You step away from the chicken coop with a basket of eggs in your hand. You’ve just finished harvesting the latest batch, which proved to be quite fruitful. However, one of the hens was absolutely not having it today. Your arms are littered with small nicks and cuts from her vicious barrage of pecks.

Despite the resistance you faced, you managed to get the task done. With the load of precious cargo tight in your grip, you begin to walk to the farm. Applejack had instructed you to head back with the eggs as soon as you were done. Not one to disappoint, you do just that. Thankfully it’s just a short walk from the coop.

You brisk some fingers through your sweat-soaked mane. Summer is hitting faster and harder than you expected. In only a few days’ time the heat has intensified greatly. At this rate, your sweat will end up evaporating right off of you by next week.

And the season has only just begun. Work is slowly getting into full swing on the Acres; livestock needing tending to, apples to be harvested, and the like. The increasing heat only makes the duty more difficult, as the animals need more attention. Work rests for nopony, regardless of how hot it may be.

“Still can’t wait for Autumn…” you mumble to no one in particular. Perhaps Celestia will somehow catch wind of your plea and maybe tone down on the brutal heat her sun is providing. Or maybe she’ll just laugh. You hear she can be something of a prankster.

On your way back to the house, you check in by the pig pen. One of them has been showing signs of trouble lately; exhaustion, irritability, lack of appetite, all to the point beyond being able to blame the heat. You’ve been checking up on him every so often, giving him various treatments you know of to help with such symptoms. However, as you set the basket of eggs down and jump the fence, it seems your efforts are still fruitless as he lays slumped in the corner.

“Hey Wilfred, how you feeling? That grass I gave you doing anything?” you ask as you approach the pig.

He only lets out an annoyed snort. You put a hand on his back and rub lightly.

“Feeling any better? Want to eat something?”

A low grunt is all you get. You sigh in defeat. Having tried everything you know and the pig going through with it, which means it’s not faking whatever it has. That only leaves one option, and Applejack isn’t going to like it.

“We’ll make you feel better, Wilfred. Don’t worry,” you say as you get up and leave the pig to lay there. Climbing over the fence again and picking up the bucket, you make your way back toward the house.

After a short bit of walking, you reach the home of the Apple family. As you round the corner, you find two ponies sitting at the wooden table on the front yard. One you can immediately identify as Applejack. Sitting across from her is Twilight. Your eyebrows rise slightly at the sight. You haven’t seen the purple mare in over week since she left for her trip. To see her back already catches you a bit by surprise.

The mare in questions pauses her conversation with Applejack to give you a small wave. You return the gesture with a smile and Applejack turns around in her seat. She beckons you over to the table with a wave of her own, scooching over in her seat. You quickly make your way over and set the basket onto the table.

AJ’s eyes widen when she sees the collection of eggs you gathered. “Woo, that’s a nice batch! They give ya any trouble t’day?”

You step over the seat and sit down next to her, showing her the nicks covering your arm. “Henrietta wasn’t too happy today,” you utter plainly.

She hisses at the sight. “That girl’s been so ornery lately…”

“At least it’s taken care of,” you say with a shrug. You turn your attention to the unicorn on the other end of the table. “Hey Twilight. Haven’t seen you for a while!”

She giggles a bit. “It hasn’t been too long. I was only gone for about a week!”

You shrug again. “I guess so. How was the trip anyway? You went to Trottingham, right?”

“That’s right! And I was just telling Applejack about all the things I saw and ponies I met!” she says as she claps her hands excitedly. “Like this nice little coffee shop on the edge of the town. Easily the best cup of coffee I ever had.”

“Heh. Never took you as much fer a coffee drinker, Twi,” Applejack comments.

“Every now and then,” she replies. “Maybe a bit more since I bought a bag of their specially roasted beans to bring home.”

“So what else was there?” you ask.

“Oh, so many things. The theaters, the shopping mall, this little bakery…” She lowers her voice. “But don’t tell Pinkie about that last one.”

“Sounds pretty nifty,” Applejack says.

You notice something in AJ’s hand. “What are those?” you ask, pointing to the stack of small papers she’s holding.

“These’re just some Trottingham recipes Twilight brought over. New kinds of pies, cookies, and so on,” she explains. “Thank ya’ kindly again. I’ll give these a shot soon.”

“And I haven’t even gotten to the most unique part. There’s this little Trottingham dairy…” Twilight explains. “They have this specialty item and I can guarantee that neither of you would be able to guess what it is.”

You and Applejack put your hands to your chins as you hum in thought. It’s a dairy, so what type of milk product would be uncommon?

“...Goat milk?” you guess.

Twilight shakes her head.

“Yak milk?” AJ asks.

“Nope!”

“Manticore milk?” you ask with a chuckle.

“Not even close.”

Applejack throws her hand up. “Alright, what is it?” she asks.

Twilight giggles again. “Breast milk.”

As the answer sinks in, you begin to realize what that exactly means. “Really?” you and AJ ask at the same time.

“Who in tarnation would sell that?” Applejack asks.

“The notion does sound pretty strange, doesn’t it?” Twilight says. She then leans down to her bag beneath the table. Pulling out a small booklet, she skims her eyes through it as she speaks. “But the milk an adult mare produces is actually incredibly nutritious, even for adult ponies! High protein content, packed with vitamins, the list goes on!”

“Wow…” you utter. “Never would have guessed.”

“And some pony is sellin’ it over there?” AJ inquires.

“Mhmm,” Twilight responds, nodding. “It’s still an experiment in the early stages, but so far the data is entirely positive. Ponies report how they feel more invigorated and energized after having drank the product regularly. The results are actually quite amazing!”

“Just how big is the study?” you ask.

“Right now, only one dairy in Trottingham is documenting any sales of breast milk, but the demand for it is growing incredibly fast,” Twilight explains, her eyes never leaving her pages. “So fast, in fact, that an upcoming issue of Equestrian Brain Foods is going to feature an entire article on it!”

Applejacks eyes widen in surprise. “Huh. Never woulda guessed there’d be a market for something that… different.”

Twilight giggles again. “I admit, I was confused when I first heard of it, too. But…” she taps her fingers on the document in her hand a few times. “The data doesn’t lie!”

“Well,” you interject. “Good on ‘em for finding such a, uh...unique field of market.”

Applejack chuckles “You can say that again! But... I reckon it does make some sense. Foals drink that stuff up like lil’ piggies, after all.”

“Oh, speaking of piggies…” you say. “I checked on Wilfred earlier.”

“And?” Applejack asks.

You shake your head. “He’s not getting any better no matter what I give him. I’m afraid we’ll have to call in the expert.”

AJ sighs in frustration. “Right then. I’ll talk to Fluttershy next chance I get an’ ask her to come down.”

“Well, I could help,” Twilight offers. “I’m heading down to her cottage after this. I can pass on the message and let her know.”

“That’d be great, Twilight. Save me a trip,” Applejack says.

Twilight looks at her watch. “Actually, I need to get going now. I’m on a schedule.” You nod in understanding, knowing how the mare can be about scheduling. “I’ll let Fluttershy know to come by,” she says, standing up.

“Thanks, Twilight,” you say.

“Yeah, thanks. Talk to ya’ later,” AJ says as Twilight walks off waving.

As the purple mare begins to disappear down the path, you turn your attention back to AJ. You find her hat is pushed back by her hand as her fingers rub her forehead. One of the corners of her mouth is pulled back and her eyes are fixated on the table, seemingly lost in thought.

“Applejack?” you say, calling her attention.

“Huh?” She pulls her hand away from her head and looks at you, a slight amount of surprise in her eyes. “Oh, sorry. Just thinkin’...”

“Penny for your thoughts?” you offer.

Her lips part slightly as you ask and she hesitates a bit before answering. “It’s nothin’. Don’t worry about it.” she says. She then leans back and swings her legs over the bench, standing up from the table. Grabbing the basket of eggs you collected, she looks at you over her shoulder as she begins to walk to the house. “I gotta go check on somethin’ right quick. You check up on the cows yet?”

Her tone doesn’t fully convince you, but you decide not to press on it. “Was just about to get on that!” you reply.

Satisfied with your answer, AJ nods. She begins to walk to the house without another word, basket of eggs in tow. Pulling the screen door back, she steps in as the flimsy door swings closed with a clack!

Standing up, you outstretch your arms and lean your head back, puffing out your chest. With a few satisfying pops emitting from your spine, you step over the side of the bench and turn to face the stables. Just as you’re about to begin walking there, you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye.

The recipe cards that Twilight had brought for AJ were left on the table. She must have forgotten to pick them up. While AJ didn’t seem too enthusiastic about trying another kind of baking outside her family recipes, she probably would end up giving them a shot at some point. She’s not so proud to refuse a chance to learn and improve. At least in the end.

You look down to the recipe cards again. Considering that these may not survive a workday in your pocket and seeing that you’re right next to the house, you decide to take them in to Applejack immediately.

The door creaks open and you look around the living room. No sign of her, so you move into the kitchen. Empty as ever, but you consider leaving the cards on the table. Better not, it’d be just your luck that Apple Bloom and her friends gets a hold of them for some crusade to get their cutie marks. Their destruction about as random as can be and nothing is safe nor sacred around the troublesome trio.

No, best to get these in a safe place now. Opening up a few high cupboards, you try to find where Applejack keeps the cookbooks. Finding none, you chuckle to yourself as the thought occurs to you that she may have all of the family’s recipes memorized already. Wouldn’t surprise you.

Looking through a few more cupboards and cabinets, you can’t find any obvious place to put the cards. Well, it may just be best to find Applejack. You can ask her where to put them or at least just pass them off so you can get back to your duties. Fluttershy would be on her way as soon as word of a sick creature reaches her ears, so you want to get as much done before that just in case you’re the one to look over her procedure.

“Applejack?” you call out as you walk into the next room.

As you push the door open, your eyes settle upon what looks to be some sort of office. There are several small, metal file cabinets on either side of the room. At the other end is a wooden desk with several papers scattered upon its surface. A few manilla folders lay here and there as well, along with some sticky notes adorning their surfaces. Several plastic bins rest in the corner of the room, one of them so heavily packed with papers that the lid can’t be fastened on properly.

You walk forward, taking care not to step on some of the stray papers on the floor. As you draw near the desk, you figure this might be a fine place to leave the cards. The desk seems like it has seen some company quite recently, so you figure somepony would stumble across the cards soon enough should you leave them here.

As you lift your card-bearing hand to the table, you find your eyes starting to skim over the papers. You shake your head a bit. You can’t be snooping back here and you know it. This could be the Apple family’s top secret documents, things that anypony outside the family shouldn’t be allowed to see!

...A notion which only serves to make you more curious.

You rest the recipe cards on the only unoccupied corner of the table, taking care to place them so they don’t slip off. Taking a quick glance to the door, you lift one of the papers from the table. Glancing over it, you find that it seems to be a documentation of the farm’s sales figures. It details income over the months, listing the amount of products sold and the total revenue.

You don’t exactly know what dictates a year being successful or lacking as far as a farm is concerned, but the numbers here don’t look all that bad. Whatever AJ was saying about “struggling by” before doesn’t seem to be a well-founded concern, judging by these numbers.

As you read over the paper some more, a small number in the top right corner catches your eye. Looking closer, you find that this particular paper is actually a few years out of date. That would explain the entire sheet being filled out, after all. Cocking an eyebrow, you look back down to the desk. With your free hand, you begin to brush through the papers, looking for the one dated for the current year.

Eventually, you find the paper in question. Holding up the incomplete record next to the older one, you look back and forth between them, comparing the numbers.

“Oh! Oh. Ooohhhh…”

The numbers on this page are drastically different than the previous one. While expenses have skyrocketed due to various damages and circumstances, the profit has dwindled down to a trickle. It looks as if they’re pulling money from just two weeks ago to cover new costs. If this keeps up, there’s no way that they can make it through the dead of winter which is fast approaching.

Rummaging through the papers again, you look for some sort of chart or list that could be the farm’s saving grace. Finding a stack of such papers, you begin to look through them. They all have a header with the words “CIDER SALES” followed by the occurring year. To your relief, all of these records show a consistently high revenue. However, by the looks of things, even a very good cider season would be squeaking by a razor thin margin.

Releasing the breath you’d been holding, at least you know that not all is lost. It’s still concerning to know that the Apple family sits so close on the edge of financial ruin. The fact that they sometimes struggle with money is well known, but everypony including yourself kind of assumed they’d be fine no matter what. After seeing this, you’re not so sure.

You hear a door slam in the distance with a frustrated grunt. Quickly putting everything back where you found it, you take the recipe cards and go back into the living to try and be as unassuming as possible. Hearing the footsteps walk through the room, they stop for a moment as you decide to just look like you’re going through the recipes again.

As you come out of the room, you barely stop yourself in time from bumping into your boss. You fumble a bit with the cards in your hands before blurting out. “Oh, h-hey Applejack! I was just-”

“What were you doin’ in there?” she inquires, pointing to the room behind you with a scornful expression upon her face.

You shift your legs around to regain your bearings. “Oh, I was just looking for you to, uh, give you these cards! Twilight-”

“Ya didn’t look at anythin’ in there, did ya?” she asks, taking a step forward.

“No, of course not!” you lie, holding up a hand defensively and giving a weak smile.

She simply stands there, arms folded, giving you an interrogative look. Her emerald eyes stare daggers into you and her expression remains dead still, aside from the swift raising of a single eyebrow.

Eventually your smile fades as your fortitude deflates. Applejack has always had a knack for spotting liars. You sigh in defeat. “Well, maybe a little? Sorry...”

She pinches her brow as she gives a haggard sigh. “At least tell me you didn’t see what I hope you didn’t see…”

You idly poke your fingers together as your head tries to retreat into your body. “P-Probably.”

Another sigh from the mare. She takes her hat off and rubs her mane a bit as she steps away from you, looking to the ground in thought. “I really don’t need any other ponies worryin’ about this… Things are tough enough as is.”

A corner of your mouth begins to droop a bit. “Applejack, I am worried, but I only want to help. I’m sure you’ll pull out of this.”

She puts her hat atop her head and tips it back a bit. “Unless ya can whip up a storm or somethin’, I really don’t see it happenin’.”

“Right…” you utter. It really bites knowing there is not a whole lot you can do considering the drought. You’re no expert on weather patterns and development and there’s no way to influence them as an Earth pony. Even if you had access to Unicorn magic, it wouldn’t do any good. As far as you know, Unicorns are restricted from interfering with weather patterns in Ponyville.

“Well, what have we got now?” you ask.

“All we got are less apples,” she replies with a heavy tone.

“What if you were to sell some of the land? Or maybe take some trees for lumber?” you suggest.

Applejack recoils, a look of disgust on her face. “There’s no way I could ever just take in any of mah trees like that!” she says. “Not when they’re still good for fruit. It’d be a darn waste, and there ain’t nothin’ more I hate than wastin’ good fruit.”

You shrink back a bit as your cheeks redden. You didn’t mean to offend her like that.

“As for sellin’ land, that’s a slippery slope,” she goes on to explain. “If we give up what we have now, we got less to pull from later. We may just find ourselves in the very same spot next year with even less options. And before you ask, we already rent property durin’ the winter for any little get-togethers or what not ponies have.”

You sigh, ears flattening back against your head. “Have you asked anypony else for ideas?”

She shakes her head. “I’d really rather not have anypony know that doesn’t need to. So far, that includes me, Big Mac, and Granny.”

“Apple Bloom doesn’t know?” you say in surprise.

“She’s so young. I don’t want to worry her with the possibility of losin’ the farm.” She shakes her head. “And now that you’re in on this, I’d appreciate you keepin’ to yerself.” There’s no threat or fight to her voice. Nor was there any hint of pleading or begging, she still has her pride. It spoke as a flat statement more than anything.

“Sure thing, AJ,” you respond. Inside, you were still trying to think of ponies to ask for help, but maybe worded in a way that doesn’t let out the secret.

Suddenly, her hand reaches out and grabs your wrist as you turn away to leave. “Pinkie promise,” she commands.

“I- er… What?” you blurt out confused.

“I want you to Pinkie promise me that you won’t tell anypony,” she states.

At a loss, you extend your pinky finger out to her.

“No, that’s not-, wait. You don’t know what a Pinkie promise is?” she asks.

“Uh,” you voice, looking at your outstretched pinky.

“No, repeat after me.” She takes her hand back and starts to make some slow, but wild gestures. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” she says, hands following her words.

Confusion at maximum, a spark of realization finally ignites from the random sounding words. “Oh, Pinkie Pie made this?”

“Yeah. And you best keep it when you make it,” she says. “Now go on, do it yerself.”

“Okay. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. I promise,” you say, following her gestures as best as you could.

“Good. Now you really don’t want to break that promise. I remember the time I almost broke one myself.” She shudders a bit as the memory comes back to her. That little reaction sends a small wave of terror down your spine to the consequences you might have just agreed to. “But that won’t be a problem, will it?” she asks.

You shake your head.

“Alright. Now let’s get back to work. There’s still more to be done,” she says, rolling up her sleeves and walking past you out the door.

You set the recipe cards down on the nearest available surface. This is going to be a tough one to figure out, but for now you have some more chores to do.

~*~*~

You force the crowbar in between the boards again, pulling apart the last few boards of the structure. As the rusted nails separate from the wood, the planks fall to the ground with satisfying plonks!

Whipping your mane back and forth, you fling small droplets of sweat around you. The old hut put up a fight, but you’ve finally managed to dismantle it. This chicken coop has been out of commission on the farm for quite some time, so Applejack asked you to tear it apart so it could be put to better use. The various bits and planks would need some touching up, but it can easily find a new role to fill.

You pick up the old lumber and chuck it into a wheelbarrow haphazardly. Truthfully, you haven’t been too dedicated to the task at hand as your thoughts have been elsewhere. Namely on the information you stumbled upon earlier. The numbers linger in your mind, along with Applejack’s request to not share the information.

There's a respect for her desire to keep it hidden, but at the same time you desperately want to help however you can. Ideas are few and far between, and viable options from those ideas are even more scarce. You sigh as you drop a few more planks in the barrow and deposit the rusted nails into a small tin can. You set the can in with the wood and move around to the handles, hoisting the device onto its tire.

With a push, you force the barrow forward, transporting the cargo to the barn. If you remember correctly, AJ asked you to drop the wood off with the uncut logs out back behind the house. The wheel squeaks with each rotation as you move closer and closer to the home, leaving a trail in the dirt behind you. You round the corner of the barn, about to pass by the pig pen.

“Aww, who’s a sweet widdle piggy? You are! Yes you are!”

You take in a breath and close your eyes as you hear the motherly voice drift by. It was unfortunate that things had to come to this. With the parts in your wheelbarrow not going anywhere on their own, you decide to hop over the fence and see if you could help speed up this usually long and arduous process.

Walking inside the pen, you see Applejack leaning against the wall near the door with crossed arms. She has an annoyed expression and doesn’t meet your appearance with anything more than a quick glance.

And then there’s the pony whose voice you heard earlier. Currently scratching behind the ear of Wilfred, the sick pig, who is seated on a giant cushion with a couple aromatherapy candles around.

“So what’s been the problem lately? Too much sun? Not enough water?” Fluttershy asks as she continues giving almost spa-treatment to the pig. The pig only gives a low grunt in return as she continues scratching.

You look over to Applejack, still watching the scene with a stone look. “How long has this been going on for?” you whisper.

Her brow furrows as she watches Fluttershy start petting the belly of the pig, questioning more about its living conditions that you and AJ strive to keep well.

“Three hours,” she replies with a lead tone and clenched teeth.

“You haven’t been here the whole time, have you?” you ask.

She just slowly nods. “Apparently, the pig needs a familiar face around to keep ‘im comfortable.”

Your heart freezes. Three hours, AJ has been unable to leave to do work. You can only imagine the fire slowly building inside her. She already looks ready to punch clean through the next tree she’d have to buck if there wasn’t already so much to do.

“If you could help, she wouldn’t be here.”

You flinch a bit, putting up a hand defensively. “W-Well, if not for his sake, then for yours, maybe?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “‘Preciate the offer, but nah. Ya still got work to do, and Wilfred’s doin’ fine with just me here. No sense in takin’ another hand off the field for… this.” She accentuates her statement by waving a hand to the pampered piggy, who’s currently rolled over on his back as his caretaker lovingly rubs his tummy.

You scratch the back of your head. “Well, alright. Need anything before I take off?”

“Not that I can…” AJ trails off. She looks to the roof for a moment before turning her gaze back to the pegasus. “Wait, Fluttershy, what was that thing ya said ya needed?”

The mare swiftly turns her head at the mention of her name. She pauses in thought for a moment before remembering. “Oh, right!” she says, petting the swine’s head. “Wilfred has an awful tummy ache, and Zecora has just the remedy for it. I’ve used it plenty of times before on my little critters at home, but I don’t have any of it on me right now…”

You nod your head. “Zecora’s tummy ale, got it,” you say, bringing your gaze back to Applejack. “Where does Zecora live again?”

She tips her hat back. “Hope yer alright with a trip through the Everfree. It ain’t too bad, just follow the main path and you’ll find her place.”

You nod the affirmative again. “Alrighty. Anything else before I head out?”

She rolls her eyes a bit in thought before shaking her head, swinging her ponytail around her neck. “Nope. Take her a basket of apples while yer at it though, and tell her I said hi.”

“Alright, be back in a jiffy!” you reply, stepping back out the pen door. AJ gives a simple nod in understanding as Fluttershy gently waves a hand at you as you take your leave.

You let out a sigh after stepping back out into the sun. Applejack has really been on edge lately and now it’s even worse as you know why. Thankfully the two of you were quiet enough so that Fluttershy didn’t overhear. The last thing you want is to cause a rift between her and her friend.

Stepping over the fence this time, you pick up the wheelbarrow and wheel it down the road towards the barn. It’s on the way towards the Everfree and gives you some more time in your thoughts before it’s filled with creepy images from traversing the forest.

The list of ideas for making money and saving the farm still currently sits at zero. There’s nothing that you can make with apples that Sweet Apple Acres doesn’t already sell and apparently they aren’t selling. Maybe some of those new recipes Twilight brought could provide some sort of boost, but something tells you anything other than authentic family cooking might be met with resistance.

Leaving the wheelbarrow of wood beside the barn, you grab a basket of freshly harvested apples and head further down the path.

So if you couldn’t cook anything new, what could you do? Some merchandising, like an official Sweet Apple Acre shirt or ball cap? Unfortunately, that takes money to start production and may just end up leaving you in a bigger hole than before. Plus, such branding of their farm could also be taken as a sort of betrayal to the old fashioned ways they value so highly.

You shake your head in frustration. No matter what, it seems that there aren’t any threads of hope to grab onto. No idea to spin and make everything alright. Even if there was, AJ probably would have thought of it by now.

At the end of your train of thought, you reach the entrance to the Everfree Forest. It was very uncommon for a pony to actually meet a terrible fate within these woods, provided they stay on the main path, but danger is still present and fills your heart with a little terror.

If anypony wanted to feel young again, they didn’t have to travel any further than the entrance of the Everfree Forest. Specifically like a foal in the dead of night shivering under their blanket. The wind howling as every unknown creak and clatter around them could have been what would drag them out of their beds into the darkness. In the shade that would forever block the sunlight, the old ghost tales of children come true.

So a little shiver in the spine is expected when you’re about to enter. Still, you can move fast with your legs and throw a decent punch if it came to that. Although reminding yourself that could very well be attacked isn’t a point of confidence.

With one last gulp to steel your resolve, you walk into the brush.

~*~*~

Your eyes dart to the left and right at every single bump, crack, and shiver of the foliage around you. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. Every single sound of the forest fills your mind with all of the tales of woe of ponies who have gone in here, however illegitimate they may be.

It is understandable, though. Given the fact that the canopy above blots out almost any light that tries to peer its way through, it’s hard to blame somepony for letting their imagination run wild. In reality, most of the noises around you are probably just the wind, or peaceful woodland creatures. With the superstitious aura the forest has grown to have among ponies, it can be very impending when you must trek the path alone.

Thankfully, you have been spared any gruesome fate in the woods. Had it not been for the eerie ambience of the place, the trip would have been quite boring, admittedly. In truth, the rush is sort of pleasant. Gripping the basket of apples in your hands tightly, the slightly faster beating of your heart, craning your head around to every sound nearby, it’s a strange sensation that you would not get anywhere else.

That sensation is about to end, however, as you spot a dim light beyond the plants ahead. You hasten your pace just a bit, hoping that the source is the destination you have been given. Given the view that you are greeted with, you breathe a sigh of relief.

As you draw nearer, you find a much larger tree than those surrounding it. A door has been carved in the front, along with small circular windows here and there. Draped over the limbs are an array of bottles and flasks filled with various fluids, dangling from the tree by ropes. A large, red and green tribal mask rests near the entrance, along with another one mounted over the door. Had it not been for the unique decor and lights, you might have missed the place. Most of the tree has been left intact otherwise.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing you’ve found your destination. It’s quickly followed by a jump at an unpleasant screech from within the forest. You swiftly shuffle over to the door, lifting a hand and tapping your knuckle upon the dusty wood several times. After a moment of silence, you hear some shuffling coming from within the oak. A pair of hooves trotting to the entrance. With a click of the lock, the door creaks open, bringing the homeowner into view.

“Hello friend, please come right in. What brings you to my humble den?” asks the rhyming zebra known as Zecora. She wears her normal brown cloak over her dark clothing, seemingly fitting of a witch doctor.

Stepping through the door and thankfully out of the forest, you reply, “Sent on an errand for AJ and Fluttershy. I understand that you have a remedy for stomach problems in pigs?”

She chuckles. “Pigs and ponies and many more. I’ll show you if you’d close the door.”

Following her command, you close the front door and take a look around. A giant cauldron sits in the middle of the room with wild decor everywhere. Tribal masks, drums, and spiritual objects whose nature you can’t quite discern adorn the walls from top to bottom. The air has the smell of boiling salted grass, which makes you think she might be in the middle of mixing something already.

“So how are you, Zecora?” you offer in the attempt of small talk.

“I am well, though business is slow. No need for potions for the approaching snow,” she responds.

“I didn’t know you had a winter glut,” you say. “Are your ingredients not as plentiful in the cold season?”

“No, I still face adversity for some ponies are still afraid of me,” she explains as she rattles around a small cupboard. “To drink my mixtures, they won’t chance. They’d rather use them on their plants.”

“I see,” you mumble, a bit sad that another pony has to face a drop in income due to the winter. “Sorry to hear that.”

“I have no bills, so that’s okay. And I have food that’s stored away,” she says with a shrug.

“Hm. Fair enough,” you say, as you walk over to one of the chairs on the other end of the room. You glance to Zecora and she gives you a nod, prompting you to plant yourself on the seat. You set the basket of apples you brought along on the floor and idly look around, admiring her unique decor. Just like outside, a few tribal masks are adorned on the walls. In the center of the room is a large, black kettle that is surprisingly clean. All of the shelves have various vials and bottles, some with labels in a language you can’t read.

The zebra walks to and fro between the various bottles. Seems like she knows the placement of the items like the back of her hand, as she hardly takes any time to search for the ingredients she needs. She plucks a vial from the shelf, drips a few drops of into the small pot on the counter, and swiftly grabs the next item. A very methodical flow to her brewing.

Eventually, she ceases grabbing bottles and moves back to the kettle, taking a wooden spoon and stirring it slowly. She keeps her eyes on the mixture as she speaks to you. “As we wait for the potion to turn pitch black, do you happen to know if Twilight is back?”

You lean forward in your chair a bit, causing the legs to creak quietly. “Yeah, she just got back today, actually.”

“I wonder how her travels were. I hope soon to speak with her,” she says, reversing the flow of her spoon in the cauldron.

“Seems like she enjoyed it, and she learned a lot about that study she went to investigate,” you say, waving a hand a bit.

Zecora tilts her head. “Hm? A study, did you say? Of what kind, if I may?”

You rub your head. “Well, that’s the weird part. From what I understand, somepony in Trottingham is selling breast milk. Apparently the sales numbers are actually really impressive.”

She cocks an eyebrow a bit. “Certainly strange, but I will not insult. You can not argue with results.”

“You know the effects of breast milk?” you ask surprised.

She nods her head. “I happen to know quite a bit of its potent benefits. In my tribe, almost every night we’d share in the sweet delight.”

You close your eyes to shove the thought of large group of zebra sharing breast milk out of your mind. However, there’s a warmness in your cheeks that Zecora takes notice of.

“What about what I said made your face start glowing red?” she inquires.

“Was it, like… all the zebras? Every night?” you ask. She nods again to confirm. You take a deep breath to release some of the embarrassment. “It’s just not something you hear about everyday. It’s a mental image thing,” you state, waving a hand in front of your forehead. “But I assume you used cups or jars or something.”

“There always is that way, of course,” she says as she turns back to the mixing pot. “Though we prefer it from the source.”

Your cheeks burn even brighter as you look away. You’re not entirely sure why you find this uncomfortable, but something about it rubs you the wrong way. Still, a burning curiosity keeps you from ending the trail of conversation since Zecora seems alright talking about it.

“I take it there were a lot of children in your tribe then,” you mention.

She looks at you a little confused. “Why you’d think so, I’m not sure. Our tribe was few and most mature.”

“Oh, because, um, you know…” you stammer, rubbing the back of your head. “My experience with animals and such led me to believe that mammals only give milk after birth.”

She nods with understanding. “While certainly that is how it works, but potion knowledge has its perks.” She sprinkles a bit more powder into the brew.

“Wait, you had a potion that made zebra in your tribe give milk?” you ask, your wonder completely replacing your sense of shame. “What’s it take to make it?”

“Secret herbs mixed carefully. Some I can’t get in the Everfree,” she explains as she drags a finger along the top of the slurry in the bowl.

“Like what?” you press.

“Forgive me for I cannot say. Only zebra may know the way,” she says with an apologetic shrug. “Its process can be rather long, and dangerous if it’s made wrong.”

You sigh, deciding not to push it further if it’s a secret of her people. The idea still leaves blush on your face anyway.

She smiles without turning back to you. “Pardon me if you are distressed. Perhaps from this topic we should regress.”

You nod in agreement, still trying to bat certain pictures out of your brain. “R-Right… But yeah, that’s the study she was taking a look at.”

“It certainly an interesting one,” she says, pulling her spoon from the pot. She dabs the black fluid on her tongue, smacking her lips at the tiny sample. “And just like that, the potion is done!”

“Oh, great! Thanks again for this!” you say, receiving a nod in response. She kneels down and opens up the cabinet below, digging around for an empty bottle.

In the meantime, questionable images float around in your brain over her statement earlier. You can’t get over the fact that sharing something so… intimate is something that comes naturally to some. You lean back and look around room a bit in passing as she does her searching. Eventually, your eyes come to rest on the basket of apples on the floor next to you.

And then another image pops into your mind. You cringe as you think of it at first but then…

...No. No way, that wouldn’t, she won’t. There’s no way, but… maybe, it just might?

You look back up to Zecora as she’s just about to begin pouring the mixture into an empty bottle. “Hey, Zecora, do you think you could whip up another potion for me? The one you mentioned, that promotes breast milk production?”

As the words leave your lips, you realize just how weird that sounds. So does she, as she flinches a bit, causing the pot and the bottle to cling against one another. She stares at the wall with wide eyes for a moment before turning to you, brow raised. “Forgive me if I misconstrue, but why would you need such a brew?”

You open your mouth and take a breath to respond to the question. Unfortunately, you have no words in your mind to explain without explaining why you’d need such a thing. You really don’t want to let slip Sweet Apple Acres’ money problems and break your promise to Applejack.

“Because… reasons?” you say with a shrug.

Zecora’s emotionless face tells you that’s not good enough. “Such a potion I can’t let go for reasons that I do not know,” she states plainly, turning back to her work and pouring the black liquid into the small glass bottle.

You look to the ground and wrack your brain for an excuse. Each possible thing you could say has some sort of problem with it. You don’t want to break your promise to AJ, but you don’t want to lie to Zecora either.

However, you only promised that you wouldn’t reveal their money issues, right?

“It’s something for Sweet Apple Acres,” you reveal.

Zecora raises a curious eyebrow.

“Winter’s coming and Twilight told me that an article in a popular magazine is coming that sings the praises of breast milk,” you explain. Now time to fumble over your words again as you try to get over the embarrassment of what you’re about to suggest “And I think, uh, that perhaps, um, maybe that-”

“That the apple family ilk could maybe sell this nutritious milk?” she thankfully finishes for you. Again, with no sign that such an idea of a mare selling something like this would bother her. She taps her chin with a finger. “Under the Sweet Apple Acre label, only Applejack would be able.” She looks at you with an inquisitive gaze. “Do you think that one mare will supply the town of Ponyville?”

“We’d keep it small. Specialized orders only,” you specify. “It’d depend on how much she could… you know, make if she’s willing at all.”

Another tiny hum is all you get in reply. Eventually, she starts slowly nodding. “Well you first have this potion to take,” she says while giving you the bottle of medicine for Wilfred, “but the other, I could make. Talk to Applejack and see if she would willingly agree.”

“I will,” you reply while eyeing the black goop in a bottle she’s given you. “What do I owe you for this?”

“Fluttershy’s order is already paid,” she explains with a wave of her hand. “She’ll come when another is to be made.”

“Thanks, Zecora!” you say, a little burden lifted off your mind and wallet. “And I’ll talk to AJ and see if she’s willing to go with the, um… plan.”

“Before you go, if I may, I have something that I would like to say,” she catches you with before you turn to step out the door. “If you could do something for me?” she asks.

“What would that be?” you inquire.

“The potion… for my milk for free,” she says.

You think for a moment. There are still a lot of obstacles between you, her, and the milk that you couldn’t promise anything. “I’ll see what I can do, but I think it shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” you answer. As long as she wasn’t asking for money, this seems like the better option anyway.

She smiles. “Goodbye and be sure to come back after you speak with Applejack,” she calls out as you open the door.

“I will. Thanks again!” you say as you close the door behind you with the potion and wander back into the spooky forest. However, the noises are drowned out and the creepy thoughts replaced by a new rising dread coming up in your mind.

How in the world are you going to explain this to Applejack?

Author's Note

Whirring Gears: Rhyming is hard
Whirring Gears: Forgive me if I pass it early for I cannot keep it up.
Kody910: Dude don't worry
Kody910: This is the part I was dreading too XD
Kody910: How to steer the topic to the question...
Whirring Gears: I thought it was wait for Zecora to make the tummy stuff and then she asks if Twilight is back.
Kody910: Ah, alrighty
Kody910: fuck
Kody910: Rhyming IS hard
Whirring Gears: And keeping rhythm
Kody910: I've been sitting here for 30 minutes trying to think of one rhyme ._ .
Whirring Gears: I want to sleep or punch a ram, because rhyming's hard at 2 am.
Kody910: wut XD
Whirring Gears: Put that in the author's notes. Seriously.
Kody910: k

(Thanks to Eights for proofreading!)