Recipe For Disasterby fluttershywriterChaptersChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 1Pound Cake didn't need to see the sun to tell that it was morning. He had his own personal alarm clock: the smell of cupcakes baking. Grinning, he leapt out of his bed and ran downstairs, ignoring his twin sister's grumbles. He slid into the kitchen on slippery hooves. "Awake already?" asked Pinkie Pie, tossing a batch of pink cupcakes into the oven. "Maybe you can help me make the next batch of cupcakes!" Pound Cake felt a knot grow in his chest, but he forced himself to keep smiling. "Um, no thanks. But I'm okay with watching you do it." He wasn't lying—he loved to watch Pinkie Pie bake. For as long as he could remember, he had always sat in the kitchen, while Pinkie Pie created some crazy new concoction. Pinkie gave him the same worried smile that she had been giving him ever since he stopped baking, but she didn't force anything on him, which he was relieved about. He would never tell his mother and father, of course, but sometimes he felt more comfortable with Pinkie Pie than with them. "Um, anyway, I've been thinking about how I should get my cutie mark," he said quickly. Pinkie's face brightened. He knew that she had been waiting for him to get his cutie mark ever since Pumpkin Cake got hers a year ago, but his parents had obviously told her not to rush it. "I was thinking that, um, maybe I could get my cutie mark in flying or something? I know that it probably won't happen, but . . ." He let his voice trail off. He didn't want to get her hopes up. Since when had he succeeded at anything? "Ooh! That sounds super-fun!" Pinkie's cheery side was back. "How are you going to do it?" Pound fidgeted. "Um, actually, I haven't really figured that part out yet. I figured that, I don't know, fly a really long distance or something. I'm the best flier in my class," he said, trying to make it sound like he wasn't bragging. "Didn't one of your friends get her cutie mark in flying?" "Rainbow Dash did," said Pinkie Pie brightly. "She did a sonic rainboom! Maybe she could teach you!" Pound Cake's shoulders fell. "Right. A sonic rainboom." Rainbow Dash was the only known pony that could do a sonic rainboom, so Pound didn't quite have high expectations. If that was what it took to get a flying cutie mark, he could cross flying off the list as a potential cutie mark. "I don't think that I'll be able to do that." "Saying something's impossible makes it impossible!" said Pinkie Pie brightly, stirring pink frosting at lightning speeds. "My friend Twilight says that it's impossible to farm rocks, but my family sure was able to! We always had a big rock harvest every winter, and Dad just wrote to me telling me how many rocks sprang up out of the ground a weeks or so ago." "Right," said Pound Cake. Most ponies were hesitant to believe Pinkie's stories, but years of living with her had taught him to just accept that she could do anything. "But anyway, Pinkie, I was thinking that maybe I could do something aside from a sonic rainboom. You know, something that's a little bit more . . . reasonable." He took a step towards the door, feeling hopeless even before he had experimented with flight. Pinkie Pie dashed out to block to door of Sugarcube Corner. "You're looking upset again," she warned him. She held up a bag of flour. "I don't have to pour this flour on me, do I, Poundy?" He smiled in spite of himself. According to Pinkie Pie, the first time she foalsat him and Pumpkin, they had cried nonstop unless she dumped a bag of flour on herself. (There was also a part of the story where he flew around the room and Pumpkin levitated herself with magic, but he didn't quite believe that part.) "No, Pinkie, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired. And don't call me Poundy." "Here, take this cupcake," she commanded him, shoving a warm cupcake into his mouth. "I'll tell your parents where you are! Be home for breakfast, Poundy!" He didn't bother to correct her about his nickname. "I will," he said, his mouth still full of cupcake. Turning to the door, he fluttered his wings just enough to lift himself off the bakery floor and drifted lazily out the door. Outside, the sun was starting to warm the roads. A few ponies were setting up their businesses, including Pinkie's friend, Applejack. The orange pony waved to him brightly as she poured bushels of apples inside baskets. Blushing, Pound Cake waved back and avoided eye contact. He always felt a bit nervous around Pinkie Pie's friends—they had saved Equestria too many times to count and were personal friends with Princess Celestia! (Although, to be fair, he felt nervous around most ponies, unlike his outgoing twin.) Feeling self-conscious flying around other ponies, Pound Cake veered away from the road and drifted a bit higher, just above the roofs of the houses. Flying always cleared his mind and allowed him to think, which sometimes was good and sometimes was terrible. Terrible was a good word for the thoughts going through his mind now. It's not your fault, he told himself, echoing his parents' words. She forgives you. It's not a big deal. You worry too much. It was an accident. An accident. Why did he always have to cause so many accidents? Who cared if he didn't mean to cause them? He could seriously hurt somepony—and he had hurt somepony. He stopped in midair, allowing himself to hover for a moment before he fell to the ground. Luckily, he wasn't high enough to hurt himself—or somepony else, he thought, the memory invading his mind as usual before he could banish it. Pound Cake lay in his sprawled position on the ground for a few moments, enjoying how it felt to be connected to the earth. Sometimes, when he was flying or even when he was just walking, it felt to him that he wasn't really in Equestria—like somepony had stolen his soul away from him and he was just a body going through the movements. Pound heaved himself off of the ground and slowly plodded back home, where there were distractions from his thoughts. As long as he didn't look directly at his sister. When he got back to Sugarcube Corner, there was already a line of hungry ponies. He gave a quick smile to Pinkie, who was serving the ponies, and headed to the more private section of the bakery, where his parents were frantically stirring up cake batter. "Good, you're here," said his mother, globs of frosting stuck in her normally perfect hair. "Quick, eat your cereal and go bring these treats to Pinkie." She gestured to the many trays of desserts on the bakery's counters. "The ponies are beginning to get anxious, and the last thing we want are unhappy customers. We would do it, of course, but some unicorn in Canterlot ordered a cake that he has to have by the end of today." Pound Cake bolted down his cereal while his mother and father grumbled about how some ponies just couldn't be bothered to tell them in advance. He abandoned his half-eaten cereal, growing tired of hearing his parents talk about business. He grabbed a tray of cookies, careful not to get too near to the oven, and pranced away. "Hey Pinkie, I've got more—" He froze when he saw a flash of an orange mane. He tried to put down the cookies at Pinkie's hooves and slink away, but she spotted him before he could disappear. "Poundy!" squealed Pinkie Pie, wildly waving a hoof. Everypony in the bakery turned to Pound Cake, who was blushing furiously and attempting to slowly back away without anypony noticing. She scooped him up with one hoof. "Are you going to help me serve these hungry ponies today, or are you busy helping your mom and dad in the kitchen?" "Um, actually, I'm supposed to bring the treats to you," stammered Pound Cake. He was still trying to escape the room. He couldn't be in a room with her. "You sure? Don't you want to serve ponies like your sister?" asked Pinkie Pie. With the hoof that wasn't holding Pound Cake, she scooped up Pumpkin Cake and dangled them in front of each other. It was just as bad as Pound remembered it. The streaks of black and pink across her yellow face. Her horn chipped like a Changeling. He struggled to escape Pinkie's hoof, struggled to escape the staring ponies, struggled to escape the memories that were attacking him . . . Laughing siblings. One misplaced hoof, and a filly's life changes forever. One second the air's filled with sugar and laughter, the next second it's filled with screams. And all you do is stand there and— "Will you hurry up?" complained a stallion in the middle of the line. "I want my cupcakes already!" "Yeah," shouted a gray pegasus. "I could be eating a dozen muffins by now!" Pound managed to escape the powerful grasp of Pinkie Pie and sprinted back to the kitchen, trying to breathe. "What took you so long?" asked his father, looking even more stressed than his mother. "It sounds like there's some sort of mob going on out there! Is Pinkie doing her job?" "Yeah," gasped Pound, trembling from head to hoof. "E-Everything's okay." He grabbed a pan of muffins and handed it to Pinkie, who was oblivious to his panic. "Pinkie, would you mind asking Pumpkin if she'll get the food for a little bit? I've got to go do something important." As soon as her pink head bobbed up and down, Pound disappeared out the doors and flew as fast as he could down the streets, stopping beneath a tall tree to catch his breath. He sank down, every bit of him shaking, and allowed himself to cry. Chapter 2"Gyaaahhh!" Pound Cake bolted upright in his bed, chest heaving. Pinkie Pie was rubbing his back and whispering soothing words to him. As his eyes adjusted to his dark bedroom, he saw that her blue eyes were worried and her brow was wrinkled. "Hi, Pinkie," he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. As his heart rate slowed down, he fell back onto his pillow, eyes wide open. He willed his hooves to stop trembling. "It was the dream again, wasn't it?" she asked sadly, touching his forehead with the back of her hoof as if he had a fever. Not trusting himself to answer, he nodded and swallowed hard. "It's not getting better, is it?" she whispered, looking him right in the eye, making it impossible for him to lie. "Your parents think that it is, but . . ." She trailed off. "It's not your fault, Poundy." "Uh-huh," he whispered, burrowing underneath his covers. He closed his eyes for her benefit, attempting to fool her into thinking that he was asleep, but she stayed by his side. "It's almost morning," she whispered, pointing to his clock. Squinting, he could see that it was almost four-thirty. "If you want to, you can come down and help me bake." When he cringed, she shook her head. "Or watch me bake. Your parents say that you need to sleep more often, but it'll only be an hour or so till you get back up—if you even manage to fall back asleep." He yawned and nodded, kicking his sheets off of the bed. "Why were you up in the first place?" he said in a whisper as they passed his sister's bed. "You were screaming," she said, subdued. He blushed and hopped down the stairs silently, avoiding Pinkie's eyes. No matter what he did to curb his nightmares—and worse, the screaming that came with them—he could never do anything to stop them. He found it humiliating that Pinkie had to wake him up and soothe him, like he was a crying baby. Pinkie hummed softly as she stirred chocolate icing. Pound relaxed, falling into a chair and watching her bake as if she didn't have a care in the world. To her, the oven was just a tool needed for baking. It didn't seem to bother her if her tail crept too close to a burner or her hoof practically got shut in the oven. When Celestia's light crept in through the windows of the kitchen, Pound stood up and hovered a couple of inches off the ground. "Pinkie?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her. "Um, I'm going out to fly. If that's okay." "Fine," she said casually, blowing on the cupcakes and barely glancing at him as he flew out of the bakery. That was the thing he loved most about Pinkie—she cared about him, but not enough to follow him everywhere and smother him. Once outside, he didn't skim along the street, smiling at other ponies the way he usually did. He rocketed up off of the earth and flew as fast as he could, over the rooftops and treetops. His heart beat faster than a hummingbird's wings, and when it felt as though it might burst, he slowed down and dipped down a bit. The cool spring air in his lungs loosened a bit of the tension in his wings, allowing him to fly more gracefully. The lack of wind in his ears allowed him to catch snippets of sounds—birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the sound of several mares. Slowing down even more, he allowed himself to slowly lose altitude until he was close enough to make out full sentences. Ignoring his guilt at eavesdropping, he perched himself in the tree and held his breath, staring at the three ponies walking by. "I don't get why you turned down that deal with DJ-P0n3," grumbled the orange pegasus, rolling her eyes. "Instead, you chose to sing weird light rock songs." "DJ-P0n3 is way too old," countered a white unicorn with a long, curly mane. "It's like Granny Smith is a DJ. Besides, I don't want to wreck my voice with electronics. Do you have any idea how lame that would sound?" "No way!" argued the orange pegasus, snorting. "Will y'all stop arguing?" asked the third mare, a yellow earth pony. "Ah want to get to Sugarcube Corner before Pinkie Pie runs out o' cupcakes." At the sound of a familiar name, Pound Cake startled and lost his balance in the tree. Before it occured to him to use wings, he felt himself hit the ground—but it wasn't the ground. It was something much softer than the ground. Slowly, he opened one eye and sought the source of the padding. It took his brain a moment to register the fact that he could see a curly purple mane out of the corner of his eye. When he heard a muffled squeak and felt something twitch beneath him he flailed his hooves violently and leapt several feet away from the thing he had landed on—or, rather, the pony he had landed on. He took in the scene, eyes growing wider. The pretty white pony, the one who had turned down the deal with DJ-P0n3, was lying on the ground, eyes twitching vaugely. A scratch ran down one cheek, and a bruise was already beginning to form around one eye. A small trickle of blood ran down her face, staining her pure white coat. Her friends rushed to her aid, but Pound Cake stood stock still, frozen with the horror of the act he had just committed. I'm sorry, he tried to say. It was an accident. But his vocal cords remained as frozen as the rest of his body, allowing him to only let out a small, pathetic whimper. "Hey!" said the orange pony, leaving her friend's side and stalking close to Pound. "What's the idea? Where'd you even come from?" "I-I . . . ." He fell silent, taking a step away. His brown eyes were locked in her lavender ones, making it almost impossible for him to look away. "She could be really hurt! Don't you know that she's got a concert in a week or so? She's gotta look pretty for her adoring fans! And I don't know about you, but I don't exactly find a black eye attractive." She matched him step for step, her eyes growing more menacing with every word. "Scootaloo, he's just a foal," called out the yellow earth pony, rubbing the white mare's back. Her expression was just as angry as the pegasi's. "Right," grunted Scootaloo, halting her steps. "Sorry," she said, adressing the yellow pony, not Pound. She turned away and knelt down next to the unicorn, sending a parting glare at Pound. The white unicorn shakily sat up, rubbing her forehead. "Guys? Is everypony okay? Where's the—" For a split second, her eyes met Pound's. Then, jerking his head away so that he wouldn't have to get a good look at her injuries, he sprinted away as fast as his short, skinny legs could carry him. He turned at the first corner he saw, not wanting to feel their eyes boring into his back, and collapsed next to a bush, puffing from exertion. "That was stupid," he said aloud, ignoring the strange stare he got from the stallion passing him. His voice was slightly strangled from the enormous lump in his throat. "Beyond stupid," he added, hoping that the words would stop his guilt and soothe his panic. Ponies go to jail for hurting other ponies badly, he thought, growing frantic. Even if you don't mean to hurt them, an injured pony means trouble. He had a vision of himself sitting in a jail cell, his family and Pinkie Pie staring sadly at him through the bars. He heaved himself off of the ground, noticing the stares of the ponies on the sidewalk. He lazily hovered several feet of the ground, slowly moving towards the outskirts of Ponyville. Maybe if I had my cutie mark, I'd screw up less, he thought miserably. Pumpkin never messes up. She's destined to be a baker, just like Mom and Dad. I know that I'll never get my cutie mark in baking, so what else is left? A thought popped into his head, but he shook it off quickly. Nopony got their cutie mark in ruining stuff. Right? Pound rolled his eyes and flew faster, as if he could fly away from the thoughts invading his mind. Growing faster and faster with each pang of horror, he felt the wind blow through his chocolaty brown mane so that it got in his eyes. He wrinkled his nose and squinted, trying to get the hair to stop blocking his vision, but before he could stop— CRACK. Dazed, Pound Cake barely felt himself hit the ground. He was vaguely aware that he had just hit a tree, but the pain didn't come until a split second after his vision cleared. "Aah!" he cried, tears welling up in his eyes. He held one hand to his rump, which was burning with pain, and one hand to his nose, which was bleeding freely down his lips. "Oww," he whimpered, tilting his head back in an attempt to stop the flow. He winced as he tasted the fresh blood. I'm even with the white pony, I guess, he thought wryly, attempting a smile, then wincing as pain shot through his nose. Was there some sort of potion or spell that could make his nose stop bleeding? For once in his life, he wished that he was a unicorn. Pinkie Pie would probably know how to fix it. Sighing, Pound got up and took a few unsteady steps in the direction of Sugarcube Corner. After only a couple of steps, a chill passed over him, as if somepony was watching him. He turned around slowly and sucked in startled breath, terrified. Somehow, he had ended up right next to the Everfree Forest. Like every other foal his age, he had heard the stories about the Everfree Forest and the incidents that had happened there. Everypony knew about the filly who had walked in years ago and never came back. His parents had never let him go anywhere near the forest when they could help it, and even when he was alone, he never came near the forest. The stories that Pinkie had told him about the Everfree Forest were very different from the stories he heard from schoolcolts, though. When she was younger, she had ventured into the Everfree more times than you could count on the hooves of several ponies, and she had come out unscathed. There was the one time that she had stepped into the poison joke, of course, but she had managed to save herself from being unable to talk forever by taking a bubble bath. Though he wasn't always able to tell what she was talking about, he was fairly certain that there was a zebra named Zecora somewhere in there, along with a manticore and a long-forgotten temple. It was where she had defeated Nightmare Moon and became friends with the five other ponies. Simply put, it was a place where ponies found out what they were meant to be, even if they discovered who they were in a fairly dangerous manner. He froze and went back in his brain to scoop up the words he had silently uttered. A place where ponies found out what they were meant to be. The answer was so obvious, he almost slapped himself for not thinking of it earlier, Sniffing a few drops of blood up his nose, he turned around and planted a hoof into the boundaries of the Everfree Forest. He would get his cutie mark and stop hurting other ponies, or he would die trying. Chapter 3Five minutes after Pound Cake set hoof into the Everfree Forest, he began to doubt his choice. His mother and father would be wondering where he was. Pinkie would be wondering where he was. Maybe even Pumpkin would worry that he was dead. Besides, he was starting to get hungry. What was he supposed to eat, poison joke? And where would he sleep? He had been expecting to find his cutie mark within a day, but so far nothing Equestria-shattering had occurred. Besides, the blood was drying on his face and his mother hated it whenever he got his coat dirty. White coats took forever to wash out. Pound sighed and rolled his eyes, turning around and searching for the path that he had begun on. He was startled to see that there were at least twenty different paths, each winding in different directions. He glanced overhead to see if there was any way he could fly out of the forest, but the branches were so tightly wound together that he could barely see any sunlight. "Great," he huffed, plopping down on the ground and tracing circles in the dirt with a shaky hoof. "Horseapples," he grumbled, hoping that cursing would make him feel tougher. "Horseapples. I'm totally lost and nopony has any idea where I am. This was stupid." Then, blushing—talking to himself made him feel stupid, even if there was nopony else around—he hovered a few inches off of the ground and drifted further down the path. Maybe, he thought, This is one of those paths that loops back to the start. It makes sense. I'm sure that by sunset, I'll be back in Sugarcube Corner, just like always. It seemed to Pound Cake that Celestia was lowering the sun at an unnecessarily fast rate. He had spent all day flying around trees and moving so much that his legs and wings ached, and yet he wasn't any closer to home than he was at the beginning of the day. Spending a night in the woods had seemed like it was impossible, but Pound was beginning to see that it was now a very real possibility. "Hello?" he said aloud, as if another pony was having a campout in the woods. "Can somebody help me?" He kept his voice just above a regular speaking voice, terrified that if he spoke any louder, a manticore would come out and tear him limb from limb. He racked his brain for every fact he had ever learned about camping and wildlife. Timber wolves only howl a certain time of year . . . well, that wasn't going to help him much. Most sea monsters are actually very friendly . . . well, there weren't any sea monsters in sight. Wear all the clothes you have and bundle up in blankets if you're lost . . . that was actually useful, but he didn't have any clothes or blankets with him. Whimpering, he curled up in a ball. He flinched when he heard the snapping of a twig. Was that a squirrel or an Ursa Major? A rescuer or a timber wolf? "Hello?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Is anypony out there?" There was silence for a few endless seconds before her heard crackling leaves. Pound's pulse quickened. That was no squirrel. The sound of leaves being stepped on was heavy and rhythmic, accompanied by an odd bouncing noise. What was it? Some odd creature made of rubber? Something that nopony even knew about because everypony who studied it got eaten? "I have a knife!" he lied hoarsely, attempting to shout. It was useless, he knew—no creature in the Everfree spoke Equestrian, obviously. Yet another pause. Pound curled up on the ground and covered his head. Now if it attacked it might rip off his wings, but he'd be able to save his eyes and face. "Poundy?" asked a familiar voice. "You're not supposed to use knives outside of the kitchen. Pound slowly moved his hooves away from his face. "P-Pinkie?" he stuttered, blinking and trying to adjust to the darkness. He could see the faint outline of a pony. "Of course it's me, you silly filly!" giggled Pinkie. Pound felt her hooves wrap him in a hug. He was so relieved that he didn't begin to deal with the logic of the situation for several seconds afterwards. "Silly—huh? Pinkie, I'm not a filly!" There was no answer from the pink pony aside from a giggle. He sighed and moved onto the more important questions. "How'd you know that I was in the Everfree? And how the hay did you find me? I've been walking all over the place." She giggled. "Simple, Poundy—my Pinkie sense! Ear flopple double eye twitch wobbly hoof means that a foal is running away into the Everfree Forest, and I figured it out from there!" She waved a hoof absently, as if this was a completely normal occurence. Pound Cake often argued with the logic of her Pinkie Sense, but he decided that there were more pressing matters. "So if you found your way here, could you find your way back? Like, right now?" Pound asked, growing excited. "I haven't had a bite to eat all day, and I'm really thirsty." "Ooh! I have food and water!" she said brightly—a bit too brightly, in Pound Cake's opinion. He saw a dim outline of Pinkie rummaging in her saddlebags and pulling out a cupcake and some water. "Here! I'm sure you'll feel a lot better after this. I brought a whole batch of cupcakes! They're a new recipe!" "Um, thanks," said Pound suspiciously, inhaling the cupcake and gulping down the water. It hadn't gone unnoticed that she hadn't answered his question. "So, Pinkie, about finding our way back tonight—" She groaned suddenly, facehoofing. "I won't be able to find our way back, tonight or tomorrow or a million years from now!" She paused to consider something. "Actually, I don't know if I'll be able to find my way back a million years from now, because I won't be alive then and maybe there'll be advances in pony technology that can find lost ponies. Well, no, there will—" "Pinkie!" shouted Pound Cake, losing patience. He was growing colder and he could use another cupcake, not that he wanted to break Pinkie's concentration even more than it had already broken. "Right. Sorry." She started talking even faster than usual. "See, my Pinkie Sense helped me find you, but it appears to have worn off. My Pinkie Sense doesn't help me navigate new territories. I'm no more useful in getting out of this mess than you are." "Oh." Oh. It took several moments for Pound to comprehend what Pinkie was saying. When he was pretty sure he got it, his hooves began to shake. He sat down, feeling all the blood rush from his head. "So, you're saying that . . . that . . . we might be lost forever? Is that it?" Thought Pound Cake couldn't make out Pinkie's expression completely, he was pretty sure that she was uneasy. "Not forever, Poundy. I'm sure that we'll be able to find our way out of this forest in . . . a few days? A week or two?" She shrugged. "I tell you, Poundy, I know this forest like t he back of my hoof. Or at least I used to. It's changed in the last few years, and I haven't gone into the forest since a few years after you were born. I started having more responsibilities then." "But we can't live on cupcakes and whatever water you have in there for two weeks!" cried Pound Cake, feeling his stomach twist. "And Mom and Dad and Pumpkin must be going crazy with worry." Pinkie waved a hoof. "Oh, don't worry—I left them a note telling them where we were going to be for a while." Pound blinked. "But, Pinkie, the point is that we're in the Everfree Forest. Knowing where we are might actually make them a lot more panicked." For a moment, Pinkie looked desperately sad. "Well, of course they're going to be panicked, but what was I supposed to do? Just leave you in here? I figured that you must be terrified, and it's always better to have a partner when you're lost in the woods. The more, the merrier!" She stuck her nose in her saddlebags again and pulled out a blanket. "Now come on, Poundy, you must be exhausted. You sleep, and I'll stand guard." Pound tried to argue, but he found that he was incredibly tired. He curled up on the ground and let Pinkie spread the blanket over him. For a moment, he was reminded of being a tiny foal, when Pinkie would tuck him in every night. After several minutes, he was asleep. Pound Cake's first thought when he woke up was that ever inch of him ached. His second thought was that he was in the Everfree Forest, and that there was no hope of him escaping any time soon. Wincing, he forced himself to get up. He feebly flapped his wings, which could barely move due to their near-constant use yesterday. No fast flying today. He glanced around for Pinkie Pie—she may not have been much, but she was the only other pony with him—and found her curled up next to her saddlebags, softly snoring. So much for being a guardpony. "Pinkie?" he asked, rummaging around in her saddlebags for water. He took a swig from the bottle as she grunted and looked around, her eyes bleary. "Poundy? That you?" she asked. She ran a mane through her tangled mane, which quickly popped back into its usual curly state. "We still in the Everfree?" "Yeah," he said, the hopelessness of it all sinking in. "I was hoping that, you know, maybe we could start trying to find our way home?" She yawned and stretched. "Sure, sounds good. How'd you get to this little clearing?" Pound froze. His head drooped miserably. "I-I forget," he whimpered sadly. "Sorry." "It'll be more of an adventure this way!" said Pinkie, grabbing a couple of cupcakes and shoving them both into her mouth at once. Pound stared at her in disbelief before turning away and walking towards the closest trail possible. "I can't believe I did this," he grumbled, talking more to himself than Pinkie Pie. Pinkie, of course, chose to give her two cents. "Why did you do it, Poundy?" she asked cheerfully, bouncing along beside him. "I wanted to get my cutie mark," he mumbled, lowering his head in shame. "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea." He hesitated. "Well, actually . . . the thing is, I kind of really badly hurt another pony yesterday. And I thought that, you know, maybe if I got my cutie mark, I'd stop hurting other ponies. I-I know it's stupid and all, but . . ." Pinkie stopped dead in her tracks. "Well, that's silly," she commented, cocking her head. "I'm just the same as I was before I got my cutie mark! Except now that I know what my special talent is, I know that I'm meant to make ponies happy instead of working on the rock farm!" "But that's what I mean," continued Pound Cake, wondering why he was continuing the conversation. "You were just working on the rock farm, and then you found a way to make other ponies' lives happy. I want to do something like that." "You make me happy," Pinkie said, flashing a bright smile at him. "That doesn't count," he said, turning away. Anger bubbled up inside of him—anger at himself, anger at Pinkie's insistence on making him happy, anger at their inability to escape the forest. She giggled uncertainly. "Come on, Poundy. There's no need to get angry, right? We've got to stick together, or else we'll both be lost! At least now, we're lost together, right?" Pound Cake felt heat rise to his cheeks. He fought down his anger at Pinkie and nodded briefly. "Okay, so where do you think we should—" The snapping of a few sticks, followed by a cry of pain, alerted him to the fact that there was somepony—or something—else in the forest with him and Pinkie. He felt his heart begin to beat faster. "Pinkie?" he asked hesitantly. "Did you just hear that?" She giggled and smiled. "Of course I did! But remember what I always tell you: giggle at the ghosties! They're not scary if you think that they're funny!" She took a deep breath and began to sing in her high-pitched, bubbly voice. "When I was a little filly, and the sun was going do-o-ow-ownnnn . . ." Something large and heavy struck Pound Cake as he took an angry step towards Pinkie. He felt warm breath in his ear, a groan, and . . . Nothing. Chapter 4The first thing Pound Cake heard when he managed to clear his mind was laughter. The thing that had landed on him had rolled off, and when Pound sat up, he saw a dazed-looking orange pegasus and Pinkie Pie doubled over in laughter. "Pinkie?" groaned the orange pegasus, shaking her head and looking up. Her eyes went from confused to exhilarated. "It is you! We thought that you heard your voice!" "Hi, Scootaloo!" said Pinkie brightly, smiling and holding up a hoof to shake. "What?" asked Pound Cake, forcing himself up off the ground. His joints, which still ached from yesterday's hike, now had the fresh pain of a grown mare landing on him. "Who is that pony?" She looked vauguely familiar, but his brain was too muddled to remember where he had ever seen her. The orange pony—Scootaloo, was it?—looked right at him for the first time. "Hey, sorry about the whole thing where I landed on you. I thought you might be a—" Her jaw dropped. "Holy—are you—" She turned her head towards the trees that she had leapt out of. "Sweetie Belle! Applebloom! Come over here!" A yellow earth pony and a white unicorn stepped out of the thick undergrowth. Now it was Pound's turn to look shocked. "You're the pony that I landed on!" he spluttered, pointing a hoof at the unicorn. He stared at her with wide eyes, taking a step backwards. Luckily, she didn't look too injured, but Scootaloo looked ready to kill him. The yellow pony snorted with laughter, something that Pound felt was extremely tactless in this situation. "Well, ah guess we can't hold a grudge against you now, not with Scootaloo leapin' on top o' you an' nearly knockin' you out!" She adjusted the bow in her tangled red hair. "Ah'm Applebloom, by the way." She nudged the white unicorn. The unicorn stepped forward. "Um, hi!" she said shyly, smiling . "My name's Sweetie Belle." "Hi," mumbled Pound Cake, keeping his shoulders hunched. "Um, I'm really sorry about landing on you yesterday. I, um, I wasn't really looking where I was going. I didn't mean to." Sweetie Belle waved a hoof. "Aw, it's no big deal! Yesterday we went to Zecora's to get a potion that would fix my black eye, so now I've just got a few scratches that'll heal up in a couple of days. Maybe we could go to Zecora's to fix up those scrapes that Scootaloo gave you!" Scootaloo gave her a disbelieving look. "Um, Sweetie Belle, hello? We're totally lost! It's not like we can just waltz back to Zecora's and find our way out of the Everfree!" "Oh. Right." Sweetie Belle blushed and hung her head. "I kinda forgot." "I haven't been able to forget," grumbled Scootaloo. "Not with dirt covering every inch of my fur and my mane in tangles!" "At least you don't have a concert in a week!" retorted Sweetie Belle, putting a hoof up to her curly mane and bringing a few strands of it down to eye level. "My stylist will have an aneurysm when she sees my scrapes and my mane!" "Yer assuming that we'll be outta here in a week," said Applebloom grimly. "Ah'm just not sure." "You're lost, too?" asked Pound Cake, the last bit of hope disappearing. "So I guess you won't be able to tell us the way out of here, huh?" "Nope," said Applebloom sadly, shaking her head. "Ah'm guessin' you won't be able to do the same for us, then." There was a moment of grim silence in which the three young mares and Pound Cake looked miserably around them. Then Pinkie, who had been unusually quiet, spoke up. "It's not that bad!" she said brightly, leaping to her hooves and bouncing around them as she spoke. "I've got cupcakes and plenty of water! And as long as we can find Zecora's hut, I'm sure that we'll be able to find our way back to home in under a week! Besides, we've got one another—strength in numbers, that's what Granny Pie always said! Each of us has got our own talents and weaknesses, so we'll be able to help each other out! TEAMWORK!!" Pound Cake blinked, eyes wide open. Applebloom attempted to smile, while Sweetie Belle stood there with a mildly confused look on her face. Scootaloo, meanwhile, pretended to gag on something. "Gross! I don't want some namby-pamby lecture on how to help one another—I want to get out of this creepy forest!" she said, rolling her eyes. She turned away and started hiking towards a path. Several hoofsteps away, she turned around with a sheepish look on her face. She found the four ponies with similar flat, disapproving looks on their faces. With a weak smile, she nodded and said, "But, you know . . . teamwork's cool, too." Pinkie was the only one who seemed to notice that Pound wasn't eagerly dashing off with the three mares. After several bouncy steps with the three ponies, she looked behind her and found Pound Cake sitting nervously on the forest ground. "Huh? What's wrong, Poundy?" she asked, drawing her eyebrows together. "I'm scared," he whispered, making sure that Applebloom and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were far ahead of them. So far, they hadn't seemed to notice that he was far behind. "Of what?" she asked, taking a step closer to him and nuzzling the top of his head. "You know that there's really nothing to be scared of in the Everfree forest, right?" "I'm not scared of that, exactly," he whispered. For maybe one in her life, Pinkie didn't attempt to fill up the silence. "I'm scared . . . well, I'm afraid that . . . what if I hurt one of those ponies again?" he burst out. "What if I rip a feather out of Scootaloo's wings, or what if I hurt Sweetie's horn . . ." His voice cracked, making it difficult for him to finish the sentence without bursting into tears. The mention of an injured horn had brought memories flooding back into his head. The horror of being lost in a forest had built a dam against the memories of the accident, but a one word broke the dam and sent everything flying back into his head. Blood everywhere . . . A silvery residue, sizzling on the stove . . . Screams filling the air, screams so loud and grief-stricken that you can practically taste them . . . The cake on the stove burning and flling the kitchen with smoke . . . A handicapped sister for life . . . "Poundy?" asked Pinkie Pie, shaking him out of his thoughts. She seemed to sense that he had slipped back into the past. "They're getting pretty far ahead. Maybe we should catch up, huh?" "Yeah," said Pound Cake, giving her a smile that felt as though it was made of wood. He took a few heavy steps. "Come on, Poundy; I want a real smile!" She pounced on him and held him down, tickling his stomach and his hooves and—the most sensitive part of his body—right underneath his wings. "No!" he shouted through giggles, falling into peals of laughter again. He forced some strength into his ticklish wings and rocketed high above her head. "Come back here, you cheater!" she shouted, giggling and racing after him. In the air, Pound Cake found that he was still smiling. He lifted a hoof to his cheeks and felt the round balls of skin created by his smile. Feeling ready to speak normally again, he swooped down next to the three mares and slowed his flight to match their steps. "So, where are we going?" he asked, smiling shyly. Pinkie was just managing to catch up, and he never quite managed to feel comfortable in a social situation without Pinkie Pie at his side. "Ah have no idea," huffed Applebloom, sighing and setting her jaw in a frustrated manner. "Ah think we should head along one of these paths and look for familiar landforms. Then we'll either be able to find our way outta these here woods or find our way to Zecora's hut." "Zecora . . . she's that zebra, right?" asked Pound. "Pinkie's told me a lot about her. They used to talk a lot back when Pinkie was younger." "Yeah, Miss Zecora's gettin' up there in age," sighed Applebloom. "She don't get out much these days, but she greets visitors real warmly. Ah hope that we manage to find her hut soon so that you two can meet—ah've got a feelin' that you two'll get along like two peas in a pod." "I hope we get to her hut soon so that I can get inside a real house," grumbled Scootaloo. "I don't think that I'm ever gonna be able to go camping again." Sweetie Belle giggled. "Remember that time we thought we could get our cutie marks in wilderness survival, so we tried to stay in Applebloom's backyard for a night?" "Ah seem to recall that we got scared by a timber wolf and ended up in my house by 10:00," laughed Applebloom, grinning at her two friends. "And remember that time you came to Sugarcube Corner and tried to help me make cupcakes, but you started a really-really-really-really humungous fire and accidentally burned off Scootaloo's mane?" Scootaloo blushed. "The fire wasn't that big," she muttered. "And you make it sound like they burned off my whole mane." Sweetie Belle giggled, nudging Scootaloo. "It took, like, seven months for it to look normal again!" "Aww, cut it out, you guys," groaned Scootaloo, rolling her eyes. "I think that we should work on finding our way out of the woods before we start telling stories about us as fillies!" "You guys seemed kind of obsessed with getting your cutie marks," commented Pound Cake, flying a bit higher to avoid a large rock sticking out of the path. "We were the Cutie Mark Crusaders!" exclaimed Sweetie Belle, looking at him as though everypony knew that. "Of course we were obsessed with getting our cutie marks." "Uh, Sweetie Belle, he wasn't alive for the age of the CMC," said Applebloom, raising an eyebrow. "He was probably only a year or two old when we got our cutie marks." For the first time, Pound glanced at their flanks. Blushing (he always felt uncomfortable staring at a cutie mark too long), he quickly flicked his eyes over their flanks. Applebloom's flank held a paintbrush and a hammer crossing over to form an X, Sweetie Belle's displayed two eighth notes the color of her mane, and Scootaloo's bore a flaming magenta tire. "How'd you get them?" he asked. "Well, we put on this awesome show for our school's, like, hundredth annual talent show," Sweetie Belle began. "Applebloom did scenery and costumes, Sweetie did the singing, and I did a truly awesome dance routine involving my scooter," jumped in Scootaloo, smiling in a way that told Pound Cake that she was bragging just the tiniest amount. "And when Sweetie Belle hit her last magnificent note, these appeared on our flanks!" finished Applebloom grandly. "Wow," said Pound Cake, and he really meant it. That was possibly the best way to get your cutie mark—surrounded by your good friends. You don't even have friends, his mind pointed out. He brushed that thought away and focused on flying, feeling rather self-conscious of the lack of a cutie mark on his flank. Applebloom seemed to sense what was on his mind, and she jumped in with a question. "Do you have any idea what yer cutie mark might be?" she asked kindly. "Uh, not really," he said. "My sister got her cutie mark a little less than a year ago, so I'll probably get mine sooner or later." "Don't let your friends sucker you into doing crazy stunts," Sweetie Belle advised him, looking pointedly at Scootaloo. The orange pegasi's jaw dropped open. "How was I supposed to know that our special talent wasn't in ziplining?" she protested. "Common sense?" suggested Sweetie Belle. The two of them giggled with each other, but Applebloom looked serious. "Don't ya . . . don't ya ever feel upset about not having your mark?" she asked carefully, rubbing a hoof up and down her foreleg uncertainly. "Not often," he said, shrugging. The part of my mind filled with bad feelings is reserved for other things, he thought, not daring to speak the words on his mind aloud. Applebloom shrugged and looked off to the side thoughtfully. "Do ya want us to teach you how to get your cutie mark?" she asked after a few moments of pondering. "It's not a thing than can be taught, is it?" said Pound. "Well, if you really want to get your cutie mark—" "Okay!" Pinkie Pie broke in, clapping her hooves together. "Well, we've been walking for a bit, and I don't think we should run out of energy. Water and cupcake break!" The Crusaders excitedly gathered around Pinkie's saddlebags for nourishment, and the subject of cutie marks seemed to be gone. Pound ate his cupcake without tasting it. It seemed like Pinkie had wanted to stop the topic of cutie marks. Why? Was she afraid that Pound Cake would feel insecure? Pound wished that everypony would stop making such a big deal about cutie marks. It would happen when it happened, and there was nothing he could do to make it come faster. He wasn't willing to zipline just to fit in with his classmates. "We'd better get going," said Scootaloo, taking a final gulp of water and screwing the cap of the canteen back on. "Right," said Pound, nodding vigorously. He had no plans of sleeping in the woods again that night. Placing his water back into Pinkie's saddlebags, he hovered a few feet off of the ground towards Scootaloo. Scootaloo's reaction to the foal flying was astonishing. She spewed out the mouthful of water, took a step backwards, and let her eyes widen as her cheeks turned the color of overripe beets. "Y-You can fly?" she asked, looking as though Pound Cake had deeply offended her. "Yes?" said Pound Cake hesitantly, dropping to the ground. "I've been able to do it for a really long time . . ." Scootaloo pressed her lips together, turned around, and stomped along the path. "Don' mind her," said Applebloom, shrugging. "She gets like that sometimes." She herded Pound a few yards away from Pinkie and dropped her tone to a whisper. "Listen, Pound," she said, "If ya ever want me to help you get yer cutie mark . . . well, let's say ah've got a few tricks." Pound Cake felt weak as he walked down the path. Scootaloo hated him for flying, he was the whole reason that they were all lost in the woods, and Applebloom seemed intent on making sure he got his cutie mark. What had he gotten himself into?
Chapter 1Pound Cake didn't need to see the sun to tell that it was morning. He had his own personal alarm clock: the smell of cupcakes baking. Grinning, he leapt out of his bed and ran downstairs, ignoring his twin sister's grumbles. He slid into the kitchen on slippery hooves. "Awake already?" asked Pinkie Pie, tossing a batch of pink cupcakes into the oven. "Maybe you can help me make the next batch of cupcakes!" Pound Cake felt a knot grow in his chest, but he forced himself to keep smiling. "Um, no thanks. But I'm okay with watching you do it." He wasn't lying—he loved to watch Pinkie Pie bake. For as long as he could remember, he had always sat in the kitchen, while Pinkie Pie created some crazy new concoction. Pinkie gave him the same worried smile that she had been giving him ever since he stopped baking, but she didn't force anything on him, which he was relieved about. He would never tell his mother and father, of course, but sometimes he felt more comfortable with Pinkie Pie than with them. "Um, anyway, I've been thinking about how I should get my cutie mark," he said quickly. Pinkie's face brightened. He knew that she had been waiting for him to get his cutie mark ever since Pumpkin Cake got hers a year ago, but his parents had obviously told her not to rush it. "I was thinking that, um, maybe I could get my cutie mark in flying or something? I know that it probably won't happen, but . . ." He let his voice trail off. He didn't want to get her hopes up. Since when had he succeeded at anything? "Ooh! That sounds super-fun!" Pinkie's cheery side was back. "How are you going to do it?" Pound fidgeted. "Um, actually, I haven't really figured that part out yet. I figured that, I don't know, fly a really long distance or something. I'm the best flier in my class," he said, trying to make it sound like he wasn't bragging. "Didn't one of your friends get her cutie mark in flying?" "Rainbow Dash did," said Pinkie Pie brightly. "She did a sonic rainboom! Maybe she could teach you!" Pound Cake's shoulders fell. "Right. A sonic rainboom." Rainbow Dash was the only known pony that could do a sonic rainboom, so Pound didn't quite have high expectations. If that was what it took to get a flying cutie mark, he could cross flying off the list as a potential cutie mark. "I don't think that I'll be able to do that." "Saying something's impossible makes it impossible!" said Pinkie Pie brightly, stirring pink frosting at lightning speeds. "My friend Twilight says that it's impossible to farm rocks, but my family sure was able to! We always had a big rock harvest every winter, and Dad just wrote to me telling me how many rocks sprang up out of the ground a weeks or so ago." "Right," said Pound Cake. Most ponies were hesitant to believe Pinkie's stories, but years of living with her had taught him to just accept that she could do anything. "But anyway, Pinkie, I was thinking that maybe I could do something aside from a sonic rainboom. You know, something that's a little bit more . . . reasonable." He took a step towards the door, feeling hopeless even before he had experimented with flight. Pinkie Pie dashed out to block to door of Sugarcube Corner. "You're looking upset again," she warned him. She held up a bag of flour. "I don't have to pour this flour on me, do I, Poundy?" He smiled in spite of himself. According to Pinkie Pie, the first time she foalsat him and Pumpkin, they had cried nonstop unless she dumped a bag of flour on herself. (There was also a part of the story where he flew around the room and Pumpkin levitated herself with magic, but he didn't quite believe that part.) "No, Pinkie, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired. And don't call me Poundy." "Here, take this cupcake," she commanded him, shoving a warm cupcake into his mouth. "I'll tell your parents where you are! Be home for breakfast, Poundy!" He didn't bother to correct her about his nickname. "I will," he said, his mouth still full of cupcake. Turning to the door, he fluttered his wings just enough to lift himself off the bakery floor and drifted lazily out the door. Outside, the sun was starting to warm the roads. A few ponies were setting up their businesses, including Pinkie's friend, Applejack. The orange pony waved to him brightly as she poured bushels of apples inside baskets. Blushing, Pound Cake waved back and avoided eye contact. He always felt a bit nervous around Pinkie Pie's friends—they had saved Equestria too many times to count and were personal friends with Princess Celestia! (Although, to be fair, he felt nervous around most ponies, unlike his outgoing twin.) Feeling self-conscious flying around other ponies, Pound Cake veered away from the road and drifted a bit higher, just above the roofs of the houses. Flying always cleared his mind and allowed him to think, which sometimes was good and sometimes was terrible. Terrible was a good word for the thoughts going through his mind now. It's not your fault, he told himself, echoing his parents' words. She forgives you. It's not a big deal. You worry too much. It was an accident. An accident. Why did he always have to cause so many accidents? Who cared if he didn't mean to cause them? He could seriously hurt somepony—and he had hurt somepony. He stopped in midair, allowing himself to hover for a moment before he fell to the ground. Luckily, he wasn't high enough to hurt himself—or somepony else, he thought, the memory invading his mind as usual before he could banish it. Pound Cake lay in his sprawled position on the ground for a few moments, enjoying how it felt to be connected to the earth. Sometimes, when he was flying or even when he was just walking, it felt to him that he wasn't really in Equestria—like somepony had stolen his soul away from him and he was just a body going through the movements. Pound heaved himself off of the ground and slowly plodded back home, where there were distractions from his thoughts. As long as he didn't look directly at his sister. When he got back to Sugarcube Corner, there was already a line of hungry ponies. He gave a quick smile to Pinkie, who was serving the ponies, and headed to the more private section of the bakery, where his parents were frantically stirring up cake batter. "Good, you're here," said his mother, globs of frosting stuck in her normally perfect hair. "Quick, eat your cereal and go bring these treats to Pinkie." She gestured to the many trays of desserts on the bakery's counters. "The ponies are beginning to get anxious, and the last thing we want are unhappy customers. We would do it, of course, but some unicorn in Canterlot ordered a cake that he has to have by the end of today." Pound Cake bolted down his cereal while his mother and father grumbled about how some ponies just couldn't be bothered to tell them in advance. He abandoned his half-eaten cereal, growing tired of hearing his parents talk about business. He grabbed a tray of cookies, careful not to get too near to the oven, and pranced away. "Hey Pinkie, I've got more—" He froze when he saw a flash of an orange mane. He tried to put down the cookies at Pinkie's hooves and slink away, but she spotted him before he could disappear. "Poundy!" squealed Pinkie Pie, wildly waving a hoof. Everypony in the bakery turned to Pound Cake, who was blushing furiously and attempting to slowly back away without anypony noticing. She scooped him up with one hoof. "Are you going to help me serve these hungry ponies today, or are you busy helping your mom and dad in the kitchen?" "Um, actually, I'm supposed to bring the treats to you," stammered Pound Cake. He was still trying to escape the room. He couldn't be in a room with her. "You sure? Don't you want to serve ponies like your sister?" asked Pinkie Pie. With the hoof that wasn't holding Pound Cake, she scooped up Pumpkin Cake and dangled them in front of each other. It was just as bad as Pound remembered it. The streaks of black and pink across her yellow face. Her horn chipped like a Changeling. He struggled to escape Pinkie's hoof, struggled to escape the staring ponies, struggled to escape the memories that were attacking him . . . Laughing siblings. One misplaced hoof, and a filly's life changes forever. One second the air's filled with sugar and laughter, the next second it's filled with screams. And all you do is stand there and— "Will you hurry up?" complained a stallion in the middle of the line. "I want my cupcakes already!" "Yeah," shouted a gray pegasus. "I could be eating a dozen muffins by now!" Pound managed to escape the powerful grasp of Pinkie Pie and sprinted back to the kitchen, trying to breathe. "What took you so long?" asked his father, looking even more stressed than his mother. "It sounds like there's some sort of mob going on out there! Is Pinkie doing her job?" "Yeah," gasped Pound, trembling from head to hoof. "E-Everything's okay." He grabbed a pan of muffins and handed it to Pinkie, who was oblivious to his panic. "Pinkie, would you mind asking Pumpkin if she'll get the food for a little bit? I've got to go do something important." As soon as her pink head bobbed up and down, Pound disappeared out the doors and flew as fast as he could down the streets, stopping beneath a tall tree to catch his breath. He sank down, every bit of him shaking, and allowed himself to cry.
Chapter 2"Gyaaahhh!" Pound Cake bolted upright in his bed, chest heaving. Pinkie Pie was rubbing his back and whispering soothing words to him. As his eyes adjusted to his dark bedroom, he saw that her blue eyes were worried and her brow was wrinkled. "Hi, Pinkie," he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. As his heart rate slowed down, he fell back onto his pillow, eyes wide open. He willed his hooves to stop trembling. "It was the dream again, wasn't it?" she asked sadly, touching his forehead with the back of her hoof as if he had a fever. Not trusting himself to answer, he nodded and swallowed hard. "It's not getting better, is it?" she whispered, looking him right in the eye, making it impossible for him to lie. "Your parents think that it is, but . . ." She trailed off. "It's not your fault, Poundy." "Uh-huh," he whispered, burrowing underneath his covers. He closed his eyes for her benefit, attempting to fool her into thinking that he was asleep, but she stayed by his side. "It's almost morning," she whispered, pointing to his clock. Squinting, he could see that it was almost four-thirty. "If you want to, you can come down and help me bake." When he cringed, she shook her head. "Or watch me bake. Your parents say that you need to sleep more often, but it'll only be an hour or so till you get back up—if you even manage to fall back asleep." He yawned and nodded, kicking his sheets off of the bed. "Why were you up in the first place?" he said in a whisper as they passed his sister's bed. "You were screaming," she said, subdued. He blushed and hopped down the stairs silently, avoiding Pinkie's eyes. No matter what he did to curb his nightmares—and worse, the screaming that came with them—he could never do anything to stop them. He found it humiliating that Pinkie had to wake him up and soothe him, like he was a crying baby. Pinkie hummed softly as she stirred chocolate icing. Pound relaxed, falling into a chair and watching her bake as if she didn't have a care in the world. To her, the oven was just a tool needed for baking. It didn't seem to bother her if her tail crept too close to a burner or her hoof practically got shut in the oven. When Celestia's light crept in through the windows of the kitchen, Pound stood up and hovered a couple of inches off the ground. "Pinkie?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her. "Um, I'm going out to fly. If that's okay." "Fine," she said casually, blowing on the cupcakes and barely glancing at him as he flew out of the bakery. That was the thing he loved most about Pinkie—she cared about him, but not enough to follow him everywhere and smother him. Once outside, he didn't skim along the street, smiling at other ponies the way he usually did. He rocketed up off of the earth and flew as fast as he could, over the rooftops and treetops. His heart beat faster than a hummingbird's wings, and when it felt as though it might burst, he slowed down and dipped down a bit. The cool spring air in his lungs loosened a bit of the tension in his wings, allowing him to fly more gracefully. The lack of wind in his ears allowed him to catch snippets of sounds—birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the sound of several mares. Slowing down even more, he allowed himself to slowly lose altitude until he was close enough to make out full sentences. Ignoring his guilt at eavesdropping, he perched himself in the tree and held his breath, staring at the three ponies walking by. "I don't get why you turned down that deal with DJ-P0n3," grumbled the orange pegasus, rolling her eyes. "Instead, you chose to sing weird light rock songs." "DJ-P0n3 is way too old," countered a white unicorn with a long, curly mane. "It's like Granny Smith is a DJ. Besides, I don't want to wreck my voice with electronics. Do you have any idea how lame that would sound?" "No way!" argued the orange pegasus, snorting. "Will y'all stop arguing?" asked the third mare, a yellow earth pony. "Ah want to get to Sugarcube Corner before Pinkie Pie runs out o' cupcakes." At the sound of a familiar name, Pound Cake startled and lost his balance in the tree. Before it occured to him to use wings, he felt himself hit the ground—but it wasn't the ground. It was something much softer than the ground. Slowly, he opened one eye and sought the source of the padding. It took his brain a moment to register the fact that he could see a curly purple mane out of the corner of his eye. When he heard a muffled squeak and felt something twitch beneath him he flailed his hooves violently and leapt several feet away from the thing he had landed on—or, rather, the pony he had landed on. He took in the scene, eyes growing wider. The pretty white pony, the one who had turned down the deal with DJ-P0n3, was lying on the ground, eyes twitching vaugely. A scratch ran down one cheek, and a bruise was already beginning to form around one eye. A small trickle of blood ran down her face, staining her pure white coat. Her friends rushed to her aid, but Pound Cake stood stock still, frozen with the horror of the act he had just committed. I'm sorry, he tried to say. It was an accident. But his vocal cords remained as frozen as the rest of his body, allowing him to only let out a small, pathetic whimper. "Hey!" said the orange pony, leaving her friend's side and stalking close to Pound. "What's the idea? Where'd you even come from?" "I-I . . . ." He fell silent, taking a step away. His brown eyes were locked in her lavender ones, making it almost impossible for him to look away. "She could be really hurt! Don't you know that she's got a concert in a week or so? She's gotta look pretty for her adoring fans! And I don't know about you, but I don't exactly find a black eye attractive." She matched him step for step, her eyes growing more menacing with every word. "Scootaloo, he's just a foal," called out the yellow earth pony, rubbing the white mare's back. Her expression was just as angry as the pegasi's. "Right," grunted Scootaloo, halting her steps. "Sorry," she said, adressing the yellow pony, not Pound. She turned away and knelt down next to the unicorn, sending a parting glare at Pound. The white unicorn shakily sat up, rubbing her forehead. "Guys? Is everypony okay? Where's the—" For a split second, her eyes met Pound's. Then, jerking his head away so that he wouldn't have to get a good look at her injuries, he sprinted away as fast as his short, skinny legs could carry him. He turned at the first corner he saw, not wanting to feel their eyes boring into his back, and collapsed next to a bush, puffing from exertion. "That was stupid," he said aloud, ignoring the strange stare he got from the stallion passing him. His voice was slightly strangled from the enormous lump in his throat. "Beyond stupid," he added, hoping that the words would stop his guilt and soothe his panic. Ponies go to jail for hurting other ponies badly, he thought, growing frantic. Even if you don't mean to hurt them, an injured pony means trouble. He had a vision of himself sitting in a jail cell, his family and Pinkie Pie staring sadly at him through the bars. He heaved himself off of the ground, noticing the stares of the ponies on the sidewalk. He lazily hovered several feet of the ground, slowly moving towards the outskirts of Ponyville. Maybe if I had my cutie mark, I'd screw up less, he thought miserably. Pumpkin never messes up. She's destined to be a baker, just like Mom and Dad. I know that I'll never get my cutie mark in baking, so what else is left? A thought popped into his head, but he shook it off quickly. Nopony got their cutie mark in ruining stuff. Right? Pound rolled his eyes and flew faster, as if he could fly away from the thoughts invading his mind. Growing faster and faster with each pang of horror, he felt the wind blow through his chocolaty brown mane so that it got in his eyes. He wrinkled his nose and squinted, trying to get the hair to stop blocking his vision, but before he could stop— CRACK. Dazed, Pound Cake barely felt himself hit the ground. He was vaguely aware that he had just hit a tree, but the pain didn't come until a split second after his vision cleared. "Aah!" he cried, tears welling up in his eyes. He held one hand to his rump, which was burning with pain, and one hand to his nose, which was bleeding freely down his lips. "Oww," he whimpered, tilting his head back in an attempt to stop the flow. He winced as he tasted the fresh blood. I'm even with the white pony, I guess, he thought wryly, attempting a smile, then wincing as pain shot through his nose. Was there some sort of potion or spell that could make his nose stop bleeding? For once in his life, he wished that he was a unicorn. Pinkie Pie would probably know how to fix it. Sighing, Pound got up and took a few unsteady steps in the direction of Sugarcube Corner. After only a couple of steps, a chill passed over him, as if somepony was watching him. He turned around slowly and sucked in startled breath, terrified. Somehow, he had ended up right next to the Everfree Forest. Like every other foal his age, he had heard the stories about the Everfree Forest and the incidents that had happened there. Everypony knew about the filly who had walked in years ago and never came back. His parents had never let him go anywhere near the forest when they could help it, and even when he was alone, he never came near the forest. The stories that Pinkie had told him about the Everfree Forest were very different from the stories he heard from schoolcolts, though. When she was younger, she had ventured into the Everfree more times than you could count on the hooves of several ponies, and she had come out unscathed. There was the one time that she had stepped into the poison joke, of course, but she had managed to save herself from being unable to talk forever by taking a bubble bath. Though he wasn't always able to tell what she was talking about, he was fairly certain that there was a zebra named Zecora somewhere in there, along with a manticore and a long-forgotten temple. It was where she had defeated Nightmare Moon and became friends with the five other ponies. Simply put, it was a place where ponies found out what they were meant to be, even if they discovered who they were in a fairly dangerous manner. He froze and went back in his brain to scoop up the words he had silently uttered. A place where ponies found out what they were meant to be. The answer was so obvious, he almost slapped himself for not thinking of it earlier, Sniffing a few drops of blood up his nose, he turned around and planted a hoof into the boundaries of the Everfree Forest. He would get his cutie mark and stop hurting other ponies, or he would die trying.
Chapter 3Five minutes after Pound Cake set hoof into the Everfree Forest, he began to doubt his choice. His mother and father would be wondering where he was. Pinkie would be wondering where he was. Maybe even Pumpkin would worry that he was dead. Besides, he was starting to get hungry. What was he supposed to eat, poison joke? And where would he sleep? He had been expecting to find his cutie mark within a day, but so far nothing Equestria-shattering had occurred. Besides, the blood was drying on his face and his mother hated it whenever he got his coat dirty. White coats took forever to wash out. Pound sighed and rolled his eyes, turning around and searching for the path that he had begun on. He was startled to see that there were at least twenty different paths, each winding in different directions. He glanced overhead to see if there was any way he could fly out of the forest, but the branches were so tightly wound together that he could barely see any sunlight. "Great," he huffed, plopping down on the ground and tracing circles in the dirt with a shaky hoof. "Horseapples," he grumbled, hoping that cursing would make him feel tougher. "Horseapples. I'm totally lost and nopony has any idea where I am. This was stupid." Then, blushing—talking to himself made him feel stupid, even if there was nopony else around—he hovered a few inches off of the ground and drifted further down the path. Maybe, he thought, This is one of those paths that loops back to the start. It makes sense. I'm sure that by sunset, I'll be back in Sugarcube Corner, just like always. It seemed to Pound Cake that Celestia was lowering the sun at an unnecessarily fast rate. He had spent all day flying around trees and moving so much that his legs and wings ached, and yet he wasn't any closer to home than he was at the beginning of the day. Spending a night in the woods had seemed like it was impossible, but Pound was beginning to see that it was now a very real possibility. "Hello?" he said aloud, as if another pony was having a campout in the woods. "Can somebody help me?" He kept his voice just above a regular speaking voice, terrified that if he spoke any louder, a manticore would come out and tear him limb from limb. He racked his brain for every fact he had ever learned about camping and wildlife. Timber wolves only howl a certain time of year . . . well, that wasn't going to help him much. Most sea monsters are actually very friendly . . . well, there weren't any sea monsters in sight. Wear all the clothes you have and bundle up in blankets if you're lost . . . that was actually useful, but he didn't have any clothes or blankets with him. Whimpering, he curled up in a ball. He flinched when he heard the snapping of a twig. Was that a squirrel or an Ursa Major? A rescuer or a timber wolf? "Hello?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Is anypony out there?" There was silence for a few endless seconds before her heard crackling leaves. Pound's pulse quickened. That was no squirrel. The sound of leaves being stepped on was heavy and rhythmic, accompanied by an odd bouncing noise. What was it? Some odd creature made of rubber? Something that nopony even knew about because everypony who studied it got eaten? "I have a knife!" he lied hoarsely, attempting to shout. It was useless, he knew—no creature in the Everfree spoke Equestrian, obviously. Yet another pause. Pound curled up on the ground and covered his head. Now if it attacked it might rip off his wings, but he'd be able to save his eyes and face. "Poundy?" asked a familiar voice. "You're not supposed to use knives outside of the kitchen. Pound slowly moved his hooves away from his face. "P-Pinkie?" he stuttered, blinking and trying to adjust to the darkness. He could see the faint outline of a pony. "Of course it's me, you silly filly!" giggled Pinkie. Pound felt her hooves wrap him in a hug. He was so relieved that he didn't begin to deal with the logic of the situation for several seconds afterwards. "Silly—huh? Pinkie, I'm not a filly!" There was no answer from the pink pony aside from a giggle. He sighed and moved onto the more important questions. "How'd you know that I was in the Everfree? And how the hay did you find me? I've been walking all over the place." She giggled. "Simple, Poundy—my Pinkie sense! Ear flopple double eye twitch wobbly hoof means that a foal is running away into the Everfree Forest, and I figured it out from there!" She waved a hoof absently, as if this was a completely normal occurence. Pound Cake often argued with the logic of her Pinkie Sense, but he decided that there were more pressing matters. "So if you found your way here, could you find your way back? Like, right now?" Pound asked, growing excited. "I haven't had a bite to eat all day, and I'm really thirsty." "Ooh! I have food and water!" she said brightly—a bit too brightly, in Pound Cake's opinion. He saw a dim outline of Pinkie rummaging in her saddlebags and pulling out a cupcake and some water. "Here! I'm sure you'll feel a lot better after this. I brought a whole batch of cupcakes! They're a new recipe!" "Um, thanks," said Pound suspiciously, inhaling the cupcake and gulping down the water. It hadn't gone unnoticed that she hadn't answered his question. "So, Pinkie, about finding our way back tonight—" She groaned suddenly, facehoofing. "I won't be able to find our way back, tonight or tomorrow or a million years from now!" She paused to consider something. "Actually, I don't know if I'll be able to find my way back a million years from now, because I won't be alive then and maybe there'll be advances in pony technology that can find lost ponies. Well, no, there will—" "Pinkie!" shouted Pound Cake, losing patience. He was growing colder and he could use another cupcake, not that he wanted to break Pinkie's concentration even more than it had already broken. "Right. Sorry." She started talking even faster than usual. "See, my Pinkie Sense helped me find you, but it appears to have worn off. My Pinkie Sense doesn't help me navigate new territories. I'm no more useful in getting out of this mess than you are." "Oh." Oh. It took several moments for Pound to comprehend what Pinkie was saying. When he was pretty sure he got it, his hooves began to shake. He sat down, feeling all the blood rush from his head. "So, you're saying that . . . that . . . we might be lost forever? Is that it?" Thought Pound Cake couldn't make out Pinkie's expression completely, he was pretty sure that she was uneasy. "Not forever, Poundy. I'm sure that we'll be able to find our way out of this forest in . . . a few days? A week or two?" She shrugged. "I tell you, Poundy, I know this forest like t he back of my hoof. Or at least I used to. It's changed in the last few years, and I haven't gone into the forest since a few years after you were born. I started having more responsibilities then." "But we can't live on cupcakes and whatever water you have in there for two weeks!" cried Pound Cake, feeling his stomach twist. "And Mom and Dad and Pumpkin must be going crazy with worry." Pinkie waved a hoof. "Oh, don't worry—I left them a note telling them where we were going to be for a while." Pound blinked. "But, Pinkie, the point is that we're in the Everfree Forest. Knowing where we are might actually make them a lot more panicked." For a moment, Pinkie looked desperately sad. "Well, of course they're going to be panicked, but what was I supposed to do? Just leave you in here? I figured that you must be terrified, and it's always better to have a partner when you're lost in the woods. The more, the merrier!" She stuck her nose in her saddlebags again and pulled out a blanket. "Now come on, Poundy, you must be exhausted. You sleep, and I'll stand guard." Pound tried to argue, but he found that he was incredibly tired. He curled up on the ground and let Pinkie spread the blanket over him. For a moment, he was reminded of being a tiny foal, when Pinkie would tuck him in every night. After several minutes, he was asleep. Pound Cake's first thought when he woke up was that ever inch of him ached. His second thought was that he was in the Everfree Forest, and that there was no hope of him escaping any time soon. Wincing, he forced himself to get up. He feebly flapped his wings, which could barely move due to their near-constant use yesterday. No fast flying today. He glanced around for Pinkie Pie—she may not have been much, but she was the only other pony with him—and found her curled up next to her saddlebags, softly snoring. So much for being a guardpony. "Pinkie?" he asked, rummaging around in her saddlebags for water. He took a swig from the bottle as she grunted and looked around, her eyes bleary. "Poundy? That you?" she asked. She ran a mane through her tangled mane, which quickly popped back into its usual curly state. "We still in the Everfree?" "Yeah," he said, the hopelessness of it all sinking in. "I was hoping that, you know, maybe we could start trying to find our way home?" She yawned and stretched. "Sure, sounds good. How'd you get to this little clearing?" Pound froze. His head drooped miserably. "I-I forget," he whimpered sadly. "Sorry." "It'll be more of an adventure this way!" said Pinkie, grabbing a couple of cupcakes and shoving them both into her mouth at once. Pound stared at her in disbelief before turning away and walking towards the closest trail possible. "I can't believe I did this," he grumbled, talking more to himself than Pinkie Pie. Pinkie, of course, chose to give her two cents. "Why did you do it, Poundy?" she asked cheerfully, bouncing along beside him. "I wanted to get my cutie mark," he mumbled, lowering his head in shame. "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea." He hesitated. "Well, actually . . . the thing is, I kind of really badly hurt another pony yesterday. And I thought that, you know, maybe if I got my cutie mark, I'd stop hurting other ponies. I-I know it's stupid and all, but . . ." Pinkie stopped dead in her tracks. "Well, that's silly," she commented, cocking her head. "I'm just the same as I was before I got my cutie mark! Except now that I know what my special talent is, I know that I'm meant to make ponies happy instead of working on the rock farm!" "But that's what I mean," continued Pound Cake, wondering why he was continuing the conversation. "You were just working on the rock farm, and then you found a way to make other ponies' lives happy. I want to do something like that." "You make me happy," Pinkie said, flashing a bright smile at him. "That doesn't count," he said, turning away. Anger bubbled up inside of him—anger at himself, anger at Pinkie's insistence on making him happy, anger at their inability to escape the forest. She giggled uncertainly. "Come on, Poundy. There's no need to get angry, right? We've got to stick together, or else we'll both be lost! At least now, we're lost together, right?" Pound Cake felt heat rise to his cheeks. He fought down his anger at Pinkie and nodded briefly. "Okay, so where do you think we should—" The snapping of a few sticks, followed by a cry of pain, alerted him to the fact that there was somepony—or something—else in the forest with him and Pinkie. He felt his heart begin to beat faster. "Pinkie?" he asked hesitantly. "Did you just hear that?" She giggled and smiled. "Of course I did! But remember what I always tell you: giggle at the ghosties! They're not scary if you think that they're funny!" She took a deep breath and began to sing in her high-pitched, bubbly voice. "When I was a little filly, and the sun was going do-o-ow-ownnnn . . ." Something large and heavy struck Pound Cake as he took an angry step towards Pinkie. He felt warm breath in his ear, a groan, and . . . Nothing.
Chapter 4The first thing Pound Cake heard when he managed to clear his mind was laughter. The thing that had landed on him had rolled off, and when Pound sat up, he saw a dazed-looking orange pegasus and Pinkie Pie doubled over in laughter. "Pinkie?" groaned the orange pegasus, shaking her head and looking up. Her eyes went from confused to exhilarated. "It is you! We thought that you heard your voice!" "Hi, Scootaloo!" said Pinkie brightly, smiling and holding up a hoof to shake. "What?" asked Pound Cake, forcing himself up off the ground. His joints, which still ached from yesterday's hike, now had the fresh pain of a grown mare landing on him. "Who is that pony?" She looked vauguely familiar, but his brain was too muddled to remember where he had ever seen her. The orange pony—Scootaloo, was it?—looked right at him for the first time. "Hey, sorry about the whole thing where I landed on you. I thought you might be a—" Her jaw dropped. "Holy—are you—" She turned her head towards the trees that she had leapt out of. "Sweetie Belle! Applebloom! Come over here!" A yellow earth pony and a white unicorn stepped out of the thick undergrowth. Now it was Pound's turn to look shocked. "You're the pony that I landed on!" he spluttered, pointing a hoof at the unicorn. He stared at her with wide eyes, taking a step backwards. Luckily, she didn't look too injured, but Scootaloo looked ready to kill him. The yellow pony snorted with laughter, something that Pound felt was extremely tactless in this situation. "Well, ah guess we can't hold a grudge against you now, not with Scootaloo leapin' on top o' you an' nearly knockin' you out!" She adjusted the bow in her tangled red hair. "Ah'm Applebloom, by the way." She nudged the white unicorn. The unicorn stepped forward. "Um, hi!" she said shyly, smiling . "My name's Sweetie Belle." "Hi," mumbled Pound Cake, keeping his shoulders hunched. "Um, I'm really sorry about landing on you yesterday. I, um, I wasn't really looking where I was going. I didn't mean to." Sweetie Belle waved a hoof. "Aw, it's no big deal! Yesterday we went to Zecora's to get a potion that would fix my black eye, so now I've just got a few scratches that'll heal up in a couple of days. Maybe we could go to Zecora's to fix up those scrapes that Scootaloo gave you!" Scootaloo gave her a disbelieving look. "Um, Sweetie Belle, hello? We're totally lost! It's not like we can just waltz back to Zecora's and find our way out of the Everfree!" "Oh. Right." Sweetie Belle blushed and hung her head. "I kinda forgot." "I haven't been able to forget," grumbled Scootaloo. "Not with dirt covering every inch of my fur and my mane in tangles!" "At least you don't have a concert in a week!" retorted Sweetie Belle, putting a hoof up to her curly mane and bringing a few strands of it down to eye level. "My stylist will have an aneurysm when she sees my scrapes and my mane!" "Yer assuming that we'll be outta here in a week," said Applebloom grimly. "Ah'm just not sure." "You're lost, too?" asked Pound Cake, the last bit of hope disappearing. "So I guess you won't be able to tell us the way out of here, huh?" "Nope," said Applebloom sadly, shaking her head. "Ah'm guessin' you won't be able to do the same for us, then." There was a moment of grim silence in which the three young mares and Pound Cake looked miserably around them. Then Pinkie, who had been unusually quiet, spoke up. "It's not that bad!" she said brightly, leaping to her hooves and bouncing around them as she spoke. "I've got cupcakes and plenty of water! And as long as we can find Zecora's hut, I'm sure that we'll be able to find our way back to home in under a week! Besides, we've got one another—strength in numbers, that's what Granny Pie always said! Each of us has got our own talents and weaknesses, so we'll be able to help each other out! TEAMWORK!!" Pound Cake blinked, eyes wide open. Applebloom attempted to smile, while Sweetie Belle stood there with a mildly confused look on her face. Scootaloo, meanwhile, pretended to gag on something. "Gross! I don't want some namby-pamby lecture on how to help one another—I want to get out of this creepy forest!" she said, rolling her eyes. She turned away and started hiking towards a path. Several hoofsteps away, she turned around with a sheepish look on her face. She found the four ponies with similar flat, disapproving looks on their faces. With a weak smile, she nodded and said, "But, you know . . . teamwork's cool, too." Pinkie was the only one who seemed to notice that Pound wasn't eagerly dashing off with the three mares. After several bouncy steps with the three ponies, she looked behind her and found Pound Cake sitting nervously on the forest ground. "Huh? What's wrong, Poundy?" she asked, drawing her eyebrows together. "I'm scared," he whispered, making sure that Applebloom and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were far ahead of them. So far, they hadn't seemed to notice that he was far behind. "Of what?" she asked, taking a step closer to him and nuzzling the top of his head. "You know that there's really nothing to be scared of in the Everfree forest, right?" "I'm not scared of that, exactly," he whispered. For maybe one in her life, Pinkie didn't attempt to fill up the silence. "I'm scared . . . well, I'm afraid that . . . what if I hurt one of those ponies again?" he burst out. "What if I rip a feather out of Scootaloo's wings, or what if I hurt Sweetie's horn . . ." His voice cracked, making it difficult for him to finish the sentence without bursting into tears. The mention of an injured horn had brought memories flooding back into his head. The horror of being lost in a forest had built a dam against the memories of the accident, but a one word broke the dam and sent everything flying back into his head. Blood everywhere . . . A silvery residue, sizzling on the stove . . . Screams filling the air, screams so loud and grief-stricken that you can practically taste them . . . The cake on the stove burning and flling the kitchen with smoke . . . A handicapped sister for life . . . "Poundy?" asked Pinkie Pie, shaking him out of his thoughts. She seemed to sense that he had slipped back into the past. "They're getting pretty far ahead. Maybe we should catch up, huh?" "Yeah," said Pound Cake, giving her a smile that felt as though it was made of wood. He took a few heavy steps. "Come on, Poundy; I want a real smile!" She pounced on him and held him down, tickling his stomach and his hooves and—the most sensitive part of his body—right underneath his wings. "No!" he shouted through giggles, falling into peals of laughter again. He forced some strength into his ticklish wings and rocketed high above her head. "Come back here, you cheater!" she shouted, giggling and racing after him. In the air, Pound Cake found that he was still smiling. He lifted a hoof to his cheeks and felt the round balls of skin created by his smile. Feeling ready to speak normally again, he swooped down next to the three mares and slowed his flight to match their steps. "So, where are we going?" he asked, smiling shyly. Pinkie was just managing to catch up, and he never quite managed to feel comfortable in a social situation without Pinkie Pie at his side. "Ah have no idea," huffed Applebloom, sighing and setting her jaw in a frustrated manner. "Ah think we should head along one of these paths and look for familiar landforms. Then we'll either be able to find our way outta these here woods or find our way to Zecora's hut." "Zecora . . . she's that zebra, right?" asked Pound. "Pinkie's told me a lot about her. They used to talk a lot back when Pinkie was younger." "Yeah, Miss Zecora's gettin' up there in age," sighed Applebloom. "She don't get out much these days, but she greets visitors real warmly. Ah hope that we manage to find her hut soon so that you two can meet—ah've got a feelin' that you two'll get along like two peas in a pod." "I hope we get to her hut soon so that I can get inside a real house," grumbled Scootaloo. "I don't think that I'm ever gonna be able to go camping again." Sweetie Belle giggled. "Remember that time we thought we could get our cutie marks in wilderness survival, so we tried to stay in Applebloom's backyard for a night?" "Ah seem to recall that we got scared by a timber wolf and ended up in my house by 10:00," laughed Applebloom, grinning at her two friends. "And remember that time you came to Sugarcube Corner and tried to help me make cupcakes, but you started a really-really-really-really humungous fire and accidentally burned off Scootaloo's mane?" Scootaloo blushed. "The fire wasn't that big," she muttered. "And you make it sound like they burned off my whole mane." Sweetie Belle giggled, nudging Scootaloo. "It took, like, seven months for it to look normal again!" "Aww, cut it out, you guys," groaned Scootaloo, rolling her eyes. "I think that we should work on finding our way out of the woods before we start telling stories about us as fillies!" "You guys seemed kind of obsessed with getting your cutie marks," commented Pound Cake, flying a bit higher to avoid a large rock sticking out of the path. "We were the Cutie Mark Crusaders!" exclaimed Sweetie Belle, looking at him as though everypony knew that. "Of course we were obsessed with getting our cutie marks." "Uh, Sweetie Belle, he wasn't alive for the age of the CMC," said Applebloom, raising an eyebrow. "He was probably only a year or two old when we got our cutie marks." For the first time, Pound glanced at their flanks. Blushing (he always felt uncomfortable staring at a cutie mark too long), he quickly flicked his eyes over their flanks. Applebloom's flank held a paintbrush and a hammer crossing over to form an X, Sweetie Belle's displayed two eighth notes the color of her mane, and Scootaloo's bore a flaming magenta tire. "How'd you get them?" he asked. "Well, we put on this awesome show for our school's, like, hundredth annual talent show," Sweetie Belle began. "Applebloom did scenery and costumes, Sweetie did the singing, and I did a truly awesome dance routine involving my scooter," jumped in Scootaloo, smiling in a way that told Pound Cake that she was bragging just the tiniest amount. "And when Sweetie Belle hit her last magnificent note, these appeared on our flanks!" finished Applebloom grandly. "Wow," said Pound Cake, and he really meant it. That was possibly the best way to get your cutie mark—surrounded by your good friends. You don't even have friends, his mind pointed out. He brushed that thought away and focused on flying, feeling rather self-conscious of the lack of a cutie mark on his flank. Applebloom seemed to sense what was on his mind, and she jumped in with a question. "Do you have any idea what yer cutie mark might be?" she asked kindly. "Uh, not really," he said. "My sister got her cutie mark a little less than a year ago, so I'll probably get mine sooner or later." "Don't let your friends sucker you into doing crazy stunts," Sweetie Belle advised him, looking pointedly at Scootaloo. The orange pegasi's jaw dropped open. "How was I supposed to know that our special talent wasn't in ziplining?" she protested. "Common sense?" suggested Sweetie Belle. The two of them giggled with each other, but Applebloom looked serious. "Don't ya . . . don't ya ever feel upset about not having your mark?" she asked carefully, rubbing a hoof up and down her foreleg uncertainly. "Not often," he said, shrugging. The part of my mind filled with bad feelings is reserved for other things, he thought, not daring to speak the words on his mind aloud. Applebloom shrugged and looked off to the side thoughtfully. "Do ya want us to teach you how to get your cutie mark?" she asked after a few moments of pondering. "It's not a thing than can be taught, is it?" said Pound. "Well, if you really want to get your cutie mark—" "Okay!" Pinkie Pie broke in, clapping her hooves together. "Well, we've been walking for a bit, and I don't think we should run out of energy. Water and cupcake break!" The Crusaders excitedly gathered around Pinkie's saddlebags for nourishment, and the subject of cutie marks seemed to be gone. Pound ate his cupcake without tasting it. It seemed like Pinkie had wanted to stop the topic of cutie marks. Why? Was she afraid that Pound Cake would feel insecure? Pound wished that everypony would stop making such a big deal about cutie marks. It would happen when it happened, and there was nothing he could do to make it come faster. He wasn't willing to zipline just to fit in with his classmates. "We'd better get going," said Scootaloo, taking a final gulp of water and screwing the cap of the canteen back on. "Right," said Pound, nodding vigorously. He had no plans of sleeping in the woods again that night. Placing his water back into Pinkie's saddlebags, he hovered a few feet off of the ground towards Scootaloo. Scootaloo's reaction to the foal flying was astonishing. She spewed out the mouthful of water, took a step backwards, and let her eyes widen as her cheeks turned the color of overripe beets. "Y-You can fly?" she asked, looking as though Pound Cake had deeply offended her. "Yes?" said Pound Cake hesitantly, dropping to the ground. "I've been able to do it for a really long time . . ." Scootaloo pressed her lips together, turned around, and stomped along the path. "Don' mind her," said Applebloom, shrugging. "She gets like that sometimes." She herded Pound a few yards away from Pinkie and dropped her tone to a whisper. "Listen, Pound," she said, "If ya ever want me to help you get yer cutie mark . . . well, let's say ah've got a few tricks." Pound Cake felt weak as he walked down the path. Scootaloo hated him for flying, he was the whole reason that they were all lost in the woods, and Applebloom seemed intent on making sure he got his cutie mark. What had he gotten himself into?
