There’s a special time of night, one which even Luna herself still finds fascinating; that time of night where the partiers and late night dwellers have made their way to bed, but still before most ponies would rise to begin their days. It was in that stillness that serenity fell over Equestria. Where senses were heightened. Where the sounds of a pony’s actions were amplified from the lack of competition. Where those rising for the day ahead, and those returning home, would take extra cautions to prevent their delicate hoof steps from echoing through their homes.
Applejack was one of these ponies.
Rising early came as naturally to her as apple bucking and rodeo roping. It was partly due to her upbringing. Her parents had always taken care to instill in her a strong work ethic. “Apples can grow on their own,” they would remind her as they roused her from her slumber back in those early mornings, “but they flourish when supported in their growth.” It stood to reason though, failing to attend to a crop of apples could mean disaster; not just for the farm’s finances, but for the town of Ponyville itself. The Zap Apples, the cider, and the other several varieties of trees coating Sweet Apple Acres provided more than just a livelihood, they provided the necessary sustenance for an entire town as well as all who visited.
It was partly this thought that drove her each morning.
As was usual for her routine, she rolled from under her covers. The wooden floorboards lightly groaned under the fresh weight, as they too had just settled in for the night. Softly though, with a practiced step, she let herself out of her room and passed down the hallway to the stairs. She used to need a lantern, but she had followed this route so many times by now that she knew it with her eyes closed which, on nights of a new moon, she could very well have her eyes closed and not seen a difference. It was this well-practiced routine which allowed her to frequently make it down to the kitchen without waking anyone else along the way.
They deserved to sleep a bit longer.
It was the peak of harvest season. Applejack still remembered last year, when her brother was injured and she fully realized just how much work it was for one pony to do alone, much less with friends and family supporting her. Taking a moment from her reflections, she opened the cupboard and removed the ingredients necessary to start breakfast. She and her brother, Big Macintosh, usually rotated the cooking duties. He could make some mean apple fritters and the thought of them left her mouth watering but, with the day that likely lay ahead of them all, something more substantial would be needed.
One step at a time though, the day would be upon them soon enough.
She lit the lanterns in the kitchen as well as the pilot on the stove. Soon warmth and light began to fill the room. Against the dark of the night outside, the steady burn of the flames glowed with the force of Celestia’s sun. With some degree of work, and with a bit of patience, the scent of breakfast permeated the room, and began to bring its flavorful promises to the rest of the house. Now, blending with the increased activity the kitchen, the rest of the house started to rise. Creaks, scrapes and bumps all heralded the progress. Her brother was the first to arrive. He typified a “healthy appetite” and he would be hard pressed to miss a meal. Granny Smith, the eldest of the Apple Family, arrived shortly thereafter, throwing an appreciative smile and nod toward Applejack as a silent thanks for the meal.
Conspicuously, though not surprisingly, absent was the youngest member of the family: Applebloom.
Knowing Applejack had already been through enough work preparing a meal for four, Big Mac hesitated in taking his seat at the table once he noted the absence.
“Want me to go get her?” he asked.
“Nah,” Applejack dismissed the offer with a serene smile, “Get to eatin’. You know what today is, and the food’s hot now. Besides, she’s still reeling from the last wakeup call you gave her.”
He chuckled, “E-yup.”
“What made you think it would be a good idea to go running into her room hollerin’ like that knowing she was still jumpy from that monster story anyway?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time, didn’t it?” He smiled and stood there, begging her response, the one he knew she’d have to give.
“Yeah,” she smirked in spite of her attempt at being angry. “That was pretty funny seeing her leap through the top of the canopy on her bed like that.”
Even Granny Smith couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of that night. “I guess ol’ Granny Smith can still spin a good yarn for an old gal, can’t she?”
Applebloom had just rolled over in bed, still clinging to the last vestiges of sleep. Subtle noises and scents had begun to stir her senses, but her mind was still densely clouded in sleep. Such was her state when Applejack entered her room.
“Mornin’ Applebloom,” she said softly from the doorway, “breakfast is ready.”
Nothing more than a dismissive and annoyed grunt replied from the bed as the lump under the covers shifted again.
“C’mon Sugar Cube,” Applejack cajoled, moving further into the room, hating to halt the dreams of her younger sister, but needing to get her up. It was a bumper crop and it was an all-apples-on-deck sort of season.
She yanked the covers off the bed with a quick motion.
The yellow filly in bed crunched into a ball, fighting back the sudden chill that enveloped her. “A-a-a-ppleja-a-ack,” she pleaded, hoping for even a few more minutes of sleep.
“Any other day’d be fine Applebloom,” she sighed, putting on a stern voice, “but you know what time of year it is, and we’ll need you out there just as much as anyone else.”
“I know, I know,” she grunted, rolling her head over to look at her sister. Her words worked hard to convince herself, as well as her sister, that she fully intended to get out of bed. Applejack just stood there, understandingly smiling back, waiting. “Ah horsefeathers,” Applebloom groaned and she rose and hopped to the floor, trotting out of the room towards breakfast.
“That’s the spirit!” Applejack cheered on with a slight touch of sarcasm as she watched her sister pass, then turned to follow her back down to the kitchen.
The time of the Princess of the Night was waning, and the first hint of Celestia’s sun could be seen at the horizon as a pale gray began to tint the landscape with the morning’s light. Out at the barn the Apple family was assembled and was sorting out the tasks ahead in spite of the early morning chill which hung in the air. In a reunion of sorts members of the extended family who had been available had made the trek, ready to lend a hand where needed. Applejack, Applebloom, and their cousin Apple Fritter were assigned the task of working the north orchard. Not having seen each other since the last barn raising Applejack and Apple Fritter were eager to catch up. Sleep, however, was again trying to catch up with Applebloom. Hitching herself up to the applecart, Applejack took pity on her quasi-conscious sister. Perhaps giving her something to keep her mind active would help keep her awake.
“Why don’t you ride in back Applebloom? You can make sure it’s all clean before we start loading it up.”
“Whatever you say, sis,” the little yellow filly replied as she groggily clambered up the wheel on the side of the cart.
Seeing that her sister was situated, Applejack started off along the path toward the back of the orchard with Apple Fritter trotting alongside.
“How many trips do you think we’ll have to make,” Fritter wondered.
“I reckon we can probably get nine or ten good cartloads before lunch if we work it right,” Applejack replied. Looking again for a way to jumpstart her sister for the day she tossed the question to her too, “What do you think, Applebloom? Think we can beat our record from last year?”
Silence responded.
Applejack looked back “Applebloom?”
The filly had fallen asleep. The folded canvas that would later be used to line the cart now served as her mattress. Serenity again crested the filly’s face as her restful breathing kept time with the pace of the cart.
Applejack and Fritter looked on before turning to share a glance and a light snicker. Mornings are always harder for some than others. Memories of their fillyhood reminded them of that. She could rest for now, like they had done when they were her age. She’d be up and bucking soon enough. Fritter and Applejack carried on their conversation softly. The wheels of the cart crackling against the dirt path and their footsteps rhythmically tapped out their pace as they proceeded through the orchard.
The first glimpse of the sun and its warming rays had now crested the horizon, bringing with it the energy of the day to come and lit their way as they travelled forward.
