Perhaps It's Part of the Forest's Magic
It’s only when Twist bites into breakfast that she remembers what happened yesterday.
Her sister must have baked these scones early this morning, for breaking into them no longer releases piping-hot steam like ones straight from the oven. The customary note sitting alongside them repeats the usual message, for Twist to brush her teeth after breakfast and to make sure to put extra pencils in her school bag. Below her sister's proclamation that she’ll be back from work as soon as she can, the y in Candy Mane swoops into a heart. That’s all normal, and nothing to start at.
But the apples within the golden-brown crumb are.
Twist’s jaw halts in place, only distantly hearing the partially-eaten scone fall from her hoof and onto the table. Yesterday was Wednesday. The day before that was the Ponyville Schoolhouse election for student president. Everything was fine; Pipsqueak won, which was better than the alternative. And then Diamond Tiara acted weird, like she didn’t actually want to be mean anymore. And then, and then--
While forcing what remains in her mouth down, Twist slides off her chair and shuffles toward the door. It probably doesn't matter if she skips brushing for one day, right? Definitely won't make a difference if that brushing entailed her hair in any fashion. She grabs her school bag and plops it on her back in the same practiced motion that turns the door handle open. Then she walks out and closes the door behind her, her expression betraying nothing save for a furrowed brow blocked by her frames.
Twist doesn’t mean to be this way: it's just been bothering her for a while. A long while, truthfully. Don’t get her wrong--she's happy for the three of them! Even if Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon have decided to be sweet now, Twist still remembers her skin searing from the acidic insults they doled out, even after she got her cutie mark--they just made fun of her suggestion for the broken window, for one! So she wouldn’t wish such a sour state upon anypony, cutie mark or no.
Especially not Apple Bloom.
Twist only makes it to the end of her street before she reaches into her school bag and draws out an unsharpened pencil. With all the excitement from the past couple of days, she hasn’t been able to really obsess over her thoughts like she usually does. While she’s sure her dentist would appreciate that temporary reprieve from mindless chewing, Twist can’t be bothered to care, and she gnaws on the eraser end of the pencil.
She used to make candy sticks to chew. The entire process fascinates her, from pouring the molten sugar into even lines to sometimes twirling their hues into curled canes. And ponies were always so happy to eat them, their smiles sweeter than any treat! That’s why she thought it was a smart idea, all those months and years ago, when that heavy frown continued to weigh upon Apple Bloom no matter what Twist did. Something to cheer her friend up. Something to let her know she wasn’t alone!
Making those candy canes was a lot of fun within the moment: Twist had never tried flavoring them with apples, never attempted emulating that iconic round shape. So unlike the peppermint sticks that didn’t seem to budge that downturned mouth even a smidge. That’s when it happened. A floating sensation like walking upon spun sugar, a flash that warmed her as much as Candy Mane’s baked goods, a singular moment where everything felt so startling right.
Then Twist had a cutie mark.
It doesn’t take much concentration on Twist’s part to make her way through the rest of Ponyville’s streets. Ahead, the familiar path to the schoolhouse looms. When she left home, the kitchen clock said 7:05 AM, that remaining hour or so giving plenty of time to get to class. Twist only pauses a moment before she veers off the path completely, moving quickly to avoid being spotted.
Something a less distracted pony might describe as a thrill rushes through Twist while she cuts through the grass. She’s never skipped school before, not even when she first found herself without a best friend by her side. After all, even the most boring of lessons became engaging enough when taught with Miss Cheerilee’s enthusiasm, and the classmates that regularly talked to her made the time fly fast. Plus, she’s never considered herself a rule-breaker! But the thought of walking through that door like everything’s fine makes Twist grind her teeth down, completely severing eraser from wood. She spits out the pink lump as treetops break over the horizon.
She can’t remember when she first started coming out here, on the outskirts of Sweet Apple Acres’ boundaries. A long time ago, the Apples must have grown their crops here, if Twist recalls Granny Smith’s presentation on their land acquisition correctly. But surely they ceased tending this area for the same reason Twist seeks it out: the neglected growth butts up against the gnarled trees of the Everfree.
Perhaps it’s part of the forest’s magic, but lots of different plants grow along this border. Speedwell spills across clustered clover, gracing the green with vivid violet. Fiddleheads unfurl over wide watercress leaves like living streamers. And, in certain spots, bright blossoms of buttercups mingle with mint. Occasionally, Twist will take a sprig or two of the mint; whether chewed or cooked, the herbs grown here are surprisingly exhilarating, never failing to perk her up when she’s feeling ragged. But something in her mostly-empty stomach turns at the thought of further food, so Twist takes to simply settling down amongst the nest of growths.
It’s nice, this quiet. Ponies might argue that trait makes it difficult for one to focus on anything but their thoughts, but Twist disagrees. Usually, all her thoughts are so intimately connected to others--from how to please them or ease their burdens--that the only way they’re quiet is the absence of everypony entirely. So she sighs and closes her eyes, just for a little while. Bit by bit, she can feel herself give into relaxation, the aromatic scent in the air pushing her concentration away from everything save the pencil she still chews on.
As such, Twist misses the subtle change in the breeze, until: “Oh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t expecting somepony to be here.”
“AH--!” Pencil falling from her mouth, Twist feels her eyes fly open on their own accord. Somehow, the sun's significantly changed angles since she’s gotten here, slanting well past the apex of the sky to face toward the west. The wild plants are cast in the gentle glow of mid-afternoon, their many shades leaning toward gold.
That warm hue is why Twist almost misses her.
Catty-corner to Twist is a mare. Standing upon long legs, her cream coat possesses just a hint of caramel. Yet her mane veers in a more vibrant direction, tangerine and tangled like Twist's. A smattering of freckles surround her widened eyes, their blue briefly blotting out when she blinks. Her pale eyelashes catch the light as she covers her mouth with her hoof.
"Ah dear, I didn't mean to scare you, sweetie!" A shaky laugh leaves the mare. "Honest. It's just, in all the time I've been coming out here to think, I've never seen another pony. Judging by your reaction, you're about the same, aren't you?"
It takes a moment for Twist to register that the mare had started speaking, and another to realize that she was addressing her, leaving her scrambling. “A-Ah, well, I’m sorry, ma’am! I didn’t realize this spot was taken, it’s so overgrown that I just assumed… Well, doesn’t matter. I didn’t mean to be a nuisance on your day.”
Twist begins rising to her hooves when the mare answers. “No, it’s okay, you don't have to leave! I’m glad somepony else can appreciate greenery like this. My papa always mowed stuff like this down, but I’ve always thought it nice, seeing how Everfree-tinged plants grow all on their own.”
“Yes, ma'am, I love it here.” Twist's syllables all jumble together from a newfound anxious excitement, but she continues regardless. “None of the farms around here grow mint, for one, and my sister always complains about how expensive it is to import it. Oh, that must mean you're a farmer, though, aren't you?"
The corners of the mare's eyes crinkle as she smiles. "No need for the 'ma'am': Buttercup will do. As for your question, Papa owned a farm here a long time ago. Eventually, he moved on, so the Apples took his vacant land. Pardon me asking, but may I sit down?"
"S-Sure, why not?" Twist automatically goes to chew on her pencil, but her teeth click together on the empty space. "It's not my land, and I guess I have been sitting here all by myself for a while, haha."
"Thank you kindly," Buttercup replies, noiselessly lowering herself to the ground with practiced grace. In her new position, Buttercup's namesake flowers wreath the coils and curls of her mane, petals orange-tinged by the sunrays shimmering along the strands. Such a simple illusion gives Buttercup a magical--no, ethereal--air, and Twist openly stares.
Then she remembers herself and the long stretch of time that elapsed since Buttercup sat down, and her face begins to heat. "Twist. I mean, I'm sorry, my name is Twist, like what you do with a doorknob or storyline or candy o-or I guess anything you want. That's me, I guess. Highly applicable.”
A huff escapes Buttercup. “Applicable? That’s a mighty big word for a little filly to be labeling herself, ain’t it?”
Normally, Twist might’ve been worried that such a comment came from a place of derision, but Buttercup’s expression betrays no ill will, still graced with a gentle, upturned mouth. “Y-Yeah, I guess it is. Miss Cheerilee always says I’m good with reading comprehension tests, though you kinda have to be handy with words if you’re following recipes. Besides, learning new ways to talk is fun, even if it doesn’t always come out right when I try them.”
“Well, I think you’re a very well-spoken filly, darlin'. I always thought I needed to lose my accent, ‘cause almost all my classmates didn’t have one nearly as noticeable. But, eventually, I learned to love the difference. I didn’t have an understanding teacher like Cheerliee, given she was much after my time, but I managed.”
“Wow, but you don’t look much older than she does!” Twist immediately shrinks into herself. “Ah, shoot, that was super rude, I’m sorry! My sister always says ‘you should never comment on a lady’s age’, but I don’t really get what the big deal is, that much.”
Fortunately, instead of offense, that draws a full laughing fit out of Buttercup. As she instinctively leans forward, her face is obscured by how her mane bounces from amusement. When the giggles subside and she sits back up, her cheeks are blotchy red.
“Ah, dear, pardon me, hun! That’s very sweet of you to say. I remember when Cheerilee was barely able to run around in that bobbing way toddlers do, though I haven’t spoken with her in quite some time. I’m glad to hear she’s found a good place for herself, and a wonderful student, to boot.” Buttercup only pauses a moment before continuing. “But you have a sister, do you? What’s she like?”
Twist feels like there was something about what Buttercup just said that seemed strange--she certainly doesn’t look like she could have been much older than Miss Cheerilee that long ago. But Twist can feel Candy Mane’s chastising words lurk in the back of her brain, and she thinks she shouldn’t risk any more social blunders, even if Buttercup doesn’t mind. So she focuses on the new question, instead.
“Yeah, her name is Candy Mane. But she's all grown up now. Works in supply chain management, specifically in the dessert industry. It suits her, I think: she’s always been good at schmoozing ponies, and excelling at social interactions is what her cutie mark represents. She works a lot with my Auntie Bon Bon and her candy store. Oh, and with Sugarcube Corner, of course, but everyone knows the Cakes.”
Briefly, Twist sees something waver in Buttercup’s eyes, but it disappears when she blinks. “Of course I know the Cakes, and most of the ponies who work with them. Well, I mostly know Chiffon, though I don’t suppose that’s what she goes by anymore. She was the one who opened the bakery, all by herself all those years ago.”
Buttercup abruptly snorts. “Why, I remember when she was registering the business--she couldn’t think of a name! Somehow, it didn’t occur to her as a priority, with how focused she was working with the architects to build the darn place. Well, she went on and asked me what to call it, can you believe it? And I’ve always been fond of little pet names, so I suggested ‘sugarcube’ as a joke! Well, you can guess that she liked that angle a lot, so the name stuck.”
Sugarcube. Why did that sound familiar? Honestly, Twist is probably overanalyzing this casual conversation way more than necessary, but… Buttercup seems to know an awful lot of ponies present in Twist’s life, yet she’s never seen her before today. Ponyville isn’t that big of a town, is it?
Twist starts as she realizes Buttercup is staring at her expectantly. “Ah, I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“Is it just you and your sister and aunt?” Buttercup repeats.
“Wha--oh, Bon Bon’s not actually my aunt. Candy Mane says it’s polite to refer to her that way since she’s done a lot for us over the years. It’s really just me and Candy Mane. Our father, well, he wasn’t ever around, so I dunno who he is. And my mom died a long time ago. I don’t remember her very well ‘cause I was pretty little, but that doesn’t matter much to schoolyard jerks. It’s like they have a sixth sense for orphans or something. I dunno why there would be a sixth sense for that but how else would they be able to--”
“That’s horrid,” Buttercup whispers, completely halting Twist’s tirade with the sincerity laced in the statement. “I know foals can be cruel, but I can’t imagine going through that all by your lonesome.”
Oh no, Twist didn’t mean to make Buttercup feel bad, even if it was on her behalf! “Ah, no, it wasn’t too bad, really, ‘cause I wasn’t the only one! Even before we started school, we kinda stuck together, me and her, like two colors in a candy cane. Made getting through the first five or so school years a comparative breeze, until…”
Voice petering out, Twist becomes all too aware of exactly why she was out here in the first place. And she’s already intruded on both Buttercup’s space and time, so certainly a sad sob story would just make her outright detest Twist. It’s not like she isn’t used to getting tossed aside for a perceived flaw. But--even though Twist has only known her for this conversation--Buttercup doesn’t seem like one to drop somepony for something so… petty. Besides, the only adult’s advice she usually relies on is Candy Mane’s, so it couldn’t hurt to try, could it?
“We were so close… until I got my cutie mark,” Twist finally says. “Before then, we were the last foals in our class to not have them. And these two fillies who bullied us before any of us had cutie marks were especially vindictive after they got theirs. I’d have to get up to show you, but my cutie mark is two candy canes arranged like a heart. It appeared when I was trying to make some special candy for my friend, to cheer her up.”
Twist fights to keep the rising emotion down in her belly where it belonged. “I didn’t realize that getting one would make her feel even more alone than before! I didn’t realize that she would stop talking to me outside of class assignments! I didn’t realize that she’d instead latch onto two fillies who transferred in from another class period, all because they still didn’t have cutie marks! I didn’t realize that getting a cutie mark meant losing Apple Bloom entirely! I didn’t realize--”
Twist registers she’s crying when a hiccup forces its way out of her throat, the heat of the tears fogging her glasses up. She’s no stranger to embarrassment, of course, but shame for not keeping her composure better stiffens her posture anyways. So much for getting advice! For all the nice compliments Buttercup gave, she probably now thinks Twist is just an immature little foal who can’t behave herself at all… Running away sounds so nice about now, but Candy Mane would have Twist’s head if she didn’t at least apologize for making a scene. So she tries her best to gather herself up and say some sort of plea for forgiveness when she feels a comforting pressure settle on her shoulder.
“Twist, sweetheart, there’s no need to keep all this bottled up, is there?” The weight of both that unknown pressure and Twist’s glasses give way for a moment, until the newly-cleaned latter are perched back onto her nose. Able to see again, Twist quickly spots how Buttercup stands next to her, the steadying hoof on her shoulder remaining even as she carefully sits down amongst the wild grasses again. “It sounds like you’ve been dealing with this for an awfully long time.”
‘“Yeah, I guess…” Twist attempts to sniff through her stuffed nose, but eventually gives up. “That all happened a couple of years ago, now. At first, I thought that Apple Bloom just needed some time to herself, ‘cause we were gonna go to a classmate’s cute-ceañera before my cutie mark showed up. But then weeks passed and she only hung out with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, and I was lucky if she talked to me at all. So I just couldn’t help but feel that… that I had been selfish, somehow, since I was happy when I finally got my cutie mark. And with all the hustle and bustle that followed, I never even gave her the apple-shaped candies that made it happen in the first place.”
Despite herself, a grimace crosses Twist’s face. “She’s why I’m out here, today, and why I’m often out here. None of the Apples come over here, but it’s close enough to where they do go that I can… pretend, I guess. Pretend like I’m still welcome over here, a place that’d been a second home to me since before I can remember.”
A moment of quiet, and then:
“…they got their cutie marks yesterday, Apple Bloom and her friends.” Buttercup’s words are a statement, not a question; when Twist jerks upright and tries to meet her eyes, she’s staring off in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres. “Doesn’t that mean there’s nothing making you two any different, now?”
A million questions are running through Twist’s head, but the unexpected and direct question has left her so wide-eyed that she answers it first. “I… I dunno, Buttercup. Would she want to even talk to me again, much less hang out with me? But I probably could have tried harder, couldn’t I? I guess I kinda gave up after a while, but it felt so pointless to keep trying when Apple Bloom looked so much happier than she ever did running around with me. Maybe it was all my fault--”
Buttercup raises her other hoof, and Twist pauses immediately. “Honey, I wasn’t meaning to get you beating yourself up over the past. I just… I know what it is to suffer a fracture in friendship… or I suppose family is more accurate, in my case.”
Slowly, Buttercup’s eyes come back to look upon Twist, and she resists the urge to wipe her probably-messy face. “Y’see, it was just me and my papa, before he left for Vanhoover. I’m sure I had a mama, at some point, but I don’t remember her none, and Papa never spoke of her. So he meant the entire world to me, for a long, long time.
“Then I fell in love.” Although her gaze doesn’t shift, Buttercup’s cheeks color slightly. “And my world now had two ponies I loved more than anything in it. But Papa, he didn’t take kindly to the intrusion. When me and my love got married, my papa left my life entirely. And that was that, really. I didn’t know where in Vanhoover he moved to, and even though he knew I was right where he left me, he never contacted me again.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Twist manages through her empathy-heavy chest. “Even though I never knew my parents, I can’t imagine if I lost Candy Mane like that…”
“Well, I wouldn’t wish that upon anypony, to begin with. Although…” Buttercup starts, and her head tilts contemplatively. “I think losing your best friend is pretty terrible, too. That’s why I think you should talk to her about this, Twist.”
“B-But!” Twist squeaks, before stopping, and starting again. “I mean, but I’m scared to! She doesn’t seem to miss me nearly as much as I do her. And… and even if I’m unhappy now, at least I know how that feels. What if she rejects me? That would be even worse than not trying to talk to her at all…”
“Even if it hurts, I think it’s better to be able to live without regrets than to sink into them forever.” Now, Buttercup’s gaze turns to the forest. “Take it from me; I’m saddled with a lot of remorseful feelings. I wish I could've learned where Papa was, to talk to him again. I wish I could’ve told my husband not to always put me first, all those years ago. I wish I could’ve let my children know how much I love them, even though I’m never there.”
Pressing down just for a moment, Buttercup’s hoof slides off Twist’s shoulder. “But, in your case, I’m positive Apple Bloom and you can make amends. You’ve grown into a lovely little filly, as has she, and I think you two could do with support from one another. Besides, it’s dangerous to sit out here alone, alongside where the Everfree roams. The Apples don’t come out here for a reason, even if that means I’m unable to see them.”
Fluidly, Buttercup rises onto her hooves. “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, sugarcube, though I’m sure it was at the expense of your education. Even though it’s hard, I don’t want to see you wither away over conversations unspoken. After all, the last time I saw you, you were just an itty-bitty thing who couldn’t talk at all! But now you can, and nopony should let you feel like you can’t.”
A smile softens Buttercup’s features, and the lowering sun casts their planes into honeyed shadows. “Take care of yourself, Twist--I wish only the best for both you and my daughter.”
“W-Wait, you’re leaving already?” Twist scrambles upright, rushing to respond without fully parsing the prompting sentence. “But how can I really be sure she’ll--”
The syllables die on Twist’s tongue once she blinks. Before her, speedwell spills, clover clusters, fiddleheads unfurl, and watercress widens. But there’s nopony else there. There isn’t even any indent left behind from where one might have sat. Almost like her companion had never been there, at all.
Minutes pass as Twist searches the immediate area for Buttercup, even creeping toward the Everfree for a moment before the earlier warnings return to her. Only when she retreats to pick up her schoolbag and dropped pencil does she pause. Did Buttercup say something about a daughter? And she acted like she’d seen Twist before, as if they’d met a long while ago instead of this afternoon.
Like back during a time before she could remember.
Perhaps it’s part of the forest’s magic, that lots of different plants grow along this border. And if the Everfree could do that--make life bend the natural rules that dominate all of Equestria--why couldn’t it do something even more fantastical? Who’s to say that this chance meeting amongst buttercups and mint was so accidental, after all?
Earlier today, Twist wanted nothing more than to be alone. Besides Candy Mane, that’s how she spent most of her days after class, even when ponies like Truffle Shuffle or Liza Doolots invited her to hang out. Wasn’t it easier, not to get super attached to somepony, again? Maybe. But maybe it could be worthwhile to try again, even if Twist might embarrass herself in the process--something she’s still no stranger to!
And if not for herself, for those who would always be left with regrets unresolved.
It doesn’t take much concentration on Twist’s part to wade out of the overgrown border and back to trimmed landscapes. Ahead, the familiar wooden roof of the Apples’ farmhouse looms. When she left the field, the sun leaned toward early evening, that remaining hour or so giving plenty of time to return home before Candy Mane did. Twist only pauses a moment before she veers onto the forming path, moving quickly as something exhilarating builds in her chest.
She’s nearly out of breath when she approaches the closed Dutch door proper. Usually, such a tension-filled moment would demand her to pull out a pencil and chew. But she spots where the light below the door spills honeyed shadows in front of her, and she feels her mouth tilt up, instead. Twist takes a steadying breath, remembering how that hoof weighed comfortingly on her shoulder.
And then she knocks.