“And...Go!”
Applebloom watched a red blur zip through the orchard. The blur whipped around each tree, apples raining down into buckets set on the ground. The blur came to a stop on the side of Applebloom as she clicked the stopwatch off. A rust-colored pegasus mare with a fiery orange mane pushed her goggles out of her face and stretched out her wings. A Cutie Mark in the form of an Apple cut into a lightning bolt sat on her flanks.
“How’d I do, Aunt Applebloom?”
“Thirty seconds. Best time yet, Cinnamon.” the older mare shifted the toothpick in her mouth, “You got somethin’ on your mind, don’t ya?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Every time Mac and Spitfire argue ‘bout what you oughta be doin’, you come out lookin’ for me.” Applebloom jerked her head towards the filled buckets, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate th’ help, an’ Temp ain’t really up t’ doin’ all the physical work.”
“...Yeah,” the younger mare sighed, “Mom’s got the whole Junior Wonderbolts Academy thing lined up. Dad’s on the fence about it.”
“Well, what do you want to do?”
“...I don’t know.” Cinnamon looked down, away from her aunt.
“Good answer.”
“What?” Cinnamon looked up again, confused.
“Ain’t no pony really sure what they’re gonna do when they’re little. Just ‘cause their cutie mark says one thing, that doesn’t mean they can’t be good at other things. Look at Dinky, her cutie mark says she’s supposed t’ be good at growin’ plants and she’s teachin’ all the little colts and fillies at school.”
Applebloom sat down.
“I ain’t tellin’ you what to do either, Spitfire would accuse me of goin’ against her an’ I try t’ stay outta arguments between Mac and her. Guess what I’m sayin’ is…”
“...That I have to make the choice for myself.”
“Exactly. Well,” Applebloom stood up, “You oughta be on your way, thanks for the help. If you see Temp remind him that he’s gotta pick up Autumn from school today.”
“I will, thanks Aunt Applebloom.”
Cinnamon took off in another red blur, heading towards the town. Applebloom looked out over the barrels.
“...Maybe I should have fixed the wagon before I asked for her help.”
---
Cinnamon pushed open the door to Sugarcube Corner. A cheerful, smiling unicorn mare bounded over, her orange hair barely contained by the hair net.
“Hi Cinnamon!” The older mare cheerfully greeted her.
“Hi, Miss Pumpkin Cake.” the pegasus responded as she slid into a seat.
“What’s with the long and forlorn look?” the Unicorn slid up next to her, “I know what’ll cheer you up!”
“Not a turnover.”
“A tur…” Pumpkin paused, mouth wide open. She closed her mouth and looked at the plate of turnovers, floating in mid air, “....Well, I guess not.”
She placed the plate back onto the counter before turning her attention back to Cinnamon, “Well, I got something even better!”
“I don’t want any doughnuts or malasadas either.” Wordlessly, Pumpkin placed the two trays of pastries back down on the countertop. Another pony stuck his head out of the kitchen and frowned at the trays of food.
“Pumpkin, are you taking all the samples out?”
“....No.” She turned away from her brother.
“Put them back before the flies get to them.”
“You’re no fun, Poundy,” She pouted, “I’ll be back, just tell me what you want.”
“Yeah.”
Cinnamon slumped over as Pumpkin trotted off. The shop’s door jingled as someone else entered.
“Can we get more, mom?” the voice of a young colt asked.
“Can we get doughnuts instead?” another colt asked.
“No. You both get one turnover, that’s it.” A sterner female voice shut them both down, “No buts.”
Apple Cinnamon glanced to the side: Rainbow Dash continued to argue with a pair of pegasus colts, both with white coats and rainbow manes. The older mare caught Cinnamon’s eye.
“One turnover, Skydive. No doughnuts, Silverbolt. Get your treats and go to one of the tables.”
“Fine.” the taller of the two sulked.
“Hi kids! What can I get for you?” Pumpkin beamed at the two colts.
Dash slid into the seat across from Cinnamon. The younger mare propped her head up.
“Something bothering you, kid?”
“Not really.”
“...Cinnamon, don’t lie,” Dash sighed, “I can tell something’s up.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Kid, there’s no point lying.”
“...Mom brought up training camp again.”
“Do you want to go?”
“...I don’t know.”
“...” Rainbow glanced over at her sons as they pulled up to a table and started eating their pastries.
“What did Spitfire say?”
“She said that I have a lot of potential and it would be a waste…”
“She really said that?” Dash cut off Cinnamon, “Tch. She’s still pretty bad at this.”
“What?” Cinnamon sat up.
“There’s no such thing as wasted potential,” Dash waved a hoof, “You wanna stay here and be the best damn apple farmer? Do it.”
“...She’s not going to like it.”
“Kid, don’t think about what they’re going to say, think about what you want to do. You really think she’s going to disown you for not listening to her?”
“Yes.”
Dash paused, “...Well, you sort of got a point, but even she’s not that petty.”
“She once made dad sleep on the sofa for a week after he forgot it was her birthday.”
Dash paused again, frowning, “...Ok, let me rephrase that, she’s not petty enough to jeopardise any future you choose.”
“So what’s your advice?”
Dash shrugged, “Do what you wanna do.”
Cinnamon paused in thought, looking at Rainbow Dash, “That sounds like the kind of thing Mrs. Berry Punch would say.”
“Well...She gives good advice,” Dash shrugged, “You’d be surprised at all the wisdom you can get in a bar. Well, being the Element of Honesty helps.”
Dash glanced back at her sons before continuing, “Anyway, when do you have to make a decision by?”
“Tomorrow.”
“...You didn’t think of asking for help earlier?”
“I thought I would have figured it out by now,” the mare shrugged.
“...Well, either way, good luck. I gotta get these two home.” Dash got up and turned to the colts, “Let’s go, kids.”
“Skydive ate half of my turnover,” the other colt, Silverbolt, grumbled.
“You said you didn’t want to finish it,” Skydive countered.
“I was gonna save it for later!”
Dash sighed, “Let’s go, kids.”
---
Apple Cinnamon trotted through the door. Big Macintosh glanced away from the stove.
“Hi there, Sweetie.”
“Hi dad. Is mom home yet?”
“Takin’ a bath,” Mac glanced in the oven, “S’gonna be Sheppard’s Pie for dinner”
“...Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Who’s gonna take over the farm when you die?”
“...I put some thought inta it. Applebloom seems like the most obvious one. Yer cousin, Zap’s shown some potential,” Mac paused, “ ‘Course AJ won’t like it, but everypony ain’t fit for th’ high life.”
“....And?”
“It’s big family, you know that jus’ as well as I do. Ain’t gonna run outta folks who want to help out.”
Mac paused for a moment as he opened the oven. He bit into a pan holder and pulled the pan out of the oven. He hurried to the table and placed it on the table.
He spat out the pot holder before continuing on, “So don’t worry ‘bout your old man.”
Cinnamon slid into her seat at the table as someone else came down the stairs. Spitfire settled into her seat as Big Macintosh took a large slice of the pie for himself.
“...Well?” Spitfire looked at her daughter, “Have you made up your mind?”
“...I have,” Apple Cinnamon looked up, “I’ll try it, but I don’t want any special treatment.”
“...We can arrange that.”
“And, if I don’t like it...I want to be able to come back here and work.”
“...That was always an option, Cinnamon.” Spitfire sighed, “I know I put a lot of pressure on you, but I want you to do what you want, and I want you to be happy.”
“I know, mom.”
“I’ll sign you up tomorrow,” Spitfire paused to serve herself a slice of pie.
“I’m proud of you, you know that, right?” She asked.
“I know.”