> Clean Slate
>  by Alaborn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: Awakening
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 1: Awakening






“I don’t like the look of this road.”

“So much paperwork.”

“You can’t!  It’s not fair!”

“Mud.”

“Tell me, Doc.”

“…medically-induced….”

“Can’t believe it.”

A sniffle.

“This is all a big shock.”






My eyes fluttered open.  It was dark.  A beeping sound matched the pulse of the throbbing in my head.  Make it stop.  I shut my eyes again.





I opened my eyes.  I shut them reflexively as the bright sunlight stunned me.  I tried opening them again, just slightly.  In time, I got used to the light, and shapes came into focus.  Two ponies stood over me.  One, an earth pony mare with a white coat, held my foreleg in her hooves.  I felt something icy slither into it.  I felt the pinching sensation before feeling the syringe gently slide out of my foreleg.

The other pony, an older unicorn stallion with a tan coat, constantly shifted his attention among my form, the machines, and the clipboard held in his telekinetic grasp.  “Can you understand me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied.  At least that’s what I tried to say.  What came out of my parched throat was some unholy cross between a hiss and a croak.  The younger mare hurried away, and returned with a small paper cup filled with water.  I tried to lift my forelegs, but they wouldn’t move.  She held the cup to my mouth and tipped it, a little bit of water caressing my dry tongue.  I swallowed eagerly.

I tried to move my forelegs again.  They flopped over; I felt little beyond the sensation of dead weight.  The mare placed a reassuring hoof on my shoulder, holding my foreleg in place.

“Please, don’t try to move right now.  Do you know where you are?” the stallion asked.

I looked around.  Nothing looked familiar.  “No,” I replied.  My voice was still weak, but at least the word was clear.

“You are in the Ponyville General Hospital.  You’ve been in a coma for five months, and just came out of it last night.”

Ponyville.  A small earth pony community in the shadow of Canterlot.  The place held no meaning for me.  Why was I there?

“It looks like the worst has passed, young filly.  We expect you’ll recover in time.  It will be hard work, with some grueling physical therapy, but you should be able to live… a normal life.”

The stallion… doctor… had paused.  A normal life.  Was that supposed to be a lowering of expectations?  I fought against this limitation, trying to move my hind legs.  The mare… nurse… pressed against my foreleg.

“Your family has been visiting all the time you’ve been unconscious.  I’m going to let them know you’ve woken up, but for now, you need your rest,” the doctor ordered.  “Nurse?”

The nurse again trotted away, coming back with another syringe.  Another pinch, and warmth spread from my limb into my body.  I closed my eyes again.





I felt two forms watching me as I slept, a dreamless sleep.





It was light again when I opened my eyes.  The same nurse was there, along with two other earth pony mares.  Both of these mares were quite physically impressive.  The light blue mare with a pink and red mane was one solid slab of muscle.  Her cutie mark was a dumbbell.  The orange mare was even taller.  While not as solidly built, those legs looked incredibly powerful.  She kept her yellow mane tied off, and wore a cowpony hat.  Three red apples marked her flank.

The top sheet had been removed from my bed.  I turned to look at my own side.  Nothing.  A blank flank.

“My name is Muscle Memory, and I’m your physical therapist,” the blue mare said.  “We’re going to make sure you will be able to walk and care for yourself again.”

“Okay,” I uttered meekly.

The huge mare enveloped me in her forelegs.  I felt tiny compared to her bulk.  She righted me and lowered me gently to the ground.  I couldn’t feel much, but I could feel my legs shaking.  Muscle Memory loosened her grip on me.  Gravity pulled me to the ground.  I was only stopped from falling flat by the mare’s hooves grabbing me by the barrel.

“I need you to stand,” she said.

“I can’t!” I complained.

“You can,” she emphasized.  “Applejack?”

The orange mare trotted over to me.  She mussed my mane.  It felt like something was missing there.  She looked me in the eye.  “Don’t worry, sugarcube.  I won’t let you fall.”  Her strong legs also held me.

“Now, I’m going to slowly let go,” Muscle Memory said.  “You can stand.  You will stand.”

Again, I felt my weight pull me to the ground.  But something about the encouragement of both mares, particularly the honest support from the orange mare at my side, strengthened me.  I felt the shaking in my elbows and knees.  By the time the shaking calmed, I realized I was standing.

“That’s good,” Muscle Memory said encouragingly.  “Now, I’m going to move each of your legs.  Applejack, would you hold her?”

The orange mare nodded, and supported me.  Starting with my left foreleg, Muscle Memory moved each of my legs in a circular pattern.  My joints and muscles protested as they moved in ways they hadn’t moved in months.

“Can you remember that movement?” the physical therapist said.  “Start with your left foreleg.”

I tried to repeat the movement, but all that happened is my leg moving like a pendulum.

“Try again.  Bend, lift, and then move.”

I quickly became frustrated as my body just wouldn’t react like I wanted it to.  Muscle Memory was patient but firm, having me repeat these movements until I felt I had control again.  My movements were still jerky, but I felt happy every time she said “Well done.”

“I think we can take a break now,” Muscle Memory said.  I tried to walk back to the bed.  I moved one leg, but lost my balance.

“Whoa there, sugarcube,” Applejack said as she picked me up.

“Be careful.  You’re not ready to walk yet,” Muscle Memory cautioned.

The two mares helped me to the bed.  Soon, the nurse came in with lunch.  Was it lunch?  I didn’t know what time it was.  The plain oatmeal didn’t offer much of a clarification.  I really wanted to feed myself, but I couldn’t hold the spoon in my pastern.  It kept falling out.  I grudgingly let the nurse feed me.

After lunch, the nurse placed me in a wheelchair and pushed me into another room.  Muscle Memory and Applejack were waiting, standing by a treadmill.  The blue mare picked me up and placed me on it.

“I am impressed by your eagerness, but before you try to walk, I want you to watch the movements involved,” Muscle Memory said.  “Applejack?”

The other mare nodded, and slowly walked around the room.  My eyes tracked her deliberate movement, watching her legs move in tandem.  In my first attempt to walk on the treadmill, I failed to move my opposite legs at the right time.  I stumbled, but Muscle Memory caught me.  I tried several more times before getting it right.  On the treadmill, I repeated these painful steps for what felt like hours.  I envied the ease with which everypony else walked.

When the physical therapy session ended, the nurse returned with the wheelchair.  I protested, walking to the door by myself, but I couldn’t even make it half the distance before feeling ready to collapse.  Together, the nurse and physical therapist lifted me into the chair.  Again, they moved me back to my room.

The nurse checked my vital signs and gave me some medicine as Applejack watched.  “Visiting hours end in thirty minutes, Miss Applejack,” she said.  Applejack nodded.

After the nurse left, I looked at Applejack.  “So you’re not a nurse or doctor?” I asked.

“Nope,” she replied.

“Then why are you here?”

She sighed.  “Because I’m family, and that’s what family does.”

My heart sank.  “I was afraid of that.  Applejack, I don’t remember you.  I don’t remember anything from before I woke up here.”

I sighed.  “I don’t even know my name.”

Applejack walked over and hugged me, an awkward gesture with the IV lines now attached to me.  “The doctors said something like this might happen.  Don’t you worry, sugarcube.  I’m not going to forget you.”

She turned around, but before she left, she said she would talk to the doctors.  At least I think that’s what she said, because the medicine had already sent me into a deep sleep.





The next day, I spoke with two different doctors.  They asked several questions and mentioned several names.  Nothing triggered a memory.  I don’t think there was anything wrong with my current memory, since I recognized a dozen repeat questions between the two doctors.  But from the time before I woke up?  I remembered nothing.

I had two sessions of physical therapy that day, again led by Muscle Memory.  Applejack wasn’t there today.  I spent more time on the treadmill in the morning, and after lunch, I practiced fine motor skills.  I must have dropped that wooden mug a hundred times.  I didn’t feel like I improved at all.

A mulberry mare came by late that afternoon.  She brought several schoolbooks and papers.  I guessed she was a teacher, although the three flowers on her flank didn’t suggest that.  She gave me several oral quizzes.  I did okay on them.  If that was information I learned in the past, I remembered it, but there was no context.  I couldn’t recall ever consciously studying the subjects.  The books she brought didn’t look familiar.  I could remember facts about the town of Ponyville, but I couldn’t picture the town in my mind.

The first doctor I spoke to that day returned in the evening.  He said an expert from Canterlot would be talking to me tomorrow.  Great, the same questions, asked for a third time.  I thought about Canterlot.  Capital city.  Home of the princesses.  I could at least picture the town, but it was a flat image, like a picture printed in a book.  Had I ever traveled there?  I couldn’t remember.

I fought my own locked mind until I again fell asleep.





Doctor Mind Spring was an elderly unicorn stallion.  Whatever color his mane had been, it was gray now, and it fell in all directions, as if he had just woken up.  I sat in a comfortable chair in a small interior room of the hospital, along with Mind Spring, Applejack, and that first doctor I had seen when I came to.

“Amnesia is a difficult condition to treat,” Mind Spring explained.  “The pony mind is an incredible thing, capable of building neural pathways around damaged areas.  You can train yourself to use your mind in a different way.  But part of this healing process can mean closing off access to memories trapped in damaged brain tissue.

“There is no spell that can help you recover lost memories.  Such magic would be far too dangerous to employ.  But there are several techniques that often help a pony recover lost memories.  Similar to the process I described previously, we can hope that interaction with your past, familiar faces and places, can rebuild the paths that connect your memories.  But sometimes, the only treatment is to build memories anew.

“I’ve asked Applejack to collect pictures, images of Ponyville and its residents.”  The doctor looked directly at me.  “Young filly, I want you to understand that not all of these images would be familiar to you, were your memories intact.  These are control images.  I want you to look at all of them, and see if anything feels familiar.  Even if there’s the slightest sensation, please tell us.”

Applejack placed a thick folder in my hooves.  Opening it, I found a large number of photographs, along with pictures clipped from magazines and newspapers.  The first one, showing a building that looked something like a cake, was unfamiliar.  I shook my head.

I tried moving the picture aside, but almost knocked over the whole folder.  Applejack steadied it.  “I’ll help you with that,” she said.  She stood protectively next to me, cycling the pictures in the folders.

Tears welled in my eyes as all I saw was unfamiliar picture after unfamiliar picture.  They were as meaningful to me as pictures from a foreign history book.  The only pony I recognized was Applejack, and all I remembered was somepony I met in the hospital.  “Nothing,” I finally said.

Mind Spring observed silently, making notes on a scroll held in his telekinetic grasp.  I looked again at the pictures.  There were many ponies appearing in multiple photographs.  One filly in particular made me study the picture in greater detail.  I still didn’t recognize her, but her coat color was familiar.  It was my own.

I looked up at Applejack.  “Is that me?” I asked.  The mare nodded in response.

I buried my head in my forelegs.  “I don’t even recognize myself!” I cried.  With that, the tears flowed, dampening my fetlocks. 

I don’t know how long I was lost in my own sobs.  Eventually, I came to recognize Applejack’s foreleg draped comfortingly over me.  I looked up, and the mare embraced me, patting me on the back.

“Sugarcube, I can’t say I know what you’re going through.  But no matter what, I’ll be here for you,” Applejack said.  “I’ll do anything I can to help you recover.  Are you ready?”

I nodded, sniffling, trying to dry my tears.

“Good,” Applejack said.  “So, let’s start from the beginning.

“Your name is Diamond Tiara.”

> Chapter 2: Discovery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 2: Discovery





“Applejack, may I speak with you before you continue?” Mind Spring said.

“Certainly, doctor,” she replied.

“Doctor Heart?  Would you take Miss Tiara to her room?” he continued

But I wanted to hear more!

The doctor helped me to my hooves and led me outside.  A passing nurse lifted me into a wheelchair and took me back to my room.  Soon, I was alone.  Celestia’s sun was shining brightly, but it didn’t warm my heart.  I still felt alone.

The wait seemed like forever, but Applejack did return to my room.  “How are you doing, sugarcube?” she asked.

“I still feel so lost,” I said.  “What did the doctor say to you?”

“He just gave me some advice on how to talk to you, how to talk to a pony with amnesia.  Primarily, he said not to talk about opinions.  He wants you to develop your own.”

I nodded slowly.  Applejack sat next to me, and spread out her pictures.  She pointed to a mare with a golden mane and a rose coat in a slightly faded photograph.  “This is Gold Crown.  She was your mother.  She passed away three, four years ago.”

Next, Applejack showed me a picture clipped from a newspaper.  She pointed to a stallion.  This picture was in black and white, but I remembered seeing several photographs of him; he had an amber coat and darker hair.  “Your father, Filthy Rich.  He was a good pony.”

“I thought you said no opinions,” I mentioned.

“He was a good pony.  That’s fact, in my opinion,” Applejack stated.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at Applejack’s contradictory statement.  But then I stifled the laugh.  If this was my father, and he was dead, too, how could I laugh?  What kind of pony was I?

“What’s wrong, sugarcube?” Applejack asked

“Tell me, what happened?” I said, quietly.

“Are you sure?  It might be hard to hear,” Applejack said.

I nodded.  “If it’s that hard to hear, then I should hear it now, so I have more time to accept it.”

Applejack put away the pictures and took a seat on the bed next to me.  “It was spring, getting around to summertime.  My little sister and her friends had convinced us to go on another camping trip to Winsome Falls.  Said we had such a good time the first time, we should do it again.  So we went, but conditions on the ground weren’t too good.  We were not that far removed from a big spring storm, and the ground was still muddy in spots.

“We didn’t make as much progress as we wanted, so we set up camp on some drier ground.  The next day, we decided to head back, since we knew we wouldn’t be able to reach the falls.  On the way back, we heard the sound of collapsing earth, and screams.

“Rainbow Dash flew ahead as the rest of us raced to the commotion.  Before we got there, Rainbow Dash had returned, cradling you in her forelegs.  You were in real bad shape, but you were still breathing.

“Rarity overpacked for the trip, as usual, but amidst countless trunks of useless clothes and accessories, she had first aid supplies, enough to practically set up a field hospital.  We stabilized you as best as we could before Rainbow Dash flew you to the hospital.”

“What about my father?” I asked.

“Your father, and the two ponies pulling the carriage, didn’t survive the fall.  You only survived because your father shielded your body with his own,” Applejack explained.

“Why were we there?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Applejack admitted.  “That road is the fastest way to get to Fillydelphia, but if that was where you were going, I wouldn’t know why.”

I looked down, thinking about what she had said.  Eventually, I pawed at the pictures spread across the bed.  I thought Applejack was going to continue her introductions.  When she didn’t, I asked “Which other of these ponies are my relatives?”

“None of them, sugarcube.  You’re an only child, and it was just you and your father here in Ponyville,” she replied.

“But I thought you said you were family,” I countered.

Applejack sighed.  “I am.  Now.  It’s a bit complicated.”  The mare paused before continuing.  “We’re not related by blood or anything.  But your father’s will specified that if he passed while you were still a foal, he wished for my family to be appointed your guardian.  You’re family now, Diamond Tiara, just as much as my blood kin.”

This revelation struck me as unusual.  Families are larger than parents and children.  “What about my extended family?  Why wasn’t one of them named my guardian?” I wondered.

“To be honest, I don’t rightly know,” Applejack admitted.  “Your family has long had a business relationship with mine, and I know your father was close to my own parents.  He was about fifteen years older than me, so to me, he was always Mr. Rich.  I suspect he told my parents why he wanted them to be your guardian, but that would have been one of those adult conversations where little Applejack would have been shooed out of the room.  But they’re gone now, so I can’t ask them why.”

“You’re an orphan?” I gasped.

Applejack nodded somberly.  “I am.  So I can understand this kind of loss.  But it’s a bit different for a farm family.  I had Granny Smith and my big brother to watch over me, a little sister to protect, and a close-knit extended family who could always be counted on to help when help was needed.”  Applejack suddenly embraced me.  “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

I sniffed.  The tears welling in my eyes threatened to overflow my eyelids.  The warmth of the orange mare’s embrace was unfamiliar yet comforting.  “Thank you,” I whispered.

The clip-clop of hooves on the tile floor announced the arrival of the nurse.  “Time for physical therapy,” she announced.  I released myself from Applejack’s embrace and carefully stepped to the floor.  I was determined to make it to the wheelchair on my own.  I managed the small number of steps to the chair itself.  I placed my forehooves on the seat of the chair, and tried to push myself up.  My still weak hind legs failed to complete this task.

After a second failed attempt, I felt the strong grip of a pair of hooves on my rump.  Applejack lifted me into the chair.  “You’ll get there, sugarcube,” she said.





The nurse wheeled me into the physical therapy room.  Muscle Memory was there, with the treadmill, but there was something else in the room.  A simple set of freestanding wooden stairs was placed next to a wooden platform.  The stairs were broad and rose at a gentle incline, but I dreaded this new physical therapy.

“Welcome back, Diamond Tiara,” the physical therapist said.  “Before we use the treadmill today, we’re going to practice climbing stairs.  Climb the stairs to the platform, turn around, and then climb back down.  Don’t worry about your gait for now; focus on the climb.  Go slowly to start, and if you feel dizzy or unsteady on your hooves, stop and tell me.”

I breathed in and faced the stairs.  Each step was broad enough that I could stand lengthwise on it.  The height didn’t look bad, but I knew lifting my hind legs could be a problem.  I awkwardly placed my forehooves on the first step and scooted forward.  When my hind legs brushed the edge of the step, I lifted my left hind leg.  My right hind leg, bearing more weight than normal, started to shake, but I was able to place my left hind leg on the first step, balancing my weight.  Repeating the process, I pulled my right hind leg onto the step.

I paused, waiting for my strength to return.  One step down, five to go.

Muscle Memory encouraged me as I continued to climb.  I reached the top after some effort.  Turning around was a welcome respite, using motions I had practiced the previous day.  Now, to get back down.

I stepped onto the first step down, first one foreleg, then the other.  I stopped, overcome by dizziness.  “Whoa,” I uttered.

I felt the physical therapist steady me, gripping me by the barrel.  “A sense of vertigo is often felt by recovering ponies.  It’s nothing to be afraid of.  Try leaning into me as you step down,” she directed.  I followed her instructions, and took the first step down.

Slowly, I completed the transit back to the floor.  I looked up to Muscle Memory, smiling weakly.  She returned the smile.  “Now, let’s do that again.”

I lost count of the number of times I climbed those steps.  It was almost a relief to get back on the familiar treadmill.  I walked for a while.  I then noticed my steps coming faster, as the physical therapist increased the speed on the treadmill.

By the end of the session, I was wiped out.  I didn’t fight the nurse who was ready with the wheelchair this time.  I returned to the room, where lunch was soon served.  I still had to be fed by hoof, much to my disappointment.





Following lunch, I found myself staring out the window.  I was expecting more physical therapy, but first, the old doctor, Mind Spring, came in to talk to me.  He was carrying the same folder of pictures in his telekinetic aura.

“How are you feeling, Diamond Tiara?” he started.

“Tired.  Frustrated.  Lost,” I listed.

“Those are normal feelings.  Did speaking with Applejack trigger any memories?” Mind Spring asked.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“I’d like you to think hard.  Think about everything you’ve experienced since waking up.  Do you recall anything familiar?  If not memories, then what about feelings or sensations?”  The doctor looked at me expectantly.

“Nothing,” I said again.  “Wait.”  My head.  I raised my hoof to my mane.  I remember feeling that something was missing, and sure enough, I felt like something should have been there, holding my mane.

“Your tiara?” Mind Spring wondered.

“Yes,” I said.  “I didn’t remember what was there, but I remembered something should be there.”

The doctor opened the folder, pulling out one photograph and placing it before me.  In that picture, I was wearing a beautiful diamond tiara.  I don’t know why I was wearing it.  Of all the ponies I’d seen since waking up, none wore anything like it.  I stared at the doppelganger in the picture.  I had this supremely confident look on my face, as if everything was going to go my way.  That me must never have thought that anything like this could happen.

I placed my hoof on the picture and stared.  In this picture, I had a cutie mark, a tiara much like the one on my head.  I looked again at my flank.  “Blank flank,” I said.  That was familiar, for some reason.

“You’re wondering why you have no cutie mark now?” Mind Spring asked.

“No.  I mean, I am, but I remember feeling… something… when I saw my lack of cutie mark,” I uttered.

“Losing one’s cutie mark is unusual, but not unknown for an amnesiac,” Mind Spring explained.  “For a pony whose talent is, say, running, it wouldn’t go away.  Even if he would never walk again, a learned talent isn’t lost.  But other ponies have cutie marks that are a representation of their personality, and that can be lost.”

“Do you know what my cutie mark means… meant?” I asked.

“I couldn’t answer that without knowing you better, knowing you before the accident,” the doctor said.  “But yours appears to be very personal, tied to your name and the jewelry you obviously valued highly.  A personal cutie mark like that often represents leadership.”

“But why would that go away?”

“There are many forms of leadership, and without the personality you developed through your twelve years of life, the form of leadership that was your talent may no longer be appropriate for you,” he continued.  “Perhaps your talent is still leadership, but you may find yourself a different kind of leader.”

The doctor crouched, putting him at my eye level.  He grasped my hooves in his.  “Don’t feel you have to be what you were.  You have a chance to discover yourself anew, and you should do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“Okay, Doctor,” I said.

“I’ll be returning to Canterlot today, but I’ll remain in contact with Doctor Heart, and you can call on my expertise at any time,” Mind Spring said.  “Good luck, and stay strong.”





That afternoon’s physical therapy was again focused on fine motor skills.  Muscle Memory started with range of motion exercises involving my forelegs, in particular moving my fetlocks.  The reason soon became clear, as she brought out a series of wooden rods.  Starting with the thickest rod, she tried to get me to grip it in my pastern.  I couldn’t do it.  My legs still felt funny, like that tingling sensation that comes when you sit on them for too long.  So we repeated the exercises.

I finally got some feeling back in my forehooves, and eventually gripped the first rod.  I handled moving it okay, but I couldn’t maintain my grip when Muscle Memory placed pressure on it.  If I couldn’t learn to do this, I’d never be able to feed myself again.





For a week, my therapy continued, two hours in the morning, two hours in the afternoon.  The strength and coordination therapy never got easier.  As soon as I felt good about my progress, the physical therapist made it harder.  The stair training started using narrower and steeper stairs.  The treadmill went faster and at a higher incline.  It went from a slow walk to a canter to a trot.  I even spent a short time galloping, but I couldn’t keep that up for long.  After four days, I was able to walk back to my room, albeit not without Muscle Memory supporting me.

Similarly, my motor skills rehabilitation progressed to more difficult items.  I succeeded at manipulating one item, and it would be replaced with a smaller item.  There seemed to be no end to the ways in which Muscle Memory could make things more difficult.

Applejack visited me once or twice each day.  She always asked me how I was feeling.  On one visit, she brought some personal items, like a hairbrush and a toothbrush.  I was grateful that I could now brush my mane; the feeling was strangely relaxing.  I closed my eyes, focusing only on the feeling of the hairs of my mane being tugged into place.  I just wish I could hold the toothbrush.  As the nurse helped me with my hygiene, I noticed the sad filly in the mirror.  She started to look familiar to me.

Then, one morning, Doctor Heart came by my room with Applejack.  This was out of normal visiting hours.  “What’s going on?” I asked.

“You’re being discharged from the hospital,” the doctor replied.  “We’ve scheduled continuing physical therapy sessions and a series of checkups, but your condition has improved so that you no longer require continuous monitoring.”

“You’re going home, sugarcube,” Applejack said.

> Chapter 3: Home
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 3: Home





Applejack stood at the nurse’s station, filling in some paperwork.  I waited as she collected documents from various nurses and doctors.  Finally, a nurse brought a final document, along with a small contraption of metal bars, with two wheels and two rubber feet at its base.  A walker.

The orange mare must have noticed my expression.  “Doctor’s orders,” she said.  “We’ll see in a week if you still need it.”  When I continued to frown, she continued.  “Look, Diamond Tiara.  You’re an earth pony.  Strength and resilience are part of the magic that’s in you.  But healing still takes time.  If you don’t want to use the walker, the first step is to use it.  Do you understand?”

I nodded, and rested my forehooves on the bar near the walker’s base.  By pushing my body into it, I lifted it off the rubber feet, and the walker moved on its wheels.  The framework kept me steady as I walked out of the hospital.

“We’ve got a stop to make first.  Follow me,” Applejack said.  I walked after her, paying attention to her movement.  She took small steps, moving far slower than she obviously could, just so that I could keep up with her.

We ended up at a large building.  It might have been bigger than the hospital, but it was hard to judge, as this new building was one story, as compared to the multilevel hospital building.  The building itself looked like newer construction, with a modern style, but the sign hanging outside was not.  An old wooden sign, with hoof-carved lettering, read Barnyard Bargains.  The sign was obviously well cared for, varnished and polished, but it must have been much older than the building.

We headed inside.  The store was enormous.  Rows of shelves, stacked three high, held an abundance of material goods.  I saw cookware, toys, cleaning supplies, and canned food, with many varieties of each.

“I’m just going to get some glass jars for canning,” Applejack explained, walking into a row with cookware.  I walked parallel to her, in another row, but keeping her in sight through the gaps in the shelving units.  At the end of the row, I found a display with items for winter.  Snow shovels hung from pegs.  Boots were stacked next to a circular rack, holding ponchos.

I remembered the racks.  I remembered finding dropped items, from broken wooden hangars to glittering gold coins.  I remembered hiding inside them, peeking out between two ponchos.  A foalhood game of hide and seek?  With who?

I walked up to Applejack, who was busy inspecting two competing packages of lids.  “Have I been here before?” I asked her.

She set down the packages.  “I reckon you’ve spent a lot of time here.  Did you remember something?” Applejack said.

“It’s very vague, but I felt… an impression.  Maybe it’s something from my past,” I said.  Down the aisle, I saw a rambunctious colt run by, a harried mare chasing after him, scolding him all the while.  Could that have been me, several years ago?

Applejack settled on her purchases, and placed glass canning jars, rubber seals, and metal lids into her saddlebags.  “Let’s take a look around before checking out.  See if you remember anything else.”

We walked through the entire store, but I didn’t experience any other memories.  I seemed to know how the store was laid out, but whether that was because of past experience, because all stores were laid out that way, or because it was just a logical layout, I didn’t know.  I shook my head.  Applejack nodded and headed to the clerk, paying for her purchases.

When we stepped outside, Applejack got to her knees.  “Alright, sugarcube.  Hop on.”  I hesitated.  “Don’t give me that look,” she continued.  “It’s a long way back to the farm, and I don’t want you to tire yourself out.”

She’s probably right.  I don’t know where this farm is, and I am feeling a bit tired just from walking through the store.  I climbed on Applejack, draping my forelegs around her neck.  She effortlessly picked up the walker with her tail and balanced it on her back.  She then stood up, and we departed.

We traveled in silence through Ponyville.  Small shops and homes were arranged along the dirt roads.  The farther we walked, the fewer commercial buildings were present, and the more homes.

“See anything familiar?” Applejack asked.

I shook my head.  Realizing she couldn’t see my gesture, I then said, “No.”

After half an hour, we reached the edge of the settlement.  Farms extended as far as the eye could see, ahead and to both sides.  A short walk up the road, we crossed the gate of one of these farms.  “Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack said.  





Sweet Apple Acres was huge.  A whitewashed wooden fence stretched to both sides, encompassing an orchard of apple trees.  The leaves were beginning to change colors, but apples remained to be harvested.  As we walked through the orchard, I noticed sounds coming from all over, the cracks of something strong striking wood.  “Is this your harvest season?” I asked.

“Eeyup.  We’ve been harvesting for a couple of weeks, and still have a few more to go,” Applejack said.

I thought about the amount of time Applejack had spent at the hospital.  I calculated the time it would take to walk there and back, each time.  “How could you spend all that time with me, then?” I asked.

“Because you needed somepony to be there,” she replied.

“But all your work!” I implored.

“We’ll manage,” is all she said in reply.

Again I was struck by the size of the farm.  At no point in our walk did I not see apple trees.  It was not until we reached the farmhouse, fifteen minutes later, that I finally saw something different.  Off in the distance was another farm, a painted wooden carrot marking its barn.

Applejack stooped so that I could hop off.  I landed on the wooden porch.  I started to walk to the door, only to have the mare place my walker in front of me.

“Safety first,” she cautioned.  Applejack opened the door and led me inside.  I paused at the threshold, wiping my hooves, or rather my rear hooves, on the sisal mat.  The house was quiet, save for the sound of our hooves on the old wooden floor.  But the smell of fresh apple pie made me feel welcome.

“You’ll get to see everypony when we break for lunch,” Applejack said.  “For now, let’s go to your room.”

I followed Applejack up the stairs.  The walker was rather awkward to use, but the physical therapy I had done helped me make it up the stairs without issue.  Once on the second floor, she pushed one of the doors open.  “So here’s where you’re going to be staying,” she said.

The small bedroom was crowded with two beds and two nightstands.  One bed was older, sloppily covered with a quilt with apples embroidered on it.  The other bed was neatly made; a stack of books, a wooden box, and a slate rested on it.  The furniture and bedding looked brand new.  A shared room.  I guessed this was somepony not used to sharing a room, so that meant I was imposing on them.

While I was taking in the room, Applejack was in the closet.  She pulled out a trunk and set it at the foot of the bed.  “We brought some of your things,” Applejack said.  “Now before you go getting settled in, the doctor wants you to do an hour of stair climbing and an hour of motor skills practice each day.  You’ve got a doctor’s appointment and physical therapy sessions at the hospital each Tuesday and Friday.  And Miss Cheerilee brought by schoolbooks and lesson plans for the material you’ve missed.

“Bathroom’s down the hall.  If you need anything, Granny Smith should be in the house most of the time, so just ask.  I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

As Applejacks hoofsteps receded, I opened the chest.  My eyes were first drawn to a diamond tiara, resting on a small pink pillow.  It was damaged, clearly bent out of shape, and though it looked like some effort had been made to clean it, I still saw a bit of dried ocher-colored mud in the tiara’s crevasses.

I tried on the tiara and looked at myself in the mirror.  The tiara looked beautiful.  The two metal alloys, one darker than the other, mimicked the violet and white color of my mane.  The curves reminded me of the natural wave in my mane and tail. The sparkle of the pale blue diamonds reminded me of my color of my eyes.  It was perfect for me.

I took off the tiara.  It might have been perfect, but it was out of place.  I hadn’t seen anypony wearing anything like it.  I took the pillow out of the chest, and placed both items on the dresser.

I turned back to the chest and looked to see what else was inside.  A doll.  Three dresses.  A small velvet box with a pair of decorative teaspoons.  A hairbrush and mirror.  Saddlebags.  Nothing that unusual.  And nothing that was familiar to me.  Sadly, I closed the chest, and returned it to the closet.

I lifted my forelegs onto the bed and checked out what was there.  The schoolbooks were plain.  Mathematics.  History.  Magic.  Grammar and composition.  I set them aside and checked out the mystery box.  Inside were plain wooden rods.  Therapy.  Not the present I wanted to find in this package, but it was necessary for my recovery.

I wasn’t sure how much time I had until lunch, so I thought I’d get my stair walking out of the way.  I took the first trip down the stairs carefully, making sure the rubber feet of the walker were placed on the next step before moving.  Once I made it back downstairs, it was time to climb again.

Somewhere in the middle of my exercise, I heard the back door open.  Somepony was in the kitchen.  She talked in a scratchy voice, addressing the food she was preparing.  I giggled.  Such a kooky thing to do!

As the stepping became more routine, I was able to look around.  The defining feature of the staircase was the pictures hanging from the walls.  There were more than a dozen framed photographs, with almost all the ponies in them having coloration in either earth tones or colors like apples.  Most bore cutie marks with some form of apple or food made with apples.  Obviously, all the ponies pictured here couldn’t fit into this house.  A certain group of ponies appeared in multiple pictures.  One was Applejack.  There was a red stallion around Applejack’s age, a little older, and a yellow filly, who would probably be around my age.  An elderly green mare appeared to be the family matriarch.

As I focused on the family photographs, I then noticed the middle generation, the ponies who were probably Applejack’s parents.  In the oldest photos, the ones without the young filly, a mare and stallion were both present.  Later photographs showed only the stallion, and the most recent neither parent.

I had tuned out the noises from the kitchen, but the screeching of “Soup’s on, everypony!” brought me back to the real world.  I slowly walked into the kitchen.

The elderly green mare I saw in many of the photographs was busy in the kitchen, loading the table with salads, bread, and apple pie.  Curiously, there was no soup.  Within minutes, Applejack and three other ponies joined us.

“Diamond Tiara, in case you haven’t been introduced, this is Granny Smith,” Applejack said.

“Well look at that!  We’re twins!” the old mare said, lifting up her own walker in one hoof.  The way she had been moving around the kitchen, I think I needed a walker more than she did. 

“This is my brother, Big McIntosh,” Applejack said, motioning to the red stallion.

“Eeyup,” he said.

Applejack introduced a yellow stallion, wearing a brown vest.  “This is Cousin Braeburn.  He’s here all the way from Appleloosa!”

“Howdy,” he said to me, tipping his hat.

“And that’s Apple Bloom,” Applejack concluded.  The yellow filly took her seat at the kitchen table, not looking at me.

“Apple Bloom!  You introduce yourself properly!” Big McIntosh scolded.

Apple Bloom barely looked at me as she muttered a quick hello.  I think she’s upset about sharing her room with a stranger.





Lunch went about as well as could be expected.  The loops around the utensils at my place setting were a reminder of my condition.  At least I was able to feed myself without sticking my muzzle in the bowl.  The conversation at the table was another reminder.  The talk was mostly about the farm.  I wasn’t familiar with the many varieties of apples discussed, nor with which field had which type of apple tree.

The food was very good.  The salad was crisp and fresh, the bread still warm, and the apple pie incredibly flaky and tender.  The other ponies, having worked up an appetite with their hard work, ate a lot, and ate fast.  I, still getting used to eating solid food again, ate very little.  I couldn’t even finish the thin slice of apple pie, no matter how good it smelled.  We finished eating at about the same time.

I brought my plate to the sink.  It looked like Granny Smith was taking the lead on cleaning, while everypony else was heading back to the harvest.  Soon, I was alone in the kitchen with Granny Smith.

“Now, don’t you worry about the kitchen,” Granny Smith said.

“Okay,” I replied.  “May I study down here?”

“Of course you can!” she replied.

I headed upstairs and looked at the schoolbooks.  Mathematics seemed like as good a place to start as any.  Remembering my saddlebags, I pulled them out of the chest in the closet.  Now, I finally got a good look at them.  They were constructed of a lightweight fabric; I hoped it was strong.  The fabric was pink, like my coat, and there were small gems sewed into the fabric, in the shape of my tiara.  That same pattern was once on my flank, in those pictures where I had a cutie mark.

Into one side of the saddlebags, I put the textbook.  In the other, I slid in the slate, and added the box of chalk and eraser that was resting next to the slate.  I donned the saddlebags and returned downstairs.

At the kitchen table, I set down the slate and chalk and pulled out the textbook.  Stuck in the cover was a detailed list of assignments, covering the first four chapters of the book.

The first two chapters include a review of the material from previous years, but if you have any questions on these old subjects, be sure to ask your family.

--Miss Cheerilee


I noticed the calendar hanging in the kitchen, indicating it was October.  If I had been in a coma for five months, that would have been May, so I wouldn’t have missed much of the previous year’s material.  I didn’t know what topics I had missed, so I decided to get to the lesson.

“Read chapter 1.1.  Do problems 1 through 20 at the end of the chapter,” I read aloud.  I read through the chapter, which was a review of mathematical topics I was familiar with, fairly quickly, skimming the problems worked through in the text.  Now, the problems.  I took the chalk in my mouth and began to work through the problem set.

Four problems fit on the slate before I had to erase it.  I took the eraser in my hoof and wiped the board clean.  As I stared at the slate, black except for a fine residue of chalk dust left behind, I saw myself.  The blackness was my memories, at the moment I woke up.  Each stroke of the chalk was an attempt to imprint lost knowledge on my mind.  I needed to work to make sure that which was left behind was more substantial than the chalk dust.





I worked problems until it got too dark to read comfortably.  With twilight falling on the land, my new family members filed in, their workday at an end.  They crowded around the sink, taking turns cleaning up before dinner.  I packed up my work so that the table could be set for dinner.

Again, the food was excellent.  The baked hay was breaded and crispy, with a flavorful tomato sauce.  More fresh bread, green beans, and apple cobbler completed the meal.  I ate in silence, trying to pick up on the conversation.  I was still lost amidst the farming terms and apple names, so it was hard to pay attention.

“Diamond Tiara?” Applejack said.

“Huh?” I replied.

“I said, how was your day?” she repeated.  Everypony was finishing their meal, and apparently, Applejack had asked me a question when I was zoned out.

“Oh,” I uttered.  “It was okay.”

“So what did you do?” Applejack pressed.

“Mostly math, and exercise before that,” I continued.

“Did you do both your therapy exercises?” Applejack asked.

Shoot.  “No, I still need to do those motor skill exercises,” I admitted.  Around me, the ponies were starting to clean the table.  I pushed aside the uneaten portion of my cobbler.

“Apple Bloom, would you get the box from your room?” Applejack requested.

“Okay,” Apple Bloom said, still not appearing any happier.  The filly departed.

“You know, Diamond Tiara, she made those for you,” Applejack said.

“That’s nice of her,” I replied.

“Let’s go to the living room,” Applejack suggested.

I sat in one of the chairs and waited.  Apple Bloom returned, the box sticking out of her saddlebags.  She passed me the box.

“Thanks.  These are nice,” I said.

“It’s nothing special, just some basic woodwork,” Apple Bloom replied.

I practiced picking up and manipulating the wooden rods.  From my seat, I could watch the rest of the family.  Applejack and Braeburn battled over a checkerboard, both ponies taking the game very seriously.  Apple Bloom was sprawled out on the throw rug, doing her homework.  Big McIntosh read.  Granny Smith, seated in her rocking chair, alternated between knitting and napping.

By the time I finished my practice, the muscles in my forelegs were aching.  The fire in the fireplace warmed the room, but the warmth of this family was even more soothing for my tired body.  I yawned.

Applejack heard my yawn, and glanced at the clock.  “Apple Bloom, it’s time to get ready for bed.  You have school in the morning.”

“Awwww,” Apple Bloom replied, setting aside the book she had been reading.

As the filly departed, Applejack turned to me.  “You should get to bed too.  You need your rest, more than any of us.”

I walked upstairs.  I needed to wait for Apple Bloom to leave the one bathroom upstairs.  After a few minutes, she departed.  She didn’t make eye contact with me.

After washing up and brushing my teeth, I went to our room.  Apple Bloom was under the covers, her eyes closed.  I set my walker at the foot of the bed and contemplated how to get in.  It was easy enough to place my forelegs on the bed, to pick something off of them, but getting my hind legs on the bed… well, this still wasn’t easy for me.

My knees shook as I steeled myself for the jump.  I pushed off the floor, but only succeeded at getting a few more inches of my body on the bed.  I slid backwards.  I breathed in, and jumped again.  Still no good.

“Apple Bloom?” I called quietly.  She didn’t stir.

“Apple Bloom?” I called again, louder.

“What?” she replied irately.

“I can’t climb into bed.  Can you help me?” I said.

Apple Bloom sighed and climbed out of bed.  This time, when I jumped onto the bed, Apple Bloom pushed at the same time.  With her assistance, I ended up sprawled on the bed.

“Thanks,” I said.  Apple Bloom just grunted in response, and she returned to her bed.  I crawled under the covers and blew out the candle.

I lay on my back, staring at the patterns cast on the room by the light of Luna’s moon shining through the window.  This family had no issue with sharing a small space.  They enjoyed being crowded around the kitchen table, with barely enough space for all the ponies and their food.  They fit themselves into the living room.  And they shared two small bathrooms.  Thinking about it, Apple Bloom probably wasn’t unhappy about sharing her room.  That meant there was another reason.

A few seconds later, I realized the reason.

“Apple Bloom?  Why don’t you like me?” I asked hesitantly.

I heard her shift in her bed.  “You want to know why?  You’re a bully.  You’ve done nothing but make fun of me for the last three years.  You made fun of the way I talked.  You made fun of my family.  You made fun of anything I made.  And the minute you got your cutie mark, you teased me for not having one.”

It was obvious this had been eating her up.  It sounded like Apple Bloom had been bottling up these words for years, and now they were all spilling out.

“When I heard you were in a coma, I was happy, because that meant you would finally shut up!  And then Applejack said if you recovered, you’d move in here.  I….”  Apple Bloom choked back a sob.  “I almost didn’t want you to get better.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“You’re sorry?” she replied incredulously.  “You think that makes it all better?”

“I’m sorry!  I can’t remember any of that!”

In the near darkness, I still saw Apple Bloom stare at me.  “You can’t remember?  Well, I can’t forget,” she said.  She turned away from me.  I heard her sobbing.

At the time I fell asleep, I heard two ponies sobbing.

> Chapter 4: Steps
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 4: Steps





“Wake up, sugarcube.”

I rubbed my eyes with my fetlocks and opened them.  Applejack was standing over me, smiling warmly.  I looked to my left.  Apple Bloom wasn’t there.

“Where’s Apple Bloom?” I asked.

“She’s already left for school,” Applejack replied.  That’s right; it was Monday.

“How long until I can go back to school?” I wondered.

“All depends on what the doctor says,” Applejack answered.  “Probably not for two weeks, at least.  In the meantime, you still have assignments to do.”

I pushed the cover aside and righted myself.  The distance from the bed to the floor loomed large in my mind.

“Need help?” Applejack offered.

Getting down wouldn’t be hampered too much by my weak hind legs.  “I think I can do this,” I said.

I jumped.  I winced slightly as my legs touched the floor, but the pain passed quickly.

“Do you need anything?” Applejack asked.

“No, I’m good,” I replied.

“Well, don’t be afraid to ask if you need something.”  Applejack headed out of the room, but first turned to me.  “How are you feeling, sugarcube?”

“I’m fine,” I said.





I wasn’t fine, not really.  I was trying to rebuild my life, only to find my old life haunting me.  I didn’t know what I did, but I hurt Apple Bloom.  And I didn’t know why.  It bothered me more than I thought it would.

Much like the previous day, I spent the day working by myself.  Granny Smith kept herself busy, tending to the homestead, while the younger adults worked almost nonstop in the orchard.

I barely saw Apple Bloom that day.  She returned from school that afternoon, but immediately headed out.  Whatever she was doing kept her occupied both before and after dinner.  Without seeing the expression on her face, I could pretend we were all one happy family.

That illusion was shattered at night.  We didn’t speak, except for me asking for her help getting onto the bed.  But the chill I felt had nothing to do with the fall weather.

The next morning, my studies were interrupted by Applejack.  “You’ve got your appointment at the hospital today,” she reminded me.

Again, Applejack carried me on her back as we traveled into town.  I stared at the changing leaves of the many apple trees.

“Something bothering you, sugarcube?” Applejack asked.  Her words brought me out of my haze.  I started to say I was fine, but something made me stop.

I took a deep breath before speaking.  “Am I a bad pony?”

“Are you having problems with Apple Bloom?” Applejack asked.

“She... she isn’t happy to be around me.  But why?  Am I a bad pony?”

Applejack tilted her head back.  From my vantage point, I couldn’t see the expression on her face, but she appeared to be thinking of her response.

“I don’t think anypony’s truly bad, at her core,” Applejack said, and then paused.  “But I think you worked very hard to become a bad pony.”

My heart sank.  I didn’t want to hear that.  If it was just Apple Bloom saying it, then I could think that maybe, it was just some problem between us.  But if everypony thought that?

“Why?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  None of us know.  We talked with your father, your teacher, anypony we thought might be able to help.  But nothing made you change.  The only pony who knows why is you, but that’s trapped in your head.”

I fidgeted, twisting my forelegs as I rode on Applejack’s back.

“Look, I’ll talk to Apple Bloom, tell her to give you another chance.  But just like your own recovery, repairing this situation between you two won’t be easy, or fast,” Applejack said.





“Have you been doing your exercises at home?” Muscle Memory asked.

“I have,” I replied.

“And how is it going?”

“Okay, I guess,” I said.  “I’m still not too good at holding things, and I’m having trouble jumping onto bed.”

“I think we should spend today’s session working on strengthening the muscles in your hind legs,” the physical therapist said.  “Let’s head to the weight room.”

Another room in the hospital, near to the one where I had done my earlier therapy, housed a variety of weight machines.  Metal bars, wire cables, and painted iron weights promised a difficult session.  Muscle Memory directed me to one machine, where I rested my body on a padded bench.

The therapist placed my rear hooves into straps and tightened them.  “Now, lift your hind legs, and then lower them,” she said.  I did so, feeling a slight resistance and hearing metallic clanks behind me.

I heard the sound of metal banging together.  “Your form is good.  Let’s try it with weights,” she said.  “Please do ten lifts.”

I lifted again, a much more difficult exercise, given the weights added to the device.  It went okay, to start, but by the tenth lift, I was moving much slower.  I felt the sweat collect on my brow.

“Very good.  Now ten more.”

I groaned.

Fortunately, I didn’t spend all my time on this machine.  Unfortunately, I did spend all my time on one machine or another, pulling or pushing against my heavy iron opposition.  By the end of my physical therapy session, I was glad I still had my walker.  I leaned against it, hoping my hind legs wouldn’t collapse outright.  Muscle Memory departed, leaving me to rest.

“Well, you look plum tuckered, sugarcube.”

I looked up at Applejack.  I was glad she was there to take me home.

“I am tired,” I admitted.

“It’s a good tired, right?” she replied.  “The therapist says you did good today.”

I nodded.  I’ll have to do good every day.





I received a pleasant surprise that night.  When I returned to our bedroom, I found steps leading up to my bed.  It was simple wooden construction, even less adorned than my bed.  Just two steps, but those steps were what I needed to get into my bed on my own.  And I recognized what covered the steps.  The doormat, and its counterpart from the rear door, had been tacked to the stairs, repurposed to stop my hooves from slipping, making the surface safer for my unsteady legs.

I climbed the steps and then hopped onto the bed.  I smiled over this simple success, and repeated the moves two more times.  At that point, I heard hoofsteps, and Apple Bloom entered our room.

“Hi,” I offered hesitantly.

Apple Bloom first looked away, but then she looked at me, though briefly.  “Hi,” she replied.

“Did you make these steps for me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Thank you, Apple Bloom,” I said.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered.

I hadn’t seen much of Apple Bloom, so she probably spent some significant portion of her free time making these steps.  That was time she could have spent on herself, but didn’t.  “No, really, thank you.  That was really kind of you.”

“Look, I just didn’t want to have to keep helping you onto the bed,” Apple Bloom said defensively.

I looked back at the stairs, seeing the mats attached for my safety.  I hoped there was more to her gesture than that.  So I proceeded as if that were the case.  “You made that, even though you didn’t have to.  Maybe I haven’t done anything to deserve something so nice, but from now on, I’m going to focus on being somepony worthy of kind gestures.”

I stepped forward and embraced Apple Bloom.  She squirmed as my forelegs reached around her shoulders and withers.  I closed my eyes, focusing on the warmth, a feeling not caused just by her nearness.

Then, I felt Apple Bloom return the embrace.





I was surprised by how good I felt the next day.  I had a little lingering soreness, but I felt more energetic.  I was ready to move again.

It was too bad I still had the walker.

I used the upstairs hallway as a test to see how fast I could walk.  I could almost run, pushing the walker on its little wheels.  Climbing the stairs was no longer a challenge, although getting into bed still required the help of Apple Bloom’s steps.

I attacked my schoolwork with additional enthusiasm.  With each chapter assignment completed, I rewarded myself with a walk around the house.

Conversations with the Apple family started to make more sense.  I was picking up on the details of the farm, and asking questions about what was going on.  They were getting ready for cider season, which sounded very important.  It was going to keep them all very busy, even busier than normal.

I even managed a few short conversations with Apple Bloom.  We talked about school, the filly mentioning a number of names that meant nothing to me.  My body may be healing, but I feared I was never going to recover my memories.

Perhaps it was better if I never did.





“I’m very happy with your progress so far,” Doctor Heart said, following my Friday checkup.  He had lowered himself, placing him closer to my eye level.  “And I think you don’t need this anymore,” he continued, taking the walker.

That was the good news.  The bad news was, following another tough physical therapy session with Muscle Memory, I wanted the support the walker provided.

Applejack noticed.  She stepped next to me, allowing me to lean on her.  “So what’s our next step?” she asked the doctor.

“Let’s do the same two visits next week,” Doctor Heart said.  He turned to me.  “Diamond Tiara, I’ll clear you to walk all you want, but don’t overdo it.  I’ll also clear you for light housework.”  He looked intently at the sturdy farmpony.  “And I mean light work as I define it.”

“I understand completely, Doctor,” Applejack said.  “I’m not going to let Diamond Tiara hurt herself.”

“What about school?” I said.

“I think you’ll be ready for school after another week.  If you feel you’re ready for school, that is.”

I nodded.  “Thanks, Doctor,” I said.

We left the hospital, the brisk autumn air enveloping us.  “How are you feeling, sugarcube?” Applejack asked.

“A bit tired,” I said.

“You hungry?”

My stomach wasn’t growling or anything, but now that she mentioned it, I was hungry.  My appetite had returned enough that I was eating full meals, and that physical therapy took a lot out of me.  “I am,” I said.

“Then let’s get something good to eat.”

Our destination was Sugarcube Corner, the local bakery.  I had seen its picture, and Applejack mentioned it once or twice, but to me, it was just another place I didn’t know but felt I should have remembered.

The establishment was quiet; not surprising, given that it was early afternoon.  The plump blue mare behind the counter, another pony unfamiliar to me, greeted us warmly.  My eyes, however, were drawn to the incredible display of pastries.

“How about some cupcakes?” Applejack suggested.

I nodded.  And before long, I was seated at a table, a seriously huge cupcake in front of me.  Pink cake and white frosting awaited me.  The raspberry flavor of the cake combined wonderfully with the vanilla buttercream.  It took a while to finish the cake.

“You think you’re ready to walk back?” Applejack asked.

I probably couldn’t have handled the walk back straight out of the hospital.  But after the rest and food, I was ready.  I nodded eagerly.

It was nice, walking so far on my own four hooves again.  Applejack kept to a slow pace, constantly looking back at me.

“Diamond Tiara, if you’re tired, let me know,” Applejack said as we approached the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres.

I had made it this far; I was going to complete the trip.  “I’m okay,” I said.

“Just remember, we’re there for you.  All of us.”





I sat at the kitchen table, taking notes on a chapter about early Equestrian history.  The names of noble families were beginning to blur.  I needed a break.  My attention was drawn to Granny Smith, beginning her preparations for dinner.

For a week, I haven’t done anything for my new family.  Well, I was officially cleared to help now.  “Do you need any assistance, Granny Smith?” I asked.

“Need any what?” she replied, holding a hoof to her ear.

“I said, do you need any help?” I repeated, louder.

“Help?  Now, dearie, you don’t have to help,” Granny Smith replied.

“But I want to help.”

“Hmmm.  You ever made shepherd’s pie before?” Granny Smith said.

I think that’s a food, but I don’t remember ever eating it.  I shook my head.

“Well, how about you start with boiling some water for the potatoes?” she suggested.

That was more my speed.  Closing the textbook, I got up and headed to the cupboards.  After a few tries, I found the one with pots and pans.  I took a large pot in my mouth and lifted it to the sink.  I nudged the tap on with my hoof.  Once the pot was filled, I turned off the water and carefully moved the now heavier pot to the stove.

Granny Smith was merrily chopping vegetables.  After a while, her ear pivoted.  “Eh?” she muttered.

I watched as she looked at the pot of water curiously.  She then walked over to the stove, turning it on.  “What, haven’t you boiled water before?” Granny Smith said.

I stopped.  Now that she mentioned it, I couldn’t remember anything about cooking.  Was it something I forgot, or something I never learned in the first place?

“Well then, there’s lesson one for you.  To boil water, put a pot of water above the fire.  And when bubbles rise to the surface, the water’s boiling,” Granny Smith explained.

I can do that.

Baby steps.

> Chapter 5: Crusading
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 5: Crusading





The brush fell from my mouth.  I turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower.  Cleaning myself was one task I was fortunately able to handle on my own, but all the twisting and scrubbing was surprisingly tiring.  As I toweled off, I heard conversation drifting up the stairs.

“But I promised we’d go crusading today!” Apple Bloom said.

Applejack’s reply was harder to hear, but didn’t sound positive.

“But it’s been two weeks!”  Apple Bloom’s voice, with just a hint of whining, was much easier to pick up.

I headed downstairs, stopping halfway down as Applejack replied to Apple Bloom.  “The apple cellar has to be swept out, or we’ll have no place to store the harvest safely,” she said.  “That can’t be put off any longer.”

Apple Bloom pouted, her big eyes watering adorably.  It must be hard for any adult to turn her down after seeing that.

“Okay, you can go this afternoon, on two conditions,” Applejack said.  “First, you get the cellar swept, and second, you take Diamond Tiara with you.”

It looked like Apple Bloom saw this as a bad idea.  “But the other girls....”

“No buts,” Applejack interrupted.  She glanced up the stairs, acknowledging my presence.  “If you haven’t noticed, Diamond Tiara also needs to discover her special talent.”

I finished my descent.  “Maybe I can help you with the sweeping,” I offered.

Apple Bloom let out a surprised gasp, realizing I must have heard something.  “Uh, okay,” she said.  “The brooms are over here.”

We walked over to a cluttered closet.  Apple Bloom pulled out one broom, and then rummaged deeper in the closet.

“What are you worried about?” I said softly.

“Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo... you treated them as bad as you treated me,” she said.

I hung my head.  I was afraid of that.  “But they’re students, right?  I’ll eventually go back to school, so it’s not like I can’t not see them.”

“But it would have been nice to talk to them about... this,” Apple Bloom replied.  “You know, soften the blow, or something.”  The sound of things falling over came from the closet before Apple Bloom emerged triumphant, an older broom in her mouth.

I compared the two brooms.  The first one she found had a fan of even bristles in a trapezoidal shape.  The second broom was more conical, the bristles a bit more varied.

“I knew there’d be another broom in here!” Apple Bloom said, holding the older broom.  “I wonder if Granny Smith made that one?”

“Who made the newer one?” I asked.

“I think we bought it at the store,” she replied.

“So which one is better?”

“Well, there’s a reason the old broom was buried in the closet.”





The cellar had two entrances.  A larger outside entrance, double doors nearly parallel with the ground, served to bring in the bounty of the farm.  But a narrow set of stairs connected the kitchen with the cellar, enabling the family to access the stored food without setting hoof outside.  It was those stairs Apple Bloom led me down.

A faint musty smell greeted me as I entered the cellar.  Shelves held jars of preserved foods.  One alcove held a variety of household items in storage, suggesting a family that didn’t waste anything.  But beyond that, the cellar looked unused.  Empty bushel baskets were all that occupied the empty space.

“Let’s start by cleaning up that area.  Then we can move the baskets, and sweep up there,” Apple Bloom suggested.

I took the old broom in my mouth, balancing it against my foreleg, and started at one corner of the flagstone basement floor.  Fine gray dust was pushed with each turn of my neck, leaving a telltale trail of dust that required a second or third push.  With our mouths thus occupied, we didn’t talk much.  After a surprisingly short amount of time, we had swept half the cellar.

“Shoot,” Apple Bloom said after dropping the broom from her mouth.  “I forgot the dust pan.”

I spit out the broom and rested it against the wall.  “Do you want me to start moving baskets?” I asked.

“Sure.  Just keep them away from both entrances,” she replied.

I stretched, trying to work out the kinks in my neck.  I began the process of moving the baskets.  Apple Bloom soon returned, tackling the mount of dirt our efforts had collected.

Behind one of the baskets, I found an old apple.  Very old.  Its skin was wrinkled, as if it had been desiccated by the passage of time.  “Ew,” I uttered, although it didn’t smell or anything.

Apple Bloom came over to check out what I had found.  “I don’t think I’d even feed that to the pigs,” she assessed.  “Put it by the stairs, and we’ll add it to the compost heap.”

It was hard to gauge the passage of time, with the only light coming from small windows near the ceiling of the cellar, but we finished our chore fairly quickly.  Apple Bloom was definitely motivated.

“We’re done.  Now, let’s get to crusading!” Apple Bloom said cheerily.





I followed Apple Bloom into the orchard.  This path we took didn’t make any sense, until I spied a small tree house built in the branches of a particularly large tree.

“Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are probably already there, waiting for me,” Apple Bloom explained.  She walked up the wooden ramp.  I followed, cautiously.

The fillies inside the tree house greeted Apple Bloom warmly.  But their happy expressions disappeared when I followed her in.  I cast my eyes away from their disapproving gaze, choosing to focus on the walls.  A couple of posters, some memorabilia, and a hoof-drawn map, inanimate objects all, were more welcoming than the two fillies.

The awkward silence was broken by the white unicorn.  “What is she doing here?” she asked Apple Bloom.  That didn’t make me feel any less awkward.

“Girls, Diamond Tiara is here because... because she needs to discover her special talent too,” Apple Bloom replied.  When she paused, I suspected she was thinking about saying “Because Applejack said so.”

“We already know her talent is being a pain in the flank!” the orange pegasus retorted.

“Actually, I don’t know anything about myself anymore,” I said.

“Are you serious?” the unicorn replied.  “She can’t be serious,” she said to Apple Bloom.

“That’s what I told you at school,” Apple Bloom replied.

“What if she’s faking?” the pegasus said.  She approached me, bringing her muzzle near mine.  Her tiny wings were raised, probably an attempt to make herself look more intimidating.  “Is this some big prank?”

“No!  I... I....”  I backed into the corner, covering my eyes with my foreleg.  “I’m sorry!” I yelled.  I fought it, but the tears flowed.

“Scootaloo!  Stop that!” Apple Bloom screamed.  Calmly, she continued.  “Diamond Tiara has been through something that I... that a good pony wouldn’t wish on anypony!  Right now, she’s scared, and needs to find out who she is.  And that’s best done with good friends.  Right?”

The other two didn’t look convinced, but they both said “Yeah.”

Apple Bloom turned to me.  “Diamond Tiara, do you remember my friends?” she asked.

I wiped away the tears with my fetlock.  “No,” I replied.

She turned to her friends.  “Then let’s treat this like you’re meeting a brand new crusader, so introduce yourselves.”

“Do I need to pull out the bongos?” the pegasus asked.

“Let’s just do the introductions,” Apple Bloom said.

Again, the two fillies were hesitant, so I spoke first.  “I’m Diamond Tiara, and I guess I’m starting over here at Sweet Apple Acres.”  I extended my hoof.

The unicorn was the first to approach.  She bumped my hoof and introduced herself.  “Sweetie Belle.  I live with my parents at the edge of town, but spend a lot of time with my sister at Carousel Boutique.”

The pegasus then approached, her wings relaxed at her sides.  “Scootaloo.  I live not too far from Sweetie Belle.”

“How did you three meet?” I asked.

“Well, Scootaloo and I have been friends for a long time, being almost neighbors,” Sweetie Belle said.  “We didn’t know Apple Bloom well, but we stuck up for her at a party, and now we’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!”

“And we’re never going to separate until we all earn our Cutie Marks!” Scootaloo added.

“So did you think of anything before we got here?” Apple Bloom asked hopefully.

The other fillies’ smiles dropped.  “Nothing,” Sweetie Belle said.

“I still think we should try hot air ballooning!” Scootaloo said.  “Maybe Twilight Sparkle can lend us her balloon!”

“I don’t even know if that’s real!” Apple Bloom said.  “I think she just conjures one when she needs to fly to Cloudsdale.”

“I guess balloons aren’t common here?” I asked.

“No,” Apple Bloom said.  “But what about Summer Breeze?”

“Yeah!  She does hot air balloon rides!” Sweetie Belle said.

“We’ll borrow her balloon!” Scootaloo said.

“Cutie Mark Crusader balloonists, yay!” the trio shouted, raising their hooves together.

That didn’t sound right to me.  A pony giving up control over the source of her livelihood?  “I don’t think she’d let fillies like us take her balloon,” I said.  “Our best bet would be to go for a ride, and maybe she’d let us work the controls for a little bit, under her supervision.”  I paused.  “But I don’t have any bits to pay for it.”

I don’t know why, but that felt very strange to say.  At the same time, I realized the tree house had fallen silent.

“That’s not how crusading works!” Sweetie Belle said.

“Yeah, way to be a downer, Diamond Tiara,” Scootaloo added.

Apple Bloom stepped between me and the others.  “I think Diamond Tiara’s right.  I don’t think we should be trying to fly a balloon on our own.  Now, my sister helped retrieve Summer Breeze’s balloon one time from the Everfree Forest, so maybe she’d let us ride for free, but there’s another problem.  I think she’s closed for the season.  It’s a little cold out there.”  To punctuate her statement, the wind rattled the tree house.  A wisp of chill air blew through the doorway, and I shivered.

“I don’t get it.  Why are you trying to find your talents with such strange activities?” I asked.  “Why not more normal things, like cooking?”

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle rolled their eyes.  “We’ve tried everything!” Scootaloo exclaimed.

“I tried making breakfast for my sister, and nearly burned down her house,” Sweetie Belle said.

“I tried selling apples, just like my sister.  I cost us a week’s worth of profits with my mistakes,” Apple Bloom said.

“I tried making a ramp, to use with my scooter, and ended up with kindling and a dozen splinters,” Scootaloo admitted.

“We all tried making taffy.  We were picking out dried candy from our tails for a week,” Sweetie Belle added.

“We’ve been doing this for a while,” Apple Bloom said.

“And all we’ve accomplished is one mistake after another.  And you just laughed at us!”  Scootaloo said.

There it was.  Another reminder of my past, hitting me like a kick to the barrel.  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.  “If you try again, I won’t laugh at you.”

The three fillies looked at me like I was speaking Prench.  “Try again?” they said in unison.

“Why would we do something we know isn’t our special talent?” Sweetie Belle said.

Now it was my turn to be confused.  “It’s normal to get everything right your first try?”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo said.  “Rainbow Dash got her cutie mark in her first race, and did a Sonic Rainboom too!”

“Applejack got her mark the instant she decided home would be Sweet Apple Acres,” Apple Bloom said.

“And my sister discovered her talent for finding gems and her talent for fashion on the same day!” Sweetie Belle said.

“Didn’t Rarity say she struggled with those costumes until she found those gems?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Maybe, but....  Hey!  We could go gem hunting!” Sweetie Belle said.

Apple Bloom looked at me, then at the others.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea for today.  Diamond Tiara just got rid of her walker yesterday,” she explained.  Awkward silence followed this statement.

“When I woke up, I could barely move my legs.  I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t feed myself,” I said.  “The first time I took a step, I fell.  I didn’t get it right on my first try.  It took a lot of practice.

“I guess what I’m saying is that trying again has been my life ever since I woke up.  It hasn’t given me a cutie mark, but it’s given me the ability to walk again.”

“Let’s go into town, and find something to do,” Scootaloo suggested.  “Even if it’s something we’ve done before.”

We all nodded in agreement.





I was afraid my recovering strength would be unable to handle the walk to Ponyville and back.  Fortunately, we had a better way to get there.  Scootaloo had a scooter, with a wagon attached to it.  The rest of us sat in the wagon, which I found to be a bit of a tight fit.

Scootaloo donned a helmet, as did Sweetie Belle.  Apple Bloom had a helmet as well, but she put it on my head.  “We’ll need to get you one soon,” she said.

The pegasus kicked with a hind leg, and at the same time flapped her wings.  They didn’t look like much, but her wings were able to move the scooter and wagon at a rapid speed.  We bounced along the dirt road as we headed to Ponyville.  This mode of travel was a lot more fun than walking!

Apple Bloom pointed out buildings as we went.  She identified homes of ponies I didn’t recognize and businesses I may or may not have frequented in the past.  Still, I was happy for the information.  I would have to relearn it eventually.

As we neared the center of Ponyville, the other three fillies shouted suggestions at each other.  They must have reached an understanding, as we stopped at one of the few buildings I recognized, Sugarcube Corner.

The blue mare from yesterday was absent.  Instead, a younger pink mare was behind the counter.  As the four of us entered, she smiled widely, inhaling for a long time.  And then….

“Ohmygosh!  You’re out of the hospital!  And that means we need to throw you a ‘You’re out of the hospital and you’re all better and you have new friends’ party!  And everypony will be there!  We’ll have cake and punch and music and….”

I instinctually stepped back in response to the mare’s verbal assault.  “Actually, I…” I started.  I wanted to say that no, nopony would be there, if my interaction with these three fillies was any indication.  “I’m not all better.  I still have a lot of work to do,” I said.

The hyperactive mare stopped mid-word.  “Oh,” she said.  I thought I heard a hiss of air, like a balloon deflating.  But she smiled again, and rushed into the kitchen.  Before I could blink, she returned, cupcake in hoof.  “At least I can give you this ‘you’re out of the hospital’ cupcake I just made for you!”

I blinked.  There’s no way she just made that.  But the other fillies seemed to treat this occurrence as perfectly normal.  “Thank you,” I told the friendly mare.  I bit into the cupcake.  It was still slightly warm, but not warm enough to melt the impressive mound of frosting.  And it was delicious.

It was nice to know I had one friend here.  I guessed that she was friends with everypony, though.

“Actually, Pinkie Pie, we were hoping you could try teaching us to bake again,” Sweetie Belle said.

Pinkie Pie’s smile got even bigger somehow.  “That sounds super duper fun!”  The moment I put the last bite of cupcake into my mouth, she wrapped the four of us in her forelegs and pushed us into the kitchen.  With a blur of activity, she brought out bowls, utensils, and ingredients.

“Now, I told you how to make cupcakes, Apple Bloom, so this will be a refresher, but for the rest of you, here’s my super sweet lesson!”  Pinkie Pie danced around the kitchen as she started to sing.

All you have to do is take a cup of flour! 
Add it to the mix! 
Now just take a little something sweet, not sour! 
A bit of salt, just a pinch! 

Baking these treats is such a cinch! 
Add a teaspoon of vanilla! 
Add a little more, and you count to four, 
And you never get your fill of... 

Cupcakes! So sweet and tasty! 
Cupcakes! Don't be too hasty! 
Cupcakes! Cupcakes, cupcakes, CUPCAKES! 


The others followed Pinkie Pie’s moves, joining her singing and dancing.  It was catchy, and I tried to join in, but she was dancing around on her hind legs.  My legs protested as I reared up, and I dropped back to my normal posture.  Without being able to dance, I focused on the words.

Wow.  There’s actually a recipe in that song, and Pinkie Pie was making the batter according to that recipe.  The lyrics weren’t the complete recipe, of course.  I needed to watch what Pinkie Pie was doing as well.  For example, that mix was butter and eggs and sugar.  Add flour, add anything sweet, then there was milk and vanilla, then more flour, then more milk.

The song finished, and Pinkie Pie, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo were all standing on their hind legs, their forelegs outstretched in silly poses.  Each had some cooking utensil held in her pastern.

“Well, let’s get baking!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed.

The other fillies fell to their hooves and looked at each other.  “So, where do we start?” asked Scootaloo.

“Oh, you want to hear the song again?  ‘All you have to do….’” Pinkie Pie started.

I held up a hoof.  “Do you have a written recipe?” I asked.

Pinkie Pie looked at me as if I were crazy.  “Who needs a recipe?” she asked.

“I do,” I said.  The others murmured in agreement.

“You silly fillies!  If I used a recipe, I never would have discovered chocolate hot sauce cupcakes or raspberry jalapeño filling!”

I shuddered.

“Was that your first attempt at baking?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Of course not!” Pinkie Pie replied happily.

“Then what was your first cupcake?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Well, when I baked all those treats for my family that time I saw the rainbow and threw a party and got my cutie mark, I was a mare possessed!  But I got better.”  Pinkie Pie actually paused to think.  “Now, the Cakes have a really popular vanilla cake!  I could teach you that, before you try baking with kumquat marmalade and durian fruit!”

Something about those ingredients made me queasy.  But I focused on the crusade at hoof.  “Can you tell us about the mix?  Butter, then eggs, then sugar?”

I watched as Pinkie Pie threw a cup and a half of butter into the mixer.  The magical crystal glowed as the mixer creamed the butter.  “Nope, butter, then sugar, then eggs!”  She had a real affinity for the kitchen, measuring each ingredient effortlessly.  I counted three cups of sugar, then six eggs.  Then, four cups of flour, mixed with two teaspoons of baking powder, went into one bowl, while a large mixing cup with a cup and a half of milk had a little more than a teaspoon of vanilla added to it.  Again, without trying, she alternated the dry and wet ingredients, ending up with a perfectly smooth batter in the end.

With a kick, the mixing bowl flew into the air, dropping the batter evenly into muffin tins.  She then popped the tray into the oven.  “Cupcakes!” she sung.

Pinkie Pie grabbed us and placed us in a line, next to the island, and gave us each a bowl.  “Now why don’t you all try it?” Pinkie Pie urged.  “Make a batch of cupcakes one-third the size of mine, and you’ll have a nice treat to take home!  And who knows?  Maybe you’ll find the inspiration to create the next pickle and watermelon cupcake sensation!”

“I think I’ll stick with vanilla,” Sweetie Belle said.

Pinkie Pie departed, heading to the front to greet a customer.  I went to collect my dry ingredients.  Coming back with the bowl of flour in my mouth, I saw a problem.  “That’s too much butter, Scootaloo,” I said after spitting out the bowl.

“Huh?” she said.

Sweetie Belle peered into Scootaloo’s bowl.  “She’s right.  That’s enough for all of us!”

Apple Bloom fetched a spoon, and divided the butter into portions for all of us.  Then we continued our work.

“Okay, it was butter, then sugar, then eggs,” I recalled.  “I think I saw Pinkie Pie adding the eggs one at a time.

“What was that?” Apple Bloom asked, as she added all her eggs at once.  She was rewarded with a splatter of egg yolk in her mane.

After some more mixing, we each had a bowl of batter.  “Now how long do we bake it?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“I don’t think Pinkie Pie told us,” I said.

“These ovens are heated already,” Apple Bloom said.  “Let’s just use them.”

And then, we all sat there, off white batter in metal tins baking, four sets of six future cupcakes.

“This is taking too long,” Scootaloo complained, after little more than a minute had passed.  She turned up the heat on her oven.

“I wonder where the frosting is,” Sweetie Belle said, opening some jars.

Pinkie Pie poked her head out of one of the jars.  “Did somepony say frosting?”  I jumped backwards in surprise, bumping the island.  One of our dirty bowls landed on my head.

“Silly Diamond Tiara!  That’s not a helmet!”  She extracted herself from the jar cleanly, with no visible sign that she entered the kitchen via a jar of flour or sugar.  From somewhere, she pulled out a royal guardspony’s helmet, and placed it on her head.  “This is a helmet!”

I moved the bowl from my head to the sink.  I looked at the others.  Egg was in Apple Bloom’s mane, flour covered Scootaloo’s wings, and food coloring somehow stained Sweetie Belle’s rump.  “We look terrible,” I said.

“At least it’s not tree sap!” the others said in unison, then laughed.  I couldn’t help but join in.

Pinkie Pie wasn’t distracted by our conversation.  She had a bowl filled with butter, and was balancing a huge bag of powdered sugar on her head.  “And here’s the simplest frosting ever!”  With the mixer running, she creamed the butter, and then slowly poured the sugar in.  I couldn’t believe how much sugar was absorbed by the much smaller amount of butter!

We pulled our cupcakes out of the oven.  They were golden brown, except for Scootaloo’s, which were more of a dark brown.  Once they cooled, Pinkie Pie helped us frost them.

“And now for the final touch!” she chirped.  Pinkie Pie brought out decorations.  All sorts of colored sugars, candies, and fondant were placed in front of us.  Our hooves reached for the colorful decorations, and we each focused on our own cupcakes.

Ten minutes later, we stood back and admired our work.  The others turned and checked their flanks, disappointed to find them still blank.  I followed their lead, even though I wasn’t expecting anything to happen.  I was just happy to spend time with these fillies, even though I felt like an outsider.  Plus, I learned something a lot more interesting than a teacher’s lesson.

“Well, that was a bust,” Apple Bloom said.

“We got cupcakes, though,” Sweetie Belle responded.

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Scootaloo asked.

Again, the group fell silent.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Apple Bloom said.





After we, and our cupcakes, made it safely home, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle waved goodbye, the pegasus taking her friend home.

“That went better than I expected,” Apple Bloom said.

I shook my head.  “I felt like they still don’t like me,” I said.

“They have lots of reason not to like you,” Apple Bloom replied.

“What did I do?”  I didn’t know if I wanted to hear the answer to that, but I asked anyway.

“Same things you did to me, more or less,” Apple Bloom responded noncommittally.  “Do you remember what Sweetie Belle said about how we met?”

I tried to recall.  “A party?”

Apple Bloom nodded.  “It was your party, the party celebrating you earning your cutie mark.  Even though you should have been happy, and could have just enjoyed the party, you still took the time to make fun of me.  But Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo stood up for me, stood up for all blank flanks.  And the adults at the party supported them.  Suddenly, all the attention was on us, and not on you.  Ever since then, you’ve had a special dislike of us.”

The good feelings from today were gone.  I had another reminder of the kind of pony I was.  If only I could make things up to them, show them I was throwing away the detritus of my past.

Wait.

“I have an idea of what we could do tomorrow,” I said.

“Like a crusading idea?” Apple Bloom said hopefully.

“Something like that.  So, could you teach me a little about woodworking after dinner?”

“What?  I mean, sure, but what does that have to do with anything?” Apple Bloom wondered.

“You’ll see.”





After dinner, Apple Bloom took me to a shed near the barn.  It was cluttered, much like the farmhouse.  But there was a clear area set up for work, with a sawpony at its center.  A number of tools hung on the wall above a work bench.

“I’m happy to help, Diamond Tiara, but I need some idea of what’s going on,” Apple Bloom said.

Fortunately, I had some time over dinner to think about what I would say.  “I want to build something, just out of scrap wood, for tomorrow.  Nothing permanent; we can put it in the fireplace later.  So I want you to teach me about sawing and nailing and all that.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of wood scraps,” Apple Bloom said, pointing to the leftover wood from some past project.  “And if it’s just going to be kindling later, we’ve got plenty of firewood.”

Apple Bloom showed me how to use the saws safely.  She introduced me to various kinds of hammers, and tools for shaping wood, like planes and rasps.  When she started talking about mortise and tenon joints, I finally stopped her.  “This isn’t permanent, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Apple Bloom said.  “Do you need anything else?”

“Do you have any paint?” I asked.

“We have plenty of paint, if you want barn red!” Apple Bloom said, smiling.  “There might be some white paint from painting the house, and maybe some watercolors in my closet, from school art projects.”

“Anything you could find would be wonderful,” I said reassuringly.

I got to work.  I was feeling tired from a day of baking and listening to Pinkie Pie, but I was determined to complete my project.  Apple Bloom came through with the paint, and also brought brushes ranging from big ones for painting barns to little ones for painting on canvas.  Meanwhile, I struggled to form a large log, some fallen branches, and other scrap wood into the shape in my mind.

It was rather late when I returned to the house.  I scraped paint and sawdust out of my coat as I washed up in the kitchen sink.  Following that, I crawled into bed, wishing Apple Bloom a good night.





The next thing I knew, it was morning.  I was up in time for breakfast, and then helped with the chores as best I could.  Later in the morning, we heard a knock at the door.

“I bet that’s Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom said.

I followed Apple Bloom to the door.  Her assessment was correct; her friends were there.  “Come in!” she said.

“Got any crusading ideas?” Sweetie Belle asked as they entered.

“No, but...” Apple Bloom said, glancing back at me.

“I have an idea,” I said.  I remembered that I forgot something, and started upstairs.  “Meet me out by the barn, but give me five minutes.”

Confused, the three fillies headed outside.





I smiled as the Cutie Mark Crusaders found me, standing by my creation.  A canvas tarp covered the fruits of last night’s labor.

“What kind of crusading idea is this?” Scootaloo asked.

“Nothing much.  I thought we could try throwing.  You know, maybe discover a talent in athletics?” I said.

“But why’d you come out here?” Sweetie Belle asked, pressing her fetlock against her muzzle.  The smell from the nearby compost heap wasn’t pleasant.

“Last night, I made a target, to encourage your accuracy,” I said.  And with that, I slowly lifted the tarp.

I knew woodworking wasn’t my special talent.  The crude creation, about half my height, was vaguely pony-shaped.  The log at its center had been roughly sanded, the four legs were unnaturally straight, the tail was a motley assortment of wood scraps, and the head was particularly crude, with minimal shaping.

The others all gasped.  While the shape didn’t provide much evidence as to what I had made, the paint made it obvious.  Sure, the mixture of white and red paints created a color that lacked a slight blue tint, and the purple watercolor was scarcely visible on top of the white oil paint, but the coloration was unique.  And if the paint didn’t give it away, the diamond tiara I had placed on the figure’s head was unmistakable.

“Is this a good target to practice throwing?” I asked.

The other fillies seemed hesitant, so I took something from the compost heap—that ancient apple I had found while cleaning the basement—and threw it at the wooden effigy.  Pulverized apple painted the log making up its barrel.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo grinned, grinned as wide as Pinkie Pie, and trotted over to the compost heap, looking for their own rotten fruit.  Apple Bloom gave me this look, an “Are you crazy?” look, but decided to join in.

Cheers rang out among the Cutie Mark Crusaders as rotten fruits and vegetables splattered on the wooden effigy.  Repressed feelings flowed to the surface as they did something they had always wanted to do.  I made a few throws of my own, my way of saying that I, too, wanted to punish these past transgressions.  Scootaloo whooped as a rotten turnip knocked the tiara into the mud.

I don’t remember who came up with the idea to throw garbage at one another.  But once that happened, a full scale rotten food fight broke out. No one could stop laughing, even as filth covered us.  In the end, we all lay on our backs, trying to catch our breath, garbage and mud caking our coats.

“Think we got our cutie marks?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Who cares?” Scootaloo said.

“I was supposed to see Rarity today.  She’s going to kill me!” Sweetie Belle mentioned.

“Thanks, everypony,” I said.

Apple Bloom and I were still laughing as we headed in for lunch, my muddy tiara stuck in my mane.  Applejack took one look at us, and then recoiled as the stench reached her nostrils.  “You two, bath, now!” she ordered.

I know I didn’t get a cutie mark today.  But I think I gained two friends.

> Chapter 6: History
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 6: History





I faced another week of days spent alone.  The stack of assignments had dwindled over the past week, and I continued my work.  I didn’t have any problem with the grammar and composition assignments.    I chewed on my pencil as I looked out the window at the orchard beyond.  Sitting at the kitchen table, alone in not sharing the physical labor of the farm, I felt out of place.  Even Granny Smith was busy at work, cleaning the farmhouse as she monitored bread dough resting and pies baking.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

Granny Smith pondered my request, a hoof at her withered chin.  “Well, I reckon you could collect some food from the garden,” she finally said.

That sounded like a chore that wouldn’t task my injured body.  But I couldn’t figure out what she wanted me to do.  I didn’t want to mess this up.  “Do you think you could show me what to pick?” I asked.

“Of course, dearie,” Granny Smith said.

After one final check of the ovens, staring at the apple pies as if commanding them not to burn in her absence, the elderly mare escorted me out of the house.  After picking up a small cart and then trotting a short distance, I stood before something surprising.

I’ll be honest.  When I heard “garden”, I pictured a small wooden box, filled with topsoil and planted with a small number of herbs, vegetables, and flowers.  Instead, I saw what appeared to be an entire separate farm.  There were six rows of plants, each thirty times my body length.

“Is that... is that all ours?” I asked.

“Of course, Diamond Tiara,” Granny Smith said.  “We have four hungry ponies to feed... five now... and we can’t just go to the market for each meal.”

“So what are we picking?” I asked.

Granny Smith bucked, kicking a wicker basket over her head.  It landed, right side up, at my hooves.  “Well, we’ve got to get the tomatoes and beans in before they rot, and the cucumbers too,” she said.

“That’s a lot of food,” I said.

“It’s not all for now,” Granny Smith said.  “We’ll pickle the cucumbers and can the beans and tomatoes, giving us food for the long winter.”

I looked at the bounty of vegetables.  “Do I pick all of these?”

“Not all,” Granny Smith said.  “Look for uniform green on the beans and cucumbers, and uniform red on the tomatoes.  We’ve got a few weeks before the first frost, so no need to harvest a fruit before it’s time.”

“But these are vegetables,” I said.

“Nope!  All fruit,” Granny Smith corrected me.

“The Ministry of Agriculture treats them as vegetables, though,” I commented.  Wait, is that correct?  If it is, then that’s a strange thing to me to remember.

“I don’t suppose the Ministry cares too much about this little garden,” Granny Smith said.

Little?  Maybe relative to the orchard.

“Now, you go and pick whatever you can,” she continued.  “If you start to hurt, you get back inside right away.”  With that warning, Granny Smith headed back inside, muttering something about hearing the apple pies calling.

The work was strangely calming.  I pictured it as another form of physical therapy.  There was a lot of repetitive movements, crouching and lifting and stretching.  The vegetables, or fruits or whatever, were large enough that I handled picking them without dropping too many.  The beans were tricky at first, but I figured out how to pinch the stalks in my pastern and pull, making the bean pods land in the bucket.  Before long, Celestia’s sun was halfway to the horizon, and I had a full cart.

Though I ached more, I felt good.





More schoolwork faced me after bringing in the garden’s bounty.  I had saved history for last.  The assignments covered ancient Equestrian history, topics that were also familiar to me.  I finished the assignments Tuesday, not long after returning from physical therapy.  I wondered if any material in this textbook was from my own life.  I looked ahead to the final chapter of the book.

The Defeat of Nightmare Moon and the Return of Princess Luna, 1474

I knew that happened, but not the specifics.  I was surprised by the date listed.  This event happened only three years ago.  I closed my eyes and searched my memories.  There should be something personal.  What was my reaction?  How did I feel when it happened?

Nothing.  Much like what I remembered about the town of Ponyville, where I had apparently lived all my life, my knowledge of this event was a clinical list of facts.  I was like an outsider, newly arrived.  I bet everypony could say where they were when Nightmare Moon revealed herself.  Everypony but me.

So I read on.

My second surprise was learning that this event, of incredible historic import, happened in Ponyville.  Again, this event should mean something to me.  I continued.  A prophecy, a thousand year anniversary, the stars aid her escape, that prophecy forgotten by time.  Interesting.  I turned the page.

There was a nice illustration on this page, a picture of a stained glass window.  I read on, enjoying the account of the sun that failed to rise, and the revelation of Nightmare Moon’s return.  How the protégé of Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle, led the recovery of the legendary Elements of Harmony and confronted Nightmare Moon.  How the power of the magic of friendship won the day, cleansing the banished Princess Luna of the taint of Nightmare Moon.

I then read the caption accompanying the picture:

End of the Nightmare
Stained Glass
Prism Shine (1417- )
Canterlot Castle

Depiction of the Elements of Harmony freeing Princess Luna from the corruption of Nightmare Moon.
From left: Twilight Sparkle (magic), Applejack (honesty), Rainbow Dash (loyalty), Fluttershy (kindness), Pinkie Pie (laughter), Rarity (generosity).


I read that again.  Applejack.  I traced my hoof over the picture, matching the names to the picture.  The color scheme made it clear that the pony immortalized in stained glass was the hardworking mare who was caring for me now.  And the energetic pony who helped us bake cupcakes was there, too.

I did not expect this.

I continued reading the chapter.  It covered the reaction of the citizens to Princess Luna’s return, the legal changes involved in the reestablishment of the diarchy, and relations with neighboring nations.  The sidebar description of Princess Luna’s first royal banquet, and its many mishaps, was quite humorous.  But I couldn’t take my mind off that picture.





“Applejack?  Could I talk to you?”

Applejack looked at me and smiled warmly.  “Of course, sugarcube.  Anytime.”

As Celestia’s sun set, covering the land in twilight, it was the cue for the Apples to come in for dinner.  Braeburn had returned home, but the kitchen was still crowded with family.  Big McIntosh and Apple Bloom washed up while Granny Smith put the finishing touches on her vegetable stew, flavored with the tomatoes I had picked yesterday.

I looked at everypony in the kitchen.  “Can we talk in my room?” I asked.

Applejack nodded, and then followed me up the stairs.  Once we got to my room, I climbed the stairs onto my bed.

“What’s bothering you, sugarcube?” Applejack asked.

“Nothing’s really bothering me, but...” I said, trailing off.  I opened the history textbook to the last chapter and found a certain page.  “This is you, right?”

She looked at the stained glass picture.  “Yep, that’s me,” Applejack confirmed.

“Can you tell me about what happened?” I asked.

“Shoot, that’s a pretty long story.  Want to talk about it over dinner?” Applejack offered.

“I suppose,” I said.  “But how come you never mentioned this?”

“It’s nothing special,” she replied.  I looked at her funny.  “Okay, it is something special,” Applejack continued.  “But it doesn’t define who I am.  I’m a farmer and a sister, first and foremost.  That’s what’s most important to me.  Just because I happened to meet Twilight Sparkle, and we did some things to help Equestria, it doesn’t change me.

“I’d like to think anypony would have done the same thing,” she finished.  She looked away as she said that last line.

“The book said you are the element of honesty,” I said.  “That didn’t sound honest.”

“It was,” Applejack corrected me.  “I do like to think that anypony would have answered the call like I did.”

“But you don’t believe that,” I said, stating Applejack’s unspoken words.

She nodded slowly.  “It’s frightening, to be honest.  As ponies, our natural instinct is to flee or hide.  As I walked through the Everfree Forest, ignoring everything I was ever taught by Ma and Pa and Granny and Grandpa, I kept thinking about what I was risking.  What would happen to the farm?  Would Big McIntosh be okay?  What about little Apple Bloom?

“In the end, all I thought about was, if something bad had to happen, it should happen to me.”

I remembered what I heard in the hospital, how my father shielded me with his own body.  He might not be in a history book, but he shared Applejack’s willingness to sacrifice for the benefit of others.

I can see why he wanted me to be in Applejack’s care.





“So, it all started with an Apple family reunion.  Ponies from all over Equestria came to town, and just in time, because our family received the great honor of catering the Summer Sun Celebration.  And it was a very special honor indeed, as Princess Celestia herself was coming to town!”

“Biggest event in Ponyville’s history!” Granny Smith interjected.  “And I should know, as I’ve been here for all of them!”

I listened intently as, over dinner, Applejack regaled me with a firsthoof account of the defeat of Nightmare Moon.  The textbook description sure wasn’t this exciting!  It didn’t mention a manticore, or a sea serpent, or the illusions sent by Nightmare Moon.

“And when Twilight Sparkle recognized the magic of friendship, and unsealed the sixth Element of Harmony, she not only saved Equestria, she succeeded at the task Princess Celestia gave her.  She forged close bonds of friendship among us six.”

“You weren’t friends already?” I asked.

“We were.  Well, some more than others,” Applejack said.  “I already had that rivalry going with Rainbow Dash.  Fluttershy, we knew well, because she’s the best pony at helping animals in need.  I was friends with Pinkie Pie, but so was everypony.  And I never had much to do with Rarity.  I may have been friends with them, but at the same level as I’m friends with our neighbor Carrot Top or the mares who sell flowers in the marketplace.  It took Twilight Sparkle and the Elements to make us such special friends.”

“Were you scared?” I asked.

“There was plenty to be scared of, topped off by that legendary creation of nightmare,” Applejack said.  “But really, the scariest part was when it was just me, holding Twilight on that cliff.”

“Why?  What happened?” I wondered.

“I didn’t have the best hold on Twilight Sparkle, and worse, I could feel myself slipping.  Her weight was slowly pulling both of us down, and if we both fell, we might not have made it.  Now, I saw that Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had swooped down to save Rarity, and then they grabbed Pinkie Pie.    They’d be able to grab Twilight Sparkle, but that meant she had to let go.

“Now, I’m known for my honesty, but she was brand new to town, and it’s not like we hit it off perfectly at the start.  So I had one shot to make her believe me, and I had to do it by telling her to drop down the cliff.  Trust me, it’s a lot easier to be honest when you’re saying something like ‘That was a fine party’ or ‘I’m so glad to have met you’.”  Applejack chuckled.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“It’s a good thing she stayed as calm as she did.  If she had been thrashing, then whoa, Nelly....”

I was amazed at Applejack’s casual attitude.  She was talking about something that could have hurt her, even killed her!

I guess, compared to that, taking care of me was a cinch.





After Friday afternoon’s physical therapy session, the doctor gave me a clean bill of health.  Well, mostly clean.  I was still ordered to avoid straining my legs, and I’d have another checkup in a month.  But I was free to walk, free to work, free to go to school.  I could jump, a little.  I no longer needed the steps to get into bed.

Applejack had taken a break from her work to go with me to the hospital.  She embraced me as we heard the good news.  “Want to celebrate?” she asked.

I had been listening over dinner.  I knew the Apples were behind on their harvest.  “Let’s just go home,” I said.

“You sure?  You think your legs are up for it?” Applejack asked, worried.

“I’m fine,” I said immediately.  I was going to say that anyway, but now that I thought about it, I did feel fine.  Even after running on the treadmill and lifting weights with all four legs, I felt good enough to walk.  No longer was I leaving these sessions feeling like I was balanced on four tubes of jelly.

I kept up my pace on the way back.  Applejack, encouraged, trotted faster, and we made it home quickly.  She’d have another couple of hours to buck apples.  As for me, I went back to the farmhouse.  As usual for this time of day, Granny Smith was in the kitchen.  I saw more food being prepared than normal.  Whether I asked for it or not, it looked like a celebration was going to happen.

I sat on the couch in the living room.  I paged through a book, but wasn’t focusing on the words.  I was done with homework, done with physical therapy for the day.  I was acutely aware of being the only pony not working.  So, I went into the kitchen.

“Granny Smith, is there anything I can do to help?”

The family elder turned around, a piping hot pie balanced on the tray in her mouth.  With one rear hoof, she kicked the oven door shut, and with a foreleg, she stirred a pot of soup.  After setting the pie on the windowsill and spitting out the mouth guard, she said “No, I’ve got it handled.”

“Do you think, maybe someday, you could show me your recipes?” I asked.

“Recipes?  Recipes?  I don’t need recipes, they’re all up here in my cookbook,” Granny Smith said, tapping her head with a hoof.  “But I bet we’ve got some family recipes written down somewhere.  Now where would they be?”  As she trailed off, Granny Smith started opening various cupboards.  Each was cluttered with mismatched mugs, plates, pots, and knickknacks.

“There it is!” she announced.  Granny Smith proudly stepped aside, showing me the contents of one cupboard.  It was completely stuffed with papers, some looking quite yellowed.

“That’s all recipes?” I said incredulously.

“Probably not, but there’s quite a few Apple family recipes in there, and some of them are from before we settled Ponyville,” Granny Smith said.  “If you need any cooking advice, then you come to me.”  She leaned in and whispered.  “And I wouldn’t trust all those recipes.  Just between you and me, some of the aunts and cousins just can’t bake right.”

The unspoken feuds among relatives with their favorite recipes made me smile, but it was something else about Granny Smith’s words that caught my attention.  “You were really around for the founding of Ponyville?” I asked.

“Sure was!  Why, I was just a spry filly, with a big smile and a brand new cutie mark, when we went to settle these lands.  Remind me to tell you the story about zap apples before the next harvest.  And speaking of zap apples, there’s zap apple jam, which your great-grandfather sold to ponies from all corners of Equestria!”

“My great-grandfather?” I asked.

“Why, yes, your family has been here almost as long as ours!  It was thanks to Stinkin’ Rich that most ponies heard about Ponyville for the first time.  And now look at it!”

“And you know my family?”

“Of course!  We’ve been business partners for years.  Decades!” Granny Smith said.

“Do you know what happened to the rest of my family?” I said quietly.

Granny Smith gave a quick check to the stove.  Satisfied that nothing was in immediate danger of going wrong, she looked me in the eye and paused, thinking.  “Nope!” she said.

Crestfallen, I turned away.

“Wait!” she called.  I looked back.  “Now, Stinkin’ Rich, that's Stinkin' Rich the second, or little Stinky as we called him, had three of the cutest foals.  Golden Sky, Filthy Rich, and Crystal Crown.  But they all grew up, and the other two moved away ages ago.  Celestia willing, they’re still around, but I haven’t seen them for twenty, thirty years.”

Maybe they weren’t all right.  After all, I was placed in the care of the Apples.

Granny Smith must have noticed me staring off.  She wrapped a bony foreleg around me, a gesture that still felt very comforting.  “I’m glad you care about your extended family.  That’s important,” she said.  “But, I guess not every family is as close as ours.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, Granny Smith,” I said.

“Anytime, dearie,” she replied.

I gazed at the cupboard stuffed with papers.  Whether from an old recipe or a new textbook, I realized there was a lot of history that I would have to discover anew.

> Chapter 7: School
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 7: School





As I stepped out of the farmhouse, I felt my rear hooves drag.  It wasn’t the contents of my saddlebags slowing me, heavy though they were.  The weight of multiple textbooks and many completed assignments wasn’t the problem.  It was the unknown.

I was returning to school.

I was physically ready for school.  I could handle the walk.  I could write by mouth and make it legible.  But I still couldn’t remember.

“So how is this going to work?” I asked Apple Bloom.

My reluctant roommate responded as she walked by my side.  “It’s school.  You go there, and listen as the teacher teaches.”

“I mean with me.  How are ponies going to react to my return?”

“We talked about it last week,” Apple Bloom responded.  “Miss Cheerilee talked about how you can’t remember anything, and how we should treat you like you were a new student.  I don’t know how that’s going to work.  We all were there last year, so we all know you, and remember the accident happening.”

“How bad was I to the other students?” I asked.

“Actually, not that bad,” Apple Bloom said.  “You just didn’t talk much with the other students.  You were... what was that vocabulary word again?  Oh yeah.  Indifferent.”

Maybe my return to school would go better than my first meeting with the Cutie Mark Crusaders.





We arrived at the schoolhouse.  It was a quiet morning, and we appeared to be the first ponies to have arrived.

“We don’t normally have to leave the farm this early, but Miss Cheerilee wanted to talk to you before school,” Apple Bloom said.

I looked around uncertainly.

Apple Bloom pointed a hoof.  “Our classroom is through that door.”  She headed to the swing set to pass the time, and I walked to the classroom.

The mulberry mare with the three flower cutie mark looked familiar; she had tested me when I was in the hospital.  But I didn’t remember what kind of pony she was.  She smiled warmly as I entered.  “Welcome back, Diamond Tiara,” she said.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Did you have any problems with your assignments?  Do you have any questions?”

I pulled out a small stack of papers and passed them to the teacher.  “I didn’t have any problems,” I responded.  “I remembered most of the material in subjects like math and history, and when I didn’t know the answer to a question, I found it in the chapter.”  I sighed.  “I just wish I remembered something other than facts from a book.”

Cheerilee gave a cursory examination to my homework, asking me a few questions about each assignment’s subject matter.  She seemed pleased with my work.

She looked at another paper.  “How are you feeling now?” she asked.

I wasn’t expecting that question.  “Okay,” I responded.  “Well, okay physically.  I’m just, I don’t know... uncertain, I guess.”

Cheerilee rested a hoof on my withers.  “Diamond Tiara, I’ve never taught a student with amnesia like yours.  But I have taught a lot of unsure students.  Some are afraid because it’s the first time they’ve spent the day away from their families.  Some are worried that they won’t be good enough.  And almost every transfer student is uncertain.  ‘Will I like the teacher?  Will I fit in?  Will I make friends?’  These are normal fears.  And remember, no matter what, I’m here to help you.”

The teacher looked at the clock on the wall.  “Well, we still have twenty minutes before class starts.  Why don’t you go out to the playground?” she offered.

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

I had been with Miss Cheerilee for maybe twenty minutes, but that time made all the difference.  Students of all ages now mingled outside the schoolhouse.  Some, like Apple Bloom, were using the playground equipment.  Others played with toys or chased each other in games of tag.  I eventually spotted Sweetie Belle, but still no Scootaloo.  And none of the other students were familiar.

Everypony looked like they had their circle of friends.  I truly was the outsider.

I decided to spend the rest of time before school began exploring the school and its grounds.  If anypony asked, I was trying to see if anything looked familiar to me.  Nopony asked, but I did see a few ponies staring at me.

The warning bell rang.  I joined the tide of foals heading to their respective classes.  Once inside, they headed to their desks.  I stopped and scanned the room.

Cheerilee figured out my problem.  “Your desk is that one in the corner,” she said, pointing to the leftmost desk in the first row.

I set my saddlebags by the desk.  Before I could sit on the bench chair, Cheerilee motioned for me to come forward.  I stood there, feeling the eyes of a dozen ponies on me.  All were unfamiliar, save for the three fillies I baked with a week ago.

“Now, everypony, we have a special student returning to class today.  This is Diamond Tiara.  She has largely recovered from her injuries, but she’s still trying to recover her memories.  So I would like all of you to introduce yourselves as if she were a new student to our school.  Can you all do that?”  Cheerilee smiled, looking expectantly at the class.

Going around the room, each pony introduced himself or herself.  None of the names were familiar to me.

“Now, let’s all give a warm welcome to Diamond Tiara,” Cheerilee told the class.  The applause was somewhat restrained, the hooffalls on the floor not very loud.  I smiled sheepishly to the class, and trotted to my desk.

“Class, please pull out your history textbooks.  We’ll start where we left off last Friday, with the alliance of the five great unicorn houses in the fifth century before unification.”  I focused on the textbook, and I was happy to lose myself in Cheerilee’s lecture.





Eventually, lunch arrived, and I would have to face the other ponies.  I placed my books in my saddlebags at a deliberately slow pace, and then took my lunch bag in my mouth.  I walked outside, seeing plenty of ponies eating, and a few who skipped ahead to running around.  Apple Bloom waved me over to a picnic table, where Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were also seated.

That crisis averted, or at least delayed, I pulled out my lunch.  It was the same lunch as Apple Bloom, a daisy sandwich, celery sticks, an apple, and apple juice.  Hers was bigger, though, with a second sandwich and a plumper apple.

“What do ponies do at lunch?” I asked.

“Eat,” said Scootaloo, mumbling around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Well, duh,” Apple Bloom said.  “I think she means afterwards.”

“Lunch is the best time of day, since you can do anything!” Sweetie Belle replied enthusiastically.  “Play games, plan our next crusade, or just talk!”

“What is the next crusade?” I asked.  The three fillies suddenly looked less enthusiastic.  “Any ideas?” I continued.

“Nothing,” they all replied.

“Besides, I don’t have time for crusading this weekend,” Apple Bloom said.  “It’s cider season.”

I looked at Apple Bloom.  “I’ve heard you talking about it, but what’s involved with cider season?” I asked.

“It’s only the second most important week on the farm!  Everypony lines up to buy our delicious cider.  So we have to work constantly to get apples harvested, cider pressed, mugs washed, and everything!”  Talking about cider season really cheered her up.

“Rarity and I will be there!” Sweetie Belle announced.

“And I’m going to practice flying techniques with Rainbow Dash while we’re waiting!” Scootaloo added.

“I’m just going to be working, pretty much every hour I’m not in school,” Apple Bloom said.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offered.

“I’m sure there is, but we better talk to Applejack first,” Apple Bloom replied.

I finished the last sip of juice and tossed my apple core into the trash bin.  The other Crusaders were also finished with lunch.  “Now what?” I wondered.

“Well, since there’s not much to talk about...” Sweetie Belle said, trailing off.  She gave me a quick tap on the shoulder, and then jumped away from the table.  Around me, the others were getting up.

“That means you’re it,” Apple Bloom said, immediately before dashing away.

Tag.  I knew that game.  Time to put my legs to the test.





I was relieved when lunch ended, and I could sit back at my desk.  I survived the twenty minutes of running around, but I felt very tired.  I used a hoof to push away a lock of violet mane, plastered to my forehead with sweat, and looked at my friends.  Apple Bloom didn’t look fazed by all that running.  She was tough.  Scootaloo was nimble, but she lost some of her speed by the time we finished.  Sweetie Belle looked as bad as me; she had been easiest to tag.

But it was all worth it as I considered two of the other foals from the class.  They had joined in our game before lunch was over.

Cheerilee was at the chalkboard, writing a number of fractions for the afternoon’s math lesson.  “We’re going to practice reducing fractions today.  Let’s start with the first example.  Can anypony reduce the fraction?”

The example was 16 over 72, not very hard.  I raised a hoof, as did most of the class.

“Yes, Truffle Shuffle?” Cheerilee said, calling on the plump colt seated behind me.

“Divide the numerator and denominator by ei....” The colt’s response was interrupted as the number was replaced by an inadvertent belch.”

I giggled.  We all giggled.  We couldn’t help it.

“Now, class, there’s nothing funny about that.  It’s perfectly natural,” she chided us.  Still, it looked like she had to fight the urge to laugh.

I smiled and looked to my right.  My gaze rested on an unoccupied desk up front.

“Truffle Shuffle is right, divide by eight, and what do you get, class?”

“Two over nine!” we all responded.

As Cheerilee went over the next problem, I instead considered that empty desk.  Before lunch, the teacher had scolded Scootaloo for daydreaming.  The class tittered, and I had glanced in the same direction.  What did that mean?





The school bell sounded, signaling the end of the school day.  Everypony returned books and papers to their saddlebags and prepared to depart.

“Ready to go home?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Sure, but... can you wait for me?  I have something to ask the teacher,” I said.

“Okay,” replied Apple Bloom.

I waited for the rest of my classmates to leave.  Cheerilee seemed aware of what was going on, as she waited until we were alone before asking “Is there something you want to talk about?”

I nodded.  “Twice today, I found myself looking at an empty desk.  This one,” I said, placing my hoof on the desk two to my right.

“Do you know why?” Cheerilee asked.  “Did you remember something?”

“Not a memory, just... I don’t know, a feeling, an impression,” I said.  “When you caught Scootaloo this morning not paying attention, it just felt like the right thing to do, looking there, you know?”

“I don’t know if that’s a memory or not, but I think I know why you looked to that desk.  Silver Spoon, your best friend before the accident, used to sit there,” Cheerilee explained.

I gasped.  “What happened to her?”

“Nothing bad, Diamond Tiara,” she replied.  “She transferred to another school.”

I slumped.  I had a best friend?  Why haven’t I seen her?  Did she abandon me?

Again, Cheerilee seemed to understand what I was thinking.  “Diamond Tiara, your friend is attending a boarding school in Canterlot.  I’m sure she wants to see you, but she won’t be coming back to Ponyville until the holidays.”

I nodded slowly.

“I’m glad to see you had fun at lunch,” Cheerilee said.  “I hope you’ll have another good day at school tomorrow.”

I walked off, thinking about what I had learned.  I didn’t even notice I had walked outside.  Apple Bloom saw something was distracting me.  “What’s got you down?” she asked.

“I used to have a best friend,” I said.

“You still do,” Apple Bloom replied.  “And you can have as many friends as you want.  I promise not to be jealous!”  She adjusted her saddlebags.  “Now let’s get going.  I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“What’s going on?” I wondered.

“I’m helping harvest the apples for cider season,” she replied.

I felt twinges in my hind legs.  “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

Apple Bloom looked away thoughtfully.  “Actually, I think you could help.  I’ll check with Applejack first, but there’s some work where there won’t be any applebucking going on.”





After checking with Applejack, we had her approval, though for what, I still didn’t know.  I watched as Apple Bloom picked up a small cart, filled with wooden buckets, from the barn.  She hitched herself to the cart and pulled it into the south orchard.  The fragrance of the plump, ripe apples filled my nostrils.  A slight breeze gently rustled the leaves, the only sound save for the creaking of the cart and the occasional sharp crack from applebucking somewhere else in the orchard.

We bypassed a number of trees, Apple Bloom looking into each of their branches.  “What are you looking for?” I asked.  “Some other kind of apple?”

“No, something else,” she replied.  After assessing a few more trees, she found one that caught her attention.  After stepping out of the harness, she placed one hoof on the bark, running it over the rough surface.  Finding a place that met her approval, she turned, facing away from the tree.

Apple Bloom was going to buck the tree?  I thought she said she wasn’t going to.  In any case, she forgot something.  “What about the buckets?” I pointed out.

“Don’t need them for this,” she said tersely.  She lifted her hind legs and delivered a swift kick to the tree.  The apples swayed, but didn’t fall.  Instead, a light blue pegasus fell out of the foliage.  She rubbed her head through her rainbow-colored mane as she got to her hooves.  “Sheesh, you could have just yelled, Apple Bloom,” she said.

“Sorry, Rainbow Dash, but Applejack says that doesn’t work,” Apple Bloom said.

The pegasus rubbed sleep from her eyes with her fetlocks.  “All right.  I’m ready.  You ready?” she said.

“Let’s get the buckets placed first,” Apple Bloom replied.  I helped her take the buckets out of the cart, placing them under the boughs of the apple tree.

“Done,” Apple Bloom said.  With that, Rainbow Dash flew up at an unbelievable speed, leaving a rainbow-colored trail in her wake.  It was far easier to follow it than her.  The trail made a tight U-turn, and the pegasus was flying back down.  I instinctively ducked.

The branches rattled and shook as if struck by a gale force wind.  That may very well be what happened.  I felt three apples drop on my body, along with a fair number of leaves.

Once the noise passed, I chanced a look around.  Rainbow Dash hovered in the air, shaking leaves out of her mane and wings.  All the apples had been blown to the ground, along with about half the leaves.

“Is that bad?  All the leaves?” I asked.

“No.  The leaves need to come off soon anyway,” Apple Bloom explained.  “Do you remember the Running of the Leaves?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, that’s this big race where we knock the leaves off the trees in Whitetail Wood.  But any tree needs to have its leaves fall, and while it doesn’t have to be right now, it’s best done before November.”

That was familiar.  The concept of working together, bringing about the change of seasons.  But it was just a fact of life, not something I remembered experiencing.

“Anyway, let’s pick up these apples,” Apple Bloom said.  She picked up apples by the stem using her mouth, and simultaneously used her hooves, lightly kicking apples on the ground into the buckets.

My own attempts at using my hooves were less successful.  I probably got less than a quarter of the apples into the buckets.  I decided to just use my mouth.  Those, I didn’t miss.

We soon finished, dumping the apples into the cart, and walked to the next tree.  I gazed down the row of trees, so many that I couldn’t see the edge of the farm.  Shrugging, I placed the buckets, and then stood back.  With a rush of wind, more leaves and apples fell.

Once the cart was full, Apple Bloom pulled it back to the barn.  Rainbow Dash took the opportunity to tend to her wings, straightening the feathers and getting leaves and bits of bark out from between them.

“Rainbow Dash?”  I asked.

She lifted her head.  “Yeah?”

“You’re one of the Elements of Harmony, right?” I asked.

“Yep.  Element of loyalty!” she said proudly, flaring her wings dramatically.

“And what brings you here today?” I asked.

“Applejack asked for help,” she replied.  She must have seen my confused expression, so she explained further.  “She was behind on harvesting the apples for cider season, and if there’s one thing I like, it’s cider.  So I said, what the heck, I can get these apples off the trees.  I’m no earth pony, but I’m, like, naturally good at everything.”

“You did get the apples out of the trees,” I observed.

“So here I am, helping Applejack after finishing my own work,” Rainbow Dash said.

“Isn’t that a lot to ask?”  I didn’t know exactly what the pegasus did for a living, but it sounded like taking an entire extra job.

“I’m not doing it for free; I’m getting an entire barrel of cider.”  Rainbow Dash paused, licking her lips.  “But I’m mostly doing this because Applejack needs the help, and I’m glad she asked this time.”

Rainbow Dash leaned in close to me and spoke quietly.  “Listen, kid, if Applejack ever gives you a hard time, ask her about the time she tried to handle applebuck season all by herself.  That’ll get you out of trouble.”  That sounds like an interesting story.  I wonder if Apple Bloom knows it?

Speaking of the filly, I saw her return, with the now-empty cart.  We headed to the next tree.

Such was my afternoon.  We worked, repeating the collecting of apples, until the sun set.  Returning to the farmhouse, I already felt tightness in the muscles of my neck.  I’d probably be sore in the morning.  The Apples, who had all worked a lot harder than me, didn’t appear bothered by their labors.  I guess that makes sense; they’re used to it.

I sat down to dinner.  It wasn’t until I smelled the hearty stew that I realized how famished I was.  I hadn’t eaten anything in seven hours.  After two bowls of stew, I came to appreciate why everypony here ate so much.

Even though everypony had worked hard all day, we still had to clean the kitchen.  Afterwards, Applejack set me and Apple Bloom down, and we went over the day in school.  We talked about the day’s lessons, and went over the homework assignments.  Applejack made sure we had what we needed to do the work, and made sure we were actually doing it, before heading off to deal with her own responsibilities.

Once we were alone, Apple Bloom set down her pencil.  “Thanks, Diamond Tiara,” she said.

“For what?” I asked.

“For helping today.”

“Isn’t that what anypony would do?” I wondered.

“Not everypony,” Apple Bloom said.  “Last year, your father brought you over to help with the zap apple harvest.  You threw a mighty fit before your father forced you to help.  And that wasn’t even hard work!”

Once again, I faced my past.  Why didn’t I want to help?  Was there a reason?  Something other than being a bad pony?

“I don’t remember why I acted like that, Apple Bloom, but I’ll help you now.  Just like Braeburn or Rainbow Dash.”  The Apples needed the help, and it was all my fault.

Homework had proven to be very distracting.  It wasn’t until I was getting ready for bed that I had time to think about the day.  Would tomorrow bring back a lost memory?  Could I remember more about this Silver Spoon?  Would I be able to reach the other students in class?

I crawled into bed, ready to ponder my day at school.  But my tired body soon won out over my active mind, and before I knew it, the cock’s crow introduced the new dawn.

> Chapter 8: Cider
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein. 

Chapter 8: Cider





At the same time as my return to school, I found myself quickly integrated into my family’s busy work schedule.  Come Tuesday afternoon, I again headed out to the orchard, collecting the apples that Rainbow Dash shook from the trees.  Each day ended with a late dinner, then homework, then a deep sleep.

The work was getting to us all.  Everypony was tired.  Conversations were shorter.  The pegasus who appeared to be relaxing in the boughs of an apple tree on Monday appeared to be legitimately asleep on Wednesday.  But seeing the barn and cellar fill with harvested apples made me feel our work was worth it.

Thursday was the last day of school for the week.  It was a short week, with Friday being a holiday honoring the wise earth pony Smart Cookie.  More importantly for us, Friday was the traditional start of cider season.

Since harvesting apples seemed so important, I expected I’d continue this week’s work.  But instead, Apple Bloom suggested otherwise.  “Granny Smith wants you inside,” she said.

I headed into the farmhouse by myself.  I found the elderly mare in the kitchen.  “Good afternoon, Granny Smith,” I greeted her.

“Well, hello there, Diamond Tiara!” she replied.  “Ready to get cooking?”

“What?” I uttered, confused.

“You said you wanted to learn the family recipes, right?” she said.

“I guess,” I muttered.  Truth be told, I had a hard time knowing what I wanted.  That’s the consequence of losing one’s memory.

“Well then, I’m going to show you how we make our cider!” she said enthusiastically.

I looked around the empty kitchen.  “Here?” I wondered.

“No, the cider’s made outside.  We have a machine for that,” she explained.  “But there’s more to cider than apples.  Why don’t you fetch the cider spices from the basement?”

I nodded, and walked down the stairs.  The cellar was dimly lit, the afternoon sun casting beams of light through the small windows near the ceiling.  The chamber, empty not more than two weeks ago, was now half filled with apples.

Once downstairs, I looked for the spices.   I realized I didn’t ask what I was looking for.  The shelves actually held a number of spices, but there were three spices overrepresented here.  Those were probably what I was looking for.  I took the bags in my mouth and returned to the kitchen.

“Cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice!” Granny Smith said.  “You have a good nose, Diamond Tiara.”

“Not really,” I admitted.  “All the other spices, they looked like smaller amounts, like for family use.  These were the only three where you had enough for large-scale use,” I commented.

“Well then, you have a good eye, and a good brain!  That’s also important!” Granny Smith replied.

“Can you tell me what these are all for?” I asked.

“Well, dearie, we want your first sip of Apple family cider to remind you of the most delicious slice of apple pie you’ve ever eaten!  So we mix the juices of our apples with these spices,” she explained.  That did sound tasty.

“The important thing is getting the right balance of spices,” Granny Smith continued.  “Four to two to one, and then, for an additional burst of flavor, we let these cheesecloth pouches filled with cinnamon sticks float in the cider!”

“So that’s what we’re doing tonight?” I asked.

“You got it, Diamond Tiara,” she replied.

Once the spices were all laid out, Granny Smith pulled a small grater out of a drawer.  She demonstrated how to make the bundle of cinnamon, basically showing how many sticks of cinnamon to use, and how to tie the bag.

I assembled the bags, having a little trouble manipulating the string.  I still had problems gripping with my pasterns, and the result was a series of ties that wouldn’t win any prizes for beauty.  But they will get the job done.  Granny Smith, despite her age, had no problem grating the spices, holding even the small allspice berries between her hoof and the grater.

About halfway through the work, I opened one of the jars.  I noticed the jar looked different, being a slightly different shape; the jar was also rather dusty.  I pulled out a cinnamon stick and looked at it carefully.  It looked off, maybe dried out.  “Is this still good?” I asked Granny Smith.

“Eh?  Oh, let me see that,” she replied, taking the cinnamon stick.  She held it close to her eye, inspecting it.  She gave it a sniff, then ran the grater over it, checking the aroma again.  She set it down.  “That’s not good enough for Apple family cider.”

Granny Smith checked the rest of the spices, confirming that two other jars held bad cinnamon sticks.  She put the jars into a cupboard.  “Now, there’s no sense in letting these go to waste.  It’s still good to eat, but only the freshest apples and spices go into our cider,” she explained.  She raised a hoof to her chin.  “Now that’s a right nasty pickle.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It means I’ll need to head to the market tomorrow, and we all have a full schedule,” she replied.  “Let’s talk after dinner.”

After preparing the spices for cider production, I helped Granny Smith prepare dinner, under her careful scrutiny.  Once I listened to her directions carefully, I was able to follow them.  The stir-fried vegetables looked a little overcooked, but once the food was on the table, everypony ate it without complaint.

We had scarcely finished dinner when Granny Smith jumped up, surprisingly spryly, and gave us this determined look.  “To the living room, all of you!” she ordered.  We all moved without question.  
To the normal furnishings of the living room, a slate chalkboard had been added, being placed next to the window.  It was one of those movable ones that could be reversed; the school had plenty of those.  Was it borrowed?  In any case, it was filled with a grid, columns divided into two hour blocks, and rows for each of us.

Granny Smith soon followed us, an upturned saucepan resting on her head like a makeshift helmet.  She picked up a piece of chalk and smacked it against the chalkboard.  I instinctively sat up straight.  “Now listen up, troops,” she ordered, getting everypony’s attention.  “Tomorrow, we’re going to sell the best cider anypony has ever tasted.  We’re going to work hard.  We’re going to make as many ponies happy as possible.  And we’re going to do the Apple family name proud.”

“Yes, Granny Smith,” her three grandchildren said.  Caught unaware, I nodded.

“So here is the schedule for tomorrow.  We start selling at 8:00 AM.  Let’s start with the first block, dawn until opening,” Granny Smith said.  “Big McIntosh, you’re on the cider press.”

“Eeyup,” he replied.

“Applejack, you harvest as many apples as you can from the far south field.”

“Will do,” she said, nodding.

“Apple Bloom, you’re on stand setup.”

“I’m going to put up that awning I’ve been working on!” Apple Bloom said happily.

“I’m on apple inspection,” Granny Smith continued.  “And Diamond Tiara, you help with setup.  Get those mugs out there so thirsty ponies can drink our cider!”

“Okay,” I replied uncertainly.

“Don’t worry, I can help you,” Apple Bloom said reassuringly.

Granny Smith then continued with the tasks during the day.  Applejack and Big McIntosh split the heavy work, including applebucking, running the cider press, and moving barrels of cider.  Apple Bloom was happy to know she was working the stand, albeit with frequent visits from Applejack.  That made sense; Applejack did seem to be the most public face for Sweet Apple Acres.  Granny Smith handled inspection, coordination, and distributing food and water to everypony else.

That left me, doing the job I was probably best suited for.  I would spend the day on mug duty, taking away dirty mugs, washing them, and then returning them to the stand.

Granny Smith smacked the chalkboard again, pointing the chalk at the midday block.  “Now listen up.  Tomorrow, we have a change in plans.  I need to head to the market, or we’re not going to have enough cinnamon to make our cider on Sunday.”  The elderly mare took the eraser and cleared the block with her name, before writing “Market” with the chalk.  “That means somepony else will need to make lunch.”  And with that, she wrote “Lunch” in the block with my name.

I didn’t know what to say.  What if I made a terrible lunch?

Granny Smith rested a foreleg on my withers.  She had taken off the pot, and dropped the drill sergeant demeanor, returning to the kindly mare I knew.  “Now don’t you fret, young one.  Just go to that cupboard I showed you, and find a recipe you’d like to make. I promise, we’ll be happy with whatever you make,” she said warmly.

“Eeyup,” Big McIntosh said.  “After running the cider press, you could put the slop from the pig’s trough in front of me, and I’d be happy.”

I chuckled.  I certainly hope my lunch would be better than pig slop!





In helping with the setup, I saw just how big cider season was.  It was still an hour before we opened, and there were hundreds of ponies in line.  Incredibly, they all seemed happy to be waiting!

I set down a bucket of mugs by the booth and took the time to admire Apple Bloom’s work.  The colorful awning, decorated with apples, would provide needed shade from Celestia’s sun.  “Looking good,” I said.

“Thanks,” Apple Bloom replied.

Applejack arrived, bringing barrels of cider.  She arranged them carefully, making sure the barrels wouldn’t tip or roll away.

Finally, after more of this work, we all, save for Big McIntosh, gathered by the stand.  Smiling, Applejack took a tap and kicked it into one of the waiting barrels.  “I declare cider season officially open!” she announced.  Cheers erupted from the crowd.

I had enough time to watch the first pony in line, Pinkie Pie, consume enough mugs of cider to fill one bucket completely.  I took it back, and began the laborious process of washing the mugs.

I fell into a routine, alternating between moving mugs and cleaning them.  At some point, a growl in my stomach reminded me that I needed to prepare lunch.  I took a stepladder out of the closet, and reached into the cupboard by the sink.  It was stuffed with books and papers.  I placed my hoof on something that looked like a cookbook and pulled.  I got the book, but also caused a small avalanche.  Papers, folios, and other books fell on my head.

I grunted, and picked up the papers, stacking them together.  As I did, I noticed something on one of the papers.

My name.

It was some legal document.  I wanted to see what was in it, but I set it aside.  Cider season was too important to my family for me to shirk my duties.

The book did turn out to be a cookbook.  I leafed through its hoofwritten pages, looking for something that wouldn’t take a long time.  The recipe called Crustless Quiche caught my attention.  The ingredients looked basic, and despite the fancy name, it was just a baked egg dish.  Importantly, it could be put in the oven, allowing me to focus on the dishes.

It sounded more like breakfast, but if what Big McIntosh said was correct, nopony would mind.

I chopped vegetables and gathered the other ingredients in between washing buckets of mugs.  Once the quiche was in the oven, I put the cookbook and all the other papers away, the mysterious paper out of sight.  It still weighed on my mind as I assembled a salad and continued my washing.

Around noon, Applejack returned to the farmhouse, helping me deliver lunch.  She balanced the food on her back while I carried dishes and utensils with my umpteenth bucket of clean mugs.  We served Big McIntosh first.  The sturdy stallion rested by the cider press, his mane matted to his forehead by sweat, the strong aroma of his exertion surrounding him.  He nodded as he accepted hearty portions of the lunch I made.

We brought the rest to the stand, and Applejack, Apple Bloom, and I ate together.  The others didn’t stop working, with Apple Bloom serving cider in between bites of quiche, and Applejack tapping fresh barrels of cider.  Just as I finished my own meal, there was another bucket of dirty mugs to wash.





“Good job, everypony,” Applejack said, gathering us in a group hug.  The stand was closed, the crowd dispersed.  There were several hours of sunlight remaining, and dozens of thirsty ponies had returned to town, but we had reached the day’s limit of cider.

While the selling was over, our work continued.  Apple Bloom and I headed back to the orchard, spending the remaining daylight collecting more apples felled by Rainbow Dash.  I heard sharp cracks, indicating Big McIntosh harvesting apples in the normal way, and the faint whirr of the cider press in action told me what Applejack was doing until evening.

Granny Smith had a huge meal ready come sundown.  I don’t remember what we ate, but I remember eating a lot of it.  From there, there wasn’t much of a desire to do anything else.  We were tired, and Day Two would be here soon.  We all prepared for bed.

As I rested in bed, I felt physically exhausted.  I can only imagine how a pony who did harder work, like Big McIntosh, was faring.  Still, my mind was not letting me find rest.  The mysterious package in the cupboard was calling to me.

I stared at the ceiling and listened attentively.  Not a sound was heard, save for Apple Bloom’s slow breathing.  I slowly lifted the covers and crawled out of bed.  I paused.  Apple Bloom’s breathing remained slow and steady.  I tiphoofed out of the room and down the stairs.

I lit a candle and carried it into the kitchen, setting it on the counter by the cupboard.  Climbing the stepladder, I searched until I found the mysterious package.  I then carried it and the candle to the table, its light and the light of Luna’s moon allowing me to read.

The first document I pulled out was the one I had first noticed, a legal document.  The wording was unnecessarily complicated, but it was easy enough for me to follow.  It named Applejack Apple my guardian, and Applejack and McIntosh Apple trustees for the assets left to me from my father’s estate.

Second, I found a copy of my father’s will.  I read through its many bequests.  Surprisingly, there were no mentions of any family members.  Among the bequests were generous amounts to a number of servants, and even larger amounts to the city of Ponyville and a number of charities.  Finally, it directed the remainder of the estate and ownership of Barnyard Bargains, Inc. to me, to be held in trust until I reached the age of majority.

Finally, I found a number of financial statements.  Stock certificates, bonds, bank accounts.  It was a lot to figure out, but fortunately, there was a consolidated statement, summarizing the values of all these investments.  My jaw dropped.

I had never seen a number that large before.





Day Two went much like Day One.  Sweetie Belle was enjoying a cup of cider during one of my trips to the stand that afternoon, in the company of an older unicorn with a similar coat color and an air of elegance.  She introduced the mare as her sister, Rarity.  I don’t remember what we talked about, exactly; whatever polite conversation we had was lost as I struggled to remember her.  She was a clothier, and I had several nice dresses.  Were they her designs?  Did I ever visit her shop?  No, all I could remember was her name in my history book, the name of another one of the Elements of Harmony.

The second evening was again filled with work.  Apple Bloom mentioned we’d be getting the last of the cider apples by evening.  I guess that puts a hard cap on the amount of cider we can sell.  The organization of  cider season, from the weeks leading up to it to the final days, were becoming clearer to me.  Three days, all selling out at around the same time, utilizing the maximum amount of the harvest, and with the cider as fresh as possible.  I can see why it’s so popular.

Day Three was still busy, but there was a feeling of work winding up, of a conclusion to one season’s work.  I felt like everypony was doing only two things at once, instead of three.  I saw Rainbow Dash flying overhead every time I went out to the stand, and occasionally spotted Scootaloo, trying her hardest to stay in the air.  The two pegasi decided to stick around after getting their cider, and I watched them as I shared a lunch with Apple Bloom.

“You can do it, Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom called, the pegasus filly trying to gain altitude.

“Feel the air around you, squirt!” Rainbow Dash instructed.  “Tap into your magic!”

Scootaloo struggled, not finding success.  When she fell to the ground, Rainbow Dash wrapped her comfortingly in a wing.  “You’ll get there,” she said.

Rainbow Dash smiled, but it looked forced.  The normally energetic mare was moving slower than normal.  Dark bags were under her eyes.  But there she was, doing all she could to improve Scootaloo’s spirits.

It was late afternoon when we drained the final barrel of cider.  Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo were still practicing, sticking around even as the rest of the crowd headed home.  When I noticed Big McIntosh approaching with another barrel balanced on his back, I remembered that Rainbow Dash had additional motivation for staying around.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Rainbow Dash said, practically drooling.

“It’s the least we could do to thank you for all your help,” Applejack replied.

“Well, I’m going to take this baby home, and then I’ve got to kick off the big storm,” Rainbow Dash said.  “The rain will start around an hour before sunset.  Will that give you enough time for, uh, that?”

Applejack nodded.  The Apples seemed to understand what “that” was, but I was confused.

Big McIntosh helped balance the barrel on Rainbow Dash’s back, and the pegasus departed.  Scootaloo waved to us and trailed after her mentor.

“Come along, Diamond Tiara,” Applejack said.  “There’s one thing left to do in cider season, something we do as a family.”

The entire Apple family met outside the barn.  Big McIntosh hefted one final barrel of cider, and Granny Smith carried a number of mugs.  Instead of heading inside, we walked into the north orchard.

We climbed a small rise and stopped in the shade of a mighty apple tree.  It took me a while to notice something under the tree, three gravestones.

Without speaking, Applejack tapped the barrel, and solemnly placed the first three mugs on the grave sites.  She then continued by filling mugs for each of us.

Applejack doffed her hat and spoke quietly.  “Cider season’s over for another year.  It was tough, but we pulled together, and sold more cider than ever before, save for last year.  But we’re not going to make that mistake again, let me tell you.”

I’m not sure what Applejack meant, but the uh-huhs and eeyups from the other Apples told me they remembered.

“Grandpa, your recipe is as good as ever.  It was great seeing so many happy ponies enjoying your special blend, but it’s just not the same without you. Ma, Pa, Grandpa, I’d give it all up just to drink cider with you again.

“We have a new family member this year.  This is Diamond Tiara.  I wish you could see her.  She’s done a lot to help us this cider season, even though she’s still recovering from something nopony should have to go through.  I... I’ve talked to you about her before.  I never had anything good to say.  Pa, you always taught me that everypony deserves a second chance.  I didn’t listen to you.  I’m sorry.”

Applejack embraced me.  “I’m sorry, Diamond Tiara.”

I didn’t know what to say.  I just returned the hug, squeezing Applejack with all my might.

Afterwards, Applejack picked up her mug of cider.  The others followed, so I also picked up my mug.  “Here’s to the end of another cider season,” she announced.

We all drank.  As the sweet and subtly spiced liquid crossed my tongue, I suddenly realized that, this whole week, I never tried the cider.  We didn’t serve it with our meals.  There wasn’t a jug of cider in the icebox.  So this was my first taste of Apple family cider.

Applejack’s speech had set a somber mood, but the first taste of the cider brightened my spirits.  This... this was delicious!  And to think that I had some part, small as it was, in creating it.

With my second sip, I experienced a sensation.  It wasn’t a memory, and it wasn’t one of those impressions I occasionally got.  It was... regret?  I tried to reach into my buried memories, but nothing surfaced.

We stayed under the apple tree, drinking cider.  The others spoke a few words to their departed relatives in between mugs, all sharing the same feelings of love for the farm and longing for the presence of their departed relatives, but for the most part it was a time for quiet contemplation.  Applejack kept our mugs full, and we drank until the only cider remaining was in the three mugs set aside for the ponies we all wished would return.

By this time, it had grown noticeably darker.  Various pegasi were positioning dark clouds across the sky above Ponyville.  Big McIntosh nodded sagely.  “We best get inside,” he said.

We headed home, exhausted physically and mentally.  But to our credit, we went right back to work.  There was dinner to make, and a farmhouse to clean, chores that had been set aside due to the urgency of cider season.

By the time dinner was on the table, the thunderstorm outside was in full swing.  The wind howled furiously, driving the rain in sheets against the window.  “Is this bad?” I asked.

“Sometimes the town needs a big storm,” Big McIntosh said.

“And there’s been a big one after every cider season for some years now,” Granny Smith added.

“Don’t worry about it, sugarcube,” Applejack said.  “Rainbow Dash probably scheduled a week’s worth of rain for now so it wouldn’t muck up the ground during our harvest.  I trust her.  She’s a good weather manager.”

I still felt nervous.





Our bedroom was pitch black.  The clouds blocked all light from Luna’s moon.  The rain continued unabated.

“Hey, Apple Bloom?”

“Yeah?” she replied sleepily.

“Did I ever have your family’s cider before... you know?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said.

“Oh,” I replied.  “I must have been the only pony not to drink your cider.”

“I doubt it,” Apple Bloom said.  “Crazy as it sounds, there are some ponies who just don’t like apples.  As for you, I don’t think your father ever had time to wait in line, and you, well, you didn’t want to have anything to do with my family.”

“All right then,” I said.  “Good night, Apple Bloom.”

“Good night, Diamond Tiara.”

Did I secretly regret not drinking Apple family cider before the accident?  I don’t know.  But as sure as it was raining outside, I would regret it if I ever passed on it in the future.

> Chapter 9: Running
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 9: Running





I awoke to the morning sun.  All traces of the previous night’s thunderstorm had passed.  I could hear birds chirping outside.  But I didn’t hear anything else.

I looked around the room.  Apple Bloom was already gone.  I didn’t hear the normal activity downstairs, either.

I checked the mirror.  My mane was a mess, and I really needed a shower.  But something felt wrong.  I headed downstairs.  Just as I suspected, nopony was there.

I looked outside for a sign of my family.  I didn’t see them, but the trail of hoofprints in the muddy ground was easy to spot.  It looked like multiple sets of hoofprints; possibly everypony had headed out the back door.

Eventually, the tracks split off, but I spotted somepony by the barn.  A large section of its roof was missing.  Over by the barn door, a pegasus I didn’t know, with a coat of a lighter yellow color than Apple Bloom’s, was talking to the cows and pigs, who looked shaken but unharmed.  Applejack and Apple Bloom were over by the damaged section of the barn.  Next to them, I saw Rainbow Dash.  She was leaning forward, forelegs nearly parallel to the ground, her head bowed so low that she was getting mud in the orange part of her mane.

I crept closer, trying to hear what was going on.

“I’m sorry.  I screwed up.  I’m sorry,” Rainbow Dash said, lowering her head again.  Then she repeated that.  Judging by Applejack’s expression, she had said that phrase many more times.

“Rainbow Dash, get up!” Applejack yelled.  “You’re a good mare.  You’re a good weather pony.  Mistakes happen.  I’m not blaming you!”

Eventually, Applejack took matters into her own hooves, lifting her up and giving her a comforting hug.  “I don’t want to hear another negative word out of you,” she said quietly.

Big McIntosh came out of the barn, a tall ladder and a rolled-up canvas tarp on his back.  Applejack turned to face him, and noticed me standing there.  “Morning, Diamond Tiara,” she said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Just a little bad weather last night.  It’s nopony’s fault,” Applejack said, looking pointedly at Rainbow Dash.  “We’ll deal with it,” she said to me.

“But I...” Rainbow Dash started.

“But nothing,” Applejack interrupted.  “If you want to help, the best thing you could do is help Big McIntosh nail up that tarp.”  Rainbow Dash nodded.

“Now, as for you two, you’ve got school,” Applejack told us.  “Now get going!”





“What happened last night?” I asked over breakfast.

“The storm turned worse than expected,” Applejack said.  “Rainbow Dash is blaming herself.  Something about not doing another check of the weather over the Everfree, and something about a feedback loop that made the storm clouds about half again as strong as they were supposed to be.”

“Is that because she spent so much time over here the last week?” I asked.

“I suppose that could be it,” Applejack answered.  “In that case, she really shouldn’t feel bad.  I’m the one that asked her to help.”

“How bad is it?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Well, you saw the barn.  The farmhouse is okay, as is the shed.  We lost a lot of branches and a few trees.”

“Oh,” Apple Bloom muttered.

“Don’t you two worry.  We’ll manage.  We’ll turn the fallen trees into planks, and then repair that old barn.  I’m sure it will pass Keen Eye’s next inspection.”

I picked at the oatmeal in front of me, the apples in it suddenly tasting bitter.  Rainbow Dash messed up because she was tired.  She was tired because she was working here.  She was working here because Applejack was behind on her own work.  And Applejack was behind because....

This is all my fault.





I felt down all day.  My school participation was minimal, my play at recess halfhearted.  I must have said that nothing’s wrong a dozen times that day.

When I got home, I told Apple Bloom that I wanted to get started on my homework right away.  She nodded, heading outside.  I, on the other hand, headed to our room, burying my face in my pillow, staring into the fabric.

I must have zoned out, as I didn’t notice anypony walk into the room before I felt a sturdy hoof on my withers.  I looked up to see Applejack.  “Something wrong, sugarcube?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I lied.

Applejack, of course, would have none of that.  “I know something’s wrong,” she said, taking a seat on the bed next to me.  “And I’m not leaving until you tell me about it.”

“It’s the storm, and the damages.  If it wasn’t for me, it never would have happened.”

Applejack facehoofed.  “Not you, too,” she muttered.

That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.

“Look, sugarcube.  You can’t beat yourself up over what ifs.  Did you ever think that, maybe, me taking you to the hospital saved me from a timber wolf attack?” Applejack asked.

I shook my head.

“A million different things could have happened,” Applejack said.  “Some strange magic out of the Everfree.  A changeling invasion.  Another crash by our mailmare.  We Apples don’t worry about the blame.  We work together, fix what’s wrong, and move on.”

This isn’t a what if.  It’s what actually happened.

“You could take some money for the repairs and replanting out of the trust fund my father left me.  I’d feel better if you did that,” I offered.

Applejack paused.  “That’s not ours to take,” she said.  “We can handle it as a family.”  I was seeing signs of that stubbornness that led her to try to handle a harvest by herself.

“But we are family,” I said.  “This isn’t charity.  It’s family.”

“We are family,” Applejack replied, agreeing with me on this point.  “I’ll love you and protect you just like my sister, but that can’t change the fact that you’re the daughter of Filthy Rich.  You can do whatever you want in life, but your special talent will probably have you running your father’s business one day.  And I refuse to do anything that will hurt your future, and that includes taking from your nest egg.”

There’s that stubbornness again.  She wasn’t going to accept my help.

“Did someone talk to you?” Applejack asked.

“No.  I found some papers in that crowded cupboard while looking for recipes,” I said truthfully.  “I think I’d like to learn more, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, it might help you uncover your special talent,” Applejack mused.  “And Celestia forbid Apple Bloom hears I’d stop a filly from earning her cutie mark.  I think I know somepony you can talk to.

“And don’t you worry about the money.  I know a way your father will help us out.  Follow me, and I’ll show you.”

Curious, I followed Applejack downstairs.  She sat down, and opened the day’s copy of the Ponyville Express.  “Take a look at this,” she said.

“The First Annual Ponyville Running of the Leaves Race,” I recited.  “500 bit prizes for fastest time and for most leaves felled.”  The advertisement mentioned other prizes as well.

“See that?  Those prizes are there because of a grant your father made in his will, to help Ponyville grow.  And I have no problem with taking your father’s bits if I earn it in an honest competition.”





“Did you want to help out at the Running of the Leaves?” Applejack asked me as the week neared its end.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to run,” I said.

“Not like that,” Applejack said.  “We need somepony to sign up the racers.  And I talked to Mayor Mare.  I suggested you be the one to award the prize for the fastest racer.”

That sounded... very nice.  “I’ll do it.”





That Saturday, I rose early, and headed with Applejack to town hall.  A makeshift stage had been assembled for the day’s activities.  Next to it was a smaller table, labeled Registration.  It looked like I wouldn’t be handling registration alone.  A lavender unicorn was already seated.  Wait, she had wings, too.  I stopped, my knees locking.  A princess!  But that’s not a princess.  There are only three alicorns!  But... but... horn and wings!

“Twilight, I think you’d better introduce yourself, before Diamond Tiara drops dead of fright,” Applejack said.

The alicorn stood up and approached me, kneeling to bring herself to my eye level.  “It’s just me, Twilight Sparkle,” she said.

“P... princess?” I stuttered.

“Yes, but you can call me Twilight if you want.  I’m still the mare you knew.”

“I’m sorry, but... I lost my memory from before the accident,” I said quietly.

“I know, Diamond Tiara.  If you want to hear my story, I’m sure you could ask anypony in town.  Today, though, I’m just here to cast a spell on the runners,” Twilight Sparkle said.

“A spell?” I asked.

“Yes.  It will track each runner’s speed as well as the number of leaves they drop with their steps.  It might not be completing a masterpiece of an ancient spell by Star Swirl the Bearded, but I still enjoyed creating this new spell.”

“Hello?  Is this where I sign up?” an earth pony mare asked.  Like everypony, I didn’t recognize her.  Her coat was the color of cream, and her curly mane was blue and pink.  She looked up at the sign above us.  “Oh, I guess it is.”

“Good morning, Bon Bon,” Twilight Sparkle said.  “Would you like to sign up for the traditional Running of the Leaves, or the competitive race?”

“What’s the difference?” she asked.

“The competitive race has a ten bit entry fee, and is eligible for these prizes,” Twilight Sparkle said, motioning to a list.  “The entry fee benefits the Ponyville Improvement Fund, established through the generosity of Diamond Tiara’s father.”

“From Filthy Rich?  I’m not much of a runner, but for him, I’ll do the competitive race,” Bon Bon said.

“Excellent!  Now I’ll just need to cast a quick spell,” Twilight Sparkle said.

As Twilight Sparkle’s horn glowed, an aura briefly surrounded Bon Bon’s hooves.

“Did you know my father?” I asked Bon Bon.

“A little,” she replied.  “He always liked my candy.  One day, we started talking business.  He thought there was a market for candy somewhere between mass produced junk and hoofcrafted delicacies.  I worked on it, and he always encouraged me.  Eventually, I came up with the gourmet chocolate bars that are now sold in Barnyard Bargains across Equestria.”

It looked like my father’s efforts helped this local mare.

“You can sign me up for the big race, too,” Applejack said.  Turning to Bon Bon, she continued.  “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you, Bon Bon.  I can’t forget the year you finished before me.”

“But everypony beat you that year,” Twilight Sparkle said.

“Don’t remind me,” Applejack muttered.

Twilight Sparkle repeated the casting of her spell, and Applejack was ready to go.

Soon afterward, a line formed at the registration desk.  Twilight Sparkle greeted each local by name.  Most of them chose to participate in the traditional race.  However, there were a few dozen other ponies, who I suspected were from other cities, since Twilight Sparkle greeted them all with “Welcome to Ponyville!”  All came for the competitive race.  Most possessed cutie marks that suggested a talent in running or athletics.

We registered all of the runners.  Ponies milled around Town Hall while waiting for the race to start.  Vendors with their carts tried catching everypony’s attention, hoping to sell snacks and souvenirs.  Applejack waited with me by my booth.  Finally, the mayor stepped onstage.

“Welcome, everypony, to Ponyville’s annual Running of the Leaves,” Mayor Mare announced.  “To help usher in the end of autumn, we, the citizens of Ponyville, run a path through town, and then into the nearby Whitetail Wood, dropping the leaves from the trees.  This year, we’re adding a competitive race to the Running.  To explain the rules, let me welcome Princess Twilight Sparkle!”

Twilight Sparkle stepped to the podium.  “Thank you, everypony, for coming, and a special welcome to all of our first time visitors!  All of you with the yellow numbers on your flanks are registered for the competitive race.  Prizes will go to the fastest runners and to the ponies responsible for dropping the most leaves.  There are minimum requirements for both speed and leaves, so to all you pegasi, don’t think you can just fly the course!  You’ll need to make each hooffall count!

“Ten minutes after the racers depart, the rest of the runners, that’s all of you with the white numbers, will take off.  Working together, we’ll get the entire Whitetail Wood ready for winter!”

I thought by now that Applejack would be raring to race.  Instead, she was scanning the crowd.  A concerned expression had crossed her face during Twilight Sparkle’s speech.

“What’s wrong?”  I asked.

“It’s Rainbow Dash.  We always race,” Applejack replied.

I looked around, knowing the mare’s rainbow locks would be easy to spot in a crowd, but I couldn’t see her either.

“Racers, to the starting line!” Twilight Sparkle called.

I nudged Applejack.  “Please, go out there and run.  Do our family proud!”

With a heavy heart, Applejack joined the rest of the racers, her rival still nowhere to be found.

“And go!”

A light cloud of dust was raised as the racers departed, the thundering of hundreds of hooves slowly fading.  Ten minutes later, a larger yet quieter crowd departed.  And then, the town was quiet.

Most of the spectators took the opportunity to walk around Ponyville, as they would any other day.  It would be a while before the racers returned, so why not go shopping?  A few other ponies came up to talk to me.  They wanted to know how I was doing, and they mentioned how much they admired my father for his love of Ponyville.  I smiled politely, but I was lost.  How should I respond?  I couldn’t remember anything about my father.  Did they want me to be like him?  Was he some mythological figure I couldn’t hope to emulate?

I was very grateful to see Apple Bloom and the Crusaders approach.  I waved to them.

“Howdy, Diamond Tiara.  Did you get your cutie mark in registering ponies?”

“No,” I responded, not even bothering to look at my flank.

“Apple Bloom said you’d be over here today,” Sweetie Belle said.

“So what’s up?” Scootaloo asked.

“Nothing right now.  Just waiting,” I said.  “A lot of ponies have mentioned my father, saying he was a good pony.”

I heard nothing but three ponies nervously scratching the ground with their hooves.

“I’m sure they meant well,” Apple Bloom offered.

“I guess it should make me feel good that so many ponies liked my father,” I said.  “But it’s hard to feel anything.”

Apple Bloom suddenly hugged me.  “It’s harder when you do feel it,” she whispered.

Again, there was silence.

“Scootaloo, have you seen Rainbow Dash?” I asked, breaking the silence.

The pegasus filly scratched her head.  “No, not since our flying lesson last week.  Why?  What’s going on?”

“Isn’t she racing right now?” Apple Bloom asked.

“That’s just it.  Applejack was expecting her to race today, but she didn’t show up,” I said.

“Think she’s still upset?” Apple Bloom asked

“Upset over what?” Sweetie Belle wondered.

“The storm did a little damage to the farm,” Apple Bloom said.

“No way Rainbow Dash caused it,” Scootaloo said confidently.

“She’s blaming herself, wrongly, I think,” I said.

“Then we need to get Applejack and Rainbow Dash together so they can make up!” Sweetie Belle suggested.

“CUTIE MARK CRUSADER MAKE-UP ARTISTS, YAY!” the others screamed in unison.

“Wait, that doesn’t sound right,” Scootaloo observed.

I heard a low rumble in the distance.  “It’ll have to wait until the race is over.”

The spectators also heard the sound of the returning runners, and gathered along both sides of the marked finish line.  I followed the Crusaders and tried to get a good view of the finish line.  We crowded between the legs of the adult ponies in time to see the lead racers.  Two stallions were neck and neck.  Their coats glistened with sweat.  Their nostrils flared, greedily taking in as much oxygen as they could.  Each spared a brief glance at the other before setting their gazes straight ahead.  They forced themselves to the limit of their endurance, but the pale orange stallion had just a little more energy.  He surged ahead of the light blue stallion, winning by a length.

Over the next ten minutes, the racers with the yellow numbers all crossed the finish line.  Volunteers greeted them with mugs of water and towels, which were gratefully accepted.  Applejack wasn’t among the fastest runners, but she finished in a respectable time.  Apple Bloom raced up to her, embracing her sister despite the sweat dripping from her barrel.

The excitement of the crowd had just begun to die down when the first of the second group of racers approached the finish line.  The townsfolk looked tired, though not to the extent of the competitive racers.  Over the span of twenty minutes, everypony completed the run.

Twilight Sparkle gently placed a wing over me, causing me to raise my head, attracting my attention to an envelope floating in front of me.  “Here are the winning racers.  Their medals are waiting at the podium.  Mayor Mare will be calling you up shortly.”

“Okay,” I replied, walking to a seat near the stage.

Mayor Mare took her position at the podium.  “Fillies and gentlecolts, good morning to you all!  Thank you for coming to this year’s Running of the Leaves, and special thanks to all of this year’s runners.  With your help, the Whitetail Wood is ready for winter.  Now, as much as I know how long you’ve been waiting to hear me speak....”  Mayor Mare paused, allowing the crowd to chuckle at her joke.  “You’re all waiting to know who won the race.  For that, I’d like to call Diamond Tiara to stage.”

I trotted up the stairs and to the podium.  Thankfully, somepony had placed a stool by the podium, allowing me to stand on it and see over the podium.  I opened the envelope, and used my hoof to slide out the paper inside it.

“Thank you, Mayor.  I hope everypony has made some beautiful memories of Ponyville today.”  None more than me.  “Here are the results.  In third place, with a time of 47 minutes, 38 seconds, from Manehattan, Silverhoof.”  A silver mare stepped onto the stage.  I placed the medal around her neck and shook her hoof.

“In second place, with a time of 46 minutes, 13 seconds, from Fillydelphia, Lightning Tracer.”  The light blue stallion smiled, despite his close loss, as he accepted the medal.

“And in first place, with a time of 46 minutes, 11 seconds, from Canterlot, Dawn Runner.”  The fit stallion, his coat now recognizable as the colors of his namesake, beamed as he took the gold medal.

Mayor Mare stepped up to the podium.  I stepped down and headed offstage, taking a seat by the Crusaders, as she addressed the crowd again.  “And now, Princess Twilight Sparkle will show us the names of the ponies responsible for felling the most leaves this morning.”

Twilight Sparkle walked up the stairs, despite having wings.  Her horn flared, and swirls appeared above her head.  There were three rows, each a different color, and two columns.  Each character was identical, like the pattern of a firework captured at the peak of its beauty.

“Thanks to the spell cast on each of the racers, I have tracked how many leaves each racer shook from the trees of Whitetail Wood, all while maintaining an incredible pace.  Without further ado, here are the results.”

The swirls in the bottom right changed shape, forming a number in the hundreds of thousands.  “In third place, Shoeshine!”  As she announced the name, the swirls on the bottom left formed into her name.  The process repeated itself as second place was announced, Golden Harvest.

I found myself holding my breath as first, the swirls in the upper right were replaced by a number, twenty percent higher than second place.  Then, I heard it and saw it simultaneously.  “Applejack!”

I joined the Crusaders in jumping with joy, screaming our heads off.  She did it!

I felt a pair of strong forelegs embrace me.  “Told you I’d win,” Applejack said, smiling.

“How did you know?”

“Trust me, I have lots of practice with dropping leaves from trees.”





We let Applejack go, claiming Crusader business.  Once she was out of earshot, I asked if anypony knew where to find Rainbow Dash.  Three heads shook no.

We tried asking around town.  Nopony had seen her.

“I guess... she’s at home?” Scootaloo suggested.

“Let’s check there,” I said.

“But she lives in a cloud house,” Apple Bloom pointed out.

We all sighed.  But our brief contemplation was interrupted by a rope ladder falling among us.

I looked up.  There was a hot air balloon, and Pinkie Pie was waving to us.  “Looks like somepony needs a lift!” she yelled down to us.

“But how?” I uttered.

“That’s just Pinkie being Pinkie,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Scootaloo said, starting up the ladder.

I tested climbing the ladder.  I didn’t feel any strain, so I climbed the twenty rungs.  Pinkie Pie helped me into the basket.  Soon afterward, we were joined by Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom.

“So how...” I started.

“I got a twitchy tail, floppy tail, then a twitchy and floppy tail, followed by three ear itches!  That told me somepony was looking for a lift into the clouds.  It’s a good thing I had this balloon to report on today’s race!”  Pinkie Pie said, all without taking a breath.

“Hey, now we can try to get our cutie marks in hot air balloon piloting!” Sweetie Belle said.

“Sure thing!” Pinkie Pie said, passing Apple Bloom a rope.

“Uh, what do I do?” she said uncertainly.

“First, we need to turn up the fire, and then we use these ropes to control the balloon!” Pinkie Pie said.  The baker and party pony also seemed to be good at handling flying machines as well.  She let us each put our hooves on the controls, but I observed she remained in control the whole time.

“This is a lot faster with a pegasus towing it,” Pinkie Pie ruminated.

I looked to my friends.  They shrugged.

It didn’t actually take that long until we spotted a rather large cloud house.  Its most striking feature was the liquid rainbow flowing in multiple fountains.  It was quiet, but then again, we were far above Ponyville.

“I’ll go check on Rainbow Dash,” Scootaloo suggested.  That was probably a wise decision, since she was the only pony in the balloon who could walk on clouds.

She jumped into the clouds, trotting to the cloud mansion’s front door with a bounce in her step.  I watched as she knocked, knocked again, and finally pressed her ear against a cloud wall.

Dejected, Scootaloo returned to the balloon.  “I don’t think Rainbow Dash is home,” she said.

“At least we got a chance to get our cutie marks!” Sweetie Belle said.  We all looked at our flanks.  Of course, they were still blank.

“Thanks for your help, Pinkie Pie,” I said.

“I’m sure you’ll find Rainbow Dash!”  Her smile never left her face.





Our latest crusade a bust, Apple Bloom and I headed home.  I thought about all the good things people said about my father, the good he was still doing.  I remembered the mare, Bon Bon, whose own life was improved by knowing my father.  That reminded me of something.

“Hey, Apple Bloom?  Do you remember a year when Applejack finished behind Bon Bon in the Running of the Leaves race?”

Apple Bloom thought back.  “That was probably the year Applejack tied for last with Rainbow Dash.  They spent the whole race trying to trick each other, so much that they didn’t focus enough on the actual running!”

“They must really have some friendship,” I observed.

“Yeah, they go way back,” Apple Bloom said.

“Do you think they’re going to be okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, if they’ll just talk.”

We returned to find Applejack and Big McIntosh both working on repairs to the barn.

“Howdy, girls,” Applejack said.  “Did you have fun?”

“No cutie marks,” Apple Bloom said.

“Applejack, did you find Rainbow Dash?  Are you two going to be okay?” I asked.

“Don’t worry.  Rainbow Dash is tough,” Applejack replied.

That wasn’t an answer to my question.  “But you’re worried,” I stated.

“Yeah, but maybe she just needs time.”

“We tried to talk to Rainbow Dash, but we couldn’t find her, and she wasn’t home either,” Apple Bloom said.

Big McIntosh climbed down the ladder and dropped the hammer from his mouth.  “Sis, I don’t like seeing you when you’re worried about your friends.  The barn will be here tomorrow.  Go find Rainbow Dash.”

“All right,” Applejack said, conceding defeat.

“Can we come too?” Apple Bloom asked.  She gave Applejack a look with those irresistible puppy dog eyes.  I really have to learn how to do that.

Applejack sighed.  “Okay.”





Together, we returned to central Ponyville.  We asked around, but it proved to be as fruitless as before.  Nopony had seen Rainbow Dash all day, not even the pegasi who worked on the weather team with her.  “She always takes a day off for the Running of the Leaves,” one said.

“Yeah, but the only thing she’s running from is me,” Applejack muttered.

“You really think she is?” Apple Bloom asked.

“That mare can be as stubborn as me,” she replied.  “If she got it in her head that she hurt me and mine, she’s going to have a hard time getting that out of her mind.”

“How did she get over that fight you had over the race?” I asked.

“Being told we tied for last place, that told us how foolish we both were,” Applejack said.  “I wonder...” she muttered.  We both looked at Applejack expectantly.

“You two up for a little walk?”





“This is the Whitetail Wood,” Applejack said.  An impressive forest, the Whitetail Wood stretched to the horizon.  Those trees that weren’t evergreens had branches completely stripped of leaves, with the thick carpet of fallen leaves a testament to the work done earlier that day.

After about ten minutes, I started feeling tired.  I tried not to show it, but Applejack noticed.  She ordered me onto her back.  I complained, but actually felt relieved to get off my hooves.

“So we’re following the route I ran earlier.  I think we’ve got the ideal route through these woods identified, as you can see from the lack of leaves,” Applejack said.  After a few moments, she started looking around.

“Here’s where Rainbow Dash and I accused each other of tripping the other, but it was just rocks and stumps,” Applejack observed.  She pointed further down the trail.  “There was a beehive over there that year.”

After another ten minutes, we came across a painted wooden arrow.  Applejack kicked it, spinning the arrow to point it in another direction.  “Here’s where Rainbow Dash changed the sign, and I got fooled.  Even though I’ve run this race since I was your age, I was so caught up in our competition, I didn’t notice I was running uphill, away from the trees.”

“Do you think she might be up there?” I asked.

“Well, if she didn’t want to be found, that would be a pretty good place to go.”

Taking my suggestion, Applejack headed up the rocky trail.  The ground was untouched, but I suppose it’s hard to look for tracks from a pegasus.  After a careful climb, we spotted the errant pegasus, or at least her rainbow-colored tail.  She was resting on the edge of a rocky outcropping, gazing out at the woods beyond.

“Dash,” Applejack said.

The pegasus came out of her reverie.  “Hi,” she said, without much enthusiasm.

“So,” Applejack started.

“So,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“Race wasn’t the same without you,” Applejack said.

“I just wasn’t in the mood for the race.”

“You’re never not in the mood for a competition,” Applejack asserted.

Rainbow Dash stared off before speaking again.  “You know?  I haven’t touched that cider.”

“That’s not like you either,” Applejack said.

“I don’t think I could drink it without remembering what I did.”

Applejack lowered herself to her knees; I took the cue and jumped off.  Then, Applejack walked over to Rainbow Dash.  “Sugarcube, you’re still my friend.  You’re still a darn fine weather pony.  And your loyalty is unmatched.  You need to stop running from whatever is bothering you.  You can talk to me about anything.”

Rainbow Dash looked from Applejack to us fillies.

“Think you two can step away for a moment?” Applejack asked.  We nodded and departed.

“You think we’ll get our cutie marks in ponies making up now?” Apple Bloom whispered.

“I hope they make up,” I responded, “but we probably won’t get a cutie mark.”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom admitted.

We were far enough away from the two mares that we couldn’t hear them clearly.  Words were lost to the distance, but their tone managed to carry.  Some of the words sounded rather heated.  Then, they stopped.

Apple Bloom and I waited with bated breath.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash came down the hill, smiling and nudging each other.  “Don’t you two worry,” Applejack said, “we know how to handle this.”

“We’re going to settle this with a race back to Ponyville,” Rainbow Dash said.  “And when I win, I’m going to....”

“Now hold on partner, you think you can beat me in a hoof race?” Applejack countered.

“With ease!” Rainbow Dash boasted.

“We’ll see about that.  Diamond Tiara, you hop on.  Apple Bloom, get on Dash and keep her honest.”

“Are we getting in over our heads?” I whispered to Apple Bloom.

“Just keep your eye out for tree sap, and we’ll be okay,” she whispered back.

I climbed on Applejack and held on tight.  Apple Bloom steeled herself as Rainbow Dash counted down.  “Three... two... one... GO!”

They were running again, but running together.  Whatever trouble still existed between Applejack and Rainbow Dash was being worked out in the way they knew best.  Everything would be fine, just as long as I could hold on.

> Chapter 10: Jam
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 10: Jam





I could feel the pace of work on the farm shift.  With cider season done, work continued, but without the restrictions of looming deadlines.  There were late fall apples to harvest, plus leaves to knock off trees.  But we only had a brief respite from these deadlines.

“The timber wolves are a-howling!  The timber wolves are a-howling!”

Granny Smith’s cry came as a surprise to me.  It was just a normal evening, being spent as a family in the living room.  Apple Bloom and I were working on homework by the fire.  I had noticed the noises from the forest beyond on several occasions, but in general tuned them out.  And while timber wolves were frightening creatures, their howls weren’t dangerous.

Applejack must have noticed my confusion.  “Diamond Tiara, that’s the first sign that the zap apples are going to come in.  And that means we’re going to drop just about everything else and get ready,” she explained.  “Now, pretty much everything is going to seem strange, but just remember, these are magic apples, and magic doesn’t always make sense.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Why don’t you come with me to the market tomorrow?” Applejack suggested.  “There’s a few items I need to pick up, and I can tell you all about zap apples.

“But I have school tomorrow!” I protested.

“I’ll talk to Miss Cheerilee.  I think she’ll be willing to let you go for the day.  It just might help you remember something.  So, do you want to come?”

I nodded.  I turned back to my homework, but couldn’t help but wonder about these magic apples.



“Apple Bloom, why would these zap apples help me remember?”  I asked as I crawled into bed, blowing out the candle.

“Last year, Granny Smith came to school, and told us foals about the founding of Ponyville.  You were there as she talked about the discovery of zap apples and how she learned to turn them into a delicious jam,” Apple Bloom said.  “And, you helped make the jam.”

“Me?” I wondered.  That didn’t make any sense.

“Your father made you do it,” Apple Bloom explained.  “But making zap apple jam is an experience that’s hard to forget.  Maybe it’s still somewhere in your mind.”

I was quiet after that.  I thought hard, but no memories came to mind.  Hopefully, I would feel something soon.



“Applejack, why are we shopping in the marketplace?”

“We’re good on pots, but we’re going to need more jars for the jam,” she explained.

We needed more jars.  We had passed a company that sold jars, Barnyard Bargains.  My company, I reminded myself.  But Applejack instead took me to the marketplace near the heart of Ponyville.

“But why get jars here?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Applejack said.  “Best explanation is, it’s magic.”

I looked at her curiously.

“Take canning,” she continued.  “Every winter, we seal up fruits and vegetables to keep them safe to eat months later.  But that’s not magic, just good old fashioned earth pony ingenuity.  But zap apple jam, now that has to be kept in special jars.  Granny says the jar has to be one that can be bit, and then not be afraid to bite back.”

Now, I looked at Applejack in utter confusion.

“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense.  It’s magic,” she said.

I never really thought of inanimate objects as having feelings.  But really, why wouldn’t they have feelings?  At least on some level that wasn’t apparent on the surface?

We stopped at a glassblower’s stand, at least if the mare’s cutie mark was any indication.  Applejack assessed each glass with a careful eye.

“Do you think you have what it takes to keep zap apple jam fresh?” she suddenly shouted.  I jumped back.  The mare at the stand raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react; apparently, this was just par for the course.

I stared at the glasses.  They didn’t look any different.  Wait.  There was something about the way the sunlight reflected off the glass.  Some of the glasses shined defiantly, while others looked dulled after Applejack’s tirade.  Applejack collected the glasses that shined, and negotiated with the mare at the stand.

After Applejack paid for the new jars, I asked her, “Is that what you meant by bite?”

“It works.  Now, if Granny were here, she might actually have bitten the glasses.  It’s a mite problematic, with her false teeth and all.”

Magic.  I don’t claim to understand it.

“Next, we’re going to need honey,” Applejack said.

I pointed to one of the booths in the Ponyville marketplace.  “I see honey for sale there,” I said.

“We need a lot more honey than one bottle,” Applejack said.  “Keep an eye out for the beekeeper.”

We found her soon afterwards.  Applejack nodded to her, then turned to the bees themselves.  Her actions were confusing, a series of random movements, followed by offerings of flowers.

“We’re done,” she said.

“What?”

“I spoke to the bees, and they’ll provide the honey for the zap apple jam,” Applejack explained.  “Sweet bees make sweet honey, and sweet honey is necessary for zap apple jam to taste the way it should.  A bottle of honey?  There’s no certainty that it will work.”

Applejack looked at my blank expression.  “Look, I think the best thing we could do is have Granny Smith tell you about the founding of Ponyville.”



“And that’s the story of the first zap apple harvest!  And it was the first product your great-grandfather, Stinkin’ Rich, ever sold in Barnyard Bargains!”

I sat there, smiling, my hooves pressed together under my chin, the rest of my dinner forgotten.  That story was fascinating!  It’s hard to believe that, as recently as the youth of Granny Smith, there was no such place as Ponyville.

“And you’ve been making zap apple jam ever since?” I asked.

“You betcha!” Granny Smith said.

“What’s the next sign?” I asked.

“There will be strange weather,” Granny Smith said ominously.  “Dark clouds that defy the touch of even the greatest pegasus weather manager!  And then, suddenly, lightning will course through the zap apple trees, and leaves will appear!”

“That must be some sight,” I said, awed.

We heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.  I hurried to the window.  Above the orchard, I saw the strange clouds form, a swirling miasma of gray.  Lightning flickered above, but stayed confined to the sky.  I watched the scene until a single arc of lightning descended from the clouds.

Applejack rested a hoof on my withers.  I hadn’t even notice her step beside me.  “That one spark of lightning makes the first leaf appear on a tree,” she described.  “From there, the energy will flow over that tree, then moving to all of the zap apple trees.  And after a few seconds, all the trees will be fully covered in strange leaves.”

Incredible.



“Rise and shine!” Granny Smith called from downstairs.

I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.  The position of Celestia’s sun suggested it was near dawn.  It was the weekend, so we didn’t need to get up.  Was this another step in zap apple jam production?

Downstairs, the smell of cinnamon and apples attracted me to our oatmeal breakfast.  But what first caught my attention were the mysterious articles on the couch.  It almost looked like... fur?

Everypony was already downstairs, getting ready for breakfast.  “Are we working on the zap apples today?” I asked.

“Eeyup,” Big McIntosh said.

“Now that the zap apple trees have their leaves, we’re going to need to water them,” Applejack said.

That sounded normal.  In fact, breakfast was normal, with our normal conversations about school, the farm, and the goings-on in Ponyville.

As soon as I finished my oatmeal, Applejack said, “You ready, sugarcube?”

“Sure,” I replied.

Something soft pelted me from the living room.  Apple Bloom had thrown one of those strange fur-like articles as me.  I held it out, letting it take shape.

I was staring at a rabbit costume.

“Let me guess, it’s magic?”

Applejack nodded.  “I don’t profess to know why the water likes being sung to by ponies in costume, but the zap apples taste off if you don’t do that.”

I shrugged, and squeezed into the costume.  I didn’t much like the feeling of the costume.  I was already feeling hot, since everything but my face was covered, and having my tail plastered to my rump was annoying.  I kept trying to twitch it!  I headed out, catching my reflection in a mirror on the way.  I looked silly.  I looked stupid.

Out behind the house, a number of watering cans were arranged in a circle.  Granny Smith and Apple Bloom were there and in costume.  “What do we sing?” I asked.

“The alphabet song!” Granny Smith replied.  “Sweet and simple, and easy to sing while hopping.”

I had no problem remembering that song.  I got in position, the three of us spaced equally around the circle.

“A one, a two, a three!” Granny Smith announced before starting to sing.

I started to sing as well.  A, B, hop on C, D, E, hop on F, G.  I glanced around.  H, I, hop on J K, L M N O, hop on P.  I felt hot.  I adjusted my suit, trying to get some air under it.  Q, R, hop on S, T, U, hop on V.  I looked around again.  W, hop on X, Y, hop on Z.

A drop of sweat trickled down my muzzle.  I felt Apple Bloom’s eyes on me.  I turned around, staring back.  Apple Bloom twisted her mouth, a cruel gesture.  More sweat.  I wiped my brow with my fetlock.

“Are you okay?  You don’t look good,” Apple Bloom said.

“Don’t look good?” I hissed.  A drop of sweat worked its way into my eye.  I stared at my nemesis through blurred vision.  I looked away, squeezing my eyes shut.

“STOP MOCKING ME!”



I opened my eyes.  The first thing I noticed was that it was cooler.  I wasn’t in the bunny suit, and I was inside.  I recognized that I was lying on my bed.  I felt a wet rag on my forehead.  Then I noticed the burning in my eyes, the soreness in my throat, and an itchy feeling around my nostrils.  I had been crying.

I looked up, and saw Applejack, sitting on Apple Bloom’s bed.  She had a look of concern on her face.  “You gave us a big scare back there,” she said.

“I...” I started, before pausing.  What happened back there?  It felt like waking up from a nightmare, something bad enough to make me break down, but whatever it was remained hazy.  “What did I do?”

“You screamed at Apple Bloom, and then collapsed.  You looked flushed, so we brought you inside to rest.  I don’t think it’s a fever.  You don’t feel hot anymore.”

“What did I tell her?” I asked hesitantly.

“Something about feeling like you were being mocked,” Applejack said.

Feelings.  As I tried to remember what had just happened, I shivered.  It was a bad feeling.  Embarrassment?

“Look, Diamond Tiara, I was hoping you might remember something, but if I had known this was going to happen, I never would have let you help out.”

“Applejack?  Apple Bloom said I helped with the jam last year.  What did I do?”

“Just that,” Applejack replied.  “Your father told you to help us with treating the watering cans.”

“How did I react then?”

“Not like that.  You were angry, like a foal being told to do something she didn’t want to do.”

I fell quiet.  All this time, the only thing I was able to remember about my past was the occasional feeling.  I didn’t doubt Applejack was being honest about how I acted.  But was I remembering what I actually felt?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.  “I hope I didn’t ruin the zap apple harvest.”

“Don’t worry. Granny Smith says things will be fine,” Applejack replied reassuringly.

“If you don’t mind, I’d still like to help the harvest.  Is there something I didn’t do last year that I could do today?” I asked.

“You didn’t water the trees last year.  Why don’t you come help this year?”

I nodded and hopped off the bed.  The shakiness of my legs had nothing to do with my injury.  I followed Applejack out of the farmhouse, to where I had been previously.  Two of the watering cans remained untouched.

Applejack nodded to me, and picked up a watering can in her mouth.  I whispered an apology to the watering can, and took it in my mouth.

On to water the zap apple trees.



On Sunday, I found the Apples in the kitchen, mixing together red and white paint.  This must be for the pink polka dots that Granny Smith talked about.

“Now be careful to get the mixture right!” Granny Smith instructed.  “Two units of white paint to one of red!  The zap apples like a very particular shade of pink!”

I stepped onto the tarp protecting the floor of the kitchen.  “We’ll be painting polka dots soon!”  Apple Bloom said.

Granny Smith inspected the work of her older grandchildren.  “Now that’s exactly right!  Let’s get to polka dotting!”

“Go ahead and grab a brush,” Applejack said.

I took one of the paintbrushes in my pastern.  Big McIntosh poured the pink paint into shallow pans and placed them around the room.  I dipped my brush and held it over the pan, letting the drips fall before beginning.

I stared at the paintbrush and my foreleg.  The color of the paint was exactly the same as my coat.



“Is the fourth sign coming soon?” I asked.

“Should be tonight,” Granny Smith replied.  “At least, if the pain in my left front knee is any indication.”

“Have you ever watched the stars fall?” I wondered.

“Not in a long time, Diamond Tiara.  Once I figured out all the signs, I’ve let the magic run its course.”

I looked to Apple Bloom.  “How about you?”

“No, I never did.”

“Do you want to watch for the fourth sign together?” I offered.

“Okay,” Apple Bloom said.

An hour later, the two of us walked into the orchard, the light of the full moon guiding us.  We carried two heavy blankets, a pot of hot chocolate, and some apples.

“This is the place,” Apple Bloom said.

I remembered seeing these trees back during the harvest.  What was so distinct about them was the complete absence of leaves.  A good number of the trees in the orchard were now without leaves, but even several passes around the property still left the apple trees with a few lingering leaves.  These trees?  They had zero leaves then.  Now, the branches were covered by odd leaves and strange blossoms.

“Back when we were harvesting apples, these trees had no leaves at all, right?” I asked.

“Eeyup,” Apple Bloom replied.

“I thought the trees were sick.  Or dead.”

“They do kind of look creepy, especially during a summer night,” Apple Bloom said.  “But it’s just the nature of their magic.”

We sat down nearby, but outside of the roughly oval patch of zap apple trees.  As soon as we stopped moving, the night’s chill bit into our coats.  We hastily got under the blankets.  I sat next to Apple Bloom, a mug of hot chocolate between my hooves.  I looked to her.  She looked away.

“I’m sorry I got so mad with the watering,” I said.

“I know you didn’t mean it.  It made you feel something, and that’s a good thing,” Apple Bloom said.  “And I know it’s silly.  Really silly.  But there’s a difference between doing something silly to hurt somepony, and doing something silly because it works.”

“Based on Granny Smith’s stories, there’s a lot of weird things that are going to happen,” I observed.

“Polka dots, definitely.  But if you think about it, even applebucking looks a little silly.”  Apple Bloom stood up, shucking her blanket.  She then balanced on her front hooves, lifted her rump in the air, and kicked out at a phantom tree before resting again on her four hooves.  She was right.  That did look silly, but I’d seen the power of those silly movements when applied to an apple tree.

I didn’t want to leave Apple Bloom the only embarrassed pony.  I got out from under my blanket and set my mug down.  I tried to buck like she had.  In theory, the motions seemed so simple.  But my first attempt had me fall back onto four hooves before even kicking.  So did my second.  I had kicked up harder, but still felt myself losing my balance too quickly.  I tried one more time, and felt myself losing my balance in the other way.  I fell, somersaulting forward.

“Are you okay, Diamond Tiara?” Apple Bloom asked, helping me to my hooves.

I nodded slowly.  I’m going to need a lot more practice if I’m going to help out on the farm.

We returned to our blankets and cocoa.  We stayed quiet, enjoying the night together.

A streak of light brought both of our gazes skyward.  It so resembled the shooting stars that were part of Luna’s purview.  But speak to other ponies, even those on the other side of Ponyville, and they would mention they didn’t see these shooting stars.  A pair of streaks followed, and then a veritable explosion of starlight.

Finally, one last magical star crossed the sky.  As it faded to darkness, the branches of the zap apple trees wavered.  At the center of each blossom, a single fruit rapidly grew.  Once finished, the blossom petals fluttered down, disappearing before they touched ground.  And again, within seconds, these magical trees were covered in gray fruit.

“That’s not a natural color for a fruit,” I commented.  “But it’s clear they’re not ripe.”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said.  “Trust me, you don’t want to try picking them now.  You don’t even want to touch the trees.”



We knew the fifth sign would happen sometime Monday.  And as soon as that storm came, Applejack and Big McIntosh would work nonstop to harvest the now ripe zap apples.  Apple Bloom received permission from our teacher to miss school Tuesday, to help with the harvest.  I wouldn’t be joining them.  That was fair, since I missed class Friday.

Zap apples were on everypony’s mind at recess and during lunch.  I gathered that most of the students had eaten the jam before, and just like the cider, it was something they looked forward to each year.  All their talk about the jam made me want to try it!

By the time we got home and stepped into the farmhouse, it was apparent the final sign hadn’t happened.  The elder Apple siblings were still indoors.  They tended to their chores and helped prepare the kitchen for making the jam, all with a feeling of anticipation and a hint of nervousness.  Even though we expected it to happen sometime at night, everypony kept looking out to the orchard, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss the arrival of the fifth sign.

The fact that Granny Smith woke me up for school the next day told me that the fifth sign had happened as expected.  Apple Bloom’s bed was empty; she had no doubt headed out at dawn to help her brother and sister.  With just the two of us, the farmhouse was quiet.  It reminded me of my days here, back when I was still in recovery.

During school, my mind was back on the farm.  I hoped everything was going well.  I found it hard to concentrate.  I do hope I wrote down the homework assignments I was taking home for Apple Bloom correctly!

Once I got home, I collected a bag of apples and a bucket of water, and carried them out to my family.  They all smiled and accepted the refreshments eagerly, Applejack tipping her hat.  The zap apple trees were almost completely harvested by now.  That made me smile.

By dinnertime, the harvest was complete.  The cellar was filled with the multicolored magical apples.  But nopony was in the mood to celebrate yet, as plenty of work remained.  Dinner consisted of cold leftovers, because the kitchen was set up to cook the zap apple jam.  We ate rapidly, so we could get to cooking the jam.

And cook we did!  Apple Bloom got to make the first batch by herself, albeit with Granny Smith watching carefully.  I was curious, so I watched as well.  After heating the stove to just the right temperature, she mixed the chopped zap apples with honey and pectin.  She stirred the cooking mixture carefully.  It didn’t look like much, a muddled brownish mixture the consistency of syrup.

Then, something happened.  The pot glowed, all colors of the rainbow visible.  And when the glow faded, the mixture in the pot was separated into the colors of the rainbow.  Even as the mixture was stirred, the colors remained distinct.

Apple Bloom took the jam off the stove and poured it into the waiting jars.  None of the jars cracked under pressure, and the jam remained brightly colored.  Even though I had just eaten dinner, my stomach grumbled.

“It’s got to cool down beforehand,” Applejack cautioned.

With the first batch complete, everypony crowded into the kitchen.  Zap apples were chopped, jam was stirred, and jars were assembled.  Four pots of jam were cooking at all times, until exhaustion began to overtake us.

“I think it’s time to enjoy the fruits of our labor,” Applejack said.  “Apple Bloom?”

The filly headed into the kitchen, opening the first jar of zap apple jam with her mouth.  Big McIntosh was already slicing a loaf of bread.  Once she had a slice of bread in front of her, Apple Bloom dipped a butter knife into the jar, and then spread the jam on the bread.

“Your turn, Diamond Tiara,” Apple Bloom said.

I nodded and entered.  I gripped the knife in my pastern.  It was just thin enough that I had trouble gripping it, and I eventually needed to use a second hoof to steady it.  I spread the jam on the bread, marveling at the way the colors remained distinct, six swaths of color.

And finally, the taste test.  I raised the bread to my mouth and took a bite.  The flavor was like a blend of apples and cherries.  No, apples and pears.  Apples and blueberries.  Each twist of my tongue brought out another flavor from the zap apple jam.  This jam was incredible!

After we each enjoyed bread and jam, Applejack herded us into the living room, where we huddled together.

“Good job, everypony!” Granny Smith said.  “It’s a bumper crop of zap apples this year!  And that’s a lot of jam!”

“There’s still a lot to do,” Applejack added.  “Granny, you get your rest tonight.  The zap apples want only your best as you make more jam tomorrow.  And I’ll be out front tomorrow, selling this jam and making a lot of ponies happy.”

“Eeyup,” Big McIntosh said.

“Now you two have school tomorrow.  Get a move on!”



Apple Bloom climbed onto her bed and pulled out her math textbook.  She had worked in the orchard longer than I had, so she wasn’t yet finished with her assignment.  I headed for the bathroom first.

By the time I returned to our bedroom, Apple Bloom had completed her homework.  She finished packing her saddlebags and pushed them into the corner.  She untied her bow, letting her mane fall free, and headed to the bathroom.

I stared at the bow, now just a long ribbon.  Trying to hold the knife this evening reminded me that I’m still not physically on par with my family.  I tried gripping the ribbon in my pastern, but it slipped out.  Using both forelegs, I was finally able to lift it.

Tying a bow.  It was a feat of dexterity that a pony of my age should have mastered.  I put the ribbon into my mane and tried to form a loop.  Both ends of the ribbon slipped out of my grip.  I sighed.

“What are you doing?”

I turned to Apple Bloom, in the process revealing her ribbon hanging from my head.

“Don’t touch that!” she yelled.

I scrambled to get the ribbon out of my mane, ending up with it falling to the floor.  Apple Bloom gasped, and rushed forward.  She picked up the ribbon with her mouth and carefully placed it on the nightstand.

I turned away and crawled into bed.  I chanced a look at Apple Bloom, and found her staring daggers at me.

I wanted to explain what I was doing.  How I just wanted to practice tying a bow.  How I had noticed my mane falling into my eyes as I had been working this last week.  How it was just a ribbon.

It wasn’t just a ribbon, though.  I could tell by the anger on Apple Bloom’s face.

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked out.  “I won’t touch it again.”  Apple Bloom turned away in a huff.

This is not the kind of jam I wanted to get into.

> Chapter 11: Accounting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 11: Accounting





“Now, get moving, you two!” Applejack ordered after knocking on our door.  “Especially you, Diamond Tiara.  There’s somepony I want you to meet.”

Apple Bloom and I were already awake.  Getting up at dawn was surprisingly easy to get used to.  However, the urgency was a bit unusual.  We both knew that being too slow to finish morning chores meant those would become afternoon chores.

I glanced back at Apple Bloom as I headed to the bathroom.  She was quiet.  Whether that was tiredness or her being upset, I couldn’t tell.

Once I was ready, Applejack brought me to the entrance to the farm.  Just like during cider season, there was a long line of ponies waiting.  At the front was an older, heavyset earth pony stallion, with a cutie mark of three bit coins.  Unusual for Ponyville, he wore a collar and tie.

“Diamond Tiara, this is Mr. Bottom Line.  He’s running Rich’s Barnyard Bargains now,” Applejack said.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss Tiara,” he replied, shaking my hoof.  “Your father had only good things to say about you.  It’s a shame our meeting had to come under these circumstances.”

Bottom Line looked concerned, perhaps worried that mentioning my father would be upsetting.  He probably didn’t know exactly what happened to me.

Regardless of how I should have felt, here was a pony that could help me.  “Did you know my father well?” I asked.

“Not as well as I would have liked, I’m afraid,” he said.  “I was the manager of the store in Whinnyapolis, and rose to be the manager of the north region.  I might have been his right-hoof pony, but because of the distance, most of our interaction came over letters and telegrams.”

At this point, Big McIntosh approached, pulling a wagon filled with jars of zap apple jam.  “Wonderful!” Bottom Line exclaimed.

“As promised, here are the first five hundred jars, for the store,” Applejack said.  Big McIntosh set two crates in front of Bottom Line.

“Excellent!  I’ve got a contract ready for the same amount, next year.  And I’d also like to buy two jars myself, for personal consumption.  Mr. Rich introduced me to zap apple jam, and let me tell you, it is the most wonderful jam I’ve ever tasted!”

“Well, thank you kindly,” Applejack replied.  She checked the position of the sun in the sky.  “Now, sales here don’t start for another fifteen minutes or so, but I suppose I could make an exception....”

“Nonsense.  I can wait, and there’s a filly just aching to ask me some questions,” he replied.  I jumped.  He was right.  I did have a bunch of questions.  But I didn’t know I was being obvious about it.

I thought about asking him how he knew I wanted to ask questions, but instead went with my original query.  “Why did you come all the way out here to pick up the jam yourself?”  It takes an entire day to travel to Whinnyapolis.

“Running Rich’s Barnyard Bargains keeps me entirely too busy, Miss Tiara.  A certain amount of travel is required,” he replied.  “I still haven’t met with all my regional managers and store managers.  So why not pay a visit to the Ponyville store while personally meeting the creators of the product that put Barnyard Bargains on the retail map?”

“What are your plans for the future?” I asked.

“I plan on continuing your father’s vision, to bring quality goods at discount prices to all the ponies of Equestria.”

“How did you get started?  As a store manager?”

“Actually, I started as a buyer, searching the Whinnyapolis area for the kinds of quality products shoppers at Barnyard Bargains would like to buy.”  The stallion looked quite happy as he related the story of his rise to the top.  I stood in rapt attention as I learned about his biggest deals and even a couple of his mistakes.  I felt bad when Applejack announced that they were now open for business, as that meant Bottom Line would be completing his own transaction.

Sure enough, Bottom Line paid for two jars of zap apple jam, adding them to his saddlebags, before balancing the crates on his back.  He nodded to me.  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Diamond Tiara,” he said before turning to leave.

“Likewise, Mr. Bottom Line,” I replied.





That evening, I had the chance to ask Applejack a question that had been lingering in my mind.  “A while back, before zap apple harvest, you had mentioned somepony I could talk to, to learn more about my father’s business.  Was Bottom Line that pony?”

“Actually, no,” Applejack replied.  “It was just coincidence that Bottom Line decided he wanted to meet the makers of zap apple jam.  I was actually thinking of your father’s lawyer, Legal Plan.  I gather he’s the closest thing your father had to a confidant.”

“He knows the business?” I asked.

“Probably better than most, though I didn’t talk to him much about it,” Applejack admitted.  “He’s the pony we talked to about the custody deal and the trust fund and all that.  I reckon he’d be willing to spend some time talking to you.”

“Where can I find him?”

“He has an office in the Ponyville Professional Building, just east of town center.”





After school, I went to find Legal Plan.  The buildings in the center of Ponyville, those closest to the town hall, are fairly distinct.  It’s hard to miss the confection-shaped Sugarcube Corner or the carousel-shaped Carousel Boutique.  But the buildings further away looked a lot more normal.  Many were shops with living quarters above them.

The Ponyville Professional Building was a small, two-story building, white with brown trim.  From the outside, it looked like a number of offices of similar size.  The sign outside indicated that the building housed a dentist, an optometrist, and a chiropractor, among others.  And sure enough, the law practice of Legal Plan was listed as well.

I found Legal Plan’s office, on the second floor, and walked through the door, finding myself in a waiting room.  Along the wall were four chairs, all unoccupied, and two potted plants.  A light blue unicorn mare was seated behind a desk, near another door.  Her horn glowed with a faint yellow radiance; she read from one paper as the quill in her magical grip wrote on another.

The secretary looked up at me, setting her quill down.  “Can I help you?” she asked, looking at me with a curious expression on her face.

I froze.  I hadn’t thought this through.  I was thinking Legal Plan would see me and recognize me, and take the lead.  But it would make sense he could be busy, busy enough to employ a secretary.

“Do you have an appointment?” she continued.

I felt a warm feeling flow over me.  I strode forward and looked her in the eye.  “I have no appointment now.  I have no particular business now, though I expect to have significant dealings with him in the future, as he manages my finances,” I stated confidently.  “I wish to find a time to meet with Legal Plan.  My name is Diamond Tiara.  He knows about my situation, and I’m sure he will understand the reason for my request.”

“Very well.  I will speak with Legal Plan and see about an appointment,” the secretary replied.  She left her desk and walked through the door, and the room fell quiet.  I took a seat and waited, alone with my thoughts.  Speaking to her felt... natural, or if not natural, practiced.  Was it my words, or my tone of voice, that spurred her to action?  Or did she actually know me, or know of me?  Or, just maybe, Legal Plan wasn’t as busy as I first guessed.

Two minutes later, the secretary returned.  “Legal Plan does wish to meet with you, Miss Tiara,” she said.  “He suggests an appointment for Friday.”

”Um, do you have something after school hours?” I asked sheepishly.

After a check of his appointment book, I had a meeting with the lawyer scheduled for four o’clock Friday afternoon.





“You’ve got a letter,” Applejack told me over dinner.  “From the doctor.”

“A checkup?” I wondered.  Sure enough, the envelope contained a simple form, scheduling me for a two-hour appointment Friday morning.  But there was also a personalized letter from Doctor Heart, mentioning that Doctor Mind Spring would be in town that morning, and that this appointment would allow me to speak with him again.

He also mentioned that Muscle Memory would be there.  I was not looking forward to seeing that mare again.

“Why don’t I accompany you to the doctor?” Applejack suggested.  “This time, there’s not any pressing work you have to worry about me missing.”

I nodded.  “Okay.”

Come Friday, our first stop was at the schoolhouse.  Applejack spoke to Miss Cheerilee about excusing my absence for the morning.  Meanwhile, I dropped off my homework with Apple Bloom, so that it could be turned in.

At the hospital, the first thing that struck me was the antiseptic smell.  It brought back bad memories, those feelings of frustration at not being able to do anything.  But seeing Doctor Heart improved my mood.  “I’ll be talking to you later,” he informed me.  “First, the nurse will take you to meet Doctor Mind Spring.”  I nodded, following the nurse.

The scene before me was very familiar.  I was brought to the same room where I had met with Doctor Mind Spring previously, although this time, it was just the two of us.  He was referring to notes collected in his folio.

“Diamond Tiara?  How are you feeling?” he started.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Have you had any success in recovering your lost memories?”

“No, I still can’t remember anything from before waking up in the hospital,” I answered.  “The only thing is....”  I paused.

The doctor leaned forward.  “Yes?”

“I’ve sometimes had feelings.  Impressions.  Maybe, like, déjà vu?”

“Can you give me an example?” he asked.

“I went to school.  On several occasions, I found myself looking over at a particular desk.  The teacher told me my best friend used to sit in that desk.”

“What do you remember about that friend?”

“That’s just it, I can’t remember anything,” I replied, feeling a bit frustrated.  “Miss Cheerilee said her name was Silver Spoon.  I didn’t recognize the name.  I couldn’t remember anything about her.  I couldn’t even tell you if she’s an earth pony, pegasus, or unicorn.”

The room was silent.  “Is there something wrong with me?” I whispered.

“Please don’t feel like there’s something wrong with you,” he replied reassuringly.  “I can comment only on your condition, and cases of long-term amnesia are rare enough that I am largely restricted to speculating.  Perhaps these feelings are in another, less damaged part of your mind.  Or perhaps they are part of the memories you’re trying to unlock.  Tell me, do you have any other impressions like that?”

I thought for a minute.  “There was something, recently.  I was helping with the zap apple harvest.  There was this step, involving wearing costumes and singing while jumping over watering cans.”  Mind Spring raised an eyebrow.  “I know it’s silly.  It’s magic.  It doesn’t have to make sense.  Anyway, even though what I remember now is how silly it was, at the time, I had a really bad reaction.”

“Reaction?  What do you mean?”

“I remember feeling hot.  I started screaming.”

“What were you feeling?”

I thought back to the bad feelings.  Heat.  Feeling flushed.  The eyes of everypony on me.  “I was humiliated.”

“Do you think you were remembering a feeling from your past?”

“I don’t think so.  Apple Bloom said I had done that exercise the previous year.  She described it like I found it to be a chore, one I was only doing because my father was making me.”

Mind Spring scratched out a few notes.  “Apple Bloom described how you acted that day.  Only you would know how you felt,” he stated.

The doctor let that statement sink in for a moment before continuing his interview.  I didn’t have much else to talk about.  The other impressions I recalled experiencing were a lot less vivid.  I wasn’t sure if they were tied to my memories.

The hour ended, and Mind Spring started to put away his notes.  “Will I ever get my memories back?” I asked.

“At this point, it is unlikely.  But the mind is an incredible thing, and we are far from understanding it perfectly.  Recovery is always possible,” he said.

I parsed his statement.  The first part was the answer.  The second part was softening the blow.  “I understand,” I said.

“I’ll be speaking to your doctor and your guardian,” Mind Spring said.  “In the meantime, there’s somepony I’m sure you’re eager to meet.”

The door to the room opened, revealing the muscle-bound figure of the physical therapist, Muscle Memory.  I groaned.





The room with the physical therapy equipment was prepped, but Muscle Memory didn’t direct me to any of them.  Instead, she referred to her own clipboard.

“How do you judge your stamina?” she started.

“I think it’s fine.  I haven’t been doing anything strenuous, but I’m able to walk from the farm to town without feeling tired at all.”

“That’s good,” she replied.  “Have you tried any running?”

“Just a little around the playground.  Nothing formal,” I said, thinking about the Running of the Leaves.

“How about your fine motor skills?”

“I still feel like I need work there,” I said.  “I’ve seen my family do some amazing things with manipulating apples, but that might just be experience.  I still have trouble gripping small items.”

“Strength?”

“Applejack has kept me away from anything tough like that.”  Muscle Memory nodded as I said that.  “I don’t have any way to judge how I’m doing in terms of strength.”

“Well, that’s what all this is for,” she replied, smiling.

“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.  We’re going to start with strength exercises, testing the strength in your legs.  I’ll add weight until you can’t lift anymore.”

Muscle Memory helped me into the machine, securing my front hooves.  After hearing the sound of weights being positioned, she had me pull with my forelegs.  I completed five lifts.  She added more weight, and I tried again.  It took four iterations to find my limit.

I switched positions, getting ready to lift with my hind legs.  However, I couldn’t lift the weight at which Muscle Memory started me out.  A minute later, and I was struggling to lift a smaller mass.  I lifted once, but couldn’t finish all five lifts.

“I think I need more practice,” I said, huffing.  That’s not a bad idea, actually.  “Can someone who’s not a patient use this equipment?” I asked.

“Sorry, but this equipment is only for patients or those undergoing physical therapy,” Muscle Memory replied.  “But there’s a gymnasium in town, with equipment a lot like this.  Look up Snowflake’s Gym.”

I smiled.  But then, Muscle Memory directed me to the treadmill.





After Muscle Memory’s torture, Doctor Heart gave me a normal physical exam.  It didn’t take long.  I realized that other than the recovery from my accident, I had been perfectly healthy, without even one cold.

I was left waiting on the examination table briefly as the doctor departed.  He soon returned with Applejack, who took a seat.

“Let’s talk about the results of your checkup, Diamond Tiara,” Doctor Heart began.  “Your general health is good.  Your accident shouldn’t have any impact on your growth and continued development.”

“That’s good to hear,” Applejack said.

“Doctor Mind Spring found nothing wrong with your current memories.  You should be able to continue your education and function normally, though he cautions against expecting any recovery of your past memories.”

“I asked him about it.  He was pretty clear that I shouldn’t expect a recovery,” I said.

“Finally, Muscle Memory has given me an assessment of your physical recovery.  Stamina is somewhat below average.  Your strength in your forelegs is about 80% of normal for your age, while strength in your hind legs is about 55%.  With work over the next year, you should be able to improve your overall strength and conditioning, but the differential here suggests some degree of permanent damage in your hind legs.”

I stared at my hooves.  The doctor just gave me a sentence.  I wouldn’t be good enough to buck an apple tree.

I felt a strong foreleg pull me into a hug.  “Don’t you fret none,” Applejack said warmly.  “We’ll help you get as strong as you can.”

“I think that’s everything,” Doctor Heart said.  “If you experience any unusual symptoms, or if you recover a significant part of your memories, please contact me right away.  Otherwise, I think we’re good to move to a normal schedule of annual physicals.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Applejack said, shaking his hoof.

“You’re welcome.  Please stop by the receptionist to settle the bill.  And good luck, Diamond Tiara.”





After school, I walked back to the lawyer’s office.  The doctor’s words weighed on my mind.  Weakness, permanent damage in my hind legs.  I didn’t feel anything as I walked.  Was I walking slower?  Was I walking different than other ponies?

I didn’t learn the answer to those questions.  I did learn that trying to watch the movement of one’s hind legs at the same time as one is walking forward is a recipe for tripping and getting a mouth full of dirt.

At the lawyer’s office, Legal Plan’s secretary recognized me, and buzzed me into his office.  Legal Plan was a middle-aged earth pony stallion with a beige coat, his neatly-trimmed dark red mane turning gray near the temples.  He set down his reading glasses and smiled, rising to his hooves.  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised to see such an avuncular pony.

“And a good afternoon to you, Miss Tiara.  Would you like some tea?”

Tea didn’t strike me as appealing, but I did want something to drink, and a warm beverage would counteract the chilly autumn weather.  “Sure,” I replied.

Legal Plan poured two cups of tea from a steaming kettle, placing one in front of me.  “I understand this is a personal meeting?” he asked.  “I do hope you don’t have need for legal services.”

“Yes, it’s mostly personal,” I replied.  “Do you... do you know everything that happened with me?”

“I know about your father’s passing, that you were in a coma, and that you awoke with memory loss, if that’s what you mean.”

I nodded.  “I have lots of questions.  About Barnyard Bargains, about my trust fund, about my future.  But for now, I just want to learn more about my father.  You knew him well?”

“I did.  I’ve provided him advice on both family and business legal matters, and have always been there to give an outsider’s perspective on his ideas.  He loved Barnyard Bargains, and knew everything about it, from how long it takes to sweep the floor to how to introduce the store to a brand new market.  And he was just as passionate about you, Diamond Tiara.  You were the most precious thing in the world to him.”

I just wish I could remember him.  “Did you know the rest of my family?” I asked.

“I knew your mother.  A fine mare with discerning tastes.  She left this world far too soon.  I only knew your grandfather by reputation.”

I frowned.  “What about other family?  I wonder why my father placed me in the care of the Apples, rather than my extended family.”

Legal Plan tapped his hooves together.  “Your mother had one sister, and she spoke highly of her.  But her stories always talked about her adventures in foreign lands.  I think she was a gem hunter of some sort.  So I can understand why she wouldn’t be your guardian.

“I know your father was not in contact with his brother and sister.  I never asked about the rift that drove them apart.  I know he left them nothing in his will.  I wasn’t even able to inform them about the funeral.”

I gasped.  “They don’t know their brother died?”

Legal Plan shook his head.  “They know.  The company announced Filthy Rich’s passing.  They would have heard because they both have a sizable stake in the company, maybe 5% each.”

“That’s kind of... an impersonal way for them to find out.”

“I agree, but it’s not my place to try to fix familial relations.  In any case, Filthy Rich was adamant in having the Apple family serve as your guardian.  And I think that’s the right decision.  I have never met a family so unwilling to spend money that they are free to use.”

It still bothered me that they seemed willing to hurt themselves before taking money out of my trust fund.  But I didn’t have time to worry about that right now.  “What can you tell me about Barnyard Bargains?” I asked.

Legal Plan chuckled.  “I think your father would be proud to hear you ask that question.  I’m afraid I don’t have that much time, however.  Why don’t I give you a copy of the company’s annual report?”  He didn’t wait for my response.  Instead, he pulled something resembling a magazine from the drawer of a filing cabinet, and passed it to me.  “That’s from March of this year.”

I quickly flipped through the annual report.  It looked like it included a summary of the year’s events, biographies of top officers, and tables of numbers.  Financial statements, I remembered.  I suspected my father taught me that, because that didn’t seem like a topic covered in school.

“Really, if you want to learn more about your father’s company, the best place to learn is the store right here in Ponyville,” Legal Plan mentioned.

I nodded.  “I shouldn’t take up any more of your time, Mr. Legal Plan.”

“It was my pleasure.  Would you like to talk again, perhaps once a month?” he offered.

“I would like that very much.  Thank you.”





I read through the annual report several times.  I learned that Barnyard Bargains had been founded just seventy years ago by my great-grandfather, and over the last forty years, had expanded across Equestria.  By all accounts, the business was doing well, with still more room to expand.

Late Saturday evening, I got to learn about another business that was doing well.

I headed downstairs to get a glass of apple juice.  In the kitchen, I saw something I hadn’t seen before.  Big McIntosh was seated at the kitchen table, a pencil in his mouth, the light from the lamp illuminating numerous books and papers.

“What are you working on?” I asked.

“I’m doing the books,” he replied.

“Could you teach me?”

“I reckon I could,” Big McIntosh replied.  “I suspect you’d be able to pick this up quickly.”  He slid over a ledger, with a long list of transactions, dated and with numbers in two columns.

“It’s a simple single-entry bookkeeping system,” I said.

“Eeyup.  We don’t need anything fancier here.  Pa taught me all about it when I was about your age.”

I saw a very large number in the October entry.  “That’s cider sales?” I asked.  Big McIntosh nodded.

I compared the income to the costs incurred that month.  “That’s a lot of profit.”

“Eeyup.  And once I tally up all these bills, you’ll see something similar from zap apple jam sales,” Big McIntosh said.  “But we need that money.  Take a look at the beginning of the year, Diamond Tiara.”

January, February, March... it looked like the farm had very little income.  On the other side of the ledger, there were regular outgoes, and then, one huge number.  “Tax?”

“Gotta pay taxes on the land every year,” Big McIntosh said, chewing on his pencil.

As Big McIntosh summarized numbers from the various receipts in front of him, I continued to review the farm’s finances.  Starting in spring and lasting until fall, apple sales provided a fairly constant income, though the varietals changed with the seasons.  Then I noticed a number of paired entries starting in May.  A quick check of the previous year showed these entries were new.

“That’s for me, isn’t it?”

Big McIntosh checked the entries my hoof was pointing to.  “Eeyup.  We had to pay the hospital, and then when you woke up, we needed to get you set up here.”

The books showed the funds coming in, from my trust fund, matched the funds outgoing, paying these bills, to the bit.

“Would you pass the ledger here, Diamond Tiara?” Big McIntosh asked.  I complied.

I watched as Big McIntosh started writing new entries into the ledger.  The quiet was interrupted when he spoke.  “Apple Bloom said she found you touching her ribbon.”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“It made her upset.”  Big McIntosh spoke in a very even tone, very matter-of-fact, but it was perfectly clear to me that this was a lecture.

“I just wanted to see if I could tie the ribbon in a bow.  And I was wondering how I would look.”  Big McIntosh raised an eyebrow at my excuses.  “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the pony you should be apologizing to.  Do you know why the ribbon means so much to Apple Bloom?”

“No.”

“It’s just a normal ribbon, one you could buy in the store.  But it was her mother’s ribbon.  Apple Bloom was very young when she passed, too young to have memories of her.  The ribbon is all she has to remember her mother.”

I hung my head.

“Next time, promise you’ll ask.”

I lifted my head.  Big McIntosh continued.  “I’m sure Apple Bloom would let you try out her ribbon if you just asked.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“Now you need to run off to bed, little filly,” Big McIntosh ordered.  “Sweet dreams, and always remember what’s important.”

I did need to apologize to Apple Bloom.  While the balance sheet is important, Big McIntosh reminded me of the importance of accounting for everything.

> Chapter 12: Work
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 12: Work





“Come on, Diamond Tiara.  Applejack wants us to pick up some items from the store before we go home.”

Some items?  Apple Bloom had placed a rather long list on her desk.  Shrugging, I loaded my schoolbooks into my saddlebags and got ready to leave school.  Apple Bloom followed.

We walked down the quiet streets of Ponyville, with only the whistling of the wind and the jingle of coins in Apple Bloom’s saddlebags filling our ears.  Although she just said “store,” the length of the list meant there was only one place we would be going.

Barnyard Bargains.  My father’s store.  Or, rather, my store.

Although the store seemed to have everything, save for fresh produce, my family didn’t shop there much.  I think Applejack and Big McIntosh preferred the personal interactions with their fellow sellers in the outdoor marketplace.  And I noticed we reused a lot on the farm.

I then realized this would be my first trip to the store since learning it was my father’s legacy.  Barnyard Bargains was the first place I experienced a brief moment of familiarity, but after not recovering any memories on several subsequent trips, I hadn’t visited the store again.

Barnyard Bargains looked busier than it had on my previous visits.  The wide variety of goods was still there, but decorations and gifts were more prominently featured.  Hearth’s Warming was next month, and Barnyard Bargains was already into the holiday season.

“So what are we looking for?” I asked.

Apple Bloom pulled out the list again.  “Salt, vinegar, alum, dried garlic... it looks like we’ll be canning and pickling.  There’s also glue, nails, and some other hardware stuff.”

“Do you want to split up the list?” I offered.

“Sure.  Let me get the hardware.  You can keep the list; I think I can remember what I need,” Apple Bloom replied.

I nodded, taking the shopping list from Apple Bloom and dropping it in one of the store’s baskets, which I took in my mouth.  It didn’t take me long to find what I needed.  The salt and spices were in the same aisle.  One large box of salt was followed by smaller spice bottles.  The alum, unfortunately, was on the top shelf, and set a distance back.  I stretched, supporting myself with the hoof of my left foreleg on the second shelf as I reached with my right foreleg.

Then, I found myself flat on the ground.  My rear hooves had slipped, and I landed on my stomach, followed by several of the spice bottles.

I felt a pair of hooves around my barrel as somepony helped me stand up.  Judging by the vest he wore, the young stallion was one of the store’s employees.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

I lifted each limb in turn, feeling no pain.  “I’m okay,” I said, and started to put away the spilled bottles.

The employee also got to work cleaning up the spill.  “Do you need help getting something off the top shelf?” he asked.

“Yeah, I was trying to get...” I started, and then noticed the bottle I was trying to reach had landed in my basket.  “Looks like I got it.”

“Please let an employee know if you need any assistance,” he said.

I picked up my basket and looked at the shelf.  The three shelf structure was utilitarian, but with these smaller bottles, it left a lot of space wasted.  I thought about the spice rack in my kitchen in home.  Wouldn’t a bigger version of that spice rack be a better way to hold the spice bottles?

It would also be eye-catching if placed at the end of the aisle.

My supplies acquired, I rejoined Apple Bloom, and we paid for our goods.  As I walked out, I noticed a sign by the front door.  I walked home with a smile and an idea in my head.





“You want to do what?” Applejack said incredulously.

The two of us were alone.  I had found Applejack working in the barn, and was glad to talk to her in private.

“There was a sign in Barnyard Bargains: Seasonal Help Wanted,” I said.  “I want to work there, and learn more about how the store works.”

Applejack scratched her head.  “I think your father would have approved of your sentiment.  But you’re a little too young to work, aren’t you?”

“Too young to work on a farm?”

“That’s different,” Applejack replied, though she didn’t specify exactly how it was different.

“The holidays are coming up, and I have this gift idea for Apple Bloom, but I’ll need money,” I explained.

“Shoot, you don’t need to get anypony anything fancy,” Applejack said.  “Why don’t you try making something?”

“It’s not something fancy, but I really can’t get it without money.  I’d like to keep it a secret.  It’s... something I want us to do together,” I said.  “And I do want to learn about Barnyard Bargains.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Applejack replied.  “I’ll head to Town Hall.  I think there’s some kind of form I’ll need to sign for you.  And even though you’re Diamond Tiara, there’s no guarantee the store will hire you.”

“Okay.”

“And if you do get hired, you’re still going to have to do your chores.”

I nodded.  “I can accept that.”





The next afternoon, when Apple Bloom and I returned home, Applejack passed me a paper, the size of a normal sheet of paper folded in half.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s your work permit,” Applejack replied.  “You need it if you’re going to get hired anywhere.  And at your age, there are some pretty severe restrictions on working.  Three hours on weekdays, six hours on weekends, twenty hours a week, and no working past 9:00 PM.”

Applejack stared at both of us.  “That doesn’t apply to farm work, I’ll have you know, so don’t go getting any funny ideas,” she warned.

As Applejack departed, Apple Bloom said, “So what’s that all about?”

I headed up to our room, Apple Bloom following.  “I thought I’d try working at Barnyard Bargains,” I said quietly.

“Why would you want to do that?”

I held my tongue until we were in our room.  “Did Applejack say anything about my last doctor’s appointment?” I asked.

“No,” she replied.

“You know how you’re trying to buck apples?”

“Yeah, I’m learning the technique, but Applejack doesn’t want me to join her until I’m bigger and stronger.”

“I might never be as strong as you are right now,” I admitted.  “I might never be strong enough to contribute my fair share.”

“Aw, shucks, you don’t have to worry about that,” Apple Bloom said.  “We’ll still support you.”

Support.  The idea made me wince.  I didn’t want to be supported.  I wanted to be the one supporting others.

“Applejack said something to me once.  She said my special talent would probably have me running Barnyard Bargains one day.  So I want to work there.”

Apple Bloom stared at me before raising her hoof to her mouth, desperately trying to stifle a laugh.

“What?” I demanded.

“Sorry, I’m just picturing you in one of those silly vests,” she replied, before abandoning her attempts to keep quiet.  She fell backwards on her bed, guffawing.

I turned red, but I couldn’t help but smile.  Those vests did look silly.





The next afternoon, I headed to Barnyard Bargains after school.  I wasn’t sure where to go once I got there.  Fortunately, I noticed the stallion who had helped me up when I had fallen during my previous trip.

He smiled as I approached.  “Can I help you?”

“Who do I talk to about that ‘seasonal help wanted’ sign?”

The stallion raised an eyebrow.  I could feel him appraising me.  I know I was young, but I hoped my willingness to clean up after myself had made a good impression.

“That would be the manager.  Let me take you to her.”

The store employee took me to the back of the store, through a pair of wide swinging doors.  The back of the store appeared to be a warehouse.  It lacked the tile and carpet of the store area, and was not decorated, just a concrete floor and utilitarian shelves laden with wrapped goods.  With a turn to the right, he took me to a normal-sized door, the entrance to a small office built into this space.

Inside I found a middle-aged earth pony mare.  “How can I help you, young filly?” she asked.

“Actually, I was hoping I could help you,” I said.  She raised an eyebrow.  “I saw your sign, looking for seasonal help, and I’d like to apply.  I have my worker’s permit,” I said, passing it to the store manager.

“Let me thank you for your interest, but....” The mare’s voice trailed off.  I think she saw my name, printed on the worker’s permit.

“I was about to say, this isn’t the store for a filly like you to gain work experience.  But in your case, I’ll make an exception,” the manager said.  “But if you’re talking about working after school, the only position that will fit your availability is in stocking.  Are you willing to work there?”

“Well, I do want to learn every aspect of Barnyard Bargains.  I can’t see why I wouldn’t want to start in stocking,” I said.

“Okay,” she replied.  “Now, let me warn you, Miss Tiara.  I won’t tolerate any slacking, and nopony may insult a customer.  If you do, I don’t care what your name is.  You’ll be gone.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding.

“Then welcome aboard.  I’m Fine Time, store manager and your new boss.”





“Okay, Diamond Tiara.  Barnyard Bargains primarily receives shipments twice a day.  The larger portion comes in the morning, off the overnight trains, but a smaller yet still significant portion of the day’s shipments arrives in the early afternoon,” Fine Time explained.  “That second shipment is why we hire ponies like you for the afternoon shift.”

I thought for a moment.  “The overnight and afternoon trains must have the lowest passenger counts.  That puts Barnyard Bargains in a position of strength when negotiating rates for the use of the railways for those shipments.

“Huh.  That makes sense,” Fine Time said.  “In any case, these shipments arrive between 1:00 and 3:00 in the afternoon.  Your job is to first store any shipments still in the loading dock, and only then restock the shelves for the evening shoppers.  Do you think you can handle that?”

“I can,” I responded.

Before I started my first day of work, I had to watch a film.  It reinforced the lesson that each customer interaction should end with a positive result.  If I didn’t know how to help, or wasn’t in a position to help, my primary goal would be to point the customer to somepony who could help him.

It wasn’t a lesson that came up much.  My first few days, proudly wearing my Barnyard Bargains vest, I spent all my time restocking shelves.  I probably answered three customer queries, pointing them to where they wanted to go in the store.

I think that was knowledge I picked up from before my accident.





“Everypony on the 2:00 and 4:00 shifts, please report to a meeting at 4:15 PM.”

That was new.  I was curious to see what the big news was.

Around ten ponies gathered outside the manager’s office at the appointed time.  The manager held a small bowl in her hoof, the bowl containing something that looked for all the world like glass beads.

“Everypony, these are Rainy Mountain Rain Drops.  They’re a magical candy made with rainwater from the clouds surrounding Rainy Mountain, near Seaddle, and Barnyard Bargains is the exclusive seller here in Ponyville,” Fine Time said.  “I want each of you to try the candy, so when a customer asks about it, you can give them your opinion.”

The bowl of candies was passed around the staff.  I inspected my candy.  It looked a lot like a clear glass marble, identical to each of the candies in the bowl.  After seeing my manager pop the candy into her mouth, I followed suit.

The predominant flavor of this magic candy was simple sugar.  It was like sucking a piece of unflavored rock candy.  There was one difference, however.  The small candy seemed to shed an impossible amount of water, almost as if I were lying on my back, mouth open, as a torrential rain fell.

Finally, the sugar candy popped, filling my mouth with a potent flavor.  My eyes opened wide.  Looking around, I see I wasn’t alone in experiencing this surprise.

“Okay, everypony, what did you just taste?” Fine Time asked.

“Raspberry!” I volunteered.

Around me, I heard a number of differing opinions.  Cherry.  Spearmint.  Bubble gum.  Apple.  Peppermint.  We looked at each other as we tried to understand what had just happened.”

“That’s right, everypony.  Rainy Mountain Rain Drops are made with the magical rain of the untamed Rainy Mountain.  You start with the flavor of cane sugar and fresh rain, and at each candy’s center there’s a surprise flavor!  There’ll be a prominent display in our store, and I expect each of you to be able to tell our customers all about this incredible candy!”

Fine Time turned to a young stallion, an associate from the clothing department.  “Hey, mister, what’s that candy?” she said, her raised voice making her sound like a typical customer.

“Well, ma’am,” the stallion replied hesitantly.  “I’m glad you asked, ma’am.  That’s Rainy Mountain Rain Drops, a wonderful candy out of Seaddle!  If you like sweet candy with a surprise center, you’ll love these!”

“Excellent job, Stocker,” Fine Time said.  “You all better be as good!”

The new candy did attract a lot of attention.  As the day progressed, the pile of candy dwindled, and I needed to restock the display near the end of my three hour shift.  I wanted to pick up a bag before the store ran out.

Fortunately, today was payday.  My first payday.

I joined three other ponies in line outside the manager’s office.  A while later, the manager placed a small bag of bits in my hoof.  The pleasant heft of the gold coins and the little clinks they made as the bag shifted brought a smile to my face.  I trotted to my locker, first stowing the coins in my saddlebag.  Then I removed my vest, carefully folding it before placing it in my saddlebags.  Finally, I entered the store proper, this time as a customer.  Ten minutes later, I walked out with my pay, and with the first product I had ever bought with money I earned.





Mindful of the doctor’s assessment of my recovery, I galloped home.  I wanted to maintain this fast pace for as long as possible, hopefully building my endurance.

Plus, I was hungry.  That one rain drop candy was the only thing I had eaten since lunch, and picking up my pay and buying the candy had taken longer than I expected.

It was nearly eight o’clock and very dark by the time I returned home.  The path from the gate of Sweet Apple Acres to the farmhouse was one of the most familiar things to me by now, and I had no problem finding my way home.

Dinner for me was a cold sandwich and slice of pie.  We all had been eating a lot of sandwiches, because the stove was constantly in use canning foods and making preserves.  I was originally worried that my work at Barnyard Bargains was keeping me from work I should be doing on the farm, work that I was physically capable of doing.  But watching my busy family showed me I had nothing to worry about.  The amount of work that could be done was limited by the size of the kitchen and stove.  Unlike most else on the farm, having more hooves wasn’t going to help the canning get done faster.

During a lull in the canning, I brought down my gift.  “What do you have there?” Granny Smith asked.

“It’s a magical candy called Rainy Mountain Rain Drops.  Barnyard Bargains just got them in.  They’re really good!”

“Well, what are they?” Applejack wondered.

Rather than give the standard spiel, I just referred to it as a sugar candy.  “But from what I learned about how it was made, and with the different flavors the candy has, it reminds me a lot of zap apple jam.”

“Now that’s worth trying!” Granny Smith said excitedly.

Everypony took one candy.  I smiled as they each sucked on the sugary shell, knowing the surprise that would come.  As each pony’s eyes opened wider, I knew they had reached the flavored center.

“So what flavors did you all get?” I asked.

“Cinnamon,” Big McIntosh answered.

“Mint,” said Apple Bloom.

“Tart cherry,” Granny Smith replied.

Applejack had a sour look on her face.  “Mine was apple, but I’d never sell an apple tasting like that.”

“Well, I guess you don’t have to worry about competition from that family!” I said.





That evening, I looked at the nearly depleted bag of candy.  “There’s only three left.  I can give one to Scootaloo, and one to Sweetie Belle, but leaves one unaccounted for,” I said.

“You should have it,” Apple Bloom said.  “After all, you did work for it!”

“Actually, I’d like you to have it, if you can forgive me for touching your ribbon without asking.”

“Aw, shoot, you don’t have to feel bad about that,” she replied.  “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”  She raised a hoof to her chin in thought, before smirking.  “How about we make us even instead?”

“Okay,” I replied, unsure what she was planning.

Apple Bloom went over to my dresser and pulled something off of it.  Before I knew what happened, I saw her wearing my vest from Barnyard Bargains.

“Well, howdy, and welcome to Barnyard Bargains!” she said with an unnatural smile on her face.  “How’d I do?”

I groaned.  As much as I loved working at Barnyard Bargains, I hoped I’d never have to be the pony greeting each customer.

> Chapter 13: Holidays
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 13: Holidays





December saw decorations grow omnipresent across Ponyville.  Barnyard Bargains looked busier and busier.  But for me, the holidays didn’t hit home until Applejack spoke to me, away from everypony else.

“Do you know when your seasonal work will be over?” she asked.

“I haven’t talked to the manager specifically, but I understand nopony will stay on after the first Sunday in the new year,” I replied.

“Well, you’ll want to make your end date no later than December 29,” Applejack said.  She was trying to conceal a smile.

I don’t know what she was planning, but I was looking forward to it.  I was curious, but it’s only fair that I was left guessing.  I still hadn’t told her about my planned gift for Apple Bloom.





Ever since I started working at Barnyard Bargains, the days had been passing in a blur.  School continued as normal, but with the knowledge we’d have end of semester exams just before the break for Hearth’s Warming.  At home, myriad preparations for the winter met the need for long-delayed maintenance projects.  And after every work shift, I felt worn out.

On the first weekend in December, where home, school, and work demands finally allowed me a day off, I was roped into another crusade idea.  As I rode in the wagon with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, I realized it had been weeks since we last got together.

“Do you really think we could be Cutie Mark Crusader candy cane makers?” I asked as we arrived at the door of a small shop.

“We had bad experiences with the taffy machine, but making candy canes should be safer,” Sweetie Belle observed.

“Besides, even if we don’t get cutie marks, we’ll still get candy!” Scootaloo said enthusiastically.

I couldn’t argue with that.

Apple Bloom knocked, and the door was soon opened by one of the fillies in my class.  “Hi, Apple Bloom!  I’m so glad you could come today!”  The poofy red mane and thick glasses were distinctive, but as soon as she spoke, with her lisp rendering “so” into “tho”, I remembered this filly was Twist.

“Yeah, let’s get to the candy!” Sweetie Belle said enthusiastically.

“Follow me to the kitchen,” Twist said.

We stood in Twist’s kitchen.  It wasn’t as large as the one in Sugarcube Corner, but it was larger than the one at home.  A central island was covered with four slick-looking... place mats, I’ll call them, for lack of a better term.  There were dozens of small bottles of all colors at the center of the island, and of course large bags of sugar on the counter.

“Now before we touch anything in the kitchen, we need to talk safety,” Twist lectured.  Scootaloo groaned.  “I’m super serious.  We’re going to be cooking sugar to above 300 degrees, and that’s hot enough to burn your hooves.  And if you get it in your coat, it will remove the hair and burn the skin underneath.”  I winced, and looked at my friends.  We all looked a little uncomfortable upon hearing that warning.

“Before you touch the hot sugar, make sure you’re wearing these,” Twist said, motioning to the counter.  She had these little hoof coverings there, made of the same slick material.  “It’s a magical fabric that will protect you from the heat, and also, the sugar doesn’t stick to it!”

“Is the same material used for these mats?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” Twist said, nodding.  “Now, let’s get started!   First, we need five cups of sugar.”

There were lots of measuring cups, so we all got to work.  Twist monitored us.

“No, it has to be exactly five cups!” she warned, stopping Scootaloo from adding a sloppy cup to the pot on the stove.  “This isn’t like baking, where you’d just get a less sweet cake.  The measurements have to be perfect!”

After collecting the sugar, Twist placed water, one cup plus two tablespoons, in a separate bowl.  Twist then opened a bottle and measured out three tablespoons of liquid into the bowl.

Apple Bloom wrinkled her nose.  “Vinegar?  I’ve had enough of that for the year.”

“Isn’t that going to make the candy sour?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“The vinegar provides the acid needed for making the sugar candy.  You won’t taste it,” Twist replied.

I don’t think anypony was convinced, but it makes sense to trust the pony with the special talent of making sugar candy.  She added the vinegar to the pot, placed a thermometer in it, and turned on the stove.

“Now what?” Scootaloo asked.

“We wait,” Twist said.  “The sugar has to get to 320 degrees.  If you see any sugar crystals on the side of the pan, dip this brush in water and brush the side of the pan.”  In response to our flat expressions, Twist pointed to the center of the island.  “While we wait, why don’t you check out the colors and flavors?”

“Oil of peppermint?  I didn’t know there was peppermint oil!” Sweetie Belle said.

“I like this cinnamon,” Scootaloo said.

“Pineapple extract?  What kind of apple is a pineapple?” Apple Bloom wondered.

“That’s a different fruit,” I said.  “It’s, ah....”  I remembered the taste of pineapple.  The thought of pineapple made my mouth water.  But I realized I had no way of describing what it tasted like.  “It’s nothing like an apple,” I said.

“Oh,” Apple Bloom replied, disappointed.

Twist watched us as we monitored the pot.  Her directions were clear, and we soon had a molten glob of sugar.

“I’ll demonstrate mixing the candy,” Twist said.  She poured some of the sugar mixture onto one of the mats, and placed the pot with the remaining sugar in the oven, to keep it warm.  Donning the hoof protectors, she assessed the liquid candy.

“Pour just a little of whichever coloring and flavoring you want, and then stir with those wooden sticks.  I’m going to make my famous candy canes!”  Twist started by measuring a small amount of the peppermint oil, and added it to the mixture before stirring.  Once satisfied, she used a large knife to divide the mixture in two, and then added red food coloring to one, stirring until the color was distributed.

“Once the mixture cools a little, it becomes pliable.  Now watch this!”  Twist started with the white candy, using the edge of the mat to roll the candy into a thin cylinder.  She did the same with the red candy, placing the resulting candy next to its white counterpart.

“And now, a twist!”  Holding one end of the candy, she twisted, forming a tight braid of red and white.  After a brief rolling, she had a familiar-looking striped candy.  Finally, she cut the candy into eight pieces, and used a wooden dowel to shape one end, creating candy canes resembling the ones on her flank.

“Is that the recipe that got you your cutie mark?” I asked.

“Uh huh!” she replied cheerily.  “Now, why don’t you give it a try?”  Twist replaced the used mat, and carefully poured the remaining sugar mixture onto the four mats.

I decided to try making pineapple candy, adding a similar amount of that extract to my candy, followed by the yellow food coloring.  I used a little too much, getting a darker yellow than I had envisioned.

“What shape of candy do you want to make?” Twist asked me.

“Ummm....”  I hesitated.  I hadn’t thought about that, so I just said “Normal shape.  You know, little discs?”

“Okay, then what you’ll want to do is roll your candy into a thicker cylinder, then cut lozenges.  If you want to round the edges, just press down gently with the frog of your hoof, then flip and repeat.”  Twist then went to help one of my friends.

“Isn’t that a bit ambitious?” Twist asked Scootaloo.  I glanced up, seeing the pegasus had divided her candy into six sections, and had all the bottles of food coloring next to her.  Noticing my candy had reached the consistency where Twist had started shaping it, I turned to complete my work.

Sticking to a candy with one color and one flavor meant my candy should be hard to mess up.  I started rolling it out.  Even through the mat and the hoof coverings, I felt the heat of the candy, so I was glad for the protection.  Soon I had a thick sugary log, which I cut into lozenges.  Then, following Twist’s instructions, I pressed down on each one.  The sensation reminded me of stepping on a large pebble.

Once I finished creating my candy, I left the twenty or so disks to cool.  Apple Bloom had created green stick candy with spearmint oil.  Sweetie Belle’s candy canes looked a little misshapen.  And Scootaloo, apparently, had tried to make rainbow-colored candy.  It didn’t look very good.

Twist gave a final inspection to our work.  “Now, the candy needs to cool.  So let’s play some games!”

We followed Twist into her living room.  She searched a closet, muttering something about finding a game that’s good for five ponies.  Finally, she took a bag to the dining room table, spilling a bunch of coins onto it.  The coins featured a blank, flat side, and a rounded one with pictures of historically important ponies.

“This one’s simple.  Each of the coins has one blank side and one side with a picture.  You’re trying to get all the coins with one of the pictures.  So what you do is trade coins with somepony else.  Just say one, two, or three, and trade that same number of coins, all with the same picture.  Smack the table when you’re done.  But you don’t want to get caught with the Discord or Nightmare Moon coin!  Oh, and those coins are wild, so they can be combined with any trade.”

We worked to turn all the coins over, the pictures concealed.  I noticed that by pressing one edge of the coin, the coin pivoted, making it easy to see what the picture was.

The coins were shuffled and dealt.  I already had three Clover the Clevers, so I thought I’d try for that set.

“Begin!” Twist called.

The table devolved into a cacophony of ones, twos and threes.  My hooves slid coins across the table continuously.  A very short time later, I slammed my hoof on the table.  “I won!” I yelled.  The others were disappointed as I turned over my eight Clovers.

We played four more games, and I won two of those.  Winning was definitely the best, but sticking Apple Bloom with the Nightmare Moon coin three times in a row was also fun.

“Now, the candy should be cool,” Twist mentioned.

Oh, yeah.  I was having so much fun that I forgot why we were here in the first place!

Twist bid us farewell, sending us home with bags of candy.  Of course, we couldn’t separate before trading candy.  We each got one of Apple Bloom’s spearmint sticks, one of Sweetie Belle’s candy canes, and two pieces from me and Scootaloo, keeping the bulk of the candy we each had made.

Sweetie Belle assessed the mess that was Scootaloo’s candy.  “This looks like an explosion in a stained glass workshop!”

“Okay, so I didn’t get the cool rainbow effect.  But I’m sure it tastes good,” she retorted.

We all tried one piece.  It was cinnamon.  Very cinnamon.  The candy almost felt like it was burning my tongue.  I liked the intense flavor, but decided eating more than one piece would probably be a mistake.  Judging by the expressions of my friends, they agreed with me.  Scootaloo was unfazed, though, happily eating a second piece.

“I’m just glad to get some candy,” Sweetie Belle said.  She tucked her bag under her mane.

“Why are you hiding your candy?” I asked.

“Mom doesn’t like me eating too much candy.  Rarity says the same thing, though I see her sneaking those little wrapped candies from Bon Bon’s all the time!” Sweetie Belle explained.

“Can’t be helped,” Apple Bloom said.  “Applejack doesn’t watch what we eat, because she knows we’ll work it off on the farm!”

Some, more than others.





Later in the month, I found Apple Bloom in the barn.  She had a number of woodworking tools scattered on the workbench, and appeared to be assembling some sort of small chest.

“What are you working on?” I asked.

“It’s a gift for Sweetie Belle.  How does it look?”

I examined the chest.  The worksponyship was quite good, as good as the furniture in the farmhouse.  “I like it,” I said.

“And check this out!”  Apple Bloom pressed her hoof along the back corner of the chest.  I saw the bottom of the chest’s interior pop up.  I did not notice that false bottom!

“And now Sweetie Belle can hide her diary,” Apple Bloom said.

“That’s a problem for her?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Apple Bloom answered.  “She’s suspicious of her mother, but maybe she’s overreacting.  I don’t know.  Still, I thought that would be good project to make, to test my skills.”

“It looks like a great gift,” I said, then paused.  “Speaking of gifts, I really don’t know what to get for Applejack or Big McIntosh or Granny Smith.”

“It doesn’t have to be much,” Apple Bloom replied.  “It can be something you made.”

“I’m not skilled at making anything like you are,” I said.  “I’ve saved some money from my job.  If I wanted to buy a gift, what would be good?”

Apple Bloom thought for a moment.  “You know, we’re not very good about replacing old things.  Like that old broom in our closet.  The new broom is so much better, but it took us a long time to buy it.  Try looking around the farm, and see if you get any ideas.”

I smiled.  “Thanks for your help, Apple Bloom.”





There is just something special about the holidays.  Evergreen boughs, symbolic of the friendship that survived through the worst efforts of the Windigoes.  Red and green ribbons, a festive decoration.  And, of course, a pile of presents, wrapped, just waiting to be open.  I don’t know what holiday traditions I used to observe, but this all felt right.

On Hearth’s Warming Eve, we spent the day indoors, avoiding the fresh blanket of snow on the ground outside.  The smell of apple pies baking filled the air.  But before we could think about dinner, Applejack escorted Apple Bloom and me into the kitchen.

“There’s one present we always open early,” Applejack said, placing a bag on the counter.  It contained spices and orange peel.

I had seen this product on the shelves at Barnyard Bargains.  It was a very strong seller over the last week.  “Mulling spices,” I said.

“It’s from Aunt and Uncle Orange!” Apple Bloom said excitedly.

“That’s right.  It’s a way to bring their side of the family to ours for the holiday.  And I want you to make the mulled cider together,” Applejack said.

Apple Bloom was eager to get started.  I watched as Applejack departed.  There was something about her smirk.  Was she planning something?

It turns out making mulled cider wasn’t anything difficult.  We filled a large pot on the stove with cider, reserved for the season, and added the mulling spices.

The smell of the spices was familiar.  “I wonder if the Oranges are the ponies who make the mulling spices sold at Barnyard Bargains,” I mused.

“Maybe, but this is special,” Apple Bloom said.  “The orange peel is hoof-selected from the best oranges from their groves.”

The pot was boiling, and the smell of the mulled cider was beginning to fill the kitchen.  “I don’t think I can disagree.”

Soon after the cider was finished, Granny Smith pushed us out of the kitchen.  Apparently, putting together the meal for Hearth’s Warming Eve was her job, and nopony had better interrupt her!

I didn’t mind, because that placed me in the living room with the three Apple siblings, enjoying a roaring fire and mugs of mulled cider.  Applejack pulled out some family photo albums, introducing me to members of the very large Apple family, each picture spawning a story.  Before I knew it, Granny Smith called us in for dinner.

My eyes were drawn to the baked pumpkin at the center of the table.  Granny Smith dipped a ladle into the pumpkin, pulling out a delicious-looking stew.  Once it was served, I eagerly dived in.  The spicy stew of apples, pumpkin, potatoes, and onions was delicious, a flavor profile I had never tasted before.  That’s not to mention the fresh bread with sweetened cinnamon butter, the gingerbread cookies, and the apple pie.

After cleaning the kitchen, we gathered around the fire, all five of us together for the first time that day.  I eyed the presents, but first, Big McIntosh took a book in hoof, worn but lovingly cared for.  With the first words, I recognized the familiar tale of The Dawn of Harmony.  I knew the story.  Everypony knows the story.  I focused on my thoughts.

Attributed to the writer Sweet Clementine.  The most well-known example of anapestic tetrameter.  Responsible for the popular depiction of many historical figures, particularly Clover the Clever.

Facts.  I wanted to remember something more than lessons from a book.

Big McIntosh’s deep voice was surprisingly lyrical.  He should speak more often.  I tried to feel the words, feel their spirit.

Warmth.  Comfort.  Love.

Those wonderful feelings.  I opened my eyes, not realizing I had closed them.  I looked around; it seemed like everypony was feeling the same thing.

I’m sure I felt these feelings before.

I felt a box being pressed into my hooves.  It was time to open presents!

My first gift was a very practical one.  “Thanks for the new jacket,” I said.  It was getting a bit cold to go out without one.

“The one you used to have looked a mite small,” Applejack said.

I watched as she opened the gift I got her, a new pitchfork.  “I did need one of these.  Thanks, Diamond Tiara.”

Granny Smith had nodded off, but the photo album I had bought her should help her to organize all the loose photos from the last family reunion.

Big McIntosh opened the large box with my gift for him.  He pulled out a new yoke.  “You didn’t need to go to all that trouble.  I was fine with the one I had,” he said.

“Its lightweight but sturdy metal construction will do the same job as your old yoke, but with greater comfort,” I said.  I was repeating something I had said to a customer at Barnyard Bargains not more than a week ago.  “And this will let Applejack work alongside you.”

Big McIntosh smirked.  Applejack frowned.  It looks like I was correct when I guessed that she didn’t care for plow work.  At the same time, I knew she couldn’t say no if asked, though.  I wondered how the spring’s chores might play out.

I made sure my last gift to be opened was the one I got for Apple Bloom.  I passed her a simple envelope, and kept a similar envelope in my hooves.  She opened it, and was quite surprised at what was inside.

A three month membership at Snowflake’s gymnasium.

I pulled the card out of my envelope and placed it next to hers.  “This is the main reason I worked,” I explained.  “If I’m going to get stronger, I need to work out at the gym.  Apple Bloom, I want you to come and urge me on.  And I want you to get so strong that there’s no way Applejack will be able to keep you out of the orchard next year.”

Apple Bloom’s confused expression was replaced by a huge smile, and she jumped up and hugged me.  “Thanks, Diamond Tiara!  That’s the best gift ever!”  Over my shoulder, I caught Applejack nodding and smiling.

“Uh, I hope you like my gift,” Apple Bloom said, passing me a heavy box.  I unwrapped it, finding a decorative wooden box.  It looked a little like Sweetie Belle’s chest, but smaller and more artistic.  I surmised she had crafted it during the many days I was working at Barnyard Bargains.

I opened the box, finding a lining of rich purple velvet.  “I made it for your tiara,” Apple Bloom said.  “It’s too important to just leave on the top of the dresser.”

I can’t imagine my tiara held any good memories for Apple Bloom, yet she made this anyway.  I hugged her again, closing my eyes to conceal the wetness that threatened to spill out.   “Thank you,” I whispered.

The excitement of the gift exchange wasn’t enough to forestall the tiredness I felt.  I didn’t protest as Applejack urged us to get to bed.

Soon, I was buried under my blankets and quilt.  “And the best part is we get more gifts tomorrow!” I whispered to Apple Bloom.  We had a special gift exchange tomorrow, just for us Crusaders.

“So what did you get Scootaloo?” she asked.  She already knew of my gift for Sweetie Belle, an assortment of candy, because it was concealed in the secret compartment of the chest she had made.

“I found some multicolored wagon wheels at Barnyard Bargains.  I thought they’d make the wagon look nice.”

“I bet she’ll like that,” Apple Bloom said.





We briefly considered exchanging gifts in the clubhouse, but opening the door to admit Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle made us agree that the weather outside was not fit for anypony.  The other two Crusaders took a seat near the fire and brought out their gifts.

Scootaloo looked embarrassed as she passed me a lumpy wrapped gift, with something soft inside.  I opened it to reveal a knitted scarf.  Its red and purple pattern looked like it would complement my mane and coat.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Scootaloo’s ma makes those for all her friends,” Apple Bloom explained.  Now that she mentioned it, I had seen Apple Bloom wear a very similar scarf.

In turn, Scootaloo thought my wheels were cool, and the gear assembly Apple Bloom gave her caused the two of them to exchange knowing looks.  Sweetie Belle’s gift was off theme, a board game.

“Hope I can get some play out of this one before my brothers destroy it,” Scootaloo commented.

Sweetie Belle loved the chest Apple Bloom made for her, and smiled at seeing the sweet treasure I had added to it.  She stowed Scootaloo’s gift, a journal, inside.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle both gave Apple Bloom tools.  I didn’t know what they did, but Apple Bloom replied that they were just what she was looking for.

Finally, I opened Sweetie Belle’s gift for me.  From its box, I pulled out a violet mane ribbon.

“Rarity helped me pick out the best color for you,” Sweetie Belle said.

I noticed Apple Bloom smiling at her.  I guessed she had suggested that particular gift to Sweetie Belle, all based on a comment I made a while ago.

Applejack trotted into the room, smiling.  “And I have a special gift for all of you,” she said, an envelope for each of us in her mouth.

None of us were expecting this gift, and the train ticket inside the envelope was similarly unexpected.

“You’re all coming with me to Manehattan!” Applejack announced.  “We’re going to pay a visit to the Oranges, and then we’ll spend four days with the Seeds.”

The others started bouncing up and down.  “We get to see Babs again!” Apple Bloom cheered.

“And just think of all the crusading we can do in the big city!” Scootaloo said.

I remembered seeing both of these families in the Apple family photo albums, but I couldn’t remember Babs.  Still, the enthusiasm was infectious.

“Now, both of your parents know about this, and I take it from your reaction that they kept it a secret,” Applejack said to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, who nodded in reply.  I glanced at the departure date on my ticket, December 30.  Suddenly, Applejack’s comment to me at the beginning of the month made sense.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle gave Applejack a hug as thanks for the gift.  “I know you’re excited and all,” Applejack said, “but if I’m going to be taking you away from your families for a week, then you should be spending as much time with them beforehand.”

“Thanks again, Applejack!  See ya, Apple Bloom, Diamond Tiara!” Scootaloo said.  The two fillies secured their gifts, donned scarves, and headed home.

“Could you help me tie this ribbon?” I asked Apple Bloom.

“Sure.  Let’s go upstairs,” she replied.

We stood in front of the mirror above my dresser.  I pushed aside the box with my tiara, so that we could see the mirror better.  Apple Bloom stood behind me, holding the ribbon above my head.

“I’m sure you know how to tie the ribbon, so the hard part’s going to be deciding what shape to use, and where to put it in your mane,” she explained.  She tried several looks before I found one that felt close.

“Can you tie that bow, but a little further back in my mane?” I asked.

Apple Bloom complied, and I judged my look.  “I like it,” I said.  In the mirror, I saw Apple Bloom standing next to me.  The bow I chose looked a lot like hers.

“Now do you want to practice?” Apple Bloom asked.

I nodded, and untied the ribbon.  Apple Bloom sat on her bed and read while I worked.  Balancing against the dresser, I first tried to find a way to hold the ribbon in my pasterns without letting it slip.  Then, I focused on the bow.  My first few attempts didn’t produce an even or tight bow.

“Who is Babs Seed?” I asked as I untied the bow.

“She’s my cousin.  She’s also looking for her Cutie Mark, and became a Crusader back when she visited Ponyville earlier this year.”  Apple Bloom paused  “There’s something else you should know.”

I looked back at Apple Bloom and nodded.

“Babs visited not long before you, um, you know.  At the time, you convinced her to leave the Crusaders and bully us instead.  But none of us knew she was being bullied herself, back home.”

“Does she know about me?  About me now?” I asked.

“Sort of.  I mentioned you were sharing my room, and that you were in an accident and your pa died.  I didn’t mention your memory loss because, you know, I wasn’t expecting to see her so soon.”

“Maybe we could write a letter,” I suggested.  “Do you think it would get there in time?”

“Probably.”

I looked at the bow in the mirror.  “What do you think?”

Apple Bloom looked up.  “Looks pretty good.”

From downstairs, I heard a knock on the door.  “Are we expecting somepony?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

Curious, we both left the room and headed downstairs.  Applejack had answered the door.  A bespectacled earth pony filly of our age was just inside, stamping her hooves to dislodge the snow.  Her gray coat and two-toned silver mane was not familiar to me.

“Diamond Tiara?” Applejack said.  “Silver Spoon is here to see you.”

> Chapter 14: Silver
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 14: Silver





I stared at the gray filly standing in the foyer.  Silver Spoon.  Now that I heard the name, I recalled Miss Cheerilee saying she was my best friend.  I could remember her image from a number of photographs.  But I didn’t remember anything else.

Apple Bloom walked past me, hastily grabbing her jacket.  “Well, I’ve got lots to do in the barn,” she said before running out the door.

Silver Spoon walked by me, wiggling her rear strangely.  “Bump bump,” she started.  I stared at her, confused.

She abandoned whatever it was she was doing, and embraced me.  “I’ve missed you so much,” she said.  She stared at my head.  “What happened to your tiara?”

“I’m kind of not wearing it anymore,” I said.  “Do you want to talk upstairs?”

Silver Spoon nodded and followed me upstairs.  She looked, I don’t know, a little displeased by the surroundings.  We headed into my room, where her attention was drawn to my tiara, nestled in the case Apple Bloom had made for me.

“Your tiara is damaged,” she said.

“I didn’t notice, but I’m not surprised,” I replied.  “Do you know what happened?” I asked hesitantly.

Silver Spoon nodded.  “I was still in Ponyville when... the accident happened.  I visited you every day for two weeks, but you never got better.  I’m sorry, Diamond Tiara, if I knew you had recovered, I would have written.  I would have visited!”

“That’s okay.  I’ve had a lot of work to do.  A long recovery.”

“Is it true?  That you don’t remember anything?  You don’t remember me?”

I shook my head.  “I’m sorry, Silver Spoon.  I haven’t remembered anything, any specific memory, since I woke up from the coma.  I was holding out hope that maybe, with you being my best friend, you could help me remember something.  But there was nothing.  I didn’t even recognize you at first when you walked in the door.”

“I’m not going to give up that easily.  Come over to my house.  Let’s relive our memories,” Silver Spoon suggested.  “And I can repair your tiara.”

We didn’t have anything planned as a family tonight, so I should be free.  “That sounds nice,” I said.





With Applejack’s permission, I headed out with Silver Spoon.  That should also make things easier for Apple Bloom, who looked a bit uncomfortable when Silver Spoon walked in.  I wasn’t sure where we were walking once we left Sweet Apple Acres, so I followed her lead.

“What have you been doing, Silver Spoon?” I asked.  “Miss Cheerilee said something about you attending a boarding school in Canterlot.”

“Yeah, I am,” Silver Spoon replied, without much enthusiasm.

“You don’t like it?”

“I hate it,” she spit.  “I hate wearing clothes all the time.  The unicorns are all snobs.  There are all these cliques I don’t fit into.  All I have there are my studies.”

That rant sounded like it was a long time coming.  “Then why are you still there?” I asked.

“My parents think it’s the right thing to do,” she replied.  “They’re right,” she admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“My special talent is making silverware and other decorative silver items.  My father can provide the silver, and I can provide the artistry, but somepony still needs to buy it.  And they’re the type of ponies who live in Canterlot and throw extravagant parties.”

“Is it worth being unhappy?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she replied.  “I hope so.”

After a pause, Silver Spoon continued.  “How is it, living on a farm?”

“It’s okay.  Everypony is so busy, but the chores I have to do aren’t so bad.”

“Chores?” Silver Spoon interjected with a scoff.

“The problem is, I don’t remember what my life used to be like.”

“And what’s it like living with the blank flank?” Silver Spoon asked.

I stopped.  “Didn’t you notice?”  She must not have noticed, because she looked surprised.  “Lift up the edge of my jacket.”

Silver Spoon did so.  Seeing my left flank wasn’t enough to convince her, so she then looked at my right flank.  “What... how... is that even possible?” she sputtered.

“I lost my memory, including that part of me,” I said.

“Well, I’m going to help you.  Nopony should lose her cutie mark.”

Silver Spoon fell silent.  I could see her chewing her lip slightly.  Without words, all we heard was the wind and the snow crunching underhoof.  It wasn’t currently snowing, but the stiff wind blew the fallen snow into the air.  Flakes swirled around us and landed on our jackets and in our manes.

We turned off the town’s main roads.  Soon, we were walking through quiet, tree-lined streets.  Finally, we reached a particularly nice street; the painted street sign proclaimed it to be Melody Lane.  It was a divided street, as wide as a boulevard, although clearly not because the traffic demanded it.  Indeed, the snow was undisturbed, save for one set of hoofprints that must have been Silver Spoon’s.  My hooves felt the street’s flagstones under the snow.

My gaze was pulled to my right.  Wrought iron fences separated the road from the estates beyond, and beyond the fence, bushes, and dormant trees, I saw a dark home.  I paused, staring at the still beautiful building.  I didn’t know why I was feeling sad.

Silver Spoon nudged me.  “Do you miss your home?”

I started to correct her, that my home was Sweet Apple Acres, but then I understood what she meant.  This used to be my home.  It would make sense why we were friends, if we were the same age and lived on the same street.

“It’s strange.  I don’t remember anything about this house, but I feel sad seeing it like this,” I observed.

“My home is at the end of the street.  Hopefully, I can make you remember something.”

The gate of Silver Spoon’s home sported a decoration; a circle with a trio of metal ingots was shaped in the wrought iron.  It looked like a cutie mark, and probably was.  Silver Spoon opened the gate and brought me into her yard.

Obviously, Sweet Apple Acres was larger, but the yard made the property look enormous.  Like my old home, there were plenty of trees and bushes, beds that probably held flowers during the warm months, and decorative walkways.  That was clearly different from my new home, where the space not devoted to apple trees held crops or wells or sheds.

And Silver Spoon’s home itself was huge.  The house was three stories tall, with large windows and double doors that looked sized for a barn.  As we approached the doors, they swung open, a trace of yellow-green magic visible on the door handles.  Beyond them, a uniformed unicorn butler waited.

“Welcome home, Miss Silver Spoon,” he said, levitating a towel over to her.  “And a good day to you, Miss Diamond Tiara.”  He provided me a towel as well, and then levitated Silver Spoon’s glasses, cleaning them and drying the condensation that had formed as she entered the warm house.

“Thank you, Proper,” Silver Spoon said.  “Make sure there is another place setting for dinner tonight, and make something our guest will enjoy.”

“Of course, Miss,” the butler replied.  He hung up our jackets and took the used towels away.

“My room’s on the third floor,” Silver Spoon said.  I looked up the broad stairway.  Four times as wide as the one back home, carpeted, with decorative bannisters on both sides.  Not an efficient use of space, but definitely beautiful.

Once I saw it, I guessed Silver Spoon’s bedroom was as large as all the rooms of the second story of the farmhouse, combined.  Her bed was bigger than the two beds in my room, and was covered with a dozen pillows.  The rest of the furniture in the room was rather ornate, with more pieces than were probably necessary.  I had no idea how anypony could fill all those drawers.

Silver Spoon pulled a large book off one of the shelves and placed it on the bed.  It was a photo album.  “There are a lot of good memories in that book.  I hope you can remember them,” she said.

I took a seat on the bed.  Before opening it, I observed Silver Spoon as she sat down, placing my tiara in front of her.  She then pulled out a number of tools.  I didn’t recognize any of them, but they sort of looked like miniature versions of tools Apple Bloom would use.  My friend bent the metal of the tiara back into shape, buffed out scratches, and cleaned it thoroughly, using a variety of brushes and cloths.

As she focused on polishing the tiara, I pored over the photographs.  It looked like I was in about half of them.  I recognized a few places around Ponyville, but I didn’t remember what we were celebrating at Sugarcube Corner that day, or what activity had us in the basement of the school.

Some of the pictures of the two of us included my father.  Others included a mare and stallion with a definite resemblance to Silver Spoon.  These were mostly vacation pictures.  It looked like we were having fun.

“Are you remembering anything?” Silver Spoon asked.

I shook my head.  “No.  But they look like good memories.”

“They are,” Silver Spoon said.  She climbed on the bed next to me, looking over my withers.

I pointed to one vacation photograph.  It featured the two of us, trying to enjoy a picnic, but we were surrounded by rabbits, of all things.  “What’s going on there?” I asked.

“That was our vacation to Coney Island.  I think you saw the rides and attractions in the earlier photographs.  There, we were trying to eat lunch, but the island’s namesake rabbits are pretty aggressive about stealing pony food.”  Silver Spoon smiled.

“What did it cost us?” I asked, also smiling.  Her smile was infectious.

“Two sandwiches and all of our carrots.  I didn’t mind the carrots, but I wanted that daffodil and cream cheese sandwich!”

Coney Island.  I recognized the name, recognized that there was a famous amusement park, but couldn’t remember ever being there, even with this photographic evidence.  

Hmmm.  Coney Island was near Manehattan.  “I’m actually going to Manehattan later this week.  Applejack is taking me,” I commented.

“Why?” asked Silver Spoon, perplexed.

“To see family.  I’m being treated just like any other Apple now.”

“Like, doing chores?”  Silver Spoon scrunched her face.

“Yes, where I can,” I said.

“I can’t believe that Diamond Tiara is doing chores like some common pony,” Silver Spoon said.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“Duh.  We’re better than that,” Silver Spoon said.  When I didn’t react, she continued.  “We’re rich!  Your dad was the most successful retailer in all of Equestria.  My father supplies most of Equestria’s silver.  Chores are for less important ponies.”

“I want to be like my father,” I said.  “From everything I’ve heard, he’s everything a pony should be.”  I sighed.  “But he didn’t save Equestria from Nightmare Moon.  Or Discord.  Or Queen Chrysalis.”

“Pfft.  It’s easy to be brave when you’ve got these super-powerful artifacts,” Silver Spoon said.  I thought about relating Applejack’s personal experience in facing Nightmare Moon, which started before she got her Element of Harmony, but passed.  There was something less confident about Silver Spoon’s response.

I didn’t want to end up in the middle of a battle between my old friend and my new family.  Fortunately, we were called to dinner before that could happen.

Dinner was served on a beautiful and ornate table that looked big enough to seat the entire Apple clan.  Okay, more like a fourth of them, but it was still a big table.  Its size was wasted as Silver Spoon’s parents sat next to each other at one end of the table, while the butler led us to seats at the opposite end of the table.

“Diamond Tiara, this is my father, Silver Strike, and my mother, Silver Platter.”

“It’s nice to see you again,” I said.  “And thank you for your hospitality.”  I noticed the three silver ingots on Silver Strike’s flank matched the cutie mark on the gate.

Our meal started with a fresh salad, more exotic than what I had been eating back home, with a slightly more bitter flavor.  The vinaigrette balanced it perfectly.  The greens were fresh and crisp, reminding me that I hadn’t seen fresh greens at home for a few weeks.

Dinner was levitated into the room by another unicorn servant.  The butler lifted the silver cloche over each of our plates.  “Medallions of hay and braised root vegetables,” he announced.

Again, I was impressed by the flavor of the meal.  I liked the food the Apples prepared.  They used ingredients and seasonings well, especially with apple dishes.  If I had to guess, this meal was made by somepony with a special talent in cooking.  There were at least a half dozen spices playing across my palate.  I couldn’t name them, but they all seemed essential to the final meal.

After the dinner plates were cleared, conversation picked up around the table.  Silver Spoon’s parents politely asked about how I felt, and what I had been doing over the last few months.  I didn’t want to talk about my recovery that much.  I mentioned a little bit about cider season and zap apples.  About the only thing that caught their attention was how I met the current head of Barnyard Bargains.

I decided to build on that.  “I met with my father’s lawyer, Legal Plan.  I think my father taught me a lot about the business, and I hope to leverage Legal Plan’s insight to keep a close eye on my future.”  I pointedly did not talk about working at Barnyard Bargains.

Finally, we had dessert.  A yellow cake with a golden ring of fruit and a cherry was placed in front of me.  My heart started to race.

“Pineapple upside down cake, Miss Diamond Tiara,” the butler said.

I looked at the small silver fork placed by the cake.  I was definitely motivated to hold it properly.  All of my physical therapy was leading up to this day!  I picked it up in the pastern of my right foreleg, using the hoof of my left foreleg to make sure it was held snugly.

I was rewarded with the taste of delicious pineapple and cake.

The pineapple candy I made at Twist’s house was good, but deep down, I knew the flavoring was artificial.  This was the real thing.  It might have been softened by cooking, but it was still real pineapple.

Dinner left me with a full stomach, but there was something nagging me.  I didn’t enjoy dinner with Silver Spoon’s parents.  My interactions with them lacked the warmness of the interactions with my family, even though they knew me longer.

Once we were back in Silver Spoon’s room, I felt safe to ask a question.  “Did you tell your parents you were bringing me over today?”

“No, why?”

“How did you hear I recovered from my coma?” I asked.

“I ran into some of the other fillies in town.  Then, at Sugarcube Corner, Pinkie Pie was happy to fill me in with all the relevant details, and a lot more that weren’t relevant at all.”

“How long have your parents been trying to get you to go to that school in Canterlot?” I asked.

“For as long as I can remember,” Silver Spoon replied.  “I think they tried to get your parents to send you to the same school.  But your father loved Ponyville too much to send you away.  And I... I just wanted to go to school with my best friend.  I... I guess that’s over now.”

“It doesn’t matter what your parents think.  I still want to keep in contact, Silver Spoon,” I said.  “If I can’t ever recover my old memories, then we’re going to have to make new ones.”

“I’m not going to give up on my new school.  But I promise to write.  I’ll get you your memories back,” Silver Spoon said.  “And your cutie mark.  Step by the mirror.”

I did so.  Silver Spoon stood near me, holding my tiara in her mouth, protected by a fine cloth.  She placed it on my head, adjusting its position.  She frowned at how I looked with both my tiara and my bow, so she tugged at the ribbon.

I gasped.  I felt like I was denying Apple Bloom’s sisterhood and Sweetie Belle’s thoughtful and generous gift.  But Silver Spoon just wanted to help me.

As my mane came loose, Silver Spoon attacked it with her hairbrush, looking for a style that would go well with the tiara.  When she finished, it looked good.  And my tiara looked beautiful.

“So you think my parents are trying to get me to move on from our friendship?” Silver Spoon mentioned.

Silver Spoon introduced me to her parents, as if it were our first meeting.  Obviously, it wasn’t our first meeting, though it was to me.  They didn’t view this introduction as unusual.  That suggested they knew about my accident and partial recovery.  But they didn’t tell their daughter.

Her parents really want her to make connections in Canterlot.  I stopped her from doing that for years.

It all adds up.

“That’s exactly what I suspected,” I said.

“I’m glad you didn’t see the scene here when I learned you were awake.  I was... rather upset.  The door to my bedroom had a dent in it from where I kicked it shut.”  Silver Spoon looked upset, but shook her head.  “Enough about me.  I’m here to help you.”

Silver Spoon pointed to my reflection.  “You saw through my parents.  That’s your talent, knowing ponies.  And in knowing ponies, you know how to lead them.  That’s what your tiara represents.  You should be in charge because that’s your talent!”

My friend’s words made me feel confident.  “I want to run Barnyard Bargains.  Even Applejack thinks I’ll be doing that.  But I don’t know as much about the business as my father did.”

“But you don’t need to know everything to be in charge!  I can’t bake for anything, but that didn’t stop me from getting Proper Manner to organize a dinner with your favorite dessert!”  She smiled.  “Besides, if you got your cutie mark for knowing about Barnyard Bargains, you’d have that wooden sign on your flank.  Trust me.  Your tiara is a much better cutie mark.”

“Hey, that Barnyard Bargains sign is historic!” I said, smiling.

Silver Spoon snorted.  “Whatever.  Say, do you know how to run a newspaper?”

I thought about it.  “I don’t know much about newspapers,” I said.

She placed her hoof on my tiara.  “But you ran a newspaper.  Remember?”

I shook my head.

“About a year ago, Miss Cheerilee put you in charge of the Foal Free Press, the student newspaper,” Silver Spoon said.  “And you made it the talk of the town!  Adult ponies were lining up to buy the newspaper.”

“Really?  How?”

“You included the best gossip column this town has ever seen.  You found what this town had been craving!  And you got the blank flanks to do the dirty work.  That’s like a win-win-win!” Silver Spoon said.

“I don’t know.  That doesn’t sound nice,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s what Miss Cheerilee thought,” Silver Spoon said.  “Most ponies were more than happy to read the column, until they found themselves the subject of one of Gabby Gum’s revelations.”

“Did I reveal one of your secrets?” I asked.

“No, and I’m very glad you didn’t.”

“Like what secrets?” I wondered.

Silver Spoon smiled.  “I’m not telling.  Consider that a little motivation to recover those memories.”

Silver Spoon again touched my tiara.  “What I’m saying is you have a natural talent for leadership.  Do you think there’s any other foal who can claim the accomplishment of making a student newspaper the most widely read newspaper in town?  That was you.  It took a lot of work for you to see your talent the first time.  Please remember who you are, Diamond Tiara.”

Staring at our reflections in the mirror, I reached out a foreleg and pulled Silver Spoon into an embrace.  “Thank you, Silver Spoon.”  She made me feel good about myself.  I felt warm, but not in the one place that mattered.  My flank remained blank.





It was late, so it was time to head home.  Silver Spoon donned her jacket, so that she could walk me out of the neighborhood.

“Your parents seem obsessed with status.  Why do they even live in Ponyville?” I asked Silver Spoon.

“It’s the silver mine.  The vein of silver my father discovered, and still his biggest strike, is in the Ghastly Gorge region.  Ponyville is the nearest town, so that’s why we live here,” Silver Spoon explained.

“Oh,” I said.

Silver Spoon gave me another hug.  “I’m so glad I got to see you again, Diamond Tiara.  Let’s keep in touch.”

“I’d love to,” I replied.

“Have a safe walk home.”

As we separated, I was again alone with my thoughts.  The moonlight reflecting off the snow reminded me of the luster of silver.  And the tiara, still on my head, reminded me of how close we had been.

Silver Spoon’s attitudes, and the way she thought, were different than the Apples.  And I’m sure her perspective on events in our shared past were different than Apple Bloom’s.  I was glad for her help today.  She told me what she saw in me, what my talents were.  And clearly, she helped me uncover my special talent.

But I remained worried that I didn’t use those talents well.

Did I get my cutie mark too soon?

> Chapter 15: Manehattan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 15: Manehattan





On the benches sat ponies.  Many sipped from paper cups of tea.  Some were looking for respite from the cold air, while others were looking for something to help them wake up.  Most looked like they needed both.

And all looked perturbed at the three energetic fillies who were immune to both the cold and the early hour.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo ran around the platform, releasing energy in a way they wouldn’t be able to while riding the train.  I was excited as well, though not to the point of running around.  I was happy to experience my first new memory outside Ponyville.  They were happy to see their good friend.

I hoped Babs Seed would be as forgiving as the Cutie Mark Crusaders had been.

Applejack kept a careful eye on us, making sure we didn’t cross that line between rambunctious and annoying.  As long as we didn’t get too close to somepony, she was content to let fillies be fillies.

Steam poured from the locomotive as the engine was stoked.  The doors to the train opened, and the conductor called “All aboard!  All aboard for Canterlot, Fillydelphia, and Manehattan.”

We rushed aboard, leaving Applejack to make sure our luggage got loaded.  We staked out one of the berths, with padded benches facing each other and a table in between.  The benches were long enough for two ponies or three foals to sit.  That would be perfect for the five of us.

Apple Bloom lifted our carry-on bags into the compartment above our seats, effortlessly balancing each bag on her head before rearing and depositing it onto the racks.  By the time she finished, Applejack had joined us.

“You ready for the long trip?” Applejack asked.  She dropped a thick book on the seat next to her.

“As ready as I can be,” Apple Bloom said.

We settled in.  Applejack made sure our tickets were in order, and once the conductor came by and took them, she opened her book.

“I can’t remember if I ever saw you read anything that large,” I said.

Applejack shrugged.  “Don’t get much of a chance to read,” she replied.  “Too much to do at home, and during the evening, when I’m not working on something for the farm, I still prefer to be doing something with my hooves.  But it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good book.  And I’m pretty good friends with the local librarian.”

“So what did you check out?” I asked.

“Twilight recommended a couple of books.  This one’s a history book, about how the spread of agriculture influenced the development of cultures across Equestria.  It’s supposed to be written for the casual reader, not one of those stuffy academic tomes with two pages of footnotes for each page of text,” Applejack said.  “She also gave me one of those Daring Do books for some lighter reading.  She says one of the side characters reminded her of me.  Figured I’d see what the fuss was about.”

The engine picked up steam, and soon we were rolling out of Ponyville.  Watching Ponyville recede into the distance and the wilderness pass by kept our attention for a few minutes.  But boredom returned with a vengeance.  Unlike days spent in the clubhouse wondering what to do, we wouldn’t be able to leave the train for eight hours.

“Hey, I brought that board game I got for Hearth’s Warming.  We could play it,” Scootaloo suggested.

Without any better ideas, Scootaloo retrieved the game and set it up.  I was expecting a simple foal’s game, the kind I’d have known about even if I hadn’t played it.  Instead, she set up an unfamiliar board of hexagonal tiles, and set out a variety of playing pieces.  She gave us a disjointed accounting of the rules.  After a ton of questions, it became clearer.  Pieces on the board allowed you to collect resources from the tiles, and the resources allowed the purchase and placing of more pieces on the board.  There was also a trading element to the game, so it wasn’t pure luck.

The part of the game that attracted the most attention was the dice.  Normally games have spinners, being easier to manipulate by hoof, but this game had two six-sided dice that were enclosed in a clear bubble.  Press down on it and release, and the metal base rebounded, bouncing the two dice around.  We spent so much time playing with the dice roller that Scootaloo had to remind us there was a game included with the dice.

Using two dice instead of a spinner made some spaces of the game board more valuable than the others, as their numbers would be rolled more often.  The others picked up on this fact as well, so my two starting settlements weren’t any better than average.

I started the game by collecting resources.  I knew where I wanted to play my next village token, but I wasn’t getting what I needed at first.  But then again, neither did anypony else.  When I rolled a 5, getting a wood token and a grain token, I made my move.

“Does anypony have a clay token?” I asked innocently.

Two sets of hooves moved to their cardboard shields, protecting their valuable clay.  I focused on Sweetie Belle, who looked more receptive.  “How about you, Sweetie Belle?”

“I don’t think I’m going to trade right now,” she replied.

“Even for a wood?”  No response.  “How about a wood and an ore?”

“Deal!” Sweetie Belle replied.

That left me with eight tokens, but just the eight tokens I needed.  I sent the tokens to the bank.  “Road, road, village!” I announced, stealing Scootaloo’s next planned building spot.

“Hey!” she protested.

I slid the dice popper to her.  “Your turn,” I said.

I did end up winning that game, but after that, everypony was leery about trading with me.  I didn’t win the next three games we played before finally putting the game away.  At least these games ate up about half the trip.

After lunch, we settled into random things to pass the time.  Silly games like I Spy, talking about school and happenings in town, and reading passed some time.  Then, Apple Bloom asked the question I dreaded being asked.

“So, how did your visit with Silver Spoon go?”

Apple Bloom’s question could have been interpreted as confrontational.  I think she realized that, and clarified matters.  “Did you remember anything?”

The answer to the second question was easy.  As for the first, I was conflicted.  On my walk home that night, I had a lot to think about.  I don’t think Silver Spoon would ever accept the friendship of the Cutie Mark Crusaders.  She had some attitudes that I didn’t understand in my current mental state, and that I fear I had accepted in the past.  I think she was influenced by the opinion of others, and I fear how I contributed to that.  However, there were a lot of good feelings from our meeting.  I chose to focus on those.

“No, I didn’t remember anything.  And that’s too bad, as I think we had a lot of good memories.  She’s promised to keep in touch, and help me in any way possible,” I said.

I received stares from the other Crusaders.  “Look, it’s not like she has a photo album of all the times we called you blank flanks!” I said defensively.  While true, I don’t think I’d invite her over for dinner.

“I don’t think you should begrudge Diamond Tiara keeping in touch with her old friend,” Applejack commented, without looking up from her book.

That quieted Apple Bloom.  Finally, the silence was broken by Sweetie Belle.

“I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter B.”





Finally, the train arrived in Manehattan’s Grand Central Station.  Applejack called us close to her as we navigated through the throng of ponies.  I think there were more ponies in just this one station than gathered for the average Ponyville celebration!

Once outside, I got a good look at the big city.  Where Ponyville seemed to grow organically around its central district, any such structure in Manehattan had long since been replaced.  Tall buildings towered between streets laid out in a grid fashion.  The smell of the ocean lingered faintly in the air.  The city’s population was predominantly earth pony, with pegasi in a distinct minority.

We walked perhaps a mile before Applejack motioned us into one of the buildings.  The large lobby was familiar.  It wasn’t that I recognized it, but aspects of the design were similar to Silver Spoon’s mansion.  The open space, the staircase, and the chandeliers were all familiar.

“Why aren’t we staying with Aunt and Uncle Orange?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Their apartment is nice, but it’s not that big.  It’d be a mite uncomfortable for us all to squeeze in there,” Applejack explained.

I’m sure Applejack mentioned the hotel to both of us, but it’s easy to miss those details when you’re excited about a trip.  “Isn’t this place expensive?” I asked.

“Aunt Orange insisted we stay here, her treat,” Applejack replied.  “Says it’s the least she could do for family.”

Soon, we had our keys, and headed to our hotel room.  After seeing the lobby, I found the room a little disappointing.  It was a suite with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a small kitchen and living area.  It was comfortable, and probably larger than the second floor of our house, but overall, it was surprisingly utilitarian.  Everything looked nice, but nothing on par with the style of the lobby.

“Now get cleaned up, everypony,” Applejack ordered.  “We’ve got dinner and visiting with the Oranges tonight.  It’s casual, so save your dresses for the big party tomorrow.”

That was easy enough.





Our destination for this evening was a tall apartment building, built of white stone.  Various decorative flourishes, fluted columns and the like, set the building apart from the typical building outside Ponyville’s core.  A uniformed pony operated the mechanical lift that took us to the tenth floor.

Walking down the hallway, I noticed that each door held one or two pictures, obviously cutie marks.  For a moment, I wondered why those were used, rather than names.  Back in Ponyville, where a good number of ponies lived in their own shops, it makes more sense; the flower identifies both the owner of the shop and what the shop sells.  Perhaps it’s a tradition that sticks even in the big city.

The orange on the door indicated we had reached our final destination.  Applejack rapped on the door with her hoof.  Shortly thereafter, a well-groomed older earth pony stallion with a light orange coat and green mane answered the door.  “Little Jackie!  So good to see you!” he said warmly.

Applejack looked a bit uncomfortable at hearing his nickname for her.  I don’t recall anypony using it back in Ponyville.  “It’s good to see you, Uncle Orange.  But since I’m not trying to fit in with the ponies of Manehattan, I’m just good old Applejack.”

“Of course, dear.  But you can’t expect me to forget that time when you were our little Jackie?” he continued, smiling.  

Uncle Orange stepped aside, ushering us into his apartment.  I examined the furnishings and decorations.  The items were new, and their quality was superb.  I assumed they were purchased from ponies with those talents, unlike the furniture back at the farm.  It showed they had the wealth to buy nice things, but their display wasn’t as ostentatious as I saw in Silver Spoon’s mansion.

An earth pony mare, of around the same age as Uncle Orange, soon entered the room.  She was a light yellow color, with just a hint of orange, and her orange mane was elegantly styled.  “Applejack, so good to see you again!” she said.

“Thanks, Aunt Orange.  It sure has been awhile.  Missed you at the last Apple family reunion!” Applejack said.

Aunt Orange frowned slightly.  “I do apologize that business keeps us from traveling as much as we’d like.  Now, I do believe introductions are in order?”

“Of course,” Applejack said, nodding.  She motioned to the two older ponies.  “Girls, my aunt, Valencia Orange, and my uncle, Mosely Orange.”  She then motioned to us in turn.  “I’m sure you remember Apple Bloom.  This is Diamond Tiara, the newest member of our family, and their friends, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Orange,” we said in unison.

“Now, I’m sure you’re looking for something to eat that’s better than cold sandwiches from the train’s dining car,” Aunt Orange said.  We all nodded.  “So let’s head to the dining room.”

There was a definite energy among us fillies.  Just a little bit of nervous energy, a desire to get up and do something after being on a train for so long.  But the prospect of food got us to sit quietly.

Two servants brought out the first course, a salad of mixed greens with almonds and orange segments.  I listened as Applejack and the Oranges discussed the goings-on in their respective sides of the families.  I think I recognized some names, but they were ponies I had only seen in pictures.

The main course was stir-fried vegetables and mushrooms in an orange sweet and sour glaze.  Like the salad, it was very tasty, and really highlighted oranges.  There was a brief pause in the conversation, which I took advantage of.

“Thank you for the mulling spices,” I said.

Aunt Orange smiled.  “You’re very welcome, dear.”

“Do you actually grow any oranges here?” I asked.

“We do maintain a greenhouse just outside of town,” Uncle Orange said.

“It is important to remember our roots,” Aunt Orange added.

“But most of our oranges are grown in our groves near Mihaymi, far to the south,” said Uncle Orange.

“Down there, the pegasi don’t bring the kind of cold weather that orange trees can’t tolerate,” Aunt Orange said.

“It makes me wonder why you stick around here in the winter,” Applejack said.  “Heck, makes me wonder why we didn’t go someplace warmer.”

“And why are you so far away from your oranges?” I added.

“Manehattan may be cold and crowded, but it’s cosmopolitan and the business capital of Equestria,” Uncle Orange said enthusiastically.  “If you wanted to run a national business, you needed to be in Manehattan.”  He paused thoughtfully.  “Guess that’s not as much true nowadays.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you’ve got the railroads now, so shipping doesn’t require the rivers and ports.  And the telegraph is about as fast as dragonfire for communication, and accessible to anypony.”  He took a sip of orange juice.  “But enough of that.  I still love Manehattan, and I think you would have loved it, too, Applejack.”

“Aw, shucks.  But my heart remained at Sweet Apple Acres, even when I was a stubborn filly,” Applejack said.  I noticed the other Crusaders nodding; this was a story they must have heard before.

I didn’t even notice as the dinner plates were cleared, to be replaced by a bowl with our dessert.  In a creamy sauce, I saw a delicious blend of orange, coconut, marshmallow... and pineapple!

“What is this?” Sweetie Belle asked, preempting my own question.

“We call it ambrosia,” Uncle Orange said, “a heavenly dessert.”  Judging by everypony’s reaction, they agreed with that assessment.

Following dessert, we sat at the table, rubbing our bellies in a satisfied manner.

“Now, it’s time for photos!” Aunt Orange said.

Every filly at the table groaned.





“So, how did you like the Oranges?” Applejack asked me after we returned to the hotel room.

“They seem nice.  Down to earth,” I said.

“Well, they don’t work the land anymore, but you can still see their tie to it,” Applejack said.  Now that she mentioned it, they did seem a lot more like the Apples than the Silvers.  Their apartment was certainly nice, but I didn’t get that ostentatious feeling I got from the Silver mansion.  They also seemed warmer than the older Silvers.

“But don’t get too comfortable, partner,” Applejack said.  “We’re going to one of their fancy-schmancy parties tomorrow, to celebrate the New Year.”

I thought about my friends, especially Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.  “Well, this should be interesting,” I said.





The next day was spent like any other tourist.  We climbed to the top of the Statue of Harmony, had a delicious hot pretzel for lunch, and checked out the view of the city from the observation deck of its tallest building.

“All right, that’s enough for today,” Applejack said.  “We all have to get to the salon.”

“The salon?” Apple Bloom said, gasping.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Scootaloo sticking her hoof in her mouth and making a fake gagging noise.

“Well, I didn’t have you all bring your nice dresses because I wanted you to carry more luggage,” Applejack said.  “There’s a really nice party to celebrate the New Year, so we should look nice, too.  The Oranges are paying for this as well, so I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

With grumbles from Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, we returned to the hotel, and visited its salon.

Two hours later, I looked at the rest of my party.  My mouth hung open, with good reason.  Without the utilitarian ties holding her mane and tail in a ponytail, and with a gentle wave added to her mane, Applejack looked radiant.  Apple Bloom’s mane was arranged on her head, the red hairs reaching an impressive height.  Sweetie Belle’s mane sparkled, while Scootaloo looked remarkably different, her mane combed flat and secured with hairpins decorated with amethyst.

I looked in the mirror.  I didn’t see much of a change. The natural waviness of my mane was enhanced, but it still looked a lot like my mane did when I wasn’t wearing my bow.

“Well, now that we all look pretty and such, we best get going.  Let’s stop for ice cream before dinner,” Applejack said.

We all cheered.  But I wondered something.  “Why are we getting ice cream so close to dinner?”

“Trust me. The kind of food they serve at one of these things is hardly worth the term.”





Two hours later, dressed up, just coming down from a sugar high, Applejack escorted us to the evening’s party.  It was held in the ballroom of the same hotel where we were staying, and judging by the number of attendees already there, there was no way the party could have fit in the Oranges’ apartment.  We had to steer ourselves around small clusters of ponies and busy unicorn waiters, carrying trays of appetizers and drinks in their magical auras.  Finally, we reached Aunt and Uncle Orange, busy being the hosts of the party.

“Thank you kindly for the invitation, Uncle Orange,” Applejack said.

“You’re very welcome, Applejack.  The New Year’s Eve party is an Orange tradition, and it simply wouldn’t do to have you in Manehattan and not invite you,” he replied.  “Dinner will be served shortly.”

“That’s good to hear.  Now, I’d like to get the fillies settled,” Applejack said.

“If I recall, you’re sitting over there,” Uncle Orange said, pointing to the end of one of the long tables.  “You’ll find name cards at each place setting.”

“Thank you again,” Applejack said.  She gave us subtle nudges to pull us away from the hosts.  Once we were away, she continued.  “I’ll keep an eye out for a waiter to bring you some drinks and snacks.  Until then, hold tight.”

Soon, we had glasses of iced tea, and little bits of toast topped with cream cheese and vegetables.  And we were bored.

“Booooring,” Scootaloo said, reading my mind.

“Applejack did say it’d be worth it in the end,” Apple Bloom said.  “But yeah, these parties are for older ponies.”

I looked around the room.  The simple act of talking, of establishing new relationships and reconnecting with old friends, kept these ponies happy.  Perhaps this is what Silver Spoon’s parents are training her for.

Would it be my future as well?

Finally, ponies started moving to the tables.  Once everypony was seated, a small army of waiters descended on the tables.  Cloches were lifted, and plates flew across the tables in the grip of multiple unicorns’ auras.

I stared at the tiny salad on my plate.  Now I know why we had ice cream first.

If I had to guess, these small meals were designed to allow more time to socialize.  I saw Applejack talking politely with her neighbors.  I couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about, but I did notice a difference in the way she spoke.  It sounded like she was fighting to conceal her accent.

While enjoying our entree, I felt a hoof nudge me under the table.  I looked up at Scootaloo.  Once she had my eye, she opened her mouth, saying, “Ahh!”  I got a look at the multicolored mass on her tongue, the remains of the pasta salad.

I giggled.  It was totally foalish, but I laughed at her antics, and even more when she tricked Sweetie Belle into looking at her.  Then, Apple Bloom got into the action.  She held up her roll, which she had hollowed up and stuffed with mashed potatoes.

A quick glance to my right proved the adults weren’t watching us.  So I fashioned some strands of spaghetti into one of those droopy mustaches.  I got laughs out of my friends.

Well, it’s good to know we could make our own entertainment.





Once dessert was consumed, and coffee drunk, ponies began to slowly leave the tables.  “Now comes the good part,” Applejack said to us.

“What are we doing now?” Scootaloo asked.

“We’re going to the roof,” Applejack responded.

Going to the roof required first taking the lift to the top floor of the building, then taking a set of stairs up.  The sight was something I hadn’t seen on any building in Ponyville.  The flat roof had been set up like a reception area.  Small tables were scattered across the central area of the roof, barely large enough for a couple of plates.  There were benches beyond that.  More waiters walked through the crowds, with trays of drinks and light snacks.

What was most impressive about the area were the reddish spheres hovering just above our heads.  They emitted heat while shedding very little light.  The warmth of the magical heat lamps kept the chill of the winter’s night away while not interfering with the view.

“Look,” Applejack said.

She motioned with her foreleg, drawing our attention to the Manehattan skyline.  It’s called the city that never sleeps, but seeing all those buildings, still lit up, made it clear to me just how true that statement was.  One building in particular was more brightly lit, with a bright ball hovering over it.

“From here, we can see that famous ball drop to welcome in the New Year,” Applejack said.

“Cool!” we all said.

“Have you seen this before?” I asked.

“Nope,” Applejack said.  “I lived with Aunt and Uncle Orange for a little while when I was still trying to find out what I wanted to do with my life, but that was during the summer.  Attended quite a few parties like this one, but never on the roof.  And I’ve never seen the ball drop, though Aunt and Uncle Orange talked a lot about it.  I’m glad they’re sharing it with us.”

“How much longer?” I asked.

“About half an hour, if I remember what that clock in the hotel said.”

I yawned.  Was it really that late?  I knew that the party was long, but I hadn’t realized so much time had passed.  I walked off with my friends, noticing they were fighting fatigue.  Of course, being fillies, we would never admit to being tired, especially to an adult.

We talked until we noticed a shift in the activity on the roof.  There was a general buzzing from the crowd, and ponies started to gather at one end of the building, looking to the sky.  We squeezed around the legs of the older ponies, finding a place where we could see the falling ball.

“One minute, everypony!” somepony shouted.  We craned our necks.  That glowing ball was just barely moving.  “Thirty seconds!”  It started to descend faster.  “Twenty!”  It was now moving down at a constant speed.  “Ten!  Nine!  Eight!  Seven!  Six!  Five!  Four!  Three!  Two!  One!”

The ball reached its destination, flaring as brightly as Celestia’s sun, before fading, revealing 1478, the new year.  And just as we got used to the ambient light of the city again, the sky exploded.  Multicolored trails filled the night sky, reds and blues and greens and bright yellows.  The fireworks display held the attention of these four tired fillies.

When the grand finale ended, ponies started to head back into the hotel.  We waited a bit for the crowds to clear, making it easier to find Applejack.  We headed down the stairs to our hotel room, bypassing the long wait for the lift.

The scene in the hotel room was an anticlimactic end to an exciting day.  Apple Bloom leaned against her sister, ready to fall asleep.  Sweetie Belle was sprawled on the bed, still in her dress.  Only Scootaloo seemed active; she stared in the mirror, mussing her mane with her hooves, trying to restore it to its normal wind-tossed look.

I stared at the paper on the desk, blank save for the hotel’s name and address.  A new year.  A new life for me, with opportunities as vast as the city of Manehattan.  I had a lot left to write on this blank page before me.

> Chapter 16: Seeds
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 16: Seeds





Nopony complained when Applejack let us sleep later than usual, the long night having taken a toll on us all.  We were a bit rushed to get breakfast and pack our bags, but soon we were in a carriage, heading to meet the Seeds.

“So how come the Seeds didn’t come to the party thrown by Aunt and Uncle Orange?” I asked.

“They’re not related,” Applejack replied.  Upon seeing my surprised expression, she continued.  “Well, they’re all part of the Apple family to us, and they’re welcome to come to the family reunion, but Uncle Orange is Ma’s brother, and Apple Seed is Pa’s brother.  So those two ponies aren’t related at all.”

I nodded.  Having a large family sure was confusing!

The carriage crossed a bridge, reaching a part of Manehattan that wasn’t quite as impressive.  Rather than tall skyscrapers, the buildings were no more than three stories tall, set closely together.  The brown stone of the buildings created a pleasing uniform appearance for the neighborhoods.  Small shops occupied each corner.  Clothing was less common among the ponies walking along these streets.

Finally, we stopped at one of these brownstones.  We all hopped out of the carriage, stretching our legs.  Applejack dealt with the luggage and settled the bill with the carriage driver.  Meanwhile, Apple Bloom dashed off, running to meet a filly of our age who had stepped outside.  I and the other Crusaders followed.

“Babs!” Apple Bloom shouted.

“Cuz!” she replied.

The two fillies locked hooves and bounced around a bit before embracing.  Surveying her cousin, Apple Bloom said “You grew your tail out!”

“Yeah, I did,” Babs replied, shaking her tail.  It looked of normal length to me, so she must have worn it shorter before.

“You have your eye on somepony?” Apple Bloom teased.

“No, of course not!” Babs countered.  The way she blushed made it entirely to clear she wasn’t being perfectly honest.  “It’s good to see you girls again.  We’re going to do so much crusading!”

“Good to see you again, Babs!” Sweetie Belle said.  Scootaloo and I nodded in agreement.

By this time, Applejack was ready.  She had three bags balanced on her back.  “You fillies go fetch the rest of the luggage.  I’ll see you inside,” she said.

We gathered our bags and headed in.  I walked up alongside Babs.  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“Look, Apple Bloom told me what happened,” she replied, speaking in a louder voice.  “I don’t want you to apologize for something you don’t remember.  In fact, I’m the one who should be apologizing, for going along with your stupid plan.”

Babs’s voice was loud enough to carry to the others.  Apple Bloom shot her a withering glare.  “What?  It’s true!” Babs protested.

“There’s no sense in not being honest with each other,” Sweetie Belle said.  “You remember?  It was not being honest that caused all those problems the first time!”

“Yeah,” the others all muttered.

“But don’t worry.  By the time you head home, we’re sure to have our cutie marks!” Babs said.

The Seeds’ house had the same lived-in appearance of my home.  There were plenty of pictures on the walls, and knickknacks scattered around.  The home probably wasn’t built by the family, but they made it their own.

Our first stop was the kitchen, where we met Babs’s family.  Apple Seed, her father, had the same red coat as Big McIntosh, although with a green mane.  His cutie mark was a sprouting plant, probably an apple tree.  Short Order, her mother, was a plum mare with a yellow mane and a spatula cutie mark.  They greeted all of us with big hugs and friendly words in the clipped accent they all shared.

“And your brother will say hi if he ever comes out of his room,” Short Order said.

“Still upset that he can’t have a bunch of his friends stay over?” Babs said.

“Those hooligans?  Forget about it!”

Babs then led us to her room, which was on the second floor.  She had a bunk bed, the top bunk clean, the bottom obviously used, with the covers balled up in one corner.  A cot and a pair of sleeping bags had been added to the room.  It was going to be a tight fit.

“We’re all staying in your room?” I asked.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind,” Babs replied.

“Mind?  Why would we mind?  This is going to be, like, a super sleepover!” Scootaloo exclaimed.

“We’ll stay up all night!” Sweetie Belle added.

“Yeah, but if we get too loud, Mom will barge in.  You don’t want to see that,” Babs warned.

“So, what are we going to do first?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Not much today,” Babs replied.  “Mom and Dad want us to stick around the home.  But I did invite some friends over to play hoofball.”

“Are they your own Crusaders?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yeah, they are!” she said.

After a little time spent unpacking, we heard a knock from downstairs.  “They’re here!” Babs said excitedly.

By the time we made it downstairs, a unicorn colt and pegasus filly were already standing in the foyer.  “Hey, Simoon!  What’s up, Stringy?”

The light green unicorn winced when he heard the name, but then smiled.  “Thanks for inviting us over, Babsy!” he said, gauging his friend’s reaction.  He turned to us.  “Name’s Bow String.”

“And I’m Simoon,” the pegasus said.  Her accent was exotic, suggesting she was from somewhere that didn’t speak Equestrian.  Her sandy coat and brown mane were also unusual.

“Nice to meet you,” we all said, and then introduced ourselves.  The others didn’t react to my name, so if Babs ever told them about the incident in Ponyville, she didn’t mention my name.

At this point, I got a better look at Bow String.  Right by his yellow tail, and partially covered by his jacket, was a cutie mark of a violin.  “You’re not a Crusader?” I asked.

“Bow String will still be a Manehattan Crusader as long as he wants to be our friend!” Babs said.

“So how’d you get your Cutie Mark?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“I always liked music.  Babs thought I was good at it, and told me to keep trying different musical things.  Turns out, I’m good with the violin!”

“Yes, you should hear him play!” Simoon said.

“Yeah, but not now.  Let’s go outside and play!” Babs said.

“And don’t forget your brother!” Short Order called, showing that unnerving talent of parents to always be listening in on their children’s conversations.  “Johnny!  Come out of your room and go play outside!” she shouted.  I noted with interest how both the Seed foals had meaningless names.  That wasn’t something seen often in Ponyville.

We donned our jackets and headed outside, soon to be joined by a pale purple earth pony colt about two years our junior.  “You must be Johnny,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied noncommittally.

“Mom just wants us both out of the house,” Babs complained, bouncing the hoofball on her head.  “At least we have even team sizes now.”

“So how are we splitting up?” Scootaloo asked.

“Let’s do Ponyville versus Manehattan!” Sweetie Belle said.  That seemed reasonable to everypony, judging by their reactions.

“Yeah, you can play alongside Stringy!” Apple Bloom teased.  Babs blushed slightly in response.

Hoofball is one of those games that can be played with a ball and any number of ponies, but once you get to eight players, you get something near a real game.  Two strikers, one defender, one goalie.  We marked the borders of the goal in the snow.  As if to fight Apple Bloom’s suggestion, Babs split from Bow String, with the filly taking the defender slot.  The two other Manehattan Crusaders were the strikers, with Johnny relegated to goalkeeper.

I was happy to be goalie for my team.  It meant less moving around, so hopefully I would have enough energy to play for as long as everypony else wanted to play.  Apple Bloom was our defender, leaving Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo to attack our opposition.

And then we started playing.  The street was our pitch.  At that point, it struck me just how different Ponyville and Manehattan were.  There was plenty of space in Ponyville, in Sweet Apple Acres and elsewhere, to hold a game like this.  Here in Manehattan, houses didn’t have much in the way of yards.  But the Manehattan foals were used to the situation.  Pauses in the game happened, without fuss, when a carriage passed on the street.  We weren’t interrupted often, as it seemed the adults were smart, and stayed inside during winter.

We didn’t really keep score, but it was obvious that the locals kicked our flanks.  Apple Bloom was a tenacious defender, but I just wasn’t fast enough to intercept the kicks that got through her.  I was glad when the game was interrupted by Babs’s mother calling us to lunch.  And after a quick lunch of daisy sandwiches and milk, we were back outside.

After another bout of hoofball, we had grown tired of the activity.  “Now what?” Scootaloo asked.

“I guess we could show you around the neighborhood,” Babs said.

“That is a wonderful idea!” Simoon said.

Within an easy walk of Babs’s house were several small shops.  I noticed florists, candy shops, bakeries, a soda fountain, and more.  The neighborhood was surprisingly like Ponyville, save for the buildings being plainer.  The milkshakes we enjoyed could have come from Sugarcube Corner.

All in all, it was a fun day.  As Celestia’s sun began to set, we separated from Babs’s friends.  “Mom will be serving dinner, and we don’t want to be late,” she said.

By the time we got home, the smell of spicy chili filled the house.  Even after those milkshakes, we all headed straight to the kitchen.  A huge pot of chili rested on the kitchen table, full of beans and tomatoes and onions and spices.  We all gathered around the table, which had four regular chairs and four mismatched chairs added.

Surprisingly, Short Order served her chili over spaghetti.  I shrugged; those are both good foods, so why not try them together?  

“So what did you do today?” Applejack asked.

We took turns recapping our day.  Apple Seed was quick to approve of our being active, and Short Order hinted at some gossip surrounding the ponies running the stores we visited.

Without realizing it, I had finished my dinner, including the fresh baked bread and canned peaches.  The meal was nothing compared to what the Oranges made, but it was good, stick-to-your-ribs food, just like back on the farm.  Really, the only thing money gave the Oranges was the ability to put fresh food on the table in winter.

“Now you girls get washed up.  We don’t want any red stains around your mouth when we take pictures!” Apple Seed said.

I groaned.  Families.





“So what are we going to do today to get our Cutie Marks?” Apple Bloom asked the next day.

“Art gallery first, and then let’s check out the marketplace, and finally Central Park!  We could go ice skating, and there are tons of other things to do.”

“Ugh.  Art gallery?” Scootaloo said.

“Sorry, girls.  Mom insists we do something cultural-like,” Babs said.

“Maybe we could get our cutie marks in art appreciation?” Sweetie Belle suggested.

“And just what would that look like?” Apple Bloom commented.

“It’s not important.  Just do it because you’re in Manehattan, and there are lots of museums,” Babs said.  “You didn’t complain when we played hoofball yesterday.”

“But hoofball is fun!” Scootaloo said.

“I think seeing some art would be nice,” I said.  “It’s true; it’s not something we get a chance to do back home, so let’s make it an experience to remember.”

Remember.  Did I like art?  Had I seen the museums of Manehattan and Canterlot in the past?  Was there fine art in my old home, the one I no longer remembered?  The Silvers and the Oranges both had some art in their homes.  Did I?

By this time, the girls had moved on, listening to Babs Seed talk about all the things to do in Central Park.





After some talking, Babs’s parents called us to breakfast.  Short Order had managed to fill the table with a big bowl of scrambled eggs and a plate stacked with buttered toast.  We still made short work of the food.

After breakfast, we five fillies departed.  It was nice to be by ourselves, without annoying little brothers tagging along.  Of course, we weren’t actually alone.  Applejack served as our chaperone.  For now, she was staring at a page of mouthwritten directions from Aunt Short Order, comparing them to the street signs and landmarks.

“And just where is this museum supposed to be?” Applejack asked Babs.

They conferred over the note.  “We need to be two streets over,” Babs said, pointing to her left.

Soon, we found the Manehattan Museum of Art, and went to buy tickets.  “Five foals and one adult, please,” Applejack requested.  Tickets in hoof, we entered.

“Now, the weather team will have the clouds cleared by about one o’clock in the afternoon, so let’s plan on touring the museum until lunchtime,” Applejack said.

“We still won’t get to see everything.  This place is huge!” Babs said.

The museum was organized with several wings.  We went first to the one labeled Modern Art.  Looking around, I noticed the six of us were equally confused.

“What is that?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“It looks like somepony spilled paint on the ground!” Apple Bloom said.

“I bet I could make that!” Scootaloo asserted.

“If you want to try being Cutie Mark Crusader artists tonight, we have some paint in the basement,” Babs suggested.

“‘This piece captures the ebb and flow of time and its interaction on each of our memories,’” Applejack read from the piece’s description.  “Now just what in tarnation does that mean?”

Time and memories.  Intrigued by the description, I stared at the work again.  But no, all I could see was random splatters of paint.

I pulled out the museum’s brochure.  “Maybe we should start with the classical art wing,” I suggested.

The classical art wing was much more what I expected when I heard we were going to an art museum.  These paintings were amazing examples of what talented ponies could do with oil paints.  I don’t know how, but these artists managed to capture the equine form perfectly.  It was if they illustrated the skeleton and the muscles first, rather than just painting the hide and coat on the surface.  And the eyes!  Somehow, the classical artists captured an incredible variety of emotions in their subjects.  Joy.  Sorrow.  Curiosity.  Mystery.

A few of these pieces were familiar to me.  I recognized their names; they were particularly famous works of art.  But had I seen them before?  Like, in a museum, not just a reproduction?

I shook my head and caught up with my family and friends.  We were on to the next exhibit, ancient Roaman sculpture.

All in all, the museum was a nice trip.  I think if we were forced to speak the truth, we all would have to admit that we had enjoyed it.  But still, our fidgeting by the time lunch rolled around showed that it was time to do something else.

Babs suggested pizza for lunch.  Stopping in a nearby pizza parlor, we soon had plates with thin slices of really greasy pizza.

“This is pizza?” Sweetie Belle said.

“Yeah, that’s how we like it in Manehattan!” Babs said.  She folded her slice in half, holding it between her hooves as orange grease dripped onto the plate below.

I shrugged and imitated Babs’s gestures, hoping to make my lunch a little healthier.  Afterward, I lifted the greasy pizza to my mouth.  Hot gooey cheese, tomatoes, and spices assaulted my mouth.  Five minutes later, I had grease-covered empty plate, and was trying desperately to clean the grease out of my fetlocks with a napkin.

What can I say?  Even when pizza is bad, it’s still pretty good.





“And you’ve just got to see this place!  There are tons of ponies selling everything you could think of!”  Babs continued to describe the open-air marketplace with enthusiasm as she led us onward.

Applejack, being a veteran of Ponyville’s market, was intrigued, an interest only noticeable if you looked at the way she raised her eyebrows.  And we all had a few bits to spend.

Turning, we found it.  Marketplace just didn’t describe this sight.  Rather than an open space, like in Ponyville, we were on a broad street.  The buildings lining the street had shops.  The sidewalks held merchants, selling out of kiosks, carts, even old blankets covered in goods.  The center of the street held more merchants, small cafes, and street performers.  Narrow lanes on each side, wide enough for a carriage but not much wider, separated this central area from the street.

There was so much for sale!  Coffee and tea.  Popcorn, nuts, and pretzels.  Photographs and artwork.  Toys and souvenirs.  Candles and oils.  Honey, preserves, and pickled fruit.  And some sellers had a random selection of goods, probably selling used items.

I listened in as a buyer and seller haggled fiercely. The buyer was a tall earth pony stallion, and appeared to be using his size as a negotiation tool, but the unicorn seller wasn’t intimidated.  Still, the buyer talked the seller down from twenty-two bits to seventeen over a fairly lengthy negotiation.  It was a fascinating exchange.  I leaned around, trying to see what it was they were haggling over, but Applejack pulled me away before I could see.

“I think there’s some souvenirs over here you might be interested in,” she said.

The kiosk Applejack pointed me to held a variety of small hoofcrafted items, pictures, and postcards.  Any of these items would fit nicely on a dresser or shelf.  Our home had a number of these kinds of items, but I think they were all from family.

I eventually decided on a postcard showing the Manehattan skyline.  The tall buildings were the first thing I noticed about the cities, so that was the memory I chose to keep with this keepsake.

For some reason, the haggling I had witnessed stuck in my mind.  A lot of the used items could be bought new at Barnyard Bargains, without the hassle and haggling.  “Hey, Babs?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the deal with all the used items for sale?  Wouldn’t it be easier to shop at Barnyard Bargains?” I asked.

Babs shrugged.  “I don’t think there’s one in town.”

That made me flush with anger, but only briefly.  My store, my family’s heritage, not in the biggest city in Equestria?  But that was ridiculous.  I’m sure we’ll get there soon.  Perhaps that was something I could discuss with Legal Plan.

Soon, we all left the marketplace, each with a souvenir, and Applejack carrying a big bag of caramel corn for us to share.  Babs was bouncing around in excitement.  “I can’t wait to show you Central Park!”

It made sense to me that an earth pony city like Manehattan, even one so large that they built buildings as high as thirty stories to maximize the use of space, would have a park.  We felt Central Park before we could see it.  There was the smell of pine trees, and just the sense of nature calling to me.  I wondered if Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo could feel it too, given that they weren’t earth ponies.

I snapped back to attention, realizing Babs was in the middle of an exposition about all the features of Central Park.  “...and the flowers are really cool, too, but we can’t see them during the winter.  But all the Hearth’s Warming decorations are still up, and we can see them everywhere in the park.  But the best part of Central Park in winter is right here!”

Oh, no.

Babs brought us to an outdoor ice rink, where ponies in colorful coats and scarves were skating.  Most looked happy, effortlessly gliding in circles around the rink, but quite a few looked rather unsteady on their hooves.

Have I ever ice skated before?  Would I remember how?  Could I still do it, with my weakened legs?

I remained lost in my thoughts until Applejack draped four skates, tied with their straps, over my neck.  The others were already putting their hooves into their rented skates.

“Have you ever skated before?” I asked Applejack.

“Sure have,” she replied.  “Before I got big enough to pull the plows, I was on the icebreaking team for Winter Wrap-Up.  Plus, Apple Bloom and I go sometimes when the pond’s frozen over.  You worried, sugarcube?”

“I don’t know if I can skate,” I said.

She slapped me on the back.  “You won’t know until you try.  Let’s get you to the ice.”

After donning my skates and tightening the straps, I followed the group, awkwardly taking small steps with the blades turned at an angle.  Soon, the shimmering white surface was in front of me.  I took one step....

I wobbled a bit, but soon found my balance.  I pushed one foreleg forward, paired with a shift of the opposing hind leg.  I moved forward a little.  I repeated the move with the other pair of legs.  I felt my speed increase slightly.  One hoof slipped.  I shifted by balance, compensating.

By the time I completed my first circuit of the rink, I realized that I did know how to skate, even if I didn’t remember learning how.

Scootaloo rushed past me, using her wings to propel her around the rink at a faster speed than mere legs would allow.  Meanwhile, Apple Bloom and Babs were still near the entrance, trying to help Sweetie Belle, who was currently sprawled on the ice.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’ve never skated before,” she admitted.

“But I thought you said Rarity took you to the pond!” Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie Belle sighed.  “Yes, she has, but all she ever does is show off whatever scarf or jacket she’s wearing.  She never skates, and she sure hasn’t taught me!”

“Then we’re going to help you.  You’ll get an ice skating cutie mark for sure!” Babs said encouragingly.

We took turns, two of us skating slowly on either side of Sweetie Belle.  She slipped quite often, and we weren’t always fast enough to catch her before falling to the ice, four legs akimbo.

I reached down after one of Sweetie Belle’s spills.  She looked rather depressed.  I gave her a friendly nuzzle.  “Look, Sweetie Belle, even if you don’t get a cutie mark, you’ll get a bunch of funny stories to tell in the clubhouse!”

She looked a little happier as I helped her to her hooves.  “I guess.”

Apple Bloom skated up next to her.  “We won’t leave until you can make it around the rink!”

“Now you slow down!” I heard Applejack shout.  Given the orange blur that passed just at the edge of my field of vision, she must have been shouting at Scootaloo.  The mare put her strong legs into each stroke, but catching Scootaloo seemed a hopeless proposition.

Babs and Apple Bloom were now skating alongside Sweetie Belle, so I had the chance to observe the surroundings.  In particular, Scootaloo was making her presence known.  She had gone from merely skating fast to doing stunts, jumps and twists.  I noticed a pegasus colt of around our age, who appeared to be in unofficial competition with my pegasus friend.

I skated up to Scootaloo when she was taking a rest.  “So who’s your coltfriend?” I teased.

“He’s not!” she replied defensively.  “He’s just the only pony fast enough to maybe keep up with me!”  Although I knew she had a competitive spirit, there was a hint of red in her cheeks that suggested that maybe, I was right.  It was too bad she’d probably never see the colt again.

“You know, I think Sweetie Belle could use some encouragement,” I suggested.

By this time, it looked like Sweetie Belle was able to skate around the rink without falling, but she still moved slower than the other skaters.  Scootaloo joined her, and when Apple Bloom joined her sister, I paired up with Babs.

“Are you having fun?” I asked.

“Heck, yeah!” she replied.  “This is about the only good thing about winter.  Knocking snow out of your fetlocks every day sucks, but at least there’s skating.”

“So how would you feel about a nice fast lap around the ring?”

“You’re on!” Babs replied.

Babs had been by Sweetie Belle’s side most of the time, so she was happy to skate faster.  I followed, feeling my body sway left and right with each stride.  Babs turned out to be a pretty good skater, and I had no chance.  And following three laps, I felt the muscles in my hind legs burning.

“I think that’s enough,” I called to Babs.

“Yeah, I guess you learned not to challenge a native Manehattanite!”  Babs surveyed the rink. “And speaking of racing....”

It looked like Scootaloo was encouraging Sweetie Belle to skate faster.  She stayed even with her, not using her wings or even her full strength.  And Sweetie Belle looked to be enjoying it, until the moment she tilted too far to the right, overcompensated, and slipped to the ice.  She slid into a pair of ponies, knocking them to the ice.

Babs and I skated over to Sweetie Belle.  Scootaloo soon recovered from her surprise and followed.  Finally, the Apples headed to the scene of the disaster.

“Are you all right, Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo asked.

“Ugh.  Yeah,” Sweetie Belle replied, shaking her head.  “I don’t think I’m the pony you should be worried about.”

Babs and I moved over to help the other fallen ponies, a middle-aged earth pony mare and a slightly younger earth pony stallion.  “Thanks,” the mare said as she got to her hooves.

Then the mare did a double take, staring at me.  “Diamond Tiara?” she asked.

I stared at her.  “Do you... know me?”  I took in her appearance: sapphire blue coat, two-toned silver and cyan mane, and a cutie mark of a gleaming white crown.  She was wearing a nice cream-colored sweater and matching scarf.  I searched my memory, thinking back to old photographs.  Nothing.  In the end, all I could do was stare blankly at her.

“Of course!  It’s been years, hasn’t it?” she said.

Maybe it has.  I didn’t remember.  By this time, Applejack skated up to me, positioning herself protectively in front of me.  “Is something the matter here?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing, just a little spill, nothing anypony hasn’t experienced in the past,” she replied.  “I just wanted to talk to Diamond Tiara after our chance meeting.”

“And you are?” Applejack asked suspiciously.

“Crystal Crown.  Her aunt,” she explained.

Applejack glanced at me.  I gave her a look that I hope translated as “I don’t know.”

“Well I’m Applejack, Diamond Tiara’s guardian.  And as I’m sure you don’t know, Diamond Tiara has been through a lot lately.”

Crystal Crown hung her head.  “I know.  When I heard about... the accident, it struck me just how selfish I was.”  She turned to me.  “I don’t want my differences with your father to stop me from knowing you.  Are you living here now?”

“No, I’m...” I started.

“Look, Miss Crystal Crown, if you want to keep in touch, why don’t you give us your address?  We’ve got to get going.  Got lots to do,” Applejack said, looking away.  “Come on, girls,”

“Sure, let me get you that address,” Crystal Crown said.  She skated off.  By the time we all left the rink, Crystal Crown had returned, a business card in her mouth.  She offered it to me.

I took it and looked it over.  The card was for some form of art studio, and she wrote her home address on the back.  “Thank you,” I said.

“Please write,” she replied.

We returned our skates and departed.  “Let’s go see the rest of the park!” Babs shouted.

An energetic group of fillies, some still trying to get used to walking again, took off.  I lagged behind, allowing me to speak to Applejack.  “What was that about?” I asked.

“I skated over because I thought you might be in trouble.  I’d do that for all my kin,” Applejack said.  “Do you know that mare?” she asked.

“Um... yes and no,” I said.  “I didn’t recognize her, and don’t think she was in any of my old pictures.  But Granny Smith said Crystal Crown was the name of my aunt, and the cutie mark matched the name.”

“Well, as sure as I’m the Element of Honesty, she was telling the truth,” Applejack said.

“Then why did you pull me away from her?”

Applejack paused, grinding her hoof into the ground.  Her expression showed some discomfort over being caught.  But true to her Element, she replied truthfully.  “It’s just that there was something I didn’t like about her.  Something not honest, though I couldn’t put my hoof on it.”  She draped a foreleg over my withers and pulled me close.  “But family is important, even the family you don’t particularly care for.  If you want to connect with your blood relatives, you have my blessing.”

I nodded.  I think I’d like that.





We returned to the Seeds’ home that evening, just in time for another large dinner.  And we needed it.  We did a lot, made a lot of memories, but still didn’t find our cutie marks.  All in all, another typical crusade.

Babs remembered our discussions at the museum, and took us into the basement after dinner.  After some digging, she found a box with some old art supplies.

“Sorry it’s not much,” Babs said sheepishly.  Under the light of the lanterns, we surveyed a variety of brushes, and watercolor and tempera paints.  “We don’t have any easels or canvas, so I guess I’ll find some paper, and we can use the worktables.”

I chose the watercolors and set up a space on a worktable.  I chewed the brush as I thought about what to draw.  Perhaps one of the nicer homes I saw in Manehattan?

I pictured in my mind a stately manor, nestled among trees and hedges.  I started with broad strokes, capturing the lines of the house, then added browns and deep greens to outline the vegetation.

As far as social activities go, painting is a pretty poor choice, as it’s hard to talk with a brush in your mouth.  That didn’t stop Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle from having a conversation about that colt Scootaloo was challenging at the ice rink.  The foalish taunt “Scootaloo’s got a coltfriend” was clear, paintbrush in mouth or no.  Scootaloo grumbled, and attacked her painting with yet another color of tempera paint.

“How’s everypony doing?” Babs said.

“Almost done, just needs to be cooler,” Scootaloo quickly replied.

“I just can’t get it right,” Sweetie Belle moaned.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Apple Bloom said.

“I still feel like I have a lot to do,” I said.

We continued to paint, but before long, somepony finished.

“Done!” Scootaloo shouted, spitting out her brush with one final flourish.

“Let’s see what we have so far,” Babs suggested.

We first checked out Scootaloo’s finished painting.  I first noticed the six colors of paint at her station, so I wasn’t surprised by her subject.  “It’s Rainbow Dash doing a sonic rainboom!” she said.

“Pretty good job,” I said.  I knew painting ponies was particularly challenging, and she captured a pegasus in flight pretty well.  But the rainboom just looked like a splash of paint on the page.

“Well, I do have a lot of experience studying my subject,” she said.

“I’m trying to paint the Carousel Boutique, but it’s not working,” Sweetie Belle said.  We checked it out.  The cylindrical building was misshapen, and anypony who hadn’t seen the building before wouldn’t be able to identify the carousel ponies she had painted.

“I tried painting us at the seven-legged race,” Babs told Apple Bloom.

“Did you really have to paint us after we fell?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Well, we did spend a lot of time in the dirt,” Babs said.  Speaking of dirt, it was on her painting, but the perspective was off.  They looked more like they were flying than fallen.

“So let’s see yours, Diamond Tiara,” Apple Bloom said.

I looked at my painting, really looking at the details I had been adding to the building.  Now that I thought about it, they weren’t features of some building in Manehattan.  This painting looked a lot more like my old home in Ponyville, the one I had stared at when I visited Silver Spoon.  “I painted a building, but it ended up looking like my family’s old home,” I said.

“Got family on your mind?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I guess.  Now what about yours?” I replied.

We finally checked out Apple Bloom’s painting, again a painting of a building.  It was the barn, but the focus was on the freshly plowed field in the foreground.  “I guess I had the spring planting on my mind,” she said.

“That’s pretty good,” I said.  She really captured perspective in her painting, an aspect I utterly failed at.  And it makes sense she would paint the home that means so much to her.  Her home.  Our home.

I stared at the picture, in particular the field, as I stood in the Seeds’ basement.  What metaphorical seeds was I planting in the tilled field that was my new life?  What would bloom for me in this new year?

> Chapter 17: Letters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 17: Letters





Silver Spoon
The Meadowfield School
14 Meadow Lane
Canterlot, P.E.


Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


January 2, 1478 AC


Dear Diamond Tiara,


How was your trip?  I’m back in Canterlot after a depressingly short holiday break.  Even though it’s only a week after Hearth’s Warming, the decorations at my school have already been taken down.  Seeing them over the last month improved my spirits, but now everything is gray again.

I said I’d help you remember your past, and taking the train back to Canterlot reminded me of something from our past, our first trip to Canterlot together.  It wasn’t long after I moved in next to you.  It was us, my parents, and your parents.  We were maybe six years old.  The adults were so busy with their “adult conversations” that they weren’t paying attention to us.  We sneaked away and hid on a small dining cart, concealed by the tablecloth.  We sat there, giggling, for nearly fifteen minutes before we heard the frantic pleas of our mothers!

Okay, being sent to bed at five o’clock PM wasn’t fun, but hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time, right?

Maybe it was a good idea.  I remember your father and my mother taking the time to talk to us on later train trips.  I don’t think we ever got in trouble like that again... on a train, at least!

I have to cut this letter off.  It’s getting late, and I still need to read three chapters in my ancient Equestrian history textbook before school tomorrow.  I promise to keep writing.


Your friend,


Silver Spoon





I folded up Silver Spoon’s letter and placed it in a notebook.  The letter was waiting for me when I returned from Manehattan, and this was my third time reading it.  I still didn’t remember that trip.  It sounded like fun, just being two little fillies making mischief.  It was nice of our parents to recognize what every foal wants, to be treated like an adult once in a while.

School in Ponyville started a week after Silver Spoon’s boarding school.  In fact, it started this morning.  Celestia’s sun had not yet risen, but I was up for an important reason.

It was time to share my Hearth’s Warming gift for Apple Bloom.

“Just five more minutes,” she mumbled as I nudged her.  She was used to rising with the sun, but we were restricted by the clock today, and because it was winter, that meant rising before dawn.

“Get up.  It’s time to work out!” I said.

“What?” Apple Bloom muttered.

“We’re going to spend the morning making you as strong as your sister!”

“Ugh.”  Apple Bloom finally opened her eyes, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and walked out of the bedroom.  I heard the water running in the bathroom, and when Apple Bloom returned afterward, she looked much more alert.

“So where are we going?” Apple Bloom asked.

“It’s outside of the center of town,” I said.  It’s about the same distance from the town center as my lawyer’s office, but further north.  “It’s probably best if I just show you.”

I led Apple Bloom to Snowflake’s gym, a large nondescript stone building.  Inside the door was a small reception area, where I saw a young stallion, the one I had spoken to in order to buy our memberships.  We both showed him our cards, and he led us inside the gymnasium.  “Snowflake, your new members, Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara, are here!” he called.

My jaw dropped when I saw Snowflake.  When I bought these memberships, the young stallion was the one to show me around the gym.  I never saw Snowflake, and believe me, I would have remembered that sight.  The white pegasus stallion was almost comically muscled, with a blond mane in a buzz cut, and the tiniest wings I had ever seen.  “YEAH!” he yelled; both Apple Bloom and I flinched.  “Welcome to Snowflake’s Gym,” he continued, quieter.  “Are you ready to work out?”

“I guess, but what do we do?” Apple Bloom said.

“New to the gym?  Then tell me what you want to get out of working out!”

“I want to buck apples,” Apple Bloom said.  When Snowflake didn’t respond, she demonstrated, planting her front hooves and lifting her rear legs before kicking.

“All right!  We’ll build muscles in your hind legs and core, but we won’t forget those forelegs!” Snowflake said.

“What I’m looking for is a continuation of some physical therapy I did,” I said.  “I worked with weights, walked on a treadmill, and did step exercises.  I need to rebuild my endurance and especially the strength in my hind legs.”

“And we can do that,” Snowflake responded, a bit less intense in his response to me.  Louder, he said “Let’s see what you’ve got!”  He motioned to a machine I was familiar with, one used lift weights with one’s hind legs.

I walked over and rested my barrel on the bench.  Snowflake secured my hooves into the lifts.  I heard the sound of metal on metal as he adjusted the weights attached by pulleys to the lifts.  “Ready,” he said.

I pushed, but nothing happened.  “Please, start with a lot less,” I said, looking back at him.  He looked somewhat sympathetic as he adjusted the weights again.  I was able to move the weights a little, but he stopped me before I continued.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Snowflake cautioned.

With one final adjustment, he found a weight at which I could complete ten reps.  He brought Apple Bloom to the bench, and after assessing her, immediately doubled the weight.  After two pulls, he added another plate.

“That’s pretty good for a filly of your age!” Snowflake said.

“But it’s not good enough!” Apple Bloom whined.  “I want to buck apples now!”

“Then we’ll get you there.  YEAH!”  Snowflake yelled.

Afterward, Snowflake got his young assistant to continue testing Apple Bloom, Snowflake focused on my needs.  He tested me on the treadmill, had me do bench presses with my forelegs, and finally took me to a track along the edge of the room.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Here’s where you’re going to get a full body workout.  This is the sledge!”

I looked at what Snowflake called the sledge.  It was just an oval platform, capable of holding a variable amount of weight.  Rope connected it to a harness.

Other than aesthetics, it looked like the yokes my family used on the farm.

Snowflake secured the yoke and encouraged me to pull.  He had a pretty good idea of how much weight I could pull now; the sledge was a struggle to pull, but I was able to get it moving.  Snowflake encouraged me, using a gentler tone than he used on Apple Bloom.  And with his encouragement, I pulled the sledge all the way around the track.





“Why is it taking so long to walk to school?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I think it’s actually shorter from here than it is from the farmhouse,” I said.  But with the burning sensations we both felt in our leg muscles, I understood how the walk felt longer.

Getting inside the schoolhouse and sitting down was a welcome relief.  But seeing Silver Spoon’s empty desk reminded me about the letter I needed to write to her.





Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


Silver Spoon
The Meadowfield School
14 Meadow Lane
Canterlot, P.E.


January 10, 1478 AC


Dear Silver Spoon,


Thank you for writing so quickly.  I appreciate your assistance in helping me recover my memories.  I’m afraid I don’t recall the trip you wrote about in your letter, but it sure sounded like fun!  Even if it didn’t trigger any of my past memories, reading your letter helped me learn a little more about you and my father.

I’m working on my physical recovery as well.  There’s a gym in town, and I’m going to be working on strength training and endurance.  I’ve brought Apple Bloom with me.  She is determined to get strong enough to applebuck with her family.  As for me, I’ll be lucky to ever get as strong as I was before the accident.

I’m not sure why Apple Bloom is so focused on getting stronger.  Maybe it will help her feel more like an adult, like the way we felt when our parents started talking to us like adults.  Or maybe she thinks that will help her get her cutie mark.  None of the Crusaders have their cutie marks, but then again, neither do I.  I’ve been on some of their crusades.  Really, they seem more like an excuse to have fun with friends than a serious attempt at discovering their special talents.  I wish I could remember more about how I got my cutie mark in leadership.  Can you tell me some more stories?

And please stay strong for me.  Show those Canterlot snobs that you’re better than they are!


Your friend,


Diamond Tiara





That reminded me; there was another pony I wanted to write to.





Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


Crystal Crown
588 East 12th Street, Apartment 208
Manehattan, P.E.


January 10, 1478 AC


Dear Aunt Crystal Crown,


Greetings from quiet Ponyville.   It’s especially quiet, being on a farm in winter, with only the occasional howl of a timber wolf breaking the silence.  (Don’t worry, everypony says the timber wolves rarely leave the Everfree Forest.)  From what little I know, you probably don’t know much about what happened to me, beyond my father’s passing.  So I’ll use this letter to explain what I know.

My father died in a carriage accident, along with the two ponies pulling the carriage.  I barely survived, spending months in a coma before waking up.  It took time to learn to walk again and use my hooves.  In some ways, I’m still in recovery.

In particular, I don’t remember anything from before I woke up in the hospital.  I don’t remember my father, my other relatives, or my friends.  It’s strange; I know things, facts like the names of cities and the math and grammar I must have learned in school, but there are no personal connections left in my mind.  But my guardian has taught me that family is important, so I’m eager to talk with you, to build new connections.  So tell me anything.  What kind of art do you make?  How do you like Manehattan?  Are you married?

I’ve also heard that my father didn’t get along well with you, or with his brother.  If that ever showed up in my interactions with you, I apologize.  My life is a clean slate now, and I’m hoping to build a fresh relationship with my family.

I’m living with the Apple family of Ponyville, a family with roots in this town as deep as my family.  You can write me at the return address on the envelope.  Please write back!


Your niece,


Diamond Tiara





I folded up this letter and placed it in an envelope.  I was afraid that none of these letters would help me regain my memories, but I was still going to try.  If nothing else, I’d build friendships, and writing letters like this was improving my mouthwriting.






Silver Spoon
The Meadowfield School
14 Meadow Lane
Canterlot, P.E.


Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


January 24, 1478 AC


Dear Diamond Tiara,


Bump, bump, sugar lump, rump!  That’s our special greeting.  When I visited you at Sweet Apple Acres, I noticed you didn’t remember it.  So I wanted to tell you about how we came up with it.

We were around seven years old.  We were in the garden behind your house, having a tea party.  It was the two of us, a few dolls, and an imaginary Princess Celestia.  Yes, yes, I know, but we had an excuse.  We were seven years old.

Anyway, we both reached for the sugar at the same time, and we bumped our hooves together.  You laughed and said “Bump”.  Not tolerating being bumped, I returned the bump, and repeated the word.  And then, since we were over the bowl with the sugar lumps, you pointed and said “Sugar lump!”  And then I said the first rhyming word that came to my mind, “Rump”, and added it to the saying, punctuating it with a little bump from our rumps.

Right after we picked ourselves up off the ground and calmed our laughter, we knew we had a good thing.  With a bit of practice, we adapted the greeting to be used while standing, and ever since, we’ve greeted each other in that manner.

It may be silly.  Strike that.  It is silly.  But it’s something we came up with, something of our own, and I treasure that memory.  Can you picture the garden?  There was honeysuckle blooming, the fountain was burbling as it always did, and we had to shoo flies away with our tails.  But the best thing in the garden that day was you and me.

Sometimes, I feel like the fillies and colts at The Meadowfield have their own special greetings.  I don’t know if it’s old friendships, pony cultural societies, or just shared experiences of being Canterlot nobility.  Whatever it is, I don’t speak the language.  Every day, I feel like you did that cold December day.

I’m doing well in school.  We’ve already had a variety of quizzes and exams, and I’ve done well on each.  I’m not top of the class, but I get A’s and the occasional B plus.  I still don’t have any close friends here.  I can work together with other ponies in class, but I don’t know how to talk to them outside of class.  That was always your talent.  

You asked me to tell you more about how you discovered your talent.  I find myself having a hard time coming up with a good story.  It’s just one of those things you know, but it’s hard to describe, if you know what I mean.  I do sort of wish you were here with me.  Then, I could help you every day.

I won’t be back until summer, unfortunately.  Until then, I promise to write.


Your friend,


Silver Spoon 





Without being there, it’s hard for me to offer help to Silver Spoon.  She’s confident that knowing ponies is my talent.  I’d have to think if there was something I could do to help her.





A few days later, I got a response from my aunt.  It was a rather thick envelope.  Photographs and newspaper clippings fell out of the envelope.  I decided to read the letter first.





Crystal Crown
588 East 12th Street, Apartment 208
Manehattan, P.E.


Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


January 28, 1478 AC


Dear Diamond Tiara,


First, I want to ease your concerns.  We had a wonderful relationship; you were always happy to see your Auntie come visit.  Your father, despite his differences with me and Golden Sky, always treated us civilly when the family came together, and as near as I could tell, he never shared his true opinion of us with you.

I also have to admit that it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.  We both came to town for your mother’s funeral.  She was always a joy to be around, and hosted parties for most of the holidays.  You and your father did not deserve to lose that wonderful mare.

Unfortunately, it was your mother who kept us together as a family.  We expected some silence as Filthy Rich grieved, but he never wrote to us again.  Selfishly, our only contact with you was cards for your birthday.

It’s been four years since I’ve seen you, and I think four years since your uncle has seen you as well.  I should be able to tell you about the fine mare you were growing up to be in the months before your accident, but I can’t, and for that, I’m sorry.  But please tell me about your life now.

As for me, I’m an artist, and have been living in Manehattan, art capital of Equestria, since not long after getting my cutie mark.  I first worked with my beloved crystal, designing many beautiful pieces, but in time, I grew tired with the scene.  There was nothing else to say with crystal, and art demands to be heard.  I’ve worked in more avant-garde art, where the message is more important than the media.  My gallery is the talk of trendy art circles, and I’ve received a number of awards for my work.  I’ve included some pictures and articles to give you an idea of my work.

I’m single, with no special somepony to speak of, but Manehattan is the best city for singles.  I’ll spare you the details, though.  Maybe when you’re a little older!

I would love to show you my Manehattan, the city I love so much.  I know your responsibilities may not allow that, and you should make those your priority, but if you’re ever free to visit Manehattan, I would be happy to host you.


Your aunt,


Crystal Crown 





The photographs and newspaper articles discussed Crystal Crown’s latest endeavors in art.  I wrinkled my nose.  They looked like those modern art exhibits that made no sense to me.  The articles indicated that a lot of influential ponies approved of her work, and for that I was glad.  Still, I couldn’t see the attraction in her art.  I idly wondered what her old pieces looked like.





Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


Crystal Crown
588 East 12th Street, Apartment 208
Manehattan, P.E.


February 4, 1478 AC


Dear Aunt Crystal Crown,


For several days, I pondered how to respond to your letter.  You wanted to hear about me, but what is there to tell?  I’m just a schoolfilly, one without her cutie mark at that.  But then I thought about my classmates.  What story could I say about them?  Not much, that’s for sure.  You wanted to hear about me, so I’ll respond, but please remember that my life won’t be as interesting as yours.

I live with the Apples now, a good, hardworking earth pony family.  Our family has a business relationship with the Apples for generations, so I’m sure you remember them.  My own relation with the family member of my age was pretty poor, but they welcomed me as family regardless. You may have heard of my guardian Applejack, known now as the Element of Honesty.  From what I’ve seen of her, she was an honest mare long before the Elements were recovered.  I can see why my father respected their family.

I share a room with Apple Bloom, who I once treated poorly.  I think we’ve reconciled, mostly, but sometimes I’m not sure.  Our friends include Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, and together we’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, perpetually in search of our cutie marks.  While I don’t remember it, I have photographs that show me with a cutie mark, which I lost when I lost my memories.  It’s a rather unusual situation.  In any case, we Crusaders are a club, doing the craziest things in search of our cutie marks.  I don’t think we’ve tried working with crystal.  Maybe you have some tips?

I go to school.  Our teacher, Cheerilee, is highly respected as a teacher.  I do chores on the farm.  There’s a limit as to what I can do, due to my injuries.  It feels bad not to be able to contribute equally.  Deep down, I know I’m not likely to stay on the farm.  I have Barnyard Bargains to consider.  But it’s awkward not knowing if that’s my special talent.

Thank you for keeping in touch.  I like hearing your tales about Manehattan.  It’s so different from Ponyville!  I’d like to hear more.


Your niece,


Diamond Tiara 





A few days later, I found myself putting off my homework by rereading some of these letters.  I stared at Crystal Crown’s photos again.  In each, she wore a different outfit, with different jewelry.  I think my favorite was that silver and sapphire necklace.

I wonder....





Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


Silver Spoon
The Meadowfield School
14 Meadow Lane
Canterlot, P.E.


February 10, 1478 AC


Dear Silver Spoon,


What would inspire a wealthy pony to wear silver jewelry?  Imagine you had the money to buy any jewelry you wanted, any precious metal, any gemstone.  Why would you wear silver if you could wear platinum?  It’s a question I came up with after looking at some photographs of a wealthy pony.

I imagine there’s somepony at your school who isn’t wearing the finest jewelry money can buy.  Why don’t you try asking them about their story?  Does that piece of jewelry have a special significance to them?  Perhaps you’ll find somepony who loves silver, and that would be one way to build a friendship, and a future business relationship.  Or perhaps they just want to share their story, if you’re willing to listen.  It’s not just jewelry; the same story could be extracted from their clothes or accessories.

I hope you can find somepony willing to be as good a friend as I once was.


Your friend,


Diamond Tiara





“More!  Yeah!”

As winter continued, the mornings at Snowflake’s gym started to blur together.  This morning, I pulled my sledge as I watched the giant pegasus inspiring Apple Bloom with his demands.  I found his tone of voice intimidating the first time he used it on me, but Apple Bloom ate it up.  Apple Bloom kicked a hanging sandbag with her rear hooves, sweating profusely, but determined to punish the inanimate object.

“If there were apples on the tree, they would be neatly lined up in buckets.  YEAH!” Snowflake yelled.  “Now take a breather.”

Snowflake trotted up to me as I breathed heavily, my flanks lathered with sweat.  “Are you feeling the burn, Diamond Tiara?” he said, gentler than he spoke to Apple Bloom.

I grunted.  “I’m keeping up, but it feels like I’m not making any progress,” I said.

“Have you ever looked behind you?”

I looked behind me.  I didn’t notice before, but the pile of weights on the sledge looked larger.

“You’re pulling another eighty pounds,” he said.  “Now let’s switch to weights.”

Snowflake secured my hind legs.  I noticed he pointedly kept me looking forward as he adjusted the weights.  It wasn’t until I completed another difficult rep of ten lifts that he nudged me, having me look at the weights I had lifted.

“That’s a lot more, right?” I said.

“Fifty pounds!  You should be proud of your hard work, Diamond Tiara.”

“How is Apple Bloom doing?” I wondered.

“Even better!” Snowflake responded.  “If I put that filly’s mind to something, she just won’t quit!”

I watched as Apple Bloom pivoted, kicking two sandbags in quick succession.  There’s no way Applejack would be able to say she couldn’t help on the farm this year.  She trotted over, and Snowflake set up the weight machines for her, adding another five iron plates to the load.

I sighed.  Not everypony would be able to contribute.





Winter was nearing its end, and for us earth ponies, it couldn’t happen any sooner.  The earth below us was begging to be worked.  But we still had to wait for winter to be wrapped up.  

On March 12, I received three letters.  One was another update from Silver Spoon.  It turns out that one of her classmates favored a silver horn ring, a gift from her father that held particular sentimental value.  The way Silver Spoon described it, she had finally found a friend at school.

The second was another letter from Crystal Crown, discussing another art show of hers.  More photographs and newspaper clippings greeted me.

The third letter was from an unfamiliar address.  The name was familiar.  I looked back at Crystal Crown’s letter.  I had breezed past the words on my first read, but she mentioned passing my address on to her brother, my uncle.  Sure enough, the third letter bore the name of my uncle.

My heart rate accelerated, I opened the final letter.  It was another thick letter.  I first noticed a colorful brochure fall to the table below me, showing a lodge in a snowy mountain.  Then I saw the photograph, a smiling pegasus with vibrant orange eyes, his yellow wings sticking out of winter gear consisting of goggles and a heavy down coat, standing with a snowboard tucked under his foreleg.

I opened his letter.





Golden Sky
Golden Skies Resort and Lodge
100 Jennet Lane
Jackson Colt, P.E.


Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


March 8, 1478 AC


My dear niece,


I put pen to paper as soon as I read your aunt’s letter.  I was shocked when I had learned of your father’s passing, but I am grateful to know you survived.  My sister is quite upset that it had been so long since she saw you, and my sentiments are the same.  My words won’t be as poetic as hers, though.

I share my sister’s realization that the simmering feud with your father is no reason to treat him as we did.  Although it’s been years since I returned to my hometown, I would have come in an instant to say goodbye to Filthy Rich.  And I’d like to make up for this by building a new and stronger relationship with you.  I won’t screw this up, I promise.

Your aunt says you lost your memory in an accident, so we’ll have to build new memories.  My life took me far from the quiet forests and fields of Ponyville.  I live in the mountain town of Jackson Colt.  It is where I built my first business, a snowboard resort with a name inspired by my own.  It’s not the only business I have a hoof in, but it is my first, and the one that means the most to me.  My business dealings may take me to places like Damver and Billyings during the season, but Jackson Colt is where I set down roots.

The fine mountain air, the chill breeze, the thick snow cover... it’s wonderful, at least to those ponies (and goats and donkeys) with winter in their blood.  It always makes me smile when I can share this place with vacationing ponies.  Even if they prefer to sit by the fire and drink hot chocolate, they will return to their homes with incredible memories.

Although you can’t tell from reading a letter, I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes, trying to think of what else to say.  I don’t think you want to hear me talk about all my business interests.  I’m not married, so I can’t talk about my foals.  It’s always easier to fill a conversation when you’re face to face, am I right?

So, before I commit any more crimes against paper, I’m going to wrap this up.  Please write and tell me about what’s going on in your life!


Your uncle,


Golden Sky 





Looking at the brochure, I was impressed.  Golden Skies Resort and Lodge looked like a nice place to visit, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of living there year-round.  I looked out the window at the snow-covered ground.  Soon, Winter Wrap-Up would clear the skies and melt the white snow.

That is something I could talk about.  I thought as well about some of the things I shared with Crystal Crown.  Inspired, I began to pen my response.





Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


Golden Sky
Golden Skies Resort and Lodge
100 Jennet Lane
Jackson Colt, P.E.


March 12, 1478 AC


Dear Uncle Golden Sky,


As a stallion with what many would call a dream job, my life as a schoolfilly probably won’t be very interesting.  But we need to start somewhere, so I’ll do my best not to bore you.

Yes, Aunt Crystal Crown is correct, I did lose my memories in the accident that claimed the life of my father.  I’ve mostly recovered from the physical consequences of the action, but my mind is the one thing that’s defying improvement.  Since I don’t remember our relationship, I’ll treat this like a new friendship.

I’m living with the Apples, a family I’m sure you’ve met, due to the family business and the prominence of both families in the history of Ponyville.  Right now, there’s a rising level of antsiness (is that a word?) as winter nears its end.  We’re eager to wrap it up.  There’s just so much that winter gets in the way of, like growing food and turning the ground.  It makes everything from repairing a barn to going out and playing more uncomfortable.

Speaking of playing, I have three friends, one being the youngest of the Apples.  We’re all searching for our cutie marks.   I probably shouldn’t mention you, because I don’t think we’ve tried to get snowboarding cutie marks.  When the only mountain nearby is as steep as is the one where Canterlot rests, the consequences of failing to get our cutie marks would be a lot worse than tree sap!

School is proceeding normally for me.  It’s strange how I can remember facts I learned, but not how I learned them in the first place.  It’s like everything personal was removed


I set the pen down as Apple Bloom entered the room.  She carried a large and undecorated book in her mouth, which she set on the table next to me.

“I got this for you,” she said.  “I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Thanks?” I said.

“You know, for the gym membership.  Snowflake’s really helpful, and you’re helping me get what I want most, well, second most.”

“Second most?”

“Well, first, I want my cutie mark, then I want to be strong enough to contribute on the farm, just like Applejack and Big McIntosh,” Apple Bloom said.  “And maybe this will help you get what you want most.”

“You mean second most?” I replied, smiling and wiggling my blank flank.  I opened Apple Bloom’s book, examining the large and blank pages.

“It’s a scrapbook,” Apple Bloom explained.  “I thought that if you filled it up with things, letters and pictures and souvenirs, it might help you remember something.  And you can make it all pretty and such with stickers and glitter, if you’re so inclined.”

“Thank you, Apple Bloom,” I said.  She nodded, and departed the room.

I set aside the letter I was writing.  That could wait.  Instead, I looked at some of the things I had collected in the five months after waking up.  Letters.  A postcard of the Manehattan skyline.  Pictures, both new and historical.  Even if Apple Bloom’s thoughtful gift wasn’t going to help me recover my old memories, it would help me cherish these new ones.

> Chapter 18: Vacation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 18: Vacation





“What are you going to do for Winter Wrap-Up?” Apple Bloom asked me.

“I was thinking about clearing the ice from the ponds,” I said.  “I can ice skate, and it didn’t strain me when we went skating in Manehattan.  How about you?”

“I’ve always wanted to be on the plowing and planting team, but I’m not sure if I’m big enough,” she replied.  “Maybe I need to practice with that sledge thing in the gym?”

“Why don’t you skate with me this year, and think about plowing next year?” I suggested.  “You’ll be bigger next year, too.”

“That’s true,” Apple Bloom said.  I remembered her being about my height when I woke up, but I think she was an inch taller now.  And the results of the exercises she was doing could be seen on her frame, especially in her leg muscles.

“You’re going to be as strong as your sister soon,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said.  “I can’t wait for Spring Break!” she said, changing subjects.

“Me too.  I’m looking forward to a week off to enjoy that spring weather!” I replied.

Applejack called to us from downstairs.  “Mail’s here, you two!”

We trotted downstairs.  I smiled as I saw a letter from my uncle.  Apple Bloom frowned, less enthusiastic about receiving a reminder for a doctor’s appointment.

I opened the letter and read it.  I gasped, and shared it with Apple Bloom.


Golden Sky
Golden Skies Resort and Lodge
100 Jennet Lane
Jackson Colt, P.E.


Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


March 18, 1478 AC


Dearest niece,


I am happy to hear you are recovering well, and that you have an adoptive family and friends that truly care for you.  I can remember what it was like to be young and searching for your special talent.

Personally, I think a snowboarding cutie mark would be wonderful.  Not even I have one!  And I’d like to give you the chance to earn it.  If I remember correctly, you have a spring break right after Winter Wrap-Up.  But there’s still snow on the ground in Jackson Colt for another six weeks.  I’d like to invite you and your friends and family to spend that week at my snowboard lodge.  I’ll cover all expenses, as long as you’re willing to spend some time with this old stallion.  If you’re amenable, please reply by telegraph.

I hope you will be able to make it!


Your uncle,


Golden Sky


“That’s a great idea!” Apple Bloom whispered.

“We’ve got to tell the others!” I said.  “But will Applejack let us go?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Applejack asked.

We smiled and looked at her.  “We’ve been invited to see my uncle,” I said, showing her the letter.  “Can we go?”

Applejack read the letter.  “That’s very generous of him.  It’s hard to turn down this offer.  But you know better, Apple Bloom.  It’s the first week of spring.  Neither Mac nor I can leave when there’s planting and pruning to be done,” she said.

Apple Bloom and I looked at each other, and then looked at Applejack.  We bit out lips.  Our eyes were wide and watering slightly.

Applejack facehoofed.  “Look, I don’t care how sad you look, we still can’t go.”  She thought for a moment.  “But there’s not much for you two to do.  Look, if you can find an adult we trust to chaperone you, only then you can go.”

“Yay!” we both cheered.





“This super emergency meeting of the Cutie Mark Crusaders is now in session,” Apple Bloom said.

“Is there a reason for all this secrecy?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Yeah, why can’t you just say what’s going on?” Scootaloo added.

I spread the brochure from the snowboard lodge on the floor of the clubhouse.  “We’ve been invited to spend Spring Break here.  But we can’t go unless we can find a chaperone.  Applejack and Big McIntosh are out.  We need options.”

“Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, your parents?”

Sweetie Belle shook her head.  “Mom and Dad are on their own vacation.  I’m spending the week with Rarity.”

“No go here either,” Scootaloo said.  “Dad will be busy at work.  Mom has her hooves full with my brothers, like normal.”

“Rarity?” Apple Bloom asked.

“She does not like the snow, and I don’t like carrying her twenty bags,” Sweetie Belle said.

“We could try Rainbow Dash,” Scootaloo offered.

“That’s a good idea!” I said.  “Think she’ll go for it?”

“Well, this sounds awesome, right?” Scootaloo said.





We eventually tracked down Rainbow Dash at Sugarcube Corner.  Scootaloo laid out the details of this awesome deal.  In fact, I heard her use the term “awesome” seven times in two minutes.

“You had me at the first awesome, Scoots,” Rainbow Dash said.

“So can you do it?” Scootaloo asked.

“Heck yeah!  First week of spring is a breeze for the weather team.  All anypony wants is sun and clear skies, so there’s not much work.  I can take the whole week off.”

“Yay!  Cutie Mark Crusader Snowboarders are a go!” we all screamed.





Winter Wrap-Up was a wonderful experience.  The way the entire town of Ponyville came together, singing the same song, working towards the same goal, was magical.  Despite being on my hooves all day skating, I still felt energized.

As Princess Twilight Sparkle marked the last check box on her list, Mayor Mare announced that winter was officially wrapped up.  The crowd cheered.  There was some kind of citywide celebration about to start, but we wouldn’t be participating.

Our skates stored away for the season, we gathered our bags, stuffed with sweaters, scarves, and heavy coats.  Applejack escorted us to the train station, where we met Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Rainbow Dash.

“Well, Diamond Tiara, I told you that you could go if you found a chaperone I trusted,” Applejack said.  “But I guess Dash’ll have to do.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash protested.

Applejack slapped the pegasus’ shoulder.  “Now you keep them safe and out of trouble, partner,” she said.

“Will do!” Rainbow Dash said.

The conductor called all aboard for the train to Chicacolt.  Overnight to Chicacolt, then a second train to Omahay, and one more train to Jackson Colt.  It was going to be a long trip.

We boarded the train and loaded our bags into the sleeper car.  Once that was done, Rainbow Dash stretched out on one of the bunks, lying on her back with her forelegs under her head.  She let out a loud yawn and closed her eyes.  “Don’t do anything I’d do,” she said.

And before the train had finished accelerating, Rainbow Dash was already snoring.

“Best chaperone ever!” Scootaloo said, grinning.





Despite being free to move around the train, we weren’t feeling very enthusiastic about our freedom.  Winter Wrap-Up had taken a lot out of all of us, and following dinner and some halfhearted attempts at playing games, we turned in early as well.  Sleep on the train wasn’t the most restful, and we still felt out of it as we made our way to Omahay.

After departing Omahay, the train began its slow ascent as it headed into the majestic Rocky Mountains.  The scenery was breathtaking, even distracting a group of four fillies and an action-oriented pegasus.  Halfway there, it looked as if we traveled back in time to winter.

The train finally reached its destination mid-afternoon.  We stretched and collected our bags, finally back on solid ground.  Seeing the terminal made it clear that we weren’t back in Ponyville.  About half the crowd was donkeys.  There were a significant number of goats as well.  Most of the ponies present were pegasi.  

I spotted a donkey holding a sign reading “Diamond Tiara and company”.  I got the attention of the others and headed over to him.  “Good afternoon, I’m Diamond Tiara,” I said.

The donkey nodded.  “Is your party all here?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s just the five of us.”

We followed the donkey to a waiting carriage.  It was much larger than it needed to be; I suspected ten ponies could fit in it.  I realized that in my haste to send a telegram accepting Golden Sky’s offer, I wasn’t clear about how many adults would be coming.  The donkey hitched himself to the wagon, one of a team of four, and we departed.

Climbing snowy roads, we soon reached the picturesque resort.  Valets took our bags.  Before we could ask about anything, a pegasus stallion in winter gear flew over to our group.  I saw his golden coat and his red-orange mane poking out from under his knit cap.  I recognized Golden Sky from the pictures he sent me.

“Diamond Tiara!”  Golden Sky reared and spread his forelegs, inviting me to hug him.  I did so.  Our heavy jackets made the gesture awkward.  He looked so happy to see me, but I wasn’t feeling anything.  The hug was just a movement of limbs and muscles.

“Thank you for inviting us here,” I said sincerely.  “These are my friends, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle.  And that’s Rainbow Dash.  She’s Scootaloo’s, um....”

“Honorary big sister and idol,” Rainbow Dash said.  Scootaloo’s smile showed just how much she appreciated Rainbow Dash saying that.

“It’s nice to have a national hero visit.  You didn’t bring any changelings, did you?” Golden Sky asked, laughing.

Rainbow Dash made a couple of swift punches to the air.  “If any of them followed me here, then that’s the last mistake they’ll ever make!”

“We have some light left.  Let’s get you all equipped, and we’ll hit the slopes for some practice,” Golden Sky said.

“Yeah!” we cheered.

My uncle successfully escorted a group of excited, chattering fillies to the equipment rental, where we were fitted for goggles and boots, and selected snowboards.  The vinyl boots were particularly nice, keeping the snow out of our fetlocks.  Afterward, we bypassed the lines of ponies (and other species) waiting for lifts, and instead went to a less busy area.

“Welcome to the bunny slope,” Golden Sky announced.

“Why did you name the slope after those ornery varmints?” Apple Bloom asked.

“The only bunny I know is Angel Bunny,” Sweetie Belle said.  “He’s really mean.”

“Silver Spoon told me about the aggressive rabbits of Coney Island,” I added.

Golden Sky facehoofed.  “It’s just the name for a gentle slope,” he said.  “Here you can learn the basics without being able to hurt yourselves too much.  Let’s start by examining the snowboards.”

Okay.  It’s a long board, about fifty percent longer than a pony, long with rounded edges, and something metal on top.

“You’re going to place your forehooves here,” he instructed.  “The metal pieces on your boot will lock to the board.  Slide them in like this.  To unlock, reverse the process.

“Kick off with a rear leg and let gravity do its work.  You turn by shifting your body like this.”  He demonstrated by moving his flank; it didn’t look that different from motions while skating.  “To stop, turn until the board is perpendicular to the slope.  And remember, falling down will also stop you.  It might not look graceful, but everypony does it when they start, and it’s better than losing control.”

“Pfff, looks easy,” Rainbow Dash said.  She kicked off and headed down the slope.

“Wait!” Golden Sky called.

Rainbow Dash picked up speed, but looked unsteady as she moved.  To compensate, she lifted her wings.  But rather than controlling her movement, as her wings would have done were she flying, she left the slope, ending up airborne, with her snowboard still attached to her forehooves.  

“You don’t want to flare your wings.  You’ll end up in the air, dragging your snowboard with you,” Golden Sky said.

We watched as the wind caught the snowboard, pushing it perpendicular to the ground, and causing Rainbow Dash to get knocked backwards.  She landed on her back in the snow, kicking up a lot of powder.

“And then that will happen.”

“I’m fine!” the snow-covered pony yelled.

Once Rainbow Dash returned, shaking snow from her mane, Golden Sky continued.  “For us pegasi, fighting our instincts is the hardest part of snowboarding.  Keep your wings tucked in, and move only by shifting your body.  Now let’s practice.”  He pointed to Rainbow Dash’s crash site.  “Head toward that mark, then turn to the left to go around it, and then turn to the right to straighten out, and finally end by coming to a stop.”

Our first practice was not an auspicious one.  Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and I all ended up falling at some point.  Only Scootaloo seemed to grasp the mechanics of snowboarding, and even she started by taking it slow.  With Golden Sky’s encouragement, we got back up, and kept trying until we could make it down the slight slope most of the time without falling.

By this time, the sky was darkening, and the shadows we cast on the snow were comically misshapen.  “I think that’s enough for today,” Golden Sky said.  “Let’s get you back to your room and have dinner!”

“Yeah!” we cheered.

“Are you ready to snowboard all day tomorrow?” he asked.

Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo nodded eagerly, but the rest of us were uncertain.

“What if we’re not good enough?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“We’ll start with the easiest runs, where you’ll find ponies to be forgiving,” Golden Sky said.  “And if it’s still too much, there’s sledding, tubing, and just enjoying the amenities of the resort.  Just let me know what I can do to make your vacation enjoyable!”

Smiling, we headed to our room.





“Whoa!” we all said.

“This place is awesome!” Scootaloo said, her wings buzzing.

Scootaloo’s cry reflected what we were all thinking.  Our “room” at the lodge was more like a house.  I’m pretty sure it was larger than the farmhouse.  From the two story foyer, we could see a large living room, fireplace already roaring.  Beyond that was a dining area and kitchen.  The staircase rose to a second story landing with a railing on three sides and numerous doors beyond.

“I’m glad you like it,” Golden Sky said.  “It was available, and big enough for your group.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering dinner, which should be here in about half an hour,” he continued.  “That should give you enough time to get settled in.”

We got out of our winter clothes and headed upstairs.  Our bags were in the various bedrooms upstairs.  We could figure out the sleeping arrangements later; getting clean and dry was more important.

By the time we were finished, Golden Sky was orchestrating our dinner.  Lodge staff took various bowls and dishes off of wheeled carts and placed them on the table.  We eyed the feast hungrily.

Once complete, we sat down.  The table was mostly silent as we passed around the bowls, filled with pasta in spicy tomato sauce, grilled vegetables, steaming potato soup, and hay nuggets.  Once settled, Golden Sky spoke to us.  “Are you four ready to get your snowboarding cutie marks?” he asked.

“Uh-huh!” Apple Bloom said.  She led the cheer of “Cutie Mark Crusader Snowboarders, yay!”  I was a bit slow on joining in.

“Well, why don’t you tell me about your little group?” Golden Sky said.

“We all met at a party, where we realized we weren’t alone in looking for our cutie marks,” Sweetie Belle said.

“And we decided we’d work together to find out who we are!” Scootaloo continued.

“And we’ve been the Cutie Mark Crusaders ever since!” Apple Bloom said.

Golden Sky looked at me expectantly.

“I joined them a little later.  It’s kind of... a special situation,” I said hesitantly.

“Mister Golden Sky, can you tell us how you got your cutie mark?” Scootaloo asked.

I looked at him eagerly.  While I didn’t think his story would be very relevant to our search, I did want to know about his past, those memories I lost.

“Well, if you really want to hear this old codger’s tale, then I’ll oblige you,” Golden Sky began.  “Picture Ponyville, a long time ago.  It was a little strange for me, being the only pegasus in an earth pony family, and one of the few in town at all.  Back then, Ponyville was about ninety percent earth pony, you know.  Now, Mother and Father loved me very much, of course, and Father made sure I was tutored on flight and weather magic.  But it was hard to figure out what my special talent would be.

“Father taught me all about the family business, as he did with all of us foals. I picked up his business knowledge well, but that always felt like his special talent, not mine.  So I decided to apply what I learned.

“Being one of the few pegasi in town, and the only one in my class, gave me some opportunities.  We in the business world call that a competitive advantage. I did things like clearing away clouds from the park for a colt who wanted to impress his date, or pranking somepony with storm clouds from the Everfree.”

“That’s against the rules, and stupid, too,” Rainbow Dash interrupted.  Of course.  She was the manager of the town weather team, so she would know.

“Back then, the Ponyville weather was run out of Cloudsdale, and was pretty much an afterthought,” Golden Sky explained.  “I’ll grant you that it was stupid.  But I had an excuse.  I was young.”  He turned to us.  “Around your age.”

Golden Sky took a sip of water and continued.  “I did all sorts of little jobs, anything my wings and pegasus magic let me do.  And I loved it!  One day, I counted my earnings, and realized I had already earned one thousand bits.  And that’s when this appeared!”

My uncle brushed his flank.  His sun and cloud cutie mark didn’t catch my attention the first time I saw it; it was a pretty typical pegasus cutie mark.  But when I looked again, I noticed that instead of a sun, his cutie mark featured a gold bit coin behind that cloud.

“So my future was to be a businesspony, but it would be my own business.  It took a while to figure out what business I wanted to run, but I ended up heading west, and running these resorts.  It’s everything I wanted.  I get to work outdoors, enjoy the weather, and make ponies happy.”

“And you built this without a snowboarding cutie mark?” I asked.

“That’s right.  In fact, there are some runs I stay away from,” he said.

I set my spoon down.  All this food, hot or spicy or both, was perfect for filling me with warmth.  “So what are we doing tomorrow?”

“It’s up to you,” Golden Sky said.  “I’d suggest starting with the beginner’s run, and decide where you want to go from there.  There’s a book in the room with all the features of the lodge.  So think about what else you’d like to try, and let’s meet in the morning.  How about 8 o’clock in the Main Dish restaurant?”

“Sounds good,” Rainbow Dash said.

“Then I’ll let you go for the evening,” he said.  “Have a good night.  And if you get hungry, there’s chocolate cake in the kitchen.”

Golden Sky gave me a hug, and shook hooves with the others.  Finally, he departed with a last wave.

“I don’t know about you all, but I hear cake calling,” Apple Bloom said.





Rainbow Dash lay sprawled on the couch, relaxing after a hearty meal and a long day of travel.  The cake revitalized us, however, and we four fillies explored our room.

“There’s a minibar here,” Apple Bloom said.  “If it wasn’t for this lock, I could see why it’s so small.”

“Look at all these postcards!” Scootaloo said, pointing to an opened drawer.  “We could send them out and make everypony jealous!”

“There’s even a phonograph in the room!” Sweetie Belle said excitedly.

“Here’s the book that Golden Sky talked about.  Let’s see what’s in it,” I said.  The thin book featured glossy pages with photographs and descriptions of the resort’s amenities.  The other Crusaders gathered around me and we investigated, talking quietly so as not to disturb the now-sleeping Rainbow Dash.

“Why does anypony need four restaurants?” Apple Bloom asked.

“There’s a spa!” Sweetie Belle said.  “I wonder if Rarity would like it?”

“Let’s look at the actual snowboarding,” I said before reading the details aloud.  Eight runs, ranging from simple to expert.  Then there were three tubing tracks and two hills for sledding.

“Check it out!  A half-pipe!” Scootaloo said.  The way her wings were buzzing, I could tell she was eager to imitate the tricks of the pony in the photograph.

“It’s all nice and good, but all this has to wait for tomorrow,” Apple Bloom said.  “It’s still too early to turn in.  Well, for most ponies.”  She glanced over at Rainbow Dash.

“Let’s go play some music,” Sweetie Belle suggested.  “Maybe that will get Rainbow Dash up.”

“Eh, not likely.  She hasn’t napped enough,” Scootaloo commented.

We crowded around the phonograph, seeing what records were stored in the cabinet.  There was a good selection of classical and popular music.  There was also something else in there, a bunch of crystals and wires.

“What is this?” Scootaloo asked, holding the mystery device between her wings.

“Oh, that’s a karaoke crystal!” Sweetie Belle chirped.

“A carry-what now?” Apple Bloom said.

“It’s a magic thingy that takes the words from a phonograph and projects them onto the wall, and then you can sing along!” Sweetie Belle replied.

“It’s some Neighponese word,” I commented.

“Well, I suppose we could try it out,” Apple Bloom said.

“Wait, first we need water,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Why?” I asked.  The rest of us looked confused as well.

“Rarity says that before you sing karaoke, you need to drink a lot,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Uh, I think she meant something else,” Apple Bloom said.

“But it’s still good to have something to drink, to soothe your throat,” I said.

I grabbed a pitcher of water and some glasses while Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle fiddled with the magical machine.  After that was done, we each selected some songs we wanted to sing.

I was impressed by this creative use of magic.  As a familiar tune played on the phonograph, I anticipated the lyrics kicking in.  Instead, the words were cast upon the wall, changing in color from blue to red as the verse progressed.  Scootaloo tackled the first song.  Her voice was rather off-key, but she was having fun, so I endured the aural miscues.  Sweetie Belle actually sang quite well, but went off key when she got too enthusiastic.  Apple Bloom’s voice was nothing special, but what I found surprising was that her accent was muted when she sang.

Then it was my turn.

I had picked a sappy love song because it was very familiar to me.  I couldn’t remember why, though.  Was it a favorite song of my father or, more likely, my mother?  But I didn’t have time to contemplate further, since the first verse was starting.  

When I finished, I saw the smiling faces of my friends.

“That was pretty good,” Apple Bloom said.  “Better than mine.”

“Yeah, but the song was so... yech,” Scootaloo said, sticking her tongue out.

“It doesn’t feel like my special talent,” I said.

“That’s right!  Maybe we got our karaoke cutie marks!” Sweetie Belle said.  There was a brief flurry of activity as we all twisted around, including a bump on the table that sent a stack of records tumbling to the ground.

Rainbow Dash got up, shaking her head.  “What are you doing over there?” she asked.

“We’re singing karaoke!” Scootaloo replied.  “Want to join us?”

“Ugh!  I have not had enough to drink for that!”





My heart beat rapidly as the lift pulled our little gondola up the mountain.  Below us was a beautiful expanse of white and green, one I would soon be traversing with only a piece of polished wood beneath my hooves.  Looking around the gondola, I saw that I wasn’t the only one having second thoughts.

The noise of the lift shifted noticeably as we reached the end.  We hopped out and walked to the start of the Evergreen Outlook run.  I placed my forehooves onto the board and gulped.

“Don’t worry, Diamond Tiara,” Golden Sky said.  “We’re all going to look out for each other.  You can always fall down, and we’ll pick you up.”  He rested his hoof on my withers reassuringly.

I kicked with a rear hoof, and let gravity take over.

Somepony was screaming.  I think it was me, but I was too busy trying to remember the lessons my uncle gave us.  I saw ponies passing me, but I dared not turn my head.

And then I slowed as the slope leveled out.  I turned my snowboard and stopped.  Soon, I was next to Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, trying to catch my breath.  We all made it down without falling.

That was fun!

“See?  That wasn’t so bad,” Golden Sky said.

“No, that was awesome!” Scootaloo said.  I saw her give a look to Rainbow Dash; she smirked.  Rainbow Dash, in turn, gave a nod.

“Now, I want you all to have fun,” my uncle said.  “I’ll catch up with you later today.”

We made several trips down three of the easiest runs that morning.  Once I realized I could snowboard without placing myself in mortal danger, I had more of a chance to observe my surroundings.  Of course, the scenery was beautiful.  But I was more interested in the ponies.  Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were cautious, like I was.  Scootaloo was more adventurous, swerving as she snowboarded and deliberately hitting mounds of snow to catch some air.  By the third trip, I saw her using her wings to increase her speed.  This was exactly what my uncle said not to do, but the way she was using her wings didn’t generate lift, just like when she was on her scooter.  She even blew past Rainbow Dash, and when I saw her beaming after beating her hero, I could foresee a daylong competition between them.

“Do you want to try one of the intermediate runs?” Scootaloo suggested.

I looked around.  Several of us weren’t certain.

“But it’ll be fun!” Scootaloo urged.

“I suppose we could try it once, but then we’re going to have lunch,” Apple Bloom said.

And once again, my doubt returned as I stood at the top of the run.





“Well, that wasn’t any good,” Apple Bloom said.

“More like a disaster,” Sweetie Belle said.

“I think the three of us are still beginners,” I added.

Three of the five ponies didn’t make it out of the intermediate run without wiping out.  And for us three, that meant getting snow everywhere.  Even after shaking as much out of our manes and coats as possible, we didn’t get it all.  And now that we were inside, enjoying lunch, the melting snow tricked down our necks and barrels.

“Maybe we could try splitting up for the afternoon?” I suggested.  “I can see the two of you eying the triple diamond run.”

Scootaloo lifted her muzzle from her bowl of soup and grinned.  “Maybe there will finally be a course where you can challenge me, Rainbow Dash!”

“Once I figure out how to work my wings like yours, you will not beat me again!” she replied.  Rainbow Dash tried to scowl, but I could see how proud she was of her number one fan.

“Let’s try sledding!” Sweetie Belle said to me and Apple Bloom.

“Good idea!” Apple Bloom replied.

“That sound like a plan?” I said to the table.

Four ponies nodded.  We’d let the two pegasi have their fun.  But for now, we had a basket of hay fries to finish.





“What?  The sleds are only for two ponies?” Apple Bloom said.

The attendant nodded.  “If the three of you want to go together, the tubes seat up to four ponies,” she suggested.

We looked at each other, nodding in tacit agreement.  “Sure, let’s try that!” Sweetie Belle said.

We walked to the top of a small hill, where the tubes were waiting.  These giant rubber rings had curved benches inside for us to sit on.  Once we were in, the attendant at the top of the slope gave us a kick, pushing the tube over the edge and starting it spinning.

We raced down the track, curved walls of snow keeping us safely on course.  To make the course more interesting, the pegasi had orchestrated weather features, placing a number of low-lying clouds around the track.  Some blew snow into us, others just wind, and some clouds provided fresh piles of very light snow, which the tube was happy to disperse into the air as we went through it.  It was the perfect activity for younger ponies, and I saw several families enjoying the ride.

My uncle found me on the tube track that afternoon.  I waved to him, and he landed next to me.

“How’s my favorite niece?” he asked.

“Your only niece?” I said.

He smiled.  “Do you think your friends would be okay by themselves?”

I nodded.  “They were looking to go sledding, so I think they’ll be okay.”

“Then I’d like to spend some time with you, just with you,” Golden Sky said.

I let Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle know what was going on.  They went to grab a sled, and I headed into one of the restaurants with my uncle.  Soon, we had steaming mugs of hot chocolate between our hooves.

“This feels wonderful,” I said.

“So how are you enjoying your vacation?” Golden Sky asked.

“It’s been fun, but I’ve confirmed I’m just a beginner snowboarder.”

“Don’t feel bad.  We all have to start somewhere.  Just like relationships,” my uncle said.  “I thought we could use this time to talk, just the two of us.”

“I did have some things I was wondering about my family, about you and my father, which I didn’t want to talk about earlier.”

“Ask away.”

“What happened between my father and you?  Why did you grow apart?” I asked.

“We might be here a while,” Golden Sky said.  He removed his goggles and loosened his jacket before continuing.  “I think it started after I got my cutie mark.  I just knew I would try my hoof at running my own company.  But Filthy Rich stubbornly believed that I would run Barnyard Bargains, not him.  And he wasn’t happy when I told the family I was moving to start my own business.”

“What?  He didn’t want to run Barnyard Bargains?  But I thought that was his one true passion?”

“It was,” Golden Sky said.  “Even from a young age, he had ideas, plans to grow Barnyard Bargains into the store where everypony in Equestria shopped.  But he wanted to work with me.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Running a business is more than just budgets and plans.  There’s also the equine element.  Your spreadsheet may prove your business plan is the obvious right choice, but you still need to convince other ponies.  Filthy Rich thought I would be the ideal public face of Barnyard Bargains.”

“Would you have been?”

“I’m sure of it.  I mean, I managed to convince ponies to invest in this little business, with a pretty sketchy business plan and no relevant experience!” he said, waving with his forelegs to encompass the property.

“So that’s what drove you two apart?” I asked.

“Yes.  We said a few things we shouldn’t have said.  I felt like he wasn’t respecting my dream.  He felt like I was turning my back on Father’s legacy.”

“And where was my aunt in all of this?”

“Crystal Crown is not a businesspony.  She’s always loved art, and doesn’t really like business.  Maybe that’s why she didn’t get along well with your father, although she at least talks to me about my businesses.”

“I see,” I said, taking a long sip of hot chocolate.

“Your father did something very right, something I never could do.  He married a fine mare, and raised a wonderful filly.”

I looked at my uncle.  Wearing his jacket and goggles, he was the picture of exuberance.  But sitting here, it was lost.  The photos of my father, the most recent ones, showed him with bags under his eyes, a sign of advancing age.  My uncle’s age was even more evident in his face.

“And now it’s my turn,” Golden Sky said.  “Your relationship with your friends.  It’s not different just because you lost your memory.  There’s something else, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to describe.  Something like a fifth wheel, but not that.  Your three friends, were they friends with each other first?”

I nodded.  “Back... before, I wasn’t their friend at all.”

Golden Sky nodded, silently encouraging me to continue.

“I bullied them.  They’ve accepted me now, I think, but it hurts me to know what I did, and worse, I can’t remember why,” I said.  “Do you know why, Uncle?  Did you see that in me?”

Golden Sky shook his head.  “You were always kind when I saw you.  If I had been a better uncle, I would have seen you more recently, and maybe I would have seen a change.  Maybe you were upset about your mother’s passing.  Maybe you were looking for attention from your father.  I can’t say, and for that, I’m sorry.”

I looked down.  These apologies felt awkward.  I had no idea if I was upset about not seeing my uncle.  From what ponies said about me, I might not have cared.  Maybe I should be apologizing instead.

“I think that’s enough serious stuff for today, Diamond Tiara,” Golden Sky said.  “You’re on vacation.  Let’s go have some fun!”





“I think I see Rainbow Dash over there!”

I pointed; the distinctive mane and rainbow contrail the famous pegasus possessed was pretty easy to spot.

“She’s over by the half-pipe,” Golden Sky said.

“Then I bet Scootaloo’s there,” I said.  They must have survived whatever trails the snowboard resort had.  Thinking back to what Applejack said, she had at least some fear that our trip would end with somepony in the hospital.

We arrived to find Rainbow Dash and the other Crusaders cheering on Scootaloo.  She was using a snowboard of a different shape, a bit smaller, as she tackled the half-pipe.  With each trip down one side of the U-shaped snow construct, she picked up speed, aided by gravity and her wings.  Coming up the other side, she rose above the lip, showing off with acrobatic twists or maneuvers along the snow’s edge.  I was glad she wasn’t pulling our wagon!

When Scootaloo finished her practice, she was swarmed by us, telling her how awesome she looked.

Golden Sky grinned.  “There’s a little competition tomorrow afternoon.  You interested?”





We didn’t get our snowboarding cutie marks yet, but that didn’t stop us from making plans for the next day.  We decided the four of us would spend the first part of the morning together, tubing and then racing on sleds, while Rainbow Dash would hit the slopes.

“That way, Rainbow Dash will have a chance at learning how to beat me on a snowboard!” Scootaloo said, grinning.

From there, we planned another visit to the easier snowboarding runs.  There would be lunch at some point, at one of the restaurants we hadn’t tried.  But we all had time marked off for tomorrow’s competition.





“Wow!”

We were all impressed.  Ponies and goats and donkeys were doing unbelievable things with their snowboards.  It was incredible to watch, and this was only practice!

“So how does this work?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“There are three competitions, speed, altitude, and acrobatics,” Apple Bloom said.

“Each pony has three attempts to get their best score in each category,” Sweetie Belle continued.

“And the winner is the pony who scored the most points,” I concluded.

Yes, Scootaloo spent just a little too much time last night talking about this competition. It might not be the Equestrian Games, but we were going to be cheering for Scootaloo to win this amateur contest anyway.

After warming up, Scootaloo hurried back to us.

“You go get ‘em, squirt,” Rainbow Dash said.

We took our seats near the half-pipe.  My uncle had joined us.  “Now you should have seen me on the half-pipe back in the day,” he said.

“Whatever you say, old timer,” I retorted.

The speed competition tracked how fast each competitor could complete five transits of the half-pipe.  Five times up, five times down.  One tumble, and you’ve probably lost already.  Scootaloo also had to worry about a potential foul. She had to keep her wings tucked in on every trip up the half-pipe; wings could only be used on the way down.

Scootaloo was the third competitor for this round.  While she had her wings, other ponies were heavier, and the donkey and earth pony competitors could generate a lot of speed with their kicks.  She completed each of her attempts without falling or fouling.  She rejoined us as we waited for the scores.

The scores were revealed.  Scootaloo frowned.

“I know it says fifth place, but that’s still in the middle of the pack,” Rainbow Dash said.  “I’ve seen how you can catch air.  You can do this!”

“First competitor for the altitude round is Scootaloo.  Scootaloo, please report to the half-pipe,” the announcer called.

We slapped Scootaloo’s back as she departed.  She trotted up to the half-pipe, her snowboard tucked under her foreleg.  She adjusted her goggles, fluttered her wings, and locked herself to the board.  She stared intently, and then suddenly took off down the half-pipe.

Scootaloo’s wings added speed and momentum that served her well as she reached bottom and aimed straight up the half-pipe.  Soon, she cleared the lip, keeping her board perfectly perpendicular until gravity reclaimed her.  With a fast twist, she faced down and leisurely returned to the start.  We weren’t the only ponies who cheered loudly for her.

When the scores were announced after the second round, Scootaloo came in second, and moved up to third overall.

“You can do this, Scoots,” Apple Bloom said.

“Yeah, your biggest competition is that big pony and that big donkey.  Do you think they can be as acrobatic as you?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Just pretend it’s your scooter,” I added.

“Yeah, you’re going to be the coolest pony on the snow!” Rainbow Dash said.

Scootaloo forced a smile through her nervousness.  “I’ll do it!” she said.  I watched as she walked to the half-pipe.  But there was something in her posture, the position of her withers.  I was worried.

When she was called for the final round, Scootaloo stood at the edge, completing her same rituals.  She kicked off, gaining speed in preparation for her jump.  We had seen her nail three and a half twists in practice several times.

Scootaloo completed the twists, but looked off-balance as she neared the edge of the half-pipe.  The tip of her snowboard touched the snow and snapped off her hooves.  She slid down the snow on her barrel.  We gasped.  One foul, no score.

“Come on, Scootaloo!” we yelled.  “You can do it!”

Again, she took position.  Again, she gained enough speed.  And again, Scootaloo failed to hit the landing.

Rainbow Dash flew over and picked up Scootaloo in her forelegs, bringing her back to our group.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, brushing the snow off Scootaloo’s mane with her wings.

“I don’t know.  I’m just nervous!” she squeaked.

“We’re counting on you!” Sweetie Belle said.

“Yeah, you show that snow who’s boss!” Apple Bloom said.

Scootaloo nodded and started to walk away.  “Wait!” I called, trotting after her.

“What is it?” Scootaloo asked.

“Scootaloo, in the time I’ve been your friend, I’ve seen you do incredible things on a scooter, on skates, and now on a snowboard,” I said.  “Cool things.  Acrobatic things.  And if you keep doing acrobatic things, then I’m sure you’ll be just as good, or better, once you’re doing these tricks under the power of your own wings.”

Scootaloo’s mood picked up a bit.

“Just picture being more acrobatic than Rainbow Dash.”

Scootaloo grinned as I told her to get going.  There was a crowd to impress!  I watched Scootaloo prepare for her third and final attempt at the acrobatics contest.  That determination was back in her eyes.

This time, she nailed the landing.  I cheered louder than anypony.

Scootaloo had done her best.  We still had to wait for the results, though.  I think we all felt nervous as the results for the ten competitors were announced.

The announcer started with tenth place and went up to fourth.  Ponies stomped in applause for each competitor.  From there, the three top competitors approached the stage.

“In third place, Hazy Shade.”

The earth pony stallion nodded and accepted his small trophy.  Scootaloo and the jenny next to her stared at each other expectantly.

“And the winner of this week’s competition is... SCOOTALOO!”

There was a blur of activity as Scootaloo took her trophy, shook everypony’s hoof, and then raced back to join us.  We were jumping around so much, I was afraid we were going to cause an avalanche.  Scootaloo twitched and turned her neck.  We all could see a bright glow underneath her jacket.

Scootaloo nearly ripped her jacket pulling it back from her flank.  “My cutie mark!” she screamed.

There, on her flank, was a flaming scooter wheel, a cutie mark she earned with a snowboard.  Her scooter was halfway across Equestria, and we were probably a hundred yards from the nearest wheel.  But there it was, the representation of a talent she first found on her beloved scooter.





“This calls for a celebration,” Golden Sky said after dinner that night.  “I’ve instructed the kitchen to bring you more ice cream than you can eat.

We huddled together, whispering for a moment before breaking.  Apple Bloom stepped forward as our representative.  “We accept your challenge.”

As we ate ourselves sick through eight flavors of ice cream, I thought about the wonderful ending to this day.  I never imagined this simple vacation, classified like most of our activities as an attempt to find our cutie marks, would actually succeed.  But succeed it did, in a most unusual way.

One down, three to go.

> Chapter 19: Talent
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 19: Talent





We stepped off the train in Ponyville, only to be immediately blocked by something pink.  “Ohmygosh Scootaloo got her cutie mark and that means we need to throw a cuteceañera and everypony will be there and she can show off her super awesome special talent and there’ll be cake and punch and games....”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes.  Rainbow Dash noticed, and interrupted Pinkie Pie.  “I think a super awesome filly deserves a party that’s at least 20% cooler.”

“Yeah, nothing cute,” Scootaloo urged.

A quick check around the station found Applejack and Sweetie Belle’s parents.  Seeing no other parental figures, Rainbow Dash picked up Scootaloo.  “Let’s get you home, squirt.  You’ve got some practicing to do!”

Scootaloo smiled as she held on tight.  We all waved to each other as we went our separate ways.

“It’s good to see you’re back,” Applejack said.  “Didn’t think one of you’d actually get a cutie mark out of it.”

“I know!  Isn’t it something?” Apple Bloom said.

“Now, I know it’s not as good of news as earning your cutie mark, but I’ve been talking to Big McIntosh, and we decided that the work you did at the gym really helped you,” Applejack said.  “So we’ve put that in the budget for the rest of the year.”

“Thank you!” we both said.

“Best we hurry now.  There’s still some sunlight left, and a lot of work to do.”

We both groaned.





Part of the work we had to do involved the family garden.  While the ponies working Winter Wrap-Up plowed and planted certain stretches of Sweet Apple Acres, planting some wheat and corn, the garden was left untouched.

“This here garden’s an expression of the Apple family,” Applejack explained.  “Part of it’s all about the foods we like.  But it’s more than that.  It’s personal, an expression of who we are.  It’s just an earth pony thing.”

Applejack could be surprisingly wise when talking about the farm.  But hearing her words left me feeling hollow inside.  The idea that growing things was important to earth ponies is a fact, one of those things I just knew, but I felt like I never once cared about it, until Applejack said it just then.

“Can I plant something?” I blurted.

“Of course, sugarcube.  What do you have in mind?”

I just stared at the ground.  “I don’t... I’ll need to think about it,” I muttered.

Applejack smiled at me warmly.  “Apple Bloom is building another two planting beds.  Why don’t you spend some time thinking about what you want to grow?  But in the meantime, these daisies and tomatoes aren’t going to plant themselves!”

I nodded and got to work.





Our first free weekend was spent on a meeting of the Cutie Mark Crusaders.  Of course, the main topic of our club was unchanged.  But now that one of our members had earned her cutie mark, we had new tactics to discuss.

“I’m telling you, the key to getting your cutie marks is to go out of town!” Scootaloo asserted.  “So what we need to do is find places to go!”

I shook my head.  “First, it’s not that practical a suggestion, and second, I think it was more about what you realized than where you were.”

“But leaving Ponyville is sure to help!” she countered.

“Maybe we just need to do the talent show again?” Sweetie Belle suggested.  That’s right; Cheerilee talked about it in class.  There was a school talent show coming up in about a month.

“That’s a great idea!” Apple Bloom said.

“Again?” I asked.  “What did you do last time?”

The clubhouse suddenly fell silent.  Eventually, the silence was broken by Apple Bloom.  “It wasn’t our special talent,” was all she said.  I looked to the others, but they all clammed up as well.

“Okaaaay,” I said slowly.

“I’m sorry, girls, but I want to do my own thing this year,” Scootaloo said.

“You want to show off your scooter moves?” Sweetie Belle asked.  Scootaloo nodded.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” I said.  “Our trip showed us that we don’t all have the exact same special talent, so maybe we could try something we think we each might be good at.”

“If it was that easy, we’d already have our cutie marks,” Apple Bloom said, sighing.

“I’ve got it!” Scootaloo shouted.  “Cutie Mark Crusaders Beekeepers!”

At least she didn’t suggest going to Appleloosa to do that.





A few days later, I visited the library after school.  It was arguably the most important building in Ponyville now, being the home of a princess, and as a student, it should have been important to me.  I felt out of place as I stepped inside, as if this was a step in my education that I wasn’t interested in before.

I scratched my flank as I waited.  The bee stings still itched, and the pattern of welts there definitely did not count as a cutie mark.

Finally, Princess Twilight Sparkle walked down the stairs.  “Good afternoon, Diamond Tiara,” she greeted me.  “Can I help you find a book?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure what I need,” I said.  “Applejack said I could grow something in our garden, something that’s important to me, but I don’t know what that would be.”

Twilight Sparkle thought for a moment.  “Is there a food you like?”

“Pineapple,” I immediately replied.  “But that wouldn’t work.”

Twilight Sparkle nodded.  “Earth pony magic has its limits.  It can’t make plants grow in winter, for example.  And even a pony like Applejack couldn’t make a tropical plant grow in Ponyville’s weather.”

“Maybe I could read about vegetables and flowers until I find one that feels right,” I said.

“Certainly.  We have a number of books covering the flora of Equestria.”

“Also, I want to find something to do for the school talent show,” I said.

“If you’re interested in performance, we have a variety of plays, songbooks, and tales,” Twilight Sparkle said.  “Or, if you have something else in mind, I can help you with your research.”

Again, I just didn’t know.  I didn’t have a plan, like whatever the Cutie Mark Crusaders came up with last time.  Wait a minute....

“Twilight, what did the Cutie Mark Crusaders try when they participated in the talent show together?” I asked.

“They did a song,” she replied.  “Costumes, dancing, set... it was a whole little production.”

“And it didn’t find them their cutie marks?” I inquired.  “I mean, Sweetie Belle has a nice voice.”

“It was actually Scootaloo singing,” Twilight Sparkle said.  “Sweetie Belle handled the sets, and Apple Bloom danced.”

Wow.  From what I know of my friends, they chose to do the opposite of their talents.  It must have been terrible.  And that would explain why they didn’t want to talk about it.

“Let me think about the talent show for a while,” I said.  “For now, let me take a look at some of your plant books.”

Twilight Sparkle pulled four books off the shelf with her magic.  “I think these will provide a good start.  If you need any further help, please let me or Spike know.”

I ended up paging through these original books quickly.  Nothing really felt right.  Maybe I was going about it the wrong way.  If I never got my hooves dirty, then it wouldn’t be plants that spoke to me, but what they were used for.

So that’s why I asked to look for books on cooking.  Despite my amnesia, I could be fairly certain I ate the products of gardens before.  When I got to a cookbook with recipes from Prench cuisine, I felt something.  Granted, it might have been my stomach talking, as I was getting hungry, but I got a warm, familiar feeling from reading the recipes and looking at the pictures.  I read about a mixture of vegetables called mirepoix, an important base in this cuisine, and I realized I couldn’t prepare it, based on what was currently planted in our garden.  And so I knew what I wanted to grow.

I also had some ideas for the school talent show.  I returned the cookbooks to the princess.  “Could I see some plays and songbooks?” I requested.





After school the next Monday, Applejack was waiting for us.  “I think you two are ready to help grow the apples.  Follow me,” she ordered.

We followed Applejack into the orchard.  It looked so different now.  I had only known the orchard in fall and winter.  Fall, when the branches were heavy with apples, and winter, when the apple trees joined other plants in dormancy.  In spring, the trees were covered with leaves, but no apples.  Instead, fragrant blossoms greeted us.

I remembered when Big McIntosh showed me the books.  In a normal year, Sweet Apple Acres starts selling apples in April.  But none were ready.  “How do we grow apples?” I asked.

I think Applejack was surprised by this basic question, but she seemed to remember who was asking it.  “Well, Diamond Tiara, if we just let Celestia’s sun do its magic, then we’d have plenty of juicy apples, but not for several more months.  That’s why we take care of the orchard.  With our earth pony magic, we can have the trees produce fruit all the way till the start of winter.

“Now, mind you, this is only something we do for the mature apple trees.  For the trees that are still growing, we need to help them grow.  And asking a growing tree to produce fruit can hurt it.  You need to listen to the trees.  They’ll tell you when they’re ready to produce their own apples.”

“But how do I use my magic?” I asked.

Again, Applejack looked at me curiously.  “That’s up to you.  Magic is just an extension of your will.  I’ve never met an earth pony who can’t work with plants, but how each pony does so is a personal choice.”  She stopped by one large tree.  Applejack placed her ear to the tree, examined its bark, and finally pressed the hooves of her forelegs to the bark.  I watched as the petals of the apple blossoms fell to the ground, revealing baby apples.  They grew right before my eyes!

“Now, I think you’re ready to try on your own,” Applejack said.  She took us to another large tree.  Branches had been laid on the ground, forming a square boundary around it.  “Now this is Woodrow.  He’s a good Red Delicious tree, and will produce one pretty bounty, if you care for him well.  And I’m putting him in your exclusive care, Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara.  Nopony else will touch him all year.”

“Thanks, Applejack,” Apple Bloom said.  “Does that include....”

“Yes, that includes applebucking.  I think you look ready, Apple Bloom.  I’ll be there to watch you, and give you advice.”

“What about this other marked tree?” I asked, pointing to a sapling.

“That’s one of the saplings we planted while you were gone, replacing the ones we lost in that storm last year,” Applejack said.  “And just like Woodrow, I’m putting this sapling in your care.  Make him grow strong.  And you can even name him.”

“Wow!  Thanks, Applejack!” Apple Bloom said.  I nodded as well.

“Now, do you want to help Woodrow?” Applejack asked.

Apple Bloom nodded eagerly, and bounded over to the majestic apple tree.  She reared and placed her hooves on its trunk, moving over the bark in a way that almost looked intimate.  Placing one ear to the trunk, she pressed her hooves into two certain points and concentrated.  As with Applejack, her efforts accelerated the tree’s cycle, and apples started to develop.

“Now, not too much, Apple Bloom,” Applejack cautioned.  “You don’t want to stress the tree, and Diamond Tiara needs a turn, too.”

Apple Bloom stepped back.  The tree was there, tiny fruit just visible.  I approached and touched the tree.

Solid.  Rough texture.  I tried moving my hooves, but all I sensed were these physical feelings.

I wasn’t getting anywhere.  Stupid tree.  Do something!

I stepped back, driven away by bitterness.  It reminded me of drinking too strong tea, but then I recognized I wasn’t tasting this bitterness.  It was something I felt, my magic sense recognizing the disharmony of my earlier attempt to connect with the tree.

“Let me try that differently,” I said.

I slowly approached.  I cautiously returned my hooves to the tree, not feeling anything yet.  I placed my ear to the tree.

I’m sorry.  I haven’t done this before.  All I know is there’s a family that depends on the apples you and your kin produce.  And there’s an entire town of ponies hungry for your apples.  Won’t you help them out?

I tapped my hooves to the bark and felt a connection.  I continued this connection until Apple Bloom placed a hoof on my back.

The apples were now larger.

I felt my own happiness, and the warm smiles of my family.  It was a wonderful feeling.

“Now let’s tend to the rest of the orchard,” Applejack said.

Apple Bloom bounded ahead.  I lagged behind, catching Applejack’s attention.  “I think I know what I want to grow,” I said.

“What is it?” Applejack asked.

“Carrots.”

Applejack froze mid-step.  “Come again?”

“I’d like to raise some carrots.”

“Now why’d you want to do that?” Applejack asked.

“I was reading some recipe books, and there were some recipes that seemed familiar.  A lot of them start with a base of carrots, celery, and onions.  But then I realized there aren’t any carrots in the garden.”  I noticed Applejack fanning herself with her hat.  “Is that a problem?”

Applejack fidgeted and cleared her throat.  “Nothing says you can’t grow carrots, but that’s what our neighbor does.  The Carrots grow carrots, and the Apples grow apples, and that’s the way it’s always been.  Besides, we’ve got our own family recipes.  Pa’s side mixes celery and onions with garlic, while Ma’s likes celery, onions, and tomatoes.”

“I still want to try my hoof at raising carrots,” I affirm.

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll support you,” Applejack said.  “But you’re going to have to buy the seeds from Golden Harvest yourself.”





“So do you think you can do it?”

Apple Bloom assessed the crude drawing Scootaloo spread on the floor of the clubhouse.  “So you want a ramp that’s strong enough for your scooter, quick to assemble and disassemble, and able to fit backstage?” she asked.  “I think it has to be smaller.”

“But then I can’t do the Suicide Swing!” Scootaloo complained.

“We only have at most five minutes,” I point out.  “I don’t know all the details of your routine, but it sounds really long.”

“Maybe,” Scootaloo replied noncommittally.  “So, what are you all doing for the talent show?”

“I really can’t think of anything,” Apple Bloom said.  “Besides, I’ll be busy with this ramp of yours.”

“Maybe you could see if anypony else needs help with their sets?” I suggested.  “Then you’ll have lots of chances to be on a winning team!”

“I don’t think I could handle being on stage,” Sweetie Belle said.

“I’m willing to take that chance,” I said.  “I think I’ll try my hoof at singing.”

Apple Bloom looked at me curiously.  “You sure?”

“What song?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“‘To Celestia in Heaven’,” I said.  “It’s familiar.”

“But that’s a hard song!” Sweetie Belle said.

“I have three weeks to practice,” I said.  “But we only have until Tuesday to reserve our slot with Miss Cheerilee.  You sure, Sweetie Belle?”

The unicorn filly nodded.

“So what are we going to do today?” Apple Bloom asked.

We all sighed, waiting for inspiration to take over.





At the end of the day Tuesday, I dropped off a paper with Miss Cheerilee to register for the school talent show.  Most of the class shared my situation, cutting it close to get our entries in.  I was happy Miss Cheerilee now knew my intentions, but there was something more important for today.

This would be our first day harvesting apples by ourselves.

I didn’t count the time we just picked up apples that Rainbow Dash knocked out of the trees.  Today, Apple Bloom would be using her own two hooves, and her magic, to fell the apples.  I wouldn’t be doing that, given that I was still under doctor’s orders to avoid straining my hind legs.

Still, I wondered.  Was the force of the kick the most important feature of applebucking?

I was actually excited as I walked home.  We dropped our saddlebags off at the farmhouse and headed straight to Woodrow.  As expected, Applejack was waiting for us.

“Are you ready to show what you’re made of, Apple Bloom?” she asked.

“Sure am, sis,” Apple Bloom replied.

Applejack nodded, and Apple Bloom approached Woodrow.  She ran one hoof over the tree’s bark, assessing it, before nodding.  Meanwhile, Applejack had placed wooden buckets under the tree.  Apple Bloom turned, stood on her forelegs, and delivered a swift kick to the Red Delicious tree.  Ripe apples fell from the branches into the waiting buckets.  I estimated she got between 90% and 95% of the apples.

“Shoot.  I was hoping to get them all,” Apple Bloom said.

“Don’t worry, sugarcube.  You’ll get there someday,” Applejack said.

Apple Bloom pouted.  “But I wanted to get them all!”  She stared at the tree, and turned around.

“Wait,” I said.  “Let me see if I can help.”

“Now hold on, Diamond Tiara.  You can’t go about kicking that tree,” Applejack warned.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to use my hind legs,” I said.  As Applejack watched, I stepped up to the tree.  I pressed my hoof to it, just like when I was encouraging it to grow.

“Hi,” I thought.  “I know I’m not tough like Apple Bloom, but I know her family well.  All they want is to make ponies happy.  If your fruit was in the basket, then they could sell it, and it would make both them and the pony buying the apple happy!” I rubbed the trunk of the tree.  “If you don’t fall, then you’ll probably be eaten by a rabbit.  And you can do better than that.”

I stayed in contact with the tree for a little longer, and then hit it with the hoof of my right foreleg.  It was more a tap than the ferocious buck delivered by my adoptive sister, but it worked.  The tree’s remaining apples fell into the buckets below.

“Nice job, Diamond Tiara,” Applejack said.

“Well, what do you know?  You can negotiate with trees,” I replied.





The discovery that I had some talent with earth pony magic was warmly received.  It wasn’t good enough to get a cutie mark, but between the two of us, Apple Bloom and I could kick all the apples out of an apple tree.  Someday, Apple Bloom would be as good as Applejack, no longer needing me, but until then, we made a perfect team.

We didn’t spend every afternoon in the orchard.  Applejack made sure we had some time for the school talent show.  Most of that time was spent outside Scootaloo’s house, where Apple Bloom built the young daredevil’s ramps while I practiced my song.

“La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la,” I sang, covering the scales.  I felt my voice crack as I reached the high note on the scale.  That was a problem, since the highest note in my song was another half octave higher.

Apple Bloom spit the hammer out of her mouth.  “Still having problems?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.  “And I have a time reserved to practice on the stage.  I think I need Sweetie Belle’s help.”

“She’s probably free,” Apple Bloom said, running her hooves over the ramp.

“You want to join me?” I asked.

“Sure,” she replied.  “Snips and Snails asked if I could help them with their set, so I can do that at the same time.”

“Really?  Because I have something else I’d like to do,” I said.  I walked over to Apple Bloom and whispered in her ear.

Apple Bloom beamed.  “That’s a great idea!”





“No, no, no.  Try it again,” Sweetie Belle demanded.

I shuffled the sheet music on the podium in front of me.  “And her glorious bright flare!” I sang, my voice breaking as I tried to reach the high note.

It was a week before the talent show, and I wasn’t doing well.  “It’s no good.  Maybe if we shifted it to a lower key?” I said.

“You’re having a hard enough time reaching the low notes as is,” Sweetie Belle replied.  “Are you sure you don’t want to sing a different song?”

“But this is a classic song that everypony knows.  And everypony knows what it’s like to fudge the high notes,” I countered.

“Sure, but is that going to win you this competition?”

I shook my head.  “Probably not, but I don’t mind if I don’t win.”  I paused, shuffling my hooves on the stage.  “Can you show me how it’s done?  Maybe that would help me sing.”

Sweetie Belle turned the podium around and cleared her throat.  I don’t think she needed the sheet music, because she closed her eyes as she began to sing.  The difference between her voice and mine was night and day.

As her clear soprano filled the stage, I glanced behind me and motioned to Apple Bloom.  She nodded, and disappeared behind stage.

Sweetie Belle finished singing, leaving the stage in silence.  “You should be singing in the talent show,” I said.

“Oh, I couldn’t sing in front of all those ponies,” Sweetie Belle replied.

“But they sure seemed to enjoy it,” I said, waving out past the stage.

While Sweetie Belle had been singing, Apple Bloom had raised the curtains.  In the audience were most of the foals from our class.  Some were waiting their turn to practice today, while others had been invited there by me, Apple Bloom, or Scootaloo, promising an excellent show.  In either case, the foals stomped their hooves in applause.

Sweetie Belle smiled, ecstatic over the reaction to her singing.  “Don’t you want to make everypony as happy as them?” I said.

Sweetie Belle nodded, but then turned away.  “But I missed my chance to sign up,” she muttered.

“Don’t worry,” I said.  “When I signed up, I asked Miss Cheerilee to set aside two slots, one for you, and one for me.  You can have this song.”  I reached into my saddlebags, and pulled out pages from a play.  “This is going to be my performance.  I think I can practice backstage.  Why don’t you give the song another try?”

I patted Sweetie Belle on the withers and walked off stage.  I met Apple Bloom and Scootaloo there.  “I have a good feeling about this,” I said.

Apple Bloom nodded.  “If she can do this, she’s going to get her cutie mark for sure!”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo said.  “And she won’t even have to go to Canterlot to get it!”





Sweetie Belle paced backstage nervously, fidgeting in her formal gown.  It was the night of the talent show, and the number of ponies capable of lending her moral support right now was almost nil.  Her parents and sister were in the crowd, waiting for her performance.  Scootaloo was somewhere outside, warming up on her scooter.  Apple Bloom was darting from one group to another, working on last-minute adjustments to sets and props.

I might not be the best pony to do this, but I had to help.  “How are you feeling, Sweetie Belle?” I asked.

“Like my stomach’s trying to crawl up my throat,” she answered.  “I don’t think I can do this.”

I looked her in the eye.  “I know you can do this, Sweetie Belle.  If you get nervous, close your eyes, and pretend you’re back at the lodge, singing karaoke.  Think about your friends.  Think about the song.  Think about what it means to you.  If you do that, you will succeed.”

“Sweetie Belle!  You’re up next!” Cheerilee called, causing the white filly to become even paler.  I gave her a reassuring hug and nudged her forward.

I hid and watched as Sweetie Belle stepped towards the stage.  Miss Cheerilee announces that Sweetie Belle would be singing a favorite song.  My friend stared at the crowd, unmoving.  But then Cheerilee started playing the piano, and Sweetie Belle closed her eyes and focused.  On cue, she began to sing.  She was pitch perfect, effortlessly hitting the high notes of the “And her glorious bright flare / Illuminating the air” line.

And then she started the second verse.  That seemed to catch most of the audience and Cheerilee by surprise, since the first verse is by far the most commonly sung, but our teacher recovered, continuing to play.  Now, Sweetie Belle had her eyes open, and she was smiling at the crowd, connecting with everypony from the front row to the edge of the crowd.  The joy on her face grew as she nailed the third and fourth verses as well.

And finally, Sweetie Belle let the last note go.  The last hit string in the piano stopped vibrating.  Only then did the rumbling sound of thundering hooves fill the stage.

I couldn’t help but smile.  I could have stood there forever.  But then Cheerilee brought me back to reality.  “You’re next,” she said.

Cheerilee headed back to the stage.  “And now, Diamond Tiara will present a dramatic reading.”

I stepped onto the stage.  I felt the warmth of the spotlight on me.  I cleared my throat quietly, and then spoke.  “Friends, Roamans, countrymares, lend me your ears....”





“Attention, everypony, it’s time to announce the results for this year’s talent show,” Cheerilee said.  Once the crowd settled, she continued.  “The award for best athletic performance goes to Scootaloo, for her display of scooter tricks.”

We all congratulated Scootaloo for winning one of the prizes.  Of course, she rode her scooter onto stage to pick up her medal.

“The award for best magic show goes to Berry Pinch, for her performance, In A Pinch.”  The filly received a lot of cheers from the crowd.

“Best comedy performance goes to Snips and Snails, for their show, The Magic and Mystery of Trixie Lulamoon.”  Their performance had been a disaster, and while the duo was disappointed to not receive the magic award, they were happy to get a medal.

“And finally, the award for best dramatic performance goes to....”

I don’t know if our teacher was dragging this out, or if time decided to slow down of its own accord.  I thought I did fairly well, but I hesitated a bit too much with some of my lines.  Maybe if I had spent this whole time practicing my speech, rather than practicing the song I hoped Sweetie Belle would sing, I could have done a better....

“Sweetie Belle, for her rendition of To Celestia In Heaven!”

I smiled as my friend claimed her prize.  The rest of us rushed the stage, ready to celebrate with her.  I remembered a lot of screaming and jumping around, which stopped when Sweetie Belle’s eyes opened wide.  She turned and lifted the edge of her gown, revealing something new on her flank, a purple quaver over a pink heart.

Immediately, Apple Bloom and I checked our own flanks.  Sadly, they remained blank.  No stagehand cutie mark for Apple Bloom.  No drama cutie mark for me.

But I wasn’t going to let that get me down.  I had watched Apple Bloom prove herself to be almost as good at her older and more experienced sister at tending to the orchard.  I had discovered enough of a talent with agriculture that I no longer feared being a burden on the farm.  Sweetie Belle may be the pony celebrating discovering her special talent tonight, but with so many successes, it was only a matter of time until Apple Bloom and I followed her.

> Chapter 20: Summer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 20: Summer





Summer.

It has two meanings.  One meaning is the season that starts with the longest day of the year, a day marked by celebration.  Everypony stays up all night to greet the sunrise.

The other meaning is that magical day, about two weeks earlier, when school ends for the year.

Sitting in school, that second definition of summer was on all of our minds.  It wasn’t here yet, but the way everypony acted, we were definitely ready for summer.  Instead, we were stuck in class, with beautiful weather taunting us from beyond the window.

Cheerilee did something called Family Appreciation Day every so often, where one of the foals would bring in a family member to talk about themselves or their job.  Today was Scootaloo’s turn, and her father was presenting.  The yellow earth pony stallion was describing his job as an accountant for the Ponyville, Fillydelphia, and Western Railroad.  I remember Scootaloo always talking about how busy he was.  I realized this was the first time I had ever seen him.

I wasn’t sure if it was primarily the weather outside or the subject matter, but it was clear scheduling Scootaloo’s father on this day was a mistake.  Everypony in class was bored.  Some rested their heads on their desks, while others stared out the window or doodled in their notebooks.  Even Scootaloo was ignoring him.  Her head was up and she feigned listening, but it was obvious she was staring beyond him, picturing the beautiful day on the other side of that wall.

I think I was the only pony interested in Turbo Tax’s speech.  It wasn’t because of the way he talked, as his delivery left a lot to be desired.  It’s probably better than the alternative, though; a pony who could make accounting sound interesting was a frightening concept.  Instead, I was interested because these were principles I needed to understand to run my company.  Some of his terms and methods sounded familiar.  Perhaps I had learned the basics from my father.

“And then, the final envelope is mailed to Canterlot, along with the paperwork authorizing the transfer of bits from our bank to the Treasury.  And that concludes a quarterly tax filing.  Afterward, the entire staff heads to a local restaurant to celebrate,” Turbo Tax concluded.

“And thank you, Mr. Turbo Tax, for that... thorough account,” Cheerilee said.  “No pun intended,” she quickly added.  “Now, does anypony have any questions?”

I didn’t want to ask any questions about accounting, but I was curious to learn about his business.  I raised my hoof.

“Yes, Diamond Tiara?” Cheerilee called.

“What are some of the challenges facing the railroad?” I asked.

“The biggest challenge we face is equipment modernization,” he replied.  “Magical engines were recently developed, replacing teams of ponies as the main method of locomotion.  But in determining whether or not to invest in these engines, we have to balance the profitability of a given route, the demands of the local rail authorities, and yes, even the tax consequences of these purchases.”

“And that’s all for today’s Family Appreciation Day,” Cheerilee said.  “Thank you again for your time.”  I could have asked more questions, but I think Miss Cheerilee finally realized just how out of it the rest of the class really was.

“My pleasure,” Turbo Tax replied.

“Now, please take out a blank sheet of paper,” Cheerilee told us.  “This is the perfect opportunity for a pop quiz.”

That woke everypony up.





“I wrote a new inspiration song!” Sweetie Belle announced.

Before we could object, she started singing.

“Open your minds
And open your ears
And then your cutie marks
Will surely appear!”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Apple Bloom said.  “But I think I need to do something, not just listen to a song.”

I nodded in agreement.  “I need to do something business related, I think.”

“Start your own building business!  A partnership!” Scootaloo suggested.

“That’s... actually not a bad idea,” I admitted.  “But it might be hard to find business, and fit it in around our work on the farm.”  I also had something else in the works with my lawyer, Legal Plan, but I didn’t want to mention that yet.

“And speaking of that, we have to repair the fence before dark,” Apple Bloom said.

“Unless you girls want to help?” I offered.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle shook their heads.  “Let’s do something fun before you have to work,” our unicorn friend said.

“Hide and seek?” Scootaloo said.  “That gives you two chances to get your cutie marks!”

I had no idea what a hiding or seeking cutie mark would look like, but I was happy to spend the afternoon having fun.





“I don’t get it,” Apple Bloom said.

I stared across the darkness of our bedroom, where my friend, my adopted sister, was pointedly not trying to sleep.  “What is it?” I muttered sleepily.

“How come I didn’t get my cutie mark?  I built a ramp and two sets, and that trick box for the magic show, and still no cutie mark!”

“Isn’t that just a normal day in the life of the Cutie Mark Crusaders?” I asked.

“But this felt different, like it was the right thing to do,” Apple Bloom said.

I tapped the wooded headboard of my bed with my hoof.  “You made this, right?”

“Yeah, and with almost no help, too!  Applejack and Big McIntosh let me use all the tools I wanted, too.  It’s almost like they want me to do this.”

“Just build something else?” I offered.  “Something nopony else in town has made?”

“Maybe,” Apple Bloom replied, sighing.  “But it’s not just them, you know.  I think Twilight’s made some hints like that, too.”

“Twilight,” I said.  “That’s it!  We’ll go to the library, and we’ll find a book with something awesome for you to build!”

“Yeah!  That could work!”





“Well, good morning girls,” Princess Twilight Sparkle said.  “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a book with something I could try to build.  Maybe something big and wooden with moving parts,” Apple Bloom said.

Twilight Sparkle smiled knowingly.  “I think that’s a wonderful idea, and you have my full support,” she said.

“I’m just here for moral support,” I said.  “I think I’ll just read while I’m waiting. Do you have any books about recent history?”

Twilight Sparkle pulled a book off the shelf with her magic and levitated it in front of me.  “Here’s one on the changeling hive of Queen Chrysalis, including the incident at the royal wedding two years ago.”

“Thanks,” I replied, before sitting down on a comfortable couch.  I read this book, finding it interesting how often Twilight Sparkle’s name came up within.

I had just gotten to the section where Queen Chrysalis revealed herself to the celebrants when I was interrupted by raised voices.

Apple Bloom was happily coming out from between two shelves of books, one large tome balanced on her back.  Twilight Sparkle trailed her, waving another book in front of Apple Bloom’s face.

“Look, it’s totem poles, made by the deer tribes of the northwest!  I guarantee that nopony here has ever made one!” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice.  The young alicorn then looked around nervously before pulling another book of the shelf.  “Or how about cabinetmaking?  It’s very important and very practical, and nopony in town makes cabinets.

“I appreciate your help, Twilight, but I’m happy with the book I found,” Apple Bloom replied.  It looked like she was trying to suppress an even bigger smile.

Twilight Sparkle sighed and took away the book.  I was afraid she was going to use her magic or position of influence as an excuse to take away Apple Bloom’s book.  But instead, all she did was pull the card from the pocket at the back of the book, checking it out.  “Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks, Twilight!”  Apple Bloom said.

I set my book down and followed Apple Bloom outside.  “What was that all about?” I asked.

Apple Bloom smiled and showed me the book.  I read the title and smiled.  From inside, I could hear Twilight Sparkle giving orders.  We returned to the door, both of us placing an ear against it.

“Spike, take a letter, send it to the Princesses, and then alert the Elements of Harmony.  The Cutie Mark Crusaders are going to try to build a siege weapon.”

I waved Apple Bloom away from the door.  “She’s not serious,” I whispered.  “Right?  She’s not serious?”  It did seem to me that she was speaking loud enough so that we would hear it, so that suggested it was a deliberate act.  But still, she did sound worried.

“Aww, she’s just having a little fun with us.  You should have seen her eyes when I plucked his book off the bookshelf!” Apple Bloom said.

“But you have destroyed a few things on your crusades, right?”  The disasters I had experienced on our crusades were embarrassing, but didn’t damage much beside our own egos.

“Well, yeah, but I’m not going to bring anything I make into town.”  She paused and set the book on a nearby bench.  “Take a look at these.”  Apple Bloom flipped through the book, showing a number of strange machines with sketches and descriptions.  “This book tells you how these ‘siege weapons’ work, but not how to build them.  And of course nopony’s seen one before.  If I can take what I know about building and machines and make one of these, I’m sure to get my cutie mark!”

It actually sounded like a better plan than the average crusade.  But I couldn’t help but think Twilight Sparkle was right.  Surely there was something safer she could build?





After dinner, I noticed Apple Bloom was nowhere to be found.  I grabbed my schoolwork and headed outside.  Sure enough, I found her in one of the family’s old barns.  She was studying her new book under the light of a lantern.  Various tools and raw materials were scattered on the ground, forming an organized mess.  An unused door had been commandeered to serve as a drafting table, and Apple Bloom was sketching designs on a large section of brown paper.

“Don’t you have some homework to do?” I asked.

“A little.  But I really wanted to study this first.”

“You know Applejack doesn’t like it when we put something ahead of our schoolwork or chores,” I warned.  “So let’s review the vocabulary list together.”

I called out words, and Apple Bloom muttered definitions, muddled because of the pencil that stayed in her mouth.  Afterward, I sat near her and worked on the math assignment.  Algebra was not something I had studied before, but it helped if I thought about the problems in other terms.  How much would a price need to rise if the cost of one component doubled?  How many payments of 12 bits were necessary to pay off a balance?  All of these were finding the unknown, too.

Finally, Apple Bloom rolled up her paper.  “Do you have a plan?” I asked.

“I think so.  I’ll try building this tree-bucket thing in a small scale first.”  She looked around the barn.  “But I’ll need to buy some gears and stuff.”

“I’ll help you buy what you need,” I volunteered.





A trip to the hardware store saw Apple Bloom pick up several bags of wooden and metal pieces, many of which I couldn’t recognize.  As the school year neared its end, I continued to spend my afternoons and evenings with Apple Bloom, supporting her work and making sure she didn’t neglect her homework.  It was unusual that we spent so much time away from the rest of the family.  I got the feeling that they didn’t care for it, but I hoped they understood Apple Bloom’s feelings.

A clatter of wood interrupted my studies one afternoon.  “Darn it!” Apple Bloom shouted.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I ruined another gear.  Now I’ll need to buy another one.”

Apple Bloom looked stressed.  I was afraid that if she didn’t release some of her anger, she’d end up taking it out on another piece of her model.  “What would you say to a trip to the gym before you go shopping?” I suggested.

“Let’s do it.”  Apple Bloom secured her toolbox to her back and hurried out of the barn.

The late afternoon crowd at the gym looked different.  There were more younger mares and stallions, and a fair number of pegasi, I think from the weather teams.  Snowflake was working this afternoon, and he greeted us with a friendly hoof bump.  Apple Bloom headed straight for the punching bag, and I went to practice lifting with my hind legs.

I secured my hooves and lifted.  The familiar click click click was interrupted by a clunk, followed by a jarring shift in the weights.  The vibrations ran up my hind legs unpleasantly.  The same thing happened when I repeated the lift.  I decided to find a different machine.

I instead decided to try the bench press.  Snowflake came over to set it up and spot for me.  The muscular stallion knew just how much I could safely lift, and removed several weights from the bar.  As always, he was supportive of my exercising, even if I was lifting what to him was a trivial amount of weight.  Once the bar was strapped to my forehooves, I slowly lifted it from near my barrel to as high as my forelegs would lift it.

It didn’t feel like I was exercising long when Apple Bloom returned, sweating and looking a lot more relaxes.  “How come you’re not working your hind legs?” she asked.

“Something feels wrong with the machine,” I said.

“Show me what’s wrong,” Snowflake said.  He secured the barbell and headed over.  I followed, feeling unsteady on my tired forelegs.

“Just lift and feel the movement of the weights,” I said.  Apple Bloom did so, effortlessly lifting the weights I struggled with.  Sure enough, she heard and felt the same problem I noticed.

“Be right back,” Apple Bloom said.  She dashed away, and returned with her toolbox.  First she removed all the weights.  She then worked quickly, taking wrenches and screwdrivers in her mouth, until the machine’s inner workings were revealed.

“Now try it again, slowly,” she ordered.  I pressed down, lifting the empty platform as Apple Bloom watched the inner mechanisms.  When we heard that clunk, she asked me to hold it there.  I glanced back, seeing Apple Bloom inspect each gear, lever, and wire.  Snowflake stood over both of us, watching with interest.

“Found it,” she said.  “There’s a broken gear, missing a tooth.  Shouldn’t be hard to fix.”

Snowflake inspected her discovery and nodded.  “You know, Apple Bloom, I could use somepony to help maintain these machines.  Want to earn a few bits?”

Apple Bloom smiled at his suggestion.  I nodded encouragingly.  “You should do it.  It’ll help fund your little project.”

“I’ll be glad to work for you,” Apple Bloom said.  “Just tell me when you’d like me to come by.”  She looked again at the weight machine, and then turned to her tool box.  She dug into it, rapidly pulling out tools, until she found a pencil and a used sheet of paper.  Finding a blank spot on the paper, she took the pencil in her mouth and started sketching a design.

“Inspiration?” I asked.  Apple Bloom nodded tersely in reply.

I couldn’t wait to see her get back to work.





We arrived home in time to do some chores.  Apple Bloom was handling repairs around the house, while I was working on dinner.  The stew I was cooking, a recipe taken from one of the library’s cookbooks, made use of my first crop of carrots.  I hoped everypony would like it anyway.

I stayed out of Granny Smith’s way as she made apple pie.  That would hopefully balance out my stew in the Apples’ minds.

By the time Apple Bloom had finished her chores and washed up, dinner was ready.  The table was crowded by my stew, a bowl of peas, a basket of fresh bread, and a platter of fried hay nuggets.  Apple Bloom grabbed a hoofful of nuggets and hastily consumed them.

“May I be excused?” she said shortly afterward.

Applejack gave a reflexive nod and Apple Bloom ran out the door.  “Thanks!” she called, before Applejack realized what she had done.

“Apple Bloom!” Applejack yelled.  “You come back here!”  I’m sure Apple Bloom could hear her sister’s loud voice, but she could always claim she didn’t.  Plausible deniability.

“Apple Bloom found some inspiration at the gym, and I think she really wants to work on her new design,” I said.

Big McIntosh stared at Applejack.  “Let her go, sis.”  Applejack still looked upset, but went back to her food.

And with Applejack’s mind elsewhere, she didn’t even notice she was eating carrots for dinner.

For the most part, dinner proceeded normally.  We talked about the work on the farm.  Applejack discussed apple sales in the market.  I brought up our schoolwork, making sure I mentioned how Apple Bloom and I were working together on studying for our finals.

After dinner, we packed the leftovers in the icebox, ready for tomorrow’s lunch.  But then I thought about my sister.  “Applejack, Big McIntosh, I want to bring some more food to Apple Bloom.  May I go?” I asked.

“Sure thing, Diamond,” Big McIntosh replied.

I donned my saddlebags, filled with our schoolbooks, and then carefully packed soup, peas, and the rest of the fried hay into a basket.  I departed, taking the basket in my mouth.

The fried hay still smelled good.  It was terrible reheated, though, so I hoped we could finish it.  The soup would be good, though.

Drat.  I forgot to pack a spoon.

I turned around, walking back to the farmhouse.  When I opened the door, I heard quiet but insistent talking in the living room, unmistakably an argument.  I stopped, still in the door frame, and listened.

“Can you tell me what she’s doing wrong?” Big McIntosh said.  “Did Miss Cheerilee say something to you?  Is she shirking on her chores?  Not bucking apples?”

“No.  You know the answer is no, Mac,” Applejack replied.  “But family is important, and Apple Bloom’s been stuck in that barn, and not letting any of us in.”

“She’s got Diamond Tiara,” Big McIntosh corrected.

“Yes, but I just want to see Apple Bloom for an entire evening.  We haven’t been doing that.  It’s been so long, almost...”

“Two months,” Big McIntosh interrupted.

“What?  No, it’s been a month, maybe a bit less,” Applejack said.

“Two months is the time you spent in Manehattan, trying to earn your cutie mark,” Big McIntosh said.  “I put in some long hours that summer.  And Granny Smith, even with those pains in her hip, she spent quite a few hours bucking apples.”

The living room fell silent.  Big McIntosh must have hit a nerve.

“Look, sis,” Big McIntosh said, “Apple Bloom has done some crazy things to try to discover her special talent, but this isn’t one of them.  Trust her this time.”

I propped the door open with the basket, so that it wouldn’t bang shut.  I crept in quietly, and retrieved a spoon.  Departing, I couldn’t help but think about the argument.  I was glad to have an understanding brother, but Applejack had a point.  Apple Bloom was getting a little obsessed.

She really needed to earn her cutie mark for this.

I found Apple Bloom working away in the barn, tightening the screws on some part of her contraption.  “I thought you might be hungry,” I said, placing the basket next to her.

Apple Bloom opened the basket and popped another hay nugget into her mouth.  “Thanks, Diamond Tiara.”

“Now let’s get to that practice exam,” I said.  I opened up my saddlebags and pulled out a math problem set.  “Okay.  The equation is y = 4 – x²/16.  First question.  Describe the shape of the curve,” I read from the practice exam.

I heard the sound of gears before Apple Bloom responded.  “A little like this.”  I looked up, and something slimy smacked into my muzzle.  A lukewarm buttered pea was now resting on my practice exam.

“Now watch carefully,” Apple Bloom said.  She reloaded, and another pea fired out, this one landing on my outstretched tongue.  And the arc it traced was a pretty close representation of the equation on the test.

“You got it to work!” I said.

“Yep!  And now to build the full size model.”





With a week left in school, Apple Bloom completed her project.  Early on a Saturday morning, with the older Apple siblings on the south side of the farm, Apple Bloom pulled out the full model.  It was an impressive contraption of wood and gears and rope.  For this test, Apple Bloom used a large chunk of dirt.  She placed it, and with the pull of a lever, I saw the machine work its magic.  Except it wasn’t magic, just earth pony ingenuity and engineering.

I whooped and jumped at Apple Bloom’s success, but it didn’t attract any reaction from her.  She didn’t even check her flank, which I noticed remained blank.  “Aren’t you happy it worked?” I asked.

Apple Bloom pulled out a large diagram and spread it on the base of her creation.  “Yes, but what I really want is to add these improvements.  Come on; let’s go to the hardware store!”

When we took a break from our chores, we hurried to town.  Apple Bloom rattled off a list of items, by technical name and with their dimensions precisely identified.

The hardware store owner scratched his head.  “That’s a mighty expensive order, Apple Bloom,” he said.

“I have the bits,” she replied, dropping a bag of bits on the counter.  She was ready to spend all of the money she earned fixing the machines in Snowflake’s gym.

“And I don’t normally carry most of these,” the stallion added.  “But I know a stallion with a specialty shop in North Fillydelphia.  I’ll wire him with what you need.  It’ll probably take a week to get here.”

“But I want it now!” she pouted.





Apple Bloom’s special order arrived early, on Wednesday.  Applejack had lain down the law: absolutely nothing was to be done before chores were finished and two hours of studying completed.  I helped out Apple Bloom, volunteering to take on her share of the field chores.

Convincing a fully grown apple tree to drop all its fruit, using only my earth pony magic to connect with the tree, took a long time.  I can see why the Apples used their bucking technique.  Slow or not, I filled bucket after bucket with apples while Apple Bloom had the opportunity to finish her masterpiece.

I don’t know if the warm feeling I felt was the June sun, my earth pony magic, or knowing I was helping Apple Bloom.





Friday was the last day of school.  It was only a half day, but it was the worst possible way to spend half a day.  The final exam covered everything we had learned that year, in every subject.  For four grueling hours, all anypony heard was the scratching of pencils and the shuffling of papers.

“Time’s up!” Miss Cheerilee announced.  “Pencils down, everypony.  Please sit quietly while I collect your papers.”

I stretched my sore neck and jaw.  All around me, my classmates had the same idea.  Flanks shifted in seats as the outdoors called.

After an interminable wait, Cheerilee finally spoke.  “Class dismissed!  Have a nice summer, everypony!”

In the blink of an eye, we were outside.  Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo rushed up to us.  “You want to hit Sugarcube Corner?  I’m sure Pinkie Pie has an awesome ‘You’re done with exams!’ party going on,” Scootaloo said.

Apple Bloom shook her head.  “I have something to finish up.  But why don’t you come down to the farm tomorrow, about an hour before sunset?  I promise there will be something big!”

“You mean as big as...” Sweetie Belle started.

“Bigger than that,” Apple Bloom said confidently.





I have to admit, even I was curious.  After receiving her special order, Apple Bloom had worked by herself.  Not even I knew what her improvement was going to be.  But she was confident that she would finish by tomorrow, and invited the entire family to watch.

“Can you at least give me a hint?” I asked before we went to sleep.

“Sorry, Diamond Tiara, but you’re going to have to be surprised, too,” she replied.  “But there is something you can bring from the garden tomorrow.”  She came over to my bed and whispered in my ear.

I smiled.  “That sounds like fun!”





I stood outside the old barn at the appointed time.  Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo were wildly speculating about Apple Bloom’s surprise.  But I was more interested in what the adults were saying.

Applejack, Big McIntosh, and Granny Smith were all present.  But I also noticed Princess Twilight Sparkle, along with Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Rarity.  I could see Applejack telling her close friends about Apple Bloom’s little event, but I did find it suspicious that all the Elements of Harmony were present.

My suspicion was confirmed as Rarity spoke.  “And just why were you so insistent we come today, darling?” she asked Twilight Sparkle.

“It’s going to be a big day, and we want to support Apple Bloom, right?” Twilight Sparkle said.  The twitch in one eye belied her calm tone of voice.

“But seriously, what is this big day, anyway?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Apple Bloom’s been building something, and I reckon she wants to show it off,” Applejack replied.

“Building what?” Fluttershy asked.

“Don’t know.  Those two fillies have been keeping mum.  But I did hear some talk about tree buckets.”

“What the hay is a tree bucket?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Ooh, ooh, I know!  It’s one of those long poles with a basket to sit in, so ponies can reach the top of trees!” Pinkie Pie said.

“No, that’s not it,” Twilight Sparkle corrected.  “That machine has a very specific name.  It’s... darn!  It’s on the tip of my tongue!”

“Twilight, I told you there was nothing to worry about!” Applejack said.

“I know, Applejack.  I listened to you, and I didn’t bring the Elements of Harmony.”

I watched the young princess carefully.  I had no doubt she was prepared to cast a spell to summon the Elements if something went wrong.  I did my best to remain inconspicuous, as I stood in front of two pumpkins I had harvested.  The two gourds were the unfortunate victims of some rabbit’s predation, and were now rotting.

Apple Bloom finally exited the barn, pulling what looked like the machine I had previously seen.  It was covered by a tarp, but I recognized its wheels and base.

The eyes of three fillies, seven mares, and one stallion fell on Apple Bloom.  She gave a bow.  “I’ve been working very hard to make this for you.  I’d like to thank Twilight Sparkle and the library for her help.  Now, behold!  The tree-bucket!”

She pulled off the tarp, revealing her machine for the first time to somepony other than me.  Murmurs of “what is it?” came from most of the ponies in the crowd.

Twilight Sparkle was not one of those ponies.  Once she picked her jaw off the ground, she pointed.  “That’s... you built a trebuchet!” she stammered.

Apple Bloom looked at Twilight Sparkle curiously.  “Oh.  I didn’t know the word was pronounced all fancy.”  She turned to me.  “Diamond Tiara, the pumpkin?”

I picked up the rotting pumpkin by its stem.  Together, Apple Bloom and I lifted it into the rope sling hanging from the beam of the trebuchet, its counterweight already lifted.  It was ready to fire.  Apple Bloom pulled a lever.  The heavy boulder dragged one end of the beam down.  From the other end, the rope whipped around, and at the top of the arc, the pumpkin flew out, heading into the Everfree Forest.   Its flight path formed a nice parabola before we heard it splatter among the boughs in the nearby trees.

“Cool!” Scootaloo said.  But she was alone in that sentiment; the other ponies were gaping over what Apple Bloom had accomplished.

Apple Bloom dashed into the barn and a short time later, pulled out another tarp-covered machine.  This must be what she had been working on alone.  “And after that, I made an improved tree-bucket,” she announced.

Removing the tarp, Apple Bloom revealed a siege weapon a lot like the one she made before.  This one featured a metal arm, and instead of using a heavy boulder as a counterweight, it appeared to make use of springs.  She gripped a crank in her mouth and turned it.  The first several turns were easy, but soon she was struggling.  She dug her hooves into the ground.  The muscles in her well-toned neck bulged as she continued to tighten the mechanism.

“Another pumpkin, Diamond Tiara?”

I responded by picking up the second rotted pumpkin.  Again, I helped Apple Bloom put it into the trebuchet’s sling.  This time, I ran away from the machine, standing next to Applejack.

Apple Bloom gave her improved trebuchet one final check.  She adjusted a couple of levers, altering the elevation and angle.  Then, she placed her hoof on a lever.

With one mighty tug, the lever loosed the arm of the trebuchet.  The incredible energy stored in the springs was released, and the pumpkin flew into the air at a tremendous speed.  It flew so fast and so far, we lost sight of it, and didn’t hear it when it landed.

All eyes were on Apple Bloom as she jumped gleefully.  A glow formed on her flank, and when it faded, it revealed her cutie mark, a hammer and wrench crossed over an apple.

With that, Apple Bloom was buried under three fillies.  We congratulated her for finally attaining her cutie mark, with more congratulations coming from the adults.  Even Twilight Sparkle had to smile when she saw how happy Apple Bloom was.

I still think Twilight Sparkle was unhappy over what Apple Bloom made, but she couldn’t resist learning.  “So how does it work?” she asked her.

Apple Bloom happily explained her creation, about how it worked, and the inspiration she found in books and other machines.  The technical terms she used went over my head.  Only Twilight Sparkle and, strangely, Pinkie Pie seemed to follow her.

“And then I thought, I could do even better if I used elements of the Party Cannon!” Apple Bloom said excitedly.  Pinkie Pie beamed, and looked ready to plot with Apple Bloom.

Applejack stepped in, pushing the two ponies apart.  “I’m going to have to put my hoof down here,” she ordered.  “This here machine is going back into the barn, at least until we have a nice long talk with Twilight, the mayor, and anypony else who’s responsible for this sort of thing.

Apple Bloom slumped, disappointed.  But Applejack pulled her into a comforting hug.  “Don’t feel down.  You made something nopony else could, and I’m proud of you, sugarcube.  But that doesn’t change the fact that we have to think of other ponies’ safety.”





Summer.  By its other definition, it was tomorrow.  Apple Bloom and I were looking forward to staying up all night to greet the longest day of the year.  We were allowed to sleep in late, ensuring we’d have the energy to last until sunrise, and only had light duties in the orchard that day.

Our dinner was nothing special, but I was looking forward to dessert.  But we would have to work for that sweet treat.  Applejack supervised as we built a fire pit, a circle of stones in a cleared area of dirt at the edge of the farm.  We placed kindling under larger logs.  Finally, Applejack struck a match, lighting a paper that was in turn used to ignite the kindling.

Once the fire was roaring, taking away the night’s chill, we turned to the task at hoof.  Marshmallows and chocolate bars, both from Bon Bon’s confectionery, waited next to a plate of graham crackers.  Apple Bloom and I smiled at each other as we speared the fluffy white treats on the end of thin branches, and then placed them over the fire.  Soon, we were enjoying fresh s’mores.

Applejack happily accepted the s’mores we made for the rest of the family.  “Now you two have fun tonight,” she said.  “Don’t take the fire out of the circle, and don’t do anything else funny.”

“Yes, Applejack,” we both said.

After stuffing ourselves thoroughly, I lay side by side with Apple Bloom by the fire.  We gazed up at the night sky.  Wherever pegasi controlled the weather in Equestria, the sky would be clear.  Luna blessed her sister’s greatest day with a beautiful arrangement of stars in the sky.  She was a true artist, preserving the essential constellations used by navigators while creating art with twinkling stars and faint distant nebulae.

In the distance, a timber wolf howled.  Without the walls of the farmhouse between us and it, the howl sounded very loud.  I shivered.  Apple Bloom grasped my hoof, as if to say it was okay.

“So what’s your plan to earn your cutie mark?” Apple Bloom asked me.

“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

“Applejack let it slip that you’re going to be doing something over the summer, and I want to know what.”

“I talked with Legal Plan, my father’s lawyer, and he helped arrange an internship.  I’m going to work at Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.”  Apple Bloom looked like she was going to ask the obvious question, so I elaborated.  “Not like before.  I’m going to work in the office building downtown.”

“What do you do in an internship?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I’m not really sure.  Mostly learn how the office works, I think.”

“Won’t it be kind of awkward for everypony else, knowing that you’re going to be the big boss one day?”

“Possibly,” I admitted.  “But it’s important for me to learn, and I really want to earn my cutie mark.

A timber wolf howled again.  It sounded louder, but I’m sure it was my mind playing tricks on me.  That didn’t stop me from scooting closer to Apple Bloom.

We spent hours just talking about nothing in particular.  After a while, fatigue was getting to us, and we just relaxed.  The occasional word exchanged between us ensured we didn’t fall asleep.

“Fire’s getting low,” I mused at one point, staring into the fading flames.  I looked up in the sky.  The position of the moon indicated it was around three o’clock in the morning.

Apple Bloom got to her hooves.  “I’ll get some more firewood,” she said tiredly.

I stirred the red-hot coals with a stick.  The smell from the fire was foul, all sulfur and decay.

The hairs of my coat rose as terror threatened to paralyze my body.  I managed to turn my neck.

Behind me, very close behind me, a fearsome creature composed of mismatched, jagged pieces of wood leered at me.  Its green eyes glowed unnaturally.  It exhaled, a foul green and black cloud of death washing over me.

I screamed.

I fought to get my body to react.  My hooves scrabbled at the ground.  My first instinct was to place the fire between me and it.  It circled around the fire, pursuing me slowly.  I noticed two other timber wolves closing in.

The first timber wolf lunged.  I jumped away.  A blur of movement, and I saw Apple Bloom pummel the creature with her forehooves, before turning and delivering a powerful buck to its jaw.  The branches collapsed, but only temporarily.  It was reforming.  And the other two timber wolves were flanking us.  We pressed close together, stumbling as we backed away.

“YOU GET AWAY FROM MY KIN!”

There was a powerful crack, and one of the two timber wolves turned into kindling, flying high through the air.  Applejack stared at the last standing timber wolf, challenging it.  The sound that I had first thought to be my heartbeat had been the pounding of Applejack’s hooves as she ran to protect us.

The third timber wolf pounced, only to be driven off by a glancing blow from Applejack’s hooves.  She monitored it and the first timber wolf, now completely reformed.  She spared a glance at us.  “What are you two doing?  Run back to the farmhouse!”

Applejack picked up a burning log in her teeth.  The orange flames illuminated her grim countenance as she brandished her makeshift weapon.  Despite being made of wood, these monsters showed no fear.  I heard more hooves as Big McIntosh approached, a barrel balanced on his back.

Apple Bloom tugged on my foreleg.  With that gesture, I remembered to run.  I heard pounding hooves.  Cracking wood.  Grunts, yelps, and howls.  I dared not look back.





Apple Bloom and I stared out the window, in the direction of the Everfree Forest, the direction from which Applejack and Big McIntosh would return.  We waited.  It felt like hours, but as the rational part of my brain fought to regain control, I recognized only minutes had passed.

In the moonlight, I saw a figure approach rapidly.

One figure.

Big McIntosh slowed as he reached the porch, and opened the door with a grace that belied his size.  He quickly shut it behind him.  In the darkness, it was hard to see his expression.  He looked no worse for the wear, but there was the smell of sweat and something else unpleasant about him.

“Where’s Applejack?  Is Applejack okay?”  We both challenged Big McIntosh, and I couldn’t remember who asked which question.

Big McIntosh pulled us both close.  “Don’t you worry.  Applejack’s safe.  We’re all safe.”

The big stallion released us.  I felt something sticky in my coat as he pulled away.  It was the source of that bad smell.

“Where’s Applejack?” Apple Bloom asked again.

“She ran to town to report the attack.  We’ve got to alert the mayor and Twilight and the weather team.”

“The weather team?” Apple Bloom wondered.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“We killed the timber wolves.”

Apple Bloom and I gasped.  Big McIntosh calmly lit a lantern.

“Most timber wolves are smart enough to be deterred by a few powerful bucks to the face,” Big McIntosh explained.  “If that doesn’t work, we burn them.  I understand they really don’t like that feeling.

“But some are stubborn.  They’ll keep calling branches from the Everfree Forest to their bodies.  So we make sure that won’t work by covering their burning forms with tar.  I don’t know how it works, but it does.

“One of the timber wolves made it back to the Everfree Forest.  So the weather team needs to be alerted in case a fire catches there.  And the town needs to know about the attack.”

“You... killed it?” Apple Bloom said.

Big McIntosh nodded sadly.  “We didn’t want to, but we had to.  Even a timber wolf has its place in Equestria, but that place is not killing ponies.”

The big stallion looked at us, and then himself.  “Now let’s get washed up.”

Tar was far worse than tree sap for getting out of one’s coat.  Fortunately, the scrubbing distracted us from our worries.  But once we were clean, we thought of Applejack.  We headed to the living room, watching the approach from the window.  The three of us waited in silence, the lantern flickering.

Finally, we heard the sound of hoofsteps approach.  The door opened, admitting a saddened Applejack.  Her head was bowed.

“Applejack!  Your hat!” Apple Bloom shouted.

The front of Applejack’s familiar Stetson was burnt.  Part of the brim was gone, and the crown was scorched.  She took it off, and slowly spun it around on one hoof.   “Well, I’ll be,” she muttered.

Applejack placed her hat on the rocking chair and then embraced Apple Bloom.  “A hat can be replaced, sugarcube.  You can’t,” she said.  She then hugged me.  “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

As we separated, I noticed the first light of Celestia’s sun through the window.  It was time to welcome summer, and welcome it as a family.

> Chapter 21: Internship
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 21: Internship





“Now stand still, dear.”

I stood on a pedestal in Carousel Boutique as fabric settled around me.  Rarity scrunched her nose as she made subtle adjustments with her magic.  She turned the pedestal, allowing me to see myself in her new outfit.

“A perfect fit, as always.”

The business collar and silk tie looked very sharp.  They looked incongruous with the bow in my mane.  I would need to change up my mane somehow.  Now, my tiara would make the ensemble!

“And here you go, Diamond Tiara.”  Rarity levitated over four more wrapped packages.

“Uh, this is too much.  There’s no way I can accept all of these,” I protested.  I thought Rarity was going to make me one outfit, not an entire wardrobe.

“Nonsense, Diamond Tiara.  You helped my darling sister discover her talent, helping her realize it involved neither my boutique nor my kitchen.  My meager tailoring pales in comparison to the valuable service you provided.”

Rarity had this certain way of speaking that communicated a lot about her relationship with her sister.  It was much like the way Applejack was upset by Apple Bloom’s recent pursuit of her own cutie mark.  Fortunately, my own plan to discover my special talent should lead to less hoof-wringing.

“Now what is it that you will be doing this summer?” Rarity asked me.

“I’m about to find out,” I replied.





“Can you tell me what I’ll be doing on this internship?” I asked Legal Plan.

The lawyer shrugged.  “Fetching files.  Pouring tea.  It’s things that anypony could do.  But the work isn’t the main focus of an internship.”

I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“You’ll have the chance to observe how your company works.  You might be sitting quietly in a meeting room, but you’ll have a first-hoof opportunity to see what’s important in the scope of running a business that spans Equestria.  And you’ll be able to learn from the executives.  Just be mindful of how busy they are.”

“That sounds good.  I just feel like I want to learn, more than anything I’ve felt at school.”

“Then this should be a good opportunity for you.”





On the evening before the first day of my internship, I reviewed my mental checklist.  My collar and tie were set on the dresser.  A pair of barrettes were ready to tame my mane; wearing my tiara, the symbol of leadership, didn’t feel right when I would be the one following.  I felt ready.

But I wasn’t sure everypony was ready.

I headed downstairs, looking for Applejack, and hoping she would be alone.  Thankfully, she was; the mare was alone in the kitchen, cleaning the oven.  The sound of steel wool scraping away at the burnt remains of countless apple pies was not pleasant.

“Applejack, could I speak to you?”

Applejack pulled herself out of the oven, brushing black flakes out of her coat.  “Of course, sugarcube.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with me working away from the farm this summer?”

“Thanks for asking, but you shouldn’t worry about it,” Applejack replied.

“But all the time you spent away from the farm last year hurt your production,” I observed.

“It’s not a problem until we near fall, Diamond Tiara,” Applejack stated.  “The farm’s not as labor-intensive at the height of summer.  Heck, there’s a reason why towns have their fairs around that time.

“Besides, if it makes you feel better, I could up your chores some.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said.  The light schedule of chores I was assigned would probably still take three hours to do.

Applejack hugged me.  “I’m glad that you’re thinking about the farm, sugarcube.  But we learned from last year, and we’re prepared to support our larger family.”





If I were to entertain a visitor to Ponyville, I would probably show them the town’s center.  Places like the Golden Oaks Library, Sugarcube Corner, and Town Hall are among the town’s most unique buildings.  It’s what sets Ponyville apart from other towns.

The downtown area I was now walking through was not unique.  But it was clearly an important part of town, judging by the number of ponies, mostly stallions, walking to work.  Built around the railroad station, an orderly grid of streets ran among brick and stone buildings with shops and offices.  My hooves clopped along the cobblestone streets.  It was a lot like Manehattan, just a lot smaller.

My destination was the tallest building in Ponyville.  At five stories, it would be completely unremarkable in larger towns.  But even if I were in Fillydelphia or Manehattan, I’d still be proud of this building.

It bore the name and logo of Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.

I walked into the building’s lobby.  A desk with a receptionist, flanked by two potted plants, greeted me.  Behind the receptionist was a large map of Equestria, with stars indicating the location of each Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.

I walked up to the receptionist, but was intercepted by a well-dressed mare.  “Good morning, Diamond Tiara,” she said.  “I’m Fair Deal, vice president of marketing, and I’m happy to welcome you to the worldwide headquarters of Rich’s Barnyard Bargains for the next eight weeks!”

“Thank you, Fair Deal.  I’m looking forward to learning more about my family business.”

“It’s rare to see a pony as young as you be interested in business, but you are your father’s daughter.”

We walked through the hallway.  We passed by formal portraits of three stallions.  I recognized the third, so I paused to look at them.  All portrayed stallions in dignified poses, oil paintings obviously made by somepony with a great talent in art.

Stinkin’ Rich.  Stinkin’ Rich the second.  Filthy Rich.  My great-grandfather, grandfather, and father.

“Are you thinking about your own portrait?” Fair Deal asked.

“I hope I can be worthy of the honor,” I said.  “I just don’t know yet if I can be that good of a businesspony.”

Fair Deal paused.  “We’ve only heard about what happened to you, with your accident.”  She hesitated again.  “Is it true?”

“I’m not sure what you heard, but if it’s about my memory, I did lose it.  If I’ve met you before, please forgive me for not recognizing you.  I still don’t recognize anything from my past.  But I think my father taught me a lot about business.  I haven’t forgotten anything I’ve learned, even if I don’t remember learning it, and I realize I know a lot more about business than most foals my age.”

“That’s good to hear,” Fair Deal said.  “Let me start by introducing you to some of the ponies here, and give you a tour of the facilities.”

The introductions went by in a blur.  We went first to the fifth floor of the building.  There were so many vice presidents, each focusing on one aspect of the company.  Operations, accounting, finance, equine resources, planning, research... it was all so hard to track, and to make matters worse, most of these ponies had cutie marks only tangentially related to their jobs.

The tour was more interesting.  I had seen the store, from sales floor to the back, so I wondered how the office was organized.  It was a little more compartmentalized.  The basement featured a mail room, where mail from customers, stores, and other Rich’s offices was processed, and the telegraph room, where stallions hunched over metal keys communicated with suppliers and railroads.  Although it was out of the way, I could feel that these departments were crucial to the success of my company.

The first floor featured a large secretarial pool, with ponies copying documents, and accounting, with mares and stallions diligently pressing their hooves on the large buttons of their adding machines.  The cafeteria was also here.  The three floors above it included a variety of departments, all sharing a common architecture of rows of desks in the center and offices along the walls.

Finally, we returned to the fifth floor, where I would be working.  Now that I had seen the rest of the building, I could see that this floor was much nicer than the rest.  Gone were the rows of desks.  Instead, each pony here had an office, save for a few support staff.  There were several meeting rooms, with large ornate tables, the finest of which was labeled “Board Room”.

“I think it’s only appropriate that you sit here while you’re with us,” Fair Deal said.  “Since Mr. Bottom Line chose to stay in the Whinnyapolis office, it hasn’t been used.”  She opened the door into a large office.

My father’s office.

I blinked, and thought for a moment that a certain dedicated and caring stallion would be sitting behind the desk.  Instead, it remained still.  It looked like the office had been dusted and cleaned, but otherwise left untouched.

I looked at the portraits that covered the desk and the top of the cabinet by the window.  I saw myself, from the time when I was an infant until the age when I had a cutie mark.  There were other photos, several of the mare I recognized as my mother, and several of my father with business associates, but the pictures indicated I was foremost on his mind.

“Why don’t you sit for a while, and read some of the files?  Each day, I’d like you to speak to Daily Planner, the executive secretary, to talk about your daily schedule.  There are a number of meetings I’d like you to attend, and she’ll let you know how you can help us.  But for today, we haven’t scheduled things until after lunch.”

“Okay,” I said.  “I’ll see what I can learn.”

I’m sure whatever my father was working on at the time of his death was long out of date.  It had been more than a year, after all.  But I still could learn what was important to the president of the company.

My father was a very organized pony.  His filing system was easy to understand.  I pulled out a folder from one of the drawers.  Quarterly sales reports for 1Q77, by store and region.  It showed sales for the recently finished quarter, and comparisons to the previous quarter and previous year.  I lacked the context to recognize the significance of the actual numbers, but the comparison to previous periods helped.  Most stores showed a decline from the previous quarter, likely due to the holiday spending in the fourth quarter, so the comparison to the previous year was helpful.

I noticed some numbers that looked off, and then noticed my father had written some comments on the report.  “Unusual decline—speak to store manager.”  “Hartford store shows slower growth than comparable middle market stores—investigate.”  “Seaddle store leads the Northwest region—arrange recognition awards.”

Father’s desk included files like this one for two years’ time.  The next item I found was a little more interesting.  There was an entire drawer devoted to specialty products, including zap apple jam and the Rainy Mountain Rain Drops from Seaddle I had sold last year.  I opened the folder for some of these products and read.  A common characteristic was the initial contact about these products coming from a local store manager.  Sometimes there was a newspaper article about a wonderful product, but more often it was a simple testimonial.  “You’ve got to check this out!”  Each of the products was unusual and magical, tied to the magic of an uncontrolled area like the Everfree Forest; that made sense, since normal magic could produce most foods and goods anywhere.

Like zap apple jam, these products were produced over a limited time frame, and often had a short shelf life.  With its superior distribution network, Rich’s Barnyard Bargains might be the only store in Equestria capable of selling these items beyond their local market.  And the deals were profitable for both the ponies making the items, and for Rich’s.

I was so interested in my reading that I was surprised when Fair Deal invited me to lunch.

I trotted after the executives, heading to the cafeteria on the first floor.  “We have an excellent cafeteria,” Fair Deal said.  “And it’s free for employees!”

That was good news.  I didn’t think to bring any bits today!

There were numerous stations in the cafeteria, offering salad, sandwiches, pizza, and pasta.  Actually, the pasta station was serving risotto, which sounded good to me.  I got my tray, and waited for the partially cooked rice and vegetables to be heated.  Afterward, I checked out the other food options.

Five minutes later, I joined the executives at their table, setting down a tray with the risotto, hay fries, tomato soup, apple juice, and custard pie.  It was a normal size lunch on the farm, but nopony else had that much food.  The food was of middling quality.  It wasn’t bad, like the school cafeteria that few ponies dared to eat at, but there were obviously sacrifices made to serve a lot of ponies quickly.

I politely listened in on the conversation.  These ponies were good about not talking about work at the table.  But what they talked about was families, hobbies, vacations.  All things I had experienced with the Apples, but it felt like a different world.  It was my world, in the future.

“We have a planning meeting after lunch,” Fair Deal said.  “Please bring up the tea set.  Talk to Pan Fry; he’s the purple stallion over there.”

I nodded and went to speak to him.  Pan Fry was a plump young stallion with a blond mane and glasses.  He wore a white coat that didn’t cover his frying pan cutie mark.  “Hi.  I need to bring the tea service up to the fifth floor,” I said.

“Sure thing, miss,” he said.  He retreated into the kitchen, and came out another door, pushing a small wheeled cart with two teapots, cups and saucers, and the normal accompaniments.  The tea smelled good.  I thanked him and took the cart.  Placing my forehooves on the push bar, I was reminded of walking with a walker.

Fortunately, the building had a lift.  I don’t know how I would have gotten that cart up stairs.





I soon learned the reason for the two teapots.  There was an even split in tea preferences, with four ponies choosing the black tea and another four choosing the green tea.

“Aren’t you going to pour yourself a cup?” one of the stallions asked.

I felt every eye on me.  My mere presence was upsetting a careful balance that had existed for a year.  Possibly longer, if my father didn’t drink tea.  “I’m fine,” I said.  Truth be told, I didn’t care much for tea.

The meeting covered the annual business plan.  The goal was to forecast sales for the next five years, with stronger focus on the next three years, and the biggest focus on the next year.  I spent a lot of time running between the meeting room and various offices, retrieving files, but for the rest of the time, I sat quietly, writing notes on a pad of paper.  I was learning a lot of the whats, but left wondering about the whys.  I would have a lot of questions to ask later.





I returned home after work.  Stepping into the living room, I set my sights on the couch, and immediately sat down.  This was a strange feeling for me.

I felt tired.

Sure, the walk to downtown was longer than my normal walk to school, but it wasn’t strenuous.  Not like, well, any work on the farm.  My mind was racing, thinking about everything I learned, the dozens of contracts, the numbers from countless individual store forecasts.  All I wanted was to sprawl out on the couch and close my eyes.

I didn’t know thinking could be so tiring.

And I still had to tend to the garden and the trees in the south orchard.





After two weeks, I had a variety of questions.  I had spoken to the ponies in the office on occasion, asking one or two questions, but by this point, I felt I had learned enough to ask questions to help my understanding of the big picture.  Fair Deal was there, as she was my unofficial contact, but I also was able to speak to Willow Dream, the stallion in charge of operations, and Big Score, the vice president of sales.

“Why did Rich’s Barnyard Bargains expand the way it did?  Why were the new stores established in these cities, and why in that order?”

“You want to start with a history lesson?” Willow Dream said.  “Now, of course, I wasn’t around for those first new stores.  As I understand it, they were founded by close associates of your grandfather, and not with any plan.”

“It was more like your grandfather thinking he could trust that pony to share his vision,” Big Score added.

“But the expansion over the last twenty years was your father’s goal.  He believed that since everypony needed to buy things, they could do it best at Rich’s Barnyard Bargains,” Fair Deal said.

“But actually building these stores?  That’s my headache,” Willow Dream said.

“What kind of problems do you have?” I asked.

“There are a couple of problems.  Out west, the population is sparse on the ground, and our studies show the cities won’t support even our smallest store.  And in other towns, negotiations drag on like a dragon.”  Willow Dream chuckled at his atrocious pun.

“Studies?” I asked.

“Market research,” Fair Deal answered.  “The most important part of opening a new store happens before the first brick is laid.”

“Can I read this market research?” I asked.

“I insist,” Fair Deal replied.





As my job duties were rather trivial, I had a lot of time available to read, and so I looked at the market research that had been done for two recent store openings.  Phoenix, in the arid southwest, was a growing pony town.  Bullsa was an older plains town, and a major hub for trading with the buffalo.  Both towns had their first Rich’s Barnyard Bargains opened last year.

The research started with the towns themselves.  History, geography, demographics, projected growth.  Major industries, resources, and income.  The studies documented infrastructure, particularly railroad connections to the town.

The next section considered the competition, showing where the ponies now shopped and challenges that the new store would face.  I learned how different competitor stores approached their consumers in different ways.  Many duplicated the friendly environment of the local market, but others focused on fast service, select items, or products hard to find locally.  The conclusion of this research, of course, was where the new Barnyard Bargains would fit.

The final part of the package included standard business documents, like budgets and sales plans.  They presented clear goals for the manager of the new store, which looked challenging to meet.

One thing I noticed is how similar the two reports were.  Notably, there was no adjustment of the strategy for dealing with the buffalo population around Bullsa.  Wouldn’t there be different business opportunities there?  The reports were entirely too focused on selling to ponies.

The map of store locations at the front of the office had a number of gaps.  I realized that many were in the parts of Equestria with large populations of deer, goats, donkeys, buffalo, and other non-pony races.  If I could understand how best to sell to them, then that would suggest a new growth strategy for Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.

Meanwhile, two other expansion opportunities for Rich’s Barnyard Bargains seemed to appear on the agenda of some meeting or another at least once a week.  Manehattan and Fillydelphia were two of the biggest cities in Equestria, but the company still hadn’t established a store in either city.  I found various market research reports.  It wasn’t as if there was a lack of demand.  Both cities were business centers, and the reports suggested the Fillydelphia area could support three stores, and the greater Manehattan area as many as eight.

Everything written in these reports, everything said in the meetings, it all sounded the same after a while.  I heard long words, spoken in the most roundabout matter, but I was able to figure out what it all meant.

It came down to politics.

I thought about what I had learned about my family and myself.  My friend Silver Spoon said my talent was reading ponies, letting me lead them.  I could play the game of politics.  But this was a talent that didn’t come easy to my father.  He, on the other hoof, knew the business.  He came up with the plan that grew Rich’s Barnyard Bargains into the Equestria-wide retailer it was today.  And now I had the inkling of a new business plan.

Both business and politics were skills that would take time to develop.  But I could start working on them now.

On the way out, I stared at the large map of Equestria.  My hoof traced over colors, moving from green to yellow to brown, stopping under the name of a northern mountain town.  There was one pony I knew who could help me understand both topics.





Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


Golden Sky
Golden Skies Resort and Lodge
100 Jennet Lane
Jackson Colt, P.E.


July 13, 1478 AC


Dear Uncle Golden Sky,


I am working an internship at Barnyard Bargains this summer, learning more about how my company operates.  I remember you mentioned there was no store in Jackson Colt, and I think the only store in the cities where you have resorts is in Damver.  These towns and cities are at least comparable to Ponyville, and some are much larger.  The difference, however, is that there are fewer ponies in these cities.


I wonder if we haven’t done enough to make a store for all Equestrians.  From what I saw of your snowboard resort, you don’t have that problem.  What can you tell me about your resort that makes it attractive to all Equestrians?


Your niece,


Diamond Tiara





Golden Sky
Golden Skies Resort and Lodge
100 Jennet Lane
Jackson Colt, P.E.


Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.


July 21, 1478 AC


My dear niece,


I think you have recognized something that took me at least three years in business to learn.  Ponies are different from other races.  While we recognize the obvious differences, we are too quick to believe we think alike and have nearly identical goals.

If you were put in charge of equipping my resort, you’d probably guess you need different equipment for goats, given that they’re obviously smaller.  You might not think the same thing about donkeys, with our similar sizes.  But a donkey’s hoof is slightly differently shaped than a pony’s hoof.  My resorts have snowboards fitted specifically for donkeys for that reason.  They can use pony equipment, but it doesn’t fit well.

I think pony stores don’t fit well for non-ponies.  Not just Barnyard Bargains, but everything from the local flower seller on up as well.  All I’ve learned in my thirty years in business is a motley assortment of facts.  Donkeys like their desserts to be less sweet.  Goats don’t like plain dried alfalfa.  Buffalo rarely agree to a business deal on the first day, even simple ones.

I can’t even begin to understand what business is like in the griffin and minotaur nations.

In short, I think you have the right idea, but I can’t say how well it will work.  Can a store the size of Barnyard Bargains “fit well” for all Equestrians?  You could do worse things than trying to learn the answer to that question.


Your uncle,


Golden Sky


P.S. If you want to learn more, my resorts are always looking for “interns” over the winter holidays!





I clutched my uncle’s letter in my hooves, reading it one more time before going to bed.  The candlelight flickered over his sage advice.  Yes, I could do worse things than try.  Doing the same things my father did would be the safe move, but I calculated that Barnyard Bargains would plateau, and then struggle.

No, I had to try.

I blew out the candle and rolled over in my bed.  The night was quiet, the soft breathing of Apple Bloom barely audible.  In my head, I sketched out plans for my future.

First step was finishing my last year of primary school.  Secondary school would be a must, and likely study at the university level.  Math, accounting, business.  History and psychology.  I’d want to take every opportunity to learn about the other cultures in Equestria.  I could travel once I was older, perhaps spending a summer out west.  But I should begin learning now, with independent study in the library.

I woke up feeling invigorated.  Even if all I was doing was digging through files and pouring tea, I wanted to go to work.  I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

I turned my head and sighed.  I still didn’t have my cutie mark.

> Chapter 22: Crystal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 22: Crystal





“Letter for you, Diamond Tiara!”

Applejack passed me a letter, its return address indicating it was from my aunt Crystal Crown.  Among the ponies I had been communicating with via mail, I heard from Golden Sky and Silver Spoon frequently.  Crystal Crown wrote less frequently, maybe every other month, keeping me updated on what she was doing with her life.  Typically, she wrote about her art and her community of artists.

Her current letter included more of the same, but with an addition.


There will be a display of my work at one of the Manehattan museums, as part of an exhibit concerning the New Loft Movement.  It begins August 15 and runs for five weeks.  I expect you’ll be heading back to school in September, but if you are free before then, I would be happy to have you visit.

“Applejack, my aunt has invited me for a visit.” I said.

I noticed Applejack’s face twist briefly into a scowl before returning to a more neutral expression.  “You don’t say,” she said noncommittally.

“You didn’t care for her when we bumped into her,” I mentioned.

“I know.”

“Do you remember why?”

“It’s hard to put my hoof on it,” Applejack said.  “It’s just a first impression, but I’ve learned to trust them.  Now, you’ve been writing to her.  What do you think of her as a pony?”

“It’s hard to say, just reading and writing letters,” I replied.  The first thing that came to mind is how she liked to talk about herself.  But that’s hard to avoid, especially without having any shared experiences.  It wasn’t much different from my own letters, where I talked about everything I was doing in Ponyville.

“But like I’ve always said, family is important, even the family you don’t particularly care for.  Now, I don’t want you to hop a train to Manehattan by yourself, but I do know Rarity is taking Sweetie Belle to Manehattan sometime before school starts.  You go and work out a schedule, and you can go.”

I nodded.  “That sounds good.  Thanks, Applejack.”





“So what are you going to do in Manehattan?” I asked Sweetie Belle.

“Well, officially, I’m there to help model her dresses,” she explained.  “But she also wants to check out music schools and stuff.  And maybe some of those high society contacts of hers can make some introductions.”

“Do you really want to go to Manehattan?”

“I’d prefer to study in Canterlot.  That way, it would be a short trip home, rather than a whole day trip,” Sweetie Belle said.  “But Canterlot conservatories are heavily focused on classical music.  And right now, I don’t know what kind of music my voice will best be suited for.”  She sighed.  “I know I’m going to have to leave Ponyville.”

“In any case, I need to talk to your sister.  Can we stop by the boutique?”

“Sure,” Sweetie Belle said.

We headed over to Carousel Boutique, where Rarity was again working on a dress.  Once I mentioned my situation to her, I felt myself lifted onto the pedestal.  Her previous work set aside, I watched as fabric and ribbon and gems flew around the room.

“Artists.  No, Manehattan artists.  Something trendy.  No, something retro; retro is trendy.  Something unique.  Something that says ‘I am Diamond Tiara, and I am a unique pony.’  Color.  A splash of bold color.  Something that would make a Canterlot noble stop and gasp.  But only a little.”  Rarity’s musings helped distract me from the fact that there were several needles flying around.

In record time, I had two new dresses, not like anything else in the boutique, but undeniably a Rarity creation.  And again, she refused any payment.

Her paying customers must really pay a lot.





The arrangements were made.  I wrote back that I would visit my aunt for the last week of August, and sent a telegram with my travel plans.  Applejack continued to fuss.  “Now you remember where Rarity and Sweetie Belle are staying,” she said, right before I headed to the train station.

I just nodded, her worry making me feel a little uncomfortable.

The trip to Manehattan was uneventful, and a lot less interesting than a trip with all of us.  We spend a lot of time sitting quietly, watching the countryside fly by.  I separated from Rarity and Sweetie Belle outside Grand Central Station, taking a carriage to my aunt’s apartment building.

Immediately after stepping out of the carriage, a bellhop had collected my bags, and the doormare let me into the building.  “I’m here to see Crystal Crown,” I told her.

The doormare pressed a button; a harsh buzzing sound issued from her station.  A few minutes later, a middle-aged earth pony mare who looked somewhat familiar came out of the lift.  She spotted me and trotted over, embracing me.

“I’m so happy you came to visit,” Crystal Crown said.  Before I could respond, she issued a quick request to the bellhop.  “Please take those bags to apartment 208.”

The bellhop nodded and departed.  “How was your trip, Diamond Tiara?” my aunt asked me.

“Pretty uneventful,” I said.

“Let’s get you settled in,” she said.

The pony operating the lift took us up to the second floor of Crystal Crown’s apartment building.  The bellhop was waiting for us.  Crystal Crown opened the door, let the bellhop unload my bags, and tipped him on the way out.

Once the door closed, I had a chance to see Crystal Crown’s apartment.  It was spacious, like the home of Aunt and Uncle Orange.  The design was quite open and uncluttered, with only a few pieces of art on the wall.  They all appeared to be made of crystal.

I approached the nearest display, a flower fashioned of many pieces of multicolored faceted crystal.  A sungem illuminated the piece; the magical light capturing the brilliant light of the afternoon sun, the hint of yellow in the light making the display feel warmer.  With each step I took, the light reflected and refracted in subtly different patterns, making it look like a completely different work.

“Do you like it?” Crystal Crown asked me.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“It’s flawed,” she replied.  “That was one of my earlier works, and that’s why it’s not in the hooves of a museum or a private collector.”

“But you still spent the time and money to display it.”

“It still means something to me.  It reminds me that there’s always room to improve,” she stated.  “Let’s get you into your room, and then I’ll give you the tour.”

Crystal Crown’s guest bedroom was similar to the rest of the apartment, sparsely decorated.  The double bed was clean, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while.  The tour didn’t take long.  The entire place was beautiful and looked ready to entertain guests, save for one room Crystal Crown called her “inspiration room”.  Like the one Rarity had, it was an organized mess, except instead of fabric, she had piles of junk.  Strangely, I didn’t see anywhere where she stored her crystal.  Then I remembered that she said she wasn’t working with crystal anymore.

My aunt interrupted my musings.  “Are you hungry, Diamond Tiara?” she asked.

“Yes.  I didn’t eat much on the train,” I said.

“Then let’s get something to eat.”  She stared off into the distance.  “Now where to go?  There are so many nice bistros in the area.”

“I won’t be picky,” I said.  “Anything’s probably different than what I’m used to in Ponyville.”





Bistro Mareseilles, as near as I could tell, combined elements of Prench and Equestrian cuisine.  Our dishes starred garden-fresh vegetables in sauces heavy with cream and butter.  Despite the heavy sauces, the small portions left me feeling unsatisfied.

“Do you want dessert?” Crystal Crown asked.

I nodded.  “I’m used to the farm, where we eat a lot more.”

“Go ahead and choose a dessert.  But I’ll pass.  There’s no way I could eat that much food and stay healthy.”

I ordered a flourless chocolate torte, something I would probably never eat at home.  Once the waiter departed, Crystal Crown asked me “So what else have you been doing in Ponyville?”

“I didn’t know it was possible, but I have been extremely busy, even after school ended,” I said.  “I helped my friends discover their special talents, even my adopted sister, who spent long hours building a giant machine.  At the same time, I’ve been working on the farm.  I’m not strong enough to harvest apples like my family, but I’ve been able to use my magic to make the apples grow and to help my sister harvest them.”

“That’s nice.  I was never very good at using my magic,” Crystal Crown said.

“Did you ever do farm work?” I asked.

“Huh?  Me?  No, I never needed to.  I remember school projects, you know, the ones where you plant a seed and track its growth?  I had a hard time making those pea plants grow.”  She shrugged.

“I think I was in your situation once, but with a little help, I was able to connect with the trees in the orchard.”  I thought for a moment.  “Since your cutie mark is related to crystal, maybe you would have had better luck with mineral magic?”

“I never thought about that.  I always thought the idea of rock farms was silly, no matter how important Father said their work was.”

“And I just finished working an internship at the Barnyard Bargains offices in downtown Ponyville.”

Crystal Crown frowned.  “You shouldn’t feel like you have to work there, just to honor your father,” she said.

“But I want to work there.  I feel that very clearly,” I affirmed.

“But what if your special talent is something else?” she asked.

I fell silent.  What if that was true?  What if my talent was something other than business?  I know I had experienced that same level of intense dedication I saw in Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom over this spring.  I didn’t know why I didn’t get....

“Shouldn’t you have your cutie mark after working for the summer?” Crystal Crown said.

“I had a cutie mark once,” I reminded her.

“What?  Oh, yes, you said that.  Wait.  How does that work?”

I shrugged.  “Nopony knows.  It might have been tied to some aspect of my personality I can’t remember.”

“You said you wanted to try to get an art cutie mark, right?  I’d love to share my art with you.”

I thought back to what I had written to my aunt.  I recalled it being more along the line of one of our typical crusades, back before my friends got their cutie marks.  And my attempt at painting didn’t go so well.

But learning more about my aunt’s life was what was important.  “I’d love to learn about your art,” I said.





At breakfast the next morning, I asked my aunt a question that had been on my mind.  “Why did you give up on working with crystal?”

“There was nothing left to be said with crystal,” she replied.

I remembered that from her letter.  “But what does that mean?  I looked at your crystal work here, and I really liked it.  Isn’t that art speaking to me?”

“It’s hard to explain.  How much have you studied art?” she asked.

“Only those brief art classes in school.  But the kind of art we do in elementary school isn’t worthy of the name,” I said.

Crystal Crown laughed.  “True.  So true.  Now, about your question.”  She paused.  “I see art as a way of understanding the deeper truths in life, those things that everypony should try to know.  It’s not enough to be technically proficient, if there’s no inspiration in your art.  If you want a portrait that perfectly portrays you in a static image, it’s easier to use a camera.  I’m happy you find my crystal artwork beautiful, despite the horrible flaws, but I don’t feel anymore that a crystal flower captures the hidden truth of a flower.”

“Anymore?  You did in the past?”

“I thought I did, before I learned more about art,” Crystal Crown replied.  “Because I found my first artistic success and my cutie mark working with crystal, I stayed with the medium for far longer than I should have.”

“Do you still have any crystal?  If I’m going to try my hoof at art, I think that would be easier to work with than... all the other things in your inspiration room,” I said.

Crystal Crown nodded.  “I have a lot in storage.  I couldn’t bear to discard anything.  I know that the moment I throw out the material, I will want to use it in my current project.”

I laughed.  No matter what you did or where you lived, that was so true!





I waited in Crystal Crown’s art studio until she entered, carrying bundles wrapped in cloth.  The way they gently clinked, they sounded like, well, crystal.  She opened the bundles, placing the colorful crystal on a rubber pad in front of me.

“So, what can I do with these?” I asked.

“There’s a lot you could make with crystal, but for somepony new to art, I suggest making a two-dimensional image, similar to stained glass, using this crystal.  If you like what you create, we can solder it together.”

Crystal Crown headed over to her own part of the room, with some sculpture in process.  To be honest, it looked like junk the first time I entered this room, but given the attention she focused on it, it was obviously a work in progress.  Soon, she was lost to the outside world, utterly focused on her art.

I looked at the crystal in front of me.  There were a multitude of colors, but I was restricted by the geometric shapes of the pieces of crystal.  Whatever I pictured in my mind would have to be rendered in triangles, rectangles, and semicircles.

I pictured an apple tree in my mind.  But no matter how stylized I made this image, there were colors, blues and purples, that didn’t fit.

But there was one apple that could use every color of crystal.  The zap apple.

I moved colorful crystal until it formed bands that suggested the stripes of a zap apple.  It was certainly not accurate like a photograph, but I could see the rainbow pattern in my mind.

The picture was too big.  To picture an orchard, or even a tree, at this scale would be impossible.  I thought about it.  What if this was a picture of the zap apple grove, but at an unusual angle?  I pictured a pegasus’ eye view of Sweet Apple Acres, moving the point of view until an image appeared in my mind.

I grabbed pieces of crystal like a madmare, surrounding the prismatic image with shades of green, streaked with browns and oranges, tinging the edges of the image with dark blues.

I didn’t even notice that Crystal Crown was looking over my withers.  “A zap apple tree?” she asked.

I nodded.  “I tried to capture a sideways look at a tree, focused on one apple.”

“That’s pretty good.  You haven’t studied art before?” she asked.

“No, not at all.  Last time I tried painting, I remember my perspective being way off.”

“Your perspective is still off, but that’s okay.  This medium is a lot more forgiving.”  She looked me in the eye.  “So what do you think?  Would you like to keep this?”

“Sure,” I said.

Crystal Crown brought out this strange copper stripping, with an adhesive on one side.  She had me wrap the edges of each piece of crystal.  I started at one end of my image, and she started at the other.  Soon, the image was reassembled, except with this copper covering the edges of the crystal pieces.

“This next part is one I’m going to have to do myself,” Crystal Crown said.  She took a spool of what looked like very thick wire and unwound a section.  With a twist, she tore off a piece.  She wrapped it in an insulated grip, like a very small version of the mouth protectors used to take a hot pan out of the oven.  Finally, she gripped a cylindrical device with a metal tip in her pastern, tapping a crystal.

The metal tip of this device glowed slightly.  I could feel the heat coming from it.  Crystal Crown placed it next to the silver wire.  Before my eyes, the metal melted, landing on my crystal creation.  I noticed the molten metal adhered to the copper.

When she finished, Crystal Crown pulled me away from my workstation.  “We need to wait for the solder to cool.  Then we can polish it and see if it needs any adjustments.”  She turned from my work to hers.  “That’s it!” she said, the look of mad inspiration in her eyes.  She turned back to my workstation and searched through the leftover pieces of crystal.  “Where is it, where is it?” she muttered.  She then looked at my crystal creation, focusing on one particular piece of crystal.  “That!  I need that!”  She sighed, exasperated.

“Sorry,” I said.

“It’s my fault.  I told you it would happen.  I never knew I needed a long piece of blue crystal for my sculpture until the moment I no longer had one.”

Undeterred, Crystal Crown searched through her pile of junk.  I guessed the strips of tinfoil she found replaced the crystal.  No longer working myself, I could focus on how my aunt created.  Her moves to me looked random at first, connecting what looked like bits of junk together.  But after watching her more closely, I could see it wasn’t random.  Each new piece was carefully placed, attached with wire or glue only after being adjusted to a specific position.

I still had no idea what she was sculpting, though.





“Sorry I spent so long in there,” Crystal Crown said.  Her fit of inspiration had her working another two hours.

I looked up from the book I was reading; this book was one of many on art and art history my aunt had on her bookshelf.  “That’s okay.  It was nothing compared to the amount of time my adoptive sister spent building a giant machine.”

“So, reading about art?” she said.

“Yeah.  This book looked interesting.”

“I have a better idea.  Let’s go to a museum,” Crystal Crown said.  “There are so many to choose from, and it’s nice to be able to go with somepony.”

“Do you go to the museums a lot?” I asked.

“At least once a month, and that’s not counting exhibits,” she replied.  “If I’m looking for inspiration, or if I’m just in the mood, I’ll visit one of Manehattan’s museums.”

“I went to a museum last time I was here.  The Manehattan Museum of Art, I think.”

“An excellent choice,” Crystal Crown commented.  “If you’re a traditionalist,” she added.

I shrugged.  “I’m just a tourist.”

“I think I know the place to go,” Crystal Crown said.

We departed and walked what had to be several miles to get to the Museum of Modern Art.  If the architectural style of the building was any indication, the art inside was going to be extremely unusual.

“Is this the museum that’s showing your art?” I asked.

“No.  My art is too modern for the Museum of Modern Art,” Crystal Crown stated.  “I promise you’ll get to see it before you leave.”

We spent a good three hours in the museum.  Crystal Crown set her own schedule, and with nothing planned, we could spend as much time with each exhibit as we desired.  The art wasn’t as easy to understand as the exhibits in the Manehattan Museum of Art.  In fact, some of the paintings were truly bizarre.  Fortunately, each wing had a description of the art school and what it hoped to evoke.  It made the distorted pony faces and surreal landscapes make more sense, though it wasn’t clear who decided these styles were worthy of being in a museum.  There must have been time involved in reaching this consensus, as the works in the museum were mostly between thirty and one hundred years old.

Some ponies took a risk with their art, and created a style that would be recognized for years to come.  By the time I was as old as Granny Smith, would my aunt be similarly recognized?





My week in Manehattan persisted in much the same manner.  We visited several other museums, ate at a number of trendy restaurants, and shopped at a variety of hip stores.  Crystal Crown didn’t actually buy much of what these shops sold, but she often came away from them with something else: a wire tie, the top of a wooden crate, even stained brown paper.  She would come home, and head straight into her workroom, normally incorporating whatever junk she had acquired into one of her works in progress.

On Friday night, I would finally get to see my aunt’s work on display.  The museum currently showcasing her work was holding some kind of party.  It was a chance for artists to mingle with art fans.

“It’s also a chance to drink yourself silly and embarrass yourself,” Crystal Crown added.  Her expression didn’t reveal if she had been that pony at one point.

I headed to my bedroom to get dressed.  I pulled out one of Rarity’s new dresses, a simple black dress that would reveal bold flashes of red and purple as I stepped.  The bow in my hair didn’t fit the image, so I chose to wear my tiara.  I added a silver necklace, a gift from Silver Spoon.  It took me a while to get everything looking right.

Crystal Crown, on the other hoof, was ready very quickly.  She had donned a black jacket, in a style that wasn’t commonly seen in Ponyville, and a black beret.  The clothes wouldn’t be out of place on a mare or a stallion.  They did serve to draw my eyes instead to her crystal necklace and brooch.

We left Crystal Crown’s apartment and walked to a part of Manehattan I hadn’t seen.  The other museums were in the heart of Manehattan, surrounded by tall buildings and prominent landmarks.  This time, we were heading towards the ocean.  The neighborhood appeared to be in the middle of a redevelopment, with large industrial buildings being repurposed.

“What is this neighborhood?” I asked.

“This used to be one of the prominent port districts of Manehattan.  But it was difficult to keep the harbor dredged, and the increasingly large ships necessitated expanding port facilities to the south.  But nothing in Manehattan remains unchanged, and so a number of ponies have moved in, transforming the neighborhood.”

“You don’t see anything like this in Ponyville,” I said.  “Of course, we can just build new neighborhoods when we need them.”  That Ponyville is growing is just one of those facts I don’t remember learning, but I had seen it myself over the past ten months as well.  Having a princess in town, the nearness to Canterlot, and the presence of the Elements of Harmony meant big things would happen in Ponyville.  But Manehattan was an entirely different city.

Our destination was one of these old warehouses.  A simple sign outside announced the event as “The New Loft Movement – New Boundaries in Art and Form”.

“What was the Old Loft Movement?” I asked.

“There wasn’t one,” Crystal Crown replied.

“Huh?”

“It’s a name an art critic came up with after an early show in a converted loft.  The name stuck,” she explained.

The interior of the warehouse was enormous open spaces, plain brick, exposed fixtures, and concrete pillars.  The interior was broken up by the installation of freestanding screens, forming alcoves, each with between three and six exhibits.  The art was of a variety of sizes and shapes, but all were made of reused items.

The ponies inside the transformed warehouse were as varied as the art exhibits.  Mane styles and outfits that would receive questioning looks in Ponyville didn’t receive a second glance here.  Many of the ponies accessorized their outfits with small pieces of reused metal junk.  Surprisingly, it worked.  Judging by these ponies’ cutie marks, about half were artists experienced in other media, while the rest came from seemingly random backgrounds.

Crystal Crown introduced me to a number of her contemporaries, names passing in a blur as I tried to link them to faces.  Once introductions were out of the way, she encouraged me to explore the exhibit.

My first stop was the refreshment table.  I was hungry.

I frowned at the food offerings.  There was an assortment of bite-size sandwiches with fillings I had to assume were chosen to be eclectic.  Mushrooms and quince paste?  Hay and lemongrass?  Daisies and pickled plums?  A few of the offerings tasted good, but too often I had to quickly swallow an obnoxious sandwich and chase it with a glass of water.

Finally, I got to study the art.  But I wasn’t feeling inspired.  The name of each piece was either lofty and grandiose or rather specific.  But looking at the sculptures, I saw the individual components, not the artist’s vision.  A sculpture called “Rat Dog” looked like neither a rat nor a dog.  “Great Heights” wasn’t a tall piece at all.

I thought about what I had read about art recently, but that didn’t help either.  So I listened to the artists and critics as they talked.  They assessed the works by talking about “what is said by what is not there.”

I didn’t get it at all.

For some reason, I remembered something from school over the winter, when a science fair project made by Snips and Snails fell apart on them right before they were going to present it.  Stick the resulting mess together with glue and wire, and I don’t think I could distinguish it from this art.

All I could do is look at the art again and again.  I focused most on the seven pieces Crystal Crown had contributed to the exhibition.  As I looked at her “Frequency and Severity” for the fourth time, I felt a hoof on my withers.

“What do you think?” Crystal Crown asked me.

My jaw moved, but nothing came out as I struggled to find a response.  “Sorry, I don’t get it,” I finally replied.

I expected to see anger, or at least disappointment, but Crystal Crown smiled warmly.  “Don’t feel bad, Diamond Tiara.  This is very challenging art, and I’m happy you’ve tried to understand.”  She glanced around the room.  “The critics will be presenting prizes soon.  After that, let’s make a fashionably early departure.”

I nodded, and headed back to the refreshment table for another brie and chamomile flower sandwich.

Soon, I was standing by my aunt as the critics announced their prizes.  Each prize announcement was greeted with quiet applause, the gentle clopping of hooves on the concrete floor.  It wasn’t the loud applause of home.  But the way the noise carried through the transformed warehouse, I understood why they did it.  I applauded, softly, as Crystal Crown received a critic’s choice and an honorable mention that night.

Following the awards, I watched as Crystal Crown said goodbye to a couple of ponies.  After that, we slipped out the door, and headed back home.  The night was dark, but Manehattan, keeping to its reputation as the city that never sleeps, was still full of activity.

“Let’s stop for pizza,” Crystal Crown suddenly suggested.

I raised an eyebrow at her.  “I’m all for that, but... well, I wasn’t expecting you to be a pizza kind of pony!”

“Normally, I’m not.  But hey, I need something to get the taste of those awful sandwiches out of my mouth.”





The next day was when I would return home.  I would meet Rarity and Sweetie Belle at the train station, and take the afternoon train to Canterlot and Ponyville.  Crystal Crown had promised me brunch at one of the best brunch restaurants in Manehattan before I departed.

While she was getting ready, I was pacing around her workshop.  I looked at her works in progress, trying again to see the inspiration.  I compared them with the simple crystal art I had made, to her own crystal work, to the exhibits in the museums.

“You have plenty of time, if you want.”

I turned to face my aunt.  I hadn’t heard her enter.

“I think you have some talent in art, and I’d encourage you to develop it,” she continued.  “With the right study and practice, you could really leave your mark on the world.”

Looking at my aunt, I was struck by how similar her cutie mark was to the one I once had.  Did that suggest a similar talent?  But while I appreciated her support, nopony else noticed a talent for art in me.  “I don’t know,” I said.  “It seems like a long shot.”

“But you’re able to take the long shot, something most ponies just can’t do.  It’s a waste of opportunity if you don’t try.”

“I’m not sure I get what you’re saying,” I said.

“I was never good with business, but I have kept the small share of Barnyard Bargains I inherited from your grandfather.  That five percent allows me to live my life without having to worry about my next art sale.  It’s almost a cliché that art isn’t truly appreciated until the artist passes.  It might take that long, it might not, but what’s important is that I don’t have to compromise my art in the here and now.  And you have this gift of time as well.”

I really didn’t know what I was going to do.  If I just had my cutie mark, maybe I’d know.  But having seen both my aunt and uncle, I now understood something they shared with my father.

They were doing something they loved.  And what could be a better goal than that?

“Thank you, Aunt Crystal Crown,” I said.  “I may not follow in your hoofsteps, but you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

She smiled back at me.  “Now let’s eat!  You should see the quiche bar this restaurant has!”





I was very happy to see Rarity and Sweetie Belle again.  Manehattan is a fascinating city, but I wanted to get back to the slower pace of the small town I loved.  Rarity was in a very good mood, and she couldn’t stop talking about all the business deals she made.

The trip back to Ponyville seemed to fly by much faster.  That was because we all had experiences to share.  Of course, I heard about all the dresses Rarity would soon be making, hopefully for paying customers.  Rarity seemed jealous of all the museums I visited, and showed a macabre interest in the bizarre fashions I described of the artist ponies I had met.  Sweetie Belle had plenty of tales of the eccentric musicians she met.

Like me, Sweetie Belle was returning from Manehattan less certain of her ultimate path in life.





At the train station in Ponyville, Applejack was there to greet me.  “Welcome home, sugarcube,” she said, embracing me.  “How was the week with your aunt?”

“It was interesting,” I said.  “She’s an artist, and obviously very passionate about her work, even if it left me feeling totally lost.”

“The world needs artists too, I suppose,” Applejack muttered.  “Hope you didn’t get on a late night Manehattan schedule while you were there.  School starts in two days, and I’m not going to let you skip your morning chores.”

I yawned.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll go to sleep early.”

We made it home, and we took my luggage straight to my bedroom.  There was an envelope resting on my bed.  Applejack noticed it.  “That’s right; you got a letter from Silver Spoon.  Of course, it came the day after you left.  Always happens that way.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand if I’m late in responding,” I said.

I quickly stowed my belongings and jumped on my bed.  By the light of the candle, I read Silver Spoon’s letter.





Silver Spoon
The Meadowfield School
14 Meadow Lane
Canterlot, P.E.

Diamond Tiara
Sweet Apple Acres
One Orchard Way
Ponyville, P.E.

August 22, 1478 AC

Dear Diamond Tiara,


If memory serves, you still have another week before school begins.  Lucky you.  Here, it’s the end of the first week of school.  I have half a dozen syllabi, a dozen textbooks, and two dozen stories from my classmates.  And it’s those stories I dread most.

Do you remember Miss Cheerilee asking the traditional question, “What did you do last summer?”  I wish I were back in Ponyville, answering that question.  (I studied silver etching with a cousin, if you’re wondering.)  At the Meadowfield School, this question is something else entirely.  All I’ve been hearing is stories about the big and important things ponies did over the summer.  They ostensibly were helping others, but it’s obvious that the most important part of these jobs was  to impress other ponies.  Whether peers here or the admissions staff of secondary schools even more exclusive than this school, my classmates’ work served their needs.

There are, mercifully, some exceptions.  My friend Evening Star—he’s the one who carries a silver pocket watch that once belonged to his uncle—spent the summer working at an orphanage in Dodge City.  He did that for no reason other than he was orphaned as a young colt.

Are you considering secondary school?  We talked about it a lot back then, and it’s an obvious choice for you if you’re going to run Barnyard Bargains.  I don’t feel like the education will matter much to me, but it’s expected, and I do need the connections.  I think I’d like to move on to the secondary school at the Meadowfield School campus.  As long as I pass my final exams, I’ll automatically be admitted.

Good luck, and enjoy the school year!


Your friend,

Silver Spoon





I put Silver Spoon’s letter aside and lay on my back, staring at the ceiling.  It was a quiet night.  Even the crickets were subdued.  Images of Canterlot nobles and Manehattan artists trying to impress each other drifted through my mind.  Then I thought about the ponies of Ponyville, hardworking mares like Rarity and Pinkie Pie and of course Applejack.  They weren’t trying to impress anypony, but they impressed me anyway.

I still had doubts about how my life would end up.  But it was crystal clear that the first pony I had to impress was myself.

> Chapter 23: Balance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 23: Balance





My return to school gave me back something I had lost with my memories.  Familiarity.  I was returning to a classroom I knew, meeting students I knew, and learning from a teacher I knew.  The normal post-summer doldrums soon passed as Miss Cheerilee caught our attention and inspired us again.

On the farm, we headed into applebuck season, the time of year when the Apples coaxed the last fruiting out of most of the cultivars of apples.  I now understood why certain parts of the orchard were left untouched in this process; those were the apples used in making cider.  Hearing about the harvest brought back bad memories, of the sacrifices the Apples made for me while I was in the hospital.  But seeing the apples come off the trees made me feel better.  We were making good progress on filling the cellar and turning fresh apples into pies, fritters, and applesauce.

In addition to my chores and schoolwork, I wanted to learn more about the other races of Equestria.  I spent many an afternoon in the library.  Twilight Sparkle, despite being primarily known as Princess Celestia’s personal student, a pony with incredibly powerful levels of magic, a national hero, and Equestria’s newest alicorn princess, was actually a skilled librarian, too.  With her help, I was able to borrow books acquired on interlibrary loan from libraries across Equestria.  The books helped, but I still felt like I had a lot to learn.

Cider season was the next event on my mental calendar.  We all contributed in harvesting the apples, and Apple Bloom even got a turn on the treadmill of the cider press.  Over the three days of selling cider, I was put in charge of sales.  “You’ll get your cutie mark for sure!” Apple Bloom told me.

I loved selling, loved the sound of bit coins as they filled a chest, loved seeing happy ponies and empty cider mugs.  But selling Apple family cider had to be the easiest selling job in all of Equestria.  It didn’t give me my cutie mark.





In between harvesting apples and making cider, I hadn’t thought much about what my adoptive sister was doing with her time.  I had the general idea that while I was studying, she was building something out in the old barn.  Just like when she was in search of her cutie mark, she kept quiet about what she was building, and we respected her desire for secrecy.

Finally, Apple Bloom was ready.  She brought me and the rest of the Crusaders out to the barn.  In one corner, I saw a tarp draped over the two trebuchets she built.  But there was something else here, something even bigger.

“Behold, everypony!” Apple Bloom announced.  “Presenting... the best Nightmare Night costume ever!”  Apple Bloom tugged a rope and pulled down the tarp.

Apple Bloom had constructed an oversized mechanical Nightmare Moon on a wheeled base.  It looked big enough for....

“And all four of us can fit inside and operate it!” Apple Bloom said.  She crawled inside, and demonstrated some features.  The whole thing moved, powered by a motor harvested from a parade float.  The wings could be moved up and down with a lever.  The eyes opened, revealing glittering green emeralds in the shape of Nightmare Moon’s frightening catlike eyes.  And then Apple Bloom opened the mouth.

“Give your Princess her offering of candy, lest you bring about eternal night!”  Apple Bloom shouted through the mechanical monster’s mouth.

I then noticed the large sack Apple Bloom had attached to the base of her creation.

Scootaloo grinned.  “This is going to be the best Nightmare Night ever!”





It was the best Nightmare Night ever.  Last year, with my legs still feeling week, I wasn’t up for collecting candy or wandering around, playing games.  And any year before that, I couldn’t remember.  Maybe I attended a party at my home, or Silver Spoon’s; we probably only invited the “right” ponies.  I didn’t think I would have joined the rest of Ponyville in the festivities.

And Apple Bloom’s creation did earn us an impressive haul of candy.  Every foal respected the princess of the night.  Unfortunately, Applejack stepped in, and made us share our haul with our classmates the next day.

We all participated in the Running of the Leaves this year, in some aspect.  I chose to run in the fun race with Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo.  Our race was uneventful, save for missing one of the turns.  While trying to find the trail again, we slipped down an incline, and ended up covered in tree sap.  When we met up with Applejack again, she took one look at us, and smacked a hoof to her face.  But I still felt happy.  I saw her and Rainbow Dash together, eagerly debating over the details of the race they ran together.

It was also nice to see Applejack again win the prize for felling the greatest number of leaves.

With the main harvest, cider season, Nightmare Night, and the Running of the Leaves over, we set about harvesting the remaining apples and produce from our garden, canning and preserving food for the long winter.  That left only one activity on my mental calendar.  The zap apple harvest.

There was a palpable feeling of anticipation in the farmhouse, as we all waited for the signs of the arrival of the magical apples.  The exact day could not be planned, but it was always in November, before the first snowfall.

We reached the day when we heard the first sign last year, but the zap apple orchard was still.

We passed the day last year when we made the zap apple jam.  Still nothing.

I don’t think I was alone in feeling uncomfortable.  It was all the little signs.  The way Apple Bloom fidgeted with her hooves.  Big McIntosh’s heavy hoofsteps.  The way Applejack pushed through the halls.  Only one pony still appeared calm.

I found a time when Granny Smith was alone.  She was tending to the simmering pot of stew on the stove, humming to herself as she often did.  She noticed my approach, smiling warmly as she turned to face me.

“Have the zap apples ever been this late?” I asked.

“Can’t say they have.  Course, this old noggin isn’t as sharp as it used to be.”  Granny Smith tapped her head with a wooden spoon to punctuate her statement.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Of course I think about it, but there’s not much point worrying about something you can’t control.  In fact, all that Everfree magic has a way of responding if you try,” she said.

“Try what?” I asked.

“Let me tell you about one year.  I was still a spring chicken, not much older than Applejack.  We Smiths had gotten settled in, gotten a little complacent.  Thought we knew everything about those zap apples.  Then that one year, they were late.  Middle of November, and they’d never taken that long to appear.

“We were all worried, but I had this fool idea to interfere.  Thought it would help.  There was a wandering unicorn who liked to visit Ponyville with his cart and magical doohickeys.  Smart, charming, but he had a head as big as his horn.  Later found out that horn was an extension, but that’s beside the point.  Anyway, I asked him to use his fancy magic to get the zap apple trees to bloom.  Of course, he said he could do it, for the right price.

“So, one hundred bits and one cask of apple brandy poorer, I followed him out into the orchard.  He said all it would take was his astounding magic.  His horn glowed all nice and bright, but the trees didn’t care.  He tried a few more spells, but still nothing.  I could see he wasn’t used to hearing the word no, especially when spoken by trees.

“Finally, that huckster stared at the biggest zap apple tree.  He scrunched up his face all fierce, and lightning started collecting around his horn.  He rose into the air, too.  But them this blue flash flowed from the Everfree Forest to us.  Knocked us to the ground, but didn’t do a thing to the tree.  The unicorn got a case of the floppy horn for his trouble, and I lost all the hairs from my mane and tail.  That unicorn never set hoof back in Ponyville again.  And I couldn’t hide what I did.  I spent the whole next year working off my mistake.  And the zap apples came, same as they always did.”

I was thinking somepony like Twilight Sparkle could help, but that now sounded like a bad idea.  We could wait.  “But what if the zap apples don’t come?”

“You’re saying that if the zap apples, after working every year for the last seventy-five years, decided they wanted to rest fallow for a year, you’d tell them no?” Granny Smith asked me.

I really hadn’t thought of it like that.  The idea of thinking of inanimate objects having feelings was odd to me, but it was very much a part of the Apples’ understanding of the magic involved with these zap apples.

“But we need the zap apple jam!” I protested.

Granny Smith looked me in the eye.  “You know, little one, for each of us, there will be a time when we’re told the time for work is over.  How do you think those around us get through that?”

Looking at her aged form, I realized what was on her mind.  It was a transition she must have experienced many times, but she kept her family together.  “We rely on our family.”

“That’s right.  Family will get you through anything.  Now put those worries aside, else I’ll ruin the stew!”

With that, Granny Smith went right back to work, cooking the stew and humming her tune.  She said not to worry, but I saw the way she stole glances out the window.  Worry weighed on her mind as well.





A full week passed.  I stared at the calendar hanging in the kitchen, counting and recounting the ten days left in November.  In the living room, Applejack and Big McIntosh were arguing.  It was just a dispute about the repairs the family should tackle first, but they were shouting at each other.

I had never heard either pony raise their voice like that.

I ran past them and up the stairs, seeking refuge in my room.  I jumped on my bed, covering my head with my pillow.  I tried to focus on something, some other noise, but all I could hear was that infernal argument.

I had to do something.





I stopped by the library after school, just like I did many other days.  But I had a different subject to study this time.

“Are there any books about zap apples?” I asked Twilight Sparkle.

The young alicorn shook her head.  “Certainly not a full book.  And even if there were a book on the subject, I don’t think they could match the knowledge of the Apple family.”

“I know, but I wanted to try something,” I said.

Twilight Sparkle knelt and looked me in the eyes.  “I want you to know that I’ve talked to the girls, and as soon as the zap apples appear, we’re all going to help harvest them.”

“But what if they don’t show up?”

“They will,” Twilight Sparkle said, though I don’t think she believed her own words.

I sat down on the couch and looked at her pleadingly.  “Please, Twilight, is there any mention of zap apples anywhere in here?  I have to do something,” I said.  “Applejack and Big McIntosh were arguing last night.  They never argue.”

Twilight Sparkle stared out the window for a few seconds, and then focused on one shelf.  Her telekinetic aura pulled a thick book off the top shelf.  “Argent Aura wrote the defining treatise on the manifestations of wild magic in Equestria, and zap apples are one of the examples in the Flora chapter.”  She placed the book on the table next to me, open to the right chapter.

I saw illustrations of a zap apple and its tree, both while dormant and fully in bloom.  But that’s all I could understand.  The writer’s prose was dense, passages filled with impenetrable jargon that no doubt required an advanced degree in thaumaturgical studies to understand.

“As you can see, it doesn’t even detail the signs you need to look for.  I wish I could do more to help you.”  Twilight Sparkle sighed, and then turned and started upstairs.  “Please let me or Spike know if you need any more help.”

I idly flipped through the pages of the unhelpful book.  The signs wouldn’t be considered important to somepony who was interested only in the details of the magic involved.

I took the time to think about the signs we were looking for.

“Hey, Spike?” I called.

The baby dragon, looking adorable in his apron, stepped out of the kitchen.  “Yes?”

“I want to check out a book before I go.  For school.  What kind of books do you have on the creatures of the Everfree Forest?”

“Now that I can help you with!” Spike said eagerly.





I came downstairs the next morning, wanting to talk about the zap apples.  I found Applejack in the kitchen, whipping up some apple pancakes.

“Um, Applejack, about the zap apples,” I said.

Applejack turned around quickly, a very sour look on her face.  I felt my rump run into the door frame after stepping back involuntarily.

“Do... do we have all the jars we need?” I asked quietly.

“We do, sugarcube.  Thanks for asking,” she said, with a smile that looked totally forced.

“Okay,” I said.  “I can’t wait for breakfast.”

I sat and watched Applejack cook breakfast.  Each time she flipped the pancakes, she let the pan fall heavily on the stove.  Every move she made was direct, harsh.

I couldn’t bring up that subject again.  But still, I had to try something, and I worked out the plan’s details in my mind.





“Now why in tarnation are you all dressed up?”

I was doing my chores that evening, sweeping and dusting the living room.  The fact that I was doing it in an elegant though ill-fitting gown was what had caught Applejack’s attention.

“I remembered I had these three dresses in my closet.  I haven’t touched them in a year, so I wanted to see if they still fit.  If they don’t, we can give them away.”

Applejack scratched her head.  “That’s kind and all, but aren’t you going to get those dresses all dirty?”

“We can clean them later,” I stated.

Applejack nodded, still looking confused, and returned to her own chores.  Her distraction helped me avoid questions.  I’m sure she still would have noticed if I had lied.  Of course, I didn’t lie; I was planning on giving away these dresses.  

I worked fast, sweating profusely while wearing each of the three dresses.  I had grown over the last year, to the point where tailoring wouldn’t be enough to allow me to fit into these dresses.  I folded each of the dirty dresses and returned them to the box in my closet.

I rested my forehooves on the windowsill in my bedroom and looked out, the stars and moon casting a dim light over the orchard and forest beyond.  It was quiet, just as it had been for months.  And that had to change.





I took a break from cleaning the barn the next evening.  Everypony else had chores in a different part of the farm.  I had also made sure to check the weather schedule in the Ponyville Express that morning; it was going to rain tomorrow.  That made this evening the best time to work on the next step of my plan.

I pulled a box out of the old barn.  I had placed the box with my old dresses there that morning.  I set it next to three hefty stones, each about the size of my head.

Now came the hard part.

I pulled the tarp of Apple Bloom’s improved trebuchet.  I secured a harness to myself and then hooked up its rope to the machine.  I pulled, willing my heavy load to move.

I really wished Apple Bloom were here to help me.  But even she would say my idea was crazy.

This is just like the sledge, I told myself.  Keep pulling, and let momentum aid you.  I finally felt the slight give as I pulled the wheels out of the rut they had made where the machine had been resting.  With considerable effort, I moved the trebuchet outside.

Apple Bloom had talked to me a lot about how the trebuchet worked after she revealed it.  It was pretty simple, load, aim, set the angle, turn the crank, and release.  The fourth step was the hardest.  While Apple Bloom was capable of turning the crank with her mouth and neck, I needed to put my entire body into the movement.  I planted my rear hooves firmly in the soft soil, willing the earth below me to grant me the strength I needed.

After that, the release was anticlimactic.  The old dress, wrapped around the boulder, was fired some distance into the Everfree Forest, though nowhere near the maximum range of Apple Bloom’s dangerous weapon.

I put even more energy into the springs for my next two shots and adjusted the angles, firing the other two dresses further into the Everfree Forest.  The landing spots of the three missiles should have formed an equilateral triangle, pointing to one edge of the forest.

If this didn’t work, there was only one thing left for me to do.





Friday night.  Five days until the scheduled first snow.  By this time, Apple Bloom had been joining me in our room once our chores were complete, as we sought to escape the unhappy emotions coming from downstairs.  She sidled next to me.  “Are the zap apples ever going to come?” she asked.

I placed my foreleg over her withers and pulled her close.  “We’ll pull through, even if they don’t.  That I promise.”

“But we need the zap apple jam!” Apple Bloom protested.

I didn’t know if Big McIntosh ever gave her that lesson on the farm’s finances, how the zap apples were the only way for the farm to pay next year’s taxes.  The contract wasn’t a problem; if the zap apples never arrived because of wild magic beyond anypony’s control, then it would be as if Sweet Apple Acres and Barnyard Bargains had never signed it.  Thinking of that reminded me that there were a lot of ponies that needed zap apple jam.  The buyers in Ponyville.  The store managers looking for the sales the jam would bring.  The fans of the jam across Equestria.  So many ponies would be let down if the apples never arrived.

“I know,” I said quietly.  “I know how important it is.”  I sniffled, finally noticing the tears that were threatening to trickle down my muzzle.  “I want to thank you for welcoming me into your home, even though I didn’t deserve it.  Thank you for teaching me what it’s like to be a family.”

I squeezed Apple Bloom tight.  She squirmed out of my forelegs, looking uncomfortable.  “Uh, you’re welcome, I guess, but what is all this?  You’re sounding like you’re going away for good or something.”

The awkward moment was interrupted by another shout from downstairs.  I crawled into bed, even though it was early, and pulled the covers over my head.  “You’ll be fine, I promise,” I said softly.





I awoke before dawn and crept out of bed.  As quietly as possible, I gathered a few basic supplies: a lantern, some apples and carrots, two canteens of water, and a compass.

I walked in the dark to the edge of the Everfree Forest.  I shuddered, both from the cold air and the foreboding forest before me.  I stepped just into the forest, far enough in that I couldn’t be spotted from the farm, and waited for the first light of dawn.

Once dawn broke, I started walking, checking my compass to make sure I was moving in a generally easterly direction.  I objectively knew that morning was the safest time to be in the Everfree Forest, with its most fearsome creatures active in the evening and night, but I remained alert to the possibility of trouble.  After about an hour of walking, I started looking up, searching for broken branches.

Once I found what I was looking for, I started searching with greater intensity, keeping an eye on the ground.  I found the boulder I had shot into the forest three days prior.  The dress was torn, now just very expensive and dirty rags.  I looked for signs that some creatures had found it, but it looked undisturbed.

I had noticed the nights being quiet.  I finally realized that I hadn’t heard the howl of a timber wolf in months, not since Applejack and Big McIntosh drove away the ones that attacked me and Apple Bloom.  Normally, we heard their call two or three times a month.  Maybe if I had lived on the farm all my life, I might have been able to tune out the howls, but I still noticed each one.  And now, for five months, there had been none, at least none close to the farm.

The book I had read indicated that timber wolves were very territorial, and their foul scents persisted for a very long time.  If my family’s actions had caused a small group of timber wolves to abandon the territory near the farm, it might take an entire year for another pack to move in.  And it would take something unusual to make the original group return.

Say, something they wanted and were once denied.

I checked the compass, turning somewhere between northeast and east-northeast, and went in search of my second missile.





After finding nothing around the second boulder, no sign of the creatures at all, I turned south.  If the timber wolves were truly gone from this part of the Everfree Forest, then that would mean no zap apples for the year.  There’s still the odd possibility that something else triggers the first sign, something that also causes the timber wolves to howl, but that seems like a long shot.

As the morning progressed, and the forest got marginally brighter, I felt my spirits lift.  What I was doing was a long shot for sure, but it felt right to at least try.

Up ahead was a lighter patch.  Looking up, I saw that something had broken branches in the canopy ahead.  My final missile was probably nearby.  The chill wind blew, causing me to shiver.

No.  It wasn’t the wind.  It was the scent carried on the wind.  Sulfur and decay.  Only one thing smelled like that.

I took a step back, a twig snapping underhoof.  The fallen branches collected on the forest floor shifted.

Words I had read recently flooded my mind.  Timber wolves are active in the late evening and night, but can be encountered at any time of day.  They are notoriously light sleepers, and are dangerous no matter when or where encountered.

Several piles of wood were now rising.  The largest pile of wood opened its eye.  There were holes in several of its wooden pieces, each a random gouge with a black substance burned onto the edges.  Most notably, it was missing the part of its head around its left eye.  But its jaws were intact, and dripping greenish ichor.

I turned and ran.  Ran for home.  The creatures’ howls marked their pursuit.  I needed to get close to home.  That was all that mattered.

I ran.  I ran as fast as I could.  I ran between trees, jumped over rocks, ducked under low-lying branches.  I did anything I could to trip them up.  Branches snapped, but still the sound of animated wood and leaves approached closer.  I didn’t know how many were pursuing me.  Six?  Ten?  One hundred?  All the time, I heard their howls, a call and response, an eerie form of communication.  I could hear something missing from the howls, though.

Then there was one more howl.  I knew immediately it came from the alpha timber wolf, the one that wanted revenge on me.  It was loud.  The howl seemed to vibrate through every plant in the Everfree Forest.  The hairs of my mane and coat rose in fright.  I voided myself.  And still I ran.

I could feel the heat and corruption of a timber wolf’s breath on my rear.  My tail was tucked between my legs, to protect it from being grabbed, but I didn’t have long.  The hairs on my hind legs withered as the acrid breath washed over them.  I jumped onto a boulder ahead and leaped blindly to the other side.

When I landed, I lost my purchase on a pile of loose leaves, and slipped to the ground.  I’m sure I sprained something, but I didn’t have time to worry about that.  I scrambled to my hooves, and ran again, only to fall to the ground again.  I heard a sickening crunch.  A scream pierced the air.  Then I realized it was my own.

I finally felt the pain, the unbearable pain, as I realized my left hind leg was in the jaws of one of the timber wolves.  I turned and looked.  It was trying to shake me.  Copious amounts of blood spurted from my leg and dripped from the timber wolf’s jaw.  Its one eye glowed, and the other timber wolves surrounded me.  The first two pounced.  I tried to close my eyes.  They wouldn’t close.

Purple beams of energy blasted the timber wolves back before they could reach me.  A light blue blur leaving a rainbow trail flew straight into another timber wolf, and it too splintered into kindling.  Heavy hooves crushed more of the creatures.  Two other timber wolves stood still, captivated by the eyes of a kindly pegasus.  The chaos grew distant around me.


“She’s going into shock!”
“Somepony get a bandage!”
“Twilight!  Can you teleport her?”
“I can’t!  I’ve used too much energy!”
“Don’t die on us!”
“I’ll fly her!  Get her tied on.”



I felt myself floating.  In the distance, I saw unnatural dark clouds over Sweet Apple Acres, already coursing with strange energy.  I smiled, and closed my eyes.
























































The first part of my body that worked was my nose.  The unpleasant smell of harsh antiseptic registered in my mind.  My nose twitched, then my ears.  They swiveled to pick up a smooth pattern of beeps.

I struggled to lift heavy eyelids.  I winced as I saw intense light.  Opening them again, my eyes adjusted.  It wasn’t a bright light at all.  It might have been morning, though it was hard to tell given the gray cloudy sky outside.  Frost traced a jagged pattern on the window.

I focused on my sense of touch.  What I felt was like a heavy blanket, and beneath that, a throbbing pain in my hind leg.  I regretted my decision immediately, as the pain forced its way to the forefront of my mind.  I moaned.

“You awake, sugarcube?”

I put all my remaining energy into turning my head.  Standing vigil over me was Applejack.

“Don’t try to move too much,” she warned.  “The doc put a really powerful painkilling spell on you, to try to let you rest.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” I croaked.

“The good news is, the docs saved your life and your leg.  The bad news is, you won’t be walking on that leg for a long time.”

“What happened?  How did you find me?” I asked.

“You can thank Apple Bloom for that.  When we didn’t see you at breakfast, and couldn’t find you anywhere, she was afraid you were in danger.  She didn’t relent until we agreed to talk to Twilight Sparkle.  She was also worried, knowing that you had checked out that book on creatures of the Everfree Forest, even though Cheerilee's lesson was last month.  And when Twi cast that spell that said you were somewhere in the Everfree, then we organized a rescue mission with everypony we could get on short notice.  And it’s a good thing we did.”

I let Applejack’s words soak in.

“That’s what you should have done,” Applejack stated.

“What?” I said.

“You should have talked to somepony.  Gotten help.  I’m very disappointed that you pulled a stunt like that.”

“I tried to talk to you,” I said.  “But when I mentioned the zap apples to you, you looked like you were going to rip my head off.”

Applejack bowed her head.  “And I’m sorry for that.  But, still.”  She paused.  “I never told you about the time I tried to handle applebuck season by myself, did I?”

“No,” I said.

“Big McIntosh was injured, so I was the only pair of strong legs on the farm.  And at the same time, I had made promises to help my friends.  I was stubborn, too stubborn, and refused to say no or ask for help.  I gave up sleep.  I made most of Ponyville sick with some bad baked goods.  And then I returned home, and saw that I still had another part of the orchard to harvest.  I admitted that I needed my friends’ help; lesson learned; now let’s put me to bed.

“But that wasn’t the most important lesson I learned that day.  When I got home, and saw Apple Bloom out in the garden, I thought about her.  What if I needed to protect her?  How could I protect the most important things in my life when I was dead on my hooves?  With my condition, the results could have been a lot worse than making a bunch of ponies sick to their stomachs.

“So what I’m saying is, if I’m ever having problems with keeping myself honest, you have my permission to talk to Twilight Sparkle or Rainbow Dash or anypony who can set me straight.  Don’t let me do something so stupid, and I’ll ask the same of you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.  I really felt sorry.  I didn’t think it through.

“So why’d you do it?” Applejack asked.

“I was sure I had the answer.  I knew it was dangerous,” I said.  “But when I thought about the zap apple jam, the farm, everything you built, I thought it was worth the risk.”

“It was more important than you?” Applejack suggested.

“I think that’s the thought that drove me into the Everfree Forest, but taking that to the extremes I did was selfish.”  I pondered that for a moment.  “That’s really not that different from the selfishness I used to show.”

Applejack nodded.

“There are things worth fighting for, and I’m one of those things.  I need to seek that balance,” I said.

“That must be what that means.”

I followed Applejack’s hoof to my flank.  I got my cutie mark!  The black T was familiar from accounting, representing the two sides of the ledger.  On the left was my familiar diamond tiara.  On the right was a rainbow-colored zap apple.  Myself and my leadership, my family and my heritage, all in balance.

I marveled at finally regaining my cutie mark.  I saw Applejack slide something to me.  “I bet you’re hungry,” she said.  “Sorry, the bread’s a bit stale.  You were out for three days.”

I looked at the bread.  All that mattered was the rainbow-colored jam smeared on it.  “It worked?” I gasped.

“Sure did,” Applejack said.  “In fact, all the signs happened faster than we’ve ever seen them.  It’s like that magic was building up, just waiting to be released.”

I bit into the bread.  It wasn’t the multitude of fruit flavors that made the jam taste good this year, it was just knowing there was jam at all.

“Now, Fluttershy had a nice talk with those last few timber wolves,” Applejack said.  “I think they understand they don’t need to go hunting ponies anymore.  But no matter what happens, you are not to use yourself as bait again.”

I laughed, though it came out as more of a wheezing.  “I think I can agree to that,” I said.

“Well, now that you’re awake, I’m going to let the others know.  I bet you’ll be seeing a lot of visitors this time,” Applejack said.  She got up and headed to the door.  I closed my eyes, feeling about ready to fall asleep.

“In fact, there’s one right now,” Applejack called from the door.

I opened my eyes and looked to the door.  Applejack stepped aside to let in a huge light blue earth pony mare.

“You are very correct, Applejack.  I’ll be visiting you a lot over the next few weeks, Diamond Tiara,” Muscle Memory said.  “We’ll get you back on your four hooves.”

I groaned.  I did say I wanted to find balance.  But I didn’t mean the kind of balance that requires brutal sessions with my physical therapist!

> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clean Slate

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc.  I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Epilogue






November 2, 1488 AC
(Ten Years Later)
North Fillydelphia, Principality of Equestria






I prowled the aisles of the newest Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.  Row upon row of quality goods, all awaiting the store’s first customers.  I frowned as I spotted plaster dust coating one of the racks holding winter jackets.  I grabbed a rag and wiped it down.

Around me, ponies moved uncertainly in the tumult of a new store opening.  I looked at one such group.  “If you’re not otherwise engaged, grab a rag or broom and clean up!  I don’t want any sawdust or scraps of paper littering this place when the customers arrive!”

I don’t know if they recognized me, but they recognized that tone of voice, the one saying “I’m in charge.”

Continuing my inspection, I spotted a display that looked off.  I turned to the department manager.  “This display of snow shovels needs to move.  The model train display at the edge of the toy department is going to attract the attention of every colt and filly who steps in the store.  I want a clean line of sight to it from all three of these angles!”  I motioned with my hoof, and the department manager moved to correct the problem.

I finished my tour of the facility, pleased to find almost everything in order.  I strode up to the front office, ready to give my motivational speech.  I heard “All managers to the front” announced over the store’s public address system.

I paced back and forth as ponies assembled, ignoring the pain in my leg that was flaring up.  I would not show weakness.

“In two hours, we will open this store, the first Rich’s Barnyard Bargains in the greater Fillydelphia area.  It won’t be the last, if I have my way, and when the next store opens, I want that manager to say, ‘I know how this is done.  The North Fillydelphia store showed us how.’

“This store is the first exposure for most of the ponies here to the Rich’s Barnyard Bargains traditions of friendly service, wide selection, and bargain prices.  Remember these principles in every interaction you have with your customers.

“And speaking of selection, in this month, we anticipate stocking zap apple jam, rain drops, and cloud puffs.  Each of these is one of the nearly thirty unique products that Rich’s has the exclusive right to distribute across Equestria.  It is these products that bring new shoppers into the store.  Make sure that everypony working here knows about the products and can describe them.  That’s the best way to sell the unfamiliar and to win repeat customers.  You’ll need to manage your supply of these products carefully, as once you run out, that’s it for the year.

“I think that’s enough of my blathering.  I’ll leave you in the capable hooves of Silver Market, the store manager.  Good luck, everypony.”

After accepting the polite applause, I headed outside.





I thought about the store, the first store I opened as president and chief executive officer of Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.  Facts from the executive summary filled my mind.  The store was standard size.  It was established in a growing and prosperous neighborhood.  The nearby streetcar stop enabled even more ponies to be able to reach the store.  And all around, neighborhoods were filled with ponies with busy schedules, an eye for value, and a desire for quick service.  Our target market.

And more importantly, we were located less than a mile from the border with Fillydelphia.  I anticipated a lot of shoppers from the city would make the trip here.

The exterior of the store would tomorrow look much like every other Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.  Today, though, it was a miniature fair.  I saw food vendors, balloons, face painters, even a Ferris wheel.  I could smell the Filly cheese-hay sandwiches, but the butterflies in my stomach told me to pass.  Instead, I went to check on the entertainment I had recruited.

“I’m telling you, you don’t have anything to worry about!” Apple Bloom protested, pounding her hoof on a curved ramp.  She carried her many tools in a workpony’s vest; I noted it was one of the brands carried by Barnyard Bargains.

“And I’m telling you, I’m going to go finish my dive, pick up my scooter hidden in the cloud, and then I’ll be coming down this ramp at a super speed!  I can’t risk it splitting!” Scootaloo said.  She was dressed in her form-fitting bodysuit, the reverse color scheme of blue-trimmed yellow identifying her as a Wonderbolts stunt flier.  I often suspect Rainbow Dash led the charge for the Wonderbolts to recognize fliers whose talents were in something other than speed.

“I’m using a quadruple groove to join together the two pieces, and the whole thing is resin-coated for strength!”  She pounded the ramp again.  “I’d stake my right forehoof on this construction.  That is, unless you’re planning on using my tree-bucket to launch yourself into the ramp.”

“Definitely not!” Scootaloo responded.  “But that would be awesome!”  She pounded on the ramp, determined to see for herself that it was sturdy enough.

“Would you two stop that?” a voice called out from behind the ramp.  “I’m stressed enough as it is!”

“Why don’t you two talk elsewhere?” I told Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.  “I’ll check up on her.”

On the side of the ramp, away from public view, was a makeshift door.  I opened it and slipped inside.

Underneath the ramp was a small stage, with magical lights and amplifiers ready for a concert.  After Scootaloo’s performance, this ramp would slide open, revealing the stage and leading into a surprise concert.  This part of the festivities had not been announced to anypony, and I was confident we had managed to keep it secret.

The performer, Sweetie Belle, was seated in the corner, illuminated by the light of a single sungem.  A cup of cold tea sat on a nearby table, untouched.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Nervous,” she replied.  “And hearing those two talk about failure isn’t helping.”

“I’m nervous too.  But I’m not nervous about your performance, or Scootaloo’s.  You’ve both proven yourselves in countless other shows.  Me?  This is my first store opening, the first major project I’ve led as head of Barnyard Bargains.  The success of this store will reflect on everything I do for the rest of my life.  I’ve staked my reputation on winning this market.

“But there’s one thing I know about business, Sweetie Belle.  Ponies like a bargain, and nothing’s better than getting something for free.  Every pony out there is going to get a free concert from the greatest singer in Equestria, and I guarantee that as soon as you break into Mend This Crystal Heart, you will have the entire crowd cheering for you!  And what’s better than making ponies happy?”

“You’re right.  I just don’t know why I’m feeling so bothered right now,” Sweetie Belle said.

I think I had an idea.  A failure here wouldn’t be letting down some concert promoter she’d never see again.  It would mean letting down a friend.

“As long as you get out there and do your best, I’ll be happy,” I said.  “If you still feel nervous, just pretend it’s just you showing me how to sing again.”

Sweetie Belle nodded and finally took a sip of her tea.  “I’ll do that.”





Stepping out from the stage, I spotted a silvery gray mare, and walked over to her.  Silver Spoon nodded as I approached.  While she didn’t have any role in this grand opening, I wanted my best friend to be here with me.

“I bet this is nothing like those Canterlot parties,” I commented.

“You’re right.  This party is actually enjoyable,” Silver Spoon replied.

I spent four years in Canterlot as Silver Spoon’s roommate while we both studied at Royal Canterlot University.  I got dragged along to more than enough of those parties, so I knew what she was talking about.

“Let’s just say that we’re never planning on opening a store in High Canterlot,” I said.  We both laughed.  “Say, did you see Apple Bloom earlier?”

“No, I missed seeing her.”

“She was wearing a silver bracelet, a gift from her coltfriend.  I do believe it was an Argentia design, bought from Barnyard Bargains.”

“Ah, yes, low class jewelry.  Why, the kind of pony that would buy my hoofcrafted silverware and unique silver jewelry would never deign to associate themselves with the creator of such mass-market trash.”

Silver Spoon stared at me, nodding seriously.  I stared back, mimicking her seriousness.  We lasted about five seconds before we broke out laughing.

“You know, I hated being pressured by my parents to study at a top university, because that’s what I was supposed to do,” Silver Spoon said.  “But it gave me the chance to study chemistry and alchemy, letting me learn ways of making silver alloys that were suitable for everyday wear and quick to produce.  It gives my apprentices the opportunity to practice, and I certainly appreciate having a source of constant revenue.”

“I can imagine your cash flow is otherwise rather uneven,” I said.

“No doubt.”

“What about the real reason your parents sent you to college?  You have a coltfriend?”

“Let’s see,” Silver Spoon said.  “I’m looking for somepony in Canterlot that is of suitable station to make my parents happy, has a level head, and who is interested in a mare who works with her hooves and will get dirty every day.”  She paused.  “Yeah, I don’t see that happening.”

“You’re getting more involved in the supply side of your family’s business, right?  Use those trips outside of Canterlot for something productive.”

“Not a bad idea.  And how about you?  Have your studies paid off?”

“No coltfriend, of course.  The business degree didn’t really teach me anything I didn’t already know, but it helps me in talking with investors, giving them information in the format they want to hear it.  But the cultural studies degree has really helped.”

“I’m guessing it doesn’t have anything to do with this store opening, right?”

“Correct,” I replied.  “I don’t know if you’ve ever sold anything to a donkey before, but they’re really stubborn negotiators.  They’ll haggle over the simplest purchase.  With a set price for everything, Barnyard Bargains is not the place they want to shop.

“But now I have a better idea of why.  They value that feeling of winning.  And while I can’t change our set price policy, I have come up with an idea that will promote the store, will give them that feeling of victory, and can be used by all Equestrians.”

Silver Spoon leaned in, intrigued.  “What is it?”

“A simple slip of paper, entitling its holder to an additional discount on an item we already sell.  I call it a coupon.”

“Interesting,” Silver Spoon said.

“We’ll be rolling out the concept in Damver and Cheyjennet first, and I’ve instructed the stores to reach out to those cities’ large donkey populations.  I’m hoping it will bring more donkeys into the store, but even if it doesn’t work, I think this promotion will be good for Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.”

I noticed the position of the sun, and then checked my pocket watch.  “I’ve got to go kick this off,” I said.  I embraced Silver Spoon.  “Thanks for coming to support me.”

“And thank you for the invitation,” Silver Spoon replied.





“Good afternoon, citizens of North Fillydelphia and visitors.  I’d like to thank you all for coming to the grand opening of the first Rich’s Barnyard Bargains to open in the greater Fillydelphia area.  In one hour’s time, you will be able to see first-hoof the selection, service, and bargain prices that ponies across Equestria have come to love.  But for now, please turn your eyes to the sky, and watch the amazing acrobatics of the Wonderbolts’ own Scootaloo!”

I did want to watch my friend perform, but I’ve seen her practice.  Besides, there was one last detail to handle before the store opening, and somepony I wanted to see.

I found Applejack and Big McIntosh out in front of the store.  The sapling apple tree they brought from Ponyville was resting on the ground.  Applejack wiped her brow and set down her shovel, happy with the hole she had just dug.

The tiny pegasus filly perched on Big McIntosh’s head, cherry red with a pink mane, was the first to notice my approach.  “Auntie Pinkie!” she squealed, bouncing on her father’s head.  Big McIntosh flinched slightly, but he appeared to be used to this.

“I’m not Auntie Pinkie,” I said.  “I’m Diamond Tiara.”

“Auntie Pinkie!  Auntie Pinkie!” she continued

”I don’t think you’re going to win that argument with little Cinnamon,” Big McIntosh said.

“It’s good practice for the Fillydelphia city council,” I replied, smiling.

“So, is that why we’re in this North Fillydelphia place?” Applejack asked.

I nodded.  Even though I was no longer living with the Apples, I found myself at Sweet Apple Acres several times a month.  Rarely were the visits just to talk about a contract.  I could rely on them for advice about both life and business.  The more I learned about my family business, the more parallels I saw in the way the Apples ran their farm.  And they possessed something truly rare.

Honesty.

I could talk to Legal Plan about a proposed business transaction, and know he’d keep it secret because of confidentiality rules.  But that still didn’t feel as safe as talking with Applejack and Big McIntosh.  I could ask them to keep mum about some unannounced deal, and I knew they would.

“I did make one attempt at building a store in Fillydelphia,” I said.  “We have three good sites for a future store.  But the mayor has been playing these games for twenty years.  Negotiations go back and forth, sometimes looking like we’re close to agreement, but then something happens.  Some citizens raise a ruckus, or they want some new study, or a law changes.  I think the day my father died, he was heading to Fillydelphia to deal with one of these emergencies.”

“You must not like this mayor,” Applejack said.

“I won’t do anything but respect him as an adversary,” I replied.  “The mayor is very good at talking about how he’s fighting for the citizens of Fillydelphia, even when all he’s doing is defending the interests of his cronies or political donors.  And if that’s his motivation, then there’s no point in going back there until I have a stronger position to negotiate from.

“So that’s what this store is?” Big McIntosh asked.

“It’s a good place for a store, but it would have been even better about two miles south, within the Fillydelphia borders.  But yes, there’s a strategy at work.  The more ponies who shop at Barnyard Bargains, the more they’ll see the mayor’s fight for the politics it is.  And the bits they spend here mean tax revenue for North Fillydelphia, not Fillydelphia.  In a year’s time, I think the mayor will be ready to negotiate in earnest.”

“Then how did you get this store open?” Applejack wondered.

“I found the town council here to be more open to honest negotiation,” I said.  “They shared a lot of the same attitudes at first.  Fillydelphia is one of Equestria’s oldest cities, and they respect their home-grown institutions here.  In that aspect, at least, the Fillydelphia mayor is being honest.  But I won over the North Fillydelphia town council with a loaf of bread and jar of zap apple jam.”

“Now this sounds like a good story,” Applejack interjected.

“Indeed.  The bread was a loaf of honey wheat bread from Golden Grain’s bakery in North Fillydelphia.  It’s recognized as the town’s best bakery, but other bakeries in the area are just as good or better.  Bringing in that bread symbolized several things.  First, it showed I respected North Fillydelphia as its own town, not just an extension of Fillydelphia.  Second, it pointed out the struggles the newer businesses in North Fillydelphia have experienced.  Third, it was a product Barnyard Bargains didn’t sell, and reinforced the point I would make about how my store fit into the larger retail environment in cities across Equestria.  And finally, it tastes really good with zap apple jam.”

“Maybe we could ask Pinkie Pie to make some of that bread,” Big McIntosh said.

“The zap apple jam was fresh from last year’s batch.  As they savored one of the finest delicacies in the known world, I paced around the room and described how Rich’s Barnyard Bargains is the exclusive seller of dozens of unique products, and how one would have to cross Equestria seven times over the course of a year to buy them all direct.

“I talked about the history of zap apple jam, how it is what founded my great-grandfather’s company.  And then I talked about my own, personal connection to zap apple jam.  I described the magic, I described making it.  And then I recounted the story of how one year, I walked into the Everfree Forest by myself, facing down timber wolves, just so we could produce the jam.  At that moment, I turned around, and they could see this.”

I motioned to the jagged scar on my leg.  The scar, my limp, and the pain I often felt would always be with me, a reminder of what I now understood to be one of my most foolish decisions, even though it worked.

“I like to think my message was clear,” I concluded.  “If I was willing to put my own life on the line, would I really be worried about their decision?  Well, they approved the store plan, and a little less than a year later, here we are.”

“I always knew this was your destiny,” Applejack said.

“I know.  But sometimes, I worry what would have happened if nothing had happened, and I didn’t live with you.”

“Now, sugarcube, I’m sure you would have matured just fine.  We all do.  Well, most of us do,” Applejack said.  I think we all immediately thought about Pinkie Pie.

“It’s not that.  Living with Silver Spoon, I finally learned about my past, and why I acted the way I did.”  This conversation is one I hadn’t had before, but at this moment, I wanted to talk about it.  The new store, the sapling apple tree, all these new beginnings made it feel like the right time.

“It took nearly a year to get Silver Spoon to open up and be honest about who I was.  And once we talked, I understood why she didn’t want to dredge up the past.  She said she noticed a change in me after my mother passed.  I started to become... I guess I’d describe it as self-focused.  I began to see everything only as it related to myself.  I don’t think my father noticed, and the way he helped me cope with the loss of my mother, by giving me anything I wanted, made matters worse.

“Do you remember the time I tried preparing the watering cans for the zap apple harvest, and freaked out?”  Applejack and Big McIntosh nodded.  “I think I was remembering a feeling from the time my father made me help you, before my accident.  What I internalized from that experience was not the wonder at watching wild magic at work, nor the silliness of the whole situation.  I think I recorded that as your attempt to humiliate me.”

“Now that doesn’t sound right,” Big McIntosh said.

“It wasn’t right,” I affirmed.  “I regret that I still don’t remember all the good things from my past, but I’m glad my accident cured me of this negative thought cycle.  And if that didn’t happen, in some way, I would be a terrible leader.”

“Is that why you were so hard on Apple Bloom?  Because you thought her making friends at your cuteceañera was an attack on you?”  Applejack asked.

“I think it made me ramp up my bullying, but it actually started with Silver Spoon.”

“What do you mean?” Applejack said.

“One of the things that was hardest for Silver Spoon to talk with me about was her own influence on me.  She picked up some attitudes from her parents and passed them on to me.  One of them was that having money made us better.  Everypony I’ve talked to said that was the opposite of what my father believed.”

“That’s the truth,” Big McIntosh said.

“Silver Spoon’s parents wanted their money to give her a better life.  They didn’t always do the best things.  But she’s turned into a wonderful mare, and I’m glad she’s again my best friend.”

“What about Apple Bloom?” Applejack asked.

“She’s my friend, but much more like a sister,” I replied.  “Now let’s get this tree planted.”

Big McIntosh lifted the sapling and placed it in the hole.  “It’s not normal to put an apple tree in front of a store, is it?” he asked.

“It isn’t usually done.  Just put a normal tree, and you don’t have to tend to it all year.  All you do is make sure it gets water and sun, and clean up the leaves one day each fall.  Simple.  But it means so much to me that you’re willing to let me tie our families together like this.”

“My pleasure,” Applejack said as she packed dirt around the sapling’s root ball.  “Now you remember Woodrow?  Well, this sapling’s from one of his seeds.”

I placed a hoof gently on the sapling.  “It’s nice to meet you,” I thought.  “Let’s get you settled into the ground, and then you can grow big and strong, just like your father.”  I felt the warmth as my magic connected with the tree and the soil.

“What are you going to do with the apples?” Big McIntosh asked.  “I know you’re not going to sell them.”

“I’m not sure.  Give them away to foals?  Donate them to the needy?  I think I’ll let the store manager decide.  And that reminds me, the offer still stands.  I’d love to sell packaged dried apples in my store.”

“Not going to happen, partner,” Applejack stated.  “Sweet Apple Acres apples will be used fresh, or not at all.”

Overhead, I saw Scootaloo’s routine reaching its exciting conclusion.  “Let’s get over there,” I said to the Apples.  “There’s a special treat in store for everypony, and you don’t want to miss it!”