What My Cutie Mark is Telling Me

Pinkamina had never known how far her home was from Vanhoover. Night had fallen, the moon being her only company. She walked on an old, trodden path through rocky dirt. Her case felt heavy by now, and she had been forced to leave a few things behind a while back. Wearily, she walked on, her stomach groaning with pangs of hunger, but she did her best to ignore it. Occasionally taking out the apple, she would consider eating it, but she would always end up sighing and putting it away.

Walking had always given her mind space to wander, and right now was no exception. She thought back to earlier that day. How the turn of events had come to be, in which her life had gone awry. She would never have thought that she would do something so crazy in her life. She chuckled at the thought of Granny Pie saying that Pinkamena was special.

She had always wondered about what her cutie mark would be, getting excited every time, but this wasn’t what she had planned. She had not planned to have to lose her family because of it. But if this was her true destiny, who was she to argue?

Pinkamina reached the top of a hill, and up ahead she saw something spectacular. The city lights were beautiful, like little stars shining nonstop. She had never seen something like this. Pinkamena began to trot quickly, eager to arrive, but soon a realization came to her. Where was she going? What was she going to do? Pinkamena didn’t have any other known relatives and she had never left the farm. ‘I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.’

Thirty minutes later, she arrived at the city of Vanhoover. The city was paved with tall buildings and shining lights. Pinkamena had never seen so many ponies. They walked the streets talking to each other, chatting and laughing. She stood wide-eyed, so many ponies, of so many colors. She continued walking and saw a blue balloon pass her. She watched it for awhile and continued.

Normally a little filly would have been frightened, but for some reason Pinkamena didn’t feel that way. The crowds of ponies walking and laughing together somehow comforted her. The sounds of their laughing made her grin as if she herself had heard a joke. Whether the ponies were in a club, partying, or just strolling the nighttime streets, the sense of life and happiness helped Pinkamena forget her woes.

After some time of exploring the city, her legs began to feel heavy. Pinkamena walked until she found a hotel. She pulled out her bag and counted her bits. ‘Not enough’ she thought after looking at a sign with prices. With no other option, she walked into an alley and looked around. She found a box big enough for her. Pinkamena entered and pulled out her gray scarf from her case. Wrapping it around herself, she fell asleep, occasionally waking to stirs of alley cats or rats.

Next morning she awoke. At first she was confused, but memories flashed back to her head. Sadness filled her, but then hunger replaced it. Opening the suitcase she picked up the apple as evil ideas from her hunger came to her. She was about to bite when she heard voices from outside the alley.

“But I don’t like mustard!” a young colt cried.

“Then why didn’t you tell me!?” a mare answered.

“I-I don’t know!” he sobbed.

“Fine just throw it away,” she said.

Something in a wrapper hit her box and landed in front of her hooves. Pinkamina opened the wrapper to find an uneaten tofu dog with mustard. Wiping off the mustard, she quickly swallowed it. She combed back her straight pink mane and walked out with her suitcase. Her eyes widened. Vanhoover was beautiful by day too, even with no flickering lights, the skyscrapers’ shiny surfaces reflected colors onto the pavement .

She began walking and looking around. After several minutes of aimless trotting, she came upon a park. Her eyes widened as she saw the flora within. She began running, her case constantly hitting her chest as she ran in.

Dropping her case, she gawked, open-jawed at the beauty surrounding her. Her head span to take in all the sights. Even in the northern cold weather, the grass felt warm, a gentle breeze lifting her mane. The trees, vibrant and bright, stood over her as guardians of life and nature. She hid her case in a bush and ran to a patch of flowers. Happily she smelled them, her nose hungrily taking in every whiff. Finally, after trotting to and fro in euphoria, she fell to the grass, rolling in its warmth. She smelled the earthy moistness and sighed.

Upon opening her eyes again, she saw a filly’s head looking at her from above.

“Are you okay?” the filly asked, tilting her head.

Pinkamena rolled over and sat up. “Yeah.” She grinned.

The filly giggled. “In that case, Hi! I’m Daisy Drops, what’s your name?”

“Hi, i’m Pinkamena!” She answered at her new company.

“Do you wanna play?” Daisy asked, jumping in place.

Pinkamena grinned, nodding her head. Her sisters never wanted to play, so for her this was new. Together they ran further into the park, playing tag and chasing butterflies. They picked flowers and put them in their manes, Daisy being rather happy with braiding them into Pinkamena’s long pink mane. At one point Daisy had began to call her by Pinkie, but Pinkamena didn’t mind. She liked the sound of it. Pinkie sounded nice and friendly.

It was late in the afternoon when, from a distance, a mare’s voice called out, “Daisy, where are you?”

Daisy stopped running and called out, “Over here, mommy!”

The mare came into view and waved at her daughter. “Is this your new friend?” She said, looking at Pinkamena. The filly nodded her head, looking at Pinkamena.

“Well it’s time to go, say goodbye.” Her mother smiled.

“Bye Pinkie!” The filly giggled. “Maybe we can play tomorrow!”

Pinkamena agreed and watched as the mare put the filly on her back and flew home, the giggling filly holding tight.

Pinkamena sat there awhile after they left. She felt lonely now. Having watched the mother reminded her of her own. The pain in her heart returned, “Ma probably made dinner, they should be eating now.” Pinkamena’s stomach rumbled, the day of play had given her an appetite. She walked back to the bush she had hidden her case in.

Pinkamena retrieved her case and walked out of the park, as to where she would go, she knew not. She just began to wander again. Her hunger persisted and gnawed at her. As she walked, a shop’s window caught her eye. She stopped and looked at it.

The window showed pastries of all kinds, with rainbows of frosting. She closed her eyes, breathing in the warm scent.

“Would you like a free sample?” a mare asked.

Pinkamena turned around to see a mare levitating a tray with cupcakes. Eagerly nodding Pinkamena took one and ate it in a bite.

The mare looked at her and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Here have another,” she said and levitated another to Pinkamena.

Pinkamena beamed and took it, this time eating it slower, enjoying the sweet taste. Ma only ever made raisin bread. The toasty sponge warmed her mouth as the sweet frosting enlightened her tastebuds. She grinned at the delicate taste, never before had Pinkie tasted such sweetness. Licking the last crumbs, she thanked the mare and walked away.

Night fell again, and ponies began to come out to enjoy the night’s festivities. But Pinkamena was too tired. Slowly, she began to search for a place to sleep for the night. She came to a train station and, looking around, she found a rusty train car. The door was barely big enough for her. She pulled out her scarf and apple, leaving her case hidden in a bush nearby. She would sleep in the cart and get it tomorow. Squeezing through the slit, she went in. The cart was damp and dark, with only a sliver of moonlight. Pinkamena stumbled around until she found a pile of musty hay. Shifting into the the stack, hugging the apple, she hid with only her muzzle poking out.

A sudden jolt awoke her in the middle of the night. The train car had begun to move, so she quickly jumped out of the hay. Pushing her head through the slit, she watched as the train car began to gain speed. The train car had been connected at some point to a train. In a matter of moments the bush with her case was nothing but a blur. The train continued to gain speed, her flat hair whipping in the breeze as her few possessions diminished into the distance. There was nothing she could do now, there was no way to exit without injury. Sadly, she returned to the musty hay and fell asleep, snuggling the apple.

A ribbon of light hit her eyes as she awoke. She squinted at the light in her face and got up, rubbing her eyes. The train continued to roar on the tracks. Her stomach grumbled with dull aches of pain. It had been a long while since she had enjoyed a full meal. She missed her mother's casseroles, flavorless or not.

Pinkamena looked around, and stopped at the hay she slept in. The hay was too musty and had mold in some corners, to rotten to eat. She picked up her apple, noticing that it had become darker and bruised, it would no longer last. Her salvation and doom, and it had come to its end. With sadness, she bit into it. It tasted bland and warm in her dry mouth. It tasted rundown and dead. “I guess this is the end...” She sighed, again biting into the soft apple. She looked at it again and noticed a single seed. Pulling it out, she placed it in her bag with her bits and finished the apple.

She sat the edge of the car, her head poking out. Her hair snapped about in the wind, occasionally causing her to lose her vision. She watched as she passed lush grassy fields swaying in the breeze, soaring mountain ranges blocking the sunlight momentarily, their high peaks snow capped, long rivers carving the earth in hundred year old paths. Never had she seen so much beauty in her life. These were things only mentioned and told, but never seen. The sun glowed brightly, casting its warm and loving glow over Equestria, shading the valleys and forests. How could these marvels have evaded her? Truly now, her rock farm had held her from so many things. Her wanderings in the dry forest had changed her life.

She felt a liberty in her heart, her pains flying into the wind, dead leaves no longer weighing her down. Her branches would look bare for she had no family, but with time new, more glorious leaves would grow in their place.

The train continued its journey throughout the whole day, taking her to the next chapter of her new life. The ride was long and her muscles would ache, but never did she tire. Pinkamena knew that this was her destiny, wherever it might lead.

It was late afternoon when she couldn’t stand the hunger again. It came to her stomach, groaning, eating at her insides, taking away her ability to think of anything else. Wobbly from the train’s motion and lack of a real meal, she carried herself to the pile of hay. Digging through it with shaky hooves, she pulled out strands that looked cleaner and had no mold. The hay was dry and smelled like mothballs. It tickled her throat as she chewed, softly crunching it between her teeth. Finally, when she could stand no more of the taste and the groans had subsided, she lay on the hay, trying to wash the taste out with her saliva.

Celestia lowered her sun, making way for the young moon. The moon’s soft glow lit a section of the floor where the door was open. She sat in the moonlight. Pinkamena took off her bag, and looked at her possessions. Her gray scarf, a few bits, and the seed. Putting the seed and bits back in the bag, she put the bag and scarf on. How quickly she had lost so many things. Not only her material things, but others, like her family, her home and the only ponies she knew. And for what, a cutie mark? A tree? She pounded her hoof on the floor. “Why!? Why did this happen!?” She cried into the wind. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, and she fell asleep. Pinkamena might have been a tree unburdened by dead leaves, but she certainly didn’t feel like a living one yet. More like a bare trunk still waiting for new life.

Next morning she awoke, combing her hooves through her dishevelled mane and stretching to relieve her hunger-cramped muscles. She sat at the edge for a long time after brushing and stretching. The sun was high in the sky when the train began to scale a mountain, Pinkamena marvelling as it ascended. Up ahead she could see a towering city. High pillars and turrets that forced her to crane her neck. Gleaming buildings and domes, flags flying in the breeze. Several minutes later, it slowed down into a station. At a full stop, she pushed through and jumped out, careful not be seen. She squinted in the light after having been in her darkness so long. Pinkamena climbed the stairs of the platform and looked around. The floors and wall were of white stone, with ponies dressed in stately outfits were walking around. Looking up, she saw a sign reading ‘Canterlot Train Station’.

Pinkamena gazed at the glory in front of her. The white stone towers and arches, the glossy marble pillars and floors. White limestone carved into turrets and decorative domes, an Equestrian flag flying in the breeze at the tip of the highest. Her father would have fainted at the sight.

She made her way to a bench and sat, taking in the glory of the capital. Her stomach moaned, and a wave of nausea hit her. She closed her eyes, putting her head to the cool wall behind her. Pinkamena let the coolness be absorbed as she waited for the disgust to leave her.

She felt another pony sit next to her. She opened her eyes to see a filly her age sat alongside her. The filly had a nothing but a handkerchief bag on a stick. She kept mumbling to herself with worry on her face. Pinkamena didn’t like to see her frowning, even if she didn’t know her.

“Is something wrong?” Pinkamena asked.

The filly turned to her, “It’s just that ah’m gonna see ma relatives in Manehattan, and ah’m more nervous than a worm on apple-cider making day,” she said. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Well, you’ll never know ‘till you get there, just get there and smile. Smiling makes everything better.” Pinkamena remembered Granny telling her that.

The filly smiled weakly. A train whistled in the distance as a call for Manehattan was made.

“That’s mine, thank yah.” The filly said with a wave of farewell and trotted of.

Pinkamena waved back and got up. She left the train station and wandered through the streets of Canterlot. The ponies all around her walked with noses in the air and looks of superiority written across their features. As she continued to walk, she felt herself become heavier, and a constant shiver came to her. Even though the sun heated the city, rays of warm light bouncing from its white walls, Pinkamena couldn’t stay warm. She wrapped her scarf closer to herself, trying to hold back the shivering. Occasionally her vision would blur and she would find herself on the floor.

The dull ache of hunger came again. She pulled out her bits and looked around. She arrived at a doughnut shop. A light amber colt with green eyes stood behind the counter.

Pinkamena used her only bits to buy a doughnut and walked off. She sat on bench and devoured it in few bites. Suddenly, nausea hit her again and she ran to the nearest trash can to release the doughnut.

Her body shivered again as a headache began to develop. Trembling, she got up and again began to walk through the streets. Everywhere she went, ponies looked at her with disgust and lifted their noses at her. She came to a mirror in front of a shop and looked at herself.

Her coat was dirty and her pink mane a mess. She looked pale and frail. She had bags under her eyes and looked no more than a street urchin.

She meandered through the city looking for something, anything. Pinkamena trotted shakily through the city, shivering every step, even under the glow of the sun. Arriving at a fountain, she gulped the cool water down, fighting back disgust.

“Hey young filly, hold on there.” A voice called out.

Pinkamena looked back to see a guard walking towards her, his tall figure and sharp spear looking menacing. PInkamena immediately began to run away, the guard running behind her. She swerved through the streets, crashing into ponies, trying to hide. Had she done something bad? Another guard joined him in calling out to her. But Pinkamena continued to gallop, with every step her head aching more. She reached the the entry gate of Canterlot and ran out of the city. Quickly, she hid in a nearby bush. The guards stopped at the gate looking for her, but soon left to search elsewhere.

She got out of the bush and stood panting, trying to catch her breath. Now that she no longer could return to the city, she gradually walked down the path away from Canterlot. Pinkamena knew not in which direction she headed, only following the path. She could no longer control her shaking and her headache began to blind her, stopping any thought. Down the the road she trod, trying to ignore the pain. Several times she had to run to a bush, only to retch, the taste of rotten hay in her mouth. As she walked the path she would stumble into blackness, having to pick herself up. After walking for some time she came to a hill with a sign, welcoming her to ’Ponyville’.

With slow, steps she continued walking. Her heart beat heavily, and she continued to black out, but quickly regained her steps. At last she arrived at the small town. All around ponies walked, chatting and laughing, in their own world.

Pinkamena walked through the streets of the village, trying to keep her head down. But with every step her vision became less and less, and her hooves felt more and more like lead weights. Her loss of vision came to a point where she hit something soft. Even the gentle blow was too much for her tenuous consciousness. She fainted, and the last thing she saw was a red figure standing over her.