Ramshapple

by Phone Writer

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Big Macintosh, Main 6, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Pear Butter, Original Character, Apple Bloom
Length: 6578

He's an Apple, but he's also a wreck.

Crabapple had always been a bit of a mess. Stuck with names that never fit right and doubts a mile wide, life on Sweet Apple Acres wasn't exactly... well, sweet. But thanks to an experiment involving a triangle-shaped gem, Crabapple found his cutie mark! With a special talent behind him, everything was bound to fall into place!

...right?

Turns out, a cutie mark can't fix anything if you can't tell what that cutie mark actually is. Now, stuck with a talent he doesn't understand, friends that don't know what they're doing, and a secret he has to keep from his family, Crabapple has his work cut out for him.

This ramshackle life just got a whole lot messier.

Published 2025-02-11 20:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-02-11 20:10:01 UTC

Chapter 1: The Matter of Names

Each species known to Ponykind had a specialty; something they could take collective pride in being naturally better with. Dragons were masters of the horde, able to make themselves comfortable on even the sharpest of jewels, so long as there were enough to lay upon. Cows, by contrast, were unparalleled minimalists. Even growing calves would live for weeks on end with nothing but a field to stand in. Yaks had their walls, Minotaurs their strength, even the Serpents of land and sea were known for having highly effective hair care routines.

For Ponies, it always came back to names.

Griffins and Zebras might be content to string some pleasant sounds together, but Ponies needed to be much more careful. Every Pony child would one day receive a cutie mark; an image on their flank that would reveal their special talent to the world. To name a Pony was to set them on the path of discovery. Entire religions rose and fell over somepony's ability to name a baby, and it only made sense for them to. The right name could set a young colt or filly up for success from day one, while the wrong name…

Crabapple learned real quick what a wrong name was like.

He'd already done his time as Snowapple, and Apple Crisp before that, but they sat on him like mud in a washbasin. Ginger Gold and Big Macintosh made it look so easy; they'd stuck with the same names since Ma and Pa had taught them ‘ta trot. ‘Tosh even kept his through his cutie-marking.

Maybe there was something wrong with Crabapple. Could he be one of those colts from Pa's scary bedtime stories that never found a name of their own? Would he have ‘ta roam the countryside in search of unsuspecting ponies to feast upon?

Crabapple shook himself to send the thoughts away. He wished Ginger was here. She always filled his head with nifty country-isms ‘til he could put it back on straight. Since the Oranges were housing her for the summer, everyone at Sweet Apple Acres had been strugglin’ ‘ta lift the workload in the meantime. Even Pa looked tuckered out without his best applebucking partner. He and ‘Tosh did what they could, but neither of them could buck quite like Ginger Gold.

Speaking of helping out; there was Ma, plowin’ between the zap apple trees. Crabapple knew His ma's curly mane at the harness almost as well as his own. He'd never been clear on why they had ‘ta plow the zap apple trees, but Granny Smith insisted it happen at least twice a month; once with the steel plow and once with the rosewood.

Crabapple trotted up beside his Ma. She wasn't Ginger, but she did know just about everything, which made her a close second.

“Howdy, Ma!”

Ma gave him a gentle smile, never breaking stride. “Howdy there, kiddo. Got all your chores done?”

Crabapple nodded dutifully. “Sure did! Got the dishes washed, the pigs fed, floors swept; I even helped Pa fix a fence!”

“Good ‘ta hear, darlin’. I s’pose you'll be fixin’ ‘ta head into town now.”

Meeting his friends in Ponyville did sound nice, but Crabapple had more important things to do. “Actually, I was hopin’ you could tell me ‘bout a couple things? I got all turned around in my head again…”

“Oh, Crabapple.” Ma chuckled. “You know just the way to your ol’ ma's heart-”

Ma let out a grunt. Supposin’ something must've gone wrong, Crabapple turned ‘ta take a look at the plow. Sure enough, some big rock had ended up wedged on the blade. Ginger or ‘Tosh would've cut straight through it, but Ma didn't have the hoof-power for that.

“Plow's jammed. Could you help me back it up, Ma?”

Together, they managed to push the plow back a hoof or so; more than enough to take in the damage.

“Oh, dear.” Ma sighed. “That's stuck on there real tight. I don't think we're gettin’ it off without your pa.”

“What, this lil’ rock?” Crabapple scoffed. “I'll have the plow good as new in no time! I just need a… there!”

Crabapple snatched a nearby stick off the ground. “This'll do! Got any nails in your saddlebags?”

Now it was Ma's turn to scoff. “What do you take me for? O’course I got nails in my saddlebags!”

Two nails and a bit of whittlin’ later, Crabapple was the proud owner of a brand new rock un-sticker. Grabbing his creation with both hooves, Crabapple carefully jammed the pointy end between the rock and plow. Once the nail-heads were lined up with the plow-head, all that was left was yanking on the top end hard as he could.

With a satisfying pop, the rock shot off through the grove.

“Golly!” Ma exclaimed. “How'd you ever figure a thing like that out?”

“Ah, twern't nothin’.” Crabapple insisted. “I was just usin’ that stuff Mr. Goldenrod taught us in school. Anyone could'a done the same.”

“And he's so humble too.” Ma chuckled as she tugged the plow back into motion. “Now, what was it you wanted to hear about?”

“Well, uh, I was just wonderin’...”

“Take your time, child. There's a lot of plowin’ ‘ta be done.”

Crabapple worried his lip, hoping he would find the right words. “How'd, uh, how'd you know your name was s’posed ‘ta be Ma?”

Ma seemed to trip over something then, but she got back on her hooves real quick.

“Y'know, sometimes I forget just how young you are…”

Crabapple frowned. “What's that s'posed ‘ta mean?”

“Nothing bad,” Ma assured him, “just that I've still got a thing or two ‘ta teach ya.”

Well, Crabapple did like it when ponies taught him things. “Alright, but that don't answer my first question.”

Ma shook her head a little at him. “Ma's not my name, sweetheart.”

“Right.” Crabapple nodded seriously. “You're real name's Mom; we just call you Ma cuz it's faster.”

“Nope! That's not it neither.”

Crabapple had ‘ta run through that a second time ‘ta make sure he heard right. “But– but you're Ma! Ain't bein a ma your special talent?”

“I'm flattered y'think so, but no.”

Crabapple stamped a hoof in frustration. “Well, what is it, then?”

“Fraid that's not an answer I can give you, son-o-mine.”

Normally, that kind of answer would've left Crabapple bellyaching somethin’ fierce; he was already halfway there, in fact; but the look on Ma's face made him stop. He'd seen that look plenty of times before. It was the look Granny Smith got when he asked about Grandpa, the same look Pa got on those awful cold nights. This was a secret; not a silly one like the time ‘Tosh ate a pillow, but a full-sized, bona-fide, ground-shakin’ family secret.

There wasn't an Apple left in the whole tree that didn't know to leave family secrets alone. The last one of those to get out made the Oranges move clear across Equestria. They were still on good terms, mind, but no Oranges were showin’ up at any events Apple Puddin’ was involved in.

Crabapple wanted to know what was going on. The need burned inside him like roasted chilli peppers on a hot summer day. A part of him was ready to drag Ma home for answers right then and there, but he knew that wouldn't do any good.

It had taken a good, long while for somepony to explain family secrets ‘ta him, and a good while longer for him ‘ta learn the signs of one. In all that time, Crabapple had tried everything he could think of ‘ta learn those secrets.

When Granny Smith said she was taking it to the grave, she meant it.

“Alright, Ma,” He said, doing his best not ‘ta whine, “but I still need help!”

Ma let out another grunt as she turned the plow around a large root. “Well don't you think It'd be easier if I knew what the problem was?”

“I guess you're right…” Crabapple took a deep breath; it was now or never, he supposed. “I… I think I might be broken.”

Ma brought the plow to a stop. The silence left behind almost seemed loud, somehow.

“Why do you think that, Crabapple?”

“That's just it, Ma!” He couldn't help but shout. “My name's not Crabapple, and it's not Apple Crisp, or Snow Apple, or any other names you've all thought up! What if– what if I don't have a name? What if there's no name for me ‘cuz there's no cutie mark neither, and I don't got no special talents? What if I'm just…”

“Broken.” Ma whispered; and even if it didn't sound like a question Crabapple couldn't be sure.

“Yeah…”

“Son.” Ma knelt down to stare him straight in the eyes. “I need you to listen and listen good, alright?”

Crabapple nodded mutely.

“You are not broken. Even if you never found a name, never got your cutie mark, you still wouldn't be broken. You wanna know why?”

“Why, Ma?”

“B'cause I'm here, Crabapple.” Ma gave him a small smile. “Cuz you've got your pa, and Big Macintosh, and Ginger Gold, and all your family! As long as you've got us, there ain't nothin’ broken about you!”

Crabapple could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn't quite sure what Ma was trying to say, but the words left somethin’ warm and fuzzy in his barrel. Quick as a whip, he hugged his ma around the neck, tryin’ ‘ta keep from cryin’. He felt Ma's strong foreleg wrap around him, and all of a sudden he couldn't hold it back.

“There now, child. Let it all out.”

Crabapple couldn't guess how long they stayed there, tucked close under a zapapple tree. All he knew was that his ma must love him an awful lot ‘ta put up with him bawlin’ like a foal.

“You really mean it?” He managed ‘ta ask once he calmed down. Crabapple still wasn't sure what it was she'd be meanin’, but that didn't stop him from wanting it.

“Always, my little colt.”

Crabapple shakily got to his hooves. “Th-thanks Ma. I–”

Crabapple's words were lost in the defaning crack that carried through the grove. He could feel it shakin’ through his bones, but there weren't stuff kept around the orchard could make a sound like that. Crabapple whirled about ‘ta try and see what could've done it, but came up with a whole lotta nothin’.

Just as he was ‘bout to chalk it up ‘ta the Everfree, Crabapple caught his Ma from the corner of his eye, gawkin’ up into the blue. He turned towards where she was looking…

Some ponies say that when something truly special happens, all who witness it can tell.

Somewhere in the skies of Equestria, a Pegasus bore witness to the thrill of achievement, while her friend below witnessed a gift she could not have imagined before.

In Canterlot, a Unicorn felt light and color and hoped with all her heart to do the magic she so adored.

In the countryside, another Unicorn witnessed her destiny emerge from the most humble of stone.

In a single instant, miles apart, two Earth Ponies looked to the sky and knew in their hearts what they were meant to do.

Separated in every way imaginable, six fillies bore witness to the forging of a connection, one that would not be known for some time, but nonetheless remained.

And amidst it all, in a grove bordering the Everfree, a young colt bore witness to something he'd never seen before, and very well might never have seen again.

He bore witness, and he wondered:

“What hoof-brain let a Unicorn make a rainbow?”

“Crabapple! Don't be rude!”

Crabapple couldn't suppress his wince at his ma's tone. “Sorry, Ma, but really; not even Starswirl the Bearded would've wasted magic on that, and he wasted magic on everything!”

Ma huffed. “Pretendin’ that made a lick of sense; what's got you convinced a Unicorn made that rainbow? It could've been a Pegasus. That's what weather ponies do anyway, isn't it?”

“I– you– wha–” Crabapple couldn't even start on all the ways that was wrong. Weather ponies worked with clouds. Their rainbows used actual water ‘ta make their hazy bands of color. They did not produce a solid, glowing line that Crabapple was still getting flashes of behind his eyelids. How could a Pegasus even start to–

–well, they'd start with the wings, obviously. Everyone knew Pegasus magic started in their wingtips, just like Earth Pony magic came from knots grown in their hooves, and Unicorn magic came from the horn. That didn't mean that wings could make the same effect as–

–or could they? Crabapple had definitely heard of Unicorns moving clouds about. Had anypony tried to make a horn-spell work with wings?

The Princess! The Princess had both wings and horns! Maybe she used both to make her spells more powerful. Could she have hoof–knots too? Was that why she was so much more powerful than anypony else?

Was she more powerful, though? If her magic was wrapped up in makin’ her all princess-y, how much was left for doin’ spells and such? Could a Pony with just wings have more magic around for doin’ some sort of… Pegasus spell?

Crabapple looked back to the sky, where the strange rainbow had been moments before. Had a Pegasus made it? Did they know what they had nearly accomplished; what a breakthrough such a thing could’ve been? Could the effect be replicated? What would it mean, for a non-Unicorn ‘ta produce that sort of magic? If a Pegasus could do it, what if anypony could do it?

What if he could do it?

All of a sudden, Crabapple couldn't stand still. He had to know more– had ‘ta see if anyone else had thought what he was thinkin’. Mr. Goldenrod would know; he got those magazines from Canterlot on the weekly, not ‘ta mention all his books...

He had ‘ta get ‘ta Mr. Goldenrod's house!

“Crabapple!? Where are you goin’!?”

Crabapple didn't bother turning around. “I gotta get to Ponyville, Ma!”

“A-Alright, but take your brother!”

“Yes, Ma!”

‘Tosh wouldn't be out of the way, at least. Crabapple found him as a lazy lump of red hair under his favorite tree.

“Tosh! Tosh! Tosh! Toshtoshtoshtoshtosh!”

Slowly– way too slowly– Big Macintosh blinked the sleep from his eyes. “What's goin’ on?”

“Ma says I gotta take you with me to Ponyville! C'mon we gotta go!”

‘Tosh blinked again– slower, somehow. “Yyyyeah, no.”

“What!?!? Ya can't say no!!”

“Ah just did.”

“Did not! I mean will not! I mean–”

Crabapple did his best to stifle his screams of frustration. He didn't even realize his flailing about until a branch bonked him on the head. It didn't hurt, but it did mean he'd managed ‘ta break a branch off ‘Tosh's favorite tree. He wouldn't be mad about that, right? Crabapple glanced over to his brother…

“Just go, Crabapple. It's mah nappin’ time.”

Well, he had a branch now; and if a stick was good enough for a rock…

“Ow!!”

In the end, all that idea got Crabapple was a branch that did hurt his head. The branch had some leaves on it though. Maybe he could…

It was a few seconds into that idea when Crabapple remembered something very important: ‘Tosh couldn't get tickled by apple leaves.

“Why– won't– you– get up already!?!?!?”

“Not happenin’.”

Hitting ‘Tosh with the branch wasn't working, neither. Apparently, he was just immune to apple trees in general. He wasn't immune to apples, though…

“C'mon ‘Tosh! Git the snack! Giiiiit the snack Toshie–!”

Toshie got the snack, alright; and Crabapple got a muzzle full of branch.

All the easy options had failed. It was time for something a bit more drastic. Crabapple marched ‘ta ‘Tosh's face and forced his eyes open.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

Finally, with a big huff, ‘Tosh dragged himself to his hooves.

“Fine, but Ah'm takin’ my nap when we get there.”

Foal-eyes were a dangerous tool, but always effective.“Thank you thank you thank you!! Now c'mon!!”

‘Tosh still insisted on walkin’ at the speed of day-old molasses, but Crabapple didn't dare complain. Fillies and Colts weren't supposed ‘ta be close ‘ta the Everfree Forest without a buddy who could help ‘em out of trouble, and Sweet Apple Acres was about as close as one got without actually steppin’ hoof in there. If Crabapple tried ‘ta go it alone he'd be monster food, or worse; grounded.

By the time Ponyville was in sight, Crabapple could feel the excitement for his discovery fading. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten an idea stuck in his head. Sometimes they worked out the way the rock un-sticker had, but most of the time whatever he made just… didn't. What if they got ‘ta Mr. Goldenrod's house and found nothing? Crabapple couldn't even remember where he'd heard about the hoof-knots from. Maybe he'd made it up. Maybe Earth Ponies didn't have magic at all.

None of that stopped Crabapple from galloping through town the moment he could. There was only one way ‘ta put the worries to rest, after all.

“Hey little man!”

Crabapple spared a single glance for the lanky stallion rushing up behind him. Hair Clippers was a Unicorn almost old enough to be his Pa, but that didn't stop him from hangin’ out with the school-colts as much as he could. Part of that might've been from how late his cutie mark came in. No one had heard of a Pony taking so long before him. It took so long that Crabapple had been around for the cuteceañera.

“Sorry, Clip! Can't stop to talk!”

“That's alright!” Clippers caught up quick. “Explain on the way!”

“Hi, Crabapple! What's going on?”

Crabapple couldn't tell if the breath he let out was a sigh or a puff. “Howdy, Lyra. Can't talk now.” Crabapple felt a little bad brushing her off like that, especially since she'd come all the way from Canterlot, but Lyra would understand–

“Ok!”

–or she'd just invite herself along. That'd do.

Without any hesitation, Lyra fell into step with Clippers. “Did he tell you what we're doing?”

“Nope! What're we doing, bud?”

Crabapple wasn't exactly sure how to explain everything that'd happened already. He'd already told him he couldn't talk anyway, so he didn't owe them any explanation. Still, Ma did always say it was rude to ignore somepony…

“Wings…hooves…rainbow!!”

“So… a Pegasus?”

“What do we want with a Pegasus?”

Crabapple wanted to correct them, but he'd already galloped all the way ‘ta the middle of town, and the rush he'd felt before was quickly giving ground to a burning in his lungs.

“Mister… Goldenrod…” was about the most he could manage before needing to focus up.

“Wait, who's Mr. Goldenrod?” Lyra asked. “Is he the Pegasus?”

Clippers chuckled. “Definitely not. Mr. Goldenrod runs the schoolhouse. You really haven't met him yet?”

It was then that the three were interrupted by a cart on the road. Crabapple didn't waste a moment crawling under the wheels. He could only assume the others went around.

“Nope!” Lyra continued. “I guess he doesn't get out much.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Goldenrod.” Clippers huffed. “I used to live with him, before he went off and grew a house.”

“Um, don't you mean built a house?”

Clippers’ laughter put a rockslide to shame. “Now I know you haven't met Goldenrod.”

Crabapple could see it now: the great oak Goldenrod had holed himself up in for the summer. Despite being the most eye-catchin’ thing on Mane Street, nopony was paying it any mind. Mr. Goldenrod would take any chance ‘ta talk about his house, and they weren't eager ‘ta give him one.

“Huh.” Lyra muttered. “That's… something.”

Normally, Crabapple wouldn't mind letting his teacher brag; no one else grew house-trees, after all. On that day, however, he'd already dealt with a full set of chores, a stuck plow, some magic questions he really wasn't qualified for, and way too many delays in finding out who was.

Oh, and he was hungry too.

Crabapple was not in the mood for another distraction. The goal was in sight; he needed to work this idea out before it went fuzzy like all the other ones. He couldn't explain it, but this one felt important, like something deep inside would break if it didn't happen.

The three Ponies finally reached their destination. Clippers knelt to the ground to catch his breath, and Lyra gasped a little, but Crabapple just walked up to the door. Now that he wasn't running, he could feel his breath comin’ back under control. By the time his hoof was knockin’, Crabapple could barely tell he'd been running.

“Mr. Goldenrod? Are ya there?”

Crabapple placed one of his ears on the door, hoping to hear some sign of his teacher. Shame that all he could hear was tree.

Crabapple hated when this happened. You were supposed to open the door when somepony was knockin’; that was the rule. There were exceptions o'course; you weren't s'posed to let a stranger in after all. Crabapple wasn't a stranger, though, so there could only be one explanation…

“Clip, Lyra,” Crabapple intoned with deadly calm, “I think Mr. Goldenrod's dead.”

“You… what?”

“Yeah, what?”

“He ain't openin’ the door.” Crabapple explained. “I knocked real loud too, so he's gotta be dead.”

Clippers facehoofed. “Goldenrod isn't dead, Crabapple. He probably just didn't hear you.”

“But he always hears me when I knock! He's dead, I tell ‘ya!”

“Maybe he's just in his basement–”

“–getting squeezed by a giant snake!!”

“–or he's in the kitchen–”

“–being eaten by a manticore!!”

“–or he's sleeping in–”

“–and choking on his pillow!!”

Clippers leveled an impressive glare onto the colt's head. Crabapple weren't proud enough not to shrink under it.

“It could happen…”

“Well, it's nice to know my star pupil thinks so highly of me.”

Crabapple whirled around to find a now open door, and on the other side of it: “Mister Goldenrod!!”

Mr. Goldenrod buffed a hoof against his graying coat. “In the flesh, young one; decidedly alive flesh at that.”

“But you didn't answer the door! I thought something bad happened…”

“Yes,” Mr. Goldenrod chuckled, “I did hear that part. There are no snakes or manticores here, I'm afraid. Although, my pillow has been calling for me…”

Crabapple hopped around nervously. “Don't listen to it, Mr. Goldenrod!! Lyra, go get a doctor! He's hearin’ things!”

“Come now. I'm old, not senile. Surely I've taught you about expressions?”

“Is the pillow usin’ those? I'm tellin’ ‘ya, don't listen to it!”

“Oh, child…”

“So…” Lyra drawled, “should I be getting that doctor or…?”

Mr. Goldenrod raised a hoof determinedly. “Miss Lyra, was it? I assure you no medical aid is needed. My little student simply needs a moment to calm himself.”

“But– but you could've been hurt! There could’ve been a timberwolf or– or–”

It was about then that Crabapple realized he was gettin’ worked up for no reason. If there was anything wrong with Mr. Goldenrod, he would've mentioned it by then.

“Well what took ‘ya so long, then?”

“I'm old,” Mr. Goldenrod huffed, “and my hooves were never made for rushing, besides. Do you know how long it takes to grow a tree of any proper size? Only somepony with supreme patience could guide a tree's growth into being anything more than oddly-shaped firewood. Why, it took me several moons before this oak here was even a sapling.”

As Mr. Goldenrod continued ‘ta ramble on, Lyra trotted closer ‘ta Crabapple.

“Not that this isn't fun and all, but weren't we here for something about Pegasi?”

“Oh yeah...” Crabapple had almost forgotten ‘bout that, what with all the worry-wartin’.

“Now, one sapling is enough if you want to hollow it out. That, however, would kill the tree, leaving your home terribly unstable.”

…and now Mr. Goldenrod was beyond reach.

“Sorry, Lyra. I don't think we're gettin’ ta that any time soon.”

Clip chuckled. “Don't worry; I've got this.”

“So, ideally, you use five saplings; four to be grown as walls and an extra for touch-ups. Now, obviously this model I'm living in uses a few more– Hair Clippers what are you doing?”

“I'm poking you.”

“Yes, I see that, young man. Why, may I ask?”

“You were distracted.”

Mr. Goldenrod scoffed. “I was not distracted. I was making a point.”

“Yeah, I think you made that point five minutes ago.”

“It hasn't even been five minutes since I opened the door!”

“Mr. Goldenrod,” Crabapple cut in, “I know yer’ wild for all this tree-house research you've done, but I've got a question and I really need some answers.”

“Ah, well,” Mr. Goldenrod sputtered, “we should get right to that, then. Please, come in.”

As Crabapple was ushered in, he couldn't help thinkin’ it was all a mite plain. Sure, the tree was nifty lookin’ from the outside, but Mr. Goldenrod hadn't decorated inside except ‘ta put his prized collection of tomes up on his shelves. Crabapple weren't one ‘ta judge, though. All he had in his room was a bed and a desk of broken farm equipment.

“So,” Mr. Goldenrod started, “is it another independent research project? I suppose I am the pony to see about such things.”

“Yep!” Crabapple exclaimed. “I need everything you've got on the three Pony races!”

Mr. Goldenrod hummed. “Well, that's a bit vague. Were you hoping for an equipology reference? An anatomy primer? Perhaps a collection of fables from the divided tribes of yore?”

“All of it!! Also, anythin’ you have on Unicorn magics, rainbows, and– heck, why not– tree growin’!”

“Well, that is quite a lot; and in especially divergent fields I might add. What do any of these things have to do with each other?”

“Yeah.” Clippers piped in. “I still don't know what you're doing this for.”

“And what does any of this have to do with a pegasus!?”

Lyra was right ‘ta be confused; Crabapple had been doin’ more word-tossin’ than real explanations on the way over.

“Alright, alright, I'll tell ‘ya; but y'all gotta promise not go spreadin’ it around. I don't want a repeat of the horn-trimmers.”

“Hey!” Clippers protested. “The horn-trimmers were great! It's not our fault Honkin’ Rich tried to sell them as hooficures for foals.”

“Hooficures for foals.” Mr. Goldenrod muttered. “What will that shameful stallion think of next?”

“All of that's besides the point, folks!” Crabapple stamped his hoof. “I don't wan'ta be responsible for another gizmo or doodad puttin’ somepony in the hospital. That means whatever happens here can't leave. If ‘ya can't handle that, ‘ya might as well go now.”

Mr. Goldenrod raised a single, shaggy eyebrow.

“Home owner excluded, I guess...”

“No telling; got it.” Lyra pulled a book off the shelves with her magic. “Now, are we doing this or not?”

Instead of answering, Crabapple turned to look at Clippers.

Clippers sighed. “Alright, fine, but I reserve the right to tell your parents if this gets someone hurt.”

Crabapple probably wouldn't be gettin’ better than that. “Fair ‘nuff. Let's keep it to just them, if we can.

As Mr. Goldenrod and Lyra started pulling relevant books down, Crabapple got to explainin’. He started with the freaky rainbow and worked his way down until everything was out there.

“...and then Ma said ‘ta bring ‘Tosh, but it's his nappin’ time. Still got him out here, but I think he fell asleep on a bush.”

“Bench, actually.” Clippers added. “I saw him plodding towards one.”

Mr. Goldenrod hummed. “I believe I'm familiar with this “rainbow” phenomenon you described. If I recall…”

In no time, the four Ponies were up to their ears in research. It didn't take long for them ‘ta find an explanation for what Crabapple had seen. Apparently, some Pegasus named Flash Magnus had done something similar in the Pre-celestial Era. Granted, it was a reference to a book in the royal library buried under pages of speculation on how manufactured rainbows affected weather patterns, but it was somethin’.

The technique was referred to as a “sonic rainboom”, and that was all they had.

Research on the other two tribes was a mite more fruitful; probably because they had Unicorns and Earth Ponies workin’ through more familiar material. Once Crabapple had the right books in front of him, it was easy ‘ta find the relevant information.

Crabapple had only been half right about the hoof-knots. Apparently, Ponies had somethin' called “nodes”, which allowed the natural magic within them to flow outward into the world. Earth Ponies had nodes in their hooves, three in each, which helped with makin’ things grow. Pegasi also had hoof nodes for walkin’ on clouds, but only one per hoof.

Mr. Goldenrod found a medical textbook describing a condition called flutterhoof; where a Pegasi's hoofs would sink deeper into a cloud due ‘ta any number of problems with their nodes. The Pegasi like that still had wing nodes, and internal magic besides, so they could walk on thicker clouds just fine.

Unicorns were a bit different from the other two in the fact that they didn't have hoof nodes at all. Instead, all their nodes were jammed into the horns on their heads. Even more odd were the variations between horns. Some were recorded ‘ta have as many as twenty nodes, while others barely had one. The medical textbook spoke of a case where a filly was born with an uncountable mess of nodes, only ‘ta lose all but three as her horn grew in. It was all really nifty stuff–

“Craaaaabapple! I'm boooored!”

–though somepony seemed to disagree.

“You're the one who wanted ‘ta come, Lyra. Nopony’s gonna keep ya here if yer wantin’ ‘ta get out.

“But I don't wanna go!” Lyra whined. “I want to see you make something!”

“Like what?”

“I don't know! You're the idea pony! Can't you think of something?”

Well, there was one big idea takin’ shape in Crabapple's noggin, but it would still need a couple parts.

“Does anypony have a triangle-shaped gem?”

Mr. Goldenrod scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I believe I just might. What do you need it for?”

“Y’know how Unicorns push magic between their nodes to do spells?”

“Yes, continue.”

“Well, I was wonderin’ why I couldn't do the same. Then I r’membered that there's a whole lotta empty air in the shortest distance between my hoof nodes.”

“I'm following you so far.”

“So, If I could fill that space with somethin’ magic conductive…”

“...then you could move your magic just like a Unicorn horn!” Mr. Goldenrod stamped his hooves excitedly. “Why, that is simply inspired! I'll get you that gem at once!”

As Mr. Goldenrod rushed off to some other room, Crabapple turned to the two Unicorns in the room. “What's the simplest spell you know?”

“Levitation!”

“Glowing.”

The two Unicorns gave each other skeptical glances for a moment, before Lyra stamped her hoof determinedly.

“Glowing isn't a spell. It's a side effect at best.”

Clippers lit up his horn as if in protest. “Well if he can't glow, then how's he going to levitate something?”

“If he's not trying to levitate something then how's he gonna glow!?”

“You don't start with a full spell, Lyra! That's just asking for trouble!”

“That's not how we did it at school!”

“Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize your school had a curriculum for teaching Earth Ponies magic!!”

“Shut up!!”

“You first!!”

“No, you!!”

“No, you!!”

“You!!”

“You!!”

“You!!!”

“Hair Clippers!” Mr. Goldenrod called out from the other room. “Are you honestly picking a fight with a filly?”

“I'll pick a fight with every filly in Ponyville if I have to!!”

The room went deathly silent at that proclamation.

“Okay, that might have come out wrong.”

“Gee, you think?”

“Can ya'll please do this another time?” Crabapple asked as Mr. Goldenrod re-emerged from wherever he was keeping gems. “Doctor Foalheart is only in ‘till three, and I really don't want whatever might happen gettin’ around to anypony else.”

Nopony seemed to have any objections, so Crabapple got to properly fittin’ the orange gem Mr. Goldenrod had brought back. It was a pretty good fit, actually; went right up to where nodes were on the diagram without digging into his hoof too hard. Crabapple could've sworn he felt something when the gem clicked into place.

“So do I just… think really hard?”

By some unspoken agreement, Lyra was the one ‘ta respond. “Kinda. If you want to levitate something you need to focus really hard on that one thing. Once you get your magic moving around it’ll just sort of… reach out.”

Crabapple figured it wasn't gonna get much clearer than that. This weren't exactly pullin’ rocks off plows or turnin’ old shovels into little toys. Whatever happened next was going to be completely new.

The excitement was almost too much ‘ta handle. Crabapple did his best to put that aside and focus on a small book he'd been browsing earlier, but his head kept swirling about on other things. What would it mean, if he could make this work? Could he teach Ma and Pa to do magic? What about Ginger and ‘Tosh? How well could they run the orchard with a bunch of spells behind ‘em?

“Come on, Crabapple! You can do it!”

Right. Lyra. Doin’ magic. He should get on that.

With a lot more effort than it should've taken, Crabapple put his full focus on the book. Almost too faint ‘ta tell, he felt somethin’ slowly moving around his hoof through the gem. Now that he was focused on it, the feeling drew itself into clarity. Something was moving through the gem, bouncing back and forth until it swirled down into the ground.

That wasn't right. He didn't want it fading into the floor; he wanted it on the book. Crabapple raised his hoof and focused back on the book. That book was good. That book was important. That was the book he wanted to move. Sluggishly at first, but gaining speed, the feeling in his hoof flowed out the gem and into the air. It kept trying to break apart, to fade into nothing, but Crabapple didn't let it. With every whirl of the magic inside his gem, he pushed with something he wasn't sure existed.

For one single, blissful moment, there was no resistance; no name hanging over his head, no brother waitin’ on him to go home, no tree full of excited ponies, or gem filled to bursting with magic. There was only a colt, a book, and the will to move.

With the faintest haze of orange light, the book rose.

Suddenly, everything came crashing back on him. He was Crabapple again, stuck with a broken name and a family waiting for him to come home. It was only a little past lunch, but Crabapple felt like he could've eaten a full dinner just about then.

“Crabapple…”

Crabapple turned towards the voice, but Clippers wasn't lookin’ at him. No one was lookin’ at him, actually. Feelin’ a little nervous, he turned his head to see–

They say that when something truly special happens, all who witness it can tell.

That day, in the hollow of an oak, four ponies witnessed something never done before. Three of them witnessed a young colt find something special, a talent belonging only to himself. The colt witnessed the culmination of his few years of life, and felt something rising up his barrel.

“Oh, no.”

As it turned out, that something was lunch.

***

Pinkamena Diane Pie had never been the best rock farmer. Her parents always said she lacked patience, but that wasn't really true. Pinkie Pie could be reeeeeealy patient when she was waiting for breakfast, or waiting for Limestone to let her brush her teeth. She could be patient with the rocks, with the dirt, even with herself!

Nothing, though, was very hard to be patient with.

A whole lot of nothing had been going around recently, and Pinkie had juuuuust about ran out of patience. Both Granny and Nana Pinkie had taught her a lot about what to do when you're out of patience, but they were gone now, and everything was so much harder without them.

Some days, Pinkie wished she could be like her Nana; traveling all of equestria armed with nothing but a rusty pie pan and the family wits. The family wits had been telling Pinkie to stay home, though, so home she stayed.

Things were just a biiiiit different now.

When that big, colorful something had come through, Pinkie knew she had to act. This was exactly why the wits wanted her to stay home; so she could share all that color and life with her family. It would be a lot of work, but Pinkie was confident she could have everyone smiling by sunrise.

Then the second thing had come and sent her a-twitching.

Pinkie wasn't sure what to make of the second thing yet. It hadn't been the sort of thing you could see, but Pinkie had still felt it in that place that usually meant “Danger! Danger! Run away!” but today meant “Wow, that's neat! We should take a look!”.

Honestly, it was kiiiiinda tempting to go looking for it right now. If she was super fast, Pinkie could be there and back with enough time to get everything ready for tomorrow. It would be easy too; just follow her wits and then follow them back home.

There was something holding her back, though; something she'd never really felt before. Pinkie would never admit it, but that feeling was making her a little nervous. It wasn't the fake sort of nervous, either; like when she pretended to be scared by one of Maude’s stories. It was the bad, yucky kind of nervous that she could never ever let anyone else know about.

There was real worry in her tummy, and Pinkie Pie wasn't sure what to do about it.

Oh well! Whatever it was it could wait. This Pony had a party to plan!!

Author's Note

Alright! This is the first work I've published online, so I hope you like it. Crabapple's got a long journey ahead of him, and I can't wait to share it with you! I probably won't update regularly, but I'll still be working on this whenever the words can make their way to my fingers.

Original characters this chapter:

Apple Pudding: Didn't actually appear here, but we might see more of her in the future. The Oranges, unfortunately, will not be be gracing us with their presence.
Hair Clippers: The name is my creation, but I'm working off of a pony that appears in one episode of the show. I'd be genuinely shocked if anyone finds him with what little information I've given so far.
Mr. Goldenrod: This eccentric grandpa is Ponyville's current teacher. Cheerilee isn't old enough to be a teacher yet, so we get this scatterbrain instead. He lives in a tree?? Wherever do I get these ideas?
Pinkie Pie: Not my creation, but she wanted to be included. Everyone say hi to Pinkie!!

Let me know your honest opinion so I can improve my writing. Then you can give me more feedback on my improvements. It's a positive feedback loop!

Well, that's all I got for now. See you on the dial tone!