My eyes remain closed as I hear that shrill scream. If I'm about to be attacked, I don't want to see it coming. I continue to shrivel and shrink tight as I hear that awful screech.

“Sweetie Belle!” I hear my mother calling but it sounds a bit muffled as if the voice is behind a door. A moment later I hear a pounding on a door.

Surprised, I finally open my eyes. I grow doubly surprised to learn my environment changed yet again.

This is my room! How did I get here all of a sudden?

“Sweetie Belle, I'm coming in,” my mother, Cookie Crumbles, warns. After she says that, the dull pink hided and two shades purple mane and tail mare does, indeed, enter my room. From there, she immediately comes to my bed and squeezes me on both of my shoulders between her forehooves. “Honey, talk to me. What's wrong? Is it that dream again?”

Dream? So I was dreaming?

Oh, and I had that dream before?

If this is true, this may explain why my environment changed again. What I suffered before must have been a dream and now I've awakened back in my room in Ponyville.

I should feel relieved, but for a very brief moment, I panic again because, if the experience I went through was a dream, then the errand I've done for my sister hasn't been completed yet.

Until it occurs to me that that specific errand was yet another element of the dream. That's good! It means I haven't let my sister down yet.

Well, at least not in this specific context.

Besides, my older sister is fairly wealthy now. She's a successful fashionista across Equestria. If she needed some errand like a bolt of cloth to be delivered to one of her boutiques, there are plenty of other ponies she could have hired.

That might have been my mindset during the dream as well. Despite the fact that Rarity could have hired anypony, I volunteered because I still like to please my sister even after all these years.

My older sister . . . who is celebrated to be the Element of Generosity. Well . . . I like to show her that I can be that generous too every once in a while. I don't need any reward for such endeavors either. I love her!

Besides, helping other ponies is what I do for a living! I am a Cutie Mark Crusader.

To that end, I suppose I should comfort my overly anxious mom.

“I'm fine, Mother. I'm fine,” I assure her as I start to sit up. “It was just a bad dream.”

“The same dream?” my mother asks me with lingering concern.

Because of her question, I think back.

My mind is still waking up, but it feels like it groggily responds with: Well, since you asked, here's the information I'm able to pull up on such short notice.

It turns out I did suffer from such a dream before. Many elements are different each time. The location keeps changing and the circumstances leading up to the nightmare keeps changing, but several things that are fairly consistent is the feeling of being slowly followed yet I'm unable to escape, the arrival of either fog in daylight or darkness at night, a whistle from a pony or creature I can't see, and six times out of ten it ends with a visit from some demonic raven. The song of the whistle is consistent too. Try as I might, I can't recall when I've heard something similar while awake. If it weren't for the haunting elements surrounding the song, I would have found it quite catchy.

I really enjoy music, after all, and the song didn't seem inherently bad.

Although I want to comfort my mother, I don't want to lie to her to do it.

“Yes, Mother. Sort of,” I answer her. “This time I was galloping an errand for my older sister by delivering a bolt of cloth to her boutique in Canterlot. When I got out, it was fog this time. I couldn't find anypony except one who whistled out in that endless stretch of fog.

“Oh Mom! It was scary! I was so scared!”

As I predicted, my comment immediately provokes my mother to hug me tightly. I squeeze my eyes shut as I lean into that hug. Regardless of the circumstances that caused this action, I love this part! I love being hugged and touched affectionately. It really makes my day. I know that, no matter what, I can always count on that from my parents whenever I need it.

“I'm so sorry, Sweetie. I really wish I could do something to defend you in your dreams,” my mother bemoans. “Anything that attacks either one of my daughters will always invoke my wrath. You know you can count on me, don't you?”

“Of course, Mom,” I say in a slightly muffled way since I'm speaking into the fur of her left shoulder because I'm still being hugged tightly. “I always know that about you and Dad. That's why I love you both so much.”

“Maybe there is a spell or hypnosis we could try,” my mother muses with a concerned but also calculating tone. “I don't want my darling baby girl attacked anymore! It makes me sick that I can't defend you in this regard.”

“I know you would if you could,” I announce. “Knowing that already makes me feel better.”

“My feelings right now may feel familiar to you someday when you get foals of your own,” my mother continues to muse but she sounds a lot calmer this time.

“Eh . . . we'll see about that someday,” I reply.

“Well,” my mother pulls back so she can finally look at me this morning. “Don't you have a date with your very special somepony tonight?” my mother asks me with clearly rising excitement in her voice.

I feel myself burn with embarrassment but also pleasure. I have to acknowledge to myself that it is a very pleasant situation. Not only because I really, really like him, but also because I enjoy the mere idea of being in a romantic relationship. I read romance and fairy tale novels while growing up all the time. Having a romantic relationship feels like a rite of passage to me. A necessary step for me to cross over the threshold from fillyhood to adulthood.

“I, uh . . . think it’s rather nice,” I admit to my mother shyly.

“Oh. Of course,” my mother accepts. “I'm sure your Cutie Mark Crusader activities greatly fill your mind, too.”

“Well, that and school,” I tell her in a more relaxed tone.

“Speaking of which,” my mother says as she looks at the lilac-colored curtain of my room, “the morning sunshine will soon be upon us. You best get ready for school.” She looks back at me. “To that end, I've been preparing some breakfast for you.”

“Oh Mom, you're the best!” I cry excitedly as I lean forward to hug her again. Honestly, she does this for me every morning. I shouldn't feel this excited since it's so routine, but that is exactly what I love about her so much. I have a reason to look forward to waking up every morning.

“I love you Mom,” I tell her with tender affection.

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” my mother replies in the same tender way.

“Sweeeeeeeety Beeeeeeeeeeelle!” one of my best friends, Scootaloo, calls to me outside. “Come out, come out, wherever you aaaaaaaaaaaaaare.”

“Well,” my dad, Hondo Flakes, says casually as he floats his newspaper down on the dinner table with his magic. “Sounds to me like your ride has arrived.”

“Oh, I know!” my mother says happily with a dismissive wave of a hoof. “She's such a darling to provide my precious daughter a ride to school every morning. To that end,” she looks at then floats not one, but three lunchboxes over to me. When it is delivered, she looks at me and says exactly what I expect her to say. “Sweetie Belle, be a doll and deliver these other lunchboxes to your precious little friends, why don'cha? It's the least we can do for all the favors they show us.”

“I do favors for them too, Mom,” I remind her. “But sure! I have no qualms delivering them something extra special. After all, they appreciate it too.

“Although,” I blush a bit. “Apple Bloom has complained a few times. After all, she can't seem to leave her home without being stuffed to the brim. She gets a traditional family breakfast every morning. As for lunch, she has at least one apple every day. Often she shares that with us, too.”

“Oh, I know!” my mother says happily with another dismissive wave of a hoof. “That's why you won't find apple slices among the lunchboxes. I'm sure your daw-ling friend has that aspect covered. I just thought I'd provide a little something extra special,” she declares with a wink. “Like caramel dip. That should go well with her apple slices, don'cha know?”

For a moment I just stare at my mother as I grow a happy smile. After that, I hop out of my seat, canter around the table, then peck my mother on the cheek followed by the appreciative comment, “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“You're welcome,” my mother replies pleasantly. “Have a good day at school, Hon.”

“I will. Bye! I love you!” I remind her again.

While floating up his newspaper again, my father leans over to his right as I start to circle the table again. As he expected, I gladly peck him a kiss on the cheek too before heading out the door.

I yawn tiredly while I ride within the red wagon that is pulled by one of my best friends Scootaloo. She pulls it from the lead while riding on a scooter herself. She uses her tiny wings for propulsion.

My other best friend, Apple Bloom, is also riding in the wagon with me. In her case, she is relaxing casually on her back while seeming to admire the sky above her.

As we continue our ride to school, I mull over the fact that I went through multiple phases during my life regarding this service Scootaloo is providing. First I experienced giddy gratitude because this kind of service is very rare in Equestria, especially among foals. Carts and wagons are pulled all the time in other cities. It seems especially common in Manehatten. I've seen that city multiple times while joining my elder sister as we made our way to her Manehatten boutique. Some wagons actually fly if pulled by pegasi. Scootaloo is such a race. She can't fly, but she can achieve very fast forward momentum.

The second phase I experienced about this service is a small shade of guilt. I could have trot my way to school with no problem. Apple Bloom lives even further and she used to do it all the time until Scoots starting insisting we go together. We do everything together, it seems, and all three of us rarely mind that fact.

But the part of me that felt guilt over this situation is the realization that the two of us, Apple Bloom and I that is, are being somewhat of a burden to Scootaloo. After all, she is the one pulling us to school all the time. I don't mind it every once in a while, but the fact we've been doing it every single day for quite a while had started to make me feel guilty.

On top of that, I've occasionally noticed jealous looks from the other foals we pass along our way to school. In most cases, they usually pretend to be happy for us. They'd wave at us as we pass and say, “Good morning.” I'm sure what they say isn't entirely a lie, but I can see that jealous gleam in their eyes, too. They wish they were one of us. That might even apply to the colts, but I'm sure they'd deny it if we asked.

During this phase, it bothered me so much that I once brought it up with my friends. I can't remember if it was Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, both, or possibly some other pony. In any case, I was told that Scootaloo happily provided this service because she loved to be useful. She likes going fast and she loves riding her scooter. Doing so with her very best friends makes the experience all the more enjoyable for her.

After I was told this, my attitude relaxed a lot further about this issue. The pleasant feelings I used to get for this returned except it gained a little extra depth to it. Warmth fills my heart to realize that riding with my two best friends like this is giving Scootaloo so much inner fulfillment. It makes so much sense that she wouldn't offer this service, or even insist upon it, if it genuinely didn't make her feel happy.

And that is the part I love about this experience. The sheer idea of knowing Scootaloo is so happy to provide this service. I love her so much! If there is anything I can do to provide her further happiness, so shall I do.

I'm sure Apple Bloom would've said the same thing, but she generally doesn't overthink as I do. Arguably, her specialty is to overfeel instead. Neither I nor Scootaloo sank unto a depressive rut more often or more deeply than my best friend Apple Bloom. I hate it when she gets into a funk like that, but that's what best friends are for. To help lift us up whenever we feel down.

I've had my moments too. Sometimes I can be quite the brat. Other times I can be . . .

. . . well . . .

It varies, honestly. I can get into a funk for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes it even seems to happen to me for no reason at all!

Life can be complicated for a girl sometimes, but then again, that's what best friends are for. We provide nurturing support about as often as we need it. It feels great to know we have that extra emotional safety net.

And boy, did we earn it!

I look around me as I casually yawn again. What I see, hear, and smell causes me to grow a dim pleasant smile.

I sure love this town! The smell of hay in the morning or the dirt streets that is clomped by all kinds of crisscrossing ponies. Most of them are doing something fairly routine like heading to work, but the wonderful thing about pony life is that the job often entails something to do with their cutie mark. That, in turn, means that whatever they are doing, they are doing in pursuit of their very special life's purpose. In most cases, they are doing what they'd willingly do for free. Being paid for it is simply a bonus, albeit a very necessary bonus to help pay the bills. This explains why they often head to “work” with a smile on their face and/or a jaunty tune on their lips. When the citizens of Ponyville say, “Good Morning to you,” they very often genuinely mean it.

This is especially true with Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter. She usually doesn't trot down the streets of Ponyville. Instead, she literally hops in pure joy. More than any other citizen of this town, it is especially common to get a pleasant greeting from her upon passing her, and she almost always does it by name unless it is a true stranger to this town. If it is, then that person just might get a very special extra greeting.

For Pinkie, spreading joy and smiles is her mission in life, so doing the one thing that is common in this town is extra intense.

It is a very pleasant thought to me and makes me feel gushy inside. Being a pony here in Equestria is often very pleasant, but it keeps getting better after each individual pony discovers their cutie mark. Honestly, that is just the start of their personal journey. For each step they take to further fulfill it, the stronger the joy and magic rises from the depths of our hearts. It just keeps getting better!

That's why my friends and I feel so much fulfillment in helping others find their purpose in life. We feel that way because we know where that direction leads. We give each of our very special clients a “push” in the right direction. Once those initial steps are taken, it often results in a cascade effect. After that, we can just step back and admire our hoofywork.

“Thanks, Cutie Mark Crusaders!” is the joyous call we often get as we pass one of our previous clients. For very logical reasons, most of our former clients are from Ponyville.

But I have given some thought to our future. Since we're just foals still, we don't often travel abroad, especially not alone, but I never forgot that, one day, we actually will grow up someday. Along with that are also expanded opportunities. Perhaps very important ones. For example, maybe we'd finally expand our business beyond the boundaries of Ponyville. After all, Ponyville can't be the only place to experience cutie mark problems. I even heard that just one street in Manehatten can have more than three times the population of all of Ponyville.

The thought of that expanded opportunity and necessity both excites and frightens me. There stands a good chance we could get swarmed by needy clients if our net expands that far. It would trickle at first, just like in Ponyville, as we get established. But, after just a few moons, it is likely to become clear to me that we absolutely need to expand our work force or we'll not keep up with the rising demand.

In the long gallop, I'm hoping that we're creating a legacy that will last throughout the ages. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that a service like this should have existed a long time ago. After all, we are not the first ponies to get frustrated with the journey of self-discovery. Plenty of others have suffered this fate and need help.

I even heard really grim rumors of what other ponies have done due to their frustration of failing to get their mark. In very rare cases, some of their actions are extreme in that regard. Sometimes extreme to a permanent degree.

That thought makes me shudder, but it also reminds me why the service we provide is so important. Very often a pony would discover their cutie mark anyway given enough time. We just give them a little push. Another possibility is they might lose their way after discovering their mark and we are discovering that can be even more common. Once a pony has their mark, that is a permanent achievement. But, after that, they have all the time in the world to lose their way. More time passed means the odds accumulate.

That, in turn, means our services will always be in demand. In fact, it will be in more demand than our ability to provide. All three of us could die of old age and the demand would continue. That's why I'm determined to hire apprentices after we grow up. Our legacy must continue!

I grin as I realize I'm overthinking again. I do that sometimes.

Neigh. Often, I suppose.

Author's Note

*Note: This chapter has awarded the story with the Slice-of-life genre tag.

For now and the next few chapters, it is meant to be a "day in the life" story for Sweetie Belle in order to get to know the character better, those around her, and the situation she usually deals with before ratcheting the tension back up again. In this regard, the story may feel like a roller coaster of ups and downs. I'll build on the setting, the era, and the characters before introducing the main conflict.