Author's Notes:

The Cutie Mark Crusaders hear a story of a bizarre magical encounter in the Everfree Forest, and a cutie mark that doesn't make sense.

The call came from the edge of the cane field: “Hey mister! How about you? How’d you get your cutie mark?”

The lanky young colt cutting sugarcane paused, waiting for Scootaloo to shout the inevitable follow-up question. But it was Apple Bloom who muttered, probably thinking he couldn’t hear;

“...and what in the hay is it supposed to be, anyway?”

Turning around, he was presented with three young fillies sharing one identical frown of confusion. The awkward colt knew the look – pretty much any new pony he met wore it sooner or later and, not infrequently, it stared back out at him from mirrors, framed by his dark auburn mane. Of course, it was not surprising that the Crusaders, making their way through Ponyville’s cutie mark stories, had eventually come out to Sugar Cane Farm and now it was his turn. He mentally braced himself as he wandered over to the boundary fence on which the fillies had perched.

“Well good morning to you too, Cutie Mark Crusaders. I know you by reputation, but I’m not sure we've been properly introduced – I’m Talib Cane.” The gangly Earth Pony pronounced it tay-lub, reaching out and gravely shaking their hooves one by one, as they responded:

“Howdy doo, Talib, I'm Apple Bloom”

“Sweetie Belle. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Name’s Scootaloo. How's it hanging?”

“It’s an honour to finally meet the Crusaders,” Talib finished. He regarded them seriously.

“Now I hear you've been pestering hardworking ponies about how they got their cutie marks. Hoping to pick up some ideas?”

“Yeah!” cried Scootaloo, “but all the town ponies are getting tired of us so we’re really scraping the bo-”

“...thought we'd try some of Ponyville’s most respected farming families!” Sweetie Belle interrupted smoothly. She’d certainly picked up some social skills from her sister – Talib had barely noticed the sharp elbow to Scootaloo’s ribs.

Apple Bloom chimed in: “But what is that cutie mark, Talib?”

He gave an uncertain grin, and dodged the question: “Why don’t you take a guess?”

Sweetie Belle squinted a little at his buff-coloured flank, “It looks like a snake! Is your special talent something to do with snakes?”

The idea seemed to excite the Crusaders, and they all started talking over one another:

“You take care of snakes!”

“Can you talk to them?”

“You can cure snake bite!”

“Do you juggle them?”

Their enthusiasm was infectious, and the colt genuinely, involuntarily grinned, even though he knew his story would disappoint them.

“Nope, snakes and I are as scared of each other as any other pony. Try again.”

“Wait!” Scootaloo interrupted, “The snake’s kinda curled around on itself like a circle… is it… eating its own tail?”

He nodded, and Scootaloo leapt off the fence in excitement, running her scooter in little circles on the grass and beaming with approval.

“That's awesome!”

“Thanks, Scootaloo. It’s called an Ouroboros”

The fillies looked sceptical. “An Ouro-boro-what now?” Apple Bloom attempted, with difficulty.

“An Ouroboros. It’s a very old symbol.”

“But what does it mean, mister?” Sweetie Belle’s confusion was now tinged with distaste. It seemed she didn’t like snakes.

“Well, if I tell you the story, maybe you’ll figure it out. But if it’s cutie mark advice that you want, you’ve probably come to exactly the wrong pony. You still interested?”

The fillies nodded their heads in unison “Uh-huh!”

“All right then, my little ponies. Sit yourselves down and listen up,” Talib gestured towards a comfy pile of discarded cane leaves, “and get ready for the strangest story you’re likely to hear for some time. It’s been quite a while since I told anypony this.”

His mysterious introduction had certainly got their attention, and the Crusaders stared, wide-eyed, at the serious young pony as they settled in. They wondered what kind of story could go with Talib’s odd cutie mark, as he began.

Talib began his story simply.

“I was about your age, maybe a couple seasons older. We had this incredible teacher – a unicorn, Miss Scribes. Do you girls have a favourite teacher?”

“Miss Cheerilee!” came their reply, in chorus.

“Right. Well that’s how we all felt about Miss Scribes. Not only was she a good teacher, but she was kind to everypony, and had some impressive magical talent. She used to always be researching new spells. I know Twilight Sparkle has smashed the previous record, but back then Miss Scribes was the unicorn everyone ‘round here would go to with questions about magic. I remember one time, when Princess Celestia came on an official school visit, Her Majesty spent a long time talking about magic with our teacher. Once, Miss Scribes cast a spell that stopped some mean unicorn students from using their horns for months.”

Sweetie Belle spoke uncertainly: “I’ve never heard of anypony blocking somepony’s spell-casting before…”

“Neither had I, before or since. Miss Scribes was really something. Anyway, one time we went on a school trip to the Everfree Forest-” here he paused, cut off by a gasp from the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

“But… but that’s too dangerous for a school trip for young ponies!” Scootaloo stammered incredulously. Talib looked down at them – the three young fillies had involuntarily huddled closer together, casting frightened glances over to the other side of the field and the high, dark treeline beyond.

“That’s what the school board thought, but Miss Scribes argued all the stories were exaggerated and it was important for young ponies to have the experience that not every place is tamed and cultivated like Ponyville. She called a parent meeting and managed to convince most ponies to support the trip, as long as we stayed near the edge of the forest. So the very next week, we packed our panniers for a day trip and followed her into the trees.

“At first everypony was quiet – we were intimidated by the Forest’s reputation and the scary stories we’d heard. But Miss Scribes was so confident and positive, eventually we all began to relax. She showed us a side of the forest nopony had told us about: hidden glades with little pools, where if you stayed quiet long enough you’d see small, shy animals nopony could identify come for a drink or a swim; enormous, majestic trees that seemed like giants, kind and wise, and keeping old secrets; young plants struggling for light but still blooming enthusiastically, desperately, with flowers intricate and strange. She showed us the Forest could be beautiful, and that it deserved respect, but not terror.”

Talib’s voice trailed off. He’d begun shyly, but for a moment the fillies had seen him transported; his voice had become impassioned and reverent, and his descriptions had come to life in their minds. But now his expression had turned inward and unreadable.

“…Talib? What’s wrong?” Sweetie Belle sounded concerned.

“Did somepony get hurt?” Scootaloo was downright scared.

Talib saw that he was frightening the fillies. He shook it off and came back to them.

“Sorry, girls. No, nopony was hurt, though it was a near thing. We were sitting around a secluded lagoon, fascinated by the tadpoles swimming inside. Miss Scribes was telling us there were no quiet, still waters like this for tadpoles in Ponyville, so every frog we met probably grew up in the Forest.”

“Hey! I never knew that!” said Apple Bloom, impressed.

“Neither did we – most ponies have no idea how important the Forest is for all manner of critters. We were loving every minute of it. We felt so free! Everypony was wandering around the lagoon as they pleased, as long as we stayed in sight of Miss Scribes. She would walk around to all the little groups of students that had formed and answer their questions, maybe point out some things they’d missed, like a colourful moss that could make a dye for clothes, or an inconspicuous hole in the bank of the lagoon that was actually a water-rat’s burrow.

“One pony, though, got a bit carried away. A troublesome young unicorn filly named Dawn Flare…”

“Troublesome how?” interrupted Sweetie Belle, “Was she mean?”

Talib shook his head. “Nothing like that. But Dawn was a born rebel – she always did pretty much exactly as she pleased, and rules just didn’t seem to make sense to her. She used to get teased a lot because she couldn’t do much magic – spells never really worked because she would just put things together almost randomly, didn’t like instructions – but she never got angry or mean with the ponies teasing her. Always seemed to have her mind on other things.

“Anyway, Dawn loved practical jokes. She’d called over one of the other fillies to look at something, a big fish of some kind, she said. But Miss Scribes heard her and got real excited, saying she’d heard some quite beautiful, rare species had been seen nearby. Dawn opened her mouth to stop her, but it was too late. Miss Scribes stepped on the soft bank Dawn had pointed to, which collapsed and dunked our teacher in the lagoon. All the nearby ponies were horrified, including Dawn, who jumped straight in after her – though Miss Scribes surfaced and was swimming just fine, Dawn paddled over anyway and did everything she could to help. When they were both back on the bank, Dawn burst into tears and kept apologising. She seemed so traumatised and piteous that Miss Scribes obviously felt touched. She comforted Dawn, saying it was obviously an innocent prank with no malice intended, and nopony was likely to have been hurt. When she’d gotten Dawn to stop crying, Miss Scribes gently made her promise not to play any more tricks in the Everfree Forest, and Dawn agreed – although you never quite knew how long Dawn would stick to what she said.”

“Well, that’s not so bad!” Scootaloo had brightened up, “Couple of wet ponies, no big deal. But what does that have to do with your cutie mark?”

“I’m getting to that. Things soon got a lot worse.

“Everypony had gathered around, concerned for the two wet ponies. We’d been so distracted we hadn’t noticed the awful smell coming from the high trees further from the bank. But soon somepony asked about it. Miss Scribes stopped towelling off and sniffed the air – then, for a second, she froze. I don’t know if any other pony noticed it, but the brief expression I saw on her face was definitely fear. It was quickly replaced by resolve, and in a stern voice she’d never used before, she told everypony to get away from the trees immediately. We all did, even Dawn – it was completely uncharacteristic of Miss Scribes to be so severe. Everypony went close to the banks of the lagoon behind her, while our teacher glared intensely at the trees.

“The smell was getting stronger, but we were all too scared to ask what it was. It was awful, like… like leaf mould at the bottom of a compost heap, but much worse. For a long time, nopony spoke.”

The Crusaders were silent too, their eyes locked on Talib and their arms locked around each other. The story had taken a sudden turn for the spooky.

He continued abruptly, startling the fillies. “Suddenly, somepony shouted; ‘Look!’ When our eyes followed where her hoof was pointing, we could dimly make out eight glowing green eyes, slowly moving closer out of the darkness under the trees. The smell was unbearable. The shadowy forms moved into the dappled light nearer the lagoon – timberwolves! Four big timberwolves, growling and howling and stinking, advancing on us with a menace that froze everypony with terror.

“Everypony except Miss Scribes. ‘Don’t worry, class!’ she said, ‘I’ve dealt with bigger timberwolves than these before. This spell should send them running!'

“Her voice sounded strong, confident. Although we were still scared, I think everypony believed her. She stood tall and proud, her horn pointed menacingly at the timberwolves, as she started her spell.

“A pale blue light spread from her horn and the air filled with a strange buzzing, chiming noise. As she gathered power, her hooves left the ground and the air around her burst into a corona of cold fire. The timberwolves stopped and cowered in their tracks, beams of the azure light playing across their predatory features.

“And then it was over. Abruptly, the light flickered and died, the sound twisted and vanished with a whine, and the blue fire scintillating over her still-wet coat went out. Miss Scribes was back on the ground, her horn sputtering uselessly. The commanding expression was now disbelieving. As the timber wolves regained their aggression and, once more, prowled forward snarling, we saw fear finally take possession of our teacher’s features. She backed away, but then she looked back at us and stood firm with resolve, pawing the ground with her forehooves. The wolves lunged forward, Miss Scribes reared up and lashed out, and we all screamed.

“But the wolves never even touched her. A light, colours that defy description, lanced out and caught them mid-air, cocooning them. It pulsed and deformed wildly, arcing flashes of blinding power which grounded themselves in the trees, the ground, and the water of the lagoon. The timberwolves began to howl plaintively but their voices warped and weakened as their cocoons expanded, as if draining the energy that had animated branches and leaves into these vicious hunters. We all looked at Miss Scribes, but her horn was still sputtering futilely. Looking around, I finally found the source.

“Dawn was standing in a circle of multi-coloured, shifting flame. Her stance was wide and her horn high, but her expression was pained, almost panicked. She seemed not to be in control. A cutie mark had appeared on her flank - a black circle with eight colourful arrows pointing outward. The howl of the timberwolves weakened and vanished, becoming the sound of leaves rustling in the unnatural wind. Their components fell apart and tumbled to the ground, as lifeless as stones, and the light which had imprisoned them shot out in all directions, then vanished into the trees, earth and water. Dawn collapsed, weakened and unconscious, and a hush fell over us all as we looked with awe at the pile of wood which, moments before, had been coming to devour us.

“Miss Scribes was the first to recover. She went to tend to Dawn while giving the rest of us instructions, keeping us busy to prevent shock from setting in. The stronger ponies were tasked with carrying Dawn, and we gathered and packed our things and left the dimness of the Forest by the shortest route, emerging into the sun a few minutes later and returning to school. Nopony was talking much, but eventually somepony pointed at my flank and asked me how long I’d had my cutie mark. I looked back and there it was, plain as day. I must have got it around the same time as Dawn.”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders were as quiet as the ponies in the story as they processed the frightening events. Talib watched them patiently.

“But… but what does it mean?” asked Apple Bloom in hushed tones.

“I have no idea,” replied Talib, shrugging, “all I know is it has something to do with what happened that day in the Everfree Forest. I didn’t figure out any particular talents, as far as I noticed. It was pretty obvious Dawn's special talent was something to do with her magic, but I hadn't done anything special at all.”

“But that’s not how cutie marks are supposed to work! Shouldn't it be obvious?” asked Scootaloo. “You mean that even when we get our marks, we might still be just as lost?”

“Well I doubt it,” said Talib, “A cutie mark does indeed appear when you find out what your special talent is, and for most ponies it’s obvious at the time. Maybe for me it’s just something more abstract, or I was too distracted to notice. But you’re right in that no other pony I know has a cutie mark without knowing what it means. To be honest, I’m just as confused as you three.”

Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle really did look even more confused than when they’d first seen the Ouroboros. They decided to focus on more obvious things.

“What happened to Miss Scribes? And Dawn?” asked Scootaloo.

“Miss Scribes sat us all down and told us the truth. She had no idea why her magic had not worked that day, when it had seen off a few timberwolves in the past. Similarly, she had no idea why Dawn had been able to do such powerful magic when normally she couldn’t lift a teacup. Incidentally, Dawn had recovered her senses but had no memory of the timberwolf attack, and her magic had reverted to its usual unimpressive baseline. Miss Scribes told us that, until further notice, nopony was to enter the Everfree Forest for any reason. She called another parent meeting and was honest with them, too, about what had happened. Nopony blamed her but they all agreed that school trips to the Everfree Forest were not such a good idea after all. Everypony was curious about Dawn’s powers at first, but when it never repeated itself, most decided it was a freak event, unlikely to ever be explained, and stopped spending time on it.” Except me, he added to himself. “The rest of school was pretty much normal until graduation.”

“When was that?” asked Apple Bloom.

“This afternoon, actually." Talib smiled. “In fact, if you don’t mind, I have to finish harvesting this field and then get ready.”

“Oh!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, “Congratulations! I guess we’ll let you get back to it. Um… thanks for your story, Talib.”

“Even if it didn’t make sense?”

“Sure!” said Apple Bloom, “It’s kinda nice to know that even when they get their cutie marks, not everypony has all the answers. Makes us feel better.” She smiled at Talib. “Seeya, Talib! C’mon girls, let’s go visit Walnut Farm!” The fillies trotted back down the farm path, their resilient spirits buoyant once more.

Only Sweetie Belle hung back. “Talib,” she asked, “do you still see Dawn? Is she OK?”

“Actually I don’t. She moved to Canterlot a year or so later, I have no idea what she’s doing now. She seemed fine when she left, though.”

Sweetie Belle nodded, satisfied, and turned to follow her friends.

Talib watched them go, somewhat gloomily. It’d been a while since he’d gone over that story out loud, and it still had a kind of power over him. As he went back to cutting and stripping the sugar cane, he reflected for the millionth time on the parts he’d left out.