Sweet Apple Acres. True to its name, the farm proper stretches across several acres of rich, fertile land. Groves of apple trees spread far and wide over the rolling hills and sweeping valleys that lie between the small town of Ponyville and Whitetail Woods. Much of the land still remains unfenced years after its claim, thanks in no small part to a lack of property debates. As a result, much of land is free to roam.
But one place in particular is rather difficult to reach. Situated a couple miles beyond the farmhouse, a single hill with a single tree sits buried within the more rugged terrain, surrounded by dense woods and taller hills that isolate the spot from the rest of the world.
And it was on this hill that Apple Bloom currently stood, her back to an amber sunset, as the autumn leaves of the lone tree overhead drifted to the ground with a breeze.
The young farmer filly glanced around at her surroundings. The trees of the bordering hills rose above her plot of land, blocking out the rest of the world from sight. The browning stalks of their branches, barely holding with weak stems, begged for the Running of the Leaves to herald in the next season.
The terrain provided perfect seclusion. Just as Granny Smith had intended.
Even still, Apple Bloom pursed her lips as she walked around the old apple tree that sat atop the hill, barren of its fruit. It was true, the scene was melancholic for sure. At least, that’s the feeling she got from the atmosphere around her. The gentle breeze that blew through the boughs overhead and all around was the only sound to be heard beyond the rustle of grass beneath her hooves. Not a noise, not a voice, not a creature of one form or another disturbed the peace of this place.
And yet, as she rounded the other side of the large tree, taking in the sight of two worn stones jutting out of the ground near its roots, only one thought crossed her mind.
Why don’t I feel sad?
Stepping within a few hooves of the stones, she sat to her haunches. At this angle, the sunset now looming across from her cast a warm bloom around the outline of the stones. All along the hillside visible in her periphery, trails of dust floated lazily in the rays of light, growing dim as she sat thinking, wondering why every time she had made the trek out to this secluded spot once a year with her family, it was the same thing.
There was little for her to feel. As far as she was concerned, these were merely two stones that had been stuck in a random plot of earth, separated from the world for reasons she barely remembered. But they were reasons well justified, and ones she always sought to respect.
Apple Bloom sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the significance of this place. She could only imagine just how hard it was for Granny, her sister, her brother – for any of her family to come visit this spot. She figured it must have been similar to the way she felt anytime she wondered what would happen if Applejack or Big Mac were to disappear from her life. The mere thought could spur a chill in her spine and a lump in her throat any time of the day. But no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not recreate the same feeling here. Not for these landmarks.
Not for her parents.
Which is why she made this journey separate from her family – and with a particular friend.
Clearing her throat, Apple Bloom leaned to the side and peered around the tree. “It’s alright, y’know. You can come out.”
Silence passed for a moment. Then, a muffled clop of hooves sounded from behind the tree, followed by an orange pegasus with a purple mane strolling into sight. She paused when she spotted Apple Bloom, ears folding back. “You sure?”
“Mhmm,” Apple Bloom hummed. She patted the ground next to her.
With a tentative step, Scootaloo walked over beside the filly, taking a moment to examine the stones before sitting down. “So, this is it?”
“Yep.” Apple Bloom drew a breath. “This is where they’re buried.”
Scootaloo nodded silently, allowing a breeze to cross over them before she spoke again. “Why way out here?”
“Granny made the choice.” Furrowing her brow, Apple Bloom hoofed at the ground in front of her. “Said it’s s’posed to be the quietest place on the farm.”
“Yeah. I can believe that,” Scootaloo said, glancing over at her friend with an uncertain expression. “So, what’s it like?”
Apple Bloom looked over, tilting her head. “Hm?”
“Y’know. To be here.”
“Oh.” Apple Bloom’s gaze drifted over to the stones, soft and distant. “Well… it’s fine, I guess.”
A moment passed. “Just fine, huh?”
Apple Bloom closed her eyes and hung her head. “Yeah. Just… fine.”
She hated saying those words. But they were true. The last couple of times her and her family had come to visit the graves of her parents, Apple Bloom barely swayed at the sight of the headstones. The names etched into their surface, slightly weathered around the edges, were ones she knew by memory, but not so much by heart. They were names scarcely mentioned within the farmhouse, though she knew they clung to the back of her family’s mind each and every day.
Her family had such sentiments for these ponies. So many memories shared, so much love exchanged. They had known these two personally. To them, they truly were family. And of course they were family to Apple Bloom as well. They were her parents as much as Applejack’s and Big Mac’s. And yet…
“Can I ask you something?” Scootaloo said, breaking Apple Bloom’s train of thought.
“Yeah… yeah, of course,” she replied, shaking her head clear of the thoughts before looking over.
Scootaloo gulped. “It’s nice and all you wanted me to come out here with you.” She folded her ears back farther and rubbed a hoof across a foreleg. “But you didn’t really tell me why. I always figured this was something just between you and your family.”
Apple Bloom slumped a little in her spot. “Well, it is. Or, was, I guess.”
Admittedly, this was her first time bringing somepony other than family to this secret place. She thought long and hard before inviting Scootaloo to come with her, concerned that she would break some sort of family tradition by doing so. But nopony had ever mentioned not allowing others to visit. And since the events involving her and her friends’ cutie marks, she found herself curious to visit this place on her own time – and with someone she hoped could relate.
Sitting upright against the cool breeze, Apple Bloom faced the headstones. “So… I know you lost your parents a while back,” she began hesitantly, her eyes fixed on the grave as Scootaloo sat listening beside her. “And I know you don’t think about them all that much anymore. But…”
Scootaloo flicked her ears toward her, waiting patiently for her friend to continue.
After a few quiet breaths, Apple Bloom glanced over. “Do you think it’s weird that I never cry?”
Scootaloo tilted her head. “That you…? Like, never ever?”
“No,” Apple Bloom said, shaking her head. “That I don’t cry when I come here.”
“Oh.” Scootaloo looked over at the grave. “Well… I don’t know. I mean, no one I’ve ever known has died, so…” She shrugged.
Apple Bloom closed her eyes a moment and rubbed between her eyes. “I’m sorry, Scoots. I just…” She swallowed against a lump forming in her throat, to little avail. “I feel like such a horrible pony for not caring ‘bout my folks the way everyone else in my family does.”
“You mean, because you don’t cry?”
Apple Bloom nodded. “That, and… just…” She groaned. “All I know is ever since we got our cutie marks, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about them – about the way I feel about them.”
Scootaloo nodded absently, her gaze shifting to her friend.
With a sigh, Apple Bloom continued. “It just doesn’t seem right. Every time we come here, Applejack and Big Mac always get so teary-eyed. Granny does a lil’ better of course, but even she cries on some trips.” Her eyes drifted downward as she hoofed at the ground once more, playing with a tuft of grass. “I used to cry the first few times we came out here, back when I was real little. But I think I remembered things about my parents then that I don’t now. Things that… made me care more.”
The knot in her throat grew as the words left her tongue. It seemed so wrong to her that only now, ever since her and her friends’ cute-ceañera, she would give so much thought to the ponies that should have mattered most in her life. There was an element of simple curiosity to her thoughts of course, such as what they would have thought of her cutie-mark if they were still around. But the question seemed far more trivial – certainly less impassioned – than the feelings that had spurred this particular trip.
Applejack and Big Mac had expressed themselves in public the day she got her cutie-mark much as they would at times here, safely secluded from the eyes of anypony other than family. Their excitement for the youngest Apple’s accomplishment blended with the bitterness of not having their parents around to witness the momentous occasion – and for once, they had allowed themselves to cry in front of others. Although Apple Bloom was able to share their sentiments in part during the moment, she worried that it was only because of the moment itself. That with the emotions surrounding everything taking place that day, the only reason she could shed a tear was because of what was happening around her, not because she actually missed her parents.
She wanted to believe she did. She certainly had when she was younger. Or, at least she thought she did. But that was long ago – so long that she sometimes wondered how Applejack and Big Mac could still care so much, or how Granny, with all her age and wisdom, could still cry a time or two at the thought of two ponies long gone. But more than anything, she wondered something else.
Why don’t I feel the same way? Why do I have to be the bad pony?
The questions swirled in her mind. Apple Bloom dug her hooves deeper into the ground, clutching tight against the grass. The force of her grasp slowly tore the blades from their roots as her eyes settled on a point between the headstones and the trunk of the tree. A dull heat formed in the back of her head. Her pulse throbbed in her ears.
Then, something gentle graced her shoulder.
With a strained motion, she glanced over at an orange hoof, following the limb back to the worried eyes of her friend.
“Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo murmured, dropping her hoof to the ground. “What’s up?”
For a moment, Apple Bloom merely breathed, her eyes drifting once more back over to the graves of her parents. But after a while, she spoke.
“You want to know what I hate the most about this?”
Scootaloo blinked.
Trembling, Apple Bloom said, “I hate never having known my parents the way Applejack and Big Mac did. I hate not having memories with them like they do.” The rim of her eyes began to wet with tears. “I hate so much that I don’t love them the same way they do, and… I don’t know if I ever will.” With a choke, the filly hunched over and fell into a quiet weep, turning away from her friend.
For what felt like several minutes, Apple Bloom cried; a painful thing to do in front of Scootaloo, even though it was the very thing she wanted to do. Her sobs grew more intense as the weight of guilt pressed against her. Even these tears, she realized, were not for her loss. They were not for grieving the death of two ponies she could barely remember, but for being unable to grieve for them.
As her chest heaved with a sharp inhale, she heard Scootaloo shift behind her. She could only imagine how awkward this must have been for her. She wished she hadn’t dragged her out here for something like this, something she felt she should have been able to face on her own.
This was stupid. I’m stupid. I never should have—
“Well… it’s kind of like asking if I would cry if my parents died,” Scootaloo mumbled.
Apple Bloom froze. She sniffled a couple of times before daring a glance.
To her surprise, Scootaloo still sat beside her. And her expression – it wasn’t of embarrassment. If anything, she looked serious.
“I mean, I guess I’d be upset. Sort of, anyway.” Standing up from her spot, Scootaloo meandered toward the grave. “But I never really knew my parents. I was so young when foal services took me away that the memories… they’re like this one long, blurry dream.” She looked back over her shoulder at her friend. “Like it never really happened.”
Apple Bloom stifled a whimper before drawing a breath. “S-so you don’t think you’d cry if they died?”
“I don’t know,” Scootaloo said firmly, turning to face her. “I don’t even know if anypony would ever tell me if they did. But… no, I don’t think I would.”
Apple Bloom hiccuped. Her sobs wanted to gain force. “But doesn’t that make us awful ponies? I mean…” Gesturing between them with her hooves, she said, “These’re our parents! They’re supposed to be the ponies we love the most, right?”
Scootaloo tilted her head and furrowed her brow, darting her eyes between the filly's. “Who ever said that?”
Apple Bloom opened her mouth to respond, but found herself at a loss of words. “W-well… I mean, Applejack and Big Mac… they loved our parents a whole bunch, so I just… thought that’s how it was.” She chuckled bitterly. “And even though nopony at school says it, you can tell how happy they are whenever their parents come to things like plays ‘n stuff.”
“But that doesn’t mean they love them more than anypony else.”
“It…” Apple Bloom wiped the end of her snout with a hoof. “It doesn’t?”
Scootaloo shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. I still love my parents, even after everything that went down.” Averting her gaze, she said, “But, I mean… I love my friends as well. And I definitely can’t say I love my parents more than I love you guys.” She gulped and sat on her haunches. “I know that’s kinda sappy, but… that’s how I feel at least.”
Apple Bloom blinked, the words of her friend slowly filtering through to her mind.
“So,” Scootaloo continued, “sure. Your parents were probably way cooler than mine were. If they were anything like the rest of your family, they were probably really nice.” She paused a moment, looking back at the filly. “But kinda like you, I was too young to remember a bunch of stuff about my parents. There’s little things I can think of, like my dad taking me to the park for the first time, and this one time my mom gave me a bubble bath. But it’s just things like that. Stuff I can barely remember… so, I just don’t feel the same way about them as some ponies do about their parents.” She smiled a little. “Or, y’know, you and Sweetie Belle.”
“Scootaloo…” Apple Bloom closed her eyes a moment to wipe them dry. “You really think it’s not weird then?”
Scootaloo shook her head and gave a soft smile. “I don’t. And anyway, you gotta care some about them if it bothers you this much.”
Apple Bloom grimaced at that. “I don’t know. I think it just bothers me that I don’t feel the same way as everypony else.” She looked away. “I just don’t want my family to think I’m a terrible pony for not feeling the same way they do.”
“Yeah… I guess that makes sense,” Scootaloo said with a shrug, turning her attention to the gravestones. “But you said you wished you could’ve known them better, right? That should count.”
Apple Bloom followed her eyes, squinting in thought. “Yeah. I mean, I sure wish I could’a known what they were like.” With a breathy giggle, she said, “Whenever Applejack does talk about ‘em, she always makes it sound like they were pretty great.”
Scootaloo nodded with a smile. A few moments passed between them in silence before she spoke again. “So, um… why didn’t you want Sweetie Belle to come along? Or did you invite her too?”
Apple Bloom stood from her spot and sighed, walking past the filly. “I didn’t. And honestly, it’s ‘cause I don’t think she’d understand.”
Scootaloo watched her with an arched brow. “How’s that?”
“Well, she still has her parents,” Apple Bloom said as she stepped toward the edge of the hill. “That’s kinda why I wanted you to come. I figured, y’know… you might understand. It’s not that I didn’t want to bring Sweetie, I just didn’t feel like draggin’ her out here for something like this.” She looked back with a sad smile. “Anyway, it’s not like I want her thinking ‘bout stuff like this with her own folks.”
Scootaloo nodded as she stood up. “I get that.”
“But hey… I’m sorry for draggin’ you all the way out here.” Apple Bloom watched her friend walk up beside her. “Though I’m really glad you came along.”
“I’m glad I did too,” Scootaloo said, watching as the last of the sun disappeared behind the line of trees afar. “We should probably head back since it’s getting dark… and I have no idea how to get back to the clubhouse from here.”
Apple Bloom giggled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.” Cantering toward a part in the surrounding trees, she said, “It is Sweet Apple Acres after all.”
Scootaloo smirked. “Guess that makes sense.”
The two trotted a short distance down the hill toward a path that would lead them back to the clubhouse. Just before they stepped beneath the canopy of trees, Apple Bloom paused. Scootaloo stopped a few paces ahead of her when she realized the filly was lagging behind. “Hey, you’re the one leading here,” she called back. “We going or not?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Apple Bloom stammered with a nervous smile. “I just… well, I just remembered something, and I kinda wanna take care of it real quick.” Turning back toward the hill, she said, “Can ya wait here just a sec?”
Scootaloo stared at the filly’s back with a confused look. “Uh, sure.”
“Great, thanks, be right back!” she shouted as she galloped back up the hill.
As Apple Bloom rounded the lone tree to face the stones again, a fluttering sensation filled her chest. There was one particular tradition that the Apples had always done each time they came to visit this place. Applejack and Big Mac would always take a moment to say a few things to their parents, usually about something they had recently accomplished or some random facts about how the crops were faring. Granny Smith would occasionally speak a word or two as well, though recently she seemed to have grown content in her silence. Apple Bloom had only hoped that with the last couple of trips they made, and not feeling comfortable enough to say anything, nopony would think to question her.
Now she had something worth talking about. And for once, she was interested in sharing.
Stepping up to the grave just like her brother and sister would always do, the fluttering sensation gave way to a sudden feeling of awkwardness. She wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to talk now, or even how to go about it. It had been a few years since she said anything, and last she could remember, it had been something silly about a toy her brother had shown her. At least now she felt more justified in approaching them, even if it did feel a little strange.
Apple Bloom shook her head with a grunt. She knew she couldn’t leave Scootaloo waiting forever, so on a whim, she blurted out—
“Hi mom. Hi dad.”
She blinked. Slowly, the still silence of the land around her became uncomfortable. Wishing to fill it with some sort of noise, she continued.
“Um… yeah. It’s me, Apple Bloom.” She winced. Do I really need to introduce myself? “Uh, s-sorry it’s been a while since I talked to y’all. But I kinda got some big news this time.”
Hesitantly, she stood up and turned her flank toward the grave. “I finally got my cutie mark! And the coolest thing too: it’s the same as my best friends!” She smirked a little. “Well, not exactly the same, but pretty close.”
As she continued, the awkward sensation slowly dissipated. “Y’know, I don’t know if I ever told you guys about us. Me and two of my friends made somethin’ called ‘The Cutie Mark Crusaders’ a while back. We did all sorts’a things tryin’ to find our special talents. A lot of fun things, but a lot of scary things too.” Sitting back to her haunches, she said, “I wonder what y’all would’ve thought about it. The way some kids at school talk about their parents, sounds like they don’t let them do a lot of things they want.” She tilted her head slightly. “I wonder if y’all would’ve been like that?”
A few seconds passed. She turned her attention to the woods and saw Scootaloo still waiting patiently for her. It was quickly growing dark, so she couldn’t waste much time.
“So, uh…” Apple Bloom rubbed the back of her mane. “Guess ya got to meet Scootaloo, kinda. She’s one of my best friends, and a part of the Crusaders.” Her ears perked up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I dunno if y’all knew Babs or not, but she’s a Crusader too! ‘Course, now we’ve all got our cutie marks. I was worried for a while when she got hers – ‘cause she got it before us – that we’d all drift apart because of it. Did you know that a Princess helped me to—”
“Hey Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo called up. “We, uh… we probably should get going.”
“R-right, sorry,” Apple Bloom called back. Standing to her hooves, she gave the grave a frown. “I, um… I guess I’ll catch y’all up some more next time. I’ll have to introduce ya to Sweetie Belle one day too… if it’s not too weird…” She wondered for a moment whether to say anything else, but after a moment, she turned back to her friend.
Cantering down the hill to Scootaloo, the two then made their way through the grove of apple trees back to the clubhouse. As they walked together, Apple Bloom gave one last thought to the hill behind them. She still couldn’t say she felt the same way her family did, but she was thankful to have had something worth sharing with her parents. And that alone made her feel she had some connection with them.
With that thought in mind, Apple Bloom led the rest of the way to the clubhouse with a content smile.
Author's Note
Story can follow after An Orphan's Curiosity, but instead of having adoptive parents, Scootaloo is still in foster care here, so it isn't a direct sequel. Fits better with the lack of parental influence seen in Crusaders of the Lost Mark, besides Dash sticking by her side. Also playing around with third-person omniscient narration in a formal sense, since I've never followed the rules strictly before.
