//------------------------------//
// The Crossroads 
// Story: Pomme Non-Pareils 
// by psimon 
//------------------------------//

Pomme Non-pareils: A story of Renewal
By Psimon


“Some seed fell among the thorns, and they grew up and choked it, but other seed fell on good soil and grew...”


Chapter 1: The Crossroads
“Next town?”
“Next town!”
They didn't look back. It could have been because they were too busy. It could have been because they had no need to. But, really, it was because it would have hurt a little too much. Sure, you're bound to find a worm in an apple every now and then, but this time... this way, at this place, it was different. It might have been the same in every other town, but Ponyville was special.
“It... it would have been grand,” said Flim as their great machine settled into its languid march towards their undecided destination; 'Anywhere but here' was enough of a wish for their magic to grant for now. They would pick the next town – if they picked it at all – soon enough. The machine, like either brother, would not complain about it.
His brother nodded in ascent, allowing himself some relaxation from the taxing chore of using magic. The machine, the real magical effort for it, was for cider. It might have been different for other unicorns, but they themselves were different from other unicorns. Lurching along as it did now was but a secondary effect, a means to an end, and as such had all the challenge of the simplest of cantrips for the brothers who built it together. Unicorn magic was a creative magic, after all... what made it hard was how much imagination you needed, not how much power. There was a difference between something being challenging and something being difficult, like the difference between galloping and keeping your balance. That difference was also to be found in what Ponyville had represented to them all along, though neither brother had thought that much about it yet.
Flam also relaxed his expression, allowing his true emotion to peek out through the rehearsed, plain expression he and his brother wore as easily as their hats, “That it would have, brother of mine.” His intonation only faltered the slightest of amounts. He drew out the 'r' in brother, rolling the r a little in the back of his throat, leaning into the front of the word then coming back up in pitch ever-so-slightly, like spackling paste over a crack in a wall. Any who would have heard them on the road would not have given it a second thought beyond some trick of his traveler's accent, a mish-mash of foreign and local that didn't fit in anywhere specifically. 
Flim began musing, as was his habit, “Zap apple cider... just think of the taste...” 
“A product for the ages,” Flam was again drawing out his 'r' to keep from sounding sad, even if he was disappointed. They had this discussion before even setting out for Ponyville, and now, it had a more somber tone to it. It felt more like a fleeting dream than a great plan born of their collaborative imaginations.
“A peerless apple. An apple that would have let the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 all but sing.”
“Art, in liquid form...” Flam finally joined his brother in a more imaginative syntax, deigning to release the sigh he had been imprisoning behind his words.
They shared a quiet nod, then, a quiet silence. It was neither hostile nor awkward, but a sort of empty, mournful feeling. This wasn't how they had planned it. For that matter, it hadn't gone according to plan from fairly early on, but only now on the other side of all the potential and excitement could they take stock of their wounds and failures. There were many, and enough to keep either brother occupied with his own depressing calculus.
Now, Equestria is, before all other things, a beautiful place. Quite often, thanks in large part to what is owed to Princess Celestia and the designs of her ilk, it is also an orderly place. There were patches, however, little loose threads on the tapestry of it all that tugged at such order and drifted away from such beauty. These were hardly places most ponies ever wanted nor needed to explore, and so amidst the ebb and flow of rumor, mischief, and simple curiosity their natures became inflated, misunderstood, perhaps even misrepresented. As the brothers rounded the path out of town, about the Everfree forest, they were able to gaze upon only the outermost layer of such a place.
Neither Flim nor Flam wondered aloud why it was called Everfree. Neither considered that they, too, might perchance to journey inside for the very apples they had descended upon Ponyville with the intent of securing... it wasn't even known to them that they had come from that forest in the first place; as they became one of the stories to be told about Ponyville's day-to-day histories, they were not exactly privy to all the other stories. But then again, Ponyville wasn't privy to theirs, either. Neither brother considered if that was part of the problem. They had a more pressing matter to attend to.
A crossroads approached in the distance, announced as much by the meandering paths leading out from it as by the stocky and splintered bottom-half of what was perhaps, once, a sign-post. This close to Everfree forest, there were certainly any number of reasons why it could have damaged and why it could not have been as of yet repaired.
Hypothetical situations aside, the brothers faced a definite situation: they did not know which road would, in fact, lead to that “next town.” After the long silence, both of them wanted to look towards the future. But with things as they were, they would spend the next portion of their journey running away from Ponyville instead of towards some unspoiled market.
The machine slowed to a halt, sputtering with a readiness to continue at a whim.
“Well, Flim?”
“Well, Flam...”
“It seems we're lost.”
“Lost? There's plenty of ways we know we don't want to go,” Flim nodded towards the looming boughs and flora of the forest, then tilted his head back in the direction they came from. “Other than that, what's to make one better than the other? Roads always go somewhere.”
“We don't want to just go somewhere,” Flam echoed his brother's intonation with the accuracy of a showman, “we want to go where we can do what we do best.”
“And that is...?” Flim asked some concluding question of an earlier, internalized debate.
“Why, have you forgotten? Our special talent, this splendid machine, the fruits of such labors as to...” Flam began recounting the list of how many Cider Squeezies had come before successful number 6000. There were, at least, not 5999 of them.
Flim was kind enough and patient enough to not interrupt. It felt kind of good to be reminded of their struggle, of all the things they'd been through and overcome before the Ponyville incident. Recalling the scars almost made the fresh wound seem less deep, less significant, and less painful.
“... And that, precisely, is why our destination imperatively must be a town, a town that grows apples, apples that we can turn to gold. Liquid gold, that is,” he gave a reassuring grin, in a better mood than his brother... or, perhaps, sensitive enough to know he could use a pep talk.
“You're indubitably right, Flam. Our special talent calls!” Flim nodded eagerly, with renewed spirit. “Shall we take the right road? It's our style to be right, after all.”
They shared a light laughter which opened their hearts again and closed some distance; humor has a way of cutting through cloudy moments, even when it isn't particularly called for. The machine lurched, springs sprung, cogs ground, and with just a nudge of magic, they were off again towards somewhere, with the confidence that they would be able to make it anywhere with the right know-how and smooth talking.
Shuffling out of the Everfree forest was another disenfranchised visitor of Ponyville. Hopelessly lost and hopelessly outclassed by much of what she had encountered, she sighed with guarded exasperation and relief upon finally finding something that wasn't more forest, and a road at that. With a tiny core of fiery pride that never would go out, she dusted her cloak, adjusted her hat, and resumed a slow and dignified gait down the path, her destination unfurling like some suddenly-adopted thing. She was bereft the comforting pep talk of the brothers who went before her, but she had ambition enough to make up for that and more. She was, after all, quite powerful... wasn't she?