We were slowly making our way down the dusty path, the wagon creaking under the weight of all our camping gear. The fresh morning breeze ruffled my mane as I lounged among the sacks, idly watching the weathered arch marking the entrance to Rockville. The sign, barely legible, read “Welcome to Rockville.” The faded paint gave it the look of a nostalgic decoration, a relic that perfectly captured the monotony of the place. It was a symbol of what we were leaving behind: silence, rocks, and the endless routine.

The camp we were heading to, however, promised something entirely different: wild nature, open skies, and a break from the same old scenery. It felt like a small spark of freedom in the midst of all the predictability.

I shifted among the sacks, plucked a stalk of wheat, and popped it into my mouth. Stretching out my hind legs, I crossed my forelegs behind my head, assuming the most relaxed pose I could manage. A small smile crept onto my face—a blend of smugness and satisfaction. Convincing Dad to let us go on this trip had been no small feat, and I was savoring my little victory.

From my prime spot on the wagon, I glanced at my sisters. Maud was her usual self: calm, unflappable, as if nothing in the world could disturb her. Pinkamena, on the other hoof, seemed a little more animated than usual, with that strange glimmer beginning to form in her eyes. Marble was hiding behind her mane and the sacks like she wanted to disappear, while Limestone already looked irritated. Her expression screamed, "I hate every second of this," and we had barely started the trip.

My parents, pulling the wooden wagon at a steady pace, remained silent. Mom occasionally glanced back, likely checking that everything was in order. Dad, true to form, marched forward with determination, as if he were carrying not only the weight of the wagon but also all our expectations.

Everything was quiet and serene until a voice shattered the peace.

“I still can’t believe you managed to convince him to do this. How is that even possible?” Limestone demanded, shooting me a glare sharp enough to split a boulder.

Turning my head toward her, I lazily played with the stalk of wheat in my mouth. I took my time responding, letting the moment drag out before finally pointing a hoof at her and winking with as much smugness as I could muster.

“I have my charms.”

Limestone rolled her eyes with an audible groan. Pinkamena looked surprised, and I could’ve sworn I saw Marble peek out from behind her mane for a moment. Maud, of course, remained entirely expressionless, though something in the air told me she was quietly amused by the exchange.

The journey continued in silence after that, broken only by the creak of the wheels and the occasional crunch of stones beneath my parents' hooves. As the path stretched on, the landscape began to change. The gray hills of Rockville faded into the background, replaced by tall, dense trees whose leaves whispered to each other in the gentle wind.

I couldn’t help but think this would be the perfect moment for one of those classic travel songs—the kind that narrate the journey while bringing everyone together as a family. But how would I even pull that off? I mean, I love songs and music (with some exceptions, of course), but it’s not like I’m a singer or know how to play an instrument. Music doesn’t just appear out of nowhere… right?

…Right?

Should I try? Maybe music is my talent… Nah, it’s way too embarrassing to test that theory now. Another day, maybe.

After a while of walking, we delved deeper into the forest. The ground took on a greenish-gray hue, and the towering trees formed a thick canopy overhead. Eventually, we came upon a spacious clearing, surrounded by sturdy trunks and branches that let in just enough light to illuminate the center. From above, it must’ve looked like the perfect little opening in the vast forest, just right for setting up camp.

I hopped down from the wagon with a bit of clumsiness, shaking the dust off my legs. I began unloading saddlebags and sacks, each packed with provisions and tools. As I worked, a spark of excitement flickered in me. Maybe this weekend would change my life forever. I might finally earn my Cutie Mark, that one-of-a-kind symbol that would mark the start of my true journey.

But my thoughts were interrupted by Dad’s calm voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to discover your Cutie Mark, Marble?” he asked gently, glancing at my younger sister, who was still hiding behind her mane and the wagon sacks.

Marble mumbled something inaudible, while Pinkamena watched the interaction curiously from the side. It didn’t take long for Dad to shift his attention to her as well.

“You too, Pinkamena. This might be a good chance for you to try and find your Cutie Mark.”

And that’s when my brain came to a screeching halt.

Wait. What?

I blinked, trying to process what I’d just heard. Had he really mentioned “Pinkamena” and “Cutie Mark” in the same sentence? Something clicked in my mind, like a hammer striking a massive bell.

“No way…” I muttered, incredulous, letting a sack fall from my grasp.

I’m a complete idiot!

This situation was far more complicated than it seemed—like a geode hiding brilliant crystals beneath a dull outer shell. The problem wasn’t just that I was looking for my Cutie Mark. The problem was Pinkamena. Or more specifically, Pinkie Pie before she was Pinkie Pie—the cheerful, party-loving pony that all of Equestria would come to know. Right now, she didn’t have her Cutie Mark yet, and that made this trip a ticking time bomb for me.

This weekend was supposed to be my chance to try new things and hopefully discover my own mark. But whatever worked for me could also work for Pinkamena. And if she got a Cutie Mark different from the one she was destined for, it could change everything.

A chill ran down my spine. The idea of altering Pinkamena’s fate—and by extension, the future of Equestria—made me want to scream at the sky.

As we worked to unload and set up camp, my thoughts spiraled. Cutie Marks had always been a fascinating and mysterious topic. Nobody really knew how they worked. But… were they unchangeable destinies? Or could they be influenced? What if someone got a mark based on something else? What would happen then?

What if I was the one to change it?

I mean, Cutie Marks are supposed to represent destiny or a special talent or something like that, but that’s just what ponies believe because marks only appear once. There’s no way to test what would happen if someone got more than one.

I shivered. The theory was impossible to prove; you only get one Cutie Mark in a lifetime. But in my case, it was different. I knew how and when Pinkamena was supposed to get hers. If this weekend derailed that… what kind of effect would it have on the future?

I glanced at Pinkamena as she unpacked. She didn’t seem particularly interested in anything at the moment. But that was the problem with Cutie Marks: they often appeared when you least expected them.

My thoughts were interrupted by a snippet of conversation I caught in the background between my mother and Pinkamena and Marble.

“You could use this weekend as an opportunity to discover your special talent. It might be something related to nature,” she said, her words meant to encourage Marble but clearly directed at Pinkamena too.

My ears shot up. Oh no. No, no, no, NO! This was exactly what I was afraid of. If Pinkamena started trying new things this weekend, she might end up with a completely different Cutie Mark from the balloons that symbolized her joy and her destiny as the Element of Laughter.

I let out a long, heavy sigh as I hauled another sack from the cart. This was terrible.

How do Cutie Marks actually work? If she finds something else she likes, is it possible she could get a different one? Or does it not matter what she does—will she always get the one she’s supposed to have?

Remember everything you know about Cutie Marks, Echo… wait, wasn’t there a group of fillies in the show who focused on them? But what was the result? Ugh, I don’t know.

Think of something else. The time-travel episode—yes! But… darn it, I didn’t really pay attention to their marks. Did they have the same ones? Or, because it was an animated show, was it just for simplicity’s sake? Here, in real life, I couldn’t be sure that things wouldn’t turn out differently.

“Yeah, this is a disaster,” I muttered to myself. Then, with a touch of self-deprecation, I added, “And the worst part is, it was my idea to come to this camp. What an idiot I am!”

I looked up at the sky as if hoping for some divine answer to fall from the clouds. But, of course, nothing came. Just the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds.

I needed to think fast. If this trip really was a turning point for Pinkamena, I’d have to be extra careful. I couldn’t let Equestria’s future change by accident—especially not because of me.

The universe, it seemed, wasn’t planning to cut me any slack this time.

The first day of the Pie family’s camping trip marked a rare event for a family known for their austere and unshakable focus on working with rocks. Far from their quarries and fields, they found themselves surrounded by greenery and towering trees. It was a scene that might have seemed ordinary to others but was nothing short of extraordinary for them.

The Pie family wasn’t known for their charisma or enthusiasm for recreational activities. Their reputation was built on their seriousness and discipline. That’s why the idea of a weekend camping trip was such a drastic departure that it would have baffled anyone who knew them.

The family had chosen a spacious clearing in the middle of the forest. The spot, tinged with a faintly somber atmosphere due to a few withered trees, provided a peaceful retreat under the morning’s blue sky. It was perfect for the planned activities, though seeing the Pies—more accustomed to rocky terrain—surrounded by so much greenery felt undeniably odd.

At the center of the makeshift camp, the now nearly empty cart rested next to piles of wood and stones they had gathered for the fire pit. Two tents stood off to the side, neatly packed with each member’s personal belongings. The seven ponies were assembled near the stack of wood, lined up with a precision that could almost be mistaken for a military formation.

The adults—Igneous Rock Pie and Cloudy Quartz—stood like statues, their serious and assessing gazes fixed on the group. In front of them, the five young ponies stood perfectly aligned, their expressions ranging from curiosity to timidity to practiced neutrality. The atmosphere carried a gravity that felt unusual for a simple camping trip.

Igneous, with the same formality he would bring to directing an operation at the quarry, began a roll call.

“Echorellian Crumble Pie.”

“Present.”

“Marble Pie.”

“Hmh-mmm… here,” Marble murmured, shyly raising a hoof that trembled slightly.

The roll call continued with the same solemnity until every name had been called. Satisfied, Igneous gave a detailed outline of the camp’s activities.

“We’ll be staying here for three days. The tents have been assigned according to the plans we previously discussed. Meals will be served on time, and everyone will have free time to explore or relax in addition to participating in the activities we’ve prepared.”

With the ceremony concluded, Igneous nodded firmly.

“Very well. Let’s begin our day outdoors.”

The younger ponies were dismissed, some trotting over to the tents while others lingered near the fire pit. Pinkamena, Marble, and Echo stayed behind for a moment, exchanging glances. Echo couldn’t shake the feeling that this weekend had become far more than a simple family outing, much to his own misfortune. Too many variables were at play, and even the smallest deviation could have unpredictable consequences.

As the adults finished unpacking the last items from the wagon and prepared the first activities, Echo’s eyes wandered to Pinkamena’s blank flank.

This is going to be more complicated than I thought, he mused grimly. And we’re only just getting started.

With the equipment unpacked and the tents set up, the adults once again called the foals, who assembled into another impeccable line. Even in the relaxed embrace of nature, the Pie family’s inherent formality shone through, lending an air of order to the camp.

Igneous, as serious as ever, explained the first activity of the day: a nature walk through the forest.

“This will be an opportunity to practice tracking and orientation skills. You’ll also learn to identify useful plants, and if luck is on your side, you might find interesting rocks or edible plants to enhance our meals.”

While the idea for this trip had originated with Echo, his parents noticed something unusual. Instead of the excitement they might have expected, Echo seemed oddly tense. His gaze flitted around the area cautiously, frequently landing on Pinkamena as though he were keeping a particularly close eye on her.

During the walk, Echo kept a steady pace, always making sure to stay close to Pinkamena. Limestone led the group with firm strides, while Maud amused herself by examining every intriguing rock along the path. Pinkamena, meanwhile, seemed to quietly enjoy the environment, her curiosity manifesting in subtle ways that Echo found increasingly unsettling.

As they progressed, Igneous pointed out various plants, explaining their uses.

“This here is sorrel, good for salads or soothing insect bites. And over there”—he gestured toward a yellow-petaled flower—“is arnica. It’s not edible but can be used to treat bruises and wounds.”

Pinkamena paused, staring at the flower with an interested expression. Echo, who had been keeping watch, immediately darted over to intervene.

“Did you know some flowers can be poisonous if you don’t use them properly?” he blurted out, aiming to distract her.

“Really?” Pinkamena asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

“Oh, yeah. It’s super complicated. Better stick with the group,” Echo said, gently nudging her forward with a forced smile.

Throughout the hike, Echo continued this tactic: stepping in just in time to redirect Pinkamena’s attention whenever her curiosity threatened to linger on anything for too long.

When a rabbit suddenly leapt from a bush and stopped in front of Pinkamena, her attention locked onto it with wonder. She approached, reaching out a hoof to touch the creature out of sheer curiosity. Before she could, however, the rabbit was unceremoniously kicked back into the bush.

“Erm… oops, I slipped,” Echo said, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance. Pinkamena turned to him with a look of mild confusion but said nothing.

This weekend is going to be a nightmare, Echo thought, sighing inwardly.

Further ahead, when they came across a tree whose roots formed a natural arch in the ground, Igneous suggested a simple activity: drawing a basic map of the area.

“A good exercise in orientation,” he explained.

Pinkamena seemed genuinely excited about the idea, but Echo, growing increasingly nervous, quickly stepped forward with a strained smile.

“Oh, great idea! But, uh… Pinkamena’s not really into maps, are you, Pinkie?” he said, placing a hoof on her shoulder with exaggerated familiarity.

Pinkamena blinked at him in confusion.

“Well, it looks fun, but—”

“Perfect! Then let’s just keep walking, right? We wouldn’t want to slow the group down,” Echo interrupted with a nervous chuckle, gently nudging her forward. The slight tremor in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by Limestone, who raised an eyebrow at him.

As the group resumed their walk, Echo’s mind raced. If Pinkamena gets her Cutie Mark now, it could be something entirely different from what it’s supposed to be. What if it changes her destiny? What if she doesn’t become who she’s meant to be?

Every small movement Pinkamena made, every spark of curiosity in her eyes, put Echo on edge. His self-imposed mission to avoid any “inspiring moments” was beginning to wear him down. To the others, he might seem like an overly protective sibling, but Echo knew he was treading a precarious line.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the rustle of leaves and the crunch of twigs under their hooves blended with Echo’s chaotic thoughts.

I can’t let this get out of hand, he thought, glancing at Pinkamena, who was now examining a small green sprout with innocent curiosity.

“Everything okay, Echo?” Limestone called from ahead, briefly glancing over her shoulder.

“Yep! All good. Couldn’t be better,” Echo replied with a forced laugh.

But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be easy to keep things that way. So what if I’m stopping her from finding things that interest her? Compared to living in a world torn apart by war—or worse, being completely destroyed—it’ll be worth a couple of boring days.

I just want to live my life properly, not as a refugee in some conflict that doesn’t even concern me.

The fate of a future bearer of the Element of Laughter depended on his quiet vigilance. And this was only the first day, yet he already felt drained.

The day passed with an almost deceptive calm. As the sun began to set, casting the forest in shades of orange, the exploration drew to a close. They returned to camp with the spoils of their adventure: plants, fruits, and, of course, rocks. Maud, naturally, had taken the rock collection a little too seriously, her saddlebags now bulging with stones of all shapes and sizes. Who needs a gym when you’re a Pie?

Back at the campsite, their parents worked in tandem to light the fire and start preparing dinner. Between the provisions they had brought and the resources they had gathered, there was more than enough to feed all seven ponies, with some to spare. The smell wafting from the pots and pans was intoxicating—a blend of fresh herbs and roasted fruit that made Echo’s stomach growl more than once.

By the time the meal was ready, night had fully descended, and the camp was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the fire. They settled around it, some perched on makeshift log seats, others sprawled comfortably on the ground. A cozy, contented atmosphere hung in the air—the kind of quiet satisfaction that follows a long, fulfilling day.

Then their mother pulled out her trump card: a bag of marshmallows. Even Igneous looked surprised. If this wasn’t a historic moment for the Pie family, Echo didn’t know what was. Everyone eagerly reached for the marshmallows, skewering them on sticks and holding them over the fire, watching as they toasted to a golden brown—or, in some cases, charred to a crisp.

Next came the evening’s entertainment: scary stories. Limestone, ever serious, took the lead with her tale of the “Headless Pony.” Everyone was captivated, drawn in by both her storytelling and the crackling fire. Well, almost everyone.

Echo sat next to Pinkamena but found it impossible to focus on the story. His attention flitted between quick glances at her and the anxious thoughts spinning like a top in his head. At least today didn’t have too many activities that could “inspire” anything too major, he thought, trying to reassure himself. With a sigh of relief, he let himself fall back onto the ground, away from the circle of light, and gazed up at the sky.

The stars shone with a brilliance that never failed to take my breath away. The moon, full and imposing, hung high above, illuminating the forest with its pale light.

“The Mare in the Moon,” I muttered to myself, as my eyes scanned the shadows that formed the silhouette of a unicorn.

I let my thoughts wander as I looked up at the night sky.

If only I had noticed it from the moment I was born, I might have realized much sooner what world I was in. But putting that aside, as I gazed at the moon in this moment, a more pressing thought came to me.

“To think that all this happened because of just one negative act”

It was impossible not to think of her, of Luna. I don’t know the whole story, only bits and pieces that I managed to piece together with great effort to remember and others are simply my deductions. The history books seem to have forgotten about her except for the Halloween counterpart for this world “Nightmare Night”.

But I think I remember most of it, since it was the beginning of the series.

From what I understand. For years, her efforts and her beautiful night had been ignored, overshadowed by the light of her sister. triggering an outburst, how was anyone supposed to endure that? Always living in the shadows, struggling to maintain composure, until finally, she couldn’t anymore. And when she gave in to her emotions, when she released what she had repressed for so long, the price she paid was… disproportionate.

A thousand years. A thousand years imprisoned within the very moon, a prison that was also her creation. All because she wanted to be appreciated.

"Good things will always be the hardest, while bad things will always be the easiest."

That thought echoed in my mind—a phrase I had once told myself when I faced the end in my previous life. And now, here I was again, reflecting on a mare who had carried a far greater emotional burden. The injustice of it all still stung, even after so much time.

How could I not think about it? I mean, after all, it only took one bad thing to ruin everything. It sounds familiar—years of effort, of waking up every day in pursuit of something, only for one single moment, one bad event, to end it all.

It almost sounds like a cruel joke. The tower that takes so much to build can collapse in mere seconds, so effortlessly. It feels unjust.

And the worst part is, I don’t even know who to blame—myself, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or the person responsible for the act that led to my death. My death wasn’t entirely my fault, was it?

Hmm, I couldn’t even choose how I died. It was sudden, unexpected—I wouldn’t have seen it coming. Damn it! I didn’t even get to decide how I’d go.

...

Is this how the rest of my life will be?

The night carried on with the storytelling, some tales more frightening than others, while the fire crackled softly. One by one, the group began to disperse, each pony retreating to their respective tents. I ended up sharing mine with Marble, Maud, and my father, all of whom were already settled in by the time I arrived.

I crawled into my grayish-blue sleeping bag and closed my eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. My thoughts kept circling around the day’s events.

"In the end, it wasn’t so bad," I told myself, trying to feel reassured. "I can be more at ease. Tomorrow, we probably won’t do anything that could jeopardize the future. After all, this is just a simple camping weekend."

With that thought, and the endless possibilities still swirling in my mind, I finally let myself drift into sleep, hoping that tomorrow wouldn’t be as complicated as my fears made it out to be.

Author's Note

It's the first day of wilderness camp for the Pie family.
Perfect if Echo didn't realize what he just did.

Echo is worried about Pinkie, having no idea how cutie marks really work and not being able to fully trust her to get her matching mark no matter what she does. He decides to stick to Pinkie like gum to avoid any possible different fate.

He will avoid anything she shows interest in, even if it means having to kick a rabbit back to where it came from.

He has a moment to think. How he couldn't even decide his own death.

Thanks for reading!