The Apple and the Fox
By Tundara
Ponyville was filled with the din of hammers and chisels on stone. High above, the brilliant summer sun shone down on a field of workers at the town’s southern edge. Bright yellow hard hats glinted as the small army of ponies worked. Cranes hoisted massive blocks of midnight marble. Each block weighed over a ton, the chains and straps lifting the stone groaning with the effort to shift them to their final resting place.
Earlier in the morning, the workers had thought they heard drums echoing out of the Everfree Forest, carried by a hot, humid wind. The wind had shifted, and the sounds of drums had faded, leaving the workers to shrug their shoulders and return to building the southern face of Notre-Dame des Etoiles. Only a year into the project and the the future cathedral was showing its potential.
Built atop the site of Ponyville’s old library, the cathedral and surrounding buildings would become the centre for the Sisterhood of the Twilight Princess. The ancient tree that had housed the library had been moved, shifted a few hundred yards to its new home where it would become a reliquary to house the Friendship Scrolls and other artifacts of the princess.
The cathedral itself was little more than a few stubby walls and pillars. When completed it would dominate the surrounding town, being several times the size of the next largest building.
A shout rose up from the edge of the construction zone.
Several workers had to leap up and out of the way as a form, as dark as the stones it jumped across, sped past. White, curved fangs shone like lamps from a midnight blue muzzle beneath yellow, glowing eyes. Paws whispered across the dry, bare earth, leaving ghostly, wet prints behind while three tails whipped along in the form’s wake.
“Hey, Anchor Bolt, did that look like a fox made out of water?” one worker asked another after the form surged past.
“Eeyup,” drawled the other earth-pony, pushing up his hard-hat.
“Should we, um, do anything about it?”
The second worker gave the first a level glance, and then shook his head. “Nope. You’ll get used to this kind of thing in Ponyville,” Anchor Bolt said, returning his attention to the marble he needed to shape in front of him.
The workers barely had time to lift their hammers before a young mare, barely more than a filly, burst through the site. Her golden yellow coat was covered in black stripes that seemed to shift and undulate as she ran, her head held low and amber eyes fixated on the three-tailed fox. Gold hoop rings bounced along with her ears, matched by two bands around her neck. Cinched tight around her waist were saddlebags, their contents shifting and clinking with every step. A long pink mane billowed behind her, rising up as she sprung off a ramp, landed atop a suspended block, and flipped off the other side, gaining several strides on the fox in the process.
“That was Apple Bloom, wasn't it?” the first worker asked, slack jawed at the acrobatic maneuvers.
“Just get back to work, Lintel.”
Her chest heaving, Apple Bloom didn’t spare a glance to the workers having to jump out of her path. “Get back here, you darn kitsune!” She yelled after the fox.
Leaping up on top of a scaffolding, the fox glanced back at the teen-aged pony, its tails snapping back and forth with anger. Hissing, she pointed her tails over her back at Apple Bloom. Ghostly blue flames ignited on the tip of each tail, an evil grin taking to the fox’s muzzle.
“Oh, Celestia,” Apple Bloom barely had time to grumble before the flames were launched at her.
Jumping into a sideways roll, Apple Bloom landed on one hoof, pivoted, and bounced back into the air while ghost-fire burst down on the spots she’d occupied moments before. Tucking her legs to her barrel, Apple Bloom felt a third and fourth ball of fire hiss past her sides, lightly kissing her blank flanks. Landing behind a finished marble block, Apple Bloom took a moment to gather her breath before charging around her cover.
“She had to be a kitsune,” Apple Bloom mumbled as the chase resumed, the fox leaping from the scaffolding to a partially completed wall.
Pony below and fox above, the pair moved out of the construction area and into the town proper. Once more, ponies were having to scramble out of the way, many hurling insults at the racing pair. Reaching Carousel Boutique, the shop’s windows dark and boarded over, as they had been for the past year, the fox slowed, glancing over its shoulder.
“Awww, little pony getting tired?” the fox chortled, her voice high and piercing, as if it were talons scraping along a chalkboard.
“I ain’t even broken a sweat yet,” Apple Bloom lied as she slowed to a trot.
She narrowed her eyes, wondering what trick the fox was about to play next. Hopping onto its back paws, the fox paced back and forth in front of the shop door. Holding its forepaws out wide, toes wiggling in a ‘come get me’, she gave a sharp laugh.
“You’re about to faint, little pony.” The fox bounced from paw to paw almost like it was dancing. “Little pony will never be proper shaman. You should have summoned a stupid cat spirit or racoon. Your master must be so disappointed in little pony. You not even have cutie mark, ha-ha-ha!”
“Take that back!” Apple Bloom snorted and stamped a hoof.
“Make me, if you can!” the fox taunted as it turned and ran up the Boutique’s side.
Once more the chase was on, Apple Bloom darting and weaving through the streets as the fox moved from rooftop to rooftop.
“Stupid spirit, get down here!” Apple Bloom yelled up.
“I rather prefer it up here,” was the reply.
“Fine, then I’ll come to you,” Apple Bloom said, screeching to a halt and flipping open her saddlebags.
From within their once ordered depths she pulled a small, red vial. Popping the cork out with her teeth, she upended the vial and poured its bitter contents down her throat. A cooling wave, not unlike peppermint, burst from Apple Bloom’s stomach and down to the tips of her hooves. Her legs began to jitter, a slender smile working it’s way onto her face as she gauged the distances and angle between her and the rooftop. With a yell, Apple Bloom leapt high into the sky.
“I hate shamans,” the fox said in a dry voice as Apple Bloom fell with the sun at her back, landing only a few strides from the no longer grinning spirit.
Staying only a single step ahead of the determined pony, the spirit darted from roof to roof. From the streets and buildings came startled cries of ponies as the pair crisscrossed town. Seeing it could not outpace the pony, the kitsune again began to flick ghost flame towards Apple Bloom. Jumping into the sky, Apple Bloom pulled a trio of round, black vials from her saddlebags.
“Catch!” Apple Bloom called, tossing the vials with all her might.
As an earth pony, and having taken several different potions over the course of the day, her throw proved to be strong and true. It still wasn’t enough. Yowling, the fox skidded to a stop, her tails stretching out to catch two of the vials and send them spinning off into the distance. The third was struck by ghost-fire, the pottery bursting and contents burning into a thick, greasy cloud. Cursing the spirit, Apple Bloom’s eyes darted and scanned the cloud. A puff on the far side indicated the fox was on the move again.
Onward they went, heading towards the market district.
The farther they moved from the forest, the more they ran and jumped, the more Apple Bloom’s thoughts slipped into a state of relaxed contemplation. Her body moved on its own, reflexes honed under Zecora’s watchful eye guiding Apple Bloom while the events of the morning replayed themselves. Perhaps there was a clue on how to catch the fox hidden within.
24 hours earlier...
“Come on, Zecora, can’t you tell me now what the big surprise is? Please?” Apple Bloom practically vibrated as she trotted along beside her master.
“You must be patient, my apprentice. This walk is far from endless,” Zecora said, brushing aside a fern to reveal one of the numerous glades throughout the Everfree.
This glade was strewn with weathered, round rocks atop a bed of pebbles. The rocks varied in size, the smallest being about as big as Apple Bloom’s head, the largest as tall as Mac. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or pattern to their placement. It was almost as if a giant had been playing marbles. At the centre of the glade sat the largest stone yet. It had been cut in half, creating a table.
Atop the table, or perhaps altar, Apple Bloom corrected, sat several unlit candles, a couple bowls, and an assortment of vials and jars filled with alchemical reagents.
“Zecora, what’s going on?” Apple Bloom asked as she propped herself up to look over the ingredients. She saw wormwood, sandsage, hearts desire, toad jelly, and wisp ash. Those were just the ones she recognised. “We learning a new potion?”
“In a way, though not as you might expect. What we will make will help you reflect.” Sitting next to the altar, Zecora motioned for Apple Bloom to face her. “You have studied long and hard, and there is little left for me to teach. Soon, will come the time where on your own you must reach. Yet there is one trial yet to pass, before you can claim to be a shamaness.”
“The Spirit Chase,” Apple Bloom gulped, looking now at the gathered ingredients with fear rather than wonder.
Zecora nodded solemnly.
“Before the rite begins, there is one you must meet. To succeed without her advice would be an impossible feat.”
From around the altar stepped what Apple Bloom first took to be a fox. Her fur was a deep, burnished red that shone with gold under the afternoon sun. Large, blue eyes identical to Zecora’s watched Apple Bloom with a mixture of curiosity and light humour, while the corner of her muzzle was pulled up into a slight grin. There wasn’t any sound as she moved, the small stones littering the ground undisturbed and the few blades of yellow grass unbent by her passage.
Sitting down next to Zecora, seven tails rose up, creating a fan behind the fox’s head. Each tail was a different colour with a white tip, forming a partial rainbow. On each tail was a glyph. Apple Bloom recognised the glyphs for ‘speed’, ‘fire’, and ‘cunning’. The fox spread her seven tails and thumped them seven times on the ground as she returned Apple Bloom’s stare.
“Greetings, Bloom of the Apples,” the fox said, her voice light and airy, with a playful resonance.
“Hello.” Apple Bloom waved slowly, feeling a little blush creep onto her cheeks as she did so. “Mac always said I should tell new ponies, or foxes I suppose, my name… But you already know it. But I don’t know yours…”
“My kind have many names. To the buffalo we are Inola. The Halla refer to us as Refr. Those of Neighpon call me a Kitsune. The Griffons and Zebra name us Vulpe. As for me, I am simply Sefra.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Sefra,” Apple Bloom gave an innocent smile as she offered a hoof in greeting.
Taking the hoof in her paw, Sefra turned to Zecora, saying, “I like this one, Zecora. She has a good heart. But is she strong enough for this test?”
“Apple Bloom is quick of wit and determined to prevail. I have no fear that she will fail.”
Sefra gave her chin a slight incline, as if thinking.
“She is still young, my friend. Never in my many years have I heard of a pony, let alone one so small, attempting the Spirit Chase.”
“Hey! I ain’t small! I’m almost mare-grown!” Apple Bloom snorted, her muzzle crinkling at the perceived insult.
“Yet you have not found your ‘cutie’ mark,” Sefra pointed out, jabbing a stubby claw at Apple Bloom’s bare flank.
Her face turning a red so bright it could light a moonless night, Apple Bloom growled and advanced on the spirit. “Just because I ain’t got my mark yet don’t mean I can’t do this!”
“My mistake,” Sefra snickered behind a paw, her tails dancing mirthfully back and forth.
“That is quite enough, both of you. There is still much for us to do.” Zecora gave Sefra a slight glare, before turning her attention back to Apple Bloom. “Magic can come from within and without. In the strength of spirits, there is no doubt. Lure one to our plane you must, then catch, bind, and earn it’s trust. One night you have to prepare for this trial. To catch a spirit requires great guile.”
“Prepare?” Apple Bloom looked between Zecora and the altar. No, table, she corrected. It was definitely just a table.
“You have this night, to make as many potions as you might.” Zecora waved a hoof towards the table’s contents. “In the morning I will return to see your trial start. But for now, I will depart.”
“Wait, ain’t you going to tell me what I should make?” Apple Bloom called after Zecora, the shaman not responding as she disappeared back into the heart of the forest.
“You should get started,” Sefra said, jumping up onto one of the nearby stones, where she proceeded to lay her head down on folded paws. “You have until the dawn to create everything you’ll need.”
“But I don’t know what that is!” Apple Bloom protested, hooves waving wildly.
“You don’t? This will be a rather short chase then,” the spirit smirked, her eyes glowing slits in the growing dusk. “Zecora has been teaching you for… three years now? A short apprenticeship, true. Maybe you aren’t ready for this. But she seems convinced…” Sefra shrugged, fully closing her eyes.
Grinding her teeth in frustration, both at the kitsune and at the very vague instructions, Apple Bloom took stock of her, well, stock of ingredients. In addition to the vials and bowls, there were a few pots, and a small pile of wood and kindling.
“So… I’m going to be chasing a spirit…” Apple Bloom talked to herself as she began to sort out the ingredients. “I’ll need to be able to catch it… So…”
From her spot, Sefra watched the pony work from one eye, the other keeping watch on the woods. Though the Everfree was far calmer than it had been in a thousand years, the forest was far from safe, and they were far from civilization. True, most of the dangers in this part of the forest knew of Apple Bloom, and knew to avoid her lest they draw Zecora’s ire.
All through the night Apple Bloom worked, creating potion after potion. She was a light, yellow blur, mixing, grinding, pouring, and chanting. On one side, Apple Bloom stacked her creations, while the other slowly emptied of supplies.
Conversation between the pair was light. Every now and then Apple Bloom would ask about the coming trial, or about Sefra herself. The spirit shared little of her history, except that she’d been bound to only two other shamans before Zecora. On the trial, Sefra was far more talkative.
“Do I get to choose?” asked Apple Bloom as dawn approached.
Sefra paused in her stargazing. She missed how the stars used to dance. Arrakis still danced, but she was often alone now.
“No,” Sefra finally answered, rolling onto her back, “and yes. You will call, and a kitsune will answer. Which kitsune, however?” Sefra shrugged.
Looking up from the pot she was stirring, Apple Bloom frowned at the answer.
“When I catch her, what do I do?”
Grinning wide, Sefra replied, “If you catch, you will know what to do. If you can’t catch her, then you aren’t a Shaman, and shouldn’t know the answer.”
“Well, that’s helpful,” Apple Bloom grumbled, pouring the contents of the pot into a vial. “Tell me about the kitsune. Zecora never told me about your kind.”
“What is there to say? Other than we are fast and cunning,” Sefra gave a low, growling laugh, flipping back onto her belly. “The older we become, the more tails we grow. And each of our tails grants us a different power. The wise can read the glyphs. To catch a kitsune requires—”
“I see you two are well. That makes my heart swell,” came Zecora’s voice out of the early morning gloom.
Sefra jumped several hoof lengths into the air with a yelp, landing on her paws with her fur outstretched. She reminded Apple Bloom of the time Sweetie had accidentally shocked Opal.
“Zecora, don’t sneak up on us like that!” the fox pouted, grabbing her tails to smooth her fur.
“I am sorry old friend, but I could not resist. Giving you a fright was a chance that could not be missed,” Zecora laughed, giving the spirit an apologetic smile as she stepped up to the table. From a set of saddlebags, she withdrew a mahogany box, placing it on the table next to Apple Bloom’s pile of potions. Tapping the box with a hoof, Zecora said, “I see you have made much progress this night. That you have done so well fills me with delight. Before the ritual, I have gifts to give. It is my hope you will carry them for as long as you live.”
Opening the box, Zecora turned it to face Apple Bloom. Peaking inside, Apple Bloom only just managed to hold back a joyous whoop. Staring up at her were a set of earrings and two bangles. Removing her bow to help the bangles slide down her neck, Apple Bloom beamed up at Zecora. Her chest felt like it was going to burst, or a song was about to flow through her.
It took all her will not to jitter as Zecora pierced her ears. A small part of her squirmed thinking what Applejack would say when she got home. The squirming became a short yelp as the thin needle pierced her skin. An application of an ointment to prevent infection, and the earrings were added.
Finally, Apple Bloom’s creations were put into a set of small saddlebags, and the bags fitted around her waist.
Taking a step back, Zecora gave Apple Bloom a proud, almost motherly smile. It was a smile Apple Bloom returned with equal fervor. Over the years, Zecora had become like a mother, teaching Apple Bloom as much about morality as magic and alchemy. Applejack and Mac had helped, had been there for her, but at the end of the day, they were her siblings, not parents. There was always an off feelings whenever one had tried to act like her mom or dad. It left Apple Bloom’s mane itching.
But with Zecora, it had always felt right, though Apple Bloom had never really thought much about it before.
As the sun rose, and Zecora wiped a proud tear from her eye, Apple Bloom understood at last how much she loved and respected the zebra.
“Now, it is time for the ritual to truly begin. To claim the mantle of ‘shaman’, should you win,” Zecora said, forcing her face to return to a neutral expression.
Again, Zecora retrieved an item from her saddlebags. She placed a pot of black paint in front of her; the heavy odor of saffron and lacquer drifting across Apple Bloom’s nose. Dipping a hoof into the pot, Zecora indicated that Apple Bloom should stand. From her perch, Sefra began to sing, her voice sharp and clear.
Come, come and see,
A Shaman is anointed today.
With eyes true and clear,
To see Ioka as she is meant to be.
Around Apple Bloom’s eyes Zecora applied the paint, creating a mask that swooped from the corners, curling beneath her ears. A piercing chill sunk deep into Apple Bloom’s face wherever the paint was applied. Blinking back a couple tears, the glade became bathed in a soft, blue light that danced and hung like sheets in the air.
Come, come and speak,
A Shaman is reborn today.
With tongue fast and true,
To share Ioka’s hidden mystique.
Paint swirled around Apple Bloom’s jaw and over her lips. Her teeth ached and her tongue throbbed, but Apple Bloom did not make a noise as Zecora moved to her ears.
Come, come and hear,
A Shaman ascends today.
With hearing fine and sweat,
To listen to Ioka’s music clear.
The chill covered the back of Apple Bloom’s ears, and as Zecora’s touch retreated, drums began to roll through the Everfree. Deep, rumbling drums. The tops of the pines seemed to shake in the blue light as the music sunk deeper throughout the woods.
Come, come and chase,
A Shaman is tested today.
With body fast and strong,
To guard Ioka’s enchanted embrace.
Growing louder, the drums rose to a crescendo as Zecora painted Apple Bloom’s withers, sides, and legs. As the last of the paint was applied, the drums ceased, the air stilled, and a heavy silence rushed to fill the void.
Unsure what came next, Apple Bloom started to look up at Zecora, but movement at the glade’s edge caught her attention. Something was moving within the shrinking shadows. Peering closer, she saw amber eyes glowing in the dark. Apple Bloom’s breath caught in her throat. A long leg slid out of the gloom, followed by a pink nose and long, tapered muzzle. The fox’s long ears swiveled around, honing in on the slightest sound.
Timidly, she darted forward, vanishing behind a stone for a moment before emerging from around another. In a zigzagging pattern, the fox drew closer and closer to the trio. No more than a dozen hooves away, she stepped out into the open, her three tails raised high. Apple Bloom saw the glyphs for ‘Fire’, ‘Water’, and ‘Laughter’, bright against the foxes dark fur. Halting, the fox set her eyes on Apple Bloom, the amber ords growing impossibly wide. Releasing a yelp, she turned and ran.
Like a loosed hound, Apple Bloom took off after the fox, her hooves kicking up pebbles as she galloped into the forest’s heart. Trees whipped past their heads, the chase simple and pure; a flat out race. Looking back, the fox snarled before bouncing off a log, altering her direction at a right angle. Slowing just enough to take the corner, Apple Bloom smiled and laughed.
She could hear the drums again, their frenzied tempo driving her short legs to move faster. A break in the music told Apple Bloom to jump. She cleared a small culvert that had been hidden by a shrub, the drums resuming as her hooves dug into the soft earth on the far side. From ahead Apple Bloom could hear the gentle hiss and bubble of water.
The Everfree River, she reasoned.
Letting out a laugh of her own, the fox plunged through a gap in the trees and out into bright sunshine. Without a splash or ripple, she vanished into the water as Apple Bloom skidded to a stop at the river’s bank. A bare moment later, not near long enough to have swam across, the fox emerged on the river’s far side.
It seemed as if the river itself thrust upwards, taking the shape of the fox.
“Silly pony, silly pony, can’t catch me. Silly pony, silly pony, dumb as dumb can be!” taunted the fox, waving her posterior at Apple Bloom before blowing a raspberry.
Apple Bloom didn’t respond, instead she pulled from her saddlebags a large, crystal snowflake and tossed it at the river. A noise like breaking glass filled the air the moment the crystal landed, the river turning to ice for a hundred lengths in both directions.
“Well, that’s cheating,” the watery fox pouted, before turning and bounding off again, heading in the direction of Ponyville and the sound of hammers.
And so the chase went, out of the Everfree and through the construction site, into the town before reaching the market.
Jumping off the last roof, the fox spun in mid-air, launching a last cluster of ghost-fire. Though her lungs burned and her body ached, Apple Bloom followed the fox, accepting the fires’ stinging blows upon her face and chest. Two sets of eyes widened, and Apple Bloom knew that the chase had reached it’s end. Wrapping her hooves about the fox in a tight tackle, they fell together, striking an awning before tumbling down atop the Sweet Apple Acre apple cart.
“What in Tartarus?” Applejack exclaimed, jumping away from the struggling ball of fur and water.
A ring formed around the pair. Yowling and spitting, the fox bit Apple Bloom’s foreleg, while her tails coiled around the filly’s barrel and hind legs. Suppressing the pain that flared through the tired limb, Apple Bloom used her earth pony strength, what little remained, to break the fox’s grip and force her into a pin. Panting, her breaths fast and laboured, Apple Bloom glared down into eyes that mirrored her own.
“I’m Apple Bloom,” she managed to say between gasps.
A little tingle flickered across Apple Bloom's flanks, like a warm spark of electricity that soothed rather than shocked. She heard a little murmur rise up among the crowd, but remained focused on the no longer struggling fox. There was a whisper that didn't belong to anypony, and one last rumble of the drum.
“Orenda,” replied the kitsune, the fire leaving her eyes. Her tails grew slack, and her fur lost it’s liquid appearance, becoming a wintery blue. “It’s nice to meet you, Shaman Apple Bloom.”
Author's Note
This is what happens when I try to 'take a break'.
The inspiration for The Apple and the Fox comes from three places. While working on Chapter 17 of Myths and Birthrights I kept wanting to do something different with the shamans and their rites of passage. So far they were fairly generic practitioners of magic. I thought to myself, 'What if they joined with a single spirit, and drew a lot of their powers from him/her?'. Zubu (A character in the main story) and his penchant for seeing spirits everywhere settled the matter.
But what really got me rolling into this story and just wouldn't let me go was the idea of a slightly older Apple Bloom using parkour to chase after a large panther. Toss in a song with a good beat and the pair, and story, just took off.
At first Orenda was going to be a Bakeneko she was chasing, but as the story was being written, I decided to switch to a Kitsune. The Kitsune are just more well known than the Bakeneko. Also, after I started writing Sefra (and falling in love with the character) I realised that it made more sense to have Bloom summon the same type of spirit as Zecora.
According to my (admittedly limited) searching, Orenda means 'magic power'.
Shame I couldn't get this story published for Michelle Creber's birthday. I only became aware of her birthday at the last minute and the story wasn't ready to go.
^.^<b <---- Sefra giving a thumbs up.
The Chase Music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKhT3W2lL4M
