“I don’t know. Spike’s just got this weird thing about strawberries lately.” Twilight Sparkle leaned against Applejack’s wagon and shook her head. “He started reading through the cookbooks in the library. He’s on 101 Strawberry Desserts right now, and he’s got it in his head to try them all. We have number twenty-six today.”

“Well, you get to eat a lot o’ desserts, at least.” Applejack stifled a chuckle with her hoof before lifting another crate of apples onto her counter and watching the growing market-day crowd.

Twilight rolled her eyes and nodded. Good thing her wings hid most of the evidence of that. So far, anyway. “True, and they have been good. It’s just that he can get a bit obsessive at times.”

Applejack stared back for a moment before she broke into a halfhearted grin. “Yeah. Um… you wouldn’t know that feeling, would you, sugarcube?”

“Huh?” Feeling of… wanting to cook something?

“Never mind,” Applejack said, waving off whatever she had considered saying instead. “So, you must be gettin’ to know the strawberry seller well. Day twenty-six, huh? You buy from him every day?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “He’s nice enough, but I don’t know much about him. What can you tell me?”

Applejack scratched her head. “Hm. I don’t know. He’s friendly, but never talks ’bout himself much, though I have to say I’ve never really asked. Not the kind to pry if somepony ain’t volunteerin’.” She pushed her hat back and rolled her eyes up. “Tone’s come ’round the market for years now, but we’ve never gotten much past idle chit-chat. Weather and tips on growin’ and such. I’d place him about Cranky Doodle’s age.”

“Well, I’d like to be his friend,” Twilight declared, her eyes closed and her head held high. “I think it’s time I borrowed a page from Pinkie’s book and took the initiative for once. I’ve even brought along some tea to share for the past few days.” She patted her saddlebag and gave a winning smile.

“That’s mighty neighborly of you. But what brought this on?” Applejack wrinkled her brow. “Princess Celestia don’t exactly give you assignments anymore.”

Twilight shrugged and glanced at Tone again. “No, but it occurred to me that I’ve only made friends since moving here through happening into ponies by chance, or because they approached me. I’ve been fortunate that way.”

“You just draw ponies to you.” Applejack cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Makes sense, friendship bein’ your expertise and all.”

“But I want to take the lead for once,” Twilight said, a frown stealing across her face. “Seems like the kind of thing I should know how to do, right?”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble, sugarcube. Say, if you’re talkin’ to him, see if you can find out his cutie mark,” remarked Applejack as she narrowed her eyes and cast glances both ways down the row of market stalls. “It’s a kind o’… I don’t know. An item o’ gossip? Nopony’s got a good look at it. He keeps a saddlebag or apron or somethin’ over it all the time. All I’ve ever seen is a spot o’ red, so I assume it’s a strawberry. If you ask him about it, he changes the subject, or so I hear. Maybe you’ll have some luck.”

“Well, sure. I can’t imagine why a pony wouldn’t want to talk about his passion in life.”

“Don't know if I’d put it that way,” Applejack said. She pursed her lips. “Must have his reasons. Look, on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t push it.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Why not? It’s his cutie mark! You love discussing apples.” She just knew it—now that would burn inside her head until she figured it out.

“Yeah,” Applejack said, running a hoof through her forelock, “but he doesn’t talk about it. Maybe bring it up once, then drop it if he don’t give you an answer.”

Twilight opened her mouth to reply, but Tone had sat down behind his cart. He’d finished serving the line of customers, and if she wanted some one-on-one conversation, she’d better go now. “Um… I’ll catch you later. I should talk to him while it looks like he has time.”

She trotted off, leaving Applejack shaking her head. Twilight weaved her way through the late arrivals still towing their carts down the street—by the sun’s height, she guessed eight o’clock already. All around her, tempting scents teased her nose: fresh ripe fruit, the rich, smoky odor of a hickory-fired chestnut roaster, bread, herbs… She inhaled a generous helping and let her thoughts drift back to market day in the square near school. What better way to experience all that Equestria had to offer than from the oddities the merchants brought with them? It sure added pizzazz to what she could get from her textbooks.

A creaking axle jarred her from her reverie, and she realized she’d walked right by the strawberry stand. She stopped short. “Oh! Um… sorry.” Twilight directed a sheepish smile at the pony who’d run into her from behind. A bit of deft hoofwork soon had her backtracking and leaning over the bins of sweet-smelling berries piled around Tone’s booth.

“Back again, are you?” he called as he saw her picking through his stock. “One pint or two today?”

“I… forgot to ask this morning.” Twilight wrinkled her brow. “I guess one. I can come back later if I need more.”

He grinned and poked around through the containers. “I know I had one around here that’d work great. Nice deep red, not too big—y’know, the biggest berries are often hollow inside. Trade secret for you,” he added with a wink.

Twilight giggled. Maybe this would be too easy. “Thanks so much! Do you do this for everypony?”

He lifted out the carton he must have had in mind and set it on the counter. “Mostly, yeah. I hope so, anyway. Heh. That little dragon is working you to the bone. How is he doing?”

“Spike’s having fun, sir,” she answered, returning his infectious grin. “Busy, busy, busy all the time now, so I’ve had to do the shopping lately. He’s making some kind of oversized shortcake today.”

“Please—” he held a hoof to his chest and raised an eyebrow “—do I look like a ‘sir’ to you?”

“Sorry, um… Tone?” Twilight asked. She floated the carton of berries into her saddlebag and took out her change purse.

“That’s better,” he said. “Three bits, by the way.”

Three coins settled onto his counter, soon followed by an insulated bottle and two cups. “The morning rush hasn’t quite hit yet. Would you mind sharing some tea with me again?” She jiggled the canister in front of her. “We’ve talked more and more lately, and Applejack says you’re a nice pony. I wouldn’t mind learning a little more about you.”

“Sure, Twilight,” Tone replied. “A bit of tea in the morning never hurts. What’s on your mind?” He took the steaming cup she offered him and nodded at his first sip. “Jasmine. Nice.”

“That’s an interesting name: Tone.” Hiding her mischievous grin behind her cup, Twilight asked, “Is there a meaning behind it? I’d guess music, but maybe color, as in a strawberry red?”

He flicked his eyes toward his apron and took another sip of tea. “That works as well as any explanation. I’m just a simple strawberry grower. Strawberry farming’s been in the family as long as I can remember. I inherited it from my father, when I moved back to Ponyville about fifteen years ago.” He took a long drink and leaned forward, his ears pricking up. “As a matter of fact, I—excuse me a moment.” Tone downed his tea and walked over to wait on a customer.

With Tone’s attention diverted, Twilight craned her neck to see under the edge of his canvas apron. The corner would flip up occasionally when he moved, but still never provided a clear view. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn the universe had something against her that day. She set her jaw and squinted—a faint purple glow enveloped the cloth and lifted it as much as Twilight dared. She creased her brow at the sight of a small and unidentifiable dull red spot.

“Thank you! Please come again!”

Twilight snapped her gaze up and released her magic as he turned back from the counter to face her. She tried to look as interested in her tea as she could… and hoped he didn’t see her heart thudding in her chest.

“Ah. So, as I was saying—I remember seeing the newspaper article about your coronation. That your parents standing next to you in the photo?” He must not have noticed, thank goodness.

“Oh! Yes, I’d forgotten about that,” she replied with a giggle. “Mom had to drag Dad in front of the camera. He hates having his picture taken.”

“Can’t say I blame him. Anyway, I remember your dad from back in my Canterlot days. Didn’t know him well—just saw him around a bit.”

“Wow! Small world, huh?” Twilight said. She levitated the bottle of tea toward him. “More?” When he nodded, she topped off his cup.

“How about you? Any family?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not really. Parents passed some time ago, one brother, also gone now… really nothing to speak of anymore, except a niece that still lives around here. You might know her—Berry Punch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Twilight answered, her ears perking. “Makes sense, what with the berries and all.” She sipped at her tea and waited. Maybe he’d start up again to fill the silence, but… no, he seemed happy to sit there.

“You must have met Dad before the School for Gifted Unicorns invited him to attend,” she finally said. “He was kind of a late bloomer. They don’t usually accept students that old, but it all turned out fine.”

Tone patted his bare forehead and grinned. “Yup. They don’t exactly take my kind there.”

Twilight held her tea up to her muzzle and breathed in the herbed scent. “Applejack says you’re from here originally. So what brought you to school in Canterlot?”

He shot a glance back up the row of stalls toward Applejack’s cart. “Just seemed like a good opportunity. Mom thought I shouldn’t pass it up.”

Somehow, the insubstantial wisps of steam drifting from her tea gave Twilight enough of a hiding place to dredge up a streak of courage. “What did you study? Something to do with agriculture? I mean, I’d guess ponies might assume your name refers to color, like the strawberry red in… your cutie mark?” Twilight forced an innocent smile and held stock-still.

His thoughtful stare studied her for what felt like ages. She kept her face steady until she thought her cheeks might cramp up, but she couldn’t let on—Tone opened his mouth as if to speak, but he caught himself and looked briefly down the road toward Applejack’s wagon again. His gaze returned to Twilight and lingered there before he finally said something. “Good a reason as any, isn’t it?” He stood up and walked back to his cart. “Applejack put you up to this?”

“N-no! I-I was just curious.”

She endured his stare for a moment longer until he spoke again. “A funny thing, the cutie mark. You ever stop to think about it?”

Twilight squinted back. “I-I’m not sure what you mean…”

Waving a hoof at her and shaking his head, Tone said, “No, you wouldn’t, would you?” He inclined his head toward a pair of approaching ponies. “I’ve got customers.”

After waiting for a minute, Twilight packed up her cups and bottle and returned to the library. On her way past Applejack’s cart, she gave a wry smile and shrugged.

The next morning, Twilight stood in the library’s doorway as she folded a piece of paper and stuffed it into an envelope. “Spike!” she called toward the kitchen. “You’ll have to do the shopping today. I have to go send an express letter.” After receiving a barely audible grumble in reply, she stepped out into the street and made her way to the post office. Plenty warm out already—best to get her errands done before the summer heat set in.

She exchanged a nod with Applejack on the way, and between a couple of wagons, she caught a glimpse of Tone again. That red spot… What did she think she’d get out of seeing it that nopony else had? Still, hiding a special talent? She just didn’t understand. “A funny thing, the cutie mark,” he’d said. What did he mean? They were pretty straightforward, as far as she knew, and she was no slouch when it came to knowing things.

She’d arrived at the post office before she knew it. An unattended counter… Twilight rang the bell, and the thumping and rustling in the back room ceased immediately. Derpy zipped to the front, leaving a swirl of letters in her wake. “How can I help you, Twilight?” she spouted.

Twilight floated her envelope onto the counter. “I need guaranteed same-day delivery to Canterlot on this.”

“Four bits,” Derpy said, marking it with a rubber stamp. She turned around to face an array of saddlebags on a wall-mounted rack and scratched her head while scanning over the markings on each. “Hm. ‘H’ for ‘has to get there soon’? No, that’s for ‘have a day or two.’ ‘I’ for ‘I gotta hurry’? No.” She gave her wings a tentative flap and leaned forward as if nosing her way through a rush of wind. A spark lit up in her eyes, and she broke into a giggle. “Aha! Of course, of course. ‘G’ for ‘gotta get there today.’ Just had to put myself in the right mindset.” After stashing the letter in the appropriate satchel, she faced Twilight once again and scooped up the few coins lying on the counter.

Gaping for a moment, Twilight shook the fog from her mind and said, “Are you sure…?”

“I haven’t lost a letter yet,” Derpy replied with a smile and a sharp nod.

Twilight couldn’t help chuckling. Much like Pinkie Sense, she couldn’t explain it, but… it worked. “Say, Derpy, how long have you had your job here?”

Derpy tapped a hoof on her chin, then whispered a few numbers to herself. “Eight years,” she replied, her nose turned up proudly, but she almost slipped on a few of the envelopes scattered on the floor. “Whoops! Sorry about that.”

“So you started after Tone moved back here?”

“Yeah,” she said with a vigorous nod.

“Hm. You probably know everypony in town. What can you tell me about him?”

Derpy shrugged. “Lives alone on his farm. I don’t go by there much, but whenever I do, there’s this one bee that always follows me around. I heard once they talk by dancing, so I tried to boogie a bit and tell it to go home, but now it hangs around me even more! I wonder what I said to it.”

“…Okay. Um, have you ever seen his cutie mark?” Twilight leaned forward on the counter and caught a whiff of something—lily of the valley maybe?

“Sure!” Derpy answered.

“Well… what is it?”

“Small red blob.” She beamed back at Twilight.

“Yes, but what is it?” Twilight flung up her hooves. “Nopony seems to know.”

“It’s like a cushion. One of those red velvet ones that ponies sit on in the front row of the opera,” Derpy said, nodding as if it were an irrefutable truth. “That’s gotta be it.” She dipped below the countertop to retrieve some of the fallen letters, which stirred up a little more of that sweet odor.

“Oh, um…” Twilight said. “I think it’s the floral scent. The bee likes your perfume.”

Derpy’s head sprung up above the counter again. “Really? Hm.” She held a hoof to her chin and rolled her eyes up. “How do you spell ‘I’m not a flower’ in dance?”

Twilight’s mind actually went blank for a second. “I-I don’t… Um, Derpy, what makes you say that? About his cutie mark?”

“Every time I have an evening delivery out there, I hear him listening to his records. It’s always some of that fancy singing. Sometimes he has it up loud enough that he doesn’t hear me knocking.” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “I got used to hearing a couple of them and hummed along when he answered the door once. That’s… the only time I’ve ever seen him get mad. I guess I don’t have a very good voice,” Derpy added with a little frown.

“Maybe he’s a music critic.” Her ears perking, Twilight straightened up. “Critics need to keep their identities secret sometimes. Oh, well. Thanks for talking, Derpy.”

The mailmare gave a small salute and dashed into the back room again. Humming echoed through the sorting shelves—not a tune Twilight had ever heard before. She listened for a moment, then turned to leave.

Instead of doing the shopping herself, Twilight had sent Spike so she could wait for the mail. Just as she checked the clock for what felt like the fiftieth time, she heard a knock at the door and a dull thump on the porch. She raced over to see Derpy already far in the distance, but… it was here!

Twilight snatched up the package off her doorstep and tore the paper off, revealing an old book. She eagerly slapped it down on a reading table and flipped open the cover—a note fluttered out, but she caught it before it hit the floor.

Dear Twilight,

Thank you for your kind letter! Your mother and I are doing quite well, and we appreciate hearing from you. In answer to your question, I do remember a fellow named Tone. It was my first year in grade school, and I helped out with the scenery in the annual musical production. Tone was in his last year and played the lead. In fact, I think he wrote the songs for it. I’ve sent my old yearbook so you can look him up if you like. Just give it back whenever we see each other next. No hurry. It’s good to hear that Tone’s doing well. Tell Spike hello for us!

We love you, and we’re proud of you!
Dad

A… a picture? Twilight tore into the book, page after page flipping by. Teachers, no, first-year students, no—she paused to snicker at the colt version of her father. She turned over a whole hoofful of pages, and—color photos. The graduating class! Through the alphabet, R, S, T… nothing. She frowned at the book as if that might change what she saw.

Maybe it was a nickname. She returned to the beginning of the class and started over. A, B—and there he sat. Same white coat, same black mane. But no cutie mark—just a head shot.

Berry Tone. Heh. Made sense for somepony who liked music. But what did a red dot have to do with that?

Twilight slumped forward onto the tabletop. She had the cover halfway shut again when inspiration struck. The musical! Yearbooks always had pictures of class activities. She flipped to the front, and sure enough, sports teams, newspaper staff, language clubs, marching band… and one page later, the title proclaimed “Spring Musical.” In nearly every photo, Tone: coaching some of the younger performers, going over sheet music with the pit orchestra, mouth wide in song during opening night, posing on stage with the entire cast and crew… and always with the same mare next to him. She sang a duet with him, hung a hoof over his neck, or simply looked on with gleaming eyes. Peach Blossom, according to the caption. Cutie mark to match, too—cutie mark!

She scanned the pictures again, but not a single one showed Tone’s cutie mark. Exhaling sharply, she pounded a hoof on the table. It was like he’d managed to erase any record of his cutie mark from history!

Twilight snapped the yearbook closed and got up to reshelve the stack on the returns desk. Maybe it’d take her mind off things. But the first one on the pile… a foal’s picture book titled What Will My Cutie Mark Be?

“A funny thing, the cutie mark,” Tone had said. Yes, fate seemed to have a wonderful sense of humor lately.

“He’s hiding something,” Twilight said. She wanted to smile, yet she knew she shouldn’t.

“What, about his cutie mark?” Applejack asked from behind her wagon. She tossed in the last few empty baskets, then circled around to sit with Twilight.

“I doubt it. He enjoys music—that’s as far as I’ve gotten there.” Twilight squinted over to where Tone was packing up his cart.

“Maybe you should leave well enough alone, sugarcube. If he don’t wanna talk about it…”

Was she serious? “Applejack, what good has that ever done? If we hadn’t gotten you to talk about what was bothering you, I bet you’d still be processing cherries in Dodge Junction. If we hadn’t made Fluttershy and Rarity admit how they felt about Fluttershy’s modeling career, who knows how long that debacle might have gone on. And if Pinkie Pie hadn’t kept digging into what was bothering Cranky Doodle, she couldn’t have helped him find Matilda. Things turn out better when you face your troubles and talk about them.” She punctuated the undeniable truth with a nod.

“I dunno. If you’re certain…”

“I’ll be careful, Applejack. But I think it’s worth a try,” Twilight said. She took a step away and jutted her chin toward Tone. “I’ll catch up with you later. I at least want to say hello before he leaves.”

Twilight waved good-bye and trotted over to the strawberry wagon. “Hi, Tone.”

“Oh, hi there, Twilight,” he answered, looking up from unfolding a canvas sheet. “Missed you the last couple of days. Everything okay?”

He didn’t seem mad about the other day. But maybe she’d leave the subject of cutie marks for later. “Yeah, I just had other business. Hey, I asked my dad—he remembers you. He says he’s glad to know you’re doing well.”

“He… he does?” Tone let out a sigh. “That was a long time ago.”

Twilight eyed him for a moment, then relaxed her shoulders. “Dad let me borrow his yearbook—he looked so goofy in his photo, with his bowl cut and braces.” Twilight giggled. Immediately, his stiff posture softened, and he leaned against his cart. “I had no idea you knew so much about music, though. I mean, ‘Berry Tone’ is kind of a giveaway, but when I saw those pictures of you singing with Peach Blossom…”

His stare had wandered off to the horizon, and he pursed his lips. She hadn’t figured on that striking a nerve, but—no, he hadn’t scowled or anything. Still…

“Some things just get left behind. Look, I don’t mean to cut you short, but I really should get home before dark,” he said, picking up the canvas to drape it over his cart. “See you ’round.”

She watched him pull his wagon down the road until he’d disappeared behind a low rise. Peach Blossom…

In the library’s main room, Twilight sat reading while Spike scuffled around in the kitchen. Normally, her tummy wouldn’t growl like this right after dinner, but she’d learned to leave plenty of room for dessert lately, and she could smell the tempting aroma of some strawberry confection drifting about.

She’d flipped through every page of that yearbook at least five times in case Tone showed up somewhere else in it, but nothing. She kept returning to that one page with him and Peach Blossom singing together. The way they looked at each other…

Gazing out the window, she let her eyes go out of focus, and—her ears perked forward. Out in the street, a familiar purple mare…

Twilight rushed to the door. “Berry Punch!”

Berry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Um, hi, Twilight. Do you need something?”

“Could I borrow you for a minute?”

Berry shrugged and motioned to Roseluck to go on without her. “Sure. What can I help you with?”

Quickly, Twilight beckoned her inside and over to the desk, where the yearbook still lay open to the photo spread of the musical. “I borrowed this from my dad, and I thought you might find these pictures interesting.”

Berry immediately broke into a grin. “Oh, look at that! Uncle Tone and Aunt Blossom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this young.”

“Aunt Blossom?” Twilight gaped at her.

“Yeah. She was a sweet mare.” A faint smile crept onto Berry Punch’s lips, and she hugged her hooves to her chest.

Frowning, Twilight folded her ears back. Was a sweet mare. Nopony had mentioned Peach Blossom when the subject of Tone came up before, so… Twilight guessed the idea had already been nipping at the back of her mind, ever since she first saw them together. “What happened to her?” Twilight said gently.

Berry returned a stiff smile. “She died, about nine years ago, not too long after they moved back here. I hadn’t seen them in years and barely remembered them anyway. I was too young. But once they’d returned, she used to foalsit me a lot.”

“That poor pony,” Twilight mumbled. “It must be too hard for him to talk about her.”

“Huh? No, he doesn’t mind it. Why all the questions about Uncle Tone anyway?” Berry took a step back and squinted at Twilight.

Twilight widened her eyes and waved a hoof. “No, no, I’ve just spent some time talking to him when I stop by his stall at the market each day. He’s very friendly, but it seems like something’s bothering him. I thought maybe I could help.”

“Well, it’s not that,” Berry said.

“So they both liked music?” Twilight asked, tapping a hoof on the picture of them breaking into song together.

Berry nodded. “He did back then. At least I think so. Dad took me to see one of Uncle Tone’s shows—I must have been maybe three.”

“Is that his talent? I mean, I’ve never seen his cutie mark. I wonder if—”

Berry laughed out loud, and Twilight jumped at the outburst. “If I had a bit for every time… Twilight, everypony and her grandmother asks me that. And I’ll tell you the same thing I tell them: I haven’t seen it either, that I can remember. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I heard ponies talking about that, and then I realized I didn’t know.”

Twilight almost laughed, too, just… the absurdity of it all. What would it take to find out? “You didn’t see it when you were little?”

“Nope.” Berry shook her head. “Too young to care back then. After that, he spent years on the road, and when he moved back here, I guess he just had the apron on all the time. I never gave it much thought until everypony started making a big deal about it. Then I got curious, so I asked my dad, and he told me to let it go. So—” she shrugged “—maybe you should, too.”

“What good would it do to keep it all inside? I’d like to help.”

“Normally I might agree, but if it’s what he wants…” Berry’s eyes flicked toward the clock.

“But you don’t have to when you have friends.” Twilight’s thoughts drifted to Pinkie Pie again. What a great change she’d made in Cranky Doodle’s life because she cared enough to be the friend he didn’t know he needed.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Look—” she glanced at the clock again “—I’ve got dinner plans. Was there anything else?”

“Oh, no, no! I’m sorry for keeping you. And thanks for talking.” After seeing Berry Punch out, she returned to the desk and the pictures she’d pored over for so long lately. Berry Tone and Peach Blossom, in fancy costumes, elaborate scenery behind them, singing… but their eyes. Not singing to the audience, but to each other. Hoof in hoof, beaming from under the banner hung across the cast photo: Until Forever.

Twilight tapped a hoof to her chin. Then she grabbed a quill and an inter-library loan request form.

Making a beeline for Tone’s wagon, Twilight trotted through the marketplace. He had three customers in line, so she dawdled around the edges and slowly picked out two pints until they were alone.

“What is it today? Strawberry tarts?” he asked with a grin.

“No. Cheesecake,” she replied through a chuckle. “‘Equestria’s best,’ it promises, at least as of a copyright date of four years ago.”

“Hah! Well, you’ve gotten a keen eye for picking out berries by now. Don’t need me anymore.”

“Of course I do. Besides, I brought tea again.” Twilight glanced around at the crowd, but nopony was heading there at the moment. “Only if you have time, though. I know you have other shoppers to wait on, so don’t let me keep you.”

Tone shrugged. “Don’t see why not. As long as you don’t mind the occasional interruption, that is.”

She walked around to the back of the cart, upended an empty bushel basket, and sat on it. Her weight kicked up a little dust, and—she didn’t know why she liked that smell. This late in the afternoon, the traces of mud on the basket had all dried, and that aromatic mixture of sweet fruit, bitter wood, and musty earth had lately reminded her of Applejack’s farm. Funny that it’d speak to her that way. Unicorns shouldn’t really have a connection to that sort of thing. Not that she was exactly a unicorn anymore. Had she taken on some characteristics of—?

He was staring. She gave a guilty smile and levitated her usual bottle of tea out, along with the same two cups. “Sorry.” After pouring for them, she reached her magic toward her saddlebags again, but hesitated. She was doing a good thing here. She knew it. But Applejack and Berry Punch had cautioned her, and she supposed playing it slow made a reasonable strategy.

“So, you’ve lived here a lot longer than I have. I love the place, and I can certainly understand why ponies would want to stay, but… what about you? What made you move back here?” She wriggled into a more comfortable position on her seat. And stirred up some more of that intoxicating scent. She could pick out a bit of loam, some pine bark, at least three kinds of moss, plus some flakes of mica mixed in. The sharpness also indicated an acidity nicely suited for growing berries.

Her nerves tingled with the growing realization, but no. No time for that. She shook her head and watched him swirl his drink.

Tone took a sip and swished it around a moment before swallowing. “My father finally decided to retire, so I took over the farm. I didn’t have anything else important going on at the time, and it’s what I’d grown up doing, so why not?”

“You… you didn’t want to keep up with your music?” Twilight asked. He stared back, his face a stony mask. “I’m sorry—I’d heard you didn’t mind talking about her. About Peach Blossom.”

He leaned toward her and rolled his eyes. “Is that what this is all about? Twilight, I loved her dearly. Yeah I miss her, but that doesn’t make her off limits.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure.” Twilight couldn’t help smiling. Maybe she’d work on his cutie mark some other time, but for now, she could see it: she’d share an afternoon with him, listening to him reminisce about a loved one. Sounded like a friend to her. “I’d love to know what she was like. How did you meet?”

“In school,” he said, scratching his neck. “We had so many classes together, especially the music ones.”

“Oh, that’s right. You said your mother wanted to send you to the private school in Canterlot.” Twilight’s eyes gleamed. This couldn’t have gone any better!

“You know how mothers are,” he answered with a wry grin. Twilight nodded back at him. “I mean, c’mon. ‘Berry Tone’? She could convince Dad that it had to do with the family business, but she knew.” He stared off at the horizon for a moment, a rear hoof fidgeting against the wagon wheel. “Somehow, she knew. She’s lucky I didn’t turn out to be a tenor.”

“Mother’s intuition.” Twilight gave a gentle smile and half a chuckle. “I’m kind of excited to experience that. Someday.”

“Heh. Dad didn’t think much of the idea, but he didn’t see that it’d hurt, either. Get it out of my system, then come back to the farm, he thought. Took a lot longer than he figured, but turns out he was right.” Twilight squinted at him, and he met her gaze briefly. “So how’d you know I used to dabble in music?”

“The name was a big clue. But my dad let me borrow this.” Out from her saddlebag floated the old yearbook, and she flipped it open to the page she’d bookmarked before holding it up in front of him.

“Well, would you look at that? Old Peachy—I guess I should say ‘young Peachy.’ We made quite a team.” Leaning back against the cart, he blew across his tea. “Good times.”

Twilight giggled. “Peachy… Berry Punch called her ‘Aunt Blossom.’”

“Yeah. I wasn’t too big on having kids, so when we moved here, Peachy spent a lot of time helping raise her. They got along great.” He scanned over the photos again, and his eyes lingered on one. Twilight wished she knew which one, but she could make a good guess. “When did you talk to her?”

“A couple days ago,” Twilight said with a shrug. “I saw her passing by and thought she might like to see these old pictures. She remembered attending one of your shows.”

“Yeah…” Several times, he breathed in like he might say something, but he kept silent.

“So you made a career out of it? After graduating?”

Tone set his tea on the ground and folded his forelegs. “Long story short, the manager of a touring theater company heard that performance. He’d actually listened to a couple others I’d written in previous years, too, and he wanted to hire us. We joined up when their season started three months later and got married in the meantime.”

The smile had drained from his face, and he kept fiddling with his hooves. This time, she didn’t prompt him to continue. She just waited.

“After a few years of that,” he finally said, “the manager called me aside one day. Said he loved having me around, and my shows were always popular, but… he had other singers better’n Peachy.” Tone rubbed a hoof down his snout. “I-I couldn’t say he was wrong. She wasn’t the most technically gifted singer, but she more than made up for it in sheer joy.”

In silence, he watched a peach tree in the distance, in somepony’s side yard. The flowers had long since dropped off, and the branches now sagged under the weight of their fruit. “Thing is, she wouldn’t have cared. And both of our fathers would have agreed—with a name like that, you can probably imagine that she came from a big fruit-growing family, too. She never saw singing as anything more than a hobby, really. So instead of feeling insulted, I decided it was nothing more than a hobby as well. And since Dad had been pestering me to take over the farm anyway…”

Twilight pursed her lips. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing dramatic.” He scratched at his eye. Maybe an itch. Probably not. “No horrible accident, no devastating illness, no nothing. Just… her time. Pretty young for that, but it happens.”

Sorry. She wanted to say she was sorry, but what good would that do? He’d probably heard that enough times already. If she’d read him right, a friendly ear would do fine.

He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “I don’t dwell on that. I loved the time I had with her, and I won’t let self-pity take that from me.”

“What about the music?” Twilight’s eyes widened. “You didn’t give it up completely, did you?”

“An old hobby,” he replied flatly.

“But you were so good at it! Here…” Twilight shoved the yearbook back into her saddlebag and pulled out a stack of loose pages. “I thought the school might still have a copy of Until Forever, so I requested a loan.”

Page by page, she flipped through until she’d reached the final song, the one that gave the whole show its name. Too high for her, but she could take it down an octave. “Sorry, but I’m an alto,” she murmured. She cleared her throat and hummed through the first verse, and—

She stopped and stared at the page. The… the tune she’d heard from Derpy. Had she learned that while delivering mail to Tone’s place? On one of his records? A smile spreading across her face, she picked up again at the second verse.

“Through warm sun and gentle breeze,
Days of joy and life of ease,
I will hold you close
Until forever, love.”

“Twilight…”

“If all we’ve built has crumbled away,
And Fortune has had her cruel say,
I will stand by you
Until forever, love.”

“Twilight, please…”

“Your silken smile—”

“—lights my dreams,” he cut in with a rich, crystal-clear baritone, piercing the late afternoon air. She jerked her head up from the lyrics on the page below her—his face had blanched, and his eyes had fixed somewhere far beyond her.

“I am obsessed, I have confessed. Give you my best, I can attest.
I’m quite useless without you, it seems.
How can it be you’ve smitten me? My apathy has turned to glee.”

He swallowed hard, his voice beginning to rasp from his dry throat.

“Never knowing I could be so wrong about what Fate had planned all along.

“Please take my heart and hold it dear,
And when the storms of life appear,
No need to fear,
For I will love you
Un-until…”

His voice finally broke, fading to a whisper as his head dipped downward and the first teardrops hit the ground.

“…forever, love.”

A small crowd had assembled to listen, but now most slipped away as the rest looked on in awkward silence or stomped halfhearted applause. Every hair of Twilight’s coat stood on end. She froze, waiting to see whether she should give him a hug or keep her distance. At long last, the few remaining onlookers having dispersed, Tone raised his head.

He wouldn’t speak. Why wouldn’t he speak? Twilight needed to say something, but she’d be groping around in the dark at best. She had to try—a brief flash shone from under his apron.

“No…” He pulled the laces loose and shoved it off himself. And plain as day, that dull red spot. But not so dull anymore. It darkened to a deep blood-red, and then a spark danced across it, leaving black lines in its path. They traced out petals from the red, then a stem, then behind it… A rose, angled across a bass clef. “No!” he repeated, grimacing as if it were some foul demon clawing its way over him.

“I tried to tell you,” he growled.

“You… you said cutie marks were a funny thing. A-and asked if I’d ever thought about them,” she stammered. What was happening? Her stomach suddenly weighed a ton.

His face buried in the crook of a foreleg, he nodded hurriedly. “On your skin, in your coat… Tear it off, and it comes right back and takes over again. But what does it mean?” he barked.

“I-I-I always—” Twilight gulped. “I always thought it w-was an expression of-of what was in your heart.”

“And if it’s not in your heart anymore?” His eyes, like a foal who’d broken his favorite toy, and at long last realized nothing would bring it back.

“I don’t…” Twilight struggled to hold back her own tears. She’d never considered anything of the sort. What could make somepony lose that? “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did!” He sniffled hard. “I-I appreciate that you had good intentions, but you did mean it. Every bit.”

Her mind scrambled for an answer, anything that would explain, that would make him see. But he was right. He was completely right.

She’d failed.

“B-but…” Her mind raced. “The records. Derpy heard. Why?” What difference could it make now? Any reason to keep him talking. “You still listen—”

“That song was for her. Her and her only.” His voice broke again, gone from the rich baritone to a whimper. “That’s why I left. They wouldn’t let Blossom play the lead anymore, and I couldn’t listen to anypony else sing it. Or sing it to any other mare. So I kept singing it for her—to her, every day, at home, until…”

He got up, hurled his apron in with the stowed fruit baskets, and writhed his way into the wagon’s harness. “I haven’t sung anything since. Not a word. I didn’t want it back. But hearing somepony sing it in person again, I-I couldn’t help…”

In a scant few seconds, he already had the straps tightened and buckled. She didn’t have long to salvage something. “Wouldn’t she want—?”

“You’ve said quite enough already.” He gave a tug, and the cart’s axles groaned to life. After a few paces, he paused. “Tell Spike he’s welcome at my stall anytime.” And he resumed trotting for home.

“That bad, huh?” Applejack said.

Twilight nodded as much as she could with her chin resting on the wagon’s counter. “I still can’t imagine. What would make somepony give up their talent? I didn’t even know a cutie mark could do that.”

“Well…” Applejack muffled her voice with a hoof. “I kinda told you so.”

Twilight glared back. “You’re not helping. I really feel bad for him.”

“What’d he say again?” Applejack asked as she continued to load empty crates back onto her wagon.

For a minute, Twilight watched Spike, down at Tone’s wagon—he licked his lips and put two pints of strawberries in his shopping bag. “That it wasn’t in his heart anymore. That he didn’t want to sing if he couldn’t sing to her. I mean, I understand why he said it, but he still can sing. The talent didn’t leave him.”

“Hm.” Applejack gave the sort of thin frown that ponies do when they’d rather stay busy than offer their opinion. She tossed a stack of empty bushel baskets in the back and put out her last full one in front of her stall.

“He likes to listen to it on records, though. Derpy’s heard it. I don’t see the difference.” Really, if he sang it himself or on the record, it was still him. Twilight glanced down the road again, but she couldn’t tell if Tone had his apron on. Probably, or else she’d hear a buzz of conversation about it all over the market. She’d only told Applejack about his cutie mark, then promptly swore her to secrecy.

Applejack took a deep breath and sat on the ground, facing Twilight directly. “Have you lost somepony, Twilight?”

Twilight thought for a moment. “My grandparents, I guess. I didn’t know them too well.”

Nodding, Applejack said, “Can’t say as I know what goes on in Tone’s head more’n any other pony. But it seems to me on that record, he’s still singin’ it to her. Any other way, he ain’t.” She brushed idly at a bit of road dirt stuck to the nearest wagon wheel. “And you might’ve taken somethin’ that wasn’t yours. If that show got as popular as you said it did, why don’t you see anypony performin’ it today?”

True. He’d written it before the theater company hired him. He owned the rights to it. If not Berry Tone singing to Peach Blossom, then nopony would ever hear it—that was his point, she figured. Except for her little stunt. Hearing him sing belonged… to Peach Blossom, really.

Twilight slumped harder into the counter’s wooden surface. “I feel awful. I’d go apologize to him, but I don’t know if he’d listen right now.”

“Give it time, sugarcube,” Applejack said with a tip of her hat.

“Yeah. And not in public. I won’t make that mistake again.” Twilight let out a sigh and clenched her jaw. “I’m supposed to be the expert at this stuff,” she grumbled.

“Expert don’t mean perfect.” At the sight of an approaching customer, Applejack stood and walked over by her cash box. “You’re still learnin’. Ain’t that the best kind o’ teacher?”

With a tight-lipped smile, Twilight gathered up her saddlebags. Just about closing time, anyway. She’d give it a week or so, then head to Tone’s farm with a bottle full of tea and a throat full of apologies. Maybe she’d see if he could sing again. Other things, not the song. The talent hadn’t gone, and that had to mean something. She’d take it slowly, though. And she’d just ask him this time.

Spike had come scampering up the road, so Twilight crouched down to let him hop up on her back. Then she waved good-bye to Applejack and started home, with the scent of fresh strawberries surrounding her.