippery. By the time both of them were done cleaning, both were mildly lubricated and smelled strongly of apples.
“I smell realllllly good,” said Scootaloo, sniffing herself. “It’s like I cuddled Applebloom for, like, a whole week!”
“It had better not stain,” muttered Sweetie Belle. “You have no idea how hard it is to keep a white coat clean.” She looked up, as though she could see through the ceiling to where Applebloom was. “What’s taking her so long? She should have been down here by now!”
“Maybe she got lost?”
“How hard is it to stash a radish?” Sweetie Belle stomped to the stairs, and then began to climb. Scootaloo followed. They quickly reached the much smaller second floor that was built over the barn, and Sweetie Belle went directly to Applebloom’s room.
“How do you know where her room is?” asked Scootaloo.
“Because I’ve been here so many times.”
“Oh,” said Scootaloo. “Wait, what?”
Sweetie Belle ignored her and checked Applebloom’s room. It had its normal contents: a bed, a desk covered in books and formulae, a second table with a bubbling secondhoof alchemy set, and numerous small clay pots with a number of strange experimental plants growing from them. Applebloom, though, was nowhere to be found, and neither was the horseradish.
At the sight of the lack of Applebloom, Sweetie Belle swore.
“Careful,” said Scootaloo, “you’ll make Celestia cure somepony’s rheumatism!”
“Celestia can suck my horn!” swore Sweetie Belle again as she stomped down the hallway.
“That would kind of be hard. Considering how short and nubby it is.”
Sweetie Belle tried to push her hair over her embarrassingly short horn as she felt her face grow hot. She was about to retort when she heard a sound coming from down the hallway. She looked, and saw a door partially open. The door to the bathroom.
Scootaloo seemed to notice too. “Oh. Maybe she had to shovel the road-apples?”
“She better not have,” said Sweetie Belle as she angrily approached the door and swung it open.
When she did, she was pleased to see that Applebloom was, in fact, not on the pot. Instead, she was sitting near the bathtub. It was filled with water and apple-based soap that covered the top in strongly scented bubbles. The horseradish was sitting in the bathtub, his body covered in bubbles as well.
“What in the name of Celestia’s magical organ are you doing?!” cried Sweetie Belle.
“Well, you said that he needed to be cleaned, and the hose was too cold, so- -”
“So you’re cleaning him NOW?!”
“Why are you yelling at me?!” yelled Applebloom. “YOU’RE the one who wanted him clean!”
“Not NOW! BEFORE he comes in the house- -not AFTER!”
“Applebloom?” called a voice from downstairs. The three fillies stiffened. It was Applejack. “Are you up there?”
“EEP!” cried Sweetie Belle, slamming the bathroom door. She, as well as the others- -save for the radish- -began to panic, running around the room wildly.
“What do we do, what do we do?!” cried Applebloom, stamping her feet anxiously.
“I don’t know, I don’t know!” squealed Scootaloo. Her wings were standing on edge from the agitation.
“We didn’t find the Tommyknockers,” said Applejack, her hooves clicking against the stairs as she came up. “But we did find Berry Punch trying to get at the cider supplies again. It’s okay, though. Big Mac took her out behind the barn to teach her a lesson. A real firm talking to, I reckon.”
“We have to hide him!” hissed Sweetie Belle.
“Who? Big Mac? But he’s huge- -”
“Not Big Mac, you idiot! The HORSERADISH!”
“We can’t!” cried Applebloom. “There’s nowhere to hide him in here!”
“Then- -then- -” Sweetie Belle suddenly spied a small window high above the bathtub. “THERE!” she cried. “Through there!”
“There?” Applebloom looked up at it. “It’s too small! And this is a second story window- -”
“Scootaloo, help me!”
Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle joined together, knocking Applebloom into the bathtub. Together, they stood on top of each other. Sweetie Belle picked up the horseradish, opened the window, and then hurled it through.
“HEY!” cried Applebloom. “You’ll bruise him!”
“Your turn!”
Sweetie Belle picked up Applebloom, who immediately began protesting in the magical field.
“What a minute! No, Sweetie Belle, stop, don’t- -”
Sweetie Belle then chucked Applebloom out of the second story window after the horseradish.
“Okay, now- -”
The door suddenly burst open, and Sweetie Belle slipped off of Scootaloo’s slippery wet body and fell into the bathtub below. There was a splash, and water went everywhere. They were both momentarily under water, but then Sweetie Belle felt Scootaloo pulling her back to the surface.
The two of them came up with a gasp. Both were soaking wet and holding each other in the bathtub. Both slowly turned to see Applejack staring at them wide-eyed. All three of them sat in silence for a long moment, and Sweetie Belle saw Applejack’s eyes drift to Scootaloo’s still fully erect wings, a result of her earlier fright.
“Okayyyy…” she said, “now, I don’t care what you two do on your own time, but I’d be right appreciative if you didn’t go defying nature in my bathtub.”
“What- -eew!” Sweetie Belle pushed Scootaloo away. “No, Applejack, we weren’t- -”
“Don’t you worry. I won’t tell Rarity. I know what it feels like to be a filly, you know. All the hormones, and all kinds of changes in your body. Sometimes you get urges, and sometimes they can be…confusing.”
“Tell me about it,” sighed Scootaloo.
“Why, one time when I was your age, me and Rarity- -”
“Eew eew eew eew!” cried Sweetie Belle, trying to cover her ears. “No! NO!”
Applejack did not stop , though. Like her grandmother, once she started telling a story, she felt compelled to finish it. Scootaloo sat in rapt attention while Sweetie Belle listened on in horror.
About an hour later, the two of them quietly left the farmhouse. Sweetie Belle held the door for Scootaloo, and closed it silently. The two of them walked with neither looking at the other. Neither one could. They walked in silence toward the edge of the orchard.
They just kept walking, and, eventually, Applebloom emerged from the bushes, the horseradish trailing behind her. “What the hay?” she asked. “What took you so long?”
Neither answered, and Applebloom began to become nervous. Then Sweetie Belle looked up, but instead of looking at Applebloom she seemed to look past her with a distant stare.
“Sweetie Belle? Are you- -are you okay?”
“My innocence,” she whispered. “My innocence is gone. That story…the story! I can’t…I’m never going to be able to look my sister in the eye again!”
“I thought it was sweet,” said Scootaloo. “Two starcrossed young lovers!” She sighed. “And it makes me feel a little more comfortable with my identity, too.”
“What do you mean by that, Scootaloo?”
“Not that comfortable, Applebloom.”
Applebloom did not know what that meant, but turned to Sweetie Belle. “Well, we can’t get the horseradish back into my house.”
Sweetie Belle took a deep breath, and then did her best to repress the images of filly-on-filly cuddling. “Right,” she said. “We need to find out what to do with it.”
“We can take it to my house,” suggested Scootaloo.
Sweetie Belle and Applebloom turned sharply toward Scootaloo. Both looked immensely surprised. Even the horseradish did. “You’re house?” they said in unison.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Well…we didn’t know you even HAD a house.”
Scootaloo frowned. “Why does everypony always think I’m homeless?”
“Various reasons. Chiefly the odor.”
“Well, I do have a house! I don’t live under Derpy’s porch anymore!”
“And your parents won’t find out?”
Scootaloo glared at Sweetie Belle. “I’m kind of in the same boat as Applebloom on that one. Trust me. No one cares enough to look. Or to give me food. Or hugs.”
Scootaloo held out her forelegs toward the others, but they did not oblige, despite the fact that her hour of sitting in Applejack’s bathtub had left her quite clean and fresh-scented. The horseradish, though, took the invitation. It, likewise, was clean, and despite the fact that it was a bizarre root monster, Scootaloo was the kind of pony who took any hug she could get.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders- -plus one ambulatory tuber- -continued down the long, winding dirt road that led back to town from the boondocks where the town’s various hicks and yokels lived. Their conversations were surprisingly usual, even though they were in the company of a horseradish. The horseradish, likewise, did not seem to mind. Although it could not, it appeared to like listening.
Walking together, they turned a sharp turn in the road. When they nearly bumped into an individual walking the opposite direction, they all- -save for the radish- -cried out in sudden panic.
“Not the rack!” cried Sweetie Belle. “It wasn’t my fault, Satin made me do it!”
“Um, okay?”
The fillies looked at the person they had run into, wondering what pony it had been, only to find that it was not a pony at all. They found themselves staring at, instead, a violet and green dragon.
“Spike!” cried Applebloom. “You scared the literal bajeezis out of us!”
“Yeah!” said Scootaloo. She pointed at the ground behind her. “Look, there it is!”
“Is it because I’m an enormous, frightening, physically imposing dragon?” said Spike.
The Crusaders laughed, not realizing that Spike was not in fact joking. Spike did not have time to ruminate on the sudden deflation of his self-esteem, though. Instead, he found himself staring directly into the eyes of a horseradish.
“Huh,” he said. “That’s odd.”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle stared at him, surprised at his lackadaisical response. “And you don’t find that weird?” asked Applebloom.
“Frankly? No, not really. I live in a castle made of fancy crystal that grew out of the ground. With Twilight and Starlight. And you would not believe what they get up to. I mean, one time I forgot to knock on Twilight’s door, and I caught them doing….things.”
“What kind of things?” asked Scootaloo.
“Well, Twilight told me they were doing a special magic ritual. So, witchcraft, I guess. And I believe her. There was a pentagram and candles and stuff. They even had a goat.”
Appleboom gasped. “They- -they sacrificed a goat?!”
“Sacrificed? No! He was just sort of…there. Watching.”
They all stood in silence for a moment. Then Spike shrugged. “Well, I need to get on my way. I have to get a bunch of gems for Rarity.” The sigh that he said ‘Rarity’ with made Sweetie Belle feel distinctly nauseous.
“You do know she’s using you, right?”
“Of course I do. But I can’t help it! She’s just so…Rarity.”
Sweetie Belle shivered. “It’s not a healthy relationship.”
“But she promised to show me her new bathing suit line!”
“Why?” asked Applebloom. “You’ve already seen her naked. We’ve all seen her naked. We’re ponies. We don’t wear clothes. YOU don’t wear clothes. HE doesn’t wear clothes.” She pointed at the Horseradish. “At least, I don’t think he does…hmm…maybe I should knit him a sweater…”
“I can’t help it,” sighed Spike. “I’m a dragon. I like pretty things, like gems.”
“You mean like the gems on my sister’s butt?”
Spike blushed. “Oh, look at the time,” he said. “I need to go do dragon things. You know, breathing fire, hoarding wealth, eating knights, that sort of thing. Very busy!”
“And we really need to hurry up and hide this horseradish,” said Scootlaoo. “If we get back after dark, the rats tend to get into my pillows, and trust me, you do NOT want to wake up with a rat in your ear.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders continued on their way, and Spike on his. He had been tasked to acquire several rare gems that neither he nor Rarity were able to find on their own. As such, Rarity had sent him to Maud Pie, who lived in a hole but stayed close to her kind on the edge of town. Maud was more than happy to sell gemstones that she had encountered in her work but considered “too arrogant” for further study. The prices were invariably high, as Maud spent a considerable sum of her money to fuel her coke habit. Spike was not sure why, exactly, but assumed that she was using it to do her own custom blacksmithing. That, or she was eating it, although the idea of eating a gray porous rock made from bituminous coal made him queasy.
He did eventually return to Rarity, where she decided that the gems were the wrong color for the project she was working on anyway and despite the fact that he had spent most of his day hiking out into Ponyville Adjacent and had spent his own allowance on them, she simply sent him away without showing him even a one-piece.
After this, he decided to stop at the Ponyville post office to get Twilight and Starlight’s non-Celestia-based mail. While there, he stole several muffins, taking advantage of the fact that Derpy had a hard time keeping an eye on them. Afterward, he went home.
Once there, he immediately found his way to Twilight’s laboratory. It was where she had been spending more and more time recently.
“Twilight?” Spike knocked at the door. “I got the mail. There’s some envelopes from Shining Armor in here. Hopefully he didn’t accidently send us the pictures meant for Cadence again…” Spike shuddered, remembering that unfortunate incident.
Twilight did not respond, and, concerned, Spike knocked again. “Twilight?”
The door immediately flew open, and a plume of acrid gas burst out. Spike coughed and choked at the smell of fresh-cut grass and something acidic. “Sweet Hairy Luna!” he cried. “Twilight, I told you! Rainbow Dash isn’t a good cook, you can only eat ONE of her chimichangas at a time!”
“It wasn’t the chimichangas,” said Twilight, poking her head from the plumes of gas and smoke. She sighed. “It was another failure, I’m afraid. It’s phosgene. And hydrogen fluoride. Try not to breath it.”
“Why? Is that stuff toxic?”
“No, not at all. I’m immortal.”
“What bout to me?”
“To a dragon? I have no idea. I haven’t done the LD50 yet.” She paused, and a familiar look of inspiration crossed her eyes. “Actually, I rescind my first statement. Come in, come in! And be sure to take lots and lots of deep breaths, and if you could, describe any unique symptoms you may be experiencing.”
“O…kay?”
Spike entered the room, and saw that it had in fact been another failed potion. Twilight’s various alchemical apparatuses were smoking and spitting, and the curtains were on fire. Twilight, having experienced this literally hundreds of times, picked up a fire extinguisher and began to extinguish.
“What happened?” said Spike, coughing slightly on the gas that was filling the room.
“Apparently my quebrith didn’t want to play nicely with my vitriol.” Twilight kicked the alchemy desk in frustration, causing the glassware to rattle. “It just isn’t working! That’s the tenth failure this week!”
“What were you trying to do? Making the sorcerer’s stone?”
Twilight slapped the back of Spike’s head. “It’s the PHILOSOPHER’S stone. Don’t be a git, Spike. Nopony likes a git.” Twilight sighed. “And no. What I was trying to do was RESEARCH. You know, unraveling the secrets of the material world, understanding the fundamental nature of the universe, applying this knowledge toward the benefit of ponykind? That sort of thing?” She looked at a still smoking beaker. “You know, turning gold into lead and stuff.”
“Don’t you mean lead into gold?”
Twilight laughed in the most condescending way possible, as was her custom. “Oh, no, Spike, we have a spell for that! How do you think I afford all these chaurus eggs?” She gestured toward a large but empty wooden bowl.
“Um…there aren’t any eggs there.”
Twilight looked at the bowl. “Oh. Well. You had better find an exterminator, then, shouldn’t you? And don’t go to sleep.”
Spike gulped audibly and held the mail he was holding close to his chest. Twilight did not seem to notice, and continued with her rant.
“And just look at my ponunculi!” she cried, pointing toward a large and almost spherical jar that had been converted into a terrarium. Spike stepped over to it and looked in. Inside, there were a number of tiny pony-like creatures. All of them were pinkish and hairless, and all of them were derped. Some of them were wandering around their habitat in utter amazement, others were resting, and a few had been trapped on their backs, unable to rectify their situations.
“They look good to me,” said Spike. “Kind of cute, even. In a horrible abomination kind of way.”
“They’re supposed to be bigger,” said Twilight, as though it was obvious. “By now, I should have an entire army of golems willing to do my royal bidding!”
“Does Celestia know you’re trying to, you know, commit crimes against nature?”
“PFF,” said Twilight. “She sent me here to make friends, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know if that’s what she meant.”
“The problem is,” said Twilight, ignoring Spike as usual, “is that the ingredients just aren’t high enough quality. I can order dried preparations in catalogues, get them from Zecora, but that doesn’t include the kind of things I need.”
“And what do you need?”
“I’m not sure, Spike. I need to think about it. Maybe take Starlight into the basement and consult her.”
“You do that,” said Spike, setting Twilight’s mail on her desk. He turned to leave, but pointed at the jar of ponunculi before doing so. “And please don’t break that jar. I don’t want to wake up with one of those crawling into my ear.”
“You don’t have ears.”
“That’s not the point. Their almost as weird looking as that root thing that Applebloom has.”
Twilight looked confused. “Root thing? Applebloom’s a filly, why would she have a root?”
“Oh. Yeah, I saw it on the way here. Like a pony, except it was a root. With a plant growing out of its head. And walking around. It was super freaky. I’ll probably have nightmares.” He paused. “I think she called it a horseradish?”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “Horse…radish?”
“I know, right? It’s not a radish at all! More like a weird potato or something- -”
Twilight immediately rushed past him, throwing him onto the ground to get him out of the way as she ran to the bookshelves on the side of the room.
“Ow! Twilight, why did you do that? I mean, it’s not the first time you’ve injured me on the way to books- -”
“Shut your pie-hole, Spike, I’m trying to book!” Twilight threw open several texts, levitating more of them in her magic. “Let’s see…phlebotinum base…nigrosine augmentation….potash content at forty seven to nineteen parts, high in fiber…” Her eyes widened even wider, and she squealed with joy. “That’s it! That’s IT!”
“What’s it?”
“Horseradish! That’s exactly the reagent I need! See?” She turned the book toward Spike. “A chelating matrix of Salts of Animation! Horseradish has the organic porforins already synthesized and stable!”
“Twilight, I think the gas is affecting you. You’re not making any sense.”
“No, YOU’RE not making any sense! Horseradish, it’s the exact reagent I’m missing, a bridge that will allow my synthesis reaction to work properly!” She flipped through the book. “Chopped? No, no…GROUND horseradish! That’s the key! I never even considered it because they’re almost extinct and ultra-super-secret-double-illegal, but since laws don’t apply to Princesses, that’s okay!” She breathed heavily, having just exhausted most of her hot air. “Spike, are you SURE it was a horseradish?”
“I guess they could have just had a really ugly friend?”
“No, from what Sweetie Belle tells me they don’t like Diamond Tiara all that much. So it MUST be a horseradish!” She gasped excitedly and her long, luxurious alicorn wings stood on end. “I HAVE to have that horseradish! Spike, take me to it, NOW!”
“Twilight…I don’t feel so good…”
At that instant, Spike finally succumbed to the gas and passed out on the floor.
“Oh,” said Twilight. “Interesting.” She took up a clipboard and a violet quill and began scribbling down some notes. “So phosgene DOES affect dragons, it just takes a while. Vey interesting Spike…” She paused, and looked down at Spike. “Aaaaand I should probably get you to fresh air. So that you can wake up and tell me where the horseradish is.” I like them �� �Q
Upon entering Ponyville, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had split up. Scootaloo had taken the horseradish to her own home, and Applebloom, though apprehensive about leaving the horseradish alone with Scootaloo, left with Sweetie Belle. By this time, it was evening, and instead of going all the way back home in the dark- -which would have put her at high risk of encountering something unsavory, like a timberwolf or Discord- -she spent the night at Sweetie Belle’s house.
This was not an unusual occurrence, and nopony suspected a thing. Sweetie Belle’s mother even made cookies, and although Applebloom was able to eat six of them, Sweetie Belle was so guilt-ridden that she could barely finish the remaining two and a half dozen. She then fell asleep in the remainder, only to awake from a horrible nightmare about Twilight’s filly-sized rack and Applejack’s story. That was made far worse, though, when she realized that she had sleep-walked earlier in the night and had awoken cuddling Applebloom.
Although Applebloom did not seem to mind, Sweetie Belle had a hard time talking to her the next morning when the two of them followed Scootaloo’s instructions to her home.
“I hope the horseradish is okay,” said Applebloom. “He needs to be watered periotically, but only with really pure water, ideally with a trace of potassium nitrate. Not sodium, nitrate, though! She better not have used sodium!”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Sweetie Belle, still having a hard time being able to look at her friend without imagining the soft fluffiness of her mane and the way she smelled like sweet apple flowers.
“But what if she put him near a window? What if the light is wrong? He could get leggy!”
“He’ll be fine,” repeated Sweetie Belle. “Scootaloo is our friend for a reason. She’s a responsible pony, and we trust her. Right?”
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked at each other, and then broke into a trot toward Scootaloo’s house.
What they found, though, was that the directions did not lead to a residential section of town. They actually led to the outskirts of town, to a place where the farthest buildings were still visible but only on the far edge of a large field. They had in fact arrived at a bridge. Not the hoofpath bridge in the center of town, but a train causeway over a ravine that was used as Ponyville’s primary drainage canal.
“Um, this isn’t right,” said Applebloom.
“This is where the directions she left said to go.”
“Are you sure? You know how bad she is at writing.”
“I’m sure.”
They stared at the train bridge for a moment, and then walked around it until Sweetie Belle rolled down the embankment toward the dirty river below. Applebloom watched her go, and then followed her down a narrow and well-worn path to the shore. As she did, she paused and realized what Scootaloo’s instructions had meant.
Scootaloo lived under the bridge. There, sitting just beneith it, was a ramshackle shack made of debris and detritus that she had pulled from the river. It had walls made of moldering plywood augmented with rusty corrugated sheet metal. The size was roughly equal to that of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse, but it was lopsided and far less sturdy.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious a Pegasus built it. I’m surprised she didn’t just use clouds.”
“Why?” said Sweetie Belle, pulling herself from the river. “She’d never be able to get to it.”
“True,” said Applebloom, lifting her hoof to knock on a door that seemed to be mostly made of plastic bottles hammered over various bits of cracked driftwood. When she went to tap, though, the door fell in. The sight that Applebloom and Sweetie Belle were greeted with was as unexpected as it was disturbing.
Inside, Scootaloo and the horseradish were standing in the center of the dirt-floored room. Scootaloo was dressed in a tight pleather jacket with an equally pleather cap, and had accessories heavily with chains. She was holding a riding crop in her mouth. The horseradish, meanwhile, had been given a small brown vest and an old looking cowpony hat. To Applebloom, it looked like the plant version of her cousin Braeburn.
“SCOOTALOO!” cried Applebloom, feeling her voice rise several octaves until it was almost to a point that could only be heard by dogs and Fluttershy. “What in the Sam Hill do you think you’re DOINT?!”
“Nothing,” said Scootaloo, letting the riding crop fall out of her mouth. When she realized that they did not believe her, she adjusted her answer. “Just…you know. Roleplaying. Dress up. Fillies do that all the time.”
“NOT LIKE THIS!” squealed Applebloom.
“Where did you even get clothes like that?” said Sweetie Belle, lifting the corner of Scootaloo’s jacket.
“I use them for work,” said Scootaloo.
“Work? You’re a filly. Fillies don’t work.”
“Most fillies don’t. But most fillies also, you know, have parents. Or relatives. Or don’t live under a bridge. I have to eat too, Sweets.”
“And what do you do?”
“I cuddle colts for money. I’m apparently really soft. Also, I really need the hugs. I get so lonely.” She sat up and held out her hooves, gesturing for Sweetie Belle to come closer. “Come on, Sweets, you know you want to!”
Sweetie Belle put her hoof against Scootaloo’s head and pushed her over. She then turned to Applebloom, who was fretting over her horseradish.
“What did she do to you?” she asked, inspecting its leaves. “Scootaloo, if you touched a leaf on his adorable little head I’ll buck you so hard Rainbow Dash will squeal!”
“I didn’t do anything!” said Scootaloo. “I just dressed him up in silly outfits! He enjoys it! Don’t you?”
The horseradish nodded, and both Sweetie Belle and Applebloom jumped back.
“He- -he understood?” squeaked Sweetie Belle.
“He understood!” cried Applebloom, swelling with pride.
“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “Of course he understands. Watch this. Who’s your favorite pony?”
The horseradish lifted one of its hooves and pointed at a wall.
“Well…okay, maybe not that smart. But you’ll love this!”
Scootaloo bounded across the room to where an extremely beat up and water-damaged phonograph was sitting. She set the needle on an extremely warped record and activated it. A horrid tune came out, and Sweetie Belle covered her ears.
“ACK!” she cried. “I can see why they flushed that down the river!”
The horseradish seemed to suddenly become alert, though, and it looked around. Despite not having any discernable ears, it seemed to be able to hear. It stood up straight and suddenly tilted to one side, pulling its feet on the opposite side off the ground. It bounced twice, and then tipped to the other side and repeated the process.
“What is it doing?”
“Dancing!” cried Scootaloo. She laughed, and also started dancing. Applebloom, astounded, froze for a moment, but then danced with them as well. Sweetie Belle did her best to join out of sheer peer pressure, but had trouble because of how absolutely terribly the music was.
The record eventually ended, and the horseradish stopped dancing. The Cutie Mark Crusaders fell onto the floor, all of them laughing.
“I can’t believe that just happened!” said Applebloom.
“I know, right? I don’t even remember why I felt so bad befo- -oh. Now I do.”
“I wonder what else it can do?”
Scootaloo stood up. “Why don’t we find out?”
“Find out? How?”
“Well, you know. The same way we used to do with our cutie marks. When was the last time we just went out and did random stuff that could probably hurt us really badly?”
“It has been a while…”
“No,” said Sweetie Belle. “We’re supposed to be HIDING the horseradish. Not playing with it.”
“But he’s having so much fun,” protested Sweetie Belle. “I mean, did you ever stop to think why he didn’t just stay in the ground? It must be so boring down there. I wouldn’t want to be buried like that! At least not a second time…”
“You can’t be serious. Applebloom, talk some sense into Scootaloo. And if she won’t listen to sense, smack the sense into her!”
“I don’t know,” said Applebloom. “Not about smacking Scootaloo, that’s neither here nor there. But the horseradish…I mean, I want him to enjoy life, but at the same time, I don’t want him to get hurt…” She paused. “I’m turning into a mother, aren’t I? Gosh darn it.” She sighed, and then looked at Sweetie Belle with her enormous brownish eyes. Sweetie Belle felt her heart suddenly beat faster and to her horror realized that Applebloom was surprisingly cute.
Applebloom, of course, did not understand at all why Sweetie Belle blushed so much so suddenly. A twinge of anger did come over her, though, as she wondered if the white filly was eyeing her horseradish.
“Don’t you be thinking about touching my root, Sweetie Belle.”
“Me? What- -I wasn’t!” gasped Sweetie Belle with a small squeal. “I- -we’re friends- -and fillies and- -”
“And I think we should take the horseradish out.” She turned toward the plant, who rocked forward and backward excitedly. “He needs sunlight for photosynthesis.”
“But ponies will see him!”
“This town has, like, fifty different locations and tops twenty ponies. We’ll just go where they aren’t.”
“I’m really good at that,” said Scootaloo. Her expression fell, and she sniffled. “I’m so alone when you guys aren’t with me…”
Sweetie Belle grumbled for a moment. “Well…I really, REALLY don’t want to get, you know, tortured in a dungeon. You know. Chains, whips, being tied up and left on a cold floor while ponies yell at me.” As she said this, she noticed Scootaloo’s wings slowly start to rise. “But I’m also really, really reckless. I think all three of us are. And Scootaloo’s house smells like sour milk. So, yeah. Why don’t we do it.”
The other two cheered, and the horseradish quivered with anticipation. Sweetie Belle, though, had the strangest feeling that this would end badly.
At about the time that the Cutie Mark Crusaders were leaving Scootaloo’s hobo shack, Twilight had just entered the periphery of Ponyville, and had begun to cross into the territory of the poor mortal commoners that dwelt in her kingdom.
Spike trotted at her side, having some trouble holding all of the various supplies that were needed for the expedition.
“Twilight? Are you sure that you need all this?” he asked.
“Of course. I need several volumes on herbology to do the identification, and several more extra weighty tomes to know where to cut. There is some debate on whether you should cut the legs off first, or remove the leaves. I will need to consult them before the preparation. Oh, Spike, I’m so excited! Look at my wings!”
“I’d rather not,” said Spike, attempting to divert his eyes from Twilight’s most downy of appendages. They were, indeed, quite erect, to the point that Twilight dragged them absently across the faces of several passing commoners, causing at least three of them to sneeze.
“I even made this for the occasion!” Twilight removed a small device from her saddle bags and showed Spike.
“What is it?”
“A horseradish detector! I tuned it to detect roots of unusual thickness. Which means,” she flipped the toggle switch to turn the device on, and it started to click and blink. “Which means it actually works!” said Twilight, who actually seemed surprised by her success. “See? It’s picking up a horseradish! And it’s only releasing fifty rads a second!”
“Is that a lot?”
“For an immortal alicorn? No. Celestia’s rump releases at least twice that. Seriously, you can get a tan off that thing.” Twilight sighed. “I wish my rump could do that…”
“I think you’re rump’s pretty good.”
“Don’t make this weird, Spike,” said Twilight, checking her meter. “Ah. This way.”
She walked quickly through the town, feeling her anticipation growing and growing as she drew closer to the dot on the meter. Then she stopped in front of a building.
“The post office?” said Spike.
“That makes sense,” said Twilight.
“How does that possibly make sense?”
“Spike, it should be obvious.”
Twilight entered, and, grumbling, Spike followed her.
“Hello?” called Twilight.
There was no response- -at first. Then Twilight heard a sound coming from the room behind the counter in the otherwise empty post office.
“That’s it!” she squealed. “Spike, do you have the rope?”
“No…”
“Oh, well, you’ll have to use your hands. And try not to listen to its screams. They’re lethal.”
“Lethal?! As in we could die doing this?!”
“Oh, no, Spike,” laughed Twilight. “I’m an alicorn, I’m immortal!”
“Have you ever tested it?” asked Spike as Twilight made her way toward the back room.
“Doubting my divinity is heresy, Spike. And you know what we do with heretics. At least, I hope you do. I didn’t cover that part of Princess lessons. It probably involves whips and chains and something.” She paused. “That sounds hard, though. I’ll make Starlight do it. She likes that sort of thing, doesn’t she?”
Before Spike could answer, Twilight threw open the door and jumped into the back of the mail room. “A-HAH!” she cried, charging her magic in preparation for attacking a tuber.
There was no tuber, though. Instead, she saw Big Mac standing wide-eyed and surprised in the center of the room, dressed only in a frilly pink apron. He was leaning against a table on which a large platter had been placed, and was ladling gravy onto the wings of the gray-colored pony who had been placed there. Derpy, meanwhile, had been tied like a prepared turkey, complete with the little turkey boots and an apple stuffed in her mouth.
Twilight gasped.
“Twilight, this isn’t what it looks like,” said Big Mac. Derpy nodded in agreement and said something, although it was inaudible through the apple in her mouth.
“Big Mac!” cried Twilight, tears welling in her eyes. “I thought you only poured your gravy on MY wings!”
Before Big Mac could protest, Twilight turned around and ran from the room, sobbing. Spike watched her go, and then looked into the room. His eyes met with Big Mac’s, and then with at least one of Derpy’s.
“Well?” he said after a few long minutes. He gestured with his claw. “Continue!”
Needless to say, Derpy did not want Spike in attendance for her afternoon basting. He was thrown out of the post office with great vigor, and forced to rejoin Twilight on her quest for a rare alchemical reagent. Twilight was sitting on the curb outside, and as Spike caught up with her, he thought he saw her wipe a tear away from her face.
“Twilight? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Spike,” she sighed. “I just would rather not have seen that.”
“It wasn’t exactly pleasant, was it?” said Spike, shivering. “It makes me feel weird about myself. Because, you know, she looked so tasty.”
“And I guess I didn’t.” Twilight sighed again, and took out a thick alchemy book. She started to leaf through the pages. “Well, that’s what I get. From now on, I’m just going to focus on alchemy and magic and ignore ponies of the opposite sex. I’ll be like Gercolt of Ponia and study alchemy every day, all the time, and not bother with that sort of thing.”
“Um…what exactly gave you that impression? Because I think you mistranslated some pieces- -”
“I don’t mistranslate, Spike,” snapped Twilight. “I assure you, I am QUITE fluent in Ponish. ‘W ananasie sześć kotów w pudełku mleka śledziony’. HA! See?”
“If you say so...”
“I DO say so.” She took out her horseradish detector and glared at it.
“Why did it detect Big Mac, though?”
“It’s because it detects a certain type of merged plant/pony DNA. Big Mac’s heritage must have interfered with it.”
“Heritage?”
“Yeah. You know, because his bloodline has crossed with apple trees several times.”
“Apple trees- -how- -what- -how is that even possible?”
Twilight sighed. “Well, Spike, when a mare and an apple tree love each other very much- -”
“On second thought I don’t want to know!” cried Spike, covering where he was pretty sure he had ears. It was too late, though, and strange images of Granny Smith filled his mind. He would likely never sleep again.
“Oh, well, suffice it to say there are bees involved. But yeah. All this thing does is pick up the Apple family. See?” She held it out for Spike. “See that dim dot over near the Ponyville auxiliary playground? That’s probably Applebloom. And that ultra-bright one near her, the one that’s nearly burning out the machine? I’m sure that’s just Applejack.” Twilight sighed and threw the device over her shoulder, beaming a passing pony right in the horn. Poor Lyra collapsed on the ground, unconscious, but nopony cared.
“Well,” said Spike, “I saw the horseradish with Applebloom before. Could she know where it is now?”
“No, of course not,” laughed Twilight. “Spike, don’t be ignorant. All of the accounts I have read have indicated that horseradish is TERRIFIED of ponies. If the Crusaders managed to capture one, it’s escaped now, guaranteed.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Books don’t lie, Spike. It’s impossible that they could have any idea where it is. It’s a simple, indisputable fact.”
“But- -”
“INDISPUTABLE, Spike!”
“Alright, alright!”
Twilight sighed once again. “But that means we don’t have any leads. I was sure my detector would work! And I don’t have a horseradish detecting spell…”
“Then we have to do this the old fashioned way,” said Spike.
“Old fashioned?” Twilight looked confused. “There’s an old fashioned way to hunt horseradish?”
“Trust me,” said Spike. “Trust me. I know a pony.”
A bell rang as Spike opened the door and led Twilight into the Ponyville town florist.
“Spike, why are we here?” asked Twilight, clearly incredulous to Spike’s plan. “We don’t need flowers.”
“You can always use flowers,” said Lilly Valley, appearing directly next to Twilight.
“GAH!” cried Twilight, her wings instinctively flapping violently and pulling her upward in fright. She bumped off the ceiling and a wall before crashing into the floor. Spike and Lilly Valley just watched, and then turned to each other.
“Spike!” said Lily. “It’s so good to see you! Will it be the usual today?”
“You have a usual?” said Twilight, attempting to stand and finding herself rather glad that her momentary escapade had not inadvertently bent the stem of a zinnia.
“A dozen white roses with three foal’s-breath plumes and three fern leaves on the frame. Always sent to Canterlot Boutique. A beautiful bouquet, if I do say so myself.”
“Actually, I was looking for something a little bit different today.”
“Oh! Well, we certainly have ‘different’! We just got some foxglove. Or if you’re feeling REALLY crazy, maybe some- -” She looked from side to side, “Some…lupines? Or some snapdragons, perhaps?”
“Actually, I was looking for a gift. Something for a very fluffy pony.”
Something in Lilly’s expression hardened. “A fluffy pony, you say?” Her voice was as high and cheerful as ever, but at the same time it had just subtly changed. “May I ask what color?”
“Green.”
Lilly was silent for a long moment, and she stared at Twilight, apparently considering something. Then she started walking. “I have just what you need. Right this way.”
Spike followed, and Twilight joined him.
“Spike,” said Twilight, leaning down near his head. “We don’t have time for this!”
“Shh,” said Spike. “You trust me, right? I know what I’m doing. But try to leave the talking to me, and don’t freak out. If you do, our funerals will have REALLY nice flowers!”
Twilight did not know what that meant, but she did trust Spike- -although usually only with small, unimportant things. She followed him and Lilly into the back room of the shop.
Immediately she was struck by a powerful scent not just of flowers but of various types of leaves and herbs. Twilight blinked at the light of hundreds of magically powered tube lights sitting over boxes and cages of various horticultural specimens.
“Right,” said Lilly, her tone now completely different as she turned around to face them. “Plants for our ‘special’ customers.” She smiled. “Let’s see. What are you looking for? I’ve got this.” She tapped on a large glass container containing a plant that resembled a mass of vines. It shifted violently, its tendrils snapping toward her hoof.
“That’s- -that’s a devils snare!” blurted Twilight. “That’s a class six restricted plant!”
“Yes, but you can import them with a permit.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you had a permit.”
Lilly’s face scrunched, but she continued. Before Spike could interrupt her, she quickly passed to where a small greenish plant with a red, mouth-like flower was growing from a clay pot. It was only a few inches small, and it writhed and turned as she picked up the pot. “Or how about a baby echinops?” she said. “You just wouldn’t believe what we had to do to the soil to get it to grow. For you, twenty five thousand.”
“That’s neat,” said Spike, keeping his cool as he spoke. “But not what we’re looking for.”
“Well how about this?” she gestured behind her where Daisy was standing, almost completely overgrown by a series of thin yellow tendrils coming from a plant that she was attempting to repot. “Genuine slaughter dodder!”
“Wait,” said Daisy. “What is this plant called? And why do I feel so…faint…”
She immediately collapsed, and Lilly sighed. “Rose!” she called. Across the way, Rose looked up. She was completely covered in a hazard suit with a respirator mask, apparently propagating plants that closely resembled cabbages with long striped tails and curious little faces that looked up at her. “Put the skunk cabbage on hold for now. Get that stuff off her before she desiccates!”
“Hudduh hudduh hudduh,” replied Rose, reaching for a shovel.
“We have skunk cabbage too,” said Lilly. “And walking onions. And that one bush that bursts into flames when you look at it. Catnip, dragonroot, six kinds of locoweed. If you need it, El Spiko, we’ve got it. If you’ve got the coin.”
“I’m looking for a horseradish.”
The entire room fell silent. Both Rose and Lilly’s eyes grew wide, and even Daisy- -despite being mostly sucked dry by the vampire dodder attached to her- -sat bolt upright.
“What is this?” said Lilly, taking a step back and looking nervously between Spike and Twilight. “What are you? Are you - -are you some kind of NARC?”
“No,” said Spike calmly. “But word on the street is one has been spotted around here.”
“It hasn’t,” said Lilly, still sounding extremely nervous. She looked over her shoulder at Rose. “We don’t deal with that sort of thing, Spike. You know that. We’re florists. We’re in it for the cash and the stallion flank. We’re not suicidal!”
“Then you haven’t heard about one?” asked Twilight, feeling that Spike’s lead was turning out to be a waste of time, and also feeling a little freaked out that the florists were running some kind of bizarre illegal plant ring out of the back of their shop. She felt even more freaked out, though, that they apparently knew Spike as “El Spiko”.
“No. Because you CAN’T hear about one. There can’t be one.”
“Why not?”
“Because they were hunted to extinction over two hundred years ago! There are none left, none at all! And let me tell you, I’m GLAD they’re gone. The Lily clan has stories about them, and how they are evil sons of vetches. They hate ponies, and their scream is deadly. There were entire wars fought by them. Back in the day, they were one of the WORST enemies of ponykind.”
“Well, Spike saw one just- -”
Spike elbowed Twilight in the leg. “What she means is, she’s researching them. And we thought that you might know about them. Or have a dry sample?”
Lilly shook her head. “Like I said. I don’t deal in that bunk. No one in the Organization does, either. I can guarantee that.”
Spike stared at her for a moment, but Lilly did not relent. Spike eventually sighed.
“Thanks, Lilly,” he said. “I’ll take my regular order this week, after all.”
“I’ll put it on your tab,” responded Lilly with an oddly dark tone.
“Come on, Twilight.”
Spike and Twilight turned to leave.
“Wait,” said Rose, pulling off her mask. “Horseradish may not be a thing anymore, but the way the Rose Clan used to hunt them was with dogs. They have a really pungent odor. That’s how you could track one, if they weren’t all dead.”
“Thanks,” said Spike. “Twilight will be sure to include that in her report.”
They then left the back room, although Twilight quickly ran back in and pointed at the echinops. “I’ll take ten of those,” she said.
“Twilight!” called Spike.
“Have them boxed and sent to me. I’ll send Derpy once she washes off Big Mac’s gravy.”
“Wait, Big Mac? He told me he only liked earth-ponies!”
“He told me the same thing!” said Rose. “He even covered me in applesauce- -”
“Me too!” wheezed Daisy. “I smelled like nutmeg for a week!”
They all looked at each other. “Rose,” said Lilly. “Box some of the slaughter dodder. It look’s like we’ll be sending a free sample today.”
By this point in the day, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were breathing hard and sweating. The activity that they had been performing had been quite rigorous, although all of them- -and as far as they could tell, the horseradish as well- -had enjoyed it.
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo looked at each other and smiled, and then crossed the Ponyville badminton court to the other side where the horseradish and Applebloom were standing. All had undergone a costume change, and were wearing the proper attire for badmintoning. Sweetie Belle felt like her sister would have fainted at range if they had not.
“Well?” asked Scootaloo. “How’d it go?”
“Not well,” said Sweetie Belle. She looked at the horseradish, and it stared back at her. It was holding a badminton racket in a fold that Sweetie Belle assumed to be something like a mouth. “If it hadn’t been for Scootaloo, it would have been a total wash.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault,” said Scootaloo, pulling at her badminton skirt. “It’s this darn butt-funnel…”
“Yeah,” said Applebloom. “Apparently horseradishes aren’t great at racket sports.” She picked up a clip board. “Actually,” she said, looking through it, “he’s not really good at much. Moderate at swimming, I think, but only because he’s buoyant. Being a root and all.”
“It was still really fun, though,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, he’s doing his best, and he never complains, even when he loses. I mean, when we tried climbing trees? That was hilarious. Seeing a root climbing a tree. I mean, I almost spilled my lemonade.”
“Not to mention that he kind of looks totally adorable in the outfits,” said Sweetie Belle.
The horseradish seemed pleased by these comments. It did not have a face, really, but it did seem to be able to express emotions subtly.
“Well, I’m tired,” said Sweetie Belle. She looked up and saw that the sun was nearing the horizon. They had all had a long and very enjoyable day. “I think maybe we should start heading home.”
“Yeah. I really want to take a nap,” said Scootaloo. “Even if my bed is really just a dirt floor covered in old rags.”
“I wonder what the horseradish should sleep in,” mused Sweetie Belle.
“Well, that would be dirt,” said Applebloom. Her eyes suddenly widened. “Holy alicorn sandwich!” she cried. “I completely forgot about the special dirt! I haven’t even started on it yet!”
“I wonder what would be in an alicorn sandwich,” said Scootaloo.
“Twilight’s the meat. Cadence is the cheese. Luna and Celestia are the buns, but mostly Celestia. Because, you know, buns.” Sweetie Belle turned to Applebloom. “Do you have time to make the dirt tonight?”
“I think so,” said Applebloom. “If I switch around a few of the wood products and stop to get some nettle tea…yeah. I think I can do that.”
“Well, then the horseradish only has to stay with Scootaloo for one more night.”
“No!” cried Applebloom. “She’ll bruise it!”
“I wouldn’t,” said Scootaloo. “But I can’t tonight! Rainbow Dash is having me for dinner!”
“I didn’t know Rainbow Dash was into that sort of thing,” said Applebloom.
“Really?” said Sweetie Belle, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, it’s cool that she lets you stay overnights with her.”
“She doesn’t. I’m going to hide in her closet and watch her sleep. If I’m lucky, I can cut off some hair. I’m making a wig.”
“O…kay? That’s totally normal and not obsessive at all.”
Applebloom turned to Sweetie Belle. “Then what are we going to do with the horseradish? I can’t take him home, not with how close we barely got to getting caught the last time!”
“I’ll do it,” said Sweetie Belle. “It’s not a problem.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll just stay at Carousel Boutique.”
“But won’t Rarity find out?”
“Rarity’s not home. She’s in Manehattan visiting Coco Pommel. She won’t be back for almost a week. Plus, my parents don’t know she’s gone because they’re pretty dense.”
“Just like Scootaloo.”
“What?” asked Scootaloo, clearly not understanding what they meant.
“Are you sure, though?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fine. You just go work on the soil, and Scootaloo, enjoy your dinner and don’t fall out of Rainbow Dash’s house this time.”
“It’s not my fault the floor is made out of clouds,” muttered Scootaloo.
“Come on,” said Sweetie Belle to the horseradish. “Let’s see if I can’t get you back to my sister’s house without getting arrested.”
By the time Sweetie Belle entered Ponyville, the sun had set and the moon had risen. In part, this was because she knew that most ponies went to bed relatively early to prevent themselves from being eaten by monsters and such. It was also in part because Ponyville could be surprisingly large when it wanted to, and her stubby filly legs were not able to move her terribly quickly through the streets.
She hardly noticed the time, though. On the way back, she had initially been silent, but over time had started speaking to her tuberous companion. This had started out as mostly small talk, but it had quickly involved into things far more personal.
“And sometimes I feel like no one cares,” she said. “Like, right now. Do my parents know where I am? No, of course not. And they don’t care. They just assume I’m at Rarity’s. But they don’t even care enough to, you know, make sure she’s actually here. It’s like they just don’t pay attention. And Rarity is the GOOD daughter!”
She looked up at the horseradish, and it looked back. It did not have the capacity to talk, and Sweetie Belle was not sure if it could even understand what she was saying, as it only seemed to understand a few simple words. Still, she continued, though. There was no pony else that she could talk to about these things.
“And that’s kind of the problem too. I mean, Rarity’s a great sister, but where does that leave me? He’s an Element of Harmony, friends with the Princess, she has a successful business…and what do I have? Two real friends and a clubhouse?” She sighed. “I mean, I didn’t even get my cutie mark until I was already eleven. And I figured that as soon as I had it, everything would make sense. But it doesn’t. Knowing what you’re supposed to do doesn’t make you good at it, you know? There’s still a lot of hard work. A lifetime of it. It just seems so big, and sometimes…sometimes I don’t feel up to it.”
Sweetie Belle was stopped as she suddenly felt a pair of root-legs around her. As strange as it felt, she immediately realized that she was being hugged. The horseradish may not have understood her- -or maybe it had- -but it seemed to know what she was feeling. Being hugged by bizarre-smelling root was odd, but Sweetie Belle only then realized that it was exactly what she needed. She hugged back, and the horseradish seemed to become warmer and more sweet-smelling, as though it had wanted a hug as well for its own impenetrable reasons.
“Aww,” said Sweetie Belle. “No wonder Scootaloo liked you so much.”
When the hug was completed, Sweetie Belle led the horseradish two more blocks to where Carousel Boutique stood. She entered, taking the somewhat hesitant radish in with her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know it smells weird in here, but that’s normal. Like new fabric and marshmallows. Which is weird, because Rarity doesn’t even eat them. She says they go to her hips, which is totally not even true. I eat like four bags a day.”
The horseradish, confused, poked at Sweetie Belle hips. There was some jiggling involved, and Sweetie Belle laughed. “Stop that, it tickles!”
Just then, as Sweetie Belle was secretly hoping that the horseradish went in for another poke, there was a knock on the door. Sweetie Belle and the horseradish immediately froze. They looked at each other.
“Who…who would be there this late?”
There was another knock, this time louder. Then it progressed to pounding. By this time, Sweetie Belle started to panic. They had found her out- -and now they were coming to find her. They would take the horseradish, and they would throw her in the castle dungeon. All color- -not that there was much, she was a white unicorn after all- -drained from her face. They would surely do terrible things to her, like depriver her of cake, spray her with delousing powder, or nail horseshoes to her hooves- -or even worse. They might even use the RACK.
Panicking, Sweetie Belle looked around. She had to hide the evidence of her guilt. They had no doubt already captured Applebloom and Scootaloo, and had likely tortured Scootaloo quite extensively. They had squealed on her. But if she hid the evidence, she thought, she would be okay.
Looking around, she saw a large pot. It did not have dirt or anything of the sort, but in her panic, Sweetie Belle picked up the horseradish and dropped it in. It righted itself immediately, peaking its head out of the top. Sweetie Belle shoved it down so that only its leaves were sticking out of the pot.
“Stay down!” she hissed.
The thudding on the door got louder, and suddenly it burst in with a plume of blue light. Sweetie Belle screamed.
“I’m just a filly!” she cried in an octave so high that somewhere else in Ponyville both Winona and Fluttershy started barking. “I only just got my cutie mark, I’m too young for a rack! I’M TOO YOUNG!”
As she sat terrified and shaking, Rarity walked through the now badly damaged door.
“I really must get Big Macintosh to fix my hinges,” she sighed. Then she paused. “Actually…I wonder if I could make him wear an appropriate costume while he does it…” She grinned, but then noticed Sweetie Belle. “Sweetie Belle!” She cried. “What- -what are you doing in my house? I didn’t say you could be here!”
“R…Rarity?”
“You came in here to touch my things, didn’t you!”
“No, I- -hey, wait a minute! You’re supposed to be in Manehattan all this week!”
“Well, I, yes, but- -” Rarity sputtered for a moment. “Well, I had to leave early!”
“Why?”
“Well, you know. My little Pommel horse has such a fragile constitution, and our…ahem…activities took a toll on her. So I came back.” She paused. “Actually, I should make her something. You’ve been violating my possessions, do I still have that darling sheer fabric and the lace?”
“Yes,” said Sweetie Belle, knowing exactly where it was.
“Oh, splendid” Rarity walked past Sweetie Belle, but as her hooves squished along the carpet she paused. “Um…Sweetie Belle, darling, why is the floor wet here?”
“Because you scared me! I thought you were the 5-O!”
“Darling, they prefer to be called ‘guard-hunks’. And why would you think that?” She leaned in close. “What did you do? Did that Scootaloo put you up to it? She did, didn’t she! Remember, if she asks to touch your horn- -”
“She didn’t ask to touch my horn! Nopony ever asks to touch my horn…”
“Well, if you didn’t eat so many marshmallows, they probably would.”
“Are you…are you saying I’m heavy?”
“No, darling, I’m saying your fat.”
“Well that’s mean.”
“No it isn’t. We’re sisters, so it’s okay.”
“Well, then, at least I don’t smell like apples.”
Rarity suddenly looked nervous. “I don’t either,” she said. “And if I do, it’s only because before I left I had Big Macintosh here to model some frilly pant…” Rarity trailed off as she sniffed the air. “Actually, that’s not apples at all…it smells…odd.” She sniffed again. “Sweetie Belle, are you wearing perfume?”
“Um…yes?” Sweetie Belle replied nervously, because she knew the smell that Rarity was detecting. She had grown used to it, but Rarity had not. Rarity was smelling the scent of horseradish.
“Well, it’s a poor choice. Two few undertones. If you want to impress that little Apple girl, you need to go with something more fruity with a strong spice element and hints of musk. Trust me, it works AMAZING on the Apples.” Her face scrunched and she cleared her throat. “On Big Macintosh, I mean. Certainly. Not Applejack at all, I wouldn’t know ANYTHING about that.”
“I’m- -I’m not that kind of pony!” cried Sweetie Belle, blushing.
“Darling, our population is eighty six percent female. We are ALL that kind of pony. Except Rainbow Dash, oddly enough.”
“Oh,” said Sweetie Belle, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. “Well, Scootaloo will be disappointed.”
“Half of Equestria will be disappointed,” sighed Rarity. “Oh, the dresses I could make with her as a model…” She paused, and her eyes went to the pot in which the horseradish was sitting. “That’s odd,” she said. “I don’t recall putting a plant here.”
“You don’t? Oh, well, you did. It’s always been there! Definitely!”
“It is?” Rarity seemed confused. “It doesn’t look like something I would add. It doesn’t match the décor at all…although a plant probably would be welcome near the outer perimeter. Although these leaves…” She touched one with her magic, and the whole plant shook in response. Sweetie Belle bit her lower lip, knowing that if Rarity found out, it was a one-way trip to the dungeon. “But these leaves are just so…coarse.”
Her eyes lit up, and she released the plant. Sweetie Belle gave a huge sigh of relief- -until Rarity came back with a pair of scissors.
“It just needs to be pruned a little bit,” she said.
“NO!” cried Sweetie Belle, pulling the scissors out of her magic just as she started to close them around one of the stems.
“SWEETIE BELLE!” cried Rarity. “What has gotten into you? We do not grab in this house! We ask, and say ‘please’. I will never have nieces if you keep acting so rude!”
“Well- -it’s just- -you could get grass stains!”
“Grass stains?” A look of realization crossed Rarity’s face, and she jumped back from the plant. “Sweet Celestia in a velour corset!” she cried, “you’re right! I almost STAINED myself! I- -I could have had GREEN on my immaculate, white coat!” She patted all over her body, trying to find if she really had stained herself. “And they’re so hard to get out!” She then started to trot away. “I’m going to take a baking soda bath, just to make sure!” She paused. “You can join me, if you want.”
“Um, no.”
“Fine. But do something to wash that perfume off. You stink. Also, you’re sweating like an earth-pony. Do something about that. ”
Sweetie Belle just continued to smile and watched Rarity leave. Then, when she was finally gone, she collapsed into the pool of sweat that had been forming below her. “Gahhh,” she said, watching the horseradish poke its head out of the pot it was sitting in. “The things I do for friends…”
That night, long after Sweetie Belle had gone to bed and after Rarity had fallen asleep in the bathtub- -inadvertently assuring that she would be slightly shrunken and highly pruned when she woke up in the morning- -the horseradish crept downstairs.
As a plant, it did not sleep, nor did it understand what sleep even was. In fact, it did not really have the capacity to understand anything, at least not in any way that that would even be comprehensible to a pony. It was devoid of true thought, but capable of volition on some level. Knowing what it was thinking- -or IF it was thinking- -was impossible.
Despite not being alive in an animal sense, though, the horseradish was empirically curious. It wandered down to Rarity’s kitchen, where it immediately came face-to-face with a dark colored stallion who was pinching a loaf right in the middle of the room.
“Um, you didn’t see this,” said the stallion, jumping down off the table and picking up the loaf of pumpernickel in his mouth. He then leapt out an open window into the night.
The horseradish had no conception of whether this was normal or not, and continued on its way. It stopped in front of Rarity’s Frigidmare brand refrigerator. It was new and shiny, and this greatly attracted the horseradish’s attention. It stared at the shiny surface for at least five minutes before reaching for the handle.
When it opened it, a bright light spilled out into the darkened kitchen. The horseradish was momentarily dazzled, but its eyes adapted after a few seconds and it looked up at the contents of the icebox.
If the horseradish truly had the capacity for horror, this emotion immediately swept over it at the sight that greeted it on the other side. There, before it, were numerous plates of food: it saw plates of carrots, their skin peeled away and their taproots sliced into little circles, as well as to large glass jars of pickled beets, each containing what seemed like tens of roots immersed in deep red fluid.
The worst, though, was at the bottom. The horseradish was only inches away from a box that contained potato salad. It shook as it stared into the box, seeing potatoes that had been dismembered and slathered in white colored liquid. This entire refrigerator was filled with filled with murdered and chopped roots.
It took a step back, shaking, not understanding how its friends could have done this- -and afraid that it was next. Then, with tears in its potato-like eyes, it ran out of Carousel Boutique and into the night.
The next day, Scootaloo and Applebloom made their way through Ponyville toward Carousel Boutique. Scootaloo looked as happy as ever, but Applebloom seemed- -and felt- -immensely tired.
“Rough night?” asked Scootaloo.
“I didn’t sleep a wink,” nodded Applebloom. “But I got the soil prepared. It wasn’t at all easy. Especially with what happened with my brother.”
“What happened to Big Mac? Was it the fruit bats again?”
“No. Somepony sent him a box of some weird plant, and it grew all over him and started sucking out his various juices. We had to wrestle him into an apple-cider vinegar bath. He’s been there since yesterday. He’s shrunk six sizes so far.”
“That doesn’t sound fun,” said Scootaloo. “Vampire fruit bats, chupacabras, and now plants…you’re brother sure does get sucked a lot, doesn’t he?”
“Maybe he’s full of sweet, sweet apple juice?” suggested Applebloom.
Scootaloo shrugged, and they both walked into Rarity’s house. The door had been torn free of its hinges, and Applebloom sighed, knowing that Big Macintosh would likely need to fix it once he was a little less vinegary. Other than that, though, neither of them thought of it as being especially strange. It was not unusual for ponies to leave their doors unlocked. Especially Twilight.
“Sweetie Belle?” called Scootaloo. “We’re here for the horser- -”
Applebloom immediately slapped Scootaloo in her filly face. “Quiet! What if Rarity hears?”
“Ow!” gasped Scootaloo, rubbing her face. “She’s in Manehattan, remember? You know, practicing gymnastics on her Pommel horse, remember? Celestia’s hot-buttered rump, Applebloom, you don’t need to scootabuse me!”
“Endanger my horseradish again, and I’ll buck you straight in your adorable face!”
Scootaloo’s wings twitched. “I do have an adorable face, don’t I?”
They walked into the kitchen. As they did, Sweetie Belle walked in from the other side of the room. She, unfortunately, did not look pleasant at all this early in the morning.
“Gah!” cried Applebloom. “Sweetie Belle, what happened to you?”
“I woke up,” muttered Sweetie Belle. She walked to the counter and stood on her hind legs, getting down some coffee and pouring about half a pound of sugar into it. As she did, they were joined by Rarity, who had done her best to not look like a prune with only partial success.
“Miss Rarity!” cried Scootaloo. “You’re not supposed to be here!”
“It’s my house!” cried Rarity. “YOU’RE not supposed to be here!” She muttered to herself as she walked to the open refrigerator. “Fillies walking into my house like it’s some kind of bus station…” She suddenly turned to Sweetie Belle. “Sweetie! Did you leave this door open?”
“No,” said Sweetie Belle, pouring herself a second and larger cup of coffee after having just finished the first. “I just got down here.”
“Well, it didn’t leave itself open! Look, it’s warm inside now! My potato salad is completely RUINED! I was going to eat that, and now I have to give it to Fluttershy!” She grumbled to herself as she took a large jar of pickled beets. She snapped off the lid and started drinking, swallowing the beats whole as they slid into her mouth. Scootaloo found this quite impressive, but Applebloom found it disgusting.
“Eew, Miss Rarity, those are beets!”
“Of course they are! Vinyl makes them, and I must say, she certainly does have a strange knack for beets.”
“I get beets a lot,” sighed Scootaloo.
“Still,” said Rarity, ignoring Scootaloo’s plight, “I don’t know who opened my refrigerator and left it open all night. I mean, it was just me and Sweetie Belle.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders suddenly realized what that implied, and their eyes went wide as they all looked toward each other. Sweetie Belle and Applebloom no longer felt tired.
“Oh, well,” shrugged Rarity, closing the door. “The potato salad would have made me fat anyway. Now, if you excuse me, I am going to dress myself in an extra tight saddle and roll around in silk fabric for forty minutes or so. Any of you three that want to join me can, I have the most ADORABLE little saddles and bridles for fillies.”
“Why do you have to be so WEIRD!” called Sweetie Belle as Rarity left the room. She immediately turned back to her counterparts, though.
“Sweetie Belle,” demanded Applebloom, “where is my horseradish?”
“I don’t know,” said Sweetie Belle. “But he has to be around here somewhere.”
They proceeded to search Rarity’s house, causing severe disruption as they did. It was to no avail, though, as the location of the horseradish remained obscure. When the three fillies regrouped in the frontroom, they stood still before their eyes turned toward the door. It had been open when Applebloom and Scootaloo had arrived.
“You don’t think…”
They all paused for a moment more. “Sweetie Belle,” said Scootaloo, “I think he left.”
“I didn’t do anything! I just went to bed and woke up and he was GONE!”
“He must have seen in the refrigerator,” suggested Scootaloo.
“The refrigerator?” said Applebloom.
Sweetie Belle’s heart sank. “The potato salad! And the cut carrots, and the beets!”
Applebloom gasped and clasped her hooves over her mouth. “He must have thought we were going to try to eat him!”
“But we weren’t!” exclaimed Scootaloo.
“Of course we weren’t going to eat him!” replied Sweetie Belle. “But all those roots in there…”
“He must have felt so betrayed!” Tears were welling in Applebloom’s eyes. “All those roots are like his family, and he had to open that door and see…it would be like me opening the refrigerator and…” She trailed off and shook her head, not wanting to describe the images that were flowing through her mind. “We have to find him and explain!”
“We have no idea where he is! How are we supposed to find him?”
Applebloom thought for a moment. “Well, if I could get Winona, we could track him by smell…” She paused. “But no, Twilight took Winona this morning, said something about alchemy and Gercolt of Ponia and gravy on wings, whatever that means. We don’t have a dog!”
“No,” said Scootaloo. “You have something better. You have ME.”
Applebloom gasped. “You’re right! We’ve gone over this, but nopony smells as strong as Scootaloo smells!”
“That might actually work! Hold on!” Sweetie Belle galloped away from the group and pulled a pleather collar and lead off of one of Rarity’s mannequins. She then slid it around Scootaloo’s neck and tightened it. Then, while holding onto the far end with her magic, Sweetie Belle pointed to the door. “Onward, Scootaloo! Find the horseradish!”
Scootaloo did not disappoint. She led Sweetie Belle and Applebloom through the town, pulling them along by the leash attached to her. At time, this resulted in stares from passerbies, but Sweetie Belle and Applebloom were more focused on looking for horseradish tracks. They did see a few where the ground had been moist, and that only helped them keep Scootaloo on the right path.
The course was meandering, going throughout Ponyville. Most of the path just involved walking around buildings or in damp areas, but in a few places there was some level of destruction. In the town market, for example, the potatomonger’s stall had been vandalized. The crates of potatoes had been broken open, and the potatoes freed. Being potatoes, though, only a few of them had actually bothered to escape. The rest had just lain in the street, slowly taking root.
The path eventually led to the worst possible place. After barely an hour, the Cutie Mark Crusaders found themselves standing at the edge of the EverFree Forest.
“Well buck me in broad daylight and call me an apple tree,” swore Applebloom. “It went in there, didn’t it?”
“My adorable little booper-place doesn’t lie,” said Scootaloo. “It’s in there. Can I have a treat now?”
Sweetie Belle threw Scootaloo a piece of Rarity’s now quite rancid potato salad. Then she steeled herself. “We have to go in there.”
“Yeah,” agreed Applebloom. “The forest isn’t a place for a horseradish! He could get eaten, or stepped on, or encounter soil that’s too damp and encourages root decay!”
“Thing is,” said Sweetie Belle, “we could get eaten or stepped on too.”
“Or get root decay,” said Scootaloo through a mouth full of potato salad. “Rainbow Dash had that once. It was messy. But she didn’t tell anypony because she thought it was embarrassing.”
“I can’t imagine why,” said Sweetie Belle as the trio entered the swampy forest. All around them, the light suddenly dropped off. The canopy of these and the chaotic, fast-moving clouds above them blotted out the sun, leaving the entire place dark and ominous.
“It smell’s a little musty in here,” said Applebloom.
“I know,” said Scootaloo. “I can’t pick up the smell. There’s too many better smells.” She sniffed the ground, and her wings extended suddenly. “See? I smell a beaver!”
She started walking in the direction of the scent, but Sweetie Belle tugged the Scootaloo-leash and pulled her friend back. “This way,” she said.
They quickly moved deeper into the forest, and though none of them admitted it they got lost within four or five minutes of entering. The trees around them seemed to begin to become taller and closer together, with thick, ragged trunks. Likewise, the ground became damper and mustier.
“I know, right?” replied Scootaloo, who was rolling in a bank of the stuff.
“Eew, Scoots, don’t do that! There’s tardigrades in there! And you don’t know where it’s been!”
“It’s moss. It’s been right here. It’s not like it moves.”
“It does, sometimes,” said Applebloom.
“No it doesn’t,” protested Scootaloo.
Applebloom shook her head. “Then you haven’t heard Granny Smith’s stories.”
“You mean about the guy with the weird horn?”
“No, about when they came through this swamp on the way to Ponyville. About how the moss moves in the trees, and how it carried off my uncle Road in the night.”
Sweetie Belle gulped. “What…what happened to him?”
“Nobody knows. Well, until he came back. Apparently it wasn’t hard to fight off moss. But there’s other nasty things in these woods.”
“Like what?” asked Scootaloo.
“Scootaloo! Now is NOT the time to ask that!”
Applebloom, though, continued to tell her story. “Well, there’s the chupacabras, they’ll suck the apple cider clean out of you. And the star spiders, the moon spiders, the GIANT moon spiders. Deer. Fluffy-ponies. The undead, of course, and the walking onions. And Kak Loshad.”
“Kak Loshad?”
Applebloom nodded knowingly. “They say he walks around on two legs so that his hands can be free to catch you, and that he has a long, pointy nose.”
“What- -what does he use the nose for?”
“To sniff out little fillies who can’t run very well.”
“You mean like Sweetie Belle?”
“SCOOTALOO!”
“Exactly like Sweetie Belle! He chases them down, and, well…”
“What? WHAT?!”
Applebloom stopped. “He squeezes the vodka out of them.”
Just then, something made a sound in the brush, and the three fillies suddenly found themselves screaming and running through the swamp at top speed. They were screaming and crying, and at least one of them may or may not have wet themselves. The swamp was a scary place, after all. It was full of strange trees, vicious animals, monsters, and ruins left behind by an assortment of mages, wizards, and other weirdos throughout history.
They eventually slowed and stopped, but only because they reached a barberry bush and slammed headlong into a wall of thorns.
“Gah!” cried Scootaloo. “My beautiful face!”
“They’re in my nose!” cried Sweetie Belle, pulling herself out of the bush.
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” said Applebloom.
“Easy for you to say! Earth-ponies don’t feel pain!”
“I do to feel pain. Whenever Diamond Tiara makes fun of me. Or if I ran into an acacia or maybe a hawthorn. These are just little pickers.” She wiped the branches away from herself.
Sweetie Belle was about to yell some more, but she caught a glimpse of a shadow moving through the boggy forest. She ducked down, pulling Scootaloo and Applebloom with her.
“Sweetie Belle!” cried Scootaloo. “I knew you would come to my side eventually! But bringing in Applebloom too- -”
“Quiet!” hissed Sweetie Belle as she smacked Scootaloo in the kisser.
Now in silence, the three of them watched. In the distance and through the trees, they saw a pony-like shape walking amongst the trees.
“Is that him?” whispered Applebloom.
“I can’t tell,” said Sweetie Belle. “There’s too much mist and junk. But I- -”
A second figure appeared in the distance. She was wearing a hood, but even though the distance Sweetie Belle was able to see that her legs and face were marked with black and white stripes.
“I think that’s Zecora,” she said.
“Zecora!” Applebloom stood up. “Of course! I completely forgot she lives out here!”
“And the fact that you actually come out this way several times a week,” noted Scootaloo.
“She knows all sorts of things about herbs and stuff! I’m sure she’ll be able to help us find the horseradish! Unless that’s it right there already!”
Applebloom raced forward, and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were forced to follow. The ground, though, was wet and swampy and at one point the group had to detour around a patch of poison joke and directly through a patch of poison oak. After what felt like hours, though, they did reach Zecora’s hut.
“This place is weird,” said Scootaloo. “And my insides are itchy. It must be cursed!”
“You’re itchy because you couldn’t stop eating the poison oak. Self-control, Scootaloo, come on!”
“Well, let’s hope a Zecora has a cream for that. Or we’ll be the three ichiest fillies in all of Equestria.”
“And something for food poisoning,” said Scootaloo as her stomach rumbled. “Because I’m about half an hour away from that potato salad pretending it’s King Sombra and coming back from the dead.”
“Only if it’s not too expensive,” said Applebloom, pushing open the door.
They all immediately gasped when they saw the sight in the hut. Zecora stared back at them, wide-eyed and standing over a large cauldron. In the iron pot sat the horseradish, watching them from the rim.
“Zecora!” shrieked Applebloom. “You’re cooking our friend! How could you!?”
Zecora rolled her eyes. “Little Applebloom, stop with this din. I’m so very tired of ponies thinking I’m boiling their kin.”
“Oh, cool, she really does rhyme!” said Scootaloo, excitedly.
“I am a Zebra shaman, or perhaps a witch. Of course I rhyme, you little bit- -”
“So you’re not cooking him?”
“It’s just a soak, there’s no need to hate. He had grown tired wandering and begun to dehydrate!”
“Dehydrating? Oh no!” Applebloom ran to the side of the cauldron.
“Then why does it smell like soup in here?” asked Sweetie Belle.
Zecora’s eyes narrowed. “Little filly, don’t defy me, and don’t be crass, or else I will shove my zebra leg squarely up you’re a- -”
“I’m just so glad you’re okay!” said Applebloom. She reached out her legs, and the horseradish, instead of stretching out its front legs in return, it retreated into the pot. Applebloom looked hurt. “Hey! Where are you going?”
Zecora sighed. “I’m afraid that when I found him, he was in a panicked state. Apparently he perceived himself about to meet a dire fate.”
“Wait, you can speak horseradish?” said Scootaloo.
“In ancient times, little Scoots, zebrakind knew that this was the most noble of roots.”
“You cheated on that one,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Do you think these rhymes are pure luck? Sometimes they come out bad, but I don’t give a fu- -”
“He must have seen the food in Rarity’s refrigerator,” said Applebloom. “Horseradish, I’m sorry! We’re not trying to hurt you! We don’t want to eat you at all!”
“Zecora might,” muttered Sweetie Belle.
Zecora dropped the large wooden spoon she was holding and stomped over to Sweetie Belle. “You think you are cute, hmm, like a baby plover? This zebra will make good on her promise, so get on your knees and BEND OVER!”
“Zecora!” Applebloom was on the verge of tears. “Why is he so afraid of me now?”
Zecora stopped just short of reaching Sweetie Belle. “To know that answer, you must understand the past. Of the horseradish kind, I am afraid this might be the last.”
“The last? But- -but why?”
Zecora paused for a moment, her expression becoming more serious. “Because so long ago, they were much prized by wizard and mage. They were hunted and ground, and so many died that none reached this age.”
“They…they ground them?”
Zecora nodded. “This root is stronger than any leaf or flower. To bind elements in alchemy, there is no ingredient with more power.” She paused. “I’ve considered it, and you’ve surely had notions of what good this walking root could do for your potions?”
“No,” said Applebloom without hesitation. “I would never do that! I grew him up from when he was a little sprout, and I’ve been working my darndest over the last few days to make sure he stays safe!”
“Yeah!” said Scootaloo. “He’s not just a root! We spent all of yesterday playing with him! And it was so much fun! He’s our friend!”
“A friend, you say, but are you sure? Can you really be such with one of his nature?”
Sweetie Belle stepped forward. “He listens, and he understands things! Yes, he is!” She turned to the cauldron, where the horseradish’s head was poking out. He was watching her. “But, Applebloom, we have to accept it. That maybe he doesn’t want to come back.”
“No!” cried Applebloom. “Sweetie Belle, don’t say that!”
“You saw what was in that refrigerator. Yes. We really DO eat roots.”
“I ate part of a potato a few minutes ago,” admitted Sweetie Belle. She groaned as her stomach rumbled from the rancid mayonnaise that had covered said potato. “And, yeah. I’m pretty much dead now.” She collapsed onto the floor, but the others ignored her.
“It’s not fair to him to ask him to come back, knowing that we do that.”
“But those aren’t like him!”
“But what if they are? What if the difference between a horseradish and a yam is like…like the difference between a pony and a zebra?”
“I believe that comment is a bit racist,” said Zecora. She took a step forward. “Say goodbye to your rump, and ensure that it has been kissed…”
“But what if that IS the way it is?”
The room fell silent, apart from the groans of agony as Scootaloo rolled on the floor.
“You’re…you’re right,” said Applebloom at last. She turned to the horseradish. “I’m sorry, horseradish. But…” She just sighed. “We’re terrible ponies, aren’t we? But we really do think of you as a friend, and we want you to stay with us. But we do eat other roots. It’s just something ponies do. So…” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I understand if you want to stay here with Zecora. Or just go live in a hole somewhere. Just know that it was…if was fun while it lasted.”
Applebloom turned away and started walking. When it became apparent that the horseradish was going to stay in the pot, they both turned away with tears and their eyes and went to the door. Just as they had opened it, though, a strange sound filled the air. It was something like a strangely musical squeak, as though several mice were singing in a choir but doing it badly.
Both Sweetie Belle and Applebloom turned around, and saw the horseradish extending its front limbs over the edge of the pot toward them. It was too small to get out on its own, though, so its legs just sort of waved. It was the horseradish, though, that had made that sound.
“You…you can make SOUND?” said Applebloom in amazement. “And…and you still want to come with us?”
The horseradish nodded vigorously and squeaked again. Applebloom burst out in tears and raced toward the horseradish, pulling it out of the strangely delicious smelling water that it was “soaking” in. “So you really are my friend! And I promise, I’ll never eat a carrot or a potato or an onion again! Just apples from now on!”
“And I don’t eat vegetables anyway,” said Sweetie Belle. “They’re gross. But not you, though! You’re an okay vegetable.”
They laughed, then turned to Zecora. “Thanks for your help, Zecora!”
“Ponies rarely come out here on visits,” replied Zecora. “So it was nice that I could be of assistance to you little shi- -”
She was interrupted as the horseradish squeaked and hugged her. She could not come up with a rhyme fast enough to mention how bizarre it was to be hugged by something that resembled a pony but was actual a tuber before it released her and left with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle.
“Hmm,” groaned Zecora after several long minutes. “It seems they have stolen the key to my brew.” Below her, Scootaloo- -who the others had forgotten- -moaned loudly. She had started to cry from the pain. Zecora smiled and picked her up. “But I think in its place, a Pegasus will do!”
The then tossed Scootaloo in the pot and went back to stirring it.
The path leading from Zecora’s house to Ponyville led to the town’s farming district, in a place that was not far from Sweet Apple Acres.
“I did finish the dirt, though,” said Applebloom. She poked the horseradish in the shoulder. “So no I have a nice place for you to live! We can give you a garden bed out in the far fields, or pot you if you prefer.”
“I think he likes pots,” said Sweetie Belle. “Actually, Rarity has a really nice one. I bet I can pinch it. If he has to live in dirt, he might as well look pretty.”
They approached a windbreak, but suddenly stopped. All three of them looked around.
“Uh, where is Scootaloo?” asked Applebloom.
“I thought you had her,” replied Sweetie Belle. She looked around but did not see her friend. “Well, that’s just great! Now there are only TWO Cutie Mark Crusaders! We’re dropping like fly!”
“She’s probably back at Zecora’s,” sighed Applebloom. “We have to go get her.”
“But we just spent two hours walking this far! Look how tired the horseradish is!” They looked, and he was indeed tired. His leaves were wilting, and he seemed to be breathing hard out of whatever aperture he used for gas exchange. “I don’t think he can make it all the way back without getting dehydrated again!”
“Me neither,” said Applebloom. “But we can’t just leave her there.”
“Why? It’s not like, you know, anypony would notice.”
“We need cream for that poison oak anyway. I’m starting to get REAL itchy.”
“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle, slowly acquiescing. “You’re right. I’m pretty itchy too. And Scootaloo is really, really, REALLY adorable. I mean, have you seen her little tiny wings? They look so soft! I just want to grab them and- -”
“Sweetie Belle?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re making this weird.”
“Oh,” said Sweetie Belle, blushing. “Sorry.”
“Besides, I thought you liked earth-ponies.”
“What?”
Applebloom’s face scrunched. “I said that we should probably let the horseradish stay here until we get back. You know, sit in the shade. Maybe get some water from the irrigation channel.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
They both turned to the horseradish. “You need to stay here,” said Applebloom. “Nopony comes out here, so just stay put until we get back.”
“Do you understand?” asked Sweetie Belle.
The horseradish paused for a moment, and then nodded vigorously.
“Great!” said Applebloom as she and Sweetie Belle galloped off back in the direction they had come. “We’ll be back in a half hour! Then we can get you some water and take you back home!”
The horseradish watched them go and waved as they did. This continued until they were out of range, and actually for several minutes afterward before the horseradish simply sat down in the shade and waited patiently.
It had waited for nearly the entire thirty minutes before it perceived something rustling in the plants near it. It turned, and was greeted by the smiling face of a small herding dog. Winona looked at the horseradish and let out several cheerful barks. The horseradish reciprocated by reaching out and hugging the adorable dog. Winona did not seem to mind, as she was indeed quite adorable and had grown accustomed to being hugged by ponies and pony-like organisms. The horseradish, likewise, was gentle and seemed to enjoy getting to hug a puppy as much as the puppy enjoyed being hugged.
Then something else rustled in the bushes. The horseradish looked up, and Spike emerged.
“Oh, finally,” he sighed. Then, calling behind him, “hey! Twilight! Winona found it! It’s over here!”
There was much more substantial rustling, and then suddenly Twilight appeared. The looked at the horseradish and then burst out laughing.
“It’s real! It’s actually REAL!” she cried. “Finally! After all these…several hours, I guess.” She reached out to the horseradish. “Here horseradish! Here boy!”
“It’s not a dog,” said Spike. “But I…um…actually I don’t know what it is at all.”
“Why don’t you come with me, horseradish?” said Twilight. “You’re going to help me with my potions!”
The horseradish, not being capable of understanding the danger that it was in, nodded happily, glad to be making a new friend. It then followed Twilight as she led it away from the place that the Cutie Mark Crusaders had told it to wait.
When the Cutie Mark Crusaders did return minutes later, Scootaloo was not in the best of shapes. She was pale and smelled like soup, and walked with a bit of a wobble.
“Oh…what happened to me?” she groaned.
“How should we know?” asked Sweetie Belle. “We weren’t there.”
“I feel like a teabag. Or a duty clam.”
“You wouldn’t be used in chowder,” said Applebloom matter-of-factly. “You would be in some chicken noodle soup.”
The three of them returned to where they had left the horseradish. Upon arrival, though, they found that it was missing.
“Where did he go?” asked Applebloom, a tone of panic rising in her voice. “Sweetie Belle, where did he go?!”
“Calm down. It probably wandered around. It’s probably nearby, or down at the channel.”
They then spent another half hour looking around, but to no avail. None of them found it. The horseradish was gone.
“I can’t find him! I can’t find HIM!”
“Applebloom calm down!”
“Sweetie Belle calm down!” groaned Scootaloo. “Ugh. I have a headache! It’s like the one I get the next morning after Rainbow Dash makes me drink cider until I go to sleep.”
“Are you fillies looking for something?” A head poked through the windbreak, and the three fillies screamed in surprise. Then they realized that they were looking at a turquoise unicorn, her body painted with camouflage.
“Lyra Heartstrings?” said Sweetie Belle, recalling having seen the mare around town from time to time. “What are you doing here?”
“I have a farming plot out here,” she said.
“Farming?” said Applebloom. “Farming what?”
“Secret things. Hence the camo. You know. Fingerlings, hardy palm trees, sarcodactylis, that sort of thing. And I don’t mean to harp on the subject, but it is a SECRET. If Bon Bon figures out the what I’m doing…”
“But you said you saw something?”
“No, I asked if you were looking for something.”
“We…are.”
“What is it, then?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Ah. Touché. I was figuring you meant the horseradish.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders collectively gasped. Scootaloo choked on hers. “How- -how did you know about that?” asked Applebloom.
“Because I set up cameras all over town. To catch Kak Loshad and to steal his secrets. I mean, what did you think I was doing in the background of, like, every shot?”
“Well, where did it go, then?”
“The background?”
“No, the horseradish!”
“Oh. Old false-god Twilight came and took it. They went back to her castle, I think. Or that’s at least the direction they went.”
“Twilight?” Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo all looked at each other, and then immediately started sprinting.
They ran all the way to the center of Ponyville, and to the Castle of Harmony. Each of them knew exactly what was at stake, and the danger their friend was in. Twilight was known for her research into science and her knowledge of potions and magic, and the fillies knew what she could do if she got her hooves on the horseradish. Each of them hoped in their hearts that Twilight would not do anything rash, but deep down, all of them knew exactly why she had taken the plant.
When they reached the castle, Sweetie Belle was nearly unable to catch her breath. She was not physically fit by any means, but had done her best to keep up with Scootaloo and Applebloom.
“Sweetie Belle, are you okay?” said Applebloom, helping her friend.
“I’m- -fine- -I just- -we have to- -”
“We have to get to Twilight,” said Scootaloo, racing past them.
Sweetie Belle felt as though she were about to pass out, but she still got up and rounded the corner to find an entire case of stairs. She swore loudly, and continued to do so as she tried to follow Applebloom up the stairwell. Applebloom normally would have found Sweetie Belle’s reaction to physical exertion hilarious, but she did not have time to laugh now.
It took them some time, but the three fillies eventually found Twilight’s lab. A strange smell filled the air. The horseradish had definitely been here, and probably still was, but the smell was somehow different and far stronger than any of them remembered.
They threw open the door and the smell wafted out one hundred times stronger than it had been in the hall. As each of them looked in, they knew that they had arrived too late.
Twilight was across from them, standing over a large table. She was dressed in an apron, which was now spattered with plant material. Before her was the mess that had once been a horseradish. The pieces had been cut apart into thin slices. The limbs had been removed completely and peeled completely, although they were still held to the shackles that had immobilized the horseradish when it had been alive. Twilight was still holding the cleaver, but it was apparent that she had already run at least half of the horseradish through a grinding machine.
“Oh, hey girls!” she said, flipping off the machine and smiling gleefully. “You’re just in time! I know you all have your cutie marks, but how about helping me weigh out some storage portions? Huh? It’ll be fun!”
“Yeah,” said Spike, who was eating a bunned carrot. “And it’s delicious on dogs!”
The Crusaders just gaped, until Applebloom stepped forward. On the ground in front of the table were the horseradish’s leaves. They had been tossed away carelessly, and were now inert and wilting. Shaking, Applebloom picked them up. “You…you killed him,” she said.
“We’ll, it’s not a ‘him’,” corrected Twilight, “but yes, it is quite dead. It sure put up a fight, too. But now look how much reagent I have for my potions! I can share some with you, if you want. Or we can make them together! I know how much you like that sort of thing.”
Applebloom looked up at Twilight with tears streaming down her face. “You…you murdered our friend…”
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo could no longer contain themselves. They had been in a state of shock, not letting themselves believe that what they were seeing was real. But when Applebloom had said it, they both knew that it was, and both burst into tears. Applebloom immediately joined them, clutching the horseradish’s leaves to her chest
Twilight jumped back, surprised. “Spike! I don’t know what is happening!”
“He- -he didn’t even have a NAME!” sobbed Applebloom.
“And I- -I never even got to tell him about Rainbow Dash!” wailed Scootaloo. “And I- -I was going to CUDDLE him! I thought he was cute! And I didn’t even tell him!”
“I had a pot picked out and everything,” said Sweetie Belle, quietly. “He was going to be so pretty.”
They then began to cry even louder, and Scootaloo suddenly stamped forward. “Twilight! Fix this! FIX HIM!”
“I can’t!” said Twilight. “I already cut it up! I don’t understand why you’re like this! It was just a root!”
“You’re a root!” screamed Sweetie Belle. It was a terrible insult, but it was all she could think of. She could not take her eyes off the table. He was still there, lying in pieces, slowly oxidizing. There was no motion, and no signs of life. True, he had not been a real pony, but less than an hour earlier he had been walking around, squeaking, and hugging.
Thinking about the hugs only made Sweetie Belle cry harder, and she had planned a tirade of insults against Twilight, but none of them came to fruition. Scootaloo, likewise, felt her anger deflate when she realized that there really was nothing she could do. Applebloom had mostly fallen silent, still hugging the leaves and wishing that she could give anything to take back what Twilight had done.
They continued to cry until they slowed slightly, all looking up as a door in the rear of the preparation laboratory opened. A pale violet-colored pony covered in soot and grime walked through.
“So, Twilight,” said Starlight, turning around to close the door. “I got the chaurus out of the basement and the ducts on the east wing, but there’s a problem. They weren’t the only thing down there. Looks like there’s snorks too. A lot of snorks. And not the little cute ones.”
She turned and saw Twilight dressed in an apron standing over the body of a gutted horseradish, and three fillies weeping in front of her next to Spike, who was still hesitantly eating his bunned carrot with horseradish sauce.
“Twilight, what is going on here?”
“These fillies! They’re crying, and I don’t know what to do!”
“Well, what did you do?”
“Me?! I didn’t do anything! They just walked in while I was preparing reagents- -”
“She cut up our friend!” cried Sweetie Belle.
Starlight looked down at the mess and realized that it still had a vaguely ponyesque shape.
“Twilight, what was that?” she demanded.
“Just some vegetables, I was- -”
“Don’t you lie to me, Twilight.”
Twilight looked at the remains, and then at Starlight. “It was a horseradish.”
Starlight’s eyes widened in shock. “Bloody Tartarus, Twilight, you cut up their horseradish right in front of them? You know those things can feel pain, right?”
This news made the Cutie Mark Crusaders only wail louder. Applebloom grew pale and nearly fainted.
“Well, that explains the screaming,” said Twilight. “Although I would say it was more like terrified squeaking.” She chuckled. “Normal radishes certainly don’t do that when you cut into them!”
Starlight smacked Twilight over the back of the head.
“Ow!” cried Twilight. “You Gibbs-slapped me!”
“Well you deserve it! Horseradishes are sentient creatures, with feelings and dreams and aspirations! And, great job, you just killed one. Probably one of the very LAST of them!”
“But horseradishes are dangerous creatures that hate ponies!”
“Well, sure, if you read all the mage accounts and secondary sources, but that’s all propaganda! Did you even read Roothugger the Green’s account? Or Tuber Talker’s annotated herbarium? Or please, PLEASE tell me at least LOOKED at Fellina Hole the Unlucky’s guide to helpful forest creatures?”
Twilight’s face scrunched. “Well, I was going to get to them, but I was in a hurry, and I prioritized based on alchemical experience- -”
“Don’t tell me you were reading the Gercolt journals? That guy was a psycho! With a thing for redheads, but that’s beside the point! Twilight, that was a sensitive, gentle creature!”
Applebloom touched one of Starlight’s front knees. Starlight looked down, and saw the tear-soaked pony holding the crown leaves of the plant. “Starlight, can…can you help him?”
Starlight took a deep breath, and held out her hoof. “I can try.”
Hesitantly, Applebloom gave her the leaves. Starlight turned them over again and again, inspecting the base carefully. After searching for a few minutes, she did not find what she was looking for and prepared herself to have to tell a little filly that Twilight had just killed her friend.
Then she found it. At the base of the greens, there was a spot where Twilight had made a sloppy cut. Part of the root was still clinging to it, and looking closely, Starlight saw that there was still a bud still attached.
“Spike!” she said, causing the dragon to jump. “I need sulfur powder NOW! And get me the Murashige-Skoog, I’m going to need it.”
“Is he going to be okay?” asked Applebloom.
“I’m going to do my best,” said Starlight. “But this isn’t going to be easy. I can’t make any promises. I’m sorry, but this injury is really, really bad. There are no written records of a horseradish coming back from this. He might not make it.”
“He will,” said Scootaloo. “He has to.”
Starlight looked into their eyes and nodded, wishing that she could share their optimism. Then she took the greens to a clear table and went to work.
Applebloom threw open the door to the Cutie Mark Crusader’s club house and threw down her saddle bags. She immediately ran across it, gathering several items as she went, and slid across the floor to come to a stop at one of the treehouse’s windows.
Carefully, she lifted a tiny watering can and sprinkled just the correct amount of water onto the specially prepared soil in a small violet-glazed pot. Once the water was added, she removed a tiny fleck of the soil and dropped it in a small glass tube, checking the pH. It was at about this time that Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle arrived.
They did not enter the tree house quickly, nor with nearly as much enthusiasm as Applebloom. In fact, they looked somewhat somber, and, upon seeing Applebloom once again at the window, they turned to each other and exchanged knowing glances.
“Do you want to tell her?” asked Scootaloo.
“No,” said Sweetie Belle, “but I think I have to.”
Sweetie Belle walked slowly toward her friend. “Applebloom?” she said. “It’s…” She sighed, and then took a deep breath. She did not want to admit it either, but she just could not maintain the hope any longer. “It’s been five weeks.”
“Five weeks, two days, fourteen hours and…” Applebloom checked a clock nearby. “Five minutes.”
“And you know what Starlight said.”
“Starlight isn’t a botanist.”
“Neither are you,” said Scootaloo, standing beside Sweetie Belle.
The room fell silent, and after a long and painful pause, Sweetie Belle continued. “She said that the root node she saved was very small. And that if it survived, it would come up in two weeks.”
“And it’s been a lot longer than that,” said Scootaloo.
Applebloom turned around, and she had tears in her eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that we tried, Applebloom. “But it just didn’t work. The cutting was too small. He’s…he’s not- -”
“Don’t say it!” shouted Applebloom. “He IS coming back! I know he is! I grew him once, and I can grow him again!”
“No, you can’t!” said Sweetie Belle firmly. “That pot is empty! There’s nothing alive in there anymore! He’s gone, Applebloom!” She felt her own face growing hot with tears, and she wiped them away. Five weeks, and she was still crying. She wanted to move on.
“You…you both think that?”
“I don’t know what I think,” said Scootaloo. “But you and I both know. No matter how hard we wish it…the dead don’t come back.”
“But he’s not dead! Not yet! Not if I keep caring for him!”
Applebloom turned back to the pot and stared at it for a long moment. It was true, she knew. Too much time had passed, and nothing had sprouted. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had to keep herself from digging into the soil, because she knew that if she did, whatever root system the horseradish had established would be destroyed.
There was nothing there. For the first time, Applebloom comprehended the fact that she might never come home from school to find a green shoot coming from that pot. That the horseradish might never return.
“I…I understand,” she said.
“Come on,” said Sweetie Belle. “Let’s go for a walk. We can get ice cream. I’ll even pay for it. You’d like that?”
“I would,” said Scootaloo.
“So would I,” admitted Applebloom.
They started walking toward the door, and Applebloom looked back one more time. When she did, though, something caught her eye.
“Wait a minute!” she said, running across the floor.
“Applebloom!” sighed Sweetie Belle, “we just went over this!”
“No, no look! LOOK!” cried Applebloom.
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo both crossed the room. They had experienced this before. Sometimes Applebloom would thing she saw a shoot or a sprig, only for it to turn out to be a piece of soil or a small fleck of fertilizer. They both looked in, expecting once again to see nothing.
Instead, though, they both instantly realized that they saw a tiny green nub emerging from the pot. Then, before their eyes, it stretched upward into the light and unfurled into a single green leaf. Only a second later, the soil below began to move. As they watched, a tiny horseradish climbed through the surface and into the light.
“I told you! I told you!” screamed Applebloom.
“Slap my butt and call me Fluttershy,” swore Sweetie Belle.
Without taking her eyes off the pot, Scootaloo slapped Sweetie Belle’s rump. “Fluttershy,” she said distantly.
Applebloom stared down at the horseradish. The pot it was in only had a five-inch wide mouth, and the expanse of soil looked huge compared to the horseradish. It must not have been more than two inches across, and yet it looked just like a miniature version of what it had once been.
Carefully, Applebloom stuck her hoof into the pot. The horseradish looked at it, confused, but did not otherwise react.
“He doesn’t recognize us,” said Sweetie Belle, her mood immediately falling. “What if- -what if he’s not the same horseradish he used to be? If he doesn’t remember?”
“There’s a way to find out,” said Scootaloo. She reached up onto a shelf and brought down a water-damaged record. She slowly crossed the room as the other two fillies watched and put it on a portable phonograph. She set the needle with her teeth, and the tune began to start playing.
All of them looked to the horseradish, and it continued to do nothing. There was no response- -at first. Then, slowly, it leaned to one side. Then the other. Then it gathered enough force to begin rocking to one side, jumping twice, and then rocking to the other and repeating the action.
The Crusaders burst out laughing, even though they were all crying too.
“It’s him! It’s really him!” cried Applebloom.
The horseradish looked up at her, and seemed to smile before its eyes widened with shock as it fell to the side, landing in the cushy dirt below.
“Oop! Let me help you!” Applebloom reached in to the pot and very gently picked up the horseradish. It righted itself on her hoof, and then knelt down and hugged it.
“You’re back,” she said.
The horseradish nodded. Their friend had returned to them, and all three of the fillies could tell that he did not intend to leave them again. ~1.>��>\U`
