Der Unter-gang

by monokeras

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Tragedy
Length: 7414

In a world deprived of cutie marks, what could the Cutie mark crusaders possibly become?

Tirek has been defeated, but at great cost: while he has been sent back into Tartarus, none of his misdeeds could be undone. Equestria is left without magic, and… without cutie marks. And so, in grim idleness, the Cutie mark crusaders wonder how to save their club.

But idleness, it is said, is the mother of all vices.

A tragedy in two acts and one epilogue.

This text is paired with Crusade at Midnight Castle by the gifted Carabas and Bring me the head of the Cutie mark crusaders by the effulgent CCC, whose approaches are radically different.

Sleeve courtesy of Psychicwalnut. Proofread by the Equestria-Daily-featured Carabas.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-16 20:11:55 UTC

Act II

It was now the middle of the afternoon, although nothing in the sky betrayed it. After a – more or less faked – nap and a very light lunch, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had gathered again in the clubhouse, joined by Scootaloo. All were pacing restlessly, profoundly distraught.

“I can’t believe we did that!” said Sweetie Belle wagging her head.

“And it’s all your fault! You lured us into going to Sugar Cube Corner,” Apple Bloom accused, pointing one of her hooves at Scootaloo. “And then you decided we could eat what we’d find there.”

“Hey Apple Bloom! It’s too easy to duck your responsibility. You could just decline, quit anytime, or warn me we’d gone too far. What did you do? Tell me, I’m curious. Matter of fact, you did nothing, except pouncing on those pastries! So chill down!” protested Scootaloo. “Girls, we’re all in the same boat now.”

“Can we fix it somehow?” asked a fidgeting Sweetie Belle.

“And how?” wondered Scootaloo. “Maybe by staving in Sugar Cube Corner and saying to the Cakes: ‘Hey! It was us who creeped in the bakery this morning and ate all your cupcakes. Well… we just came to say we’re sorry, but they were so darn good we just couldn’t stop. Well, goodbye for now!’ Do you really think it’ll work?”

“And why not?” replied Apple Bloom. “My sister always says: ‘Stupidity confessed brings half forgiveness’.”

“Maybe your sister would wipe the slate clean,” replied Scootaloo, turning to face Apple Bloom, “but I’m sure the Cakes won’t! Now, if you have a plan B, be my guest.”

But Apple Bloom just lowered her head in embarrassment, scuffing the floor with her right fore-hoof.

“What shall we do then? We cannot just shut ourselves away here waiting for the whole shebang to calm down!” squealed Sweetie Belle.

“Quit whining!” hammered Scootaloo. “Nothing’s gonna happen. Nobody’s seen us. Besides, the Cakes churn out so many different delicacies every day that this will just go unnoticed. It’s like sipping water from a barrel with a straw. Piddling. Maybe they’ll lose some bits, but they can get them back quickly.”

“How?”

“By rising their prices for a couple of days,” explained Scootaloo. “Ever-so-slightly that nobody will notice.”

“But’s that bad!”

“Oh come on! Is it your sister’s influence that makes you such a… prig?”

“Who’s a prig?!” exclaimed a voice in a indignant tone. Startled, the three fillies suddenly spun around; Applejack and Rarity were standing on the threshold of the cabin, and their countenances were rather stern.

“Errr…” Scootaloo bumbled. “It was a prank, of course! I never meant—”

“Sweetie Belle!” cut Rarity in, not waiting for the end of Scootaloo’s excuse. “Come with me. I think we may have something to talk over.”

“You too, Apple Bloom,” said Applejack. “Granny, Big Mac and I would be very happy to be enlightened on some of your latest deeds.”

Sweetie Belle’s and Apple Bloom’s ears dropped. Stooping her head, they began shuffling slowly and silently towards the door. Scootaloo remained behind, somewhat uncomfortable. Then abruptly she stepped forward and shouted: “Don’t blame them! It’s all my fault. I assume full responsibility for whatever happened.”

Applejack and Rarity scrutinized her. “In a case like this you all share a part of responsibility,” declared Applejack harshly. “You no more than the others. You just happen not to have a big sister around. Though I think maybe we should drop a dime to Rainbow Dash…”

“Nooo!” yelled Scootaloo suddenly panicked. “Don’t do that! She’d never forgive me!”

“We’ll see. Meanwhile, you can stay here and mull over.” Both mares whirled and began trotting off, accompanied by their little sister.

“I shall wait right here. Good lu—” replied Scootaloo, but her voice trailed away as Rarity slammed the door shut.

⁂

“So,” began Applejack. “Tell us what you’ve being doing this morning. And this time we want the truth…” All the Apple family had gathered outside the barn; three stools and a table—more a plank raised over two trestles—had been hastily set up; Applejack, Big Mac’ and Granny Smith were sitting behind the table, and Apple Bloom was standing on the other side, looking glumly at the ground. The whole scene look like a rustic tribunal—which it was, somehow, except that Apple Bloom had no lawyer and the jury was definitely hostile.

“Well…” said Apple Bloom. “That speech was so tiresome and tedious that Scootaloo decided we’d just break away and do something else. So I mentioned the bits you promised me to buy a pastry at Sugar Cube Corner and then she said that we could go there, have the pastry and pay later with those bits. Except that… we just couldn’t stop with one pastry and… when we realized we had swallowed about everything, we panicked, ran away and just came out with flimsy excuses…” She broke off and began to sob. “I am… so… so sorry!” she stammered. “We never meant to do anything bad.”

“Yet you did,” replied Applejack.

“Eeeyup!” confirmed Big Mac.

“Ok. Let’s be fair,” carried Applejack on. “It wasn’t that bad, as if you’d destroyed something… which by the way drives me back to where we were yesterday. Now that you’ve confessed one of your mischiefs, haven’t you another one to bring up?”

“Errr…” hesitated Apple Bloom. “Yes, we did a bit of mess down there in the cellar, didn’t we? I mean… somepony threw me an apple, I thought it was Scootaloo so I responded in kind, but it was not her but Sweetie Belle, so Scootaloo retaliated and then… everything went haywire. And at the end one apple struck the stack and it fell. And… I guess we ran away too… just because we were so frazzled—”

“But you knew,” interrupted Granny Smith, “that somebody would have to do the work of putting all the apples back in the crates, didn’t you?”

“I was hoping it would go unnoticed until today. I really planned to fix it today, even all by myself. Honest!”

“What worries me the most,” explained Applejack, “is that you deliberately lied to me. Why did you lie?”

“Well…” hesitated Apple Bloom. “I guess I was just so ashamed I couldn’t even admit to myself I had been that stupid—all I wanted was to squat in a corner and hide away. And when you implied you discovered it I was afraid you’d tell me off or place the onus on me. Oh please, please, please, I’ll do whatever you want to redeem me.”

“Very well, Apple Bloom,” said Applejack. “Your plea has been heard. You can go back to the clubhouse, while we discuss your case. But, until tonight, I seriously warn you to keep a low profile. No further deviation will be tolerated.”

Gazing once more to the ground, her ears drooping, Apple Bloom shuffled away.

⁂

Apple Bloom was back in the clubhouse where Scootaloo was waiting for her.

“’Twas one of the worst moments of my life. There were all looking at me as if I was a criminal,” confessed Apple Bloom, downbeat. “And I don’t even know what they will decide.”

“Much a do for a few cakes…” commented Scootaloo.

“You were lucky to esc…” began Apple Bloom, but she broke off. Scootaloo wasn’t lucky at all. She would probably have traded every upbraid in the world for a true family. “…never mind,” she concluded. “What have you been doing here all along? Where is Sweetie Belle?”

“Not returned yet,” answered Scootaloo. “I suppose Rarity will have pinned her at home. I’ve been wondering who could have given us away. Any idea?”

“I tried to make my sister spill the beans,” said Apple Bloom, “but she just answered curtly: ‘You don’t expect me to reveal that, Apple Bloom, do you?’”

“It cannot be an adult pony,” Scootaloo remarked. “They were more or less all gathered over there to listen to the speech. And we would surely have spotted him or her. Pegasi are grounded, so nopony could have watched us from the sky. Could it be…”

“Hmmm…” groaned Apple Bloom. “Do you think the same as me? Who could have felt the same as us and decided to wander away from that tedious speech except one of those two pests?”

“And moreover who else could have snitched?” Scootaloo carried on. “Besides, Filthy Rich is not the kind of father to care that much. He’d rather send Diamond Tiara away on a rampage rather than keeping a tight watch on her.”

“Admitting it is one of them, how can we know which one did it?” grumbled Apple Bloom. “They’re both scourges anyway.”

“Well, it’s simple,” explained Scootaloo. “Catch one of them, and make her speak.”

“They’d never snitch on each other! They stick just like twins! We would need magic to force them to speak,” observed Apple Bloom.

There was a hush as both fillies mused. Then all of sudden Scootaloo smirked and exclaimed: “We don’t need to rely on magic! There is still a resource we don’t have exploited…”

“Oh, come on!” squealed Apple Bloom. “Tell me.”

“I’m sure Zecora has a suitable potion,” Scootaloo said.

“Scootaloo!” protested Apple Bloom, “You can’t have forgotten what happened the last time we pinched a potion from Zecora’s pharmacy. At least I don’t. And besides Zecora’s hut has been almost destroyed, she had to take shelter in Fluttershy’s cottage.”

“Precisely,” replied Scootaloo. “We can—I mean I can sneak there. I’ll try to find what we need. Meanwhile, you just stay here, and wait. This way, if ever somebody shows up, you can always pretend you’re just nice, and squander some time playing. Okay? Let’s do this. See you tomorrow morning at school.” And without even waiting for an answer, she was gone.

⁂

The hut of Zecora was indeed run-down: the door was standing aslant on a single hinge, and most of the roof had caved in. But the rest of the Everfree forest was not in a better shape. Paradoxically, it had never been safer to travel in this area: many trees had been uprooted or destroyed, nothing could hide under the canopy anymore. The sun was bathing the scenery, and Scootaloo inferred than many monsters had probably fled the violent sunshine and receded in some darker part of the forest—if such a darker part remained.

She carefully pivoted the door on the single hinge and went through the threshold. The inside had been severely damaged. Beams had cracked and fallen, damaging the rare tribal artefacts and precious masks Zecora had brought from her native land. Shingles were strewn everywhere. The major quakes due to the clash had caused the various shelves to crash down, shuttering many vials; the ground was somewhat muddy, scattered chips of glass shimmered like fallen stars and a strange composite odor permeated the whole place. In a remote corner, one shelf, decorated with what seemed variegated boxes and vases, still stood miraculously up. Gingerly, Scootaloo picked up her way through the perilous mire to the unscathed shelf and began to scrutinize the various containers that were stored here. Strange names were written on the boxes: Vanilla abundiflora, Digitalis purpurea, Silybum marianum… when suddenly her sight was caught by a strange but appealing name…

⁂

The next day was ‘almost’ normal. Everypony had tried to resume their normal activity despite the veil of grayness that stained all the coats and the general lack of energy. The fillies were going to school. Seeing Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon ahead of her, Scootaloo galloped until she was abreast with them.

Diamond Tiara turned her head. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Our friend Scootalooser. How is the never-going-to-have-their-cutie-mark club?”

“I just noticed you don’t have cutie marks anymore, too,” retorted Scootaloo.

“But that’s only transitory,” said Silver Spoon. “We’re soon going to recover them, as well as all other ponies. Except… the blank flanks, of course.” She smirked.

“By the way,” answered Scootaloo. “I’d be interested in knowing which of you is a sleazy telltale.”

“I don’t see what you’re talking about, dear,” declared Diamond Tiara. “We are no snitches.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure you are. And I warn you that she who gave us away is going to regret it. Bitterly!” said Scootaloo, returning Diamond’s smirk.

Diamond Tiara winked at Silver Spoon. “Ooooh. I see now. You mean what you did at Sugar Cube Corner? That was rude. The Cakes are so adorable. How could you? We are not sleazy; you are.”

“Just swear you didn’t pinch anything in your all life at Sugar Cube Corner!” taunted Scootaloo.

“Oh, we never swore. It is just that… we are not big oafs like you. When we do pinch something, we manage not to be seen… But you, you are just… clumsy morons!” concluded Diamond Tiara. She and Silver Spoon giggled, and they sped up, leaving Scootaloo behind.

⁂

At the mid-morning recess, the three crusaders huddled together.

“What happened to you Sweetie Belle?” inquired Apple Bloom. “You also were told off?”

“Yes,” confirmed Sweetie Belle. “I had never seen my sister so infuriated. Even worse, I think, than she would have been had we looted her own boutique. Even the cat was bristling because of her cries. I was confined in my room for the rest of the afternoon. And now, we both have to spend the next weekend helping the Cakes out at the bakery.”

“I’ll join you,” said Scootaloo. “We are a trio, ain’t we? We share both great and dull moments.” She grinned.

“So,” asked Apple Bloom, “did they tell you?”

“Of course not,” answered Scootaloo. “But that does not matter. They are both guilty if they cover for each other. I am not going to waste time sleuthing. Besides our retaliation is at hand.”

“Explain!” squealed Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo drew a small box from her saddlebag and showed it to the other two.

“What is it?” asked Apple Bloom perplexed. “Nux vomica?”

“That’s self-explanatory,” answered Scootaloo. “Nux means ‘nut’ and vomica ‘that causes to vomit’.”

“How can you be sure? We don’t speak Zebrican, not even a word!” wondered Sweetie Belle.

“Silly filly,” grumbled Scootaloo. “That’s not Zebrican but Equilatin, the old language used to design plants amongst the masters of lore. Look here.” She grabbed her saddlebag again and seized what appeared to be an old book, partly shredded and stained with mud; on the leathered cover, the title read ‘Phytotherapy essentials’. Opening it, she skimmed quickly through marred pages until she found what she wanted. “It’s written here: ‘Nux vomica’ or ‘emetic nut’—”

“Emetic? What’s that?” inquired Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo facehoofed. “It means ‘that causes to vomit’, you benighted foal!” she answered grumpily. “Can I continue? Okay. Then it is written Blablabla… Ah, there: ‘The emetic nut extract is very bitter, because it contains a powerful component…’” She broke off.

“Why do you stop?” squeaked Sweetie Belle.

“The sentence continues on the next page, but it has been sodden and it is not readable. I can just make out the beginning ‘known’, then probably ‘as’ then I can’t read it anymore. Maybe an b and a r, but I can’t be sure. The rest is just a big blue splotch, and where I can read again, it obviously mentions something else: ‘something-nine is one of the world’s most poisonous substance and must be administered in minute doses to be considered safe.”

“Are you so sure it is not relevant to whatever this nut contains?” asked Sweetie Belle somewhat uncomfortably.

“Just quit carping and ask stupid questions, would you?” snapped Scootaloo. “Of course it has nothing to do with that nut! This is emetic, not poisonous, as the name specifies.”

“Maybe Sweetie Belle is right,” ventured Apple Bloom. “Maybe we should ask?”

“And whom, please? Zecora? ‘Zecora, sorry to disturb you, I found this in your hut, could you tell me what it is used for?’” Scootaloo sighed.

“Twilight?” put Sweetie Belle forward.

“Sometimes I wish you were a little more witty. Shall I remember you that the library has been destroyed? Twilight without books is like a phonograph without records. Mute. Besides she has much urgent matters to grapple with presently.”

“Maybe we should go to someplace’s else library and try to look up ourselves?” proposed Sweetie Belle.

“ENOUGH!” shouted Scootaloo. “What are you? Wimps?”

“No, but—” protested the other two in unison. “Then it’s settled,” Scootaloo cut in. “Remember that project on ‘taste’ Cheerilee wants us to work on for next week?” asked Scootaloo.

“Indeed,” confirmed Sweetie Belle. “And so what?”

“Tastes are four: salted, sweet, acid and… bitter,” Scootaloo answered with a grin.

Silently, the three fillies exchanged impish looks before brohoofing.

⁂

“Everybody listen!” cheered Cheerilee. “Now it’s the time for the game I told you about yesterday. Somepony will be blindfolded and has to guess what elementary tastes are present in the variety of samples you’ve prepared!”

“I want to try first!” cried Silver Spoon, frantically waggling her hoof in the air. The three crusaders winked at each other.

“Who else wants to volunteer?” asked Cheerilee. She looked around but no other leg went up. “Okay,” she carried on, “Silver Spoon, come here, I’m going to blindfold you.”

While Cheerilee was busy hitching the folded napkin around the head of Silver Spoon, Sweetie Belle tiptoed next to Scootaloo. “What did you do,” she whispered to her ear.

“Mingled Zecora’s powder with a lot of honey and syrup. This way the bitterness will be mitigated and she will swallow it instead of spitting it out,” answered Scootaloo in a low voice.

“Did you try it?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t want to be sick and deprived of the spectacle we’re going to behold!” Scootaloo sniggered.

“Then how can you know she will find it sweet enough?” remarked Sweetie Belle.

“Trust me!—”

“Hallo!” exclaimed Cheerilee. “Are you ready to challenge Silver Spoon with your mysterious mixtures?”

“Yes miss Cheerilee!” responded all the class in chorus.

“Very well!” said Cheerilee. “First Snips and Snails!”

The two unicorns brought a small glass, that Silver Spoon took. She then sipped from it and spat it out also immediately with a wince. “Yuuck,” she said, “that’s salted. Too much. What is it? Brine?”

“Bravo!” congratulated Snips and Snails. They stomped their hooves on the ground to applause.

“That was easy,” laughed Cheerilee. “Next ones! Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom!”

Cautiously, Scootaloo advanced to the table where Silver Spoon was seated. She put a small earthenware pot over it, and gave Silver Spoon a scoop. The grey filly dunked it in the somewhat oozy, creamy yellow mixture and reached the scoop into her mouth. “Mmmm…” she said, as if puzzled. “Strange. It’s very sweet, but at the same time it has a distinctive bitter aftertaste.” She took another gob and chewed it, talking her time as if to fully appreciate all the organoleptic qualities. “Not bad, when you get used to it. What is it?”

“Hum,” hesitated Scootaloo embarrassed. “It is kind of honey made from flowers that grow in Zebrica. Zecora gave it to me.”

“Oh really?! Can I taste it too?” asked Cheerilee enthused. She didn’t wait for an answer and took a small drop with the spoon that she licked prudently. Her face grimaced slightly, but then she grinned again: “It’s really… uncanny. Did Zecora told you what plant this honey was made from?” she inquired. “Because it tastes as if it was some kind of regular honey mixed up with some really bitter substance.”

Scootaloo’s face crumpled. “Errr… No, she did not but… I’ll ask her and tell you tomorrow,” she answered, with a shaky voice. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were watching her with scary eyes.

“Okay girl!” Cheerilee chirped. “Whose next now?…”

⁂

The game was now over since about one hour, and Cheerilee was explaining everything about the tongue and its taste buds when a faint voice interrupted her.

“Miss Cheerilee, I feel sick…” complained Silver Spoon. “Real sick.” She hunched up on her chair, putting her hooves over her stomach. Scootaloo smiled discreetly to Apple Bloom.

“What is the matter, darling?” answered Cheerilee concerned. “I, too, feel strange.” She gazed around. “As if… the world was unusually clear. I think you’d better go outside and breathe some fresh air for a while. I’m not sure tasting all these different flavors in a row was such a good idea, after all.”

Silver Spoon lugged her chair backwards and stood up. But she had barely made a step forward that she suddenly slumped, her entire body seized by a fit of convulsion: her belly contracted violently, her legs started wriggling and twisting as if they were panicked fish caught on land, her eyes widened and her pupils suddenly dilated. Froth began to drool from her open mouth.

“Sweet Celestia!” yelled Cheerilee. “Quick! Somebody run for a doctor. Hurry!”

“On it!” replied Scootaloo and she cleared out immediately, while her teacher dashed through the room to the spot where Silver Spoon was helplessly twitching. “She must be under some kind of epileptic fit. Striking, but not really dangerous.” She turned to face the nearest filly, Diamond Tiara, who, like all the others, was so dumbfounded that she stood gaping stupidly. “Diamond!” Cheerilee ordered, “Come here, help me avoid her swallowing her tongue while I try to calm her down!”

Diamond Tiara hopped from her chair and grappled Silver Spoon’s mouth, trying to hold it wide, while Cheerilee was desperately trying to restrain the filly’s wild motions.

Minutes passed, and Cheerilee noticed with horror that the body of Silver Spoon was not subsiding. On the contrary, it was increasingly stiff, as if a powerful cramp was progressively seizing all the muscles; her spasms were now generalized and her respiration was becoming irregular, faint, wheezing…

⁂

Scootaloo and the doctor stove in the classroom, flinging the door opened. But they immediately froze. The place was eerily silent. In front of them was Cheerilee, her face expressionless, her eyes unfocused and lost. Wordlessly, she trotted past and egressed through the open door. Her hooves resounded in the quiet room like a portent. Almost reflexively, Scootaloo rushed two steps further and rounded the first pupil’s desk.

A few feet ahead of her in the aisle, next to a shocked Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon lay decumbent on the ground. No more was she squirming. In fact, her face was peaceful, her eyes closed, her body relaxed and unmoving.

At last.

Act I

“So what are we going to do now?” asked Scootaloo desperately.

The three Cutie Mark Crusaders™ had summoned an emergency meeting in the club house. Tirek had been defeated the day before and Equestria was now trying to grapple with the fallout. Although the  Elements had cast the rogue back into Tartarus, their power had been insufficient to undo all the evil that had been wrought. Hillocks had been shattered, part of the Everfree forest simply razed by the tough fight between Twilight Sparkle and Tirek. Twilight’s library was gone, nothing subsisted but charred splinters of wood and scattered pieces of paper bathing in filthy mud. But more important, the magic resources the baleful creature had fed upon could not be restored; it seemed that the magic of the Elements, on the one side, and all the magic of the ponies, on the other side, had been like the two poles of a magnet, or matter and anti-matter: they had canceled out each other perfectly, as if the precious gems had sucked in all the power of Tirek, before expending the last drops of energy to send him back in Tartarus. Now they had shriveled: no more were they the delicately cut, bright and colored jewels worn by the six mares, but had reverted into shapeless, gray and inert pebbles.

No unicorn—and none of the alicorn too—had witnessed their magic come back. The sky was, since then, equally split between day and night, the Sun and the Moon both suspended midway in their respective course.

And all the ponies had been deprived of their cutie mark.

“I think we better give up the hope of gaining our cutie mark anytime soon,” sighed Sweetie Belle. “Until somepony figure out a way out of this quandary, that is.”

“But who will?” wondered Apple Bloom. “Even Princess Celestia has not been able to regain a spark of power. Twilight said she had no idea how long it would take to bring things back in line, if ever.”

“Uuuh!” wailed Sweetie Belle loudly. “I want my cutie mark back!”

“You never had one in the first place,” observed Scootaloo wryly.

Sweetie Belle’s squeals suddenly broke off. “You’re right,” she acknowledged. “Uhhh… I want my future cutie mark back!” Scootaloo face-hoofed.

“Let’s look on the bright side,” proposed Apple Bloom. “Now nopony can make fun of us because we’re blank flanks anymore. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are out of luck for a while…”

“That won’t save our club!” protested Scootaloo. “Without cutie marks, the Cutie Mark Crusaders club has no reason to exist. Crusaders without a crusade, that’s rather silly. I’m sure we will get hectored once more if we do nothing!”

“Girls,” said Apple Bloom, “I’m sorry to interrupt this amazing brainstorming, but I’ve got to go. Applejack and Big Mac are waiting for me to help store all the apples that yesterday’s tussle made fall. Zillions of them. I’m not sure the afternoon will be enough.”

“Maybe we might help?” exclaimed Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle at the same time.

“Sure! The more the merrier! Let’s go girls!”

⁂

It was evening now. Sweating and puffing, the three fillies were seating in the cellar, amidst rows of carefully stowed crates. They had toiled during endless hours under the preternatural sky, picking up apples, stowing them in huge baskets that they had carried back and forth to the farm where Granny Smith was waiting, ready to store them in the various boxes and cubicles that had been prepared. And, despite their diligence, there were still a lot left to do for the next days.

“I’m pooped,” sighed Sweetie Belle, almost staggering. “I think I won’t be able to see an apple for the next week or so!”

“Me neither!” confirmed Scootaloo. “Not even in a cobbler!”

“We couldn’t let all these apples rot on the ground,” explained Apple Bloom. “We already barely eke our living out every month, I don’t even want to know what would happen if all this raw material was just wasted.” She reached for the nearest crate, grasped a ripe fruit and bit it squarely. She glanced around, as if to proudly contemplate once more the result of all their labour, until she felt a blow on her rump, followed by the faint, but unmistakable sound of an apple crushing on the ground.

“Eh?!” she exclaimed. “Who’s done that?” She wheeled, but her two chums were looking elsewhere, and softly whistling. “Hummmm… Let me decide…” she said, squinting as a nemesis. She hesitated a short while and then chose to throw her apple to Scootaloo. The projectile flew and hit the young pegasus right on the muzzle.

“Ouch!” squeaked Scootaloo. “Eh! That’s not fair! It wasn’t me, featherbrain!” she protested. Sweetie Belle plopped on the floor, all her body shaken by spasms of laughter. Apple Bloom flushed.

“Oops! Sorry! But since you were obviously in cahoots, I had to make a random–” She did not finish, because an other apple alighted on her head.

“Retaliation! An eye for an eye and an apple for an apple!” yelled Scootaloo with a grin.

Apple Bloom started to feel really snappish. “That’s no fun!” she grumbled. She gazed at Sweetie Belle, still squirming in her fit of chortle. Sizing an other fruit, she flung it at the unicorn and hit her right in the stomach. The white filly stopped laughing at once, and winced in pain, coughing. “Now enjoy your comeuppance!” sneered Apple Bloom.

“Why did you hit her so bad?” asked Scootaloo disgruntled. “That was mean.” She took another apple and threw it at Apple Bloom, who dodged it. “Missed, you big clumsy oaf!” she gloated. But at the very same moment, she was caught in a sudden rain of Pink ladies: Sweetie Belle had seized a whole crate and was firing apples like a machine gun. Grumbling, Apple Bloom stoop, scooped up two projectiles that she pelted back at Sweetie Belle. One missed, and the other impacted right on the horn, before splitting asunder. Sweetie Belle stroke back using more vegetable shells, and for a short while the cellar aerial space was filled with red round-shaped missiles that flew here and there, crashing randomly on the floor, the ceiling or the various boxes, until one fateful projectile smashed into a big tottering stack of crates that swayed for a few seconds before collapsing noisily, scattering all its contents on the floor.

“Oh no!” squeaked Apple Bloom, contemplating the disaster. “What are we going to do now? It will take hours to fix that!”

“Let’s clear out!” said Scootaloo. “Quick, before your sister comes and see us there!”

“But what about the mess?”

“You can just pretend it’s not your fault, that the heap collapsed by itself,” answered Scootaloo. “After all, it was not build that sturdy. Things like that happen from time to time! Come on!”

The three fillies left the room precipitately.

⁂

Apple Bloom was comfortably tucked in her bed, her big sister at her side. The shutters had been tightly closed, to blot out the curious steady light radiated by the sky.

“Apple Bloom,” said Applejack, after finishing reading a story, “I want to thank you for helping us this afternoon with all the chores.”

“Aw shucks!” exclaimed Apple Bloom. “It was obvious you needed a hoof. And it was a snap with the help of the others.”

“It’s just a pity that a stack fell down…”

Apple Bloom stifled a twitch. “What?” she chirped, faking surprise.

“When I visited the cellar two hours ago I found that a pile of crates had collapsed. Probably we failed to check that it was correctly balanced. Big Mac and I had to gather all the apples strewn on the floor and put them in a rack.”

“That’s such a bad luck,” said Apple Bloom with a tinge of regret in her voice.

“That wasn’t a big deal, except that after a day like this, we’d have preferred to unwind, rather than spend one extra hour to fix this mess.”

“I understand. I am sorry I wasn’t here to give you a hoof.”

“No worry, little sister, you already did your share. Time to snuff the candle now. Sleep well!” Applejack pecked her sister, puffed on the taper and padded to the door.

“Good night, so to speak! I wonder if tomorrow your cutie marks will be back…” responded Apple Bloom.

Applejack turned around, grinning. “Who knows?” she said. Then she waved with her hoof and closed the door. Treading lightly along the corridor, she thought she hadn’t brought up the fact that she and her brother had found numerous splotches on the walls, ceiling included; that was hardly explainable by gravity alone… let alone the apples crushed to the core. With honesty riveted to her bones, the fact that her sister had obviously lied—or at least that she had deliberately omitted to mention something—was profoundly flustering. I’ll have to watch her more closely, she decided. Especially if she persists; I don’t want to condone this kind of behavior. She reached the door of her bedroom, opened it, and her mind switched to other, more crucial problems, especially how her trees would react to this unusual stellar configuration.

⁂

But the next “morning” saw no noticeable change. The Sun and the Moon had not moved by a jot, and no cutie mark had popped up during the night. Apple Bloom stood up, throwing carelessly the bedclothes back, and shuffled somewhat lazily to the kitchen. “Mornin’!” she said, yawning, as she entered the room where Applejack was already busy kneading some dough.

“Mornin’ kid!” answered Applejack merrily. “You’ve got to hurry. Mayor mare is supposed to give a speech at Ponyville’s town hall in about one hour. Big Mac and I intend to go, so you will have to accompany us, too.”

“Uh, a speech? What for?” asked Apple Bloom still drowsy.

“I suppose she wants to inform the people about the latest developments of this… hum… strange situation? Mayhap we can get some useful information?”

“Sounds like a drag,” grumbled Apple Bloom.

“I’m sure you will meet Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle there. I’ll give you some bits to buy candies or cakes at Sugar Cube Corner when it’ll be over. It shouldn’t last that long.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I suppose I’ve little choice anyway…” Apple Bloom trailed away, as she poured herself a cup of milk.

“None, indeed!” giggled Applejack, and the two resumed their respective occupations without exchanging any further word.

⁂

The speech had been going on for a while now. Everypony in town had gathered on the grand square surrounding the town hall building. Mayor mare, atop a rostrum, was, as usual, alternately melodramatic and garrulous. Nopony seem to notice, or, at least, all were polite enough to withstand the torture in total silence and perfect stillness.

Apple Bloom sighed. She had more or less listened during the first five minutes, then quickly had let her attention wander away, tired of the droning. “How long are we going to have to be put through this?” she asked to Scootaloo, with eyes full of despair.

“I don’t know,” replied Scootaloo, grumpy. “But I am about to keel over for sure if this carries on.”

“So am I!” confirmed Sweetie Belle. “Why do we have to listen to this claptrap until the end?”

“Because my sister promised me some bits to have a cake at Sugar Cube Corner right afterwards.”

“Guess what?” squeaked Sweetie Belle. “Mine too!”

There was a hush, then Scootaloo whispered: “Eh! We don’t have to wait until the end of this pain. We can go to Sugar Cube Corner right now and get something to eat and drink. I’m sure the door has been left opened. And when we’re finished, we rush back here and pretend we did not move. Just let a note for the Cakes saying you’re going to stop by later to pay them, with the bits your sister’s gonna give you!”

“Great idea!” approved Apple Bloom. “You come Sweetie?”

“Of course! You don’t want me to die here, do you?”

⁂

As Scootaloo had predicted, the door of Sugar Cube corner was indeed opened. The three fillies entered and found the place deserted, although a sweet scent of hot butter was clearly betraying the presence of freshly baked pastries. They closed the door behind them and set out to explore the room. Soon they had located sundry delicacies, among which cobblers, pies and fritters. Each picked up one of those, and filled a glass with an apparently freshly brewed apple juice. Using a platter, they carried their victuals to the nearest table, seated, grasped their respective quarry and began chomping. The silence, in a room usually crowded from dusk to dawn, was almost eerie, but all were way too eager to replenish their stomachs after the long and dreary experience of the last minutes that they did not care.

So it took not long until all that remained in the platter was nothing but sparse crumbs. They lolled on their chairs with glee. Apple Bloom belched.

“Eh!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “That’s gross!”

“Oops. Sorry!” apologized Apple Bloom. “But you’re so prim sometimes.” Her eyes roved around momentarily. “So what do we do now?”

There was no answer. In the distance, the voice of the town’s head pony was seeping as a faint, dampened, monotonous whimper. Apple Bloom was thinking about her siblings, obliged to withstand this endless rambling without being allowed to escape it.

“I don’t know about you,” said Scootaloo, breaking the silence, “but I am still hungry.”

“I certainly do still feel a mite peckish,” approved Sweetie Belle.

“There’s nobody around. Let’s have another serving of those toothsome dainties!” proposed Scootaloo.

“Ey!” protested Apple Bloom. “I won’t have enough bits to pay an extra round!”

“Who cares?” shrugged Scootaloo. “Do you think the Cakes will tally their pastries upon their return?”

“I guess not… But–”

“So consider you won another one gratis. It’s settled then!” And Scootaloo scuttled off to the counter to grasp more yummies.

⁂

“Uh!” said Scootaloo hiccuping. “I guess we’ve gone a tiny bit overboard.” She smirked and looked at the window behind which the delicacies had been exposed. Had been, for all that was left was a lonely and miserable cupcake; in a way, the vacuity that surrounded it was like a foil, and Scootaloo found it difficult to avert her eyes from it. “Practically, there is nothing left!” she added wryly.

With the reality dawning on them, the two other fillies were now panicking. “What are we going to do? We ate almost twenty pieces, never will my sister accept to pay for all this!” squealed Apple Bloom.

“Neither mine!” shrilled Sweetie Belle in turn.

All of a sudden, a loud noise rose in the background. Applauses. Claps. Some hoots.

“Mayday!” yelped Apple Bloom. “The speech is over, they will be back in a few seconds!”

“Let’s scram!” ordered Scootaloo. “Unless you want to be upbraided right away?”

“No way!” said Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle in unison. And the three were off like a streak, leaving the front door slightly ajar.

They hurtled through the deserted streets and were back in the grand square just in time. Obviously the end of the speech had been followed by a short Q&A session; it was over now and the throng was loosely breaking up amid the humming of soft conversations. Applejack, Rarity and the others bearers—except Twilight that was gone to Canterlot to discuss with the royalties—made their way out of the crowd.

“I’m sorry for this,” said Applejack. “I really did not reckon it would take so long.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” replied Apple Bloom. “We managed to have some fun anyway.” She looked to her chums somewhat sheepishly.

“What did you do?” asked Rarity suspiciously. “Zip-lining again? Something still more silly? There is no use fighting for your cutie marks anymore, until further notice, you know…”

“Errr…” began Sweetie Belle with a grin. “Well—”

“We just had some fun in the park with the swings and the seesaw!” cut in Scootaloo.

“Hmmm…” said Rarity. “You three playing with swings and seesaws during a full hour? That would be a first!”

“Oh come on Rarity! We are not that puckish!” protested Sweetie Belle.

“You can be real imps sometimes,” Rarity replied. “Remember when you cut the thread of—”

“Okay, okay, OKAY!” interrupted Sweetie Belle. “I know, that was unseemly,” she concluded in a lower tone.

“Not only unseemly, but also unsavory,” remarked Rarity.

“Hey Rarity, let bygones be bygones!” said Applejack. She delved into her saddlebag and drew out some coins. “Here are the bits I promised you. Go get something to eat!”

“Well… In fact…” bumbled Apple Bloom, embarrassed, “I feel more worn out than hungry. I’d rather go back home and have a nap. That nosh can wait, no?” She yawned and slouched against Sweetie Belle.

“Uh, that’s right. I too feel fatigued!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “That extended play in the park worn me out!”

Applejack, Rarity and the other mares exchanged puzzled looks.

“Aw come on!” braid Rainbow Dash in her usual manner. “It’s not even eleven a.m. How could you possibly be pooped?”

“I couldn’t really sleep,” explained Apple Bloom. “There was too much light. And then we had a hard day yesterday slogging away to pick up all these fruits.”

“Me too, same thing,” approved Sweetie Belle.

Rainbow Dash pouted. “Scootaloo! Do you want to come with me? My treat!” she proposed with a wink.

“Err… no thanks!” Scootaloo answered with an abashed grin. “Maybe later? I just have… … An urgent errand I forgot, that’s it! I really have to beat it! Goodbye everypony!” She turned around, straddled her scooter, flapped her stunted wings and rushed off.

Rainbow Dash was stuck jaw-dropped. “What’s the matter with her? Par for the course, she is always after me…” she muttered, as if for herself.

“She must have been unsettled by the aftermath of Tirek’s devastation,” Fluttershy put forward. “We all are, and my animals have become very restive and unpredictable. Give her some time to unwind.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right!” replied Rainbow Dash with a shrug. “Too bad for her, anyhow.” She looked up. “Time to tend that crazy sky a bit. So long girls!” And she flew away.

“Well,” said Applejack. “Apple Bloom, you coming?”

“Yep!” replied Apple Bloom. She tottered. “I feel so weak. Could you carry me?”

Applejack rolled her eyes, then nodded. She kneeled and her little sister hauled herself on her back. Standing up, both waved goodbye and Applejack slowly cantered away, accompanied by Big Macintosh who had been placidly waiting apart.

“Please big sister, can you carry me too?” entreated Sweetie Belle with supplicant eyes.

“I am sorry my dear,” protested Rarity crisply, “but I am neither a mule nor a draypony. You’ll have to hoof it to the boutique, Sleepy Belle! Come on! Rally yourself.”

“Pffff…” answered Sweetie Belle with a crumpled face. Reluctantly, she turned around and scuffed off, followed by her sister. The other mares, finding no reason to stay here any longer, greeted each other and drifted away.

⁂

But at some distance, a young, rose-coated, blue-eyed filly was softly sniggering in her hooves…

Epilogue

“134… 135… 136. It’s here,” whispered Apple Bloom, whirling to face Sweetie Belle who was following behind, holding a bouquet made up of daffodils and lilies. Both fillies halted, and Apple Bloom knocked softly at the door. She got no audible response, so she pushed gently on the door until it was slightly ajar, and peeked inside.

On the other side of the white room, behind the big bed, Rainbow Dash was sitting on a stool, lost in thought. Apple Bloom waved with her hoof through the chink; Dash seemed to come alive; she reached one hoof over her mouth, as to require silence, stood up and tiptoed out. She joined the two fillies in the corridor and cautiously closed the door behind her.

“How is she?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“No change. Deep coma,” answered Rainbow Dash somberly.

“Will she recover?” wondered Apple Bloom.

“Even the best specialists don’t have a clue,” Rainbow Dash explained. She lowered her head. “She might never wake up, or remain paralyzed forever, or what else…” She faltered.

“It was no accident, was it?” inquired Sweetie Belle. But Rainbow Dash did not answer and there was a long hush. A nurse ambled by, pushing an empty wheelchair.

“We didn’t know what to bring so we ended up with this bouquet,” said Sweetie Belle after a while. She hoofed the flowers to Rainbow Dash, whose face brightened with a hint of a smile.

“Thank you girls,” she said. “I’m sure she would be happy to see them. Now it’s time for me to return in the room. You can come back tomorrow after school, if you want.”

“We definitely will,” replied the fillies. “Goodbye, Rainbow.”

Rainbow Dash hugged each of them. They were trying to remain as dignified as they could, but as soon as they turned around and set out for the exit, big tears streamed freely from their eyes.

Rainbow Dash watched them recede, then re-entered into the room as discreetly as possible. She carefully slipped the flowers in the empty vase on the bedside table, poured a bit of water from the adjacent jug, then sat again on the stool with a sigh and looked at the bed.

Lying under the sheet, the young filly’s shape had not moved a muscle for days. Would she ever stir, walk, gambol again, it was beyond her abilities to guess. The skull had been badly fractured in the fall and the brain had been seriously damaged, the doctors had said, as if apologizing for their powerlessness. She rose her head and gazed thoughtfully at the bouquet. Next to the vase, enclosed in a little wooden frame, was the photograph of a smiling, cheering, lovely foal.

The portrait of Scootaloo.