To look at her, Ambrosia seemed like a perfectly sweet and affable pony, like any other pony you might meet. She was a pale green colour, like that of a grassy field in high summer, and she had a short-ish, yet full mane of the deepest blue that fell gracefully about her long, slender neck. She had a kindly, if slightly distant-looking face, her large grey eyes only half-open, as if only half-seeing the world around her. She was special, like most ponies, but at the same time, unremarkable.
That all changed one day, however, when she was seen with a bright, clear Cutie Mark on her flank. It was generally known that earning your Cutie Mark was a turning point in a little pony's life, when the young pony discovers their raison d'être. Usually, this is a time for celebration, but on this occasion, it was a time of consternation.
Pinkie Pie walked through Ponyville's main square, humming a little tune as she trotted along. Glancing over, she spotted Ambrosia at an outdoor café, nudging some food morosely around her plate. Curious, and ever-eager to speak to someone, Pinkie Pie went over to her table.
"HEY, AMBER!" she called, keenly. Ambrosia looked up into Pinkie Pie's broadly grinning face, with a genial, if slightly forced, smile.
"And hello to you, Pinkie Pie," she greeted, "I did tell you my name was 'Ambrosia', didn't I?"
Pinkie giggled in reply.
"Okay, Ambro-ZHIAAAAH," she said, her mouth hanging open exaggeratedly on the last sound. "How are you? From a distance, you look pretty down in the dumps. Is something the matter?"
"Oh, no, I'm well," answered Ambrosia, "though I did get my Cutie Mark last night."
"OOH! Really?" she squealed excitedly. "Lemme see, lemme see! I need to know what to put on the banner for the party!"
Obligingly, Ambrosia stood from her seat at the table and turned, showing her flank to Pinkie Pie. As she looked at it, the grin on her face eventually faded into a confused frown.
"It's… really interesting," she said, apologetically, "but what is it?"
"It's a bunch of squares and circles, I think," answered Ambrosia, also staring at her new mark.
"Ooh! I think I know what it is!" she announced excitedly. Ambrosia looked expectantly at her, and Pinkie Pie straightened up and held her head high, like she was about to make an epic proclamation.
"It looks like confetti!" she said dramatically. "That must mean you like parties; it's like my three balloons!"
"Parties?" asked Ambrosia, feeling a bit thrown. Pinkie looked at Ambrosia's Cutie Mark again, her perky grin now returned, and her demeanour suddenly much more animated.
"It's so exciting to find this out, Ambrosia! I remember when you first came here from Fillydelphia, you were a bit of an odd pony. Sweet, don't get me wrong, but a bit strange. It must be why your Cutie Mark was so long in coming; it took a while to know just what it was supposed to be!"
"My daddy always told me it was buried deep," Ambrosia said, "like the most beautiful gem in all the world. Something that hard to find, he said it would be like nothing else when I finally found it."
"Your daddy sounds so smart," complimented Pinkie Pie, "you'll have to tell him about this as soon as you can! Party confetti! What a wonderful Mark!"
"Um, I'm going to have to stop you there, Pinkie Pie," said Ambrosia, hesitant to dampen her spirits, "but I don't really go to that many parties… and since when is confetti white?"
"Oh… yeah," Pinkie Pie said, somewhat embarrassed. Ambrosia's Cutie Mark was, indeed, a pure, bright white colour, against her soft green fur.
"Maybe it's rice, like at a wedding!" said Pinkie Pie, once she regained her enthusiasm. "Maybe you'll be a wonderful wedding planner!"
"Who ever heard of square rice?" corrected Ambrosia. Pinkie Pie lowered her head in embarrassment.
"Don't feel bad, Pinkie Pie. It was a noble guess," Ambrosia said. "A better guess than I would have."
"We should find someone else to ask," suggested Pinkie Pie, "it's always good to get a lot of ideas for a problem like this. Applejack's apple stand is nearby, why don't we go and see her?"
"Applejack?"
"Yeah, you'll like her, she can be pretty sharp when she wants to be. Come on!"
Before she could speak again, Pinkie Pie had taken her by the hoof, walking through the square. They soon happened upon a small wooden stand, piled high with all kinds of big, delicious-looking apples, from the brightest green to the proudest gold to the deepest red. Hand-painted signs enthusiastically advertised the scrumptious fruit, and behind it all stood Applejack, a down-to-earth and earnest pony even just to look at her, her long neck strong and shapely, her freckly face as orange as an orchard at sunset. She turned when she heard Pinkie Pie approaching, and greeted her with a smile.
"HEY, APPLEJACK!" said Pinkie Pie, as chipper as ever.
"Mornin', Pinkie Pie," replied Applejack, a friendly twang in her voice, "I see you brought a friend with ya! Who's this?"
"Oh! Applejack, this is Ambrosia. Ambrosia, Applejack."
"Charmed," Ambrosia said to her, bowing her head slightly.
"Nice to meet ya," Applejack said back.
"Ambrosia got her Cutie Mark last night," Pinkie Pie said, "I thought maybe you'd like to see it. It's very… unique!"
"That so?" said Applejack. "Well, let's have a look-see."
Coming around to the front of the stand, Applejack came to look at Ambrosia's Mark, staring at it with mild puzzlement.
"So… what is it?" she asked, earnestly.
"It's a bunch of squares and circles, I think," answered Ambrosia, also staring at her new mark.
"Why're they scattered all over the place?" continued Applejack, drawing away from it.
"I couldn't tell you, I'm just as baffled as you are."
"They're odd little things, Cutie Marks," said Applejack. "Everypony in my family were late bloomers, gosh my little sis dun't even have hers just yet… but they've all been apples, our marks. You'd think they'd have appeared sooner, if they're that obvious."
"Well, you can see, I'm a late bloomer, too," agreed Ambrosia, "went all the way through school without even finding my mark."
"It's awful strange, though," commented Applejack, "a Cutie Mark that you can't tell what it is. What a thing to imagine."
"Do you think we should ask somepony else?" suggested Pinkie Pie. "Maybe they would have some other ideas."
"Good thinking," said Ambrosia, "who do you think we should ask?"
"How about her?" answered Pinkie Pie, looking up into the sky. Confused, Applejack and Ambrosia eventually looked up as well, and saw another, winged pony soaring over them, banking in wide circles around where the other three ponies stood in awe. She was a pale blue in colour, like the sky, and behind this fast-flying pony was a long tail of many colours, like a rainbow. Looking at her, it was like this pony was born from the air, and embraced it as her element.
"Who is THAT?" Ambrosia said, duly impressed. The aerial pony flashed her a bright grin upon hearing this question, and began to descend. She dropped down faster and faster, her eyes squinting in the wind, before smartly coming to a stop and landing gently among the other three, looking on with wide eyes.
"Rainbow Dash, the one and only!" she answered with brazen enthusiasm. "How's it going, all you ponies!"
"It goes great," Pinkie Pie said, "this is Ambrosia. She just got her Cutie Mark!"
"Really? Congrats!" she said. "It took its sweet time to show up, huh? Most ponies get it when they're still little fillies."
"Yes, I suppose it did," Ambrosia agreed. "I feel like I haven't known myself for the longest time."
"Those days are behind you now, huh?" said Rainbow Dash. "Can I see it? Lemme see it!"
Ambrosia turned obligingly, showing the Mark. Rainbow Dash held her head close to it, tilting her head back and forth, her eyes squinting and blinking. She looked more curious than confused, unlike Pinkie Pie.
"I don't suppose you can work out what it is?" Ambrosia suggested. Rainbow Dash continued to look at the mark closely.
"Y'know what it reminds me of," she posed, "it's sort of like the mark on another pegasus I know; Ditzy Doo. It's a bunch of bubbles. I still haven't worked out what they mean, really."
Ambrosia hummed noncommittally. Rainbow Dash raised her head back up, to face Ambrosia.
"What were you doing when it appeared?" she asked.
Ambrosia scrunched up her face, like she couldn't remember.
"I dunno, I woke up with it," she said, "and that night, I had this… dream."
"A dream?" asked Applejack. "What was it like?"
"It was really odd," she said. "I was in this big, black space, like a night with no stars or no moon. It was really cold."
The other ponies were suddenly rapt with her description, looking attentively at her.
"I wasn't sure where to go or what to do, the place felt so empty. I tried calling out, but I didn't have any voice. I tried running, I didn't really care where, but I didn't seem to be going anywhere. I felt really alone."
"Gosh, that sounds awful!" cried Pinkie Pie.
"It was," agreed Ambrosia. "I was beginning to feel really desperate and afraid by this time, I thought I was going to cry. But just then, there was this HUGE flash, and the sky suddenly became bright gold: Brighter and more beautiful than the sun!"
"Wow!" exclaimed Applejack. "That musta been something!"
"What happened next? What happened next?" Pinkie Pie asked, barely (or completely) unable to contain her excitement.
"After that, I saw these shapes in the sky, flying down towards me. At first they were so far away, but before I knew it, I was surrounded by them! They were so big, and they filled the air around me, flying to and fro. I was overjoyed by these shapes; at first I was alone in that place, but the shapes were all around me, and they made me so happy. I ran around as fast as I could, laughing all the while, as the shapes danced and spun all around me! It's… hard to explain, but it was wonderful!"
"Wow," mouthed Pinkie Pie, stunned into a rare silence.
"What were these shapes?" asked Applejack.
"Well… white squares and circles," answered Ambrosia. The other ponies nodded.
"It's a pretty weird dream," commented Rainbow Dash. "What were you doing before you went to bed? Did you eat something weird?"
"Not really, I was just working on a painting before I went to bed. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Why don't you ask Twilight about it?" suggested Applejack. "We're right near the library, you could pop in and talk to her about it."
"Who?" Ambrosia asked.
"She's the smartest pony in the whole town!" Pinkie Pie answered, eagerly. "She'll definitely be able to help you out, if you just go and ask!"
"…Okay," said Ambrosia, "I think I'll do that. Thanks for all your help, everypony."
"Anytime," said Applejack.
"Always happy to help!" commented Rainbow Dash.
"I'll see you around, Amber-rosia!" joked Pinkie Pie.
Ambrosia turned and galloped away happily until she came upon the town library, resembling a giant tree with windows and doors set in it. The door was wide open, and Ambrosia stepped through into the library. Shelves and shelves of books soared all around her as she entered, like a vast cathedral of knowledge. Ambrosia stepped slowly, almost reverently, into the library, her hooves clopping softly on the wooden floor.
"Twilight Sparkle?" called out Ambrosia. "Are you in?"
"Just a minute!" called back a voice from somewhere deep in the library. "Spike, could you go out and see who it is?"
"Right away!" came another voice, a younger, brasher male one. Glancing up at one of the large landings around the library walls, Ambrosia spotted a small purple and green creature emerging from an alcove; a little dragon. He peered intently at the new visitor, before a grin of recognition came suddenly across his face.
"You're not Twilight Sparkle, are you?" the pony asked. The little dragon replied with an affable chuckle.
"Nah," he answered, "my name's Spike! Twi's looking for something in the back room, but I can tell her who's come to see her, if you want."
"My name's Ambrosia," she said, "I was hoping to ask her something."
"Oh, that's good," Spike said, "she likes being asked about things!"
With that, Spike turned his head, and called out into the room behind him.
"It's somebody named Ambrosia," he called, "she wants to ask you about something, Twi!"
"Oh! Okay, I'll be right out!" Twilight Sparkle exclaimed, great surprise in her voice. She trotted out quickly from the alcove and looked down upon Ambrosia, who looked up at her in turn. Ambrosia looked upon Twilight Sparkle, pale lavender in colour, with a neutral expression, unsure how to react. Even just to look at her, standing erect on the landing, an elegant, beautiful horn jutting from her forehead, Ambrosia knew this was a pony of great poise and importance. Twilight, however, looked down at Ambrosia with a pleased and very curious-looking smile.
"Hello," she said, "you must be Ambrosia. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Twilight Sparkle," Ambrosia replied, as politely as she could.
"Just 'Twi' is fine," she said. "Why don't you come on up here, Ambrosia? It'll be easier to have a conversation that way."
"Alright," said Ambrosia, and she trotted quickly up to the landing where Twilight was. Spike stepped obligingly aside as she went up the landing, but kept a curious eye on her. Once she was closer, however, Twilight looked a bit puzzled.
"You look troubled, Ambrosia," she pointed out, "is something on your mind?"
"Well, I got my Cutie Mark last night…"
"Really! Congratulations!" said Twilight, suddenly brightening up. "That's a very important moment!"
"I suppose so," answered Ambrosia, meekly.
"Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Spike assured her, "a lot of ponies are like that."
"Yes, that's true," Twilight said, "no pony ever really knows when they're going to find themselves. May I see your Mark, though?"
"Oh, certainly," Ambrosia replied, turning obligingly to show her flank. Much to her relief, Twilight didn't frown immediately when she saw the strange mark. Spike looked at it with a quizzical expression, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"It's quite unique," she remarked, "I've never seen one quite like it."
"It's weird," Spike said glibly. Ambrosia made a bashful half-smile, upon hearing him.
"I've tried asking a few other ponies about it," Ambrosia pointed out, "none of them were certain what it is. It was a bit disheartening."
"Well, a Cutie Mark appears when a pony is doing or thinking about something," advised Twilight, "and the pony realizes that it's what she is best at in all the world. What were you doing when it happened?"
"I was painting a picture, then I went to bed," she said. "It appeared overnight."
"A painter?" mused Twilight, curiously. "I wonder why it's not a paintbrush, or a palette. Painting is a very unique talent, you'd think your Mark would show that."
"Well, Twi, if I could be honest with you," Ambrosia said, "I'm a pretty good painter, but I just don't think it's my… talent, I guess. I've been painting ever since I was a filly, if that was really my real talent, my Cutie Mark would have appeared ages ago."
It was now that Twilight Sparkle frowned with puzzlement.
"So you're good at painting, but… you don't like it?"
"No, no, I like it fine," Ambrosia corrected, "it's just that, I, the thing is, it's…"
Twilight suddenly looked incredibly concerned; Ambrosia looked like she was on the verge of tears, staring at the ground and biting her lower lip.
"Um," said Twilight, unsure of what to say. Ambrosia seemed to regain her composure after a few moments, and held her head up to Twilight once more.
"My Mark came to me after I had woken from a dream," she told her.
"What was the dream like?" asked Twilight, suddenly intrigued. Ambrosia described it to her, albeit less animated than when she had first described it, and ended by saying that she had woken up suddenly, and noticed soon afterwards that her Cutie Mark had appeared.
"I should have been overjoyed, I had waited so long for it," said Ambrosia, "but instead I was just confused. I think my head was still spinning after such a vivid dream…"
Twilight listened silently and intently, nodding her head or making a small hum of understanding every so often. Spike listened to the description of the dream as well, his face becoming surprised and excited as the dream reached its thrilling climax.
Once Ambrosia had finished, Twilight remained silent and pondering, and Spike was still rapt with her story. Instead of responding, Twilight turned, staring intently at a nearby shelf, and her unicorn's horn began to glow with a soft light. Curious, Ambrosia looked in turn at the shelf, and saw a book be magically pulled from it. The book floated gently down onto a nearby reading table, and opened itself up to the correct page.
"It's not unheard-of, Ambrosia, that a Mark appears after a dream," said Twilight Sparkle at last, reading the book put in front of her, "several ponies have had their Marks come to them after they've slept, particularly the more abstract ones."
"Can you imagine one more abstract than mine?" remarked Ambrosia. Twilight Sparkle glanced smartly at her.
"Well, my Mark is simply a group of stars," answered Twilight. Ambrosia chuckled at her response.
"It is a little strange for a pony to not instinctively grasp their Mark's meaning," she explained, "but it's often easy for them to work it out, based on what they know about their talent."
"But… I don't know what talent it's supposed to be!" exclaimed Ambrosia, suddenly sounding a bit angry. "I mean, I'm good at painting, but… but…"
Twilight looked up from the book at Ambrosia, uncertain what to say to her. She looked as though she might cry again.
Finally, after a short while, Twilight Sparkle knew that something had to break the silence.
"…But?"
"But I JUST DON'T KNOW!" Ambrosia shouted, and she turned and ran from the library. Spike's mouth widened with surprise at the sudden outburst.
"Ambrosia, wait!" he cried in desperation, but it was too late. She was gone.
Ambrosia galloped away as fast as she could, keeping her head down so that no one would be able to see the pain on her face. She ran and ran, heedless of direction, ignoring everypony she passed. She ran as she had in her dream, just as alone and afraid, and just as hopeless of finding answers.
Soon, there were less and less ponies around her, and the grass beneath her hooves had become longer and more unkept. Confused, she soon slowed to a stop, and found herself at the mouth of Everfree Forest.
The forest stood before her, huge and untamed. She knew, within, nothing was predictable. It sat on the edge of the little pony's world, like the frayed, torn edge of a cloth. To go inside was to flirt with all different sorts of danger.
Ambrosia was tired after having run for so long, though, and she felt as though she wanted to be alone here, not wanting to burden anypony else with her new, bizarre problem. She sat on a nearby tree stump to collect herself.
Twilight Sparkle's question still plagued her mind, here on the forest's edge. She was good at painting, yes, and she enjoyed it, certainly, but… one more thing about it still remained, and the way to say it was simply not possible. She could feel why her Cutie Mark had not been a brush or a paint pot or a palette, and yet she did not know why. This made as little sense as anything else, and still she sat, alone and ever-confused.
It was a small consolation to her, at least, that on the edge of Everfree Forest, on the edge of ponykind, there were at least no other ponies. Her burden of confusion was now only her own, and did not need to be laid upon anypony else.
This relief was short-lived, however, when over the faint sounds of wind and the various chittering animals from the forest, a louder, closer noise sounded out from just above her; a sort of sharp, whooshing sound, like the sound of thrusting wings.
Glancing upwards curiously, Ambrosia saw another pegasus pony, gliding around slowly, as if she was looking for something. She flew about more purposefully than Rainbow Dash, slow and unremarkable. Ambrosia looked up at. the airborne pony, hypnotized slightly by her slow weavings. She was a pale gold colour, and had a long, pink mane and tail.
The pegasus seemed to be looking around the ground for something, so it wasn't long until she noticed Ambrosia. Curiously, she began to descend, until with a last quick fluttering of her, wings, she stood next to Ambrosia. The winged pony's expression looked concerned and distracted, and for a moment, no one knew what to say to each other.
"Um… hello," Ambrosia said to her, hoping that would break the ice.
"Hi," she replied, timidly. "What are you doing all the way out here?"
"I don't know, I… just kind of ended up here," she answered, much to the other pony's bafflement.
"I see," she murmured, glancing around awkwardly. "And who are you?"
"My name's Ambrosia," she answered. "What about you?"
"Um… Fluttershy," she said quickly, as if her own name made her shy.
"…What about you?" Ambrosia asked, after a few moments. "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh! Um, I saw a deer or something outside the forest," she explained, becoming considerably more animated, "it looked like it hurt its foot, but when I tried to help him, he got scared and jumped into the forest. I don't think he's gone far, though, so I'm trying to find him."
"How awful!" exclaimed Ambrosia, "a deer with a sprained foot! He wouldn't last long in the forest with an injury like that, would he?"
"Probably not…" answered Fluttershy. "It's very strange, I've never seen a deer around here. They're very rare."
"Maybe I could help you look for him?" offered Ambrosia. "He must be near here, if he's too injured to go deep into the woods, and it may be easier to find him from the ground, if he's hiding beneath a tree or something."
Fluttershy pondered this offer for a moment or two.
"That's a pretty good idea," she answered eventually, "let's go look for him…"
"Alright," Ambrosia said, and the two ponies went into the forest. The path they walked was dark and meandering, and the dark boughs rose all around them, but the two ponies maintained their courage as best they could, as they walked slowly along the path.
The forest was filled with a wild susurrus, the wind rustling the leaves, the faint calls of distant animals, and the ever-present crunch of the two ponies' hooves on the rough dirt path. The sounds were quiet, but ever-present, like a subtle yet sweltering heat in the air. Ambrosia was uncertain how they would be able to find an injured creature in this kind of environment.
Still, with Fluttershy walking next to her, she felt better. Something about her demureness put her at ease. So at ease, in fact, that she decided to open up.
"Fluttershy," she whispered, so as not to attract attention from the unseen things in the wood, "I've… I've never been in the forest. What is it like here?"
"Oh. Um, a lot of ponies are afraid of it," she said, "it's somewhere that everything happens by itself. That tends to frighten them."
"But you don't seem frightened," Ambrosia suggested, not unreasonably.
"I don't mind it so much," she affirmed, "there's always something different in the forest; different plants and animals, different things to find. That doesn't frighten me."
Ambrosia sensed from that this that Fluttershy liked things to be different because she, too, was different. Realizing that she met a different pony, she decided to confide in her.
"Fluttershy…" she began, "I was wondering if… I could talk to you about something?"
"What about?" she whispered back, keeping her eyes off the path, for the fallen deer.
"I… finally got my Cutie Mark this morning," she murmured.
"That's wonderful news," she said indifferently, "what is it?"
"Well, it's… hard to describe," Ambrosia said, "perhaps you'd like to take a look at it?"
"Sure," Fluttershy said, and she stopped and turned around to give the Mark a glance. Ambrosia bit her lower lip, again weary what another pony would think of the thing. Fluttershy looked at it closely, seemingly quite rapt with it.
"I've shown it to a few other ponies," Ambrosia said, "and none of them could figure out what it was. Pinkie Pie thought it was confetti, though."
"She would probably think that," agreed Fluttershy, still looking closely at the Mark.
"This mark came to me in a dream, I think," Ambrosia continued, "I saw these shapes flying all around me, and when I woke up, they had become my Cutie Mark."
"Wow," remarked Fluttershy, "that sounds incredible."
"It was," Ambrosia replied, "that much I'm sure of."
Fluttershy looked up from the Mark, and faced Ambrosia. She looked slightly pent-up.
"Um, if I asked you something, would you be offended?"
"Not at all," Ambrosia assured her.
"Oh! Okay, well, I was wondering why it took so long for your Mark to appear; most ponies I've known, they got it when they were very young. It seems… strange, to me."
"It seemed strange to me, as well," replied Ambrosia. "I've done a lot when I was just a young foal, but for some reason, nothing really emerged to me as the thing that I wanted my life to be about. I'm not sure why…"
"Hmm, but now it has," Fluttershy said, "and you're not sure what it's saying."
"Exactly," Ambrosia agreed.
Suddenly, from nearby, came a loud, deep groan of an animal. Both ponies began quickly to look around, trying to find the source of this sound, when Fluttershy's eyes suddenly went wide, and she pointed to something off the path.
"Look! The deer!" she exclaimed. Ambrosia turned, and sure enough, a short distance through the trees, was a deer. It was a large, proud-looking stag, with huge antlers and fur as rich and brown as fine chocolate, but at the moment, it did not look all that majestic. It was hunkered down on the ground, and its right forepaw was bent in a strange way, as if the stag was trying to keep the weight off it.
"Wait here," said Fluttershy, "I'll see how he's doing."
Before Ambrosia could respond, Fluttershy was already off the path, approaching the buck slowly. As she drew near, however, the buck started to squirm around, as if he wanted to bolt again. Fluttershy quickly lowered her head submissively.
"Ssh, ssh, it's okay, it's okay," she cooed, "I'm not going to hurt you. I want. to help you."
The stag stopped squirming then, feeling more at ease among Fluttershy. She still approached with caution, however, as she bent down to look at the injured foot. After a very close examination, Fluttershy looked back up at Ambrosia, looking on from the path, and she nodded slightly to tell her to come closer. Ambrosia stepped lightly down into the wood and crawled towards her.
"What's the matter?" whispered Ambrosia.
"I think his foot is broken," she whispered back. "I'd like to take him back to my cottage, I can fix him there. Can you help me take him there?"
"Really? How are we going to do that?" asked Ambrosia. "He's a pretty big deer, how can we hold him up?"
"He can probably limp his way there," explained Fluttershy, "if we both help him keep his weight off the broken foot. Go sit next to him over there, please."
"Okay," said Ambrosia, who slowly moved herself to where Fluttershy had pointed. Fluttershy looked deep into the vulnerable creature's eyes, a comforting smile across her face.
"Don't worry," she said to him, calmly, "we're going to take you somewhere to fix you right up. You'll be romping through the forest again in no time! You just have to trust me. Can you trust me, please?"
The stag looked back into Fluttershy's eyes, sorrowfully. He may not strictly have trusted her, but he did see that she was the best chance he had. He lowered his head submissively.
"Thank you," she said happily, and went over to see Ambrosia.
"Okay, Ambrosia, it will take both of us to lift him and help him walk on his other three legs. You grab his upper leg there, and on the count of three, you and I will both stand and help him up. Okay?"
"Right," Ambrosia replied, and wrapped her leg around the buck's leg, preparing to help him up. Behind her, Fluttershy positioned herself under the deer's belly as best she could.
"Here we go. One, two, three!"
With a series of strained grunts, the two ponies managed to get the stag upright, and were soon back on the path out of the forest. The buck hobbled slowly out on his three good legs, the two ponies trying their best to support him.
"Rrf… this is what I mean, Fluttershy," grunted Ambrosia. "At some time, you knew your thing was animals, and your cutie Mark affirms that. I don't know what my Cutie Mark affirms."
"Well… it's not like your cutie Mark is whatever you want," Fluttershy said, "it's whatever it's supposed to be. Getting the Mark itself isn't the most important thing, I guess, it's what made it appear to you that's the true significance."
"Ah, I see," said Ambrosia, "well I hope I find out what that is soon. What a thing to imagine, huh? A pony gets a Cutie Mark, and they don't immediately get it?"
"Uhhf… well, yours was a long time in coming," Fluttershy answered, "it would have had to be pretty different, when it finally appeared."
"My father always used to say that about it," Ambrosia said, "I'll have to write him about this later."
Ambrosia stumbled for a moment, nearly causing everyone to fall over. She corrected herself quickly, but was worried nevertheless.
"Is it much further to your cottage, Fluttershy?" asked Ambrosia. "It's getting harder and harder to hold this thing."
"It's not far," she answered, "should be right over there."
Sure enough, shortly afterwards, they came upon Fluttershy's cottage not far down the path. It looked like a place that was trying to blend into nature as best it could, with its grassy roof, less manicured surroundings, and the babbling brook full of lilypads and small fish that curved around it. The two ponies lugged the injured stag around to the back of the cottage and set him down gently on the soft grass, a great reprieve from the tough, brambly floor of Everfree Forest. The stag lied down on its side, relieved, as the two ponies set him down. Ambrosia lied down next to the stag, resting after her strenuous task.
Fluttershy, however, was not slowing down.
"I've got some things to treat him inside," she said, "you'll watch him while I'm gone?"
"Sure thing," said Ambrosia. Fluttershy nodded quickly and went into the house. After seeing her go, Ambrosia laid her head down on the soft grass, next to the stag, and sighed.
"Such a strange day," she said to herself, "I finally get my clue about who I'm meant to be, and I can't make heads or tails of it. And now here I am, lying next,to a giant animal from the Everfree Forest, helping to fix his leg. How do things like this happen?"
"Well, if it makes any difference," answered a deep yet gentle male's voice, "I appreciate your helping me."
Ambrosia perked her head up suddenly in surprise and looked quickly around, her eyes wide.
"Who said that?" she said, as she darted her head back and forth.
"I did," came the voice again. Ambrosia looked suddenly over at the stag, her mouth open. The stag's head was up, his deep brown eyes looking right at Ambrosia.
"…You did?" she said. The stag nodded in reply.
"Don't tell that little yellow one though, please?" he requested. "I don't went her to overreact, or anything."
"Um, sure, no problem," Ambrosia said, still pretty flummoxed about the talking deer.
"You didn't seem like you would overreact," the stag pointed out, "in fact, you seemed like you needed someone to talk to."
"…Puh-pardon?" she stammered.
"I couldn't help but overhear," he went on, "you seem troubled by something called a 'Cutie Mark'. That's not that little pattern on your rump, is it?"
"Um, yes" Ambrosia said, her rear making a slightly self-conscious movement. "It… appears there, when I find out my great talent, or passion in life. It's usually something obvious, like a paintbrush or a party balloon, but mine is… well…"
"It's a group of white things," pointed out the buck, matter-of-factly.
"Yes," Ambrosia said.
"You're uncertain of what that is?" he asked.
"Not just uncertain," she answered, "I'm completely in the dark about it. I have no idea what it is, or what it means. The only clue I have is that I saw these shapes in a dream , before I woke up with this Mark."
The deer hummed noncommittally.
"I don't know much about dreams," he mused.
"I make paintings every now and then," Ambrosia said, "and everyone has been wondering why I didn't get something related to painting, like a brush or a palette. I told them, although I'm good at painting and I enjoy it, it doesn't feel like my… my…"
"Passion in life?" finished the deer. Ambrosia nodded gently.
"Well… as a wild animal, there's a lot that I don't know," he reasoned, "but I do know a few things. There's some things I need to do to stay alive, like foraging for food, locking antlers with other deer, that sort of thing. But there's some other things that I just… enjoy doing, for no real reason. I like splashing around in rivers, I like scratching my hooves against trees, I like jumping around on rocks. Wild animals… we don't really have talents or life passions, we just have what we do."
The deer looked up, right at Ambrosia.
"I don't see why you ponies would be any different. You have talents and passions, to be sure, and Cutie Marks and all the rest of it, but not everything you like to do and are good at would be a 'life-passion' to centre your reason for living around. Your life-passion must be something else."
"Yes, but what is it?" Ambrosia insisted. "No one I've spoken to has been of any help!"
"How could they? They're not you," the stag explained. "Seems to me that this Cutie Mark thing is very personal, so whatever answers there are, they're all inside you. You just need to think about the right things to bring them out."
Ambrosia looked at the stag, her head tilted in confusion.
"That dream is your best clue," he explained, "think about how you felt when you had it, then how you feel when you paint. See how they compare."
Ambrosia laid her head down on the grass, and tried to think. The stag watched patiently.
"The dream felt… pretty ecstatic," she said aloud. "These shapes flew all around me, and when I saw them, it felt almost like they were… giving off some kind of energy. I could feel it, almost like I was absorbing it. It made me feel like I could do anything!"
"Hmm," hummed the deer, "and the painting? Think about the painting next."
Ambrosia screwed up her face; she was having trouble thinking about it.
"It's hard to connect them," she said.
"Okay, I've got an idea," the deer said. "What do you use to make a painting? Is it especially simple?"
"Sure, just something to paint on and a brush," Ambrosia replied. Seeing the stag's vacant expression, she continued, "a brush is, like, a little stick with a bunch of hairs tied to one end, like, all in a bunch."
The buck nodded, and looked over at a small branch sitting on the ground nearby, with a sprig of pine needles on the end. It was about the size and shape of a paintbrush.
"Why don't you pick up that twig there and do a painting?" he suggested. "Just pretend, of course, just to see what you feel while you paint."
A confused look on her face, Ambrosia nonethehess took the twig between her teeth, and looked back over at the deer.
"Whuh shuld ah do?" she said, her mouth full of paintbrush.
"Just start painting somewhere," he said, "anywhere's fine, on the ground or in the air or something. Close your eyes if it makes it easier to imagine."
"Uh… ogeh," she said. Looking at the patch of grass just in front of her, she hesitated for a moment, then closed her eyes and started 'painting' on the grass, brushing her twig across the ground with the same deft touch she used with a real brush, on a real canvas. She was slow at first, as she still felt a bit puzzled by this experiment, but soon she was deep into the illusion, even moving her head every now and then to dip her brush in an imaginary paint jar next to her.
"Keep your dream in mind as you paint," the stag said, watching her intently. "If you think about it while you're doing the painting, the two may connect together."
Ambrosia looked as though she was becoming possessed with it. Her brush strokes became more aggressive and complex, and her face was contorting into all sorts of tense, powerful expressions, her eyes closed all the while. She made terse, quick little grunts and grumbles as she worked, building up to a fever pitch. She looked as though she could barely contain herself, like something deep inside her was fit to burst. Her eyes closed tighter as this pitch built, as if she was trying extremely hard to focus on something.
"I shee shumshing!" she yelped suddenly, and her eyes suddenly sprang open. For a moment, she saw a ghostly image of a colourful, chaotic painting in front of her, of swirls and squares all spinning together, before it quickly faded away. Ambrosia stared at the patch, frozen, the twig nearly splitting between her clenched teeth.
"What?" asked the deer, looking at her. Ambrosia spat the twig onto the ground.
"I saw something!" she exclaimed, "While I was painting, when I was really getting into my groove. It was very faint, but I saw them!"
Ambrosia looked right at the deer, a huge smile beaming across her face.
"The shapes!"
The deer looked duly impressed, as much as a deer could feasibly be.
"They danced and swirled in front of my eyes, right when I was really starting to picture the-"
She stopped in her tracks. After a moment, she closed her eyes again.
"A great big purple dragon with four wings and, um, it breathes black fire and-"
"What are you doing?" interrupted the deer. Ambrosia opened one of her eyes slightly.
"Trying to imagine something," she said quickly, and closed her eyes again.
"A great big purple dragon with four wings and who breathes, black fire and he lives in a huge volcano and his name is Oswald and he-THERE!"
Her eyes opened suddenly again.
"I saw the shapes again! They're very faint, so I can only see them when my eyes are closed, but they're there! The white squares and circles from my dream! They appear whenever I'm… imagining something…"
She trailed off, and her eyes went wide. The stag looked at her curiously.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
"…They appear when I'm imagining something…" she repeated slowly, to let the words wash over her.
"What does that mean?" the deer asked.
"Those shapes… they fill me with a kind of energy," Ambrosia said, "they make me feel like I can do anything. They come to me when I try to imagine something, when I try to see something in my mind's eye…"
She looked down at the stag.
"Those shapes... I think they're my imagination. They are what let me create something from nothing. They spin and tumble through my mind when I'm making something. Painting is just one of its outlets."
"So you think your Cutie Mark, your great purpose in life, is not just to paint, but to imagine?" suggested the stag.
"It could be," Ambrosia answered. "When I paint, I don't focus on the feeling of the brush against the canvas, or the way the paint splashes and splatters across the canvas, I focus on the picture, appearing in front of me as I make it. That's the important thing!"
"And it wouldn't just be limited to painting?" asked the stag.
"Oh, no!" she said. "Drawings, poetry, music… why, even thinking about a painting I could do in the future, it's all imagination!"
Ambrosia was beaming at this new revelation.
"It's an interesting theory, but certainly an odd one," the buck said, "I would give it some more thought, and would still write your father about it."
"Oh, of course, of course," she replied, "but I'm so happy to have such a great clue now. Thanks for your help."
"It's the least I can do," said the stag. Ambrosia looked up from the deer, and saw Fluttershy walking up to them from the house, a basket full of supplies in her teeth.
"Oh, here comes that little yellow pony," she whispered to the stag. "She's brought the things to fix your leg."
The stag didn't reply, laying his large head back down on the grass. Fluttershy walked up to Ambrosia, and set the basket down between them.
"That took a while," pointed out Ambrosia, "did you have trouble finding everything?"
"Oh, no, I found it all about ten minutes ago," answered Fluttershy, "I just noticed you talking to the deer, and I didn't want to bother you."
"Really? You did?" said Ambrosia, slightly aghast.
"Oh, yes. Don't worry about it; I talk to animals all the time," Fluttershy assured her. "They usually don't talk back, but I think we still understand each other."
"…Usually?" said Ambrosia, with a bit of a cock-eyed look.
"Come on, we've got to make a splint for him," said Fluttershy, changing the subject quickly. "Can you give me a hoof?"
"Oh, yes of course," Ambrosia said, retrieving a few supplies from the basket. Before long, they had fashioned a splint for the buck's broken foot. Both ponies were very pleased with their work.
"I'll check up on him every now and then," Fluttershy said, "give him some food and water, see how his foot's doing, adjust the splint, and he should be back on his feet in a few days."
"Fluttershy," said Ambrosia, "is it alright if I… come back in a couple of days, just to see how he's doing, and see if I can help out?"
"You can come by anytime you like," she replied. "I would appreciate your company, and I think so would he. He needs some time alone for now though, I think. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."
"It IS getting a little late," Ambrosia pointed out, "you're sure you don't still need me?"
"All that's left to do is leave him some water, I think," replied Fluttershy, "then I need to leave him be, so he can go to sleep. We can check up on him again tomorrow morning. Thanks ever so much for your help, Ambrosia."
"Anytime," she said, "thank you for letting me help. I'll see you later, Fluttershy."
Ambrosia got up and started to leave. She was a few paces away when Fluttershy called out to her.
"Ambrosia, wait," she called. Ambrosia looked back at her.
"Your Cutie Mark…" said Fluttershy, "…don't let it get you down, okay? Whatever it means, I know it will come to you.
Ambrosia smiled. "Thanks, Fluttershy."
As the days and weeks passed, Ambrosia continued to visit Fluttershy and the stag, helping out however she could. The stag grew stronger every day, and it wasn't long before he was up and walking about again. Fluttershy said it would still be a while before he would be strong enough to go back in the forest, though.
Fluttershy and Ambrosia's friendship grew over the coming days, as well. They spoke at length about what was taking up their time lately, and took an interest in each other. Ambrosia had brought a letter that her father had wrote to her, a reply to one she sent earlier with the good news about her Cutie Mark, and read it to Fluttershy. Her father was immeasurably proud of her, and he knew that it was something truly special. He talked about the dream Ambrosia described, and believed it was a very important dream for her. His little filly had braved the dark, and a light came to welcome her, more beautiful than the sun.
Cheesy stuff, joked Ambrosia, but from the heart. Fluttershy giggled at her remark.
As for her confusion about the Mark, he wrote, it was nothing for her to be ashamed of. The Mark showed something both greater than herself, and yet it came from herself. It represented what her life could be, what in life would make her happiest and most fulfilled. Most ponies, they know exactly what it is even before it appears, but her father knew that Ambrosia was a special sort of pony, and it would be hard for anyone to know everything that made her special, even herself. He said not to let that discourage her; her Cutie Mark was just one more key to the mystery, and he was certain that more were coming.
Fluttershy was impressed by Ambrosia's father's wisdom, and that she was lucky to have a father like him. Ambrosia just smiled.
When they could get some time alone, Ambrosia and the stag also spoke to each other. She would tell him about what new thoughts she had about her Mark, and the stag would help her develop them, in his own understated way. She also told him that she's trying to recreate the imaginary painting she made in the grass, with real paint and canvas. It wasn't coming out exactly as she had seen it with closed eyes, she joked, but she thought it was coming out alright. The stag was glad to hear it.
A few weeks after the stag came to Fluttershy's cottage, Ambrosia was in the Ponyville Library, perusing some books about local wildlife, when Twilight Sparkle came up to her.
"Ambrosia! I haven't seen you in weeks!" she remarked. "Where have you been?"
"Oh , I've been helping Fluttershy over at her cottage," she replied, "we found a deer with a broken foot in the Everfree Forest, and we've been nursing it back to health."
Twilight tilted her head, confusedly.
"A deer?" she said. "There haven't been deer in Equestria for years."
"Well, that's what we found," she insisted, "a big, brown animal on four legs with great big antlers. Fluttershy said they were rare, so-"
"They're not just rare, they simply don't exist around here," interrupted Twilight.
Twilight turned away from her, and started looking along the shelf for aomething.
"There IS something like that in one of these books," she said, "but not in any of the books you have there."
A book flew magically from the shelf and glided onto Ambrosia's reading desk. The cover read 'Legendary Creatures of Equestria'. Twilight flipped magically through the pages before finally stopping on a page with an old-looking illustration of something that looked an awful lot like the stag.
Ambrosia's eyes were wide.
"Old legends tell of this creature called the Gladelord," described Twilight, "it supposedly guarded the Everfree Forest against evil forces, and would occasionally come to lost travellers to help them find their way."
"Help them find their way…" Ambrosia whispered to herself.
"But it's just a myth, a story," argued Twilight Sparkle, "and nothing more."
"Thanks for your help, Twi, I'll see you later," Ambrosia said quickly, and turned and ran from the library at full gallop, much to Twilight's surprise.
Ambrosia ran full-tilt towards Fluttershy's cottage, faster than she thought she could ever run. By the time she got there, as she thundered across the little bridge and went to the backyard, she was all out of breath. Glancing up, she saw Fluttershy standing nearby, coming up to her.
"Oh… Ambrosia, I'm sorry," she said, "he just went back into the woods five minutes ago. I was hoping you could come and see him before he went, but as soon as I got his splint off, he ran right into the forest. He's a wild animal, Ambrosia, I can't control him. I'm sorry."
Ambrosia looked distraught. She hung her head, and looked as though she was about to cry.
"I… I never even got to thank him…" she quivered. Fluttershy leaned closer to her, confused.
"Pardon me?" she said, softly. Ambrosia didn't answer. A long, tense moment passed.
"Don't feel bad, Ambrosia. The important thing is we were able to help him. Even if he just ran off when he was strong enough to go, we were still able to do some good."
Ambrosia still hung her head.
"…Um, and it looked like it did you some good, too. You were so upset the day we found that stag, but since then, you seem to have come around. We were able to help work out some things about your Cutie Mark, together."
Ambrosia raised her head slightly, her expression slightly more courageous than before.
"He doesn't take them where they want to go," she murmured to herself, "he helps them find their way…"
"Sorry?" Fluttershy said. Ambrosia looked over at her, smiling.
"Thanks so much for your help, Fluttershy. I couldn't have done it without you."
Fluttershy looked surprised at the sudden compliment.
"Um, happy to help. Would you like to come in for some tea?"
"That would be great," Ambrosia said, and they went inside together.
In the weeks that followed, Ambrosia was in much better spirits, keeping herself busy. She completed the painting she imagined all those weeks ago, and hung it up on her wall. Her visitors really liked it, and she herself thought it looked pretty good, though obviously not the one she saw fading away in the grass.
She had painted another one as well: a picture of a proud and mighty stag, on a sunny hillside. It was a surprisingly painstaking work, since Ambrosia was painting the subject from memory, and from a tiny, faded picture in an old library book. She put it in storage once she had finished it, unsure what to do with it. She hoped, someday, she could see the real thing again.
Maybe someday.
THE END