The Snipe Hunt
Admiral Biscuit
“Ah've got my Nightmare Night costume all picked out already. How about you?”
Sweetie shrugged. “I dunno. I think I'll be a vampire this year.”
“You were a vampire last year. You can't be the same thing two years in a row!”
“Why not?”
“It's—it's like a rule, or something? Right Scootaloo?”
“Huh?”
Apple Bloom pounded the front of the wagon. “Sweetie Belle says she's gonna be a vampire again for Nightmare Night.”
“Vampires are cool,” Scootaloo decreed.
“Ah know, but she was one last year.”
“See?” Sweetie stuck her tongue out at Apple Bloom. “I can too be a vampire again if I want to be.”
“Well, Ah think it's stupid to be the same thing twice in a row.”
“Fine. I won't be a vampire. I'll be a, a noble unicorn. With a cape and fangs.”
“That's exactly the same thing.”
“No it isn't.”
“Girls! Quiet.” Scootaloo stopped buzzing her wings and let the scooter and wagon coast. “We're never going to catch a snipe if we're being loud.”
Sweetie Belle ran her hoof along the edge of the wagon. “Why do we want to catch a snipe anyway?”
“So we can get our snipe-hunting cutie marks.”
“I know—but isn't that kind of mean? I don't think a snipe would make a good pet.”
Scootaloo facehoofed, nearly crashing the scooter. “We don't have to keep it, Sweetie—we can let it go after we catch it and get our cutie marks, duh.”
“It's just kind of mean, to catch it if we don't even want it.”
“Ah asked you if you had any ideas, and you didn't.”
“Did too! I said we could go to the spa. Rarity gave me three coupons for a spa treatment.”
Scootaloo reached her hoof down and skidded to a stop. “Getting cutie marks in being . . . spaed would be stupid.”
“Fine,” Sweetie huffed. “I'll just go by myself. Three times.”
“All right, that's settled.” Apple Bloom grabbed three burlap sacks out of the wagon. “Each of us needs to have a sack, and then we'll just kind of walk through the woods, looking for a snipe.”
Their goal firmly in mind, the three fillies finally stopped arguing as they eagerly walked through the woods, their sacks held at the ready. Apple Bloom led, Scootaloo took her place in the middle, Sweetie brought up the rear.
They had—in their minds—completely explored the small copse of woods with no sign of a snipe, when they came upon a stand of brambles that was taller than their heads.
“There might be snipes in there,” Scootaloo said enthusiastically.
“Yeah! Ah bet a lot of creatures would want to hide in there.”
“I'm sure there's all sorts of brambles in there,” Sweetie said unenthusiastically. “Maybe I'll wait out here, in case you flush one out.”
“No way.” Scootaloo crouched down and wriggled under a branch. “We've all got to go together. We can't corner it with just two.”
“Fine.” Sweetie rolled her eyes. “There'd better be dozens of snipes in there.”
******
Predictably, there were none. Three fillies crawled out the other side of the bramble patch with nothing to show for their effort but scratches and dirt in their coats.
“It's getting late,” Apple Bloom observed. “We ought to head back to the wagon before too long.”
“Yeah. Rarity worries if I'm out too late.”
“Sure.” Scootaloo was looking across the pumpkin field in front of them, not really paying attention to the other two crusaders. “What is that?”
They turned their heads to see where Scootaloo's hoof was pointing. About a hundred yards away from them, a orange and white contraption sat next to a pile of pumpkins, its barrel pointed into the sky.
“Ah don't know.” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo tore off towards it at a gallop; Sweetie noticed they were gone a moment later and galloped after them.
They circled it, taking it in from every angle, before Sweetie Belle spoke. “I think it's a pumpkin cannon. I heard Rarity talking about it with Fluttershy yesterday. Fluttershy said that somepony was shooting it off and scaring all the animals.” She lowered her ears. “I bet that's why we couldn't find any snipes.”
“Yeah, yeah. Forget the snipes.” Scootaloo knocked a hoof against the cannon's smooth side. “We could get our cutie marks as cannoneers. That would be totally awesome.”
“Rarity says I'm not allowed to use anything explosive or flammable,” Sweetie Belle griped. “Especially in town.”
“It's powered by air,” Apple Bloom said.
“Oh.” Sweetie looked at it. “Well, I guess it would be okay then.”
Scootaloo nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Come on, help me load this thing.” She grabbed a pumpkin off the pile and held it between her forehooves, stood on her hind legs and jumped, coming up a few feet short from the end of the barrel.
“Hold on a second.” Apple Bloom climbed onto the barrel, letting her weight pull it down to where Scootaloo could load it.
Once the projectile was in the barrel, Sweetie Belle poked it down with a stick, like pirate ponies loaded their cannons. She wasn't sure why that was important, but it was. When she reached the end of stick-length, she nodded at Apple Bloom, who slid back down the barrel and let the muzzle of the gun rise back up into the air.
Scootaloo put her hoof on the firing lever. “I get to shoot it first, 'cause I found it.” Before either of her companions could protest, she yanked it down, wincing as the cannon let out a deafening whoosh.
All three turned and watched as the pumpkin arced over the patch, splattering to the ground several hundred feet away.
“My turn next.” Apple Bloom climbed back up on the barrel. “Stand back; this is going to be awesome.”
******
Ten minutes later, the pile of ammunition was completely depleted. The three crusaders looked across the wasteland of destroyed pumpkins, and then back at their still blank flanks.
“I really thought that would do it,” Scootaloo said.
Apple Bloom looked at the cannon thoughtfully. “Maybe we need to build our own pumpkin cannon.”
“Yeah!” Sweetie's enthusiasm had risen with each pumpkin fired. “Let's have a sleepover at Apple Bloom's house and build a pumpkin cannon!”
“We don't have any pumpkins to shoot. Big Mac didn't plant any this year. Said we always had too many, and all we ever did with 'em was make Jack-O-Lanterns.” She looked regretfully at the cannon. “Ah bet we could make the barrel smaller, though, and make an apple cannon.”
“Yeah! Cutie mark crusaders apple cannon engineers! Yay!”
The three fillies shared a final look at the pumpkin cannon before heading back towards the bramble patch. As they started to push their way in, Sweetie Belle paused. “Does anypony remember where we left the wagon?”
Author's Note
A One-Shot-Ober Fic
