Wind rustled through the old autumnal leaves bordering the Everfree Forest. Large bulbs of fruit were just going into bloom, revealing the unripened green flesh of an apple. Harvesting season was nearly upon the farm owners, but there seemed to be no movement on the bountiful acres of land.
The skies shined with the slightest illumination of moonlight as the moon sailed through the skies to finish its revolution around the land.
On the edges of the orchard’s reach was a darkened red barn, the faintest hint of candlelight coming from the inside. The compact room held few luxuries; a rocking chair that never stopped moving back and forwards, atop which a wizened green mare sat , a grimace on her wrinkled face as sleep eluded her. Her lips seemed to be mouthing a silent prayer.
A large couch occupied the other end of the room, coloured and stained by years of constant use. A large pile of quilted blankets that seemed vaguely pony shaped lay in a bundle on the old cushion.
The pile of blankets seemed to be having trouble breathing, shuddering as quiet whimpers and cries racketed the small room. It was the only sound penetrating the silence of the nighttime air.
Slowly and deliberately, a black topped white nose poked its way out of the blankets. Beady black eyes soon followed as the small face of a border collie peeked its way out of the warm embrace of a yellow filly.
The border collie wasted no time in scrambling out of the blankets, landing softly on the wooden ground with nary a sound but her paws landing on the wooden floorboards. The dog heard a small whimper and the softest calling of her name. She responded by licking at a protruding yellow hoof, rubbing her cheek against the filly’s hardened toe.
Once she saw the hoof retreat back into the warmth, and the slightest halts in the filly’s whimpering, the dog turned towards the sealed window with the slightest edges of a smile on her face. Short but thin legs carried the dog towards it as it stared up at the falling moon.
The twinkling stars in the clear skies slowly started to hide behind the coming colour of the solar icon, the slow orange embrace of dawn rising once more in the sky.
The dog’s mind wandered to years gone by, lost in the moon’s graceful descent.
The dog was laying next to a filly of the same size as her. This one was an orange, freckled pony, and she had her own soft, tender touch rubbing through the border collie’s rough brown fur.
Both of their gazes were locked on the skies as they watched the moon continue its slow descent into the horizon. The dog had an expression of wonder, while the orange filly had one of calm serenity.
The orange filly broke the silence with a stage whisper, “So, what’s yer name lil’ fella?”
The collie turned to the filly with raised ears as she landed a sloppy wet lick on her.
The filly giggled as she pushed back the dog with a firm hoof. “Simmer down, I have ta’ name ya’ don’t I?”
The collie tried for the filly’s face once more, stopped by the filly’s firm hoof. She settled for panting as she let her long tongue loll over her lips.
“Ah’ll take that for a yes then,” the filly chuckled, sporting a pensive look as her mind scrambled for ideas. “What about.. Brady?” She asked of the dog, receiving no change in demeanour, “Ah thought so. Try this on for size.. Buckaroo? Jackaroo?”
Before the dog could respond, the filly jumped on top of the dog. “Oh oh oh! Ah know!” She puffed out her chest, making a scene of it, “Winona!” It was stated as if the filly had solved world hunger, truly proud of her success.
The newly named Winona flipped the filly onto her back, laying sloppy wet doggy kisses all over the befreckled face of the filly, despite her complaints.
The dawn of a new day had arrived, and so had it awoken Winona’s masters. She knew that when the big bright thing came into the sky, the big red one and the nice orange one would come downstairs and start working.
And more importantly, Winona would get fed.
Sure enough, as soon as the dawn broke over the horizon, she heard the loud clomps of the big red one coming down the stairs. She started to bark happily, the thought of food already causing her to drool in anticipation.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs, her tail wagging as she continues to bark happily. She looked up at the towering form of the stallion as he levelled the small pup of a dog with a glare. The stallion’s green eyes were bloodshot with old tears, and heavy bags framed them like the shadow of an apple tree.
It was enough of a glare to cause the pup to whimper and curl up into a ball of terror.
Winona averted her gaze from the one known as Big Macintosh, not wanting to incite his anger any further. Instead, she waited until the other one woke up.
There was a small commotion going on in the kitchenette area as several pans and some crockery clattered to the floor, shattered clay pots spread across the wooden floor. Winona sprung to her paws as she darted over to the stallion to assist.
All she succeeded in doing was tripping the stallion over when he attempted to move forwards while the collie was in front of him. A loud crash and a small earthquake later, the stallion quickly got back to his hooves muttering extremities. He barely spared a look to the mess on the floor, or the dog nearly underneath him.
He stormed from the room and barreled through the front door, a large crack in the middle of it forming from the sheer force that the stallion exhibited in his haste.
Weak cries followed behind him, mainly those of the older green mare. None were more prominent than Winona’s barks, who took chase in a bid to stop him.
The olden mare looked to the yellow filly who had peeked out of the covers with a weak, comforting smile. “Go get r-ready, little squirt,” she struggled to say, her own weakness showing through her forced bravado.
Winona found the large stallion primed to buck some apples off of a tree. Apples already littered the ground, and there seemed to be large hoofmarks embedded in the tree. Splinters showered on the dry ground and the back of the stallion’s back legs. His eyes were closed as more tears threatened to break through.
“Damn it,” he muttered quietly, his head hung low. His teeth clenched as anger rode through his system. “Damn it all!” He shouted in a loud boom of a baritone, both of his legs rising into the air to slam into the thick trunk with a resounding thunk.
He turned on his hooves to pound his front hooves into the thick bark, restraining the urge to scream his lungs out. His eyes stung with the edge of tears that dropped with every blow to the tree. Determination and pure force came out in spades as the roots to the tree started to lift out of the ground. Leaves floated to the ground from the tender edges of the autumnal season.
Winona whimpered once again, bringing the large stallion to realise her appearance. The stallion stopped in his assault on the tree to turn to the pup with scowl heavily plastered on his face.
“Get outa here, Winona,” the lumbering giant hissed at the whimpering collie. “Go away ‘fore Ah do something Ah’ll regret.”
The border collie never moved, frozen in fear.
“Go annoy somepony else!” He commanded, his volume rising as he accosted the pup. “Go to ‘Bloom, or Granny Smith, or AJ, or-” He choked on his words, his throat closing and drying up.
He took a hoofstep towards the collie, seething with anger as he muttered “Go on. Git.”
Winona finally took the hint, her paws never stopping until the orchard ended.
The small dog hadn’t stopped running until the orchard ended and the open fields started. After a while, she had forgotten why she was running in the first place, but she was determined to get out, and quickly.
As she broke out of the orchard, she found herself in front of a familiar building. The distinct accent of the cows came from inside, and they spoke in a hushed whisper as Winona slowly made her way over, her legs aching from the sudden run, and her breaths coming out in short pants.
They seemed to speak in hushed voices, their words weightened by the dulcet sounds of sadness. Spotted white paws scratched at the door to the barn, the insatiable curiosity of the dog winning over its need for responsibility. Her paws gripped on a position that allowed her to see inside, her head resting on top of the smooth wood. The sight baffled her.
As soon as the bovines had seen the dog, their eyes refused to meet hers, some starting to leak some water from their eyes.
Even as she barked for their attention, the bovines continued to avert their eyes away from the ever-happy dog.
Sensing defeat, the dog turned to walk away, the small pitter-patter of her paws against the hardened floor the only sound to accompany the outside breeze.
As she retreated away from the barn, she heard voices in the distance. Her spirits revived anew, she bounded towards where her ears sensed the people were.
Behind her, the figures inside the barn started to speak once more.
“Is she aware...?”
“... No, I don’t think the poor dear is.”
The collie slowed down as she approached the house and the balcony she recalled so well. She noticed there was something undeniably off about the whole building. Instead of having an undeniable feeling of life about it, it seemed wilted, unresponsive and dead.
There was a slight amount of commotion surrounding the rear end of the house, and Winona spared no expense for waiting for the potential play time with a stranger. Usually, she could just roll onto her back in front of any friend and she’d be in playtime heaven for the next five minutes.
… But when she did the same to these ponies, they simply glared at her with bloodshot eyes and made a point of walking away. She suppressed a need to growl as she used her backup; a small whimper, amounting to not much more than a soft mewling of a kitty, and the trademark puppy eyes.
One turned to stop, his eyes full of concern, but the other two dragged him on. A little bit inside the dog broke as her ears fell flat against her head and her tail stopped wagging. She got back to her paws as she decided to move on, her head hung low.
Ponies started to arrive, walking in the direction that the three mean ponies had gone. but Winona didn’t care. She was too busy moping for attention, huddled underneath the shadow of the building she lived in.
She felt many eyes upon her, but none came to comfort her. She grew confused, starting to become wary all of the ponies that came.
She looked to the skies and the black clouds that were being put into place above them. It was going to rain soon.
She huddled there for a few minutes at the most, her eyesight locked on the ground as many ponies arrived, including some that she recognised. The purple one, the white one, even the yellow one that liked to spoil her rotten with dog treats. Although that raised her spirits slightly, it did nothing to raise her state of mind where everypony was ignoring her.
Her nose twitched. She’d been lost in her own musings for a while. Nobody else was passing her, and she could only just hear commotion from somewhere in the distance. Her nose twitched again, and she realised why. The rain was just starting to pick up, the few sprinkles that liked to warn those below her slowly dampening her coat.
She stood up on all fours. It was usually her job to warn the ponies that it was starting to rain so they could get back before they got soaked, so it was still her job to do so now. Her paws rapidly hit the ground as she sought out the large group of ponies that had gone past her.
As Winona ran, her mind wandered back to rainy days, and one memory in particular replayed in her mind. A memory from long ago that reminded the collie that not reminding ponies of the storm meant ponies wouldn’t play with her any more.
Around 5 years previous, the puppy had grown up to become a reliable hound, and had started to take on responsibilities. When the lunch bell would ring, she would bark and bark until the cows came home, all for that little treat she would get off the side of everypony’s dishes. The puppy eyes never failed.
One night though, the rain had started to pick up. There were mutters around the dinner table that something called the “Everfree” was acting up, and the weather had become sporadic. Almost every night there was heavy wind that threatened to cause the house to be ripped apart.
This night, though, the weather was at its worst, and the dog was barking its little head off. One of the family was missing, and nobody knew where she had gone.
There was a little foal of a baby in the corner, crying into an olden mare’s shoulder at the loud noises. A lanky stallion sat at the kitchen table, stabbing at a piece of apple with a fork. Two older looking ponies stood at the windows, trying to seek out anything in the growing wind and rain. One was very heavily built stallion that wore a brown stetson. The other, a mare, wore a bonnet that largely hid her greying mane.
They were arguing in hushed voices, trying to keep the others oblivious. The stallion stomped his hoof on the wooden floor and scowled. His eyes darted to the door, and his hooves carried him there with impressive speed.
The mare of the two called to the old one in the corner. “Keep Mackie and ‘Bloom here. Jackie is missing!”
She spared no expense in following in the stallion’s hoofsteps, the heavy wind slamming the door into the pup’s face as she tried to follow.
They spent a whole night waiting, not even the pup was sleeping after a whole day of activity. In fact, she kept on barking, yelping and yipping until the ole one would angrily tell her to stop. She only waited a few minutes before trying again.
The sun rose over the orchards, and the weather was at an acceptable level for them to venture back out. The small lanky stallion was on the ball, barging through the door in silent fury.
It took them hours of searching, but they eventually found the three ponies in one place, the grain mill that sat on top of the hill out in the grazing pasture. At first, it looked like it was just the two older ponies huddled into each other, but as you got closer the soft crying of a filly was heard coming from somewhere near them.
The two older ponies were huddled together, but in between the two was the missing filly, her only protection a large stetson that protected her from the rain. The stetson seemed entirely too large for the her, and almost entirely covered her body. The two older ponies were unmoving, a large bleeding wound coming from their heads where a small amount of blood was splattered against the grain mill.
The old one sheltered the colt’s eyes, and moved to block the foal’s line of sight, but Winona bounded forwards, ecstatic she’d found her lifetime friends.
She was severely disheartened when they didn’t play back.
She found the ponies huddled utop a large hill, once that seemed so unknown with the lack of grain mill there. They were all standing in a strangely orderly fashion, in several lines. Now that she was looking, the dog noticed that there were a few of the visitors that usually came around every once in a while for some big party.
Was this another big party? She hoped it was. She usually got showered with attention when that happened.
She approached closer and closer until she was stuck behind the large crowd of ponies. She ducked under the hooves of the crowd, causing surprise as a small ball of fur tickled at their legs.
As she reached the front, she spotted salvation. The familiar brown stetson hat. That hat never left the owner, so surely she was around somewhere. She started to bark for the owner’s attention, darting her head around as she bounded forwards the hat.
The owner was nowhere to be seen, the border collie started to realise as she spun around to look at the crowd. They all looked at her with a disgusted look of depression. All of them had bloodshot eyes, and most of them had tears to match.
She barked. They flinched.
She yelped. One of the crowd sniffed back the tears.
She whimpered. The yellow pegasus buried her head into the white mare next to her, the tears flowing like waterfalls.
The dog sniffed at the air as she caught the scent of her owner. Her nose lead her to the soft ground under her. She began to dig.
After a while, she realised there was a bright purple glow surrounding her being, lifting her into the air as the dirt under her refused to move.
She whimpered as she found herself eye to eye with purple eyes, highlighted by a glowing horn. The unicorn slowly shook her head as she lowered the collie to the floor, still using her magic to keep her in place.
An aged stallion spoke at the front. He was clad in black robes and a white collar.
“As I was saying…” He cleared his throat. “Here lies Applejack. Hard worker. Loving family member. Best friend. Element of Honesty. Recently deceased by the extreme weather of the Everfree, saving her loving sister in the process.” He paused once again. “It was a shame that she passed in the same way as her parents.”
A gurgle of sobs renewed itself somewhere to the dog’s left.
“She will be missed by all that knew her.” He raised his head high. “If you would please hold a moment of silence for our dearly departed.”
The sound of the rain overhead was the only sound that permeated the silence.
To Winona, the silence was torture. The magic that surrounded her stopped her from moving her mouth.
All she could focus on was the tombstone that she once stood in front of, where the stetson hat sat. It was expertly crafted, and the words shone as though an ethereal light surrounded it, despite the rain that darkened the outside light.
”Here lies Applejack
Element of Honesty
-16 Before Luna - to - 4 Celestial Diarchy.
The robed stallion nodded as he mumbled a soft “Okay. Please make your way to the Apple Family barn to get out from under the rain.”
Most of those present nodded and turned around, the soft squelching of their hooves in the now wet earth slowly quieting as they retreated.
Some stayed. Eight ponies. The collie watched as they all approached one at a time, each saying a few words before they stepped back.
Then they left.
All that was left was the dog.
Released from the devil-mare’s magic, she bounded forward and stared at the stetson.
She was stood there for hours.
The rain had even let up.
And then the day turned to night.
Ponies came to take her away, but she always returned to the stetson at the first opportunity.
Night turned to day again.
Weeks passed.
She was hungry.
She didn’t care.
She just wanted her owner back.
Author's Note
My first published story.
Even if you only took the time out of your day to read my works, thank you.
I welcome critique in any way, shape, or form, so go nuts in the comments telling me what I did wrong!
