What My Cutie Mark is Telling Me

It was warm, she was comfortable, there was something cold on her forehead. It smelled like apples, apples and warmth. Slowly, Pinkamena opened her eyes, and warm light blinded her. An ice pack rested on her forehead and a blanket atop her. The quilt felt snug and soft, the apple-patterned quilt hugged her weak body. But she did not know where she was, so with much struggle she sat up, her knees shaking in the process. She sat up weakly, the ice pack falling off of her. Her vision blurred, but finally settled. Looking around, she found herself in a bedroom. It was a simple room with a bed and nightstand. A small desk and a window. She looked towards the door.

At that moment she heard hoofsteps, and a pony stood at the door. A lanky red colt, who seemed to trip over his newly long legs looked at her stunned. His eyes widened as they exchanged a stare.

“Hi,” Pinkamena said.

“Granny!” the colt screamed, horrified, and ran out.

Pinkamena sat there as she heard an exchange of voices outside the bedroom and a pair of hoofsteps were heard again. An old green mare came into the room, followed by the colt hiding behind her.

“You feelin’ better youngin’?” the mare asked caringly.

“Yeah... where am I?”

“This here’s Sweet Apple Acres.” she answered proudly.

Pinkamena looked around the room again as if the room itself was the entirety of the said place. “How’d I get here?”

“I was sittin’ in the kitchen when Little Mac burst in with you on his back crying that he had killed somepony. Ain’t that right Little Mac?” she replied, turning to the colt hiding behind her. The colt didn’t respond.

The old mare walked over to Pinkamena and put her head to her forehead. “Yer fever has gone down...yah hungry?”

Pinkamena nodded as her stomach agreed, she thought back to the last meal she had with her family. It felt so long ago now.

“Come downstairs youngin’, made apple pie.” The old mare pulled the blankets off the filly and helped her off the bed.

Pinkamena got off the bed and wobbled in her place. She took a few shaky steps, Lil’ Mac noticed this, and putting aside his fear, walked to her from behind the mare. He stood next to Pinkamena, giving support. She smiled at him as they walked out of the room to the stairs just outside the hall. They walked downstairs, Pinkamena leaning on the colt the whole way down. At times she would lose her footing and would have to put more weight on the colt. They came into a large living room and was led to a dining room. Lil’ Mac helped her sit down at a chair and quickly stood away from her.

“Let me go get tha pie.” The old mare said and walked out, leaving the two foals alone.

Pinkamena looked at the red colt again and smiled, he responded by lowering his ears and shrinking.

“What’s wrong? Ah ain’t gonna bite” Pinkamena smiled encouragingly.

Lil’ Mac examined the pink filly. He lifted his ears back and took a small step towards her, his small thin frame shaking. He looked at her again, she continued to grin at him.

Pinkamena giggled. “You're funny,” She giggled. “Wanna be friends?”

At this Lil’ Mac looked at her quizzically, unsure of what he had heard. He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Granny Smith returning, a pie balanced on her back.

“Lil’ Mac, sit down, let’s have some pie.” she motioned to her grandson. “Yah ain’t allergic to anything are yah?” Granny Smith asked Pinkamena.

Pinkamena shook her head as the old mare served the foals and gave herself a slice. “So youngin’, what’s yer name?”

Pinkamena put down her fork and looked at the two ponies. “Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

The two farm ponies raised an eyebrow at the extensive name. They repeated the name simultaneously. Pinkamena didn’t like how her name sounded coming from them. She had always felt fine with her name, but it sounded wrong now. With their slow southern drawl the name sounded forced and too gaudy. That name was the name of a pony who needed an interesting name to replace their uninteresting life and she didn’t want to be uninteresting. She had left because she didn’t like uninteresting. No, she wanted to be interesting, special, something else.

“B-but you can call me Pinkie Pie.” she gave a weak smile.

The old mare smiled, “Well then, Pinkie Pie, eat up, yah need yer strength.”

Pinkie liked how this name sounded, yes, this was her name now, Pinkie Pie. She nodded and dug into the dessert. Pinkie Pie was a good name for an interesting pony.

The pie was delicious. The warm apple slices, sweetened with cinnamon, tingled on her tongue. The crust was warm and and fluffy. The moist crust and sweet apples combined together to make a perfect combination that she had never experienced before. Pinkie smiled and finished the pie in a bite. Crumbs stuck to her lips but soon were gone with a swish of her tongue.

“May I please have more?” Pinkie asked, pushing over her plate.

Granny Smith passed her another slice, as Little Mac still picked at his first slice. “When’s the last time yah ate?”

“Umm... ah don’t know, a couple days?” PInkie questioned herself.

“Now why in Celestia’s name is that?” Granny asked.

“Well, there was nothing to eat.” Pinkie frowned.

“Young filly, there is grass everywhere. If worst come to worst, why didn’ you eat that?” Granny reprimanded.

Pinkie looked at her confused, “A-Ah didn’t know you could eat grass.”

At this response Mac looked at Pinkie incredulously. “Yah didn’t know?”

Pinkie shrugged. “At home nothing grows, really. So I only eat things that last long, like hay or oatmeal. I’d never really had anything fresh.”

“Well Pinkie, if it’s green eat it.” Granny finalized. “So, Pinkie Pie, where are yah from?”

“A little north of Vanhoover.” Pinke answered as she took another piece off her plate, this time savoring it.

“That’s quite the distance, come here with yer family?” Granny asked.

Pinkie looked at Granny Smith and lowered her eyes. “A-ah came on my own.”

Granny Smith looked at the filly with knowing eyes. She saw pain in her blue eyes, their shine was gone as the crumb-filled lips quivered in a frown. Granny Smith understood the filly was hiding a wound that was still healing.

“Well... we have a spare room...” Granny said in a soft tone.

Pinkie looked up, ears perking as confusion showed on her face. “Do y-yah mean I can stay with you?”

Granny Smith nodded. Lil’ Mac dropped his fork, softly clinking on the plate. His eyes widened as he looked between his granny and the now smiling filly. “B-but Granny, where she gonna sleep?”

“In the spare room,” she answered.

“It’s not spare! It belongs tah-” he cried.

“Pinkie Pie.” Granny interrupted matter-of-factly.

Lil’ Mac frowned. A foal’s cry was heard up stairs. He hopped off the seat, hooves clopping loudly on the floor. “Apple Bloom's awake.” He grumbled and went upstairs. Pinkie watched him climb the steps, his small hooves angrily thudding up the stairs.

“Is he okay? Did ah do something?” Pinkie asked.

“Nah, just needs tah get use to another mare in the house. How ‘bout ah introduce you to the youngest apple?” Granny Smith smiled.

“Okay, Granny Smith.”

“Sugarcube, since yah live under this house yer family. Call me Granny.”

Pinkie nodded happily and headed upstairs with Granny.

They headed to one of the rooms, and as they got closer Pinkie could hear a baby’s coo. They entered the room, inside a small yellow foal sat on the floor reaching for a toy held by a smiling Lil’ Mac. Pinkie ran up to the foal, startling the colt. He dropped the toy, allowing the foal to reach it and place it in her mouth.

The filly was yellow with a red mane. She had a big pink bow in it and big black eyes. The foal looked at the new pony and giggled. Pinkie began to make silly faces, making the baby laugh even more.

“This here’s Apple Bloom.” Granny told the filly who was preoccupied making the foal giggle.

Mac tried to hold a frown at the pink pony, but had trouble as he watched his little sister grab at Pinkie’s mane.

“Pinkie dear, that room yah slept in is yer room now, yer bag’s in there. Ah gotta go do some chores. Lil’ Mac why don’t yah put Apple Bloom in her play pen and show Pinkie around the farm?” Granny Smith went downstairs as Apple Bloom bit into Pinkie’s tail.

Lil’ Mac unclamped the foal from Pinkie’s tail, a sinew of drool hanging from her mouth. He hoisted her onto his back and led Pinkie downstairs.

Lil’ Mac led her through the farm, showing her everything. At first he tried telling her the purpose, but quickly realized she was hardly listening. Instead he allowed her to bounce from place to place figuring it out on her own. She ran through the barn playing in the hay piles, occasionally munching on a piece. She climbed to the hay loft, nearly falling over in her haste, giving Lil’ Mac a heart attack. Upon encountering the various animals on the farm, dozens of questions streamed from her mouth. Mac tried his best to answer whatever he could decipher. Penultimately he took her to a carrot-themed building on a hill. She began chatting again, and with a roll of his eyes he grabbed her head and made her look forward.

Pinkie’s eyes shined at what she saw. Miles upon and miles of growing apple trees reached into the horizon, extending unknown distances, each in parallel lines, their apples like precious gems shining in the sunlight, ripe and ready for picking. Apples of every kind spotted the trees. Ruby red, emerald green and sunshine yellow apples grew in symmetrical seas of green leaves.

“This is all of Sweet Apple Acres?” She asked wide-eyed.

“Eeyup.”

“Where are we going now?” She asked as Lil’ Mac led her down the hill.

He stayed quiet and led her deep into the trees. They walked for several minutes, Pinkie gazing at each tree. Finally they reached a large tree with spread-out branches. Between its branches lay a clubhouse. A wooden ramp connected the grass and building. Before Lil’ Mac could tell her where they had arrived, Pinkie ran up the ramp as quickly as her short legs would take her.

Mac ran in after her. She trotted around the small room, the room itself was almost empty, with only an end table near its only window. There was nothing really special about this place, but nonetheless Pinkie looked around with a grin.

“OHMYGOSHISTHISYOURCLUBHOUSE! LIKESOMESUPERSECRETFORT! WOW! ANDTHISISALLYOURS?” She gushed.

“Eeyup.” He said, hoping his answer would satisfy all her questions.

“WOW! THISCOULDBEOURFORT! ITCANBEAPIRATESHIPORACASTLE! OR-ORSLEEPHEREONENIGHTANDTELLGHOSTSTORIESANDEATSMORESORSTAYUPALLNIGHT!” She continued.

Lil’ Mac reached an apple from the outside the window and stuffed it into her mouth. She began chewing and swallowed it.

“This is delicious!” She ran to the window and began pulling apples. She swallowed them in large bites. Mac stood stunned, how could such a little filly fit so many apples?

“Yer gonna finish all the braeburns.” He interrupted.

She finished the last apple. “Sorry,” she giggled. “Braeburns?” she asked looking at the apples hanging from the tree.

“Eeyup, that’s a braeburn.” He led her outside and pointed to trees in the distance. “Big Macintoshes, Golden Delicious and Granny Smiths.” He said indicating to several groups of trees in the horizon.

“Wow how many types is there?” Pinkie asked looking at the acres.

“More than 7500 kinds.”

“I’m gonna learn all their names...”

A few days later, Pinkie sat in the living room playing with Apple Bloom and Mac. “Did yer family plant all the trees?” Pinkie asked him as she tried to pull her tail out of Apple Bloom’s mouth for the third time that day.

“Eeyup.” Mac answered, watching the foal suck on Pinkie’s tail.

“How many have you planted?” She continued, still struggling to remove her tail from the foal’s mouth.

“Ah don’t know, lots?” He answered, now helping Pinkie get her tail back.

“Ah want to plant one, I mean that’s kinda how I got my cutie mark.” She informed, finally getting her tail free and quickly popping a bottle in the foals mouth.

“Sure, ah think we have some seeds somewhere,” Mac handed her a handkerchief for tail.

“Ah have mah own seed.” She chirped proudly, patting at her tail with the handkerchief.
Pinkie ran upstairs and came back with her small bag around her neck. With Apple Bloom atop Mac, they headed into the trees. By now Pinkie had learned the names of at least one third of the kinds of apples, even after Mac insisted she didn’t need to.

He took her to a hilltop, “Plant it here, that way yah'll always know which it yours.”

Pinkie dug out a small hole. She pulled out the small seed and placed it in the soil. Covering it with more soil, she nodded contently. “Ah wanna name it, but what?Greeny? Nah, how about Treeford?” Pinkie looked towards the pondering Mac.

“How ‘bout Bloomberg? Ah had an uncle named Bloomberg.” Mac offered.

“Bloomberg! Yeah, it’s name is gonna Bloomberg!” Pinkie jumped in a circle around the little dirt mound.

Pinkie had found herself a home and family at Sweet Apple Acres. With her her new family she found ponies that supported her. They may have not known who she was or her history, but she was family now and that’s all that mattered. ‘With a cutie mark like that yer destined to live here.’ Granny would say.

“School?” Pinkie asked one morning at the dining table.

“Eeyup, yer still a youngin’ and yah need yer education.” Granny told her as she served her pancakes.

Pinkie wasn’t sure about this. Since she had arrived to Ponyville she had been only within the apple farm, usually following Mac around and helping with whatever she could. As she was small and unable this usually meant caring for Apple Bloom. Pinkie had grown use to only being around these three ponies. Sure daily hired hoofs would come work the fields, but she wasn’t sure about leaving those she did know.

“It’s okay Pinkie, you’ll do fine.” Granny encouraged.

Pinkie looked at Mac. “Well, If yah want I'll come visit yah durin’ recess.”

Her face lightened. “You promise?”

“Eeyup.”

“But you won’t break your promise? This has to be a super duper unbreakable life-bonding never to be changed promise.” She warned.

Mac agreed again though with a little more thought this time.

“Since this promise is special it needs a special name,” she said.

“How ‘bout a Pinkie Promise?” Granny offered.

Pinkie gasped. “ A Pinkie Promise will be an unbreakable life-bonding promise. Let’s go!”

With Apple Bloom nestled in her carriage, the four ponies headed to town. This was the first time Pinkie got to get a real look at her new hometown. It was still early, but nonetheless the little town still had a sense of business. Ponies opened shop ready for customers, foals grudgingly walked to school rubbing their tired eyes and pegasi set up the day's weather. By the standards of Vanhoover or Canterlot it was nothing, but with a watchful eye Pinkie could see the workings of a busy town everywhere she turned.

Pinkie walked by Mac, staying close to him. She asked Granny Smith about each shop and place. With a practiced patience Granny answered her every question.

At last they arrived at the red school house. The paint looked new and the swings barely placed. They entered the door, a teacher stood writing lesson plans on the board. Foals talked to each other while waiting for class to begin. Two fillies walked up to the four. A magenta earth filly and a white unicorn filly.

“Hi Mac!” The magenta one called.

“Howdy.” Mac greeted the fillies.

“I’ll go talk tah Ms. Sharpener.” Granny said and left.

“I haven't seen you before.” The earth filly said to Pinkie.

“I’m Pinkie,” she said, smiling.

“I’m Cheerilee, and this is my friend Rarity,” she said, indicating the filly by her side.

“Hello darling,” Rarity greeted.

“Is she one of your cousins Mac?” Cheerilee asked noticing Pinkie’s cutie mark.

“Nope, but she does live with us,” he answered.

“So you could say Ah'm family!” Pinkie squealed remembering Granny’s words.

Granny Smith appeared with the other mare. “Hi Pinkie Pie. My name is Ms. Sharpener. Granny Smith tells me you’re going to be joining our class. Tell me, have you been to school before?”

“Hi, well my mah taught me some stuff at home. Like reading and math.” Pinkie answered. “Does that count?”

“Yes. Now come, class is going to start soon.” Granny Smith led Mac and Apple Bloom towards the door. Pinkie ran to them, “Bye Granny!” She squealed and hugged her.

Pinkie turned to Mac, “Remember you Pinkie Promised to come.”

“Ah know, ah know.” Mac assured her, and left with his grandmother.

And so class started. Pinkie enjoyed school, she was introduced to the class and sat near Rarity and Cheerilee. She enjoyed watching Cheerilee correct Ms. Sharpener while she and Rarity would giggle.

At home Pinkie’s mother would teach her and her sisters the basics but that was it. She liked it here. There was more ponies and they got to do fun things like color and eat cookies.

Pinkie enjoyed when they got to draw their cutie mark or what they would hope it would be. She looked around and looked at Rarity’s.

“Rarity what’s yer cutie mark. It looks really cool!” Pinkie asked.

Rarity looked at her cutie mark. “It means I’m fast at noticing things.” Rarity thought about it a little more. “Like I’m good at noticing details. Like Ms. Sharpener’s tie and hair band don’t match today. Or that filly’s dress has a missing button. Which also means I can pick up on the weather before it’s apparent.”

“And that’s where the cloud comes in on her cutie mark.” Cheerilee added as she crossed out another ideas for what to draw.

Recess arrived and all the foals ran out of the building, ready to play. They ran to the slides or swings, all excited to release their energy. The three fillies exited behind the rest.

“What do you wanna play?” Pinkie asked her new friends.

“Let’s play catch with the ball,” Cheerilee offered.

“But I can’t hit it. It hurts my horn.” Rarity complained. “How about jump rope?”

“I can’t grab the rope, it’s slips from my hooves all the time.” Cheerilee grumbled.

Rarity rolled her eyes and sat down, followed by the other two fillies. “So Pinkie, what brings you to Ponyville of all places?”

“Well...” She started hesitantly. “Hey look it's Mac!” She said pointing to the colt arriving in the distance.

The three fillies got up and reached him. Pinkie ran ahead of them and jumped Mac, toppling him over. Cheerilee and Rarity giggled at the bewildered Mac.

“OhmygoshMacyouwereright!Schoolisofun!Wegottodrawandread!AndnowIhavetwonewfriends, that’stwomorethanyesterday!” Pinkie spurted.

Mac just nodded, in the week Pinkie had been here Mac had learned how to decipher her waterfall sentences. He just ‘eeyuped’ and ‘noped’ in the right places. The two other fillies tried to understand her, failing terribly.

“So Mac, what brings you here?” Cheerilee interrupted.

“He Pinkie Promised he’d visit at recess.” Pinkie answered.

“A Pinkie Promise?” Rarity asked.

“It means ah can’t break it no matter what.” Mac explained.

The fillies accepted the answer and led Mac to the playground. After much arguing from Rarity, the foals spent the recess playing catch. The majority of the game consisted of Rarity dropping the ball, Cheerilee nagging her, Pinkie laughing and Mac playing peacemaker. At last the whistle blew and the foals were called in.

“Ah best be going Pinkie.” Mac said after putting away the ball.

“B-but-” Pinkie whimpered.

“Don’t worry Pinkie. Mac will walk you home after class.” Cheerilee offered.

Mac looked at her bewildered. He was about to argue, but was tackled by a grinning Pinkie. “Thank you Mac! Yah’ll are the best pony ever!”

Mac’s surprise was turned into a warm smile, but after noticing the other two fillies giggling, he pulled Pinkie off.

The school day followed casually as Pinkie learned about adding and multiplying. But eventually she got tired. ‘My talent is with apples not math, I want to get to the farm already.’ Pinkie thought tiredly. She yawned, quickly copying notes from the board. ‘My future is with apples...’ She yawned. After much yawning and writing the bell rang and the foals were excused. Pinkie stretched her forelegs and stood.

“School can be tiresome, but on the bright side we only have a few years to go!” Rarity squealed. Cheerilee had stayed to correct their teacher.

Pinkie turned to her as they walked out, “You seem really excited.”

“I am! My father says that with a talent like mine I should control the weather,” Rarity squealed again. “He says that after I graduate, he’s going to sign me up for weather training!”

“That’s super-duper cool, you’ll be awesome! Ah mean ah’ve never heard about a unicorn doing weather control, but if there is such a thing than yah’ll will be awesome!”

Rarity giggled at the praise, “Do you plan to work on the farm?”

“Eeyup! I love it there, ah’m never ever ever leaving the farm,” Pinkie answered.

They climbed down the steps. Outside Mac stood, waiting for Pinkie. He sat in the shade, a wheat stalk in his mouth. Pinkie pranced to him and assaulted him with the a summary of the rest of her day.

Rarity could find no break in her words, “I’ll see you two later.”

Mac waved to Rarity and began leading the talkative Pinkie home.

Pinkie awoke from her bed, groggily shivering at the breeze from the open window. She pulled herself from her soft bed and dragged herself to the window. She breathed in the cool air, the chilly zephyr slightly blowing her mane. Outside the once vibrant trees lay barren, their strong branches covered in snow. The once lush fields of corn and wheat were blanketed in powdery snow. The sun was just within the horizon, but shined off the snow creating a glowing effect. Shivering once more, she shut the window and hid under her blankets.

Time had progressed for the young filly. She was a common sight to the workers of Sweet Apple Acres, by now they had all learned how to understand her gushing sentences. She was Granny’s number one helper and the ‘best baker this side of the Everfree’ according to Granny. Mac and Pinkie occasionally with Rarity and Cheerilee were commonly found in the club house.

“Let’s have a fashion show!” Rarity squealed.

“No, let’s play house,” Cheerilee argued, bored of having to wear high heels and boas.

“How about space pirates who travel the universe in search of treasure and giving free cupcakes to all the good foals on a certain day, but we have to do it all within that night.” Pinkie would blurt.

“That kinda sounds like hearth’s warming eve except for the space pirates part,” Mac would blink. And so their days would be spent so.

“Mac, wake up, granny made cinnamon waffles!”

Mac woke up to a blue eyes staring at him. Pinkie stood directly atop Mac on his bed. She was nose to nose with him grinning from ear to ear. Pinkie’s face was a common sight to Mac in the mornings now or any other time. It was rare when he didn’t wake up to her face or hear her crash outside his door, when she tried to unsuccessfully stop a run to his room.

“Cinnamon waffles, why?” Mac asked, pulling himself out from underneath her.

“Ah don’t know, but let’s go!” She rushed, pushing him of the bed.

“But she only make those when something good happened,” Mac rubbed his sore hindquarters from the fall.

“I KNOW! Let’s go!” Pinkie grabbed his foreleg and dragged him downstairs.

They reached the kitchen, the sweet smell of baking wafting out. Apple Bloom sat in her high chair splattering oatmeal from her bowl everywhere.

“Good mornin’ Granny,” they recited.

Granny turned from the iron and wished them a good morning too. She set a plate of waffles for the two on the table and sat down with her own plate. Pinkie eagerly swallowed her waffles, regretting it as soon as her tongue began to burn. She began a series of motions of trying to cool the burning waffles in her mouth.

Mac watched her run around the table mouth opened and screaming, “What’s the occasion Granny?”

“A letter came in from Manehattan tahday.” Granny smiled at the now attentive Mac. “Applejack is comin’ for Hearth’s Warming Eve. "