Applejack was rather surprised to find that the doorway to Twilight’s basement was unlocked. She was even more surprised to find that nopony was there, either.
“Hello?” she said, nudging the door open with her nose. As she descended the steps, beakers overflowed and liquids bubbled. Beeping LEDs winked like Christmas lights, only more rigidly arranged. A tea set and an empty tray lay on an oak table. On one side was a folded piece of paper bearing the words: “For Applejack.”
“Well, ain't that a nice mug,” she said, picking it up and balancing it on one hoof. There were two apple insignias, one on each side. They both changed from dull grey to bright red as she rotated the mug for inspection.
Rather thoughtful of Twilight, she thought. Perhaps she'll be along in a while. She'd never tried stuff like this before, but hey, the gal had obviously put some effort into it.
Applejack took a sip of the tea. It was a little sweet at first, but it soon lost its sugary flavour. Then it tasted a little sharp, like citrus juice. Then her taste buds exploded. Applejack turned around, looking for a mirror, and was surprised when she stumbled. Her pupils began to spin over her whites, until soon her eyes were two spirals and she could barely keep upright. She dropped the mug. There was a flash of light, and then silence. Something heavy dropped to the floor, bounced, and lay still.
Applejack groaned as she lay on her side, and put a hoof up to her ponytail. The mug had vanished. She glanced about, but the fine china set was nowhere in sight.
"What in the hay was in that drink?” she said, climbing up the steps. "Twilight!"
With a nudge, she pushed the door back.
To her surprise, she came out in the middle of a vast meadow. The wind whistled through the grass. Stars twinkled overhead. Applejack gaped at the hills on the horizon. She looked back at the doorway, which sat alone in the middle of the meadow.
“Whoa," she said. “Ah’ve been hittin’ the bucks too hard again, haven’t Ah?”
“Time travel tea is, of course, best served cold, for only then is the chrono-distortion effect stable enough to drink without scalding the mouth,” said the lecturer. His voice travelled at roughly the same speed wheelchairs attained when piloted by old ladies with arthritis.
Before him sat three unicorns, one of whom was snoring into the desk. Another sighed.
“Otherwise," he continued, "the Brownian motion of the heated water will interfere, sending the drinker to any random place in the space-time continuum.”
One of the three unicorns tried an experiment which involved hitting the desk with his face very hard and checking to see if the lecturer noticed.
“It is also a good idea to add sugar and a lemon, because if you’re going to land in the middle of a civil war, you at least want to have enjoyed a good drink first.”
Amberfly Avenue in Hipparion is – or rather was, given that it is no longer there – a thoroughfare from horizon to horizon, dotted along its length by three rows of pony-sized standing stones made from pure amber. Wherever a pony stood along it, on one side was a wall of hedges and endless cathedral-like mansions. On the other side, however, there were only the grasslands of the park, with trees and bushes standing around like lost pedestrians with little to do. There was nothing remarkable here except for a massive granite colossus.
It depicted a pony rearing up on her hind legs, a luxurious mane spiking the air in all directions and mouth wide with joy. Nopony these days knew her name, though a bronze plaque at the slab of the statue read: “Amberfly the First, founder of Ambrosia town in the seven hundred and forty fourth year of our Princess Celestia’s rule.” A smaller bronze plaque beneath that read: “This statue was carved and erected by Hans the Clever Pony, whose own statue can be seen in the Ambrosian Gardens.”
Applejack found herself standing at the foot of the slab, examining the pony’s considerable dimensions. She'd followed the meadow to its edge, and to her relief she had stumbled across the road. If there was anything that looked like it could tell her what was going on, she was checking it over. The edifice rose overhead, dark against the pale clouds reflecting the coming sunbeams of dawn.
As she read the plaque, Applejack was distracted by a small filly gambolling across the grass. She was chasing after a butterfly as magenta as her fur, occasionally shaking her plait out of her eyes. Before Applejack could speak, the smaller earth pony rushed up to the landmark and stopped a few yards away. She looked up slowly as if her gaze was climbing Applejack’s legs and withers, until both ponies were locked in mutual stares. It was hard to read the foal’s face, but her whole demeanour was reminiscent of an actor under spotlights and with a bad case of stage fright.
Eventually, the newcomer opened her mouth.
“Your mane is weird, Applejack,” she said in a rush.
Applejack blinked at her for a while. “You… you know mah name?”
“Everypony knows your name," said the filly. She spoke as though her words were running for cover. "You’re the painter of the famous Night Watch Pony.”
Then she abruptly began fidgeting and looking at the grass beneath her. Applejack chuckled nervously. She wasn’t sure if this was normal foal teasing or something worth knowing about.
“Heh, you’re funny, li’l girl,” she said. There was no response for a while, which worried Applejack. “Listen, can you tell me where–”
“And you’re the founder of this town.”
Applejack hastily pointed to the statue as if alarmed it would come to life out of jealousy. “Nah, nah, that’s this filly here you mean. Ah read the plaque.”
“And you invented… vak-sin-hate-shun.”
Neither pony spoke for a while.
“Oh-kay,” said Applejack with mock joviality, “Ah guess we’re talkin’ at cross-purposes now. So if you could tell me where Ah could find the road back to Ponyville, Ah’d be mighty–”
“What’s Ponyville?”
Applejack took a second look over the pony in front of her. The apple bucker extraordinaire was now trying to work her way through this pony’s mind, and so far she had her down as an honest pony, if a pony torn between extreme admiration and extreme timidity.
“What’s yer name, li’l lady?” she said.
A voice drifted up from somewhere around the filly’s knees which sounded like: “Jelly Jade.”
“Jelly Jade, was it?”
“After my granma.”
“So Ah guess your family’d be in the jelly-making business, am Ah right?” When the filly nodded, Applejack continued: “Well, now, li’l filly – Ah mean, Jelly Jade – Ah’m in the apple business mahself. Maybe you’ve heard of me through that? Ah work up at Sweet Apple Acres. It’s one of the biggest apple farms in all of Equestria. Perhaps you recognise us as one of your suppliers?”
Jelly Jade nodded. Within some provinces of Equestria, “jelly” was another name for “jell-o”, and had she been born in any of them, she would certainly have been living up to her name.
Clouds were starting to brighten up now. Looking left and right, Applejack could see distant moving figures either end of the avenue, most likely carts.
“So, if you could tell Big Macintosh or Granny Smith where Ah am an’ that Ah’ll be comin’ back to Ponyville as soon as possible–”
“But there isn’t a Ponyville,” said Jelly Jade, her excitement briefly overcoming her awkwardness. “I don’t know anyone called Big Macintosh or Granny Smith.”
“O’ course, sorry. You’re probably too young to have much to do with the tradin’. Granny Smith and Big Macintosh are mah kin, see? They work on the farm with me.”
“No they don’t.”
Applejack cocked her head and scrunched her lips. Until now, she'd put the filly down as merely mistaken. She hadn’t put the filly down as a liar.
“Jelly Jade, can Ah call you JJ? Look, Ah wanna remain friendly towards you, but if you’re playin’ a joke o’ some kind, please leave it be now. Ah really need to get back there.”
“But it’s true,” said the newly-nicknamed JJ. “Brown Snout and Golden Noble own the farm. I never heard those other names before.”
Mumbling sounds drifted from either end of the avenue. The carts were now close enough for Applejack to make out their contents.
“Well,” she said, licking her dry lips. “It’s a good thing Ah’m thirsty, because when Ah get there, Ah think Ah’m goin’ to need a strong dose of Brown Snout’s special apple juice. Which way is it to the train station? Ah’ll take the fast route out of town.”
“What’s a train station?”
Applejack sighed. If this pony was opting for a career in comedy, she was going to have to buck up and do something about that stage fright. Actually telling some jokes wouldn’t go amiss, either.
“It’s where ponies go to catch the train,” she said.
“What’s a train?”
The crowds were now close enough for Applejack to make out details on the ponies’ clothes. She leaned in closer. “What’s the fastest ride this town has got?”
“We’ve got a hot air balloon,” said JJ.
“So long as the tea is taken by a sufficiently powerful magical being, the space-time continuum will only be mildly stirred,” continued the lecturer, while one of the unicorns measured out a length of rope. “This includes only a handful of unicorns, but it should be possible for, say, a student of Princess Celestia to hold their own during a slipstream.”
The other two students pulled a chessboard out of one desk, balanced it on the two desks between them, and started setting up the pieces.
“If, however, a pegasus – or worse still, an earth pony – were to take the beverage…”
Sweet Apple Acres looked the same as ever: a baroque barn of crimson planks and floorboards, surrounded by white fencing and endless rolling hills with apple-laden trees. The hot air balloon touched down before the house, and Applejack hopped out.
“Thank y’all ever so kindly for the lift,” she said, as two ponies with goggles poked their heads out of the balloon’s basket.
“Not at all, my dear Miss Japple-Ack,” said the green one, loosening his scarf.
“And thank you for the wonderful stories,” said the brown one, flashing brilliant white teeth. “What a wonderful imagination you have, fit for an inventor.”
“You should consider a career in novel writing.”
As they blasted the flame to full power, the hot air balloon began to rise towards the clouds. Applejack watched them go, jaw agape and brow creased.
“Ah weren’t makin’ it up,” she shouted. “It was really important that y’all understood where Ah was comin’ from! Y’all hear me?” When the roar died away, she watched her hooves instead and pawed at the ground, clenching her teeth.
The front door creaked open and Applejack strode into the barn. “Hey, y’all! Guess who’s come back!”
She faltered to a stop, which was just as well because she nearly bumped into the long table set out in the middle of the room. That would have knocked off the two plates of steaming apple pie and would have disturbed the fine silver cutlery. It would also have inconvenienced the shrivelled figures on either side.
They were two ponies to be sure, but one was golden and the other was chocolate brown and neither one looked like Granny Smith. Indeed, both looked like they had been soaked in bathwater and left to dry in the Appleloosa desert, and like the silence that now smothered them, everything had clearly been left out for far too long.
They stared at each other for a long time. It was like a contest to see who could be quietly scared the longest.
“Thanks for letting me use your bedroom,” said a voice from upstairs, and from a side door came a third pony. “My horn still feels a little funny, but I guess that was just the… tea…”
Twilight froze at the sight of Applejack.
“Oh,” said Twilight, attempting a smile. “H-Hi, Applejack. F-Fancy seeing you here so soon.”
“Ah live here,” Applejack said, swiftly getting nose-to-nose with the unicorn. “As you well know.”
“I-I… can we talk over lunch?”
The elderly couple began to tremble on their haunches. Applejack noticed, and her eyes hardened.
“How ‘bout a nice long drink?" she said to Twilight. "Cos Ah think you’ve got a whole lot of explainin’ to do.”
“…the universe as we know it would be thoroughly shaken.”
The lecturer cleared his throat, and the students rapidly hid away their chess board, scattering pieces about them and slamming the lids of their desks shut. All three students beamed at him as his suspicious gaze swept over them.
The door opened. Twilight trotted in, which made the pony students look around in their chairs. Applejack traipsed in after her.
"Good morning, Professor Latitude," said Twilight brightly.
“I say,” said Professor Latitude. “What is this?”
“Sorry for the interruption, sir,” said Twilight. “But we did book this room for three onwards.”
The professor’s horn glowed, causing the apparatus on the desk to rise. “Oh, it’s you, Miss Sparkle. Of course, of course. I hadn’t realised we’d run over.”
All three students breathed out, and before anyone could speak they got up and zipped out the door. The professor shook his head sadly. He carried his things out after them, but paused at the doorway and turned around.
“Students these days!" he said. "I wish they had half your enthusiasm, Miss Sparkle.”
“Thank you, professor,” Twilight replied as he went out the door. Once the door was shut, Applejack pulled up a chair. Being a pony, she had to pull with her jaws.
“All right, Twilight,” she said, letting go of the chair. “Ah ain’t gonna mince words. What did you do to me?”
“Excuse me?” said Twilight. Her bright smile vanished.
“You left me some weird brown stuff in the mug.” Applejack threw herself into the seat and didn’t speak until the chair stopped rocking. “That foul coffee.”
“It was tea.”
“It tasted like pig swill, whatever it wuz. You set it up for me, din’t yer? All that nonsense about wanting tips on baking apple cake was jus’ so much flim-flam, weren’t it?”
Twilight sighed and hung her head, more out of exasperation - it seemed - than out of shame. “It was the only way to get you here. Besides, I had to get everything prepared.”
Applejack slipped off her chair as Twilight approached the chalk board. “Get what prepared?”
Twilight nudged a piece of chalk with her nose. It began spinning on the spot, and the chalk board flipped up and revealed a huge round chamber. The other side of the room seemed to be a kilometre away. The ceiling was somewhere above, with barred windows lining the brim of what looked like a giant metal cauldron of a room. Pillars were spaced out, apparently at random. There were some steps leading down, and a maze made out entirely of bookcases.
“It took forever to set this up.”
Applejack couldn’t stop staring. “Weren’t there… a classroom next to this one? Where this thing’s s’posed to be?”
“Overlapping space-time. Don’t think too hard about it, or it’ll make your head hurt.” Noticing her friend’s wide eyes, Twilight waved a hoof in front, breaking the spell. Applejack shook her head, grinned apologetically, and followed when Twilight began descending the steps.
What in Equestria would Twilight be doin' here? Applejack eyed up the shelves. She's the book-likin' kind, Ah know that, but she wants me here. Why did she want me? She blushed angrily. Is this some sort of magic test she's roped me into?
As they passed through the first aisle, Applejack and Twilight heard the scraping of wheels and saw a ladder zip round the corner. Spike was on the topmost rungs, balancing a stack of tomes on one hand and rapidly filling in shelves with the other.
"Incoming!" he shouted. The ladder sped past them.
Soon, the top shelf was filled and Spike’s hands were empty, which was good as this allowed him to push two levers on either side of the ladder. Brakes reached out of the wood and the ladder wheels screeched to a halt. Spike jumped down, wiped his hands, and smirked up at the completed shelves.
“Excellent timing, Spike,” said Twilight.
“Hey, Twilight! Hey, Applejack! OK,” said Spike, before belching up a scroll and catching it in his claws. He went through the long list, getting through the curling tangle of paper. “That’s the Paleopony, the Mesopony, and the Neopony periods, the Stables, the Tutors, the Muddy-Regal times, the time of the Founding Fillies, the Vilification reign, the Simple War between the Horseheads and the Round Colts, the Spice Age, the Sugar Age, and the Everything Nice Age.” He held out an expectant claw. “Owlowiscious?”
A brown owl swooped overhead and a feather dropped from its belly. It landed neatly in Spike’s claws without his eyes even leaving the page. He started ticking off the items on the list. Applejack watched patiently, lips pursed, as Twilight beamed proudly down at the baby dragon.
“That should be all of them, Spike. Could you take a moment and fetch Applejack and me something to eat?” said Twilight.
“Sure,” said Spike, rolling up the parchment. “What’ll it be? Apple pie? Apple fritter? Apple dumplings? Carrot cake?”
“Actually," said Applejack, "Ah’d jus’ like a word with–”
“Carrot cake. Got it,” said Spike, appearing not to have heard a thing. He hurried down the aisle, round the corner, and out of sight. Twilight walked on, leaving Applejack to drift in her wake, fuming.
So you were plannin' this, thought Applejack as she ambled along. There ain't no way this was set up on the spot. An' that makes it worse, 'cos now Ah gotta wonder how long you've been waitin' for me to show up and drink that stuff.
They eventually reached a small room, or more accurately a square made by four towering bookcases, one of which had a gap that acted as a doorway. Twilight sat down on the other side of the round table there, while all around her origami ponies cantered along shelves, picking out books and rearranging them. The figures all glowed with yellow light. Applejack hesitated at the entrance and refused to sit. Twilight was taking this a little too calmly for her liking.
“Twilight, Ah’m still waitin’ for some explainin’,” she said.
“Applejack," said the unicorn. "I know you’re not prancing to see me right now, but please hear me out.”
Applejack's eyes narrowed. “You tricked me, Twilight.”
“I had a good reason. Please believe me when I say that I wouldn’t do such a thing if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.” Twilight was trying to be businesslike.
Still narrow-eyed, Applejack guided herself over to the empty side and placed her rump delicately onto the marble floor. It was like sitting on a hilltop in winter, but she gritted her teeth and didn’t dare stand up.
“Yer can set mah mind at rest by telling me where we are first,” she said.
“We’re in Canterlot. Princess Celestia gave me permission to use this room.”
“An’ we got here from Sweet Apple Acres how?”
Twilight gulped. “This is going to be a tricky conversation. Um… we jumped, you see, from there to here.”
“No we din’t," said Applejack. "We walked.”
“Not that kind of jumping. I mean, we walked through a door there, and then it took us to this place. Magically.”
Applejack thought back to the door. It had been weird, but after the library's basement door, she had been less surprised. She tried to rally her resolve. She should have been back on the farm with her siblings right now.
“But that door leads to storage," she said carefully. "It always led to storage. Not to a corridor in a school for gifted ponies.”
“Magically." Twilight shrugged helplessly. "It’s magic.”
“Ah ain’t buyin’ it. You’re powerful, Twi, Ah’ll give you that, but since when have you been sewing bits of Equestria together willy-nilly? You ain’t got that kind of power, Ah’ll bet.” She leaned across the table, almost asking the question with her one eye focused on her friend's own. There was barely a flicker. Applejack felt her backbone tense.
Twilight sighed. “It’s become much easier to do recently.”
“Food is served!” Spike strode in, balancing a tray of plates over his head. For reasons that Applejack presumed made sense to the dragon, he’d donned a black jacket and a bow tie, and had a white towel draped over his other arm. The tray was placed lovingly onto the table. Each plate was adorned with a veritable masterpiece of pastry-based cuisine.
Twilight thanked Spike, and levitated two selections from the tray. Spike bowed, reverently took the tray, and then tipped the remaining plates into his mouth and began munching the china as he walked out.
“There’s a story I have to tell you,” said Twilight, pushing one of the plates across to Applejack. “It’s long, so take your time with that carrot cake.”
Applejack looked down at it. The slice was overflowing with icing, and there seemed to be too many layers and too much cream. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry.
“There’s a crisis going on all across Equestria,” said Twilight. “Or at least there was. Or there will be. It’s very confusing.” She shook her head and straightened up. “It’s about time.”
“About time? You want there to be a crisis?”
“That came out wrong!" Twilight took a breath as if to steady herself. "I mean, it’s about history. History is in trouble. Holes are popping up in the space-time continuum, and I think it’s just getting started.”
Applejack rubbed her ears. “You’re gettin’ to be as bad as Zecora, you know that? If yer can’t talk normal-like, then jus’ let me go right now.”
“I am talking normal. And I mean every word: history is in trouble.”
“Ah don’t speak gobbledegook. What in tarnation are you sayin’?”
“Look!” Twilight’s horn glowed, causing an origami figure to hop off the shelf and onto the table, laden with a heavy book. It strode up to Applejack and stopped next to her untouched cake, held up Famous Fillies from the Ancient Pegasus Empire, and with a flick of its folded forelegs, opened the book.
Two pages stared back at her. Both of them were blank. A few gnat-like stars rose from the pages, then vanished.
“And it’s still happening,” Twilight said.
A flick shifted the page, revealing a double column of minute typeface and releasing another scattering of stars. As Applejack watched, all the words vanished and the stars disappeared not long after.
“It’s the same in most of the history books I’ve checked so far. Fragments of history are being torn away and the Princess and I think there must be a way to heal the wounds.”
“Well, why’s this happening?” Applejack nudged the book, accidentally knocking the origami figure onto its back.
“We weren’t sure, but I think the history books are being rewritten. The missing fragments are being worked out, century by century.”
“That’s pretty hefty.” She whistled.
“I know.”
“An’ Ah come into this how, exactly?”
Twilight levitated the book and the origami figure and returned them to the shelf, turning her back on Applejack briefly. “History needs to be guided back to its original course. Fortunately, at the moment there’s a slight opening in one or two spots. I just need a pony who can go in, fill in a few small blanks, and come out safe and sound." She met Applejack's eyes. "Celestia and I would take care of the rest.”
“Again, why jus’ me? Why not bring in our friends? Like Rarity.”
Twilight shook her head. “Some of those times could get rough.”
“Mmmm." Applejack tipped her cowboy hat back. "Fluttershy?”
“Not for the parts of history I had in mind." She pulled a face. "Do you know what they do to rabbits in the Paleopony period?”
Applejack paused for a moment. “Rainbow Dash?”
“Not subtle enough. Besides, I thought she’d get distracted by the wars.”
It took a long time before she came out with the next name: “Pinkie Pie.”
Twilight blushed. Neither of them could quite meet each others' eyes. “I… don’t think this is really her thing. Not without supervision, anyway. You’re the most reliable pony I know, and I only needed one quick job done.”
“For apple’s sake, Twilight! Why din’t you just ask me?”
Twilight swallowed, preparing for the hurdle. “Technically, I did. I asked you if you could come over later and help out with something.”
“You din’t mention this.” Applejack waved around at the stacked bookshelves, the high ceiling, and the scurrying origami figures.
“I thought you wouldn’t believe me if I just told you, and, well, you don’t – now don’t take this the wrong way, Applejack, please do not, but… you would have thought I was making it up. You would have thought I was lying. And–”
“And what?”
“Well…” Twilight tapped her chin with a hoof. Then she looked past Applejack, and her eyes widened. “The bookshelf is falling!”
Applejack bounced back onto all fours and reared her back legs, ready to hold up the shelf. Which wasn’t falling. Applejack skewed her jaw.
“Er, Twi, what was that all about?”
Twilight chewed her lip, then her ears pricked up and an idea flashed behind her eyes. A slight twitch of her ears was all the reservation she had before she came out with: “I never liked your apple cake. Never have, never will!”
Applejack’s face seemed to be trying to eject her eyes and jaw. “What? You mean you lied this whole time?”
“No, I just made that up on the spot! You see, this is what I’m talking about." Twilight stood up and paced up and down, along the side of the table in agitation. She never let her serious gaze stray from Applejack. "You don’t like lies, and you don't react well when I lie. What was I supposed to do? I mean, how would it have sounded? Why, the number of history-related accidents within the past one thousand years is precisely one point zero to the nearest decimal place!”
Applejack stood up and blocked Twilight's way. She didn't want to seem aggressive, but Twilight's pacing was getting on her nerves. “So, instead of that, you thought it would be better to lie to me to get me here?”
To Applejack's surprise, the unicorn met her muzzle to muzzle and refused to back down. “Technically, I didn’t lie.”
“You din’t tell the whole truth neither, an’ that’s a different kind of lyin’.” Applejack backed off. “Twilight, if this is a choice, then Ah want mah options, fair ‘n’ square. What exactly do you want me to do?”
“So you’ll do it?” Twilight leaned forwards.
“Ah din’t say yes, an’ Ah din’t say no. Either way, there'll be words once this little meetin’ is over.”
There was a long pause. Twilight's hooves clopped against the flagstones as she returned to her seat behind the desk. Gently, she coughed, beckoning Applejack to sit opposite her.
It wasn't something she could rush into. Slowly, Applejack made her way back to her seat.
“OK," said Twilight. "It won’t be anything out of your league. We’ve identified four keystones in Equestrian history. All we need you to do is fill in four positions.”
Applejack glared up at the rows and rows of books. “Fill in?”
“It’s like play-acting. Remember the pageant in Canterlot? It’s just like that. Anyway, go to each one in turn, do whatever needs to be done, and then sit tight. We’ll bring you back here.”
“That's it? What kind of roles am Ah expected to play?”
A purple flash made Applejack jump back from the table. Spike was dangling from a bungee harness over the table, attempting a winning smile. He held up a book.
Twilight raised a hoof to help the dragon. “Spike and I will give you directions with these history books. Don’t worry; we’ll be right here to help you through it.”
The harness snapped, and Spike crashed into the table, the legs of which collapsed.
“You don’t make it sound too hard,” said Applejack over the wreckage. “But if Ah say no, you’d send me back to the farm an’ find somepony else to take my place, right? There is an option to opt out, isn’t there, Twilight?”
Twilight only hesitated for a half-second. “Of course. Here.”
Once more, the purple glow rose from the depths of her horn. The origami figures had been patiently removing books from a shelf behind her, and now all the remaining books in the middle slid to the ends like curtains, making way for an incoming plate. The plate landed on Spike's head while he still lay groaning.
There was a second carrot cake on it. This one was more conservative than the last. For one thing, it had barely enough icing to cover a full stop on a checklist. For another, it had one layer of cream, though only a close-up would reveal it.
“If at any time you feel it’s getting on top of you,” said Twilight, “take a bite out of this cake. The spell inside will transport you back to Sweet Apple Acres.”
Applejack peered at the slice. Then she frowned at Twilight. “OK, then, Ah accept.”
“I understand if you don’t want to – wait, really?”
“Ah accept. Your method of askin’ is a li’l unorthodox, but if it’s a friend in need, you can count on me. They don’t call me ol’ reliable for nothin’.”
Twilight clapped her hooves together, squealing, and zipped round the table, snatching Applejack in a tight embrace.
“Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!” She let her go. Applejack flexed her legs, wincing. “Let’s get started at once!”
“Ah jus’ have one question,” said Applejack, once she could feel her hooves again.
“Ask away, ol’ reliable!”
“This whole thing sounds mighty touchy. What would happen if Ah din’t–”
Applejack hiccuped. For some reason, Twilight’s body jolted, her pupils shrank, and there was a warming around Applejack’s entire skin.
"Applejack!"
“What? What’s wro–”
Everything glowed red. Twilight and the library shrank into the distance, and before Applejack could speak, all the air vanished. Her ears popped.
Applejack barely noticed anything else until the ground rose up to hit her.
When she came to, a tuft of grass was stuck up her left nostril. Her tongue was dry, and her mind seemed to be launching a violent protest against the way it had been treated recently. She blinked and rubbed her temple. At least she still had her hat on, but at this rate she'd probably lose it. The workhorse gave an experimental shake. All limbs present and correct.
Finally, she rose onto her hooves and wiped the dizziness out of her eyes. Birds were singing overhead. A gale roughed up the grass around her pasterns. The air was stifling. It seemed to clog up her lungs every time she breathed in.
Where the hay am Ah? she thought.
A quartet of hooves thundered over the hill towards her. Applejack turned around.
"I say!" shouted the thing bearing down on her. "It's jolly lucky I found you! Do you know anything about spavins?"
