Applebloom hung her head dejectedly while dragging her hooves across the dirt road, heading towards the schoolhouse to meet with her friends.

Truffle Shuffle didn't want to see her, instead he sent his mother to talk for him. She said he wasn't feeling well, but Applebloom knew he had to be grossed out at the idea of them together.

'I thought I had a chance, I don't care if he's a little on the heavy side. I like a colt with some fluff on 'em; I thought he'd appreciate that... maybe I need to eat even less than I already am, and should I workout more? But I'm usually so sore after chores anyway..."

Her tummy growled in protest.

She was on the verge of tears, knowing her efforts weren't enough, until the familiar calls of her friends begged her attention.

When Applebloom looked up, her entire body seized upon looking at the bay Earth Pony stallion they were with. The world fell away, replacing it with him alone.

He was facing away, then turned to see her approaching. His long, dark mane flipped out of his face, and cascaded over his neck, silhouetting behind his copper visage.

'Whoa daddy!' Applebloom felt herself melting under his intense, smoldering gaze.

Her eyes darted from one attractive detail to the next. His shiny coat, glossy almost black mane and tail and matching leg socks. A toned rump and muscular shoulders.

'He's a brunette!'

Ponies with black or darker colorations were just as rare and desired as their pure white counterparts. But just as scarce among the colorful pastel ponies, were those of earthy tones.

Applebloom's face was burning, having caught a glimpse of Earth stallion's dangling sheathage when he turned at just the right angle towards her. It also helped that she was slightly downhill and shorter.

From Atchmon's perspective, he watched the little yellow filly seem to nearly pee herself at the mere sight of him. All He did was shake the heavy, coarse hair out of his face, and next she was standing and staring stock still, pinning her ears back, and trembling.

He looked to the others for assurance, but they covering their eyes in embarrassment.

"Oh not again!" Said Scoots
"Oh for peat sake." Said Sweetie.

Atchmon sighed. 'Guess I really am that scary-looking, guess that's one thing that didn't change... I'll try to be nice anyway.'

"Hey, nice to meet you, I'm Atchmon, what's your name?" He went to shake her hoof.

Applebloom reached out autonomously and grasped his hoof. The baritone in his voice shook her to the bone, combined with the firm grip on her hoof, started a chain reaction of synapses that Applebloom was powerless to stop.

It was like she touched a hot electrical wire. The energy coursed from his grasp, buzzing through her leg, down her spine, and ending at the tip of her tail. She felt as though she were floating on fluffy clouds. There were butterflies in her tummy and a growing tingle beneath her tail.

"Hellooo! Equus to Applebloom!" Scootaloo waved a hoof, but Applebloom couldn't take her eyes off the pony of her dreams.

"Every time with a new colt." Sweetie groaned.

"Gotta admit, he is kind of..." Scootaloo left the statement hanging in the air, choosing grin devilishly and gesture sultry looks behind his back.

Atchmon was a little upset the filly didn't take to him like the others, looking disappointed, since she was now pinning her tail down like a frightened animal.

'C'mon don't embarrass yourself now, say something!' Applebloom tried, but found it impossible speak, she could feel her mouth moving, but no sound came out. She tried to swallow her nervousness, but her tongue and throat felt so dry.

"Applebloom, you're clacking!" Sweetie's voice managed to come through.

Applebloom snapped out of her daze, while still making some clicking sounds. She paused, with her pink tongue peeking out cutely from her lips; then quickly turned to cover her mouth.

'Oh gosh, that's so embarrassin', he's gonna think I'm still a foal! I thought I outgrew that habit years ago!'

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle glanced at each other in shock as Applebloom composed herself. They both cringed and shook their heads as their hopelessly desperate friend tried to put the moves on him.

Applebloom cleared her throat, trying to get rid of her twangy accent. "Hai- cough- I mean, pleased to make your acquaintance, m'lord." The yellow filly tipped her white cowpony hat adorned with a pink bow matching the one in her tail; greeting with a borderline seductive inflection. "How may I be of service." She emphasized by holding a hoof to her chest.

Atchmon layed his ears back, fidgeted and smiled uncomfortably as she daintily took his hoof. He looked to the others for help, who both couldn't watch.

She was like a supine cat, the way she saddled up next to him, and was about to guide him toward Sweet Apple Acres.

Thankfully he was saved further awkwardness when a pink pony mare showed up from the Schoolhouse.

"Excuse me, girls, but do you know this stallion?" A mulberry Earth Pony mare asked as she approached.

Sweetie answered before she turned around, knowing who was asking. "Yes, Miss Cheerilee; this is Atchmon, he's our newest client." She emphasized at Applebloom, who smiled and shrugged sheepishly.

He gave the adult mare a welcoming smile. "Hey." He greeted.

"Yeah, he's gonna be the first grown Pony that we'll get to help find his Cutie Mark!" Scootaloo stated excitedly, while rearing up and making little hoofy-kicks.

"Oh!" Cheerilee sounded surprised as she looked him over, noticing his blank flanks. She looked at him pitifully, and spoke very slowly. "Good. To. Meet. You. Atch-mon. You. Are. A. Very. Brave. Colt. Don't give up. You'll Find. Your. Cutie Mark. Even if you don't, you're still a special pony, and you're so brave for trying."

His smile turned into a look of abject confusion, before frowning indignantly. "Uh... Thank. You. That's. Very. Nice. Of. You. To. Say. That." He mocked and frowned.

"Uhm, Miss Cheerilee, he's not one of our 'special' clients." Sweetie informed the mare with a strained grin and chuckled awkwardly.

She cast a glance at the girls, and realized her mistake. "Oh goodness me, I- I am so sorry, if I offended you, I-"

The girls tittered while the adults made amends.

Atchmon waved it off nonchalantly, while keeping his irritation at bay. "It's okay, you just gave me a good idea of what a cutie mark means." He glanced at the schoolhouse. "Are you their teacher, Mrs...?" he asked, gesturing a nod to the Crusaders.

"Yes, the one and only," she chuckled while gesturing to herself. "And it's just Miss Cheerilee," she added with a hint of melancholy in her expression.

"You teach for the whole town, alone?" He asked, and she nodded. "That must be a rough job." Atchmon said casually, while leaning a shoulder on the white wooden fence.

A pink blush appeared on Cheerilee's mulberry cheeks. "It would be, if I didn't love teaching my little Ponies so much." She changed her posture, and stood with a hindleg crossed behind the other.

"But once they get their Cutie marks, and finish basics, fillys and colts go out to find their own way, or apprentice under somepony else to pursue their interests."

The adults mingled for a minute. Atchmon learned more about Equestria's education system. Apparently there was no such thing as "higher education".

He was happy to hear that.

It seemed as if he were living in the old days of his world, where going to a prestigious school was rare and something the whole town celebrated. The most famous and known of which was Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns.

Atchmon felt that name oozed bigotry and exclusion. Not all because he wasn't a Unicorn, more at the fact he couldn't go even if he wanted to.

Otherwise public schools taught history and basic life skills. Even cooking!

Atchmon nodded as the conversation died and became a pregnant pause. That same sinking feeling came back. He needed to get better at small talk. So without thinking it through, and keeping the subject related to Cheerilee's profession, he then asked:

"I don't suppose you teach night classes for adults, do you?"

The girls mouths hung agape, and Miss Cheerilee was helpless to cover her giggles.

"I'm probably going to need someone to catch me up."

Sweetie Belle didn't expect Atchmon to flirt with Miss Cheerilee, so she was conflicted about what to do. For one, her favorite teacher was crushing on the stallion who Rarity fancied. Something she would've been very supportive of in the past, just to see Miss Cheerilee happy; but the conflict of interest was causing her pause.

Atchmon just held his smile, clueless as to why his question garnered such a laughing fit from the teacher.

Applebloom looked steamed and wanted some of that attention back. They were in the middle of a conversation after all.

Scoots smiled goofily at the drama unfolding.

Cheerilee liked him. Really liked him. Her hind legs were crossed and she was tittering like a school filly with a crush. She came down from her elation.

"Ooh, well, I could be persuaded to do a bit of home tutoring." She reached to caress his shoulder, but he was tugged away before she could.

Atchmon was going to ask more about the teacher, before his foreleg was pulled, and he was being both pushed and dragged away.

"That's it, time to go!" Sweetie Belle was pulling by his foreleg with magic. He was dragged, leaving hoof sized furrows in the dirt.

"Come on, we don't have all day!" Scoots rasped, pushing from the side.

"We better get a move on, lots to do today, bye Miss Cheerilee!" Applebloom grunted.

"Uh hey!" He smiled back. "Guess I better get goin', it was good to meet you, Miss Cheerilee," Atchmon winked and gave a devilish grin.

"Oh dear, looks like I have competition," she waved back with a bemused expression as the stallion was dragged away by the three fillies.

"Oh Atchmon!" She called out after him, watching him struggle to turn his head around while being flanked by the pushy girls. "When you do get your Cutie Mark, come see me again, would you?"

Atchmon looked back.

Miss Cheerilee turned away, her rump fully towards him as she trotted in the opposite direction, and emphasized each movement with a sway of her hips; doing her best to show off her body. However plain it was for a normal Earth Pony mare.

Any experienced stallion would recognize this as a novice seduction technique. The kind of attempt an unconfident mare would use to express interest.

And Cheerilee was very unconfident. But a mark-less stallion was within her league, even if she was pushing mid-30s; stallions were rumored to prefer older mares. If not for wealth, then experience, among other things.

Cheerilee bit her lip from the excitement of flirting with a stranger; feeling like a school filly all over again. Though doing her best and failing to not show it, she saw her message got through to the stallion, if his expression of shocked disbelief was any indication.

She quickly hid inside the empty schoolhouse and failed to cover her giddy schoolfilly giggles and squeals after flirting with a cute guy.

Something stirred in Atchmon, after seeing all of this, though ignorant to how bad the attempt was; he wasn't blind.

Did the local school teacher have the hots for him?

'Nah, no way! But then again...'

He found himself extra motivated to find his Cutie Mark regardless.

Atchmon and his entourage of young, nubile teenaged fillies trotted from outside the town outskirts; cresting over a few hills along the way.

White fences lined along the dirt road, separating it from an apple orchard.

Atchmon tried to gaze through the thickets, but the apple trees numbered far too many to count.

As they trotted, he reflected back on his life journey as they hopped over a broken section of fence.

Well, the girls hopped over it, while Atchmon carefully and methodically, coordinated each of his legs one at a time over the obstacle.

It was harder to keep an eye on four limbs instead of two. He still clipped a back hoof and did a little stumble-hop.

They cut through the apple orchard. Row upon row trees aligned in mesmerizing patterns.

'Looks like it's the 'Little Man of the Woods' story all over again.' Atchmon thought, and recalled the story from his heritage.

When young boys come of age; a 'little person', a pigmy of the woods, leprechaun, Spirit guide, whatever the name; It would take the boy to meet with three elders, and the boy would choose a path to be of service to the Tribe.

Atchmon was sure his Spirit guide came to him in the form of a kid he never met before, at a family gathering. He made friends with the kid at his cousin's house when he was little, but he seemed more mature than his size and age belied to Atchmon.

They were playing on his cousin's jungle gym. The kid said they were related, but young Atchmon was skeptical, given he looked nothing like his family. Dirty Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin.

Then the boy convinced Atchmon to come with him. Why and for what reason, Atchmon couldn't recall; only a gesture with the accompanying beckon was all he remembered.

They didn't journey through a deep forest like in the stories. Instead, they took a short-cut through a wooded lot to his other cousin's house up the road.

He didn't meet three elders, instead they went to his other cousin's house, where most of the men were gathered, including two of his great uncles, and one regular uncle. The 'elders'.

The first 'elder' would carry a bow, or in Atchmon's case; it was a rifle one uncle was showing off. The path of a brave. Lending his strength to his people. Warrior, protector, worker, builder, provider.

The second, a medicine pouch; or a book in his case. Atchmon had no interest in it, but his uncle seemed to cling to it. The path of a shaman. Healer of body and spirit, sharer of knowledge, a holy man, instructor, and teller of stories.

The third, a smoking pipe. Or an offered cigarette, after Atchmon was curious and asked about what it's like. A tribe leader. Chieftain. Pillar of the community. A man of peace. A Politician.

Had Atchmon been more familiar with his heritage at such a young age, he might have given the cigarette more thought beyond 'being allowed to do drugs', and checked out the rifle instead. He didn't hold back, and suffered a coughing fit that scarred him for life from the gateway drug.

Soon after, he and the boy headed back to join the rest of the reunion, and to find where the cooler with all the soda was. They promised to not tell anyone they snuck away and had a smoke. Just as it goes in the story.

Except in the fable, the little person would leave with a warning: 'speak of this to no one, or you will be forever lost'.

Atchmon couldn't recall ever telling anyone about his 'spirit quest'. But it seemed to not matter; he was just as lost now, as he was before ending up in Equestria.

'Guess it's three little peop- ponys this time.' He grinned at how ridiculous the idea was. 'Ooh, or maybe they're the elders... They've been ponies longer than I have.' He regarded them thoughtfully, then flushed and looked away to find something else to think about.

It was all he could do to distract himself from the trio of bare filly butts happily trotting in front of him.

In the beginning, he was looking forward to what guidance they had for him; but as they walked, he became increasingly self-conscious.

At first, he noticed the fillies teenaged girl butts; all three had matching Cutie Marks with a small unique flair for each owner. But that was left forgotten as he began to really compare them to each other.

Applebloom's bright yellow posterior was larger around than the other two by a visible margin; a full, firm-looking rump with some subtle definition, perfectly balanced between the other two.

Sweetie Belle was smooth, with no definition, a near-perfect; albeit, smaller copy of her elder sister. Plush with some jiggle.

And lastly, Scootaloo, hers was such a perky little round butt, the smallest of of three, with a tight suppleness that only a fit athlete could possess.

Despite their differences, the three girls were largely a matching trio. They all possessed a decent hourglass shape from shoulder-to-flank. Only Applebloom was a bit pear-shaped, while Scootaloo was the opposite. Sweetie, again, possessing the best balance between the two.

Atchmon was doing all he could to ignore their raised and swishing tails, which to his discomfort, the girls practiced good posture.

Very good posture.

'Don't look, don't look. Ooh what nice fluffy clouds, and pretty birds, the trees; and... don't you dare look; you can look at that boulder, that's a nice boulder; look at that boulder go, doing it's boulder thing...'

His neck craned back as far as it could go, until he needed to watch where he was going. 'What a boulder!'

Slowly his sight was drawn back to the fillys backsides; catching glances of their delicate flowers as their tails occasionally swished out of the way. A mottled peachy-yellow for Applebloom, a pale fleshy white with a beauty mark for Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo had a dark almost black slit, mottled as it went up to completely salmon pink from anus to dock.

He cursed that male part of himself. The part that always looked at the opposite sex for what they could give him. Isolation, both before and after Equestria, extremely limited interaction with the opposite sex --mostly due to the equally low female population within his bubble-- all culminated to one thing.

Atchmon was too immature and inexperienced to view girls as anything but objects.

He was always fine at the start, treating strangers like friends, whenever he met someone new. But then, even now, he eventually couldn't help but take notice of their feminine features and take notes.

All made worse by the fact the fillies bare asses were hanging out in the wind. So it was inevitable that he'd notice and take an interest.

He couldn't help himself, despite being aware of this flaw. It was only biology. The male part of his brain automatically searched for desirable traits in a mate. Or mates, in this case.

And like biology, he was helpless to resist against the biochemical and hormonal changes hapoening within his body, due to outside stimuli.

'Shit, shit, shit, don't get hard; not now... fuck!' Atchmon's penis emerged from its sheath. The weighty member swung side to side, bumping against his belly after a needy flex, sending pleasurable tingles from the tip.

Atchmon's cheeks flushed as he quickly looked at the ground in equal parts fear, shame, and humiliation. Fear of getting caught staring at what was, to him, clearly jailbait. Shame for looking, liking, and becoming aroused at what he saw. Humiliation for not having the strength to look away, or be disgusted at himself.

'Hold on, are they old enough? They don't look like it, but things could be different here. Don't horses mature fully in a few years? I mean, what is considered mature here? Is it the same in my world, or is it when you get a Cutie Mark?' He thought curiously at the dirt.

Shame came back in spades over thoughts of justifying his lecherous looks. Shame was winning out over everything in this situation.

But his distracted thoughts and questions managed to curb his erection, remaining as a flaccid tube of floppy horse flesh poking out below his waist.

"Hey Atchmon?" One of the girls called his attention.

The stallion's head shot up from staring at the ground, sweating bullets, knowing he just bought a one-way ticket straight to prison.

That thought opened the floodgates to other thoughts, particularly memories, and of what happens to incarcerated people.

Not people. Pony. Pedo Pony prison! The dots connected in an instant. Prison meant he'd end up being somepony's bitch, and likely getting fucked in the ass. That was bad. But Pony prison meant getting fucked in the ass by a massive horsecock; and if his own was anything to go by...

Atchmon's butthole clenched, while his erection made a full reversal. Any faster, he'd be sitting down to have a pee from then on, assuming he could ever unclench again.

"Hay what's with you, buddy?" Scootaloo waved a hoof in front of his face.

Atchmon's expression was of shocked surprise, seeing Scootaloo was trotting beside him now.

"Aww, are you feeling self-conscious about not havin' a Cutie Mark?" The yellow one said in a twangy voice. "Don't worry, we'll help ya out."

Atchmon's head whipped the other way, seeing Applebloom on the other side of him. The two fillys pressed into his sides, too close for comfort. His brain was going in summersaults after feeling how silky smooth and soft their coats were. So much in fact it took several seconds of contact before being sure he felt anything at all.

The girls were fascinated by him, and started asking questions and arguing before he had the wherewithal to respond.

Applebloom looked at him suspiciously. "Is it true that you used to be an alien?"

Scootaloo asked. "Are you and Rarity just friends, good friends, or really good friends?"

"Hey I'm asked him a question first!"
"I already asked him that!"
"So? I wasn't there!"
"Not my problem!"

"Gottapeebye!" He reared up and half bucked all the way, with his front half trying to keep up with the back half.

"See what you did!"
"What I did?"

"Girls, emergency meeting now!" Sweetie Belle squealed. "Applebloom, you need to stop trying to court every available colt that passes by; you've been chasing, what, three boys now!?"

"Well you didn't tell me he was a catch, if I had prior warnin', I could've been prepared; I was denied. Critical. Need-to-know. In-formation!" Applebloom emphasized.

Sweetie bit her lip, knowing she didn't let on much. "Is this because Diamond Tiara stole Rumble from you?"

Applebloom pursed her lips and looked away, wounded. She really liked the idea of courting a future pontential wonderbolt.

Then there was Tender Taps, but he didn't reciprocate her feelings. Snails was a very short while, he actually forgot to show up to their date... actually he didn't remember her at all for several seconds. Like the fact they went to school together for practically their whole lives.

Sweetie looked at the other and said warningly. "Scootaloo..."

"Hey, I've been nothing but nice to him." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I can't help but be fascinated."

She sighed. "I'm gonna go get him, you two go ahead and get set up and... just behave yourselves from now on." Sweetie narrowed her eyes, and was about to slink away to go get him.

The other two smirked at each other, then put on straight faces when Sweetie whipped back to catch them in the act. Finding they didn't move an inch, she left.

"You messed up my pickup line." Applebloom shouldered Scoots.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

Applebloom smirked. "I was gonna ask if he was an alien, then ask if he had anything to prob with; to see how he'd react."

Scootaloo grumbled. "That's the worst pickup line ever!" 'Dang it, I wish I'd thought of that!' She thought.

After a quick bladder break and a bit of snake wrangling, they made it to the girl's club house, which sat nearby a tree house; with no other trouble.

Sweetie was very accommodating, patient, and understanding of Atchmon's condition.

"It's okay, I'm sure you're dealing with enough as it is, but this will be a quick meet, then we'll go back home for dinner." She had assured him, before leading them back.

After learning their lesson with Bulk Biceps, the CMCs invested and built a larger structure for grown ponies with Cutie Mark problems.

It was just a converted shed, made into an ramshackle office space. Complete with a salvaged desk, stained counselors couch, water jug and tea pot station with packaged sweets --likely where the stain came from-- a large bookshelf sparse with only a few books along with a house plant and hourglass, and finally what looked like a crafting corner. The wall behind the desk was covered with children's drawings of various activities. A whiteboard listed random symbols --cutie marks-- and awarded them using gold stars and pony smile faces.

"Okay, have a seat and make yourself comfortable." Applebloom instructed as he did. The second-hand councilor couch creaked under his weight.

The girls dawned their CMC capes with gold inlay.

'Those are kind of cool, I like the color.' he thought.

"Okay, first order of business is to welcome new members! WELCOME!" They all shouted. Atchmon nearly made a horsey squeal.

They pulled out a long scroll and read off the revised edition of their creed, naming Atchmon in several synonyms as the newest member of their club.

"Congratulations!" They shouted together.

'I feel like this should be a bigger ceremony, with more people.' Atchmon felt self conscious and couldn't match their energy, given how he was the only inductee. He withheld the fuzzy feeling he got from being treated so special. "So... what do I do to make my mark appear?"

"First off, do you know and understand what a Cutie Mark is?" Sweetie Belle asked.

Rarity had explained to him what they were, when they had nothing else to do but talk. So he had an idea of what a Cutie Mark was. Originally referred to as a 'Destiny Mark', they were once rare, but now were commonplace. They were a symbol of that pony's unique traits, consistenting of any combination of talent, skills, and personality. And at times, it sounded as if Rarity was describing the very expression of her soul, imprinted on her flanks for the world to see.

Atchmon answered as much.

Scootaloo explained. "The 'destiny' part is more to encourage foals to get out and discover themselves; most try too hard and end up doing a bunch of things that doesn't have to do with who they are, or what they're good at." They each chuckled and looked between each other.

Sweetie continued. "That's right, it's the purest expression of the Harmony inside each of us." They all bared their flanks towards him.

Applebloom interjected. "But they can also be genetic, like in my family; we all have an apple of some shape or form to show we all belong to the same Clan."

Atchmon blushed and tried to look anywhere else. It was hard to concentrate while having three perfectly shaped, nubile posteriors in front of him.

Scoots spoke next. "We're a somewhat special case, we aren't related; but we all got very similar Cutie Marks." Then Sweetie said. "There's been one other confirmed case, where multiple ponies each got their cutie marks at the same time; so we know they also connect us to others in ways we don't yet understand."

Atchmon started to feel overwelmed. "I kind of get the sense this is important, but I don't really understand how big of a deal this is for me; but I do want to know what it is, but I'm also not really looking forward to finding out."

Sweetie Belle cleared her throat. "Let me put it to you this way for you as a stallion," she took a breath. "It's a really big deal!" She shouted, her voice squeaking at the end. The others answering in quick succession.

"Everypony will treat you like an incompetent foal!"
"Other mares will think Rarity is a foal snatcher!"
"They'll either look down on you, or pity you!"
"You can't go out or do things on your own!"
"You'll be treated like an object!"
"Colts won't want to court you!" Said Applebloom. The others stopped and looked at her.

She shrugged. "What? It's true."
"That doesn't apply to stallions." Scootaloo replied flatly.
"It could!" Applebloom retorted.

Sweetie got between them. "Girls, we're getting off-track!" She composed herself, and spoke calmly. "Basically, it's also a sign of your maturity."

"It shows what you're good at." Scootaloo mirrored.

"And it's an assurance of who you are." Applebloom added.

Atchmon was reeling at the info dump, and briefly wondered if he'd need a crow bar to un-lay-back the ears plastered to his skull.

The girls were wild hellions one moment, then calm, peaceful angels the next. They even put their hooves together.

He asked. "Okay, so, how do I get started finding this thing?" He gestured at his side.

Scootaloo answered. "Today is mainly going to be for introspection."

Applebloom next said. "We'll make a profile using your answers and we'll work through it with you from there."

"Just remember there's no rush, or quick way to get a Cutie Mark, no pony can make it appear for you, or before its time." Sweetie informed.

Atchmon got frustrated. "Now hang on a minute! 'Before it's time' sounds like it'll show up on its own, without me havin' to do anything!" He pouted and folded his legs, confused all over again.

"It's better if you discover it on your own, otherwise we'll have to pivot so you can understand yourself, before realizing yourself; we help grown up all the time who've either lost their purpose, or never thought to discover it after it already came."

Atchmon felt like his brain just caught fire. None of this made sense.

"But you're a special case, so we're excited to help you through it all." Said Scoots.

Applebloom got their attention. "Wait ya'll, he's got a point, he's obviously older than any colt or filly that would've gotten one by now."

"So what should we do?" Scoots asked.

"What can we do, is more like it." Said Sweetie.

"There's a chance we may need to think of new techniques to help him out." Applebloom thoughtfully rubbed her chin. "We've helped plenty of adults reconnect with their Cutie Mark, and a lot never discovered theirs on their own; so it shouldn't be that much different."

Sweetie stepped in. "That's a valid point, but there's nothing we can do about it today, so we should table that for another time, and keep with standard procedure for now."

'When did they start talkin' all business like that?' Atchmon thought.

"All in favor?" Applebloom rose her hoof up.

"Aye." The other two responded, doing the same.

"All opposed?" They looked at him.

Atchmon smiled and answered in a horsey voice. "Neigh?" He and the girls chuckled, tittered, and chuffed at their fun.

The girls got paper notes, stickers, glitter, and crayons before sitting with him.

Sweetie clicked a pen. "Alright, let's begin."

"What do you like to do? What are you passionate about? What is something that makes you special? What is the thing that makes you, you?" They each asked happily in turn.

Atchmon thought for a moment, and wanted to match their excitement; but doubt caught up to him, and he lost much of the enthusiasm he had before starting.

Was it hunting? No. He used to enjoy it, but he didn't always hunt because he like to. Sometimes it was an excuse to run away, and get some good food for a change from their processed meat, Raman noodle, and potato diet. It was as much a necessity as it was a hobby.

He had years to indulge in his hobby, until it lost all the appeal it once held. No longer was it freeing, but work. A lot of work that wasn't optional.

Gaming? He liked it, a lot; but it wasn't a passion that drove him to pursue it. It was always a break to avoid his real life issues.

Math? He was good at it. He could solve fractions faster than anyone in school... but after taking and failing the ACT test, he was certain his teachers didn't prepare anyone for the real world.

Sports? He played, and was only okay at them. Football. Baseball. Basketball. Golf. Bowling. He loved baseball the most. But His school was too small to compete seriously in anything, and there were shortages of players and budgetary constraints a small public school couldn't swing.

He asked Rarity about the sport, and funnily enough, ponies developed horse sports like polo and jousting on their own. But no Baseball.

What good is a talent in baseball in a world without it?

What else was there? There had to be something else. What were his ambitions before Equestria, beyond a vague desire to be wealthy and successful?

He couldn't recall ever having a dream.

Every kid wanted to be an astronaut, firefighter, or policeman; because those were "cool". But as he got older, taller, dumber... His height alone would disqualify him from being an astronaut. Firefighters struggled to make good money, the same could be said for most professions that didn't require college, at that time-- that's what he was always told anyway-- and most he knew were volunteers, so no money there. A cop? Why would he want to join the very force that took food and money from his family, simply because some old guys wrote on a paper that said his people needed permits to hunt food on the very land they were forced to be moved to in the first place! That was some bullshit!

It made Atchmon angry all over again. The old wound was picked open, as if it never had time to heal... but after calming down, his thoughts went blank; unable to think of anything that he remotely liked to do.

Archery? No. He was good at it from years of necessity.

There was scarcly anything he actually liked to do that wasn't dopamine inducing, mindless drivel; and the things he liked to do, he didn't like them anymore, or they weren't something he'd live hand to mouth by.

Atchmon got a dreaded sinking feeling. There was a reason that crystal tree didn't give him a Cutie Mark from the onset. He felt defeated, and had to face facts...

The simple truth of it was...

He wasn't special.

Author's Note

That wasn't my spirit journey, it was a cousin's, cousin's, cousin's, friend twice removed, or so I've heard. You believe me, right?

Wow this one got away from me. I think I still went too detailed on Cutie marks, but at the same time they are relevant to the over arching story. I tend to get bored with how others do this segment, because they never change or add any new information.

So I basically did the thing I hate, because it's going to be relevant later in a small way.