Haunted Hayride

by Estee

Rating: everyone
Tags: Applejack, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash
Length: 8731

Rainbow and Applejack just made a wager on whether the latter can get a reaction out of the former with the farm's seasonal attraction. What's the only thing which could make that wager better? Cider. Lots and lots of cider.

The Acres set it up every year as Nightmare Night approaches: an old-fashioned haycart taking a Moon-lit tour of the property, with fillies and colts shrieking at the traditional fake horrors. And Rainbow? Thinks that's boring. It's the same stuff every time. None of it would ever scare her. Nothing Applejack could come up with is even capable of getting a reaction.

Applejack decides to treat that as a challenge.

And then cider gets involved.

(A stand-alone, no prior-reading-necessary part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group: new members and trope edits are welcome. )

Now with author Patreon, SubscribeStar, and Ko-Fi pages.

Published 2017-02-27 02:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-02-27 02:40:01 UTC

For A Given Definition Of 'Reaction'.

As far as Rainbow was concerned, the start of autumn's second moon was Spend Extra Time With Applejack Season.

Or, to be a little more detailed and slightly more unfair about it, Spend Lots And Lots Of Extra Time With Applejack, Who's My Best Friend In The Whole World And The Fact That I'm Just Realizing And Acting On This Now Is Pure Coincidence, Seriously, It's Not Like I Haven't Seen Her At All Since This Time Last Year, And It's Not Like I Have An Ulterior Motive Or Anything Season.

It wasn't as if Rainbow didn't visit Applejack fairly often in the first place, although she had to be careful about when she dropped by the Acres. The early evening, now that was usually all right: if she timed it properly, her hoof would knock on the door just as the entire family would be sitting down to a home-cooked meal, and Rainbow knew they always had enough for a guest on those nights when she just didn't feel like cooking for herself (which was pretty much all of them): oddly, the table would often be set for five. During the day, however... well, drop by from early spring through late fall during the day and there was a chance of being roped into work, at least for anypony who was too distracted by their own attempts at acquiring free samples to hear the lasso's loop closing in. Anypony wanting to both catch Applejack under Sun during free time and preserve their own needed to wait for the winter, when the farmer's endless labors dropped down to more of a background level which was still six times the amount of effort Rainbow personally wanted to put in on earning a daily living.

That part of the year wasn't all that far off now. The portion of the crop which Applejack had brought to the town's market square was very nearly the last of it, at least for what could be sold in the market at all. The family was very close to their rest, which would start after they wrapped up one final very intense time of labor. Rainbow appreciated that, especially since she'd recently been spending so much time hanging around her Seriously, I Care About Her More Than Anypony Ever, Now Why Are You Looking At Me Like That? friend Applejack in the name of finding out just when that labor was going to begin.

Most of Ponyville had just wrapped up its lunch hour, which meant the majority of shoppers were leaving the market: some heading back to their own establishments, others to their homes, and Rainbow swooping down in front of the cart with a treat for her friend ready in her saddlebags, because Applejack couldn't leave the cart during the lunch hour. She was too busy with selling things to other ponies for tending to herself and so if Rainbow didn't take a moment for her seasonal best friend in the whole world, then seriously, who was going to do it?

"Heya," Applejack greeted her. "Wasn't expectin' y'back so soon after this mornin'. What's up?"

"I just thought you might be hungry," Rainbow considerately declared. "For something which wasn't apples. So I dropped by Sugarcube Corner --"

"-- Granny packed me somethin'," Applejack broke in. "Leftovers from last night. Y'remember."

Rainbow did, and repressed a brief shudder of horror: a member of her weather team had spotted her leaving Ponyville and intercepted to ask for advice on a minor wind adjustment. Not only had Rainbow nearly wound up dealing with the Tartarus-freed nightmare that was personal unpaid overtime, but she'd very nearly missed the dumplings.

"But," the earth pony continued, "Ah hardly mind a little chance of pace. Thank y'kindly, Rainbow. So whatcha get?"

"Croissants."

"An'..." Orange lips twisted in confusion. "...what are they?"

"No idea," Rainbow admitted. "But Pinkie said they're fluffy."

"Fluffy," Applejack carefully repeated. "Seriously?"

"For Pinkie," Rainbow admitted. "I dunno. I sort of felt like I was in the mood for fluff. Want to split the first one?"

They did. Both chewed thoughtfully.

"Lotsa inside layers for fluff," the farmer decided. "Good taste, though."

Rainbow immediately thought of something which tasted even better. "Yeah, it's not bad. So what are you doing tonight?"

Applejack shrugged, then trotted around to the front of the cart, checking on her stock's display. "Not much," she admitted. "Gonna leave here a little early t'day, if'fin Ah can. When the apples are at this color, these types..." A little smile slowly manifested on her features. "That was the sign, t'day. That it's time t' start."

The pegasus automatically arced her neck forward.

"Seriously? You're starting on it today?"

It was happening. All the time she'd put in, all the subtle hints (she thought they'd been subtle) which the Apples had ignored, and now her Very And Truly Best Friend Ever was just about to tell her everything Rainbow had worke -- just coincidentally happened to learn while spending some extra time with Applejack, who really deserved the honor of Rainbow's presence. Especially right now.

"Well, t'night, technically," Applejack mildly corrected as her right forehoof poked at an apple, pushing the more polished side towards Sun. "But it's time. The family an' Ah --"

It's the family, it's the whole family starting on it from the first night, this is going to be the best year ever --

"-- need t' get the hayride set up. An' it's best t' start under Moon, so we can see how it looks at night. So if'fin y'were thinkin' of droppin' by, Ah wouldn't say no t' a little help getting some of the swingin' pieces hoisted --" and stopped.

Slowly, "Rainbow?"

A weary "What?"

"Y'look like y'jus' got kicked."

Which, Rainbow felt, was a perfectly appropriate way for a pony who'd been putting in hours on trying to get any kind of lead on when to expect the first day of cider season and had just found herself being given the inside scoop on a hayride to look. But it wasn't as if she could tell her Maybe Not Quite Best Friend that, and so the frustration expressed itself as a groan.

Which, in soon-to-come retrospect, was the first mistake.

"Somethin' wrong?"

The second mistake came right behind it, carried on a fall breeze which nopony ever properly thanked Rainbow for, one which carried the distant scent of burning leaves as it wafted her next groan to every part of Ponyville. "That's boring."

The green eyes narrowed. Rainbow decided some smoke had gotten into the current. It was perfectly okay to burn leaves as long as ponies were careful and the smell could even be something special, but when smoke got involved...

"Say what now?"

"Your hayride. It's boring."

A powerful foreleg twisted. The suddenly-planted right hoof began to carve a little circle into the ground, one half-rotation at a time.

"Borin'," Applejack repeated.

Rainbow blinked. How could she not know? "You do the same thing every year! A few fake skeletons with strings hanging down and when you pull the cart by, you yank on the string, it drops until it's almost in the cart, and the kids just pretend to scream! Branches rustling because somepony kicks the tree just right, you tell the old ghost stories which you know were just made up, everypony knows they're made up... I know it's some extra bits for the farm, Applejack, and maybe it's even some kind of dumb tradition, but everypony in town knows what to expect from your so-called haunted hayride, every hoofstep of the way! Nopony's ever scared! Nopony reacts!"

"Mah Daddy," Applejack slowly said, "bought those fake skeletons."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then that's why they look so bad now," Rainbow reasoned. "Chalk doesn't hold up. Plus the wires are getting rusty. Applejack, the only thing anypony should ever do on your hayride is fall asleep. You've gotta switch it up! You've got to find stuff which makes ponies do something! I mean, I'd never be scared by anything you guys do." And, with decidedly more speed, "Not that I get scared. Ever. Of anything. But I wouldn't react. Every colt and filly who pretends to be trying to get out of the haycart is doing just that: they're pretending. I've never taken your haunted haycart ride because from what everypony says, it's boring, and you should have known that if I wasn't doing it --"

The left forehoof stomped. Apples tumbled from their baskets. The farmer didn't notice.

"Yer sayin' Ah can't scare nopony."

"Well, not with what you've got now," Rainbow declared as a small, almost entirely ignored part of her at the very back of her brain decided that an Applejack whose nostrils had just flared that wide might be more than a little scary for anypony who couldn't get in the air in time, which obviously excluded Rainbow. "Not with the same old stuff. But if you want to hear some ideas --"

With tones dropping, "Mah Daddy never scared nopony. Not in all the years he was haulin' the haycart in the week leadin up t' Nightmare Night. Our tradition for the town." The blonde tail moved: a single mighty lash. "Nopony at'tall."

"Look, I'm just telling you the truth! I thought you'd appreciate that! It's boring!" Wasn't she better off hearing it from a friend?

"An'," the farmer finished, right hoof now scraping at the dirt, "Ah couldn't scare you."

Rainbow's eyes went wide with indignation. "That's not fair."

"How so?"

"Nopony could scare me. So it's not fair to judge yourself just because you can't do it."

Applejack took what seemed to be an oddly slow breath, one deep enough to seemingly make every muscle along the solid body shift in turn.

"Reaction, then," she eventually said. "Ah couldn't get you t' react."

"No," Rainbow solidly stated, and prepared to help her friend. A few new ideas would really help the hayride and if that meant putting in some work, well, at least she'd be high among the branches. There were places where that would put her close to the cider apples. She could see if they were nearly ready. "You couldn't. Now, for starters, you've gotta ditch those chalk things. Maybe donate them to Cheerilee. Not for anatomy lessons. The blackboard --"

"-- wanna bet?"

Rainbow's ears rotated forward, dipped low.

"What was that?"

"Do. You. Wanna. Bet?" Applejack slowly said, every word punctuated by its own hoof stomp. "That Ah can't put t'gether a hayride which gets a reaction out of you. Wanna. Bet?"

And slowly (also in near-retrospect, far too slowly), Rainbow began to smile.

"Depends," she said. "What's the terms?"

They didn't make the official bet until they'd gotten Twilight and Pinkie together in front of the library. Experience had taught them it was best to have witnesses and as the terms were negotiated, the number of ponies serving as extra ones increased. After all, there was nothing quite like street theater.

"All right," Twilight eventually said, nosing the paperwork forward. "Here's what we've got so far. Applejack gets one week to prepare. She can use anything she can find or gather in the name of getting Rainbow to react, but nothing can actually attack the cart. There can never be a real threat. And if Rainbow reacts -- which we're defining as screaming or leaving the cart --"

"An' fallin' asleep," Applejack reminded her. "'cause if'fin it's so boring that she takes a nap, she'll miss her chance t' see all of it. So Ah say fallin' asleep counts for a loss."

"It means you lost," Rainbow insisted. "If it counts for anything, it should count for criticism."

"It means y'couldn't be bothered t' pay attention," Applejack shot back. "Or took a nap in self-defense."

Rainbow prepared to argue, as putting that in the terms would effectively take out a plan, one self-defense would have been no part of: just curl up and declare herself the winner at the end. "It's not my fault if you can't get past the boring --"

"-- no, I'm with Applejack," Pinkie decided. "I say you have to stay awake for all of it. Besides, how can you really brag about not being scared by any of it if you don't see what it all was?"

There were times when Pinkie had a point, and nearly all of them wound up annoying Rainbow. "Fine. No falling asleep. But in that case -- one standard ride, Applejack. One, at a normal trot. No going so slow that it takes hours. No going around and around until it's almost morning and nopony except you could stay awake that long anyway."

The earth pony snorted, and Rainbow knew she'd just cut off one of the farmer's plans -- as did two of the spectators, and they had to wait for the brief outburst of hoof-stomping applause to fade. "'Fine. Ah'll have Twilight time me after everythin' is set up, get you the number before we start. Ain't gonna promise it on the second, but you'll know Ah wasn't stallin'."

"And," Rainbow added, feeling as if she was thinking with dizzying speed, "you can't rig the cart."

"Yer pardon?"

"If leaving the cart means I fail, then no springs in the cart. Or seesaws, or catapults."

Darkly, "Don't trust me?"

"Maybe I would if I hadn't raced you."

The green eyes narrowed again. "No riggin' the cart. Twilight, y'writin' this down?"

The field-enveloped quill moved. "Yes. I think we're just about done with the outline. But we should really record the wager before we work out any more details."

Rainbow frowned. "What do you mean, the wager? We told you: it's a bet."

"Well..." The librarian looked briefly helpless. "...nopony said what you're playing for."

The answer should have been 'pride'. Showing off. Being better. But Rainbow was thinking at a speed she'd hardly ever known, had already had something on her mind for days, and so the word came.

"Cider."

Applejack blinked.

"Wanna gallop that past me again?" the farmer slowly said.

"If I win," Rainbow declared, suddenly feeling every last bit of that pride, with all of it in herself as she calmly presented the best stakes ever, "I get one standard-sized, completely full barrel of perfectly-made cider. The first one you make. For free. All to myself. There's no first-come, first-serve. No standing in line. No running out. You put a barrel aside for me before you open, and nopony gets anything until I show up, cut to the front, and claim mine right in front of everypony."

There were easily twenty ponies watching them at the moment Rainbow said those words and judging by the sounds from behind her, no more than three of them had nearly fainted.

I'm going to win.

Well, that was redundant. She'd always been destined to win. But now, she was going to win big.

"An' what do Ah get," Applejack carefully asked, "if Ah win?"

Rainbow's mouth began to open --

"-- no," Pinkie cut in. "Rainbow named her end. Applejack names hers."

Twilight nodded. "Equivalent value."

Most of the watching ponies nodded, although their expressions suggested that their own attempts to find an equivalent for that weren't working out.

Well, that was fair, and it wasn't as if Rainbow would ever lose, so... She nodded to Applejack, waited.

The farmer thought about it.

"When Ah win," she finally said, "y'take the day off from work, first day of cider season --"

"-- oh, come on: I always do that anyway --"

"-- an'," Applejack pushed on, "y'work for me. Y'come t' the Acres, when Ah say. Y' get the barrels, run the tap, serve everypony there is. Y'give 'em all cider, y'watch 'em enjoy it as they trot away -- an' y'can't drink any. Can't have one drop. Can't even lick your fur or preen your feathers if some gets in there. Nothin'."

Several spectators gasped. Two had their hind legs go out from under them. One decided that wasn't enough for being there when taste buds which had been waiting for nearly a year to receive their freedom were instead given a death sentence, and so quietly laid down in the road until the horror went away. As for Rainbow, she didn't fully become aware that her jaw had dropped open until the tang of burning leaves reached the back of her throat.

"You're evil," Rainbow stated. (The tone was more than slightly impressed.)

"Well?" Applejack challenged. "Y'doin' it?"

"Seriously," a somewhat dazed (and still impressed) Rainbow went on. "Evil."

Twilight swallowed. "That's... a pretty high value. On both ends. I -- think that balances. Pinkie?"

The baker needed a moment to get past her own stun. "No cider, for the whole first day, or a barrel, free..." A slow nod. "If they're willing..."

Applejack immediately stuck out her right foreleg, presented the hoof. Rainbow pressed a matching hoof against it. And the extra witnesses trotted and flew off to tell ponies about the bet. The ponies involved. The stakes.

It was news, and Rainbow had expected that. It was just a little bit of an Event, and she'd seen that coming too. The rest of it... that was completely missed, and remained so until it was far too late to stop it. Because the hayride wouldn't take place on Nightmare Night itself: Applejack wanted to be in town for that one, and Rainbow had readily agreed. But it was still the proper season. The time for horror.

And what happened to Rainbow would be truly horrible indeed.

She didn't see Applejack much over the next week, certainly not as much as she should have during that part of the year, and not even as much as she normally dropped by in any other moon. It reached the point where she found herself washing her own dishes, mostly because she'd just used the very last one. But Rainbow couldn't drop by: one of the terms said she couldn't scout the Acres before the hayride, and she was determined to abide by every last line of the precisely-fieldwritten contract. It meant her diet was suffering, her spending stung from eating out too much (not that she ever had a pay voucher cycle which didn't end with her still having so much as a tenth-bit anyway), and she just missed Applejack because even when you were partially hanging out to get a jump on cider season and plan out your attack long before the papers hit the town's notice boards, hanging out with Applejack was still fun, at least until the work got involved.

So most of her Applejack sightings were brief. She would be flying over the town and spot the farmer going into a store, or coming out of a home. In fact, Applejack seemed to be in town more than usual, especially for that part of the fall. Rainbow was guessing she was asking for advice, as there was no way the farmer could plan out something scary on her own, let alone something that produced a reaction. Well, that was fine -- or rather, that hadn't been banned during the negotiations. There had been more concessions from both sides: Applejack couldn't try to blast Rainbow out of the cart with a cacophony of pure noise, Rainbow couldn't block her own hearing and had to listen to everything which was going on along with being awake to witness it -- but nothing had said Applejack couldn't seek consultants. It really didn't matter anyway, not when Rainbow was going to win.

Still... it was a lot of shops and houses.

Of course, based on the boredom she reportedly laced across the cart trail every year, Applejack obviously needed a lot of help.

Which turned out to be almost exactly right.

As they'd agreed, Rainbow touched down at the entrance to the Acres two hours after Moon had been raised, having flown over no part of the family's property on the way in. Applejack was waiting for her, along with Twilight. And the haycart.

It was actually Rainbow's first look at the cart, and she kept looking at it for longer than she'd wanted to. If Applejack kept hanging up the chalk skeletons which her father had purchased, then Rainbow was guessing that the earth pony was pulling the same wooden cart which her great-great-great-great (internally, this went on for a while) grandfather had put together. It was gnarled. It was covered in something very close to battle scars. It clearly had stories to tell, and all of them would have been boring.

Naturally, there was hay in it. She briefly wondered if it was an unusual amount, then considered that there was only going to be a single passenger: there didn't have to be a lot of room left for the kids.

"Ready?" she asked in perfect confidence.

"Yeah," Applejack smiled. (Rainbow memorized that smile, as she wouldn't be seeing it again for a while.) "Like we agreed, Ah'll be haulin', so enjoy the ride: no potholes or ditches t' toss y'out. Twi?"

The unicorn stepped forward, a little piece of paper in her field. "That's the time," she said, and floated it over: Rainbow carefully read it by corona shine. "I went through the course myself before you got here. Applejack's allowed some variance, of course: you can't expect a pony to trot at exactly the same speed. But this is what I'll be measuring against."

"That's fine," Rainbow said, and meant it: she trusted Twilight to keep the true numbers. "I'm ready to relax."

She took off, just long enough to make a gentle landing in the cart. Settled in.

Then she shifted a little.

"This stuff is kind of rough."

"It's hay," Applejack stated.

"I eat hay. It's not like this."

"It's non-eatin' hay. Or hay nopony would usually eat just yet."

"And..." She did her best not to squirm. "It's itchy." Why hadn't anypony told her hay was itchy?

She heard the soft chuckle, moving towards the front of the cart. "Pony with no experience of hay ain't mah fault."

"I'm from Cloudsdale," Rainbow protested. "We get imports. After it's ready to eat. How is a Cloudsdale pony supposed to know how hay feels?"

"By landin'," Applejack simply replied. "Twi, hook me up?" There was a brief flare of corona light. "All right. See y'later."

The librarian nodded, trotted off --

-- stopped. Turned.

"You can back out," she told Rainbow. "Right now. Back out and nopony will say anything. I won't think any less of you, Rainbow. I swear."

Rainbow stared at her.

"You're kidding, right?"

Softly, "Rainbow -- please..."

"I don't back out of a bet."

Twilight sighed, turned, and trotted away.

Rainbow frowned. "Where's she going?"

"She's keepin' the time. She can do that from the house." Applejack took a step, and earth pony strength easily pulled the cart forward as ancient wheels --

-- Rainbow didn't jump. She hadn't expected the creaking, and she certainly hadn't expected it to feel like having somepony ramming one very rusty spike into each ear. But she didn't jump.

"Don't worry 'bout Twi," Applejack went on, taking another step. (This time, Rainbow was ready.) "She'll play fair. Y'know that."

Rainbow nodded, then realized Applejack couldn't see her, not from that far below. For her own part, Rainbow was mostly looking at back, tail, and hat. "I know. She promised not to tell me anything about what you were setting up. She hasn't."

"That's why we trust her."

The cart moved towards the start of the non-haunted trail.

Just before they reached the entrance, "There's a bug on me."

"Yeah?"

More sharply, "This hay has bugs in it! All over the place! And now they're crawling!"

"Yeah. It's hay, Rainbow. Ask anypony 'round here."

Slowly, "Oh, is that how you're playing it?"

"Playin' what?"

"You're trying something," Rainbow stated.

"An'?"

"What are you trying?"

The cart stopped.

"Rainbow? Y'know what's really honest sometimes, far as answers go?"

"What?"

Absolute silence, right up until the wheels started moving again.

"Applejack? What -- oh, very funny..."

They went into the trees.

"I'm gonna win," an increasingly-itchy Rainbow declared.

No answer.

The Acres were a little weird at night.

Branches swayed in the breeze, and Rainbow watched that swaying closely. She'd rewritten some assignments to keep herself off the Acres for the week: the rest of the team had handled the farm's weather. That was only fair for the bet: it had kept Rainbow from any chances to scout. But this was her first look at how the team had been doing. The sky was certainly clear enough, at least for this area. The air was crisp, but it was also a little colder than it should have been. She'd have to talk to somepony about that.

She could hear a few birds, the last of what hadn't migrated yet added to the year-round residents. Small animals moving through the trees. Every so often, she got a glimpse of running shadow along those branches: there was plenty of starlight, added to that provided by a three-quarters (and waxing) Moon. And all of that should have been normal -- but it felt weird. Maybe it was from the hay against her fur, or wondering just how many of the bugs she was tail-flicking away were ticks.

"Weather been okay? The team's been doing a good job?"

Applejack snorted. "Small talk?"

"Just wondering. I haven't been out here for a week."

"Ah know. Y'usually take care of the Acres personal."

"Yeah," Rainbow admitted.

"An' sneak fruit while y'do it."

"Do not."

"Really?"

"That's just taxes. You pay taxes and part of that goes to the Weather Bureau. If I take an apple, it's not sneaking fruit. It's collecting tax."

"Oh, good. Lookin' forward t' mah next filin', then. Can't say Ah'm sure how Ah'm gettin' that refund..."

There was a clearing up ahead on the right: Rainbow could just see the break in the trees.

"Why hasn't anything happened yet?"

"Sorry?"

"That's a lie," Rainbow challenged. "You're not sorry."

"Ah meant, sorry, don't understand the question."

"You're not telling me the stories. There haven't been any fake skeletons. Big Mac hasn't jumped out from behind a tree. I wanted to see the mask. Scootaloo said it's a really stupid mask."

"Does she now?" Applejack asked. "Not quite the tune she was screamin' last year when she was buzzin' for the hills."

The light was a little different in the clearing. Dimmed by cloud cover -- but it was also brightening. Fast. And there were sounds starting to reach Rainbow's straining ears past the squeaking of the wheels...

They reached the edge of the clearing. The cart paused. And Rainbow heard it.

"Just under nine seconds!" Cloudchaser cheered. "That's the new record!"

She looked up, and her blood turned into ice.

Rainbow stared. At the wisps which were scattering into the night air, the last remnants of a very recent cloud-breaking session. The two pegasi hovering there.

Flitter grinned, looked as insufferably pleased with herself as she did at just about every moment of her life --- only suddenly, it was personal. "You know the best part? I wasn't even really trying."

Ice became fire, and did so without melting.

"Seriously?" Cloudchaser beamed.

Smugly, "Yeah. I mean, what's so special about getting it done in under nine, anyway? It's not like anypony couldn't have done it if they just bothered waking all the way up. I'll show you. Let's just wrangle a few more over and then I'll break eight."

Rainbow's wings flared --

-- slowly, joint by joint, she forced them back against her sides, felt them trembling in something which wasn't quite a rest position. Two bugs crawled into the gaps between feathers and torso, and the itching got that much worse.

"You," she told Applejack, "are evil." She was fairly sure the farmer already knew that, and Rainbow didn't understand why everypony else hadn't figured it out.

Calmly, "Y'think so?"

"It's not going to work."

"Y'say so?"

The cart began to move again. It didn't seem to be moving fast enough. And even through the squeaks, she heard the pegasi laughing.

The next clearing had no ponies in it, which meant there was nopony keeping an eye on Rainbow's dream. Making sure it was safe. That a pony with exceptional speed couldn't just swoop in and take it.

She swallowed, and realized it was the fifth one.

"That's..."

"Somethin' wrong, Rainbow?"

"That's a Cumulus."

"Heard you talk about 'em," Applejack admitted. "An' now Ah can see what it looks like. Y'know, Ah gotta apologize t' you."

She couldn't seem to look away. And she was swallowing over and over, mostly to keep from drooling. "A... ap... apologize?"

"Well, yeah. When y'mentioned 'em, Ah kinda scoffed. Inside, where y'couldn't hear it. But listenin' t' you... 'bout how it's the best mattress in the world, most expensive, takes one pegasus three months t' craft the cloud so it'll hold forever an' cushion an' cradle an' cool you in the summer or keep y'warm in the winter, an' even a unicorn or an earth pony can lie down on it without a cloudwalkin' spell... well, no way any mattress, even one that magic, could be worth all those bits. Hundreds of bits for the smallest one. And that there's a family size."

Rainbow wondered when her breathing had gotten quite so fast.

"Family... size?"

"With the optional comforter. An' like Ah said, Ah apologize. You were right. Best mattress ever. Ah can say so 'cause Ah've been sleepin' on it for the last two nights."

It took all of Rainbow's strength just to blink.

"You bought a Cumulus."

"Nah. Can't afford one that big right now. They had a special limited-time offer. Y'probably didn't hear, or read, an' now it's too late until they want t' test a new improved model again, whenever that might be. Ah can try it out for a week an' if Ah don't want t' keep it, Ah jus' pay shipping. An' since they weigh jus' 'bout nothin', shippin' ain't much. But Ah already know Ah like it too much. So Ah ain't gonna use it no more, not even for the rest of the trial. Best thing Ah can do is send it out before Ah get addicted or somethin'. So Ah took it out of the house. But, y'know, five days left."

There was soft music playing now.

"Shame t' waste 'em."

Lullaby music.

"Far as Ah'm concerned, next pony who touches it can keep it 'til the time runs out an' then Ah'll jus' send the postpony t' her place for pickup."

Rainbow just barely moved her gaze enough to see the mint-green hooves in the shadow of the tree, watched as they moved against the strings of the lyre.

"Anypony at'tall..."

"How does your Element not catch fire when you put it on?"

It hadn't been a bet-losing scream. Just a shout, and so there was no answer.

"We should blast you," Rainbow hissed. "Blast you and see if there's anything left."

"Y'can't."

"I just might try it," Rainbow half-promised. "All it takes is --"

"-- six," Applejack cut her off. "It takes six. And Ah ain't blastin' myself." Rainbow heard the chuckle, and so turned just in time to see the little shrug. "Well, y'heard her, Lyra. Guess she don't want it. You and Bon-Bon have fun now."

The composer peacefully turned towards the Cumulus, and her field quickly gathered in a mattress which weighed almost nothing, just before she trotted away. The cart resumed its path.

"We can find a new Honesty," Rainbow softly swore.

"Such as?"

"You've got a sister."

"Yeah. Have y'met her?"

The next one was easier, at least once she got past the still-increasing urge to throttle the pony involved. (She'd found 'throttle' in a Daring Do novel, had to look up the definition, and was currently wishing for the anatomy which would allow it to actually happen.)

"Oh!" Sparkler called out into the night as the light from her field increased on melodramatic beats and the object within swayed to the rhythm of the horrible overacting. "What a disaster! The greatest threat Equestria has ever known, and the only way to stop it, to keep Nightmare and Discord and Sombra and changelings from uniting as one into something ridiculously overpowered and frankly rather stupid, is for somepony to open this jar! Who can save us? Who, I ask Moon and Luna and the world which needs a hero? Who?"

She looked directly at the cart.

"Well," she shrugged, "clearly nopony over there." And with an instant surge just before she backed away into the gap between trees, "Who? Who...?"

Rainbow was learning. Watch out for the clearings. Watch out for the little playlets. Watch herself.

Applejack couldn't scare her: the farmer had clearly realized that going in, or at least admitted it early enough to change up the plan. So instead, the goal was to get Rainbow out of the cart. Not fleeing from fear (impossible) or just having been startled into action (which she had to beware of). Applejack was trying to trigger a reaction. Here's something you want: go claim it. Here's somepony you don't like: go have a fight. Here's a kick right to your pride: go kick back.

It was canny. There was an argument to be made that it was almost clever. It was also lower than a Diamond Dog tunnel.

Rainbow internally muttered to herself, shook her wings to clear away a few bugs, then repeatedly flicked her ears until those two crawled out.

Just wait for the next clearing.

How much time had it been? At least half. It had to be at least half --

"Did you check her home?"

The words had come from overhead and before Rainbow could stop herself, she looked up to see two Wonderbolts, hovering near the vertical edge of the path.

No. They're in costumes. There's lots of costumes around this time of year. Two pegasi who just fit the suits. They're not real Wonderbolts.

"Yes," the mare told the stallion. "Twice, once on each pass. And the restaurants, and the bars, and... we're running out of places. What do you want to do next?"

"We keep going," he sighed. "We have to. It's a formal C And C. That means we deliver the summons, our saddlebags to her mouth. So she can never deny receiving it."

C And C.

Crash And Court-Martial.

The mare sighed, pressed her right forehoof against her temple. "This is just so weird," she told the night. "I didn't think there was any countering evidence, but after the Captain took Lightning Dust back following their meeting... she must be at fault. And she found somepony else to take the fall for her. How do we even talk to a pony like that?"

It's a play. It's acting. It's not real...

"We tell her," the stallion grimly replied, "that she's summoned. And then the Captain tells her she's out."

Ninety-nine percent, plus a very long fraction. That was the chance it was all just a performance.

The tiny part which remained had her forehooves planted on the haycart's edge. Staring straight up. Trying not to move. Trying not to scream --

-- and they flew away.

The cart had never paused.

It was a full minute before she tried to speak. "Remember what I said? About your being evil?"

"Yeah."

"It was a joke."

Neutrally, "Ah figured."

"It was a joke right up until you did that."

Silence.

Rainbow slowly shook her head -- then did it faster, the better to get rid of the moisture before Applejack could look back, something which hadn't happened once. "We've made bets before. You don't go this far. Not even during that Running, with the cheating and the fighting and finishing tied for last, you didn't go this far..."

"Known each other a while now," the earth pony softly said. "Ah know what sets you off, Rainbow. Ah might know jus' 'bout all of it. Ah jus' don't use it. No need. Never wanted to, neither. But you... y'went an'..."

Silence again. The cart rolled on.

She kept most of the gasp out of the words, and came close to hating herself because it hadn't been all. "I what?"

"Ah didn't trot down this trail at first," the farmer quietly told the night. "Ah rode. Every year. Learned when the kids would scream, screamed with 'em t' make it sound better. Me and Big Mac. We didn't haul 'cause we were too little an' our job was t' scream in chorus. Ah loved doin' that, 'cause it helped. And in between, we could jus' listen. Hearin' him tell the same stories, year after year..."

For the first time, her head turned, and Rainbow saw the stars glittering on the moisture which coated green eyes.

"Y'shouldn't have insulted mah Daddy," Applejack whispered.

She turned back. The cart rolled on.

This time, the voices seemed to drift in.

"...so let's set the type. Remember: Magic, Laughter, Kindness, Generosity, and Honesty. Put one header on each section for the chapter breakdown."

"Got it." The sound of a printing press stamping down, and she saw the first glint of moonlight on metal. "So that's all of them?"

"Well, it's all anypony's going to read about." The older stallion's voice had an audible shrug in it. "If I hadn't done all that research and... well, trust me: if you knew what she was like, what she did -- but that's why the Princess asked me to write what's going to become the official history. After all, it's not as if anypony else is left who remembers them."

They were getting closer. Everything would be visible soon.

"And the Princess said nopony should ever remember her," that voice continued, the gesturing foreleg just coming into sight. "So once we're done, nopony ever will --"

Her wings flared, and bugs were blasted off in all directions as she drove the actor into the ground.

They were in front of the house. Twilight had silently trotted out to meet them.

"You're early," the unicorn finally said.

"She didn't reach the end," Applejack quietly said. "Lost it at the future writin' station. Bet an' temper. Pony's fine." She took a deep breath. "Ah know we used the paddin' for his outfit jus' in case an' he agreed t' take the chance, but she usually swoops in harder than... well, anyway, y'can see."

Rainbow stood stock-still, between Applejack and the haycart. Head down, tail drooping.

"Mah win," the earth pony told Twilight. "So we jus' came straight back after that. Rainbow, you gonna argue that win?"

"...no."

"Fine. Cider season starts in five days. And the first day we're sellin', you do what Ah said y'would. An' y'come when Ah tell you. Exactly when."

"How..." She forced a breath. "How early do you want me there?"

"What time do you usually go t' bed?"

Rainbow told her.

"Don't."

She let the rest of the weather team manage the Acres. She didn't drop by the cart to get the last pre-cider apples of the season. There would be times when she saw Applejack, and they were nearly all from overhead. There was one when Rainbow was coming out of Barnyard Bargains just as the farmer was herding her sister down the street, and Rainbow had turned around just about on one hoof and gone back in.

Their friends... well, Rainbow wasn't seeing much of Applejack, but she was certainly getting some time with everypony else. They all had the same advice for her, although Fluttershy's was the softest and Twilight had the most awkward wording, something which clearly wasn't ready to go into a letter yet. At first, Rainbow told them all the same thing: five days. Then she switched it up: it was now four days. The progression continued from there.

They spent a lot of time together, weather coordinator and farmer, even when the first wasn't trying to pin down the exact release time for that seasonal drink, information she'd certainly managed to gain. In some ways, it was a strange combination: Applejack often seemed as if she lived to work, and Rainbow felt the first stage of truly living was getting out of it. The earth pony's family was around her: the pegasus couldn't get home for the holidays. One watched every bit and the other watched them all being put into somepony else's saddlebags.

But they were the most competitive, and they each gave the other somepony to compete against. Even if their ideals were different, both understood the dedication to that ideal. Rainbow talked and knew that Applejack would give her honest opinion of those words, because even when Rainbow didn't really want to hear it, there were times when she had to. Applejack listened. Applejack had listened enough to learn a lot about Rainbow and on the night of the hayride, it had felt like she'd learned too much.

I know she lost her parents while she was still in school.

She doesn't talk about what happened. All I know is that it was both at once: somepony in town said that. That says accident or worse. And if she doesn't talk about it, then... I don't ask.

She's my friend. Losing her mother and father must have been the worst part of her life. And we've never talked about it.

I talk about me. I talk about my family. How I can't get home, and...

There's always a plate on the table. There's always a bench waiting.

When we were all making the cider together, us against the brothers... she said we were...

It was horrible, and in some ways, it was also horror.

It looked so simple from the line, at least during the rare occasions when she'd managed to get within rough sight of the front. Get the barrel, tap the barrel, take the money, serve the cider. But to be on the other end...

She arrived deep under Moon, followed all instructions. And the first instruction told her that barrels didn't move themselves. They had to be brought out to the cider stand. That meant loading them into the cart, and Rainbow learned that liquid had weight. Earth ponies could shift that. A pegasus of her size couldn't press all four limbs against the curved barrel and get enough pressure to lift anything: she kept slipping off, and the barrel would stay right where it was. Most of what she was good for in the loading stage was getting in the way.

The line was waiting for them when they brought the first cartload out. (They hadn't used the haycart.) There were tents and ponies on sleeping rolls, plus one near-palanquin because Rarity was willing to open a little later in the day. Ponies talked to each other under Moon. There were campfires and little games, soft music (so as not to disturb the sleepers) and small reunions. It was a party, and Rainbow wondered why she'd never attended before.

Most of the town knew about the bet by now, and so none were truly surprised to see her. She got to watch their not being surprised for some time, because somepony had to keep an eye on the unloaded barrels, and Apple Bloom excitedly told Rainbow that this was the first year it hadn't been her.

Sun was raised. The first barrel was tapped, and if you didn't tap it just right, some spray came out around the edges. That soaked into your fur. It made you smell like cider, and then it turned sticky and you still smelled like cider, and that was when the bugs got involved because you were sticky, smelled like cider, and there were still bugs around. When you did tap it right, which Rainbow started to master around the seventh barrel -- well, cider foamed. Foam could go all over the place. Feathers seemed to be a favorite target, perhaps for the lack of previous opportunity.

The family rotated assignments to allow somepony time in the house for rinsing off. Rainbow was offered a few, and spent most of them staring into the bathroom mirror before emerging no cleaner than she'd gone in. She finally rinsed down after an attempt to nose over change had the coin stick to her snout.

There was money. Rainbow wasn't used to that. Other than some barely-remembered (and best-forgotten) school-related efforts, she didn't sell. Making change was basic enough, at least until the hours without sleep began to catch up to her and Apple Bloom just barely stopped her before she'd passed back five times what she'd just been given. But the bits had to be sorted. Tested, in case they accidentally got a counterfeit, and one dropped into the till from Rainbow's teeth: it was the Apples who looked up at the false ringing sound. And multiplication for the ponies who brought mug after mug after mug... also easy, at least for a pony who'd slept and hadn't strained herself trying to move barrels.

Her legs hurt after the first hour. Her mouth after three. Ponies blurred, all the myriad colors merging in her mind into a sort of muddy brown. There might have been friends in the line, or there might not. But there was certainly cider. She nosed over mug after mug. She could smell it everywhere. Every drop spilled into the road seemed to rebound into her nostrils. It took three seconds after entering the storage area to briefly dream of cider, and five hours to hope she never got near it again.

Applejack talked to her. Giving orders required talking. Following them required listening, and Rainbow did her best, which wasn't good enough, not even for something which had seemed so simple from the outside. She couldn't consistently fill the mugs to the precise line. She came up short, or produced overflow which wasted cider and just made her all the stickier.

But she kept moving. She kept listening.

And eventually, the words reached her ears.

"Stop." Big Mac's teeth took the tap away, and no drip fell from the last barrel. "That's it, everypony."

It had been meant for them alone. They'd reached the end of the line. Rainbow supposed they had the brothers to thank for that, and hoped she got the opportunity to show them how much she appreciated it, kick by kick. Or she could show them with cider. They liked cider. So she'd just drown them in it. Of course, that would mean her being around cider, but really, any other death she could create for them would be far too merciful.

"I'm gonna go in and see how Granny's doing," the stallion said. "I know she's grateful for the half-day, even if she doesn't show all of it. And I can smell the cooking from here." (Rainbow didn't even try to sniff the air: oxygen had turned to cider long ago.) "But I'll come back out to help clean up."

"Don't," Applejack told him. "You or Apple Bloom -- yeah, that's right: you're done, AB. Go get washed up. Ah can wrap up out here mahself. With help."

He looked at the mares for a few seconds.

"Can do," he said. "Just you two, then. Apple Bloom?"

"Ah forget," the little pony said. "Every year, Ah forget jus' how good a bath can feel." And then, a little more quickly, because her brother was starting to grin, "Once a year. They feel good once a year. An' Ah'm calling first one. Last good one. Until next year."

They trotted away. And then there were two.

"We start with the line," Applejack told her. "Most ponies pack out their trash. Most. Gotta clean up after the exceptions."

There were special saddlebags for that, and a stick with a pointed end, plus a hinge which bent when you took pressure off it. Rainbow needed some practice before she could reliably direct it towards her flanks.

They cleaned up for a while. It wasn't easy. Several ponies had been roasting peppers, and they'd left the skins behind. They were slimy, burnt, disgusting, and apparently smelled like cider.

Rainbow deposited half a red vegetable shell in her left saddlebag, felt the other half slide down her fur. She fought back most of the gagging.

"Did y'forfeit?"

She looked up. Applejack was about four body lengths down the road. Watching her.

"Did you?"

Rainbow angled her forelegs and head, went for another pepper.

"Asked you a question, Rainbow."

Even the words tasted like cider. "You know what's really honest sometimes? As far as answers go?"

"What?"

No answer.

Applejack snorted. "Yeah, should've seen that comin'. Rainbow --"

"-- I'm sorry."

The green eyes were staring at her. Then they shifted left. "Look here," the farmer sighed. "Happens every year. Stands in line the whole time, waits all those moons for it, an' don't even finish the mug." Her head went down. "Always gotta clean up after --"

Her teeth went around the hoof loop, just before her head jerked up and whipped.

Rainbow was too close, the liquid moving too fast after far too long a day, and the cider soaked her forelegs from knees to hooves.

"HEY!"

Applejack's mouth opened, dropped the now-empty mug. Her gaze went down, and then she nodded to herself.

"I just said --"

"-- Ah know," Applejack cut in. "So Ah did the splash test. Ain't no pattern in the dirt on the other side of your legs from cider goin' through the holes. You ain't a changeling. You're Rainbow, and Rainbow jus' said she was sorry. Kind of calls for a test, don'tcha think?"

She wondered if any of the sticky sweetness was flashing into steam along her legs. "That's not funny."

"Never said Ah was jokin'. Whatcha sorry 'bout?"

"I was thinking..."

"Maybe Ah didn't use enough cider."

She forced the words: even after days of silent practice, it took force to get them all out. "I prank a lot of ponies on Nightmare Night. With lightning. And I bet if somepony went up to them the next day, they'd hear a lot of ponies saying they were never scared at all. I'm sorry I said your hayride wasn't scary. Ponies don't always tell the truth about being scared after it happens. And sometimes when they do get scared, they -- forget. On purpose. I should have asked you what it was like. Not them. I'm sorry."

Applejack watched her for a while, until Rainbow gave up on being watched and went back to the peppers.

"Ah'm sorry too," her friend's voice softly admitted. "Ah saved you the second barrel. Y'want a bath before y'go?"

"Yes. Does Apple Bloom leave any hot water?"

"No."

Rainbow sighed at the injustice of a world which had nothing more for her than a cold tub. "Second barrel?"

"Yeah. But it's a good one."

"I don't even want to look at it."

"Y'will by t'morrow. Trust me there?"

They worked for a while. The peppers weren't getting any less slimy.

"Applejack?"

"What's up?"

"Tell me about your dad."

She heard the sharp inhale.

"Rainbow?"

"If you don't want to, I --"

"-- he would've liked you."

"...he would?"

"He -- always forgave ponies if they went too far. If they said they were sorry an' meant it. He always knew when they meant it. Hard t' get away with things, with a dad like that. Ah... wish Ah was more like him, a lot of the time. Ah ain't enough like him. But..." Her left forehoof awkwardly scraped at the dirt. "...Ah can tell when things go too far. When Ah go too far, 'cause mah temper goes up an' mah hackles go with it. An'... if'fin Ah'm gonna be more like him, Ah gotta accept a real 'sorry'. An'... know when to give one --"

"-- he sounds cool."

Applejack smiled.

"Yeah. He was."

They talked and cleaned until Big Mac called Applejack in for dinner. And the table was set for five.