The Old Castle

Chapters

Discovery
Breaks
Duties
Dashie Visits The Farrier

Discovery

It started with a very old book.

Twilight’s eyes glowed with a special delight, just looking at the old book. It wasn’t only its status as a precious artifact, tracked down in the basement of Celestia’s palace library: it was what it represented to Twilight’s studies.

She had become fascinated with the earth ponies during her stay in Ponyville, a fascination that was only inflamed further by her struggles with the Winter Wrap-up. They’d seemed so anchored and confident in their ways, even as she’d caused havoc trying to secretly use her magic—and saw it go terribly wrong. She cringed a bit, remembering that day, yet even then they’d been unshaken by the mess she’d made. They had forgiven her, and still let her be one of them and use her own non-magical strengths alongside them. It felt like… family.

Twilight remembered Canterlot, and it hadn’t felt like family at all. She’d tried so hard to be the best magic-wielder there, driven on by the loneliness as others teased her for being such a solitary, bookish type. It had always seemed that they didn’t want her to belong, that she had to fight to earn their respect before she’d be tolerated—her closeness to Princess Celestia didn’t seem to help, and probably made matters worse.

In Ponyville, they didn’t seem to mind that she was Celestia’s best student. They seemed to be warmed by it, as if it simply made her a better, happier friend, rather than some rival. They hadn’t taken well to another outsider, Trixie, but her they loved unhesitatingly—including the earth ponies, who couldn’t possibly compete with either her or Trixie in magical feats.

Twilight had to understand why, and her studies had led to this ancient history book.

She hadn’t discussed it with others, even Princess Celestia, but she’d been forming a theory that the earth ponies held a special quality due to their heritage. It had to do with a scientific concept called mutation, and a field of study called genetics. Twilight thought it was possible that earth ponies had come first, thousands of years ago, and that unicorns like herself and pegasi like Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy arose from mutation. There had been something about how favorable mutations lay dormant until there was enough genetic support for them to plateau into a new form: the genetic possibilities wouldn’t show until the plateau was reachable, and then suddenly it would be everywhere, a new pony form that bred true.

She wasn’t sure if she felt like a mutation—on some days, it was easy to believe her heritage was a bizarre detour that she had to cope with the best she could. But, she did suspect the earth ponies felt like they were the fundamental bedrock of ponykind. Their love was unshakable, their role unquestioned, and it seemed like nobody ever questioned their place in the world: a world where ponies could fly, ponies could do magic, and then other ponies did none of these things and were unashamed.

Twilight’s ear flicked briefly as she considered that, if she didn’t have her magic and her studies, she would be ashamed. Why didn’t she have this basic faith and certainty?

Well… perhaps if it turned out that the earth ponies had come first, she could discover how it happened. And, thought Twilight, if she found a way to demonstrate that their roots were literal and real, perhaps some of that belonging might rub off on her as well.

As Twilight bent over her old book, studying, it never occurred to her that her relentless speculating wouldn’t thrill them at all—but the knowledge that their Twilight Sparkle was being herself just as hard as possible, would.

“Twilight!” called Spike.

“Erh!” huffed Twilight, squeezing her eyes shut in pique. “What is it? I was thinking!”

“Twilight, it’s getting late, and you were going to do laundry…”

“Ponies don’t wear clothes,” replied Twilight, levelly.

Spike appeared, preceded by an almost physical wave of smell, carrying a rumpled mass of cloth. “I know that, but we both sleep in beds, and you usually wash the blankets and stuff sooner than this. Are you thinking really hard for a change?”

Twilight recoiled. “Gah! I see what you mean. I must be, if you’re the one who’s noticed our laundry first! Thanks, Spike!”

“Don’t mention it—just one of my many great qualities—what are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about the earth ponies! I need to figure out why they’re so special.”

“They’re not,” said Spike. “You have much better magic than them! Now that I’ve saved you a whole lot of work, could you…”

“They are! There’s something about them, and I’ve got to work out what. Don’t be that way, Spike. We’re not in Canterlot anymore! I’m glad you reminded me, though, because I need to do a little shopping.”

“For books?” said Spike hopefully.

“I’m not finished with this one y… wait a minute. What do you want with books, all of a sudden?”

“At the bookstore?” added Spike. “The one that’s right next to…”

Twilight gave him a look. “The Carousel Boutique. I’m on to you. It’s not really ‘right next to’, Spike. You just want to stop by, for obvious reasons.”

Spike was undaunted. “Rarity usually lets me have a gemstone or two. You’ve gotta help me out here. You’re so stingy with ‘em! I need sustenance!”

“You’ll get pudgy,” said Twilight.

“I’m growing faint. I won’t be able to carry all the stuff you need me to carry.”

Spike was already carrying a vast heap of malodorous bedsheets. Twilight considered the point. “All right! It’s against my better judgement. Spike, take a note—laundry, timothy hay, look for books on prehistoric earth ponies.”

“Pre-hi-whaaa? Augh!” went Spike, followed by a very soft and fluffy crash, as he fell over beneath the armfuls of blankets.

Once they’d dropped off the laundry, conversation was a lot easier, particularly as the market offered delivery for hay bales over a certain size. Spike would be unencumbered until the bookstore stop, where he gloomily predicted struggling home under another stack of books taller than he was. Twilight ignored his griping, for she’d spotted a friend.

“Rainbow Dash! Hi!”

“Oh, hi, Twilight! Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m just out shopping. What about you?”

“Ditto!” replied the blue pegasus. “I needed another bale of hay delivered.”

Twilight Sparkle blinked. “Now wait a minute. This is an earth pony market. I’m having mine delivered, but I live in a tree house. You live on a cloud, Rainbow Dash. How exactly do you expect me to believe…”

She was interrupted by a truly titanic boinging sound, and Twilight’s jaw dropped as she watched a bale of hay rocket off into the sky, bound south-UP.

“I keep forgetting you’re new around here!” said Rainbow Dash. “What else are ya doing? I’ve been training for flexibility, so I can sprint better on the ground. If your sacral joints aren’t limber you can’t curl your pelvis under in a gallop properly. It’s an equine sit-up, really hard! I’ve learned to do it myself though usually you have to have someone tickling you where your dock line crosses the dimples of your butt muscles…”

Twilight rolled her eyes at the beginning of yet another Dash monologue. “Uh, that’s nice, but I’m not sure I’ve even got those…”

“Sure ya do! You’re actually in great shape for an egghead booky type! Maybe a little more rounded than you need to be…”

“I ordered ALL timothy hay today!” protested Twilight. “No alfalfa this time!”

“And how much is left over from last week? That’s really more of a training diet, Twilight, and forgive me, but I just don’t see you exercising as much as you could be.”

Twilight cast around for a change of subject, because she didn’t have a good answer—she’d eaten an awful lot of the alfalfa, and there was still plenty left, and it wasn’t Dash’s business what she snacked on. “Oh! Speaking of exercise…”

Applejack was approaching. “Hi… girls…” she panted. “Can’t… stay an’… talk…”

The country pony had good reason to be breathless. In her saddlebags were countless baskets, and balanced on top of those and her sturdy back was a high, teetering stack of heavy wooden buckets. She’d apparently bought them in bulk—and, rather than make several trips home, had decided to have the entire order stacked up on top of her for one trip. Mare muscle rippled as Applejack took determined steps toward her home, and it was easy to see how she’d kicked the top off the bell-ringing machine in the Iron Pony competition.

“I’ll say…” breathed Rainbow Dash, whose eyes were curiously wide.

“Y’all will have to say later, then,” panted Applejack, “‘cause I… whooaaa!”

The stack of heavy buckets wobbled, and she tried to sidestep to balance them, but didn’t quite make it. Earth pony and burden toppled, and Twilight and Dash scrambled to catch her, and succeeded, barely.

“Whew! I jes’ may have made it a mite challengin’ for myself… I think I got it, thank y’all… Twilight, you just push that upright a little bit more, y’hear? I should be good…”

Twilight, standing on her rear hooves and shoving at the toppling stack, struggled to comply. She glanced down, wondering why she was doing that single-hoofedly—and blinked, because Rainbow Dash wasn’t helping with the buckets. She was hanging on to Applejack’s butt, which seemed no longer necessary now that the earth pony had regained her balance. Twilight giggled, wrinkling her nose cutely. “Dash, you’re holding the wrong part!”

“No harm in that,” began Applejack hastily, but Dash had already sprung free. “Oh—yeah! What was I thinking! Bleah! Thanks for the warning, Twilight! Ew!”

“What?”

Dash blew a raspberry, and flew off, the dumbfounded Twilight Sparkle staring after her.

“What was THAT about?” she said, turning to Applejack, but suddenly wanted to take the remark back, because the earth pony looked terribly hurt and angry.

“Nothin’ o’ consequence. No concern o’ yours. Some ponies!”

“It looks like those buckets are very heavy. Do you want me to help with them?”

Applejack set her jaw. “You done enough, missy. I will just be on my way.” Her eyes glistened, but she refused to speak another word—just set off, step by step, not letting the buckets waver an inch this time. Twilight could tell she was in one of those Applejack moods, and stood helplessly, knowing there was no point in following.

“Are we going to stand around or are we going to visit Rarity?” said Spike. “You’re going to have me carry even more books than that, and I’d kinda like to get it over with.”

“Uh, sure, Spike,” said Twilight. “I think I’d like to talk to Rarity, too, now.”

At the Carousel Boutique, Rarity did indeed have a few stray gems for Spike—Twilight spotted that she had a small jar just for the purpose. She also spotted the faded label, that Spike possibly hadn’t noticed, that read “Defective—Do Not Use”, and had been crossed out and relabeled “Give To Friends (Conceal blemishes with cunning affixment)”, and crossed out again and labeled “Hungry Cute Little Monster (not Sweetie Belle)”. The fashion unicorn was indeed organized.

“What do you mean, dear? Rainbow Dash is always rude. You don’t mind it? I fear there’s no changing her. You must look past that.”

“No, no… I get that,” said Twilight, “it’s the rest of it that doesn’t make sense. I’ve learned so much about having friends here, Rarity. I don’t like it when they get weird on me.”

“Hardly weird, dear,” sniffed Rarity.

“Okay… strange? Unexpected. Applejack is so predictable, and now this? And what was going on with Rainbow Dash that she had to rush off that way? And why give me a raspberry when I didn’t mean any harm? Applejack even said, no harm in it, but all of a sudden, Rainbow Dash was all huffy! What gives? Do I need to apologize to somebody? Are they going to be jerks for the next week, now? Help me out, please!”

Rarity looked serious. “I’m not sure I should gossip—in fact, surely not. We’ve only speculation and you know it. I suspect they have only speculation, as well… though, after Gummy’s birthday party, and the bobbing for apples, I am sure it’s terrible for them, if so…”

“Not following you,” said Twilight. “I bobbed for apples too. It didn’t make me crazy, or rude.”

Rarity smiled. “Of course not. You are unfailingly charming.”

“No, she’s not,” remarked Spike, around a mouthful of emerald.

Rarity lifted an eyebrow, halting further comment from him. “I was going to add that she also knows her own mind. I can recognize that, dear, because I share that quality. I’ll just say, as my absolutely final word on the subject, that some ponies know their own mind, and some do not! Do try and be charitable. Being cross with them helps nobody.”

“But…” protested Twilight, for the other unicorn had been so vague as to confuse her more. Had she meant that Dash didn’t know she was being rude? But what would anger her so much as to blow raspberries within ten seconds of an insult? And what was so insulting in the first place?

‘Uht! It was my final word! I shan’t gossip, off with you! I’ve got three dresses to finish today, and cannot be idly chatting, honestly!”

Twilight had pondered this, but it remained stubbornly outside her experience, and her mind was too distracted. It seemed to add to the mystery of the earth ponies—she couldn’t forget Applejack trudging away under her heavy burden, seemingly filled with woe, yet undaunted. There was a resoluteness to her that seemed beyond simply carrying heavy buckets home—and a burden that seemed greater than the weight of the buckets.

Twilight was resolute, too—in her own way.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here tonight,” she said.

“You had cookies!” replied Pinkie Pie, brightly.

“No, that would be how I gathered you…”

“Cookies are a why and a how, both! Duh!”

“Pinkie! I’m trying to get to a point!” snapped Twilight.

“Oh. Okee dokie! Go ahead!”

Twilight glanced from the pink pony, to the attentive white unicorn and yellow pegasus, to the ones she’d really been thinking about. She didn’t dare say it directly, but she’d hoped involving Applejack and Rainbow Dash in a project would work to mend their friendship, so she’d manufactured a reason around her new studies, to bring them together.

It was most exasperating that no such reason seemed necessary. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were sitting together—at a slightly greater distance than usual. They seemed fine, except that Dash appeared uncomfortable, her wings tightly by her sides, and Applejack looked very tired—or as if she’d been crying.

“My point is,” said Twilight, “I need all your help. My studies suggest that the earth pony may be the fundamental root of ponykind—with unicorns and pegasi alike springing from that one strong root. I want to learn more about this, and my books are no use: we’re talking about history that predates even the pre-classical period here. I need to find or make an archaeological dig, and discover for myself…”

“Archaeo-what-now?” said Applejack. Dash glanced at her quickly, but didn’t speak.

“I need to find really old stuff,” explained Twilight, with slightly slower diction than necessary.

“Got it!” replied Applejack, undaunted. Dash narrowed her eyes at Twilight slightly, still without a response—but Pinkie Pie glanced at her, and blinked.

“What’s the matter, Dashie? It sounds like fun! Maybe we can find some dinosaurs! RAARRRRRR! I’m a tyrannosaurus rox!”

“I think you mean Rex,” said Twilight, who felt control of the meeting slipping away.

“No, I saw pictures of one. It definitely rox!”

“Darling,” said Rarity, chidingly. “Digging? Really? You wish us to be labourers? Surely you’ve more than enough magical ability to handle the digging on your own?”

“No! I mean… sure, maybe I would, but that’s not what I’m asking you to do for me!”

“Then what is?” said Dash, losing what little patience she had.

Twilight had the attention of all, suddenly, and she rushed into her explanation.

“I want to know, from all of you, if you’ve ever heard of any places that would teach me the ancient history of ponies. I’m not from around here, and even in Canterlot I didn’t devote my attention to history, and the history I did learn was tedious stuff about royalty, strange creatures, strange creatures who were also royalty… but nobody ever talked about this, and now I can’t stop thinking about it. I came here and I felt connected for the first time in my life, and I’ve got to find the root of that connection. I… I feel like it’s a part of me, too, now that I’m here…”

The gathered ponies stared at her for a moment of silence. Just a moment.

“We’ll do it!” cried Pinkie Pie, her eyes flashing with conviction.

Twilight’s heart leapt. “Oh, Pinkie! You know? You know where to look?”

Pinkie batted her eyelashes.

“Nope!” she said, and Twilight sagged dejectedly, head in her hooves. Dealing with the full crew of ponies was always difficult, but it was Pinkie who drove her to distraction every time.

“Now hold on there, sugarcube. Don’t give up too quick!” said Applejack. “Pinkie, do ya mean that we will help her? That you will help?”

“Sure!” chirped the pink pony. “Won’t you?”

“Well of course I will! Come on, Twilight, don’t mope, help us out! We don’t rightly know what you’d have us look for. What exactly do you mean?”

“I’m hoping there’s something historical I can look into,” said Twilight. “Even pre-historical. I’d like to find fossil remains, if at all possible.”

“I saw them play in Fillydelphia!” said Pinkie. “They came out and said, hello, Trottingham, and nobody went hooray!” She batted her eyelashes.

Twilight sighed. “Did anybody understand what I meant, or should I start over?”

Fluttershy spoke, for the first time. “I think I understood…”

“I totally understood!” said Rainbow Dash. “And it’s your lucky day, Twilight, because I am just the mare to help you. I can take you to exactly the kind of place you mean.”

Twilight’s heart leapt again. Dash seemed like the old Dash once more—beside her, Applejack perked up, noticing the cerulean pony’s enthusiasm. Rainbow Dash’s wings lifted and unfolded—then brushed Applejack lightly, and clapped to her sides again. Applejack looked stricken, but Rainbow Dash was already into her story,

“Way far off in the Everfree Forest, there’s an old, old castle, one that’s been abandoned for so long that nobody remembers what lurks within its creepy confines…”

Outside, the wind rose, whispering past the cozy windows of Twilight’s home.

In the Everfree Forest, a storm was looming. The trees swayed over six small figures, trotting determinedly along what was barely a path.

“Why do we have to do this?” protested Fluttershy, her eyes wide and flicking this way and that to catch every imagined shadow in the trees.

“Because we’re helping Twilight, and because it’s awesome! And you should get to have awesome too!” said Rainbow Dash, in the lead.

Applejack looked warily at Dash, and fell back, to reassure the timid pegasus yet again.

“Aw, Fluttershy. She promised it was safe. Don’t you worry.”

“The Everfree Forest is not SAFE,” said Fluttershy. “You know that.”

“But it’s exciting!” said Pinkie Pie. “Don’t be frightened! We’re here for you!”

“That’s right!” said Twilight, closely following Rainbow Dash. “Together, we can go anywhere! And Rainbow Dash did say it was historical, which should be fascinating.”

“Nah. I said it was hysterical! All those walls falling over, it’s a riot! Talk about a funky old castle!”

Pinkie giggled in expectant delight. Fluttershy froze in her tracks. “Falling… over?”

“Don’t you fret,” said Applejack, with a glance ahead at Rainbow Dash. “We won’t let nothin’ dangerous happen to you.”

“Certainly not!” sniffed Rarity, picking her way around patches of mud and dirt. “Have you forgotten the presence of not one, but two sources of unicorn magic? Please!”

Twilight didn’t comment further. She’d gone along with the idea, because it seemed to be bringing Rainbow Dash out of her withdrawn state, and because it seemed to cheer Applejack somehow just to be part of the expedition—but she had some concerns, nevertheless. It felt as if she’d overstepped herself on several levels at once, and her thoughts were busy.

The Everfree Forest certainly didn’t feel safe, and, strangely, neither did Dash and Applejack. The cerulean pegasus had blustered even more than usual, but Twilight was sure she’d seen a second occasion where Rainbow Dash’s wing had brushed Applejack’s body—and snapped shut to her side. Dash seemed to be more boastful than ever, but would not look at her earth pony friend, and Applejack looked at nothing with a woeful expression, when she wasn’t rallying around and helping every pony, but Dash. The empty space in their usual behavior hung in the air. Twilight was sure she’d seen Rarity directing meaningful glances her direction, but was completely confused as to their purpose. Was she supposed to do something? The two were behaving so normally—except toward each other—and both acted with such conviction, that Twilight didn’t dare inquire.

Fluttershy didn’t want to move. She’d never been comfortable in the Everfree Forest, although she lived at its very edge. Her eyes were panicky, but with Applejack nudging her, she began to hesitantly walk again, and then trotted forward to stick close to Rarity to the point of pressing flanks with her, an intimacy the elegant unicorn rolled her eyes at, but gracefully tolerated. Applejack took the other side, comforting the shy pegasus with the near presence of two staunch friends, and the six went on.

By the time they reached the old castle, the sky was a foreboding shade of gray, seen all the more clearly as the trees gave way to a blasted peak upon which the castle had been built. Grim weathered rock towered into the sky before them, and wind howled around the creaking parapets. They regarded it with varying degrees of trepidation and admiration.

“Pretty cool, huh?” said Rainbow Dash. “You can’t say I don’t know the most exciting places!”

Rarity walked back and forth, taking in different angles, standing to frame it with forehooves. “My. Primitive, but there IS a frisson to it, isn’t there? I must say, the angles and contours are breathtaking! It’s giving me ideas for designs…”

“It’s bobbledy towers!” laughed Pinkie, bouncing in place. “They’re dancing too!”

Twilight blinked. “I… I think this might be what I was looking for! I don’t see any tool-marks anywhere, and none of the individual stones seem too heavy for an earth pony to lift. This is loose field stone, crafted into a building that has stood for… centuries! It may pre-date unicorns coming to this area!”

“So, is that cool or what?” said Rainbow Dash.

“Cool? It’s cold out here…” said Fluttershy, eyes nervous again.

“Easily fixed!” said Rainbow Dash. “You see one gate, right before your awaiting eyes. Last one in’s a rotten egg!”

There was indeed one gate, a tall arch, leading into the castle, and the excited ponies trotted in—with the exception of Fluttershy, who hesitated, only to be joined by Applejack.

“Y’all stop worryin’, you hear? Catch yer death of cold out here. You come in out of the wind. We’ll keep you safe.”

Fluttershy followed Applejack inside, hesitating only to give a fearful glance at the darkening sky, which had gone so overcast that no individual clouds could be seen, much less the setting sun.

Inside, the ponies were scattered, peering about at all the things the castle held. It was more of a keep, four stout walls that also contained covered rooms, around a central courtyard open to the sky, across which the wind howled with increasing stridency. Fluttershy stepped nervously about, trembling in her nervousness, but the others weren’t as cautious. Rainbow Dash jumped about, from ground to stone ledge to parapet, tossed off by a gust of wind and flitting back to rejoin the others, her eyes sparkling with glee. Twilight turned over a few rocks, and then looked up, startled, at a creaking sound. Rarity had discovered the weathered doors in the outer wall, and her horn flared brightly as she wrested the doors open with her magic. Before Twilight could object, the darkness within revealed unexpected flashes of color, no longer sealed from the elements.

Rarity’s eyes were riveted to her discoveries. “Darlings! TAPESTRIES! Rainbow Dash, how could you? You didn’t tell me there were priceless artworks here!”

Twilight ran to look closer. “You’re right, Rarity! Some of these rooms have caved in, but this is an incredible find!”

They trotted into the darkened space, first Rarity, then Twilight, and then Rainbow Dash, almost shoving past the other two. Applejack joined them, but held back, apparently not wishing to touch the excited pegasus’s outstretched wing, perhaps for fear it would clap shut yet again. Her expression wore a puzzling combination of annoyance and woe, and her jaw was set, as if to say ‘Fine, if that’s the way you want it—I won’t even argue!’ There wasn’t room for anyone else.

In the gloom, they looked upon a visual story that raised as many questions as it answered.

The images spoke out of the unthinkably distant past, directly to Twilight’s thoughts. First, earth ponies—crudely represented in coarse stitching, against the rough canvas backdrop. And then—something new. Wings, horns, and the ponies bearing them were downcast, figures forlorn in spite of other figures comforting them. Twilight’s heart caught in her throat, as the postures spoke to her in such familiar ways, of differentness, and worry that she would not be accepted. It seemed so true.

And then, further down, in the vertical progression that had become central to pony scrolls and artworks ever since—something new. The comforting figures had persisted, but clearly there was more to it than that. A unicorn form struggled, body low, horn manifesting a glimmer in silver thread, and an earth pony stroked the unicorn’s neck with one forehoof, while the other reached out to a small stone… which had been embroidered slightly off the ground, radial lines in silver outlining it. Another earth pony watched, beaming. After that—an embroidered, tapestry hug for the exhausted, proud unicorn.

And beside it, another sequence, this one using two ponies. A smaller pegasus, cowering before the edge of a cliff. An earth pony, caressing the wings of the pegasus, exhorting, reassuring. Odd that you didn’t see this wing-touching in daily life, thought Twilight. And then, the leap—and, flight, birthright and pride of pegasi. But had this ability been inborn, or learned, or some combination of the two?

A noise startled Twilight, and she glanced to her side.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes were wide and alarmed, and she was biting her lip, staring at that wing-touching image. The noise she’d made was hard to interpret, but something was wrong—she’d gone red, and tense, and the next thing Twilight knew, Dash had rushed from the room, her own wings tightly clamped to her sides. Her voice rang out with a strange mix of bravado and terror. “You can go in now, Fluttershy, I’m done!”

In came Fluttershy, who looked up fearfully at the stone ceiling, and then gasped at the tapestries. “Oh, my! It’s beautiful! And, um… daring!”

“What? What’s that about?” said Twilight. “I can see the beautiful part. Do you think this is how unicorns and pegasi happened?”

“Oh, it must be! It explains so much. I’d like to think this was what happened, because it makes me happy to look at it.”

Twilight nodded. “I can’t wait to tell Princess Celestia about this!”

“Tell her?” scoffed Rarity. “SHOW her! You must help me get these loose. We’ll take them home and magically preserve them. They’ll be the prize of my collection!”

The wind rose, ominously, reaching through the opened door and stirring the fabric. The images danced, as if still a little alive.

“Um…” said Fluttershy. “What if… there’s some creature here that doesn’t want you stealing its tapestries?”

“I don’t see any sign of a creature here. That was just the wind,” said Twilight.

“And we are NOT ‘stealing’,” said Rarity. “This is a historic dig, not to say disaster area. We MUST preserve these priceless artifacts lest they be lost to the elements and ravages of Time!”

“They’ve been all right so far,” pointed out Fluttershy, but Rarity wasn’t having any of it. “But how can we be sure of that? We’ve opened the room, and exposed these treasures to the ravages of the elements…”

“You did that,” said Fluttershy.

Rarity bridled. “That is as may be, darling. My point remains. Now that we have broached their sanctum, it is our right—nay, our obligation—to preserve these pieces of history for posterity!”

Fluttershy looked worried. “You’re not going to… make them into d..?” and then backed down without even finishing the word, at a withering glance from the elegant white unicorn.

“I shall pretend you hadn’t said that.”

“Me too…” said Fluttershy, in a very small voice.

They made their way back outside, into the increasingly gusty courtyard, and Twilight called, “Pinkie Pie? Do you want to see the tapestries?”

“What for?” replied the pink pony, hiding behind a stone column and jumping out playfully to startle Dash, who fluttered up out of reach but was tossed to the side by another burst of wind. “I’m playing with Dashie.”

“Because they’re of great historical importance!” said Twilight. “We’re going to come back for them, now that we know where to look. Don’t you want to see them? They’re very pretty.”

“Yeah, but they just sit there. Don’t they? This is more fun.”

“All righty, then!” said Twilight, in some disbelief. “Maybe it’s time we were getting home. It’s a lot darker than it was, and the weather isn’t exactly reassuring.”

“Yeah, the wind is kinda getting lively, isn’t it?” said Rainbow Dash. “I’ll have a look. Be back in a jiffy.” She flew straight up out of the courtyard—and zipped straight off to the side, immediately. The ponies watched, wide-eyed, and a moment later, Rainbow Dash could be seen coming back into sight, but it was as if she was trying to Rainboom while flying in place. She flapped frantically and then dropped down into the relative calm of the courtyard.

“Hey, guys, it’s a good thing we’re in a safe place! There’s an incredible storm coming!”

“There is?” said Twilight Sparkle. “Thank you, Rainbow, for finding that out for us! Do we have time to get back home before it hits? When do you think it will arrive?”

Rainbow Dash looked thoughtful. “Right… about….”

The world exploded in wind and snow, battering the parapets and covering the hapless ponies in cold whiteness.

“Now,” added Rainbow Dash, helpfully.

Fluttershy shrieked—and then Rarity, but her dismay was more for her new discoveries. The white unicorn tried to block the open doorway to the precious tapestries with her body, but it was no use. Snow went everywhere, blanketing the courtyard, and the wind yowled and shook the very castle stones.

Applejack stood over the cowering Fluttershy. She glanced at Twilight, who was dumbfounded and staring up at the snow-choked sky. “Don’t worry, Twi! We got this! Uhh… Dash! You got a plan?”

“You bet I do!” cried Rainbow Dash, looking at Applejack for the first time in hours, her eyes too wide, her voice ringing with the desire to impress. “I can fix this! I’ll just… uhhh…”

“Y’all get this under control! Come on!”

“I… It’s the Everfree Forest. Weather doesn’t answer to pegasi here.” Dash’s bravado had collapsed all at once, and she looked ready to cry, like her one big chance to redeem herself had fallen apart.

Applejack stared in horror at her. “Well, what’ll we do?”

Twilight Sparkle ran up. “We need to take cover, and wait it out! Rainbow Dash, can you and Fluttershy fly to safety?”

Rainbow Dash shook the snow off her wings. “Well, I can barely handle it—I mean, I can totally handle it, but look at Fluttershy! She’s just not as strong a flier. There is no way she can go up in that!”

Fluttershy looked up, trembling, from beneath Applejack, who looked Dash right in the eye and said “You git home then, right now. We’ll handle this, you get to safety!”

Rainbow Dash’s chin rose, and her eyes flashed. “Yeah, not gonna happen. Sorry! I’m not going to abandon you. We’ll ALL get to safety or none of us!”

“Now, you listen to me, Rainbow Dash,” continued Applejack. “You go home! We’ll take care of this. I insist that you protect yourself, missy! You git to a safe place or I will kick your recalcitrant rump to a safe place for you, y’hear?” Her voice was desperate, and she glanced at the sky anxiously, as if it was about to break out in thunderstorms.

“No way. No! Way! I’m going to rescue you whether you like it or not! I’m going to lead you to safety!” Dash blew a raspberry at Applejack, who kicked at the ground in frustration.

“You can’t even see anything!” protested Rarity. “The snow is so bad, we’ll be lost! We won’t know where we’re going!”

“Yes, we will,” said Twilight Sparkle, as her horn glowed. “We have two unicorns. Rarity, you and me will magically find the way!”

“Or we could… hide?” suggested Fluttershy, looking at one of the enclosed rooms within the walls—and then, she shrieked, looking up.

The ponies had gathered near the open entrance arch, and they followed Fluttershy’s gaze to see first one falling rock, then another, and then an avalanche of heavy stone coming at them. Rarity and Twilight leapt out of the way. Fluttershy, screaming in high-pitched terror, couldn’t move, and Applejack braced her hooves and screwed her eyes shut, shielding the gentle pegasus against the danger…

Applejack’s eyes popped open, then Fluttershy’s. A massive pile of rock sat right next to them, plus a scrap-heap of heavy iron bars, and not a pebble had landed on them.

“Yeah…” said Rainbow Dash, “taking cover? NOT so much.”

“We have to get out!” cried Rarity. “We’re trapped!”

“Over here!” called Applejack, who’d galloped over to another wall. “This thing!”

‘This thing’ proved to be a formidable iron portcullis, built into another gate they hadn’t seen. A rope stretched out across the ground to a series of pulleys, a rope that had clearly served to raise the thing once, but had broken long ago.

Twilight Sparkle boggled at it, and began to mutter, “Well, clearly not as prehistoric as I thought then, because of the entirely anachronistic technology, but it would still almost certainly predate unicorn… unless this place served as a sort of library, preserving the earliest…”

“Twilight!” yelled Applejack. “Stop eggheadin’ and come help!”

“I got this!” said Rainbow Dash, and gathered the ponies together. “Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen! We’re gonna go in two teams…”

“One for each unicorn to find the way magically!” said Twilight Sparkle, getting back up to speed and prancing in a circle with her excitement. This adventure had turned more adventurous than she’d ever imagined.

“Exactly! One unicorn, one strong pony, and one… uh, whatever Pinkie is.”

Pinkie Pie jumped up and down. “Go, Rainbow Dash! Wooooo!”

“Applejack!” said Rainbow Dash.

“Yeah!” replied Applejack instantly, perking up in direct connection to Dash’s confidence. She hung on Dash’s words, her eyes shining.

“You take Fluttershy and Rarity. I’ll take Twilight and Pinkie. The snow’s so bad, in a group of six we wouldn’t be able to see each other anyway. We get out of this, and we go home! We’ll have fun here another day!”

“Let’s do this!” said Pinkie Pie.

“Applejack, help me with this rope!” said Rainbow Dash.

“I’m on it!” whooped Applejack, and seized the end of the rope in her teeth, hauling for all she was worth. Rainbow Dash pitched in, first flapping frantically, and then setting her hooves down to haul while braced against solid ground—and slowly, the heavy iron portcullis began to lift. It rose with immense reluctance, and revealed a row of evil-looking spikes along its bottom edge, and it rose higher and higher, the two ponies working together in unison, until the whole gate was opened, wind howling through it and dumping gouts of snow within the forced portal.

“Okay, through there!” said Rainbow Dash. “AJ, can you hold it?”

“I think so…” said Applejack, between her tightly clamped teeth. “Dashie, you go now!” Twilight blinked. Dashie? Where’d that come from? Hadn’t Applejack been angry with Dash—or something?

“Oh, hurry, Fluttershy!” sobbed Rarity, distressed beyond sensibility.

“Weeee!” said Pinkie, “It’s an adventure!”

Twilight boggled at her. “Sheesh! Just get to my house! …I’ll make cocoa?”

“Good thinking, Twilight!” said Rainbow Dash. Rarity and Fluttershy had already fled, the magic of Rarity’s horn soon lost to the white of the snowstorm. “Alright—go go go! Don’t stop until you’re safe at home!”

Rainbow Dash took up the rear, urging Pinkie and Twilight under the portcullis, Twilight taking the lead and her purple magic gleaming through the blinding snowfall. Pinkie followed, still bouncing, visions of cocoa glowing in her head. Rainbow Dash looked around, saw that the two ponies she’d taken responsibility for were beginning to be lost to sight, sprinted for the gate…

…and fell, directly under the heavy, spiked portcullis, and lay there, unmoving.

Applejack’s eyes widened in horror. “Dash!” she yelled, without letting go of the rope.

A Rainbow Dash-shaped little pile of snow formed before her horrified gaze, but she couldn’t go and see—without releasing the heavy iron gate, which would surely drop before she could possibly move her friend. She might have been able to clear it on a straight sprint, or so she thought—it had seemed like an obvious answer, and nobody had taken the time to question how she’d get out—but to stop and move somebody, while the spikes plunged down onto you?

Outside, the wind shrieked and howled, and the little mound of snow revealed a nose-hole—which then revealed Rainbow Dash’s little face. She didn’t look up at the portcullis, for all her attention was on the blizzard, within which she could just barely see the faintest hint of Twilight’s direction-finding magic, and she thought, “I’m… last? They’ve all gone without me! AJ left me here! Oh, no!” Panic and shame filled her.

Finding that she was pinned down by snow, Rainbow Dash tucked her wings close to her, pressed low, and squeezed out through the nose-hole without disturbing the snow pile, rushing after Twilight and Pinkie—who, like Rarity and Fluttershy, had fled into the storm in a desperate attempt to get to safety. She was lost to sight immediately, as she rejoined them.

Inside the castle, Applejack strained to hold the portcullis up, her teeth gritting on the rope, her legs trembling and locked into rigid positions to brace her against the horrible weight. It hurt, and it was getting worse. Her eyes screwed shut with the strain, and then she opened them to look, and the shape still hadn’t moved.

“Dash!” she pleaded.

The silent mound of snow, complete with little wing-crests, didn’t answer.

“Rainbow Dash, move! You’ll be crushed!” begged Applejack.

No answer. No answer. The little body, that she hadn’t so much as touched or dared to gaze at the whole day, lay there helplessly, and the rope she held was the only thing that stood in the way of its horrifying fate, beneath falling iron spikes.

“I CAN’T HOLD THIS FOREVER!” screamed Applejack through her gritted teeth, her legs shaking.

The pitiful little mound of snow didn’t move.

Applejack’s voice cracked. “Dashie!” she sobbed, as she felt her agonized body threaten to give way.

Nothing.

Second after second ticked by, Applejack’s legs trembling with the impossible strain. The cold bit into her, and her horrified eyes couldn’t look away from the little mound of snow, directly under the terrible spikes of the portcullis.

The earth pony’s weeping eyes slowly transformed away from her look of horror and grief, to grim, still tearful lines of determination.

“…th’ HELL I can’t…”

The cold bit deeper.

Darkness, eventually… fell.

The day was bright at Twilight Sparkle’s house as Rarity and Fluttershy arrived, none the worse for wear.

“She got you home!” said Rainbow Dash. “I don’t blame her for sleeping in. That was awesome!” Her tone was determinedly light, though she looked around anxiously. Had Applejack thought so little of her performance that she wouldn’t come around for breakfast and company?

“I agree!” said Rarity. “She held the door wonderfully!”

“She did get you home, right?” said Rainbow Dash. “Like I got Twi and Pinkie home? And got rewarded with cocoa, which of course I totally deserved?”

Fluttershy spoke up. “Me and Rarity escaped together and went to her house. It was so frightening! Um—not Rarity’s house, that is. The storm. Didn’t Applejack go straight home?”

Dash glared at her. “She was with you! It was her job to get you two home safely!”

Rarity bridled at this. “Well! Darling, we got home safely through that hideous storm, with no help from her, I’ll have you know.”

“Except the door, Rarity,” said Fluttershy, “she did hold the door.”

“True,” said Rarity. “I could have used my magic, but I was so flustered! We simply had to get somewhere civilized immediately. Can you blame us? Those poor tapestries!”

Rainbow Dash stared at them. “Soooo… if she wasn’t with you, where is she?”

Rarity sniffed. “Doubtless somewhere untidy, I’d imagine. Not that there’s a thing wrong with it! In its place…”

Twilight Sparkle’s eyes were wide, and so were Pinkie’s, who was unaccountably quiet. The pink pony stared at nothing, as if it was a very scary nothing just waiting to burst out and become something.

Twilight said, “But… did she get out?”

“Oh my gosh!” squeaked Pinkie. “We have to go help her right away!” The something had sprung, and Pinkie’s expression froze the others. This was Pinkie Sense as they’d never seen it—her eyes pleaded with them in abject desperation.

Rainbow Dash laughed. “What? Come on, Pinkie. Who would be dumb enough to stay in a collapsing castle in the freezing cold?”

The five ponies stared at each other.

“Come on!” said Rainbow Dash, genuinely frightened. “Right NOW!”

It was sunny at the old castle, and quiet—too quiet.

They found her where they had left her, clinging to the rope, the portcullis still suspended—tears frozen on her face, torturous strain in her rigid posture.

Rainbow Dash ran up. “AJ! You had us worried! You can let go of the rope now, genius, it’s over! I said… Applejack?” She brushed some snow off Applejack’s body, her heart pounding, waiting for a reaction and seeing none.

Pinkie clung to Twilight Sparkle. “Help her!” she begged. “Make it better! Like, right now, okay?” The difference in her was shocking. All the fun had gone out of her, as if it had never existed.

Rainbow Dash yelled, “Applejack! Wake up!” She hugged the earth pony, and then looked up, face wracked by horror. “She’s cold!”

Rarity’s eyes were wide. “But… why would she do such a thing? What could possibly make her do this?”

Pinkie looked back out the portcullised gate, and pointed with her hoof. “That!”

Twilight looked as well, and saw it—the pitiful little mound of snow. It was just the shape of Rainbow Dash, right down to the wings. “Oh my… Rainbow Dash, was that YOU?”

Dash’s face worked in distress. “I… I fell, and then I got out, and…” She thought back to that moment, when she’d dug out from under the snow mound and thought they’d all left without her. It hadn’t occurred to her exactly where she’d fallen, but now it was plain that she’d fallen directly in harm’s way.

“It looks like you’re still lying there!” said Twilight Sparkle. “She couldn’t go and look more closely without dropping that thing on you!”

“But… Applejack!” cried Rainbow Dash. “Is she…”

Twilight Sparkle set her jaw.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!”

The courtyard was bathed in the purple glow from the studious unicorn’s horn.

It died out, and there was expectant silence. Then… the glow shone out again, even more strongly.

It subsided. Twilight Sparkle panted with effort. The glow shone out a third time, more brightly still—and subsided.

“Do it again!” begged Rainbow Dash, desperately. She felt no change in the cold earth pony body beside her. The world seemed frozen in a moment between the thinkable—and the unthinkable.

“I don’t know!” wailed Twilight. “I can’t find any life in her!”

Rainbow Dash broke. “No! Applejack! Please, no!” Something in Dash’s voice startled Twilight. Too raw, too much pain… what had her failure done?

The other four looked at each other in horror. Twilight began to tear up as well. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I just couldn’t do it! I tried! I could not find a spark of life left in her!” This produced an even more heartbreaking wail of anguish from Rainbow Dash, an unbearable cry of despair that left the other ponies shaken.

Rarity looked on, aghast, her soul wrenched to its core by the tragedy, understanding all too well what had been lost—and her eyes flashed with conviction. “We SHALL. Twilight! Again, with me!” She set her jaw, and strove to match the far more powerful Twilight in a spell she’d never properly learned, straining her psyche heedlessly, every bit of her unmatched drive and determination flung into the task.

The two unicorns drove their magic forth in unison, blind with effort, as Rainbow Dash clung miserably to Applejack’s frozen body and wept, her heart reaching out into the emptiness beside her, as if it didn’t even want to take another beat—alone.

“Wait!” gasped Twilight. “Did you feel that, Rarity?”

“Well, I’m not sure…” stammered the white unicorn. “Don’t give up now, darling!”

“Pinkie! Fluttershy!” said Twilight Sparkle. “Help Rainbow Dash warm her! Rarity, give it to me, this is the one! …NOW!”

The air seemed to vibrate with the force of the magic, all centered around the forlorn little earth-pony body in its tortured position, wrapped tightly by a sobbing blue pegasus, pink earth-pony and yellow pegasus. The two unicorns trembled with their effort—and then, with a deafening report, a circular shockwave of purple shot through with diamond sparkles burst out, centered on that cold body, sending pink and yellow ponies flying. Rarity and Twilight collapsed against each other in a faint.

Rainbow Dash would allow nothing to throw her clear. She clung to Applejack frantically, her face inches from Applejack’s pitiful, strained one, and she stared pleadingly into the tight-squeezed, frozen-teared eyes…

Applejack coughed—without letting go of the rope.

“Applejack!” cried Dash.

Applejack’s eyes opened a bit, but wouldn’t focus, and she didn’t seem relieved at all. It looked like she was trying to pull back harder on the rope, but couldn’t because her muscles were cramped to immobility, and she could be heard whimpering, “…not let go, don’t you let go…”

“APPLEJACK!” yelled Rainbow Dash, right in her face.

Applejack’s eyes tried to blink, and bits of frozen tear cracked and fell off. “…Dashie? Dashie! You got out!” A world of relief was in her halting voice.

Rainbow Dash was weeping more openly. “Of course I did, you silly! You can let go of the rope now!”

“Uhhh…” managed Applejack. “..can’t move my jaw. Or my legs, or nothin’.”

Rainbow Dash reached out and firmly stroked Applejack’s jaw, as the earth pony winced and shuddered, until it grudgingly let go—and the rope whisked out from between her teeth, rocketing towards the gate.

The heavy portcullis plummeted to smash the little snow-mound into dust, spikes plunging into the ground, shaking the whole castle. Fluttershy let out a little shriek and cowered against Pinkie.

Applejack was trying desperately to get up or look around, but was one big cramp. “Did everypony get out okay? Ow, cain’t move, ow, ow…”

“Everypony but you, you numbskull!” yelled Rainbow Dash, grinning and crying all at the same time.

“Did Rarity and Fluttershy get home okay? Without me to protect ‘em?”

“We’re so sorry!” said Fluttershy. “We got home okay…”

“You were protecting ME,” said Rainbow Dash, and embraced Applejack, who still struggled to look around for her friends, her whole body rigid with cramp.

“An’ oh no!” she said. “Ow, cain’t move my legs… Why are Twilight and Rarity over there in a heap?”

“They brought you back to life!” said Pinkie Pie. “It was hard!”

“They WHUT?”

Rainbow Dash looked her in the eye. “You… died,” she said, tears welling up again, this time without anguish. And, without dropping her gaze, she added, softly—“For me.”

Applejack’s gaze back was suddenly far too vulnerable. It was as if she’d been stripped emotionally naked, all at once, and she couldn’t look away, or conceal her love. Her eyes, wide, glistening with tears, answered for her even before she could say four simple words…

“But… I had to.”

“I know,” said Rainbow Dash.

The silence grew between them—for a brief, near-unbearable moment—and only a moment.

“Group hug!” cried Pinkie Pie, filled with joy and relief.

“Um.. Pinkie?” said Fluttershy, with a glance at Applejack and Rainbow Dash. “Let’s go hug Rarity and Twilight? They were so brave…”

“Well, yeah!” said Pinkie. “Thank goodness they were here, and you’re right! We should celebrate them too, not only heroic heroicy-Jack holding up a big heavy gate all night long!”

She zipped off to where Rarity and Twilight were beginning to stir. Fluttershy went with her, with one more glance back at the two ponies.

“Until she… died,” breathed Rainbow Dash, softly.

“Aw, don’t remind me…” said Applejack, eyes still too vulnerable, body trembling.

“Rather than see me come to harm.” Dash’s voice still spoke of love, even though its scrappy little squeak was the same as ever. She sank into the earth pony’s eyes with such trustingness that Applejack became alarmed, and instinctively sought to cover the moment with the old familiar joshing.

“If I could move,” said Applejack, “I’d give you such a kickin’…”

“But you can’t,” said Dash playfully. “Can you?”

“Nope.”

Rainbow Dash, without dropping her gaze, loomed closer—and kissed Applejack full on the lips, melting into the kiss and letting her mouth warm Applejack’s, lingering second after endless second. She didn’t close her eyes, but watched every moment, every realization, as Applejack tried to resist, tried to fall back on the familiar joking casual ways, tried to keep her behavior suitable for a mare in public—and failed, her resistance burning to ash as she gazed into those adoring, ruby eyes. As the last shred of composure left her, she let out a soft moan against Dash’s lips, and she began to weep.

Nearby, Twilight Sparkle stared, still wobbly from her exertion.

“Oh… so that’s what..”

“Ssh,” said Rarity, warningly.

“Well, they could have…”

“No, they couldn’t. I’ll explain later. Ssh!” commanded the white unicorn, interposing her body between the kissing couple and Twilight’s curious stare.

Rainbow Dash didn’t break their kiss until the earth pony’s eyes had lost their fear—though not the tears. Then she tenderly withdrew and for a moment, the two ponies shared that terrible, wonderful openness. Applejack sighed a long, deep sigh that answered all remaining questions without a word—then, Rainbow Dash’s eyes darted in the direction of their friends, and she pulled herself together.

“Hey, that looks like it really hurts!”

“…wuz worth it…” said Applejack, in a daze.

“…sssh!” hissed Rainbow Dash. “No, I mean, your muscles are cramped up like rocks!”

Applejack blinked. “That appears to be the situation…”

“Well,” said Rainbow Dash, “Pinkie’s got Rarity and Twilight up—what do you say we carry you home, if you can’t walk?”

“Absolutely,” said Twilight Sparkle, looking up from a whispered conversation with Rarity. “You deserve more than we could possibly give you!”

“Yes!” added Rarity, “more than the most glittering diamonds, you wonderful brave thing!”

Applejack blinked. “Buh. Wonderful brave what now?”

“And I’m sorry,” said Twilight, “for anything I’ve done to cause you trouble—Rarity tells me some of my remarks might have given you the wrong impression. I, uh, don’t quite know what to say, but if you can think of anything you’d like me to say to make you feel better…”

“Now, darling,” said Rarity, “we need to give them some space. Particularly our brave Applejack, whom I daresay has much to think about…”

“No, no, no, you sillies!” said Pinkie Pie, in exasperation. “It’s cold and snowy! We need to take Applejack home and put her to bed and help do her work while she recovers from being the most awesome pony, like, ever!”

“Right!” said Fluttershy. “We’re putting you to bed where it’s warm…”

Rainbow Dash finished the thought with a flourish. “And you’re going to rest for hours under the most wonderful, amazing, EPIC cozy blanket EVER, until you feel better, no matter how long it takes!”

Applejack looked from Fluttershy to Rainbow Dash, lip quivering. “I ain’t… Dashie?”

Dash regarded Applejack with narrowed eyes. “You don’t like our plan?”

Applejack looked plainitive. “Dashie… my blanket ain’t but a threadbare thing, it ain’t all that. It’s okay. Unless maybe Rarity is offering to provide…”

Softly, tenderly, Rainbow Dash’s wing enfolded Applejack’s body.

Applejack’s eyes swam with tears again—and closed, gently, as she nestled against Rainbow Dash.

Breaks

Rarity was counting the days, though she loathed herself for it.

It had been nearly a week since the incident at the old castle, and she’d seen little of Applejack and Rainbow Dash. They’d propped that gate open with rocks, brought Applejack home and put her to bed, and Dash had made good on her promise, or so Rarity suspected. In truth, she’d never doubted it for a moment; she simply wondered if the country pony was prepared for the whole Rainbow Dash package. She’d built up her own private history of Dash’s personal doings, from what she’d been able to learn, and it was surprisingly complicated.

Applejack probably had two weeks at most before she got her own surprises and complications, and Rarity hoped she’d stand up to it, because Rainbow Dash needed stability, even if she didn’t know she wanted it.

For the time being, Applejack glowed, the object of concentrated pegasus attention, and though she’d been bedridden for days with her muscles wrecked from her dreadful near-death experience, she’d been in luck: Rainbow Dash knew more than a little about recovery from severe athletic strain, and Applejack’s problem had been just that. In an amazingly short time she’d been seen hobbling around, Dash’s wing cuddling her openly as she struggled to master her nearly crippled body, which was apparently one big sprain.

Twilight had hit the books to support her injured friend, and returned with advice that was probably all kinds of sensible, about how Applejack needed to rest and elevate the limbs—which would mean flipping her upside down, presumably—and put them on ice.

Rainbow Dash agreed heartily with the ‘flipping Applejack upside down’ part, which got her a playful cuff from the smirking earth pony, but everything else in the advice was promptly ignored—and Twilight watched in horror as Applejack lifted a haybale and carried it into her barn, even though doing so had obviously hurt. Twilight’s suggestion had been taken as some sort of challenge, and Applejack was going to do the opposite of rest. She was going to resume her work, no matter what it cost her. Twilight flung the book with a cry of frustration, and stalked off in a huff. Five minutes later, she’d snuck back to rescue the book…

Rarity had more important things to think about, however, or at least more productive things. Twilight Sparkle had asked her to help rescue those tapestries they’d found in the castle, and Rarity could hardly wait to get her hooves on them. It would be a major expedition, and even Pinkie Pie wanted to take part. Applejack and Rainbow Dash volunteered immediately, as if trying to beat each other to it, and Fluttershy was persuaded once more to take on dangerous-animal-soothing duties. They’d set off on a lovely winter day, with high hopes for ‘a clear sky and a safer adventure’, as Twilight cheerfully remarked.

It would be among the most ironic statements she’d ever made.

“You need to stop humoring her, Applejack! Seriously! This is really getting on my nerves, you know that?” said Rainbow Dash.

Applejack looked back at her marefriend with narrowed eyes. “Y’all opinion is noted. You know, you can fly on ahead. You got wings, don’t you? Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you.”

“I am terribly sorry to be such a burden…” said Rarity.

“We’ll deal with it,” sighed Applejack.

Rarity made a point of whining, fussing and balking at every patch of mud or rocky ground, because this forced the ponies to stop and wait for her. It was driving Rainbow Dash mad with frustration, but Rarity suppressed a smile, for she noticed how little Applejack was complaining about it.

The country pony had dark, dark circles under her eyes, and her recuperation had been going badly. Her insistence on driving herself toward unrestricted work had ruined it, and only her determination had kept her going—and now, it plainly cost her more than she was prepared to admit, just to keep up with the other five. She wasn’t guessing Rarity’s motives, but she sagged and hung her head, staring into space, every time the fashion unicorn fussed and balked.

“We’re almost there! Come on!” raged Rainbow Dash. Rarity picked her way across another insignificant mud puddle, and Applejack got moving as well, but in an unusual way—when anyone glanced at her, she held her head high and trotted normally, but when nobody was looking, the country pony stepped gently, wincing at every hoof-fall. Rarity shuddered to think about it. Stress carved lines in one’s face, and the foolish mare was devastating her complexion with this behavior.

The gate remained as they’d left it: lifted through the efforts of Dash, Pinkie, Fluttershy and Rarity, and propped open with rocks levitated by Twilight. They hadn’t lifted it very high, for they’d been in a great hurry to get Applejack to safety, and sliding her under a half-raised gate was acceptable at the time. Rainbow Dash arrived first, and barely broke stride, slinking under the gate like Rarity’s cat, with a flutter of wings and a flick of the rainbow-colored tail. Twilight and Pinkie were more awkward, but just as quick. Fluttershy glanced back at the surrounding forest, her wings clapped tightly to her side in fright, and then flowed under the gate even more elegantly than Rainbow Dash had.

Rarity cringed, realizing she would have to press low to the ground in the snow and slush, and that her tail would be ruined, and her belly soiled. She considered trying to use her magic to lift the gate, and quickly abandoned the idea as unrealistic. Then, she noticed that she was not alone.

“Well… shoot,” said Applejack, staring at the only entrance, and trying to bend at the knees. The others had dropped to a pony crouch with ease, but Applejack’s limbs weren’t cooperating, and she’d concealed her condition so well that no-one but Rarity had noticed a problem. Now, she struggled to make it under the lowered portcullis, after a long trot had strained her muscles to the limit. Rarity watched. Applejack wasn’t even close to clearing the gate.

“Oh, dear…” breathed the unicorn, her eyes worried.

Applejack glared at her and set her hooves farther apart. “I got it! Oof… nnnh…”

“Are you all right, dear?” asked Rarity.

“Ah’m fine! Thanks for askin’! You just go on in.”

“It’s… icky.”

Applejack glared at the snowy ground. “Ain’t nothin’ but water. Nice an’ clean. You go on, get in there.”

“You’re not fine,” said Rarity. “Are you?”

That got Rarity twice the glare, and she stepped back a pace and protested, “Don’t be cross! I haven’t said anything! Have I?”

“Said anything about whut?” challenged the stiff-legged earth pony.

“You’ve been concealing it very well—but it looks like that hurts.”

Applejack wore a sulky look, and didn’t reply at first. Then—“Darn tootin’ it does.”

“Can I help?”

“Yeah, by not tellin’ anypony. I got this.” Applejack gritted her teeth and tried to lower her body further. “An’ I better get a move on, too, they’ll come lookin’ for us in a minute…”

“You stayed behind to help brush away the icky slush for me,” suggested Rarity.

Applejack grinned a bit, though her expression was very strained. “I like yer thinkin’. That’s our story, then.”

“Maybe if you move your hooves a little farther apart?”

Applejack tried it, forcing her body still lower with a grimace, and managed to reach a position that would pass under the low-hanging portcullis. She held it, triumphantly. “Got it!”

“You still have to move forward, too.”

“Dammit, you would bring up a detail like that…”

“Maybe you can sort of shuffle forward, a bit at a time?”

Applejack did so, gritting her teeth, and Rarity threw caution to the winds and crawled under the gate with her, watching attentively.

“A little further… yes… yes! You’ve done it!”

“Told ya!” said Applejack, still in her lowered, hooves-wide stance, but looking up triumphantly.

“Now, come along, Applejack, we’ll join the others.”

Rarity set off, glancing back at the earth pony, just in time to see the worst possible sight and be too far away to stop it. Applejack tried to get her hooves under her but caught a patch of ice under one, and Rarity saw, in the frozen time of helplessly viewing a terrible accident, the earth pony’s legs go out from under her weight, too far, forcing an instinctive muscular reaction upon limbs already strained to breaking point—and stopping the fall, too late.

Applejack stood, in her impossibly outstretched position, and her eyes were shocked and wide, staring at nothing. Rarity expected a scream or an outburst of cursing, but what she witnessed was somehow worse. The blonde earth pony whimpered “…oh my gosh…” very faintly, and her eyes began to roll back in her head.

Rarity rushed to her side, and began supporting her weight with her forelegs, her horn glowing with further attempts to lift her friend. “Darling! Heavens! Is it bad?” She immediately wanted to kick herself for the foolish remark, but it had been made regardless.

Applejack was in no position to complain, and though a sarcastic retort would’ve been reassuringly normal to hear, even that was beyond her. Tears came to her eyes, and she let out another too-quiet “…oh my…” and began to shake, her teeth gritting with a faint grinding noise. Rarity redoubled her efforts, and was able to lift Applejack off her tormented legs entirely with a heroic outburst of unicorn magic and physical strain, but the unicorn rapidly tired.

“I can’t hold you! Do I lay you on your side? What must I do?”

Applejack couldn’t answer, and Rarity couldn’t think fast enough. In the end, she just lowered Applejack gently down onto her own hooves again. She felt shudders rack the earth pony’s body as the weight went back onto her legs, but Applejack didn’t collapse. She stood, panting, eyes too wide, face twisted in anguish.

“Oh, you poor dear! I’ll get the others…”

“Don’t… you dare!” managed Applejack.

“What? But darling!”

“Ah… am not… gittin’ carried outta this place again!”

“But look at you! Applejack, dear, it is cold, yet you are sweating. As if you weren’t harming your complexion enough! I insist! I’ll have my spa reserve a hot bath for you, and-”

“Won’t!” gritted the earth pony, her glare intimidating between lowered brows and the dark circles under her eyes. The sheer fierceness stopped Rarity for a moment, and when she replied, it was with equal incautiousness.

“This is because you don’t want to look weak and helpless in front of Rainbow Dash. Isn’t it?”

Applejack’s glare worsened. She didn’t speak.

“You’re a fool. It doesn’t matter, and even if it did, you can’t go on like this. You can’t even walk, can you? Rainbow Dash would never…”

“Hey, guys! Are you okay? I heard you calling me!”

Rainbow Dash came into view, from around the side of the stone archway. She took one look at the two, and turned to face Rarity. “And just what do you think you’re saying to Applejack? Huh? Why does she look so mad? Did I hear ‘can’t go on’? I’m gonna give you about three seconds to explain what you were saying!”

Rarity cringed back, but then her jaw dropped and she could only stare in astonishment. Applejack, impossibly, had stepped forward. Rarity could see tendons in her neck standing out like cables, but in spite of that, she took another step, almost normally, her head held high. The country pony was moving on the force of stubborn pride alone, refusing to show weakness in front of her new marefriend, and the look she shot Rarity was murderous.

“Nothin… o’ consequence, Dashie,” she gritted.

“Hey—are you all right, AJ? You look kind of not too good to me.”

Applejack snorted, showing the hint of a grim smile. “Fickle!”

“I don’t mean that, silly!” snickered Dash. She bumped Applejack playfully with her shoulder, and the larger mare staggered, the tendons in her neck standing out even worse and the breath hissing through her tightly gritted teeth until she resumed her gentle pace.

“Maybe… a lil’ less… roughhousin’, Dashie. For now.”

Dash blinked. “Sure. Of course. We’re just trying to open some of the rooms. You know, in the walls?”

Rarity tagged along behind them, eyes like saucers as she watched Applejack walk almost normally. She ventured, “If we could perhaps talk a little about…”

“Nope,” said Applejack, not even turning her head.

“I’m almost certain Twilight Sparkle said something about rest and avoiding over-strain…”

“Not listenin’.”

“For fear of exacerbating injuries,” continued Rarity, “so you can heal…”

“Cain’t hear you.”

“Oooh! Very well! Suit yourself!” cried Rarity, and ran ahead. Rainbow Dash blinked at her.

“Applejack, is that what she was fighting with you about? I want you to get better too. I didn’t want to say anything, but you did kinda go back to your work awful soon.”

Applejack looked at her with a narrowed eye, and Dash’s heart gave a flip. That fierce self-reliance, the iron-pony toughness, made all the more palpable by a sheen of sweat and the heavy, dark line under Applejack’s eye. That challenging gaze…

“Sorry… boss!” breathed Rainbow Dash.

Applejack gave another sidelong hint of a smile, and Dash stumbled over her own hooves for a moment, only to trot back to Applejack’s side like an eager puppy. Her wing went out to drape over the earth pony’s back as they continued along.

Rarity was talking to Twilight when they rejoined the group, which brought another glower from Applejack, but it didn’t seem as though any plans were being changed. Twilight looked worried, but addressed them anyhow, as if things were normal.

“We’ve got to clear these snowdrifts, and then bring the tapestries out. They may be fragile, so it would be best not to fold or roll them if we can help it. We’ll need a clear space to lay them, one that’s not wet or snowy…”

Rainbow Dash’s wing swept across Applejack’s back. “Got one!”

“Oh! Good thinking, Dash! You don’t mind, Applejack? We’ll need to pile the tapestries on you. Would it be okay if you, uh… stood there for us, and didn’t move?”

Twilight peered hopefully at the haggard earth pony, her eyes an entreaty.

Applejack looked at her sourly, then at Rarity, then at Rainbow Dash, and made a face, rolling her eyes. “Oh, all right.”

Relief seemed to fill the air, and Twilight hastily moved on to the next item on her agenda. “Pinkie, Dash, you two can get started on the snowdrift in front of the room we opened. Fluttershy, Rarity, you can start trying to open more of these rooms. We’re going to want to check all of them, in order, so we don’t miss anything. You can leave the doors wide open if there’s something inside, or forty-five degrees ajar if there wasn’t anything, to indicate that we should skip over that one…”

Dash rolled her eyes. Rarity inquired, “Precisely forty-five degrees, Twilight dear?”

“Yes!” replied Twilight, with an uneasy grin, sensing disorder in the ranks.

“But some of the doors may be warped. If the door is warped so terribly that part of it is forty-four degrees, and part is forty-six, which part do I choose?” Rarity kept a perfectly straight face.

Twilight blinked. “Um… the part closest to the hinges, which would count as the base of the d…” She saw her friends beginning to dissolve into giggles, and gave a growl of vexation. “All right, all right! Just wing it! Crazy ponies…”

A gust of wind blew across the castle, stirring up a fine mist of sharp ice crystals. The stonework creaked, a dry, strangely hollow sound.

The ponies spread out, moving to their appointed tasks, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie kicking at the snowdrift in front of the first door, Rarity and Fluttershy beginning to tug at the next one. Applejack, her job not yet begun, hobbled gently over to the room that Rarity and Fluttershy would open next.

Stone creaked in the wind.

“Oh, pull harder, Fluttershy!” said Rarity. “Here, let me use my magic to help. One, two, three!”

Applejack peered at the door. It used the usual pull-ring, for equine teeth, and she wondered if it was worth tugging at it. Her muscles and ligaments said ‘hell no’, and she glared at it and turned away, preparing to return to her spot in the sun. There was a nasty shadow that cast a chill over her aching body.

“Again! One, two, three!” The whole wall shuddered as the two ponies strained at the door.

The shadow moved.

Applejack looked up, as a dry grinding noise came from far over her head.

High up on the wall, a huge stone stuck out. Wind and weather had shifted it, over the years, until its precarious balance awaited just such a nudge. Rarity and Fluttershy looked up, hearing the sound, as did Twilight—in an instant, all five of her friends were staring as the giant rock swayed in the breeze, and then, so very slowly, toppled.

Applejack’s face fell as she saw it begin to go.

“Jump!” cried Twilight. Fluttershy chimed in, “Jump!” Rarity’s expression was stricken with horror, her eyes huge. “Get out of there!” screamed Rainbow Dash.

Applejack tried to. She half succeeded.

As the heavy stone came down, the earth pony beneath it turned and attempted to leap. She was able to get her front legs off the ground, and through sheer determination, flung herself a foot or so out of the way. The effort was so painful that her hindquarters seized up mid-leap. Back hooves dragged furrows in the ground, unable to lift themselves further, and Applejack’s body crashed to the earth, helplessly, legs outstretched in front of and behind her, spasming into rigidity.

An instant later, the stone came down upon her hind legs with a ground-shaking thud—and a sickening crunch.

Applejack’s head arched back in agony, teeth bared. Fluttershy screamed, ear-splittingly, as did Twilight. Dash and Rarity reached her at the same time, and Dash yelled, “Help me!” while trying to get a hoof-purchase on the bottom edge of the huge stone.

“But, what if you shouldn’t try to move it?” protested Rarity.

Rainbow Dash glared at her, and heaved at the rock. It shifted, and Applejack let out a strangled scream, trying to pull herself free as the rock settled back down onto her smashed legs again. Dash reacted as if electrified—her body convulsed in a desperate feat of strength, and the huge rock lifted higher, and held…

Rarity threw herself against it, then Pinkie, and when Fluttershy and Twilight arrived instants later, the stone flipped over onto its back, out of harm’s way.

Their attention turned to the harm that had been done already.

Applejack’s eyes were open, and the front of her body was raised off the ground, as if she was still trying to pull herself away from her smashed hindquarters. She panted, staring into space, and her back legs were bent in subtly but disturbingly wrong ways. There wasn’t any blood or gore… at least, not on the outside.

“Fraid I… can’t stand for y’all…”

“How are you still able to talk?” said Rainbow Dash, fluttering nervously, her panic held in check only by Applejack’s impossible stoicism. “You are hurt, right? Am I missing something? Are you going to jump up and start kicking in doors?”

“Nope.”

Twilight also appeared dumbfounded. “Is this shock, then? It might make it easier for us to rescue you if it is. We’ve got to do that, right away, it’s just a question of how. We might need to move quickly. Are you in shock?”

“The hay is that?” managed Applejack. She was panting hard and holding very, very still, not even blinking, and her expression was being dragged, bit by bit, into a mask of torment.

“Shock is the reaction of an organism to severe injury!” said Twilight. “It can mean a number of things. I’m very worried about how pale you’re getting, which is one sign of shock. Are you experiencing dizziness, light-headedness or confusion?”

“Whut?”

“Um, right,” said Twilight, sounding even more worried. “We have to get you out of here right now. I just don’t know… if your spine was broken, you might be numb and we could try to carry you home as fast as possible, in hopes we got there before you started to feel much. Do you have any sensation in your extremities?”

“Whut?” panted Applejack.

Twilight bit her lip. “Oh, Celestia forgive me… Do you feel this?” She reached out a hoof, and nudged Applejack’s hind leg.

Applejack’s body shook as if struck by lightning, and a guttural scream ripped from her throat. Once it started, she couldn’t stop. She began to thrash, trying to pull herself away from the pain with her good forelegs, and it only made matters worse.

“Twilight!” screamed Rainbow Dash, clinging to Applejack, trying to hold her still. “Look what you did!”

“Make it stop! Make it better!” begged Pinkie Pie.

“DO something!” screamed Rarity, right in Twilight’s face. The purple unicorn blanched, took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut and just about doubled over with effort, her mane and tail flying out as the air went reddish-purple all around…

With a bang, the six vanished from the snowy ground of the old castle.

With the matching other side of that same bang, they appeared in Twilight’s library, thumping to the floor.

Spike shot up out of his bed, a horrified look on his face. He’d been napping, and then there was a loud bang and the air was filled with unbearable screaming. Pinkie Pie’s high screech was removing the top of his head, Rainbow Dash raged incoherently at Twilight, who’d collapsed in a heap, but the truly awful part was Applejack. Spike knew Applejack should never be screaming like that. One unforgettable look explained everything. Legs weren’t supposed to do that, either.

“What did you do that for, Twilight?” screamed Rainbow Dash, fighting to control Applejack’s writhing form—which suddenly went limp. “Oh my gosh! No! Applejack!”

An unexpected voice cut through. “Rainbow Dash! Stop and listen to me!”

Fluttershy. Hovering in the air, her eyes commanding, taking control.

“Let go of her! Straighten her out. Straighten those legs, before she tries to kick again! Quickly!”

Rarity and Pinkie Pie rushed to do so, Rarity cringing even to handle Applejack’s dreadfully injured hind legs. Rainbow Dash got Applejack’s body lying straight, and they all looked up at Fluttershy beseechingly, in the sudden silence.

“Wake up Twilight, and hurry! This is serious!”

Spike ran over. “I got it! Are you going to help her? Can Twilight fix her?”

Suddenly, Fluttershy’s hover wobbled. “I… don’t know! But we have to try!”

Spike shook Twilight, and the purple unicorn stirred and blinked as he shouted, “Twilight! You’re needed!”

“Oh, my head…”

“Uh,” said Rainbow Dash, “you better hurry up with that!” She was holding Applejack’s front half to her, and the earth pony was beginning to stir, moaning and struggling. Dash turned her attention to her marefriend. “Applejack! Hold still! Will you hold still?”

Applejack was haggard like nobody had ever seen, with good reason, but she heard Rainbow Dash’s pleading, and she listened. She was deathly pale, trembling, eyes fixed on the far distance, but she held perfectly still, and all the screaming and hysteria stopped.

“If you touch her leg again,” hissed Dash at the dazed Twilight Sparkle, “I’ll kick your face in…”

“Stop it, Rainbow Dash!” said Fluttershy. “Be calm. Everypony be calm. Be calm, and we’ll ask Twilight what she can do.”

Twilight shook her head, and stared. “Me? I can’t do anything! You’re the one giving orders!”

“I’ve… only helped little bunnies and squirrels before,” admitted Fluttershy.

“Well, I haven’t even done that!”

“Maybe… it’s time you… tried?” panted Applejack. “Wouldn’t… say no.”

Dash stared at Twilight. “But you returned her to life! What do you mean you can’t do anything?”

“That’s different! It was really hard, and it took me and Rarity to do it, and it was connecting her basic life spirit back into her body again! I didn’t actually fix anything about her body, it was still ruined once I was done with it!”

“Charitable…” muttered Applejack.

“Well, it was! How am I supposed to do anything about this? It’s much more complicated, the body has natural healing processes you can’t mess with! Her legs aren’t even leg-shaped anymore!”

Fluttershy thought furiously, her wings beating at a more rapid pace as she thought. “It’s like the bunnies. We have to do what I did for the bunnies and things, but on a larger scale. She needs casts, so her bones can mend. Twilight, can you make those with magic, using materials we have around your house? They must be hard materials, like plaster, so her legs can’t possibly move even the tiniest amount.”

Twilight looked frazzled. “I’m pretty sure I can. Let me start on that…”

“Oh, no!” cried Fluttershy.

“Now what?”

The yellow pegasus looked more anxious than ever. “Can you use magic to look inside her legs and see where the bones are? There’s a bunny I take care of, now. I gave him a cast, but the bones weren’t right. He doesn’t hurt anymore… but he won’t ever walk again…”

Dash and Applejack exchanged horrified glances.

“I’ll try,” said Twilight, and concentrated. “Yes, I can certainly… oh. Oh my. Ah. Well.”

“What?” quavered Applejack. Dash hugged her, cautiously.

“That’s a real mess, in there,” said Twilight.

“Oh, no!” said Fluttershy. “How are we going to get them lined up properly? I was hoping it wouldn’t be too complicated.”

“Wait! I think I can probably use my magic to do that…” said Twilight, and before anyone could say anything, Applejack’s eyes flew wide and she made a dreadful gasping noise, deep in her throat. Twilight froze, and made no further magical adjustments of bone, and Applejack made no further protest—but her gaze was panicky.

Dash glared at Twilight and began to say, “Don’t-” but Fluttershy cut her off. “Stop that. She must. We can’t just put casts on. She has to fit the bones together perfectly, or they won’t knit and become strong.”

“I don’t feel exactly strong,” said Applejack. Tears were in her eyes. “You… you have to do that more?”

“Twilight,” asked Fluttershy, “can you make it so she doesn’t have pain while you do it?”

Twilight Sparkle hung her head. When she looked up, she too was tearful. “I can’t! I don’t even know if I can get the bones right, and I’ve got to! They’re so complicated, and her leg would have to be stretched out a little bit just to fit the pieces together at all…”

“Oh, sweet Celestia…” muttered Applejack, more fear coming to her expression.

“And the worst part is, getting us here left me exhausted! I’m sure I can’t both pull on her leg, and adjust the bones. I’ve got to, but I just can’t!”

Fluttershy’s eyes were momentarily distraught, and then hardened. “I know what we have to do. I’ll talk you all through it, and Applejack will walk again if we do it perfectly, but we have to do it right away.”

They hung on her words.

“Someone needs to hold her still, and someone must put traction on each leg while Twilight fixes the bones. Rarity, you work with fabric all the time—can you wrap her legs with plaster to form casts?”

“I, I… yes, dear.” Rarity gulped. “I shall! I’ll do it.” She concentrated, and from the back of Twilight’s house, materials began to emerge—bedsheets, plaster, a container to mix the plaster in. Applejack watched these preparations with a panicky eye.

“Rainbow Dash,” continued Fluttershy, “you’re strong, and you care for Applejack more than any of us. We need you to gently but firmly pull on the…”

“No!” cried Rainbow Dash. Her wings flapped anxiously. “I can’t stand this! I can’t! This is not something I can do, all right? I just can’t be around this… tell me when it’s over, I’ll be at home crying and hiding under my bed…”

“Darlin’?” said Applejack, paler than ever. Rainbow Dash froze in mid-escape, and looked back. Applejack’s lip was quivering, and her eyes brimmed and pleaded as she said, “Please hold me? If this must happen?”

Rainbow Dash’s face was like a very young filly’s as she slowly, unwillingly, crept back to Applejack’s side. She bit her lip, her ears were laid back in terror, but she did not leave, or utter a word of argument. Her wings rattled against her sides.

Fluttershy nodded. “Now we have Pinkie, and I suppose Spike…”

“Um, please no?” stammered Applejack in haste. “Fluttershy? If someone must do this to me, can it be you? Please? I’m beggin’ ya, honey.”

Fluttershy hesitated, but it was simply too obvious. Every eye looked to her. There was no other choice.

“All right. Pinkie, you go on Applejack’s other side. Hold her tightly! Twilight, Rarity, are you prepared?” Fluttershy flew around behind Applejack. “Is everybody ready?”

“What kind of a question is that?” whimpered Applejack.

“The kind,” said Fluttershy, “where the answer is very important.”

“An’ what if the answer is, hell no?”

“Is it?”

Applejack gulped. The pain was already unthinkable. She wasn’t getting any less pale, wasn’t feeling any better second by second, and the dark circles under her eyes were now ghastly trenches of torment and woe. She had no choice but to trust her friends.

“Naw. It ain’t,” she said, heart pounding. “Go ahead.”

She scrunched her eyes shut and buried her head under Dash’s chin, waiting. Two unicorn horns glowed expectantly, as Fluttershy firmly grasped one of Applejack’s hooves—and pulled.

Instantly, a bolt of pain shot through Applejack, as if a sword transfixed her from hoof to heart—her vision whited out, then went dark, as Rainbow Dash cradled her head and Pinkie anchored her body. Dimly, she heard her friends shouting…

“Get that cloth ready, Rarity!”

“Not so much, Fluttershy! Back a little!”

“Is that enough?”

“This was the simpler one, it’s ready! Slowly, I’ll guide it…”

Applejack felt, through the inferno of pain that seemed to spear straight through her, the grisly sensation of her leg bones grating against each other—and then, they meshed, and locked, still burning her senses to ash.

“Hurry, Rarity!”

The agony was worsened by cloth wrapping and squeezing her tormented hind leg, cloth wet and gloppy with plaster.

“I can speed that! I know how!” cried Twilight, and the torturous wrapping froze solid. Her leg felt like it was being roasted inside a heated shell. Applejack keened in agony, her vision blurring, doubling, blocked out as she squeezed her eyes shut again.

The next thing she knew, Fluttershy was in front of her, looking anxious, saying “That was very good! You were so good, now we’ve got one more to go, okay? Twilight says it might be an eensy bit harder to do. Are you okay? Are you still with us?”

The look Applejack gave her in response was far from reassuring.

“Get ready!” warned Fluttershy, returning to her position behind Applejack. Her words weren’t for the anguished earth pony, but for the two unicorn amateur surgeons and the two pony orderlies responsible for the next part. Fluttershy firmly took the remaining hind hoof—and drew it back, seeing the distorted pony leg grotesquely drawn into straightness.

Twilight concentrated, and began to work. Rarity got ready with a plaster-soaked cloth: she seemed to be coming up with them by magic, for she hadn’t been near the plaster bowl. Rainbow Dash anxiously cuddled and consoled Applejack’s head, as the earth pony’s keening worsened, as Applejack began to pound the ground with a forehoof, her ears laid back, and Twilight Sparkle still concentrated…

The air was split with a horrible scream, as Applejack’s endurance gave way—and then, five more screams, for the tormented pony had wrenched her hoof out of Fluttershy’s grasp. Her leg bent into horrible wrongness, drawn by the enormous strength of her leg muscles, and she continued to try to kick with it before collapsing with horrible shuddering cries. Rainbow Dash had been tossed to the side when the earth pony body convulsed. Pinkie Pie had hung on like a bulldog, and continued to hold Applejack down.

“Get back on her, Rainbow Dash!” screamed Fluttershy. “Right now!”

She flew around, to get right in Applejack’s face. “Hold her head up!” she commanded, and Dash did. Fluttershy proceeded to lay down the law.

“Applejack! I need your cooperation. I am not as strong as you are! Listen to me! If you kick your leg, I cannot hold it. You have to let us finish this!”

Dash sobbed, “You’re hurting her so bad!”

“You’re hurting her worse by making this continue longer!” screamed Fluttershy. She turned her attention back to Applejack, who seemed to be trying to listen. “We have to finish. Pinkie will hold you, Dash will do what she can, I will pull your leg straight again and Twilight will try and mend it. Rarity will wrap it and then this will be over. You have to let us! You are too strong and I can’t fight you, so let us finish this, no matter what it feels like!”

Applejack was shaking. Her teeth were chattering, her body was glossy with sweat, her face was a mask of woe, her eyes begged for death to end the unbearable torture… and then, somehow, impossibly, she nodded, and set her jaw once more, her expression a pitiful blend of grim determination and utter despair.

Applejack squeezed her eyes shut again, pressed her head under Dash’s chin… and, in her mind, walked back into the fire, to stand there as long as she must.

As Fluttershy drew her hoof back, and the dreadfully misshapen leg straightened, all the tendons on Applejack’s neck stood out. Rainbow Dash felt her body stiffen, and burst into tears, clinging to her, while Pinkie latched on with a scowl of ultimate concentration, and as Twilight swayed and wobbled with the intensity of her magical focus, Applejack keened again, and then began to scream, louder and louder, gasping hysterical breaths and venting them in shrieks of anguish, her mind ripped by the sensations of the purple unicorn frantically twisting shards of bone and trying to reassemble the jigsaw that was Applejack’s poor leg. Twilight sweated, the screams ringing in her ears, wanting to flee the scene but refusing to give up. Rarity waited, trembling, her plaster-soaked cloth at the ready.

And Fluttershy held the earth pony hoof firmly… without any struggle, at all.

It seemed as though Applejack would have to pass out. It would have been a mercy. Her voice gave out, became cracked and hoarse—her eyes rolled back in her head—but no such mercy came, and Dash sobbed, wiping Applejack’s brow with a tender wing, staying with her as the shocks wracked her body and her screams became feebler, pitiful, exhausted things.

“I’ve got it!” cried Twilight, panting. “Start closing up that extra space!”

Fluttershy slowly began to let the hoof pull back. “Keep it all together! Don’t lose your concentration or we’ll have to do it all over! Rarity!”

“I am ready! Just like last time, ladies!”

The puzzle pieces came together inside Applejack’s leg, provoking a squeal from between her gritted teeth, and a series of spasms to accompany every grit and grind of bone. Rarity’s pieces of cloth flew, several at once, swaddling the ruined limb in a sheath of plaster.

Twilight staggered, grimacing as she vented her magic in one final effort, wobbling as the plaster hardened and cured—and then fell over with a gentle thump, panting on the floor.

It was done. Applejack had finally, mercifully, fainted. Her breathing rasped, over the background of Rainbow Dash’s heartbroken weeping.

“We… did it?” said Twilight, looking across the floor.

“I think we did it?” replied Fluttershy, looking at Dash and Applejack as they lay together.

“We did!” said Pinkie Pie, letting go of Applejack’s body at last, and sitting up. “We totally did it!”

They looked at their handiwork. Applejack’s hind legs, once horrible and crushed, were back in their true, elegant shape, stretched out behind her as if in mid-leap. She lay collapsed across the floor, her head cradled in Dash’s forelegs. Applejack looked so sad, the heavy lines under her eyes a testament to her struggles both leading up to and during their terrible day of tribulation—but when she slept, the tension went out of her stern face, and she looked younger, more feminine, her blonde hair falling across her face, her hat lying on the floor, forgotten.

“We really did it,” marvelled Twilight, getting to her feet and wobbling a little. “She’s going to make it.”

“I’m so proud of all of you!” said Fluttershy, her voice tender again. “We couldn’t have done it without everyone’s help. If even one had failed, we all would have failed. Every one of you are my hero!”

Rainbow Dash looked up, her face stricken, washed with tears. “Oh yeah? A lot of good I was! I’m useless! She knocked me right over!”

“No, Rainbow Dash. No!” said Fluttershy. “She wanted you to be there for her, to not leave her. And you didn’t! You didn’t run away. You’re still there! You have nothing, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s right!” said Pinkie. “The only one who didn’t do what Fluttershy told them to do is Spike!” Rainbow Dash nodded, adding, “And that’s okay because he’s just a baby d…”

Rarity cleared her throat, and they all looked in her direction.

She sat, hoof tapping the ground and haughty stare demanding respect, directly beside Spike—who still held strips of cloth in both arms, and who was covered from little claws to spikey tail with plaster.

“I think you owe somebody a grovelling, heartfelt apology,” said Rarity. “Didn’t you notice I was able to work awfully fast?”

“Sorry, Spike,” mumbled Rainbow Dash, sniffling.

“Yeah—sorry! I didn’t see you doing that!” said Pinkie Pie.

Twilight trotted over and hugged him. “You’re the best!”

Spike grinned, dropped the plaster-soaked cloth strips on the floor, and stuck his chest out. “Thank you, thank you—all in a day’s work for…”

He stopped, abruptly, for Rarity had turned to him, and looking in her eyes had rendered him mute. She nuzzled him, heedless of the plaster, and breathed, “You were wonderful.”

Spike swayed back and forth, his eyes unfocused, a big wobbly smile on his face. Rarity regarded him affectionately, and then turned away, a smear of plaster on her alabaster cheek.

“Twilight! You can mop him up later. He deserved every bit of that, believe me. Have you got a tissue?”

Before Twilight could attend to Rarity’s request, there was a cough, and the ponies looked over to see Applejack stirring. It was a pitiful sight, because the vulnerability in her sleeping face stuck around, giving the impression of a younger filly waking up, hurt and in tears. Applejack looked around imploringly, her lip quivering, and then seemed to remember what had happened. She shook her head, and some of her determined, tough look came back.

“Um.. ow?” she said.

Rainbow Dash cuddled her. “Oh, Applejack!”

“Awwww… don’t take on so, sugarcube. It’s gonna be all right. I promise.” She looked around. “Well, Fluttershy, Fluttershy, Fluttershy. I ain’t ever gonna look at you quite the same again.”

“I’m sorry…” said Fluttershy.

“You damn well ought to be… an’ I thank you. Me an’ my new kind ‘o nightmares thank you kindly…”

“It really worked, didn’t it?” said Twilight Sparkle. “Look at you.”

Dash did look at Applejack, from up close. “They did it that good? This is amazing. I’m so glad. Did they put your legs together so well that they don’t even hurt, now? That can’t be possible! How… how bad is it, really, AJ?”

Applejack’s gaze was a bit strained, but it twinkled.

“Yeah, funny thing about that. Guess what?”

Dash’s jaw dropped in delight, a big smile coming to her tearful face.

“It’s completely horrible!” said Applejack, and Dash’s face fell.

Applejack chuckled, weakly, and nuzzled against Rainbow Dash’s neck again. “Which is one heck of an improvement already, sugarcube! I’ll take completely horrible anyday, compared to what we went through. Ladies, y’all are amazin’.”

“I helped too!” said Spike.

“You did? If it was you fumblin’ with them bone pieces, I owe you such a kickin’…”

“No, I mixed the plaster! And I made bandages. Or whatever you call them.”

“Well, then,” said Applejack magnanimously, “I thank you as well.”

“It’s so good to have you back,” said Rainbow Dash. “It was really horrible. You were so hurt, and you were screaming-”

Applejack stopped her with a sharp look. “How about we stop talkin’ on such subjects?”

“Okay!” replied Dash, immediately, but it didn’t appease Applejack right away. She continued to stare, and then followed up with another question, directly to Dash.

“I’m still the iron pony?”

Rainbow Dash teared up. “More than ever. Always.”

Applejack sighed, satisfied with the answer.

“My!” said Rarity. “I can see that you’re quite back to normal! It’s most impressive.”

Applejack nodded. “Yep! I can feel everything fittin’ together real nice now. Y’all miracle workers, and no mistake. I sure am grateful! I won’t disrespect your efforts this time, neither. I’ll be real careful when I go out to bring in them crops an… oh!” She glanced behind her, alarmed, and her face fell.

“Yes,” said Rarity. “I’d wondered when you would think of that.”

“They… but… an’…” stammered Applejack.

“Quite,” said Rarity.

“But what am I supposed to do?” said Applejack, her panic rising. “DO you got any idea the number o’ things that need to be done on the farm?”

“We’ll help you!” said Twilight Sparkle. “Um… there may have to be magic involved at times. And we’re all very different ponies. But we’ll do whatever you ask!”

Applejack’s expression as she considered this prospect was nearly as pitiful as the one she’d woken up with. “But…”

“Until you’ve recovered, and your casts have come off!”

Applejack glared at Twilight. “I remember you had casts once. Ditzy Doo dropped some stuff on top of you, and it seemed like them casts were back off in no time. Well, when do these casts come off?”

Pinkie Pie answered, with complete authority, “When it’s funny!” She winked, as if to a camera nobody saw.

Applejack’s expression would’ve soured milk. “Well, now, this ain’t funny! What do you say to that, missy?”

Pinkie Pie batted her eyelashes.

“I can see how that would be a problem for you, yeah…”

Duties

“Y’all did WHUT?”

Rainbow Dash was smirking like Applejack had never seen. “We got them.”

The earth pony stared up from her bed, casts awkwardly propped against the footboard. “Them tapestries? What, all of them?”

“Uh-huh.” Dash’s smugness was so thick it could’ve buttered toast.

“You all went back without me? Ya couldn’t wait?”

“Nope. I said ‘we’, but I didn’t mean everypony.”

“Then who?”

Rainbow Dash’s wings lifted in pride—and, clearly, the desire to show off. “Oh, just me and Twilight Sparkle. That’s all.” She waited, and after a slight pause, added, “You’re supposed to cheer, AJ. Right? Can I get a ‘Hooray, Rainbow Dash, you’re the best’?”

Applejack wasn’t cheering. “Ya shouldn’a done it. It’s dangerous.”

“It was not! It was easy!”

“You’re seriously gonna stand there, right in front of me, when I’m still laid up with busted legs, and you tell me it wasn’t dangerous?”

“Well… not for us! You shoulda seen Twilight, zang, whoosh, zap! I flew air support and watched out for her while we traveled there, and I kicked in all the doors myself! Whoosh, she floats all the tapestries out, and I’m flying shuttle flights back to Ponyville so Rarity could put them on special stands she made, and on the way back this huge magic bear jumped out at us but Twilight floated right up into the air on her magic! And she couldn’t move very fast that way but I flew down, zoom, and I kicked it in the belly, again and again, until it cried and ran off! Um, I think that was its belly. Or close to its belly. But it was awesome!”

Applejack’s expression was filled with dismay. “Dangerous! You can’t just do things like that, Dashie! Please wait until I kin be there to protect you?”

Dash’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I can’t take care of myself?”

“Oh, Dashie—I’m tryin’ to say, it hurts my heart that you should have to.”

“Awwww.” Dash hugged her marefriend. “It’s so easy to forget how sweet you really are, Applejack. But seriously—we were fine. Really. It was kind of amazing. We were like pegasus and unicorn superheroes. Twilight is so powerful! And, well, I’m pretty awesome myself!”

“I know, I know…” said Applejack. “I ain’t likely to forget it. I am the luckiest mare in Equestria.” She pouted. “Except for this here ridiculous bedridden nonsense.”

“Twilight promised she’d come right over, after she’s done talking to Rarity—they have to decide whose place gets which tapestries to look at.” Rainbow Dash winced. “I wasn’t about to hang around and watch that. Even a super-unicorn is in trouble if she wants to argue with Rarity. It might take a while.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. “You simply must be joking, darling. Reconsider.”

“I’m serious, Rarity! Is that so unreasonable?”

“Twilight! Unacceptable!”

“It isn’t! I really need this one!”

“But darling!” cried Rarity. “Only that one?”

Twilight Sparkle continued to admire the first tapestry they’d found, while Rarity’s lip quivered. She’d mounted the whole collection beautifully, and they glowed in the morning light. Some of their discoveries shone with threads that showed the influence of unicorn magic on threadmaking: iridescent shimmering beyond the previous technology. Others depicted views of Equestria from heights never before imagined: pegasus self-discovery, their experience documented in art. The treasure trove was unimaginable.

Yet Twilight Sparkle had eyes only for their first discovery, the drab representation of the first unicorns and pegasi, plain stitching telling their story.

“Is it perhaps the stark, monochromatic motif?” asked Rarity.

“Oh, no no…”

“I trust it isn’t… the, ah, wing thing? Not that there would be anything wrong with that!” protested Rarity. “I would simply counsel… discretion.”

“What?” said Twilight, perplexed. “What wing thing?”

“Presumably not!” said the white unicorn. “In that case, would you be so good as to simply tell me? I feel that you are entitled to your pick of the beauty that we discovered. It confounds me beyond expression that you’re passing it by.”

Twilight sighed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you after you went to such trouble. But I’m really just interested in this one.”

“May I ask why? It seems so… plain.”

“But it’s not! It’s really not, you just have to think about its meaning. I feel like, if I understood it better, it would answer some very important questions I have.”

“Such as?” inquired Rarity.

“I didn’t know many earth ponies in Canterlot… well, I didn’t really know anybody, though I got some great studying done! But now that I’m in Ponyville, I’m seeing more of the earth ponies, and they’re so unusual…”

Rarity blinked. “Would you run that by me again? I’m afraid it made no sense at all the first time.”

“I guess they’re unusual to me. I don’t know how to explain this. How are they so… secure?”

“What else would they be, darling?”

“Well… I’m not secure!”

Rarity’s face threatened to break into a smile. “Poor Twilight! I would never have imagined it, I assure you. How can I help?”

“I don’t know! I thought this tapestry would help. Even here, even these little stitched earth ponies look secure! I don’t need all those tapestries of the unicorns and pegasi doing amazing things. I already know all that. I’ve done amazing things myself, why can’t I have that kind of security?”

Rarity looked over her friend. “Far be it from me to suggest that I may know better than you…”

“But you’re going to anyway,” grumbled Twilight.

“Of course. I simply thought, rather than pore over old books or even old tapestries, perhaps you’d like to come with me this afternoon? We’re going to help Applejack with her farm. The pegasus ponies have a storm they must send through, and we’ve got to bring in some of her crops lest they be spoiled, secure something or other and rotate something else. It sounds dreadful, and I would adore your company.”

Twilight considered this, her face a picture of dubiousness. “Applejack isn’t exactly someone I think I could emulate. She’s amazing, yes, but she asks far too much of herself! If I had to be like that, I’d be even more insecure than I am!”

“But if it’s earth pony toughness and tenacity you seek?”

“Point taken,” said Twilight. “Do we at least get to use magic?”

Rarity grimaced. “You remember what it took to convince her, last apple harvest…”

“And then, I really put my hoof in it for Winter Wrap-up, didn’t I?”

“I think we’d better just go and do our best, darling, and not expect too much. No?”

“Well,” said Twilight, “at least we can expect Applejack’s hospitality!”

“You do not stack them things on top of each other, y’hear?” shouted Applejack. “Git them back down right now!”

“But they’re crates of lettuces, Applejack!” pleaded Twilight. “I saw what the crates are made of. They’re wooden, surely they can stand the insignificant weight?”

“Ain’t the weight, Twilight! Din’t you see the way them lettuces were stacked in there facin’ up? If dirty mud from the bottom of the crates falls in the top of them other crates, it’ll git all in the lettuces and you’ll be grindin’ your teeth on grit when you eat! It ain’t like it will jes’ bounce off the side of the lettuces!”

“Uh… I’m sorry, Applejack, but I’m looking at the crates right now, and it certainly would. The lettuces are squished in any which way, there’s barely room for dirt to even get in.”

Applejack looked shocked. “Bring that over here! No, never mind, I can see it from where I am. Caramel!” she yelled. “Rainbow, y’all go get Caramel this instant! I will tan his hide, I will grow new legs jes’ to kick him with!”

“But what’s the matter?” said Twilight.

“The matter? What’s the matter? He’s crammed them crates full of lettuces to save himself a trip carryin’ em! They’re totally crushed, they’ll rot! Caramel, dammit!”

Twilight sighed. Not even the experienced farm workers were coping with this, except for Big Macintosh, and Twilight had already worked out his strategy. Mac had his head down, and was patiently shifting stacks of heavy wooden buckets, paying no attention to anything else.

“Dammit, Rarity, stop straightening the harnesses! We’re only gonna put them back on anyway!”

Twilight watched Rarity begin to snap a reply, and then bite it back again. The fashionable unicorn didn’t look so fashionable anymore—her coat had dirt marks all over it, and her mane was half uncurled. She’d been demonstrating a degree of self-control that Twilight found flatly astonishing, and clung to it even now.

Applejack seemed unimpressed. All of her attention was on the comedy of errors happening out in her fields, and she craned her neck, trying to see out the barn door, barking increasingly frantic orders at Rainbow Dash.

Dash acted as her lieutenant, her eyes and ears, and had begun the day full of self-importance and enthusiasm. Three failures to correctly identify seed types, two scoldings for sending worker ponies to the wrong part of the field, and a broken plow because Rainbow had tried to pull it through (and not around) “that big rock over to the south fields”, and Dash was a powder keg—still trying to act as Applejack’s lieutenant, but nearly as explosive as her Boss.

“Consarn it! We got to get the tilling and seeding done before th’ rainstorm, there won’t be another one for a week and time’s a wastin’! How am I s’posed to…”

Applejack froze.

“That’s it. That’s it! Big Macintosh, Rainbow Dash, you get some strong ponies together and you go and drag out the old gazebo! Set it right in the middle of th’ fields, I am going to be on it!”

Big Macintosh blinked. “Ain’t but a platform. The roof came off.”

“And that is exactly what I need!” said Applejack. “I’ll set myself in the middle of it, and I can watch everypony.”

Big Macintosh looked at her. She lay across a hay-bale, her legs outstretched rigidly in their casts. “Lay yourself in the middle of it, you mean?”

“Dammit, that ain’t gonna work,” said Applejack. “If I… now wait a minute! We still got them trusses from the old windmill?”

“Ayep.”

“Well, now, I ain’t rightly a windmill NOR a weathervane, but what if we set up them trusses and hung a nice rope—and we jes’ hang my hind end off’n the rope? That way I can turn around all I want, and see everythin’! No rear end required!”

Not five minutes later, ponies were positioning the gazebo at the center of the fields, at the top of a gentle hill. The view was fantastic. One could see all the way to the tree-line on all sides, and bask in the setting sun.

Nopony was basking in the sun, however—and it wasn’t because of the distant wall of cumulonimbus approaching.

“Hurry, consarn it, get a move on! Get them trusses up!”

Applejack ran as hard as she could, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy carrying her legs wheelbarrow-style. They had to fly to keep up—Twilight, watching, was again amazed at the determination and aggressiveness of the simple earth pony.

“The hell you starin’ at, girl? Git to work!”

Chastened, Twilight trotted back to the barn to fetch seeds and digging implements.

When she got back, they’d erected a tall tripod from steel trusses, and were already lifting Applejack onto the platform. Her hooves banged loudly on the deck. “Higher!” she demanded. “I stand up straight, do you hear me?” They complied, anxiously, and soon Applejack stood on the deck of the gazebo, nothing but steel trusses over her head, her hind legs suspended by a rope. She pivoted, staring out over the fields, able to rotate and see everything, and the ponies gazed up at her in delight at the wonderful trick they had accomplished… for about four seconds.

BANG!

Applejack had slammed the deck with a forehoof and was glaring at them, furious.

“Stop gawkin’ and git movin’!”

And the dream turned into a nightmare, for not even Rainbow Dash could move fast enough to please her, and she glowered down on them from her raised platform, banging it with her hooves to punctuate her orders—and she was nothing but orders.

“Them’s beans! You can’t rotate beans into alfalfa, that’s almost th’ same! Beans go to cabbage, don’t you know anythin’?”

“You got to get some chicken shit on the ground where th’new cabbages go…”

“What the… Where’d you get that, Rainbow? What? Damn it! Yes, I know I said chicken shit, but you got to use the composted! No, I ain’t tellin’ you until you pick the other chicken shit back up! It’ll burn th’ soil!”

“Dammit, Rainbow, stop leaving trenches, they’ll erode! All y’all are diggin’ up the ground like groundchuck varmints, you will destroy my drainage!”

“Yes, that’s fine, Rarity, I can see you ain’t diggin’ trenches. You are the one pony who ain’t wreckin’ the place. Your dedication to keepin’ th’ dirt pretty is servin’ you well. Trouble is, you’re consarned useless at everythin’ else so don’t git smug, missy!”

Rainbow Dash struggled to scrape up chicken shit without digging gouges in the ground. Passing by Rarity, she muttered, “Maybe this platform thing wasn’t such a good idea?”

Rarity’s eyes flashed. Her usually gleaming white coat was completely sullied with dirt from head to hoof, she’d scratched her flank and showed a smear of blood to go with the dirt, and she’d just been called useless and smug. She hissed, “Maybe this helping thing wasn’t such a good idea!”

“Come on,” whispered Twilight, glancing anxiously up at their cruel overseer. “Even if we can’t be as good as she is, we’ve got to try! …right?”

“We ARE trying!” yelled Rainbow Dash.

A bang interrupted her, and Applejack glared down at her.

“You’re very tryin’. Back ta work!”

Dash flapped her wings fiercely for a moment, and then resumed trying to scrape chicken shit back up without gouging the soil too much.

Pinkie Pie trotted up to the platform. “Look, Applejack, I found more alfalfa!”

“That’s nice, Pinkie, but…”

“We can plant it over here!” she cried, and began to gallop off, only to be stopped by an earth pony bellow.

“No! You may not plant more alfalfa! I don’t care that it tastes good, the soil over there won’t stand it! It’s got to be clover and rye!”

“Rye’s yucky,” complained Pinkie.

“Tough! Git back to th’…”

“Hey, Applejack,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Shut up, will you—git back to the barn, Pinkie, and the rye is in the big sacks with…”

“Applejack!” snapped Dash.

Applejack’s hooves were very loud as she rotated her body to face Dash.

“What?” she said, grimly.

“This is not working.”

Applejack stared at her. “What did you say?”

“I said, this is not working! You know what you need to do?”

Rainbow Dash, though very frustrated, had observations about cooperativeness and gratitude in mind. Applejack, however, had been staring desperately all over the fields and counting the things that had gone wrong, and she had different observations.

“I know fifteen things I need to do that I can see from here, and twelve of them is fixin’ messes you all made! Why do you got to be so hopeless? Why must you waste my time this way? This is serious!”

“Waste your time? Waste YOUR time?” sputtered Rainbow Dash.

“Can’t trust you ponies to do anything! If you can’t work right, I’ll do it myself, and you can get th’ hell out!”

Rainbow Dash snarled, “Maybe it escaped your attention, but…”

“Rainbow,” said Rarity. “A word, please?”

Dash glanced at Rarity, and was struck speechless. The fashion unicorn was bedraggled and soiled, and had plainly been attempting physical labor as well as the expected magic use.

Applejack was anything but speechless. “You got no word worth sayin’ to her. I been watchin’ you tidy rocks and such. Why don’t you go clean th’ dirt off my fields? Oh, wait, ain’t nothin’ BUT dirt…”

“Applejack!” snapped Twilight Sparkle. “You are making matters worse every second!”

“Seconds is jes’ what I ain’t got! Y’all got to stop whinin’ and get to doin’ stuff right, this minute, or it’s gonna be a real disaster…”

“It’s already a disaster!” yelled Dash.

“Rainbow Dash!” cried Twilight. “Everypony! Calm down and…”

“Git to work or git outta my sight!” roared Applejack, her teeth bared.

In the silence, Twilight looked back into her raging, desperate eyes, as everypony else looked to her for an answer.

She gulped.

“I think it’s gonna be the latter.”

And with that, Twilight led the other ponies back to the barn. It would’ve been easier if Applejack had kept raving and cursing them, but she didn’t. She glowered in silence, her teeth gritted hard, her gaze flicking out to all the things in the fields she had to do. The ponies jumped as she banged her hoof again, once, but she wasn’t looking at them, she was looking down.

As they entered the barn, Twilight looked back at her, and she was staring off at the approaching thunderclouds and paid no attention to them at all.

They shut her out, by closing the barn door. It wasn’t necessary, because Applejack was trapped out on the crest of her hill, surveying all her fields, and unable to move away from the steel trusses and the gazebo platform. They did it anyway.

“Are we going to go and get her?” asked Rarity. “If I remember correctly, Applejack is not fond of thunder. She came running back to your slumber party, remember, Twilight?”

“She’s not running anywhere. She can stew out there until she learns how to be nice,” said Rainbow Dash. “I don’t know what’s got into her—this is not MY Applejack.”

“If we’re going to help her we need her cooperation,” said Twilight, “because she’s simply antagonizing everypony. Big Macintosh, have you ever seen her like this?”

“Nope.”

Rarity turned to him. “Big Macintosh, have you found that Applejack is frightened of thunderstorms? It seemed to me that…”

“Will you shut up about the thunder?” said Rainbow Dash, and Rarity glared at her.

“All th’ Apple mares are deathly afraid of thunder,” said Big Macintosh. Then, as Rarity’s eyes widened, he added, “Except Applejack. She won’t turn a hair, jes’ ree-fuses to be frightened of anythin’. One tough mare, eyup.”

Rarity gave him a suspicious look, but Twilight was already speaking. “I’m sorry, but thunder is the least of our worries. I guess I should start by asking, is anyone here too frustrated with this to continue? It looks like we have to help Applejack in spite of herself, and, well, you’ve seen what it’s like. Not only that, we have to do it before the storm comes.”

“Nope,” said Big Macintosh.

Twilight blinked at him. “What do you mean? That’s what we’re here for.”

Big Macintosh blinked, placidly. “I mean, that’s why she’s upset. We can’t do it. There’s too much, ain’t enough ponies, and we ain’t all trained. If y’all had done exactly what she wanted, every step o’ the way… she might have had a chance. Too late now.”

Rainbow Dash glared at him. “Do you know how hard we tried to do just that?”

“Y’all did your best. No blame.”

Rainbow kept glaring for a moment—and then hung her head.

“But, then… what do we do?” asked Rarity. “There must be something we can do.”

“First—who’s still with us?” said Twilight, looking around. “This has been a really long day, and I wouldn’t blame anypony for being out of patience—especially since Big Macintosh says we can’t possibly finish. We need to figure out what we can do, and go convince Applejack to let us do only that. Um… maybe after she’s calmed down a little bit.”

“I’m done,” said Caramel. “I’ll square it with her later. I’m going home.”

At that, Dash glanced up, still glaring, but the look she shot him was more hurt than angry. “Fine!” she said.

Caramel glanced at the barn door, but to leave that way would require walking past the withering gaze of Applejack. There was a side door, and he thought for a moment and brightened—that one would get him out while keeping the whole barn between him and Applejack until he was far down the road. Caramel glanced apologetically around, and took his leave through that door, leaving it half open.

Rainbow sighed. “Well, Twilight did say he could go. I guess that makes sense. It’s no good trying to do this with ponies who aren’t ready to really fight for it, so it’s just as well he left… I guess.”

“Um, if you’re sure about that…”

Dash’s head whipped around to identify the new voice, and her dismay worsened. “Not you too, Fluttershy?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m really not going to be of any help. And I don’t want to be yelled at,” said Fluttershy. “I’d better go.” And she did, leaving the barn right after Caramel.

“Who else?” demanded Rainbow Dash.

“I’m going to go home and bake her a cake,” said Pinkie Pie. “If you ask me, she could use one!” She followed Caramel and Fluttershy.

“Great!” raged Rainbow Dash. “Just great! Who’s next? Big Macintosh?”

“Ayep.”

Dash’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. She’s your family!”

“Know her better’n most. Ain’t no pleasin’ her today. I’ll try again tomorrow,” said Big Macintosh, and he too left.

“I’m sure I heard thunder,” said Rarity, “and I really think you should check-”

“Not helping, Rarity! Instead of fussing over a little thunder, you need to be figuring out what sort of work we can still do out there in the time we have!”

Rarity stood her ground. “That is as may be! As a unicorn who has seen you yourself being petrified and unsuccessfully concealing the fact, I insist that you are making light of the situation…”

Suddenly, Rainbow Dash was in her face. “Oh, that would be easy, wouldn’t it, go and bring Applejack in here for hugs rather than get out and work more—right? Let me straighten you out, Rarity. Applejack is out there glaring at the dirt, expecting us to come back and do stuff right. Big Macintosh told us we haven’t got enough time. He knows that, I know that, now you know that. I’ve never seen Applejack act afraid of anything and Big Macintosh confirmed that she isn’t afraid of thunder, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rarity bridled. “I am sorry if you are not sophisticated enough to perceive the truth of such things! And Big Macintosh has departed the premises!”

“Yeah, we noticed! We also lost Fluttershy, and Pinkie, and Caramel, and it’s just me and you and Twilight at this point! And it’s getting dark really fast! The three of us have to work like six times as hard now if we’re gonna do this, so you know what? You can either shut up about Applejack’s nonexistent emotional problems, or you can get the buck out!”

Dash was inches from Rarity’s nose, and the once-elegant unicorn backed off—perhaps it was her soiled, unkempt state that helped to rattle her. She looked suddenly uncertain, with Dash contradicting her so rudely, and Big Macintosh’s opinion against hers. She dropped her head, glowered, kicked at the dirt of the barn floor with a forehoof and then made a face as she realized that it was, indeed, dirt and straw.

Twilight stared, in horror. Rarity was trembling, her teeth gritted, and the look she shot back at Dash was murderous. She seemed to be reaching a snapping point…

“Your mathematics,” snarled Rarity, “are every bit as bad as your deportment!”

And with that, Rarity stalked off, after the others, without once looking back. She left by the same side door the others had, but as her tail vanished from sight, a magic glow enveloped the doorknob—and yanked. The door slammed, and the sound echoed through the now-empty barn.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash stared at each other.

“Well, that went well!” said Twilight, and Rainbow Dash dropped to the ground in despair.

“What’re we gonna do? They all left! We’re never gonna do all that work for her now! She’s gonna kill me, just totally kill me! I promised I’d whip all those ponies into shape!”

“Um… I don’t think whipping is working that great for either you or Applejack…”

“You’re not helping!” wailed Dash.

“I’m not leaving,” said Twilight. “Shouldn’t that count for something?”

Dash didn’t answer. Then—“I guess.”

Twilight lay down beside Dash, nuzzling her cheek. “Now come on. You’re still here too. You’re the amazing Rainbow Dash, right? We can think of something to do for Applejack, even if it’s just getting her out of the rain.”

“I’m a featherbrain,” said Dash, barely listening. “She was counting on me. I totally blew it, I let her down. Why can’t I be as tough as Applejack?”

Twilight gave a sour look at the wall. “Nopony is. Believe me, it frustrates me too, Rainbow. She’s out there, disappointed in us for being so weak, and I’m just sitting in here trying to get up the courage to face her. I feel so insecure I could just scream. That’s one intimidating pony that we have to go and explain all this to.”

Rainbow Dash sniffled. “Actually I like that part—when I think I can be equal to it. Not now! Not after I’ve ruined everything! She’s never gonna speak to me again!”

Thunder rolled, punctuating the drama of Dash’s words. Twilight cringed, and said, “Um… Rainbow?”

“Oh, take it easy, Twilight. That’s just the storm the pegasus ponies are pushing through. The storm of my shame, because now it really is too late to do anything! We bucked up completely. Applejack must hate me now!”

“No, Rainbow, I mean… shouldn’t we go out and bring her inside?” Twilight gulped. “Whether or not she’s still mad? It’s getting scary.”

Rain began to hit the roof of the barn—and another thunderclap shook the walls, right nearby.

“It’s okay, we work with this stuff all the time. Just don’t land…” said Dash, and trailed off. Her eyes grew wide.

“We don’t fly!” protested Twilight, but Rainbow Dash was already running for the barn door, shoving it open.

The fields were dark, cloaked by thunderstorm clouds overhead, lit by ominous flashes in those clouds. Twilight galloped after Rainbow Dash, but was no match for the desperate pegasus pony’s speed. She heard an “I’m bucking sorry!” ahead, and saw Dash turning immediately to the knots on the rope holding Applejack up.

Applejack wasn’t moving, but she was standing. Twilight ran to her and saw she was staring, with a strained, furious, too-tense expression, off across the field. She followed Applejack’s gaze, and found a blasted tree at the end of it—lightning had struck a tree at the other end of the field as Applejack watched, dangling helplessly under a tower made of steel trusses. Applejack wasn’t blinking, as if she was in some sort of hate-trance. She barely seemed to register their presence.

That changed as Dash got the knots untied. Applejack’s casts thumped to the floor of the platform, and she lost her balance and fell over. The wind picked up, whipping the three ponies. The steel trusses, no longer held down by the weight of an earth pony’s hindquarters, creaked and toppled, falling to the side off the gazebo platform. As it went, one leg of the tripod thumped Applejack’s shoulder, and her body jerked as if the blow was jolting her back to reality. She looked around, disoriented, lying in the center of the platform with Dash and Twilight standing over her.

“You can be mad at us later,” said Twilight, “but for now—let’s get you in the barn where it’s safe.”

What happened then, shocked Twilight and Rainbow Dash to their cores. Applejack looked at them, dazed, making sense of what Twi had said—and then, as it sank in, she looked back across the field at the tree she’d seen struck by lightning, and her face twisted in anguish, and she began to scream in terror.

“Holy crap!” managed Rainbow.

“Quick, get her legs!” cried Twilight, for Applejack was thrashing, trying to drag herself off the platform. “I’ll try to lift her!”

Twilight’s help was needed, for Applejack was too panicked to run with just the use of her forelegs—again and again, she stumbled and fell, and Twilight used her magic to get her back to her hooves, Rainbow Dash carrying her plaster-encased hind legs, the two working together to guide the staggering, whinnying mare across the field towards the barn. At one point, she fell and tried to curl into a ball, and Twilight had to yell, “Get up! Keep going!” before she’d return to her panicked fleeing. Applejack’s terror was dreadful to behold, and contagious—Twilight was trembling and fighting off the urge to run ahead and take cover in the barn, and even Dash looked shaken.

They got her into the barn, and Dash dropped her hindlegs and pulled the heavy doors closed, but whirled at a cry of “Rainbow!” from Twilight.

Applejack wasn’t done fleeing. She was dragging herself across the ground, as lightning flashed and thunder rolled, and she was whinnying in terror still, her eyes wide and panicky.

“Where’s she going?” said Dash.

“I think she’s trying to get behind these hay bales, in this corner!”

“I’m on it!” said Dash. She swooped over and picked up Applejack’s hind legs again, her wings churning the air as she lifted the heavy casts and her marefriend’s body. Applejack was indeed trying to get behind the hay bales. Rainbow guided her as she scrabbled at the ground, taking cover in the most protected enclosed space in sight, and then called to Twilight. “Get over here! Let’s both get in here with her!”

They crammed in beside Applejack, and felt her body shake against them, and without saying a word to each other both ponies hugged their friend close. Applejack screamed at another thunderclap, and burst into wails and tears, shaking her head. She was trying to talk, but was quite incoherent. Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle lay with her, and waited for her to master herself enough to be able to speak.

When she did, her voice was broken and miserable. “Go away… leave me!”

“No,” said Rainbow Dash.

Twilight blinked. “Why on earth would you want that, Applejack?”

“Ah’m a damn coward…”

“Well,” said Rainbow, “I’m a featherbrain for letting you go through that alone.”

“You really are scared of thunder and lightning?” asked Twilight. “Even seeing you now, it’s still kind of hard to believe…”

Applejack glared through her tears. “Don’t you say them words, ever! It ain’t fair! I just… aieeee!” Another thunderclap tore the words from her mouth, and she gave up her argument and cried more.

“No, I think I get it,” said Rainbow Dash. “Rarity knew. I don’t know how, but she knew. Boss, why didn’t you say something?”

Applejack sniffled, and wiped her nose with the back of a hoof. “Ain’t no boss now.”

“Maybe not right now. Twilight, why did you say it was hard to believe?”

“Well… she was so tough and brave and secure!”

Applejack sobbed loudly, and tried to turn her face away from both Twilight and Dash at the same time. It wasn’t possible, so she turned to Dash, who covered her head with a wing protectively, saying “Hey! She IS tough and brave and secure. She’s boss of me, and this whole place. So there!”

Twilight marvelled. “I know, I know! It’s amazing—it’s like it’s not even the same pony.”

“But she is. Less talking. More hugging.”

Twilight Sparkle looked down, abashed. She had a sense that her words weren’t helping, which did happen sometimes, and this wasn’t a good time for it. She cuddled up to Applejack on the other side, noticing that the earth pony was still shuddering, but had stopped hyperventilating. Twilight nodded to herself—that was good. Hyperventilating was a sign of panic and would make it harder for Applejack to calm herself. She’d read that in a book. The book hadn’t mentioned the feel of a pony body shaking in terror, or the smell of fear, which lingered and made Twilight feel worried apart from the scary thunder and lightning.

Applejack had refused to panic even while suspended under a metal structure out in the storm, watching a tree get blasted to flinders in front of her. She’d commanded her fear even when she had no hope of rescue, apparently choosing to die on her hooves, holding her chin up, facing her doom like the Boss she was. It was when safety became an option that she’d broken down completely. Now, she cowered against Rainbow Dash in shame, and peeked out from under Dash’s wing at Twilight.

“She’s the toughest pony ever,” said Rainbow.

“I ain’t,” managed Applejack.

“Hey, listen. It’s easy for me to enjoy lightning when, hello, I can fly! It just makes my feathers all stick out for a minute. We learn to take to the air—you do not want to be touching the ground during this! I have to admit it’s making me nervous because I know I should be flying for my own safety. You live on the ground all the time. It’s different!”

Applejack turned to Dash. “You’re on th’ ground now. Shouldn’t ya—get safe? Pegasus style?”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Applejack’s eyes teared up again. “I don’t deserve this. How can y’all ever look on me again after today?”

“Oh,” said Dash, smirking affectionately, “I’ll manage.”

“I think I’m starting to understand,” said Twilight. “It’s partly a front, right? You’re just pretending? You’re not really all that fearless and secure like you seem, are you?”

Applejack snorted, stung by the accusation. “Even if it’s true, you got a lot of nerve—EEEEE!” Another thunderclap hit close by, interrupting her. When she could breathe again, she stuck to simpler words. “Nope.”

Rainbow Dash cuddled her closer, and spoke to Twilight. “Yes she is—as much as any of us. Rarity knows. She saw me being terrified, it’s the same thing. I guess you never learned that, Twilight? It’s not about not having any fears. It’s about being able to endure them when you have them.”

Applejack’s body jolted at another bright flash of lightning, and she pressed closer to Rainbow Dash, then jerked back. “Ow! Dashie, your hoof’s all edges!”

At this, Rainbow Dash looked sulky and uncomfortable. “Sorry. Can we not talk about that? Again, same thing, though—I’ll tell you that much.”

She moved her hoof out of the way and Applejack returned to her previous closeness. Twilight got a glimpse of the hoof and blinked—it was overgrown and badly in need of a farrier’s care.

“So… it’s about enduring your fears even though you have them? Is that it?”

“I guess you can endure in different ways,” said Dash. “But listen, Twilight! This is how it always is. We’re all just ponies, you know? You should feel honored to be here and see something nopony ever gets to see. Applejack is always tough no matter what, and doesn’t show these feelings to just anypony.”

“Gosh,” said Twilight. “Is it worth it? I always show my insecurities to everypony, so they’ll pay attention and listen. I can’t even help it sometimes. I have to make ponies understand what I feel.”

“Not all of us want to do that, okay?” said Rainbow Dash. “When you’re like me and you want to be a little larger than life…”

“A lot,” came a voice from under her wing.

“Okay, so a lot… well, it doesn’t really fit with the image, does it? You want to see your feelings taken seriously. We want to see our awesomeness taken seriously. Twilight, sometimes you freak out so hard that only Rarity compares to it—and she’s faking half of that!”

Twilight sulked. “I guess. I hate feeling like I’m more scared than everypony.”

“Why do you think we try to avoid it?” said Dash.

“Right,” said Twilight.

Applejack looked out from under Dash’s protective wing. “Aw… sugarcube, does it help y’all to know it’s no different for me? Maybe this weren’t such a bad thing after all.”

“I guess so,” said Twilight. The storm was moving on, though it still rumbled and crashed around them. “You’re saying that you ponies just handle it a different way than I do.”

“Maybe we can teach her!” said Rainbow Dash. “We can make Iron Twilight! Unwavering, confident, self-assured…”

Twilight stared back at her as if Dash had gone mad. Twilight’s ear quirked in an expression of astonishment. Her eye twitched, her jaw dropped incredulously.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack looked at each other. “No,” they said, in chorus.

Applejack shook her head. “No need! You jes’ be yourself, sugar.” She was plainly pulling herself together to be strong for Twilight, who gulped, moved by the sight as Applejack continued bravely on. “Look at you, even if you kick up a fuss ever’time we turn around, you tried your best to help me this day, and when it turned into the worstest night ever, you’re still with me, ain’t ya? You din’t leave me. Uh… you ain’t gonna leave me?” Her voice quavered as her bravery got exhausted again and quit.

“No way!” said Twilight. “I’m sticking right here!”

“And you, Applejack,” said Rainbow Dash, drawing her close again, “you be your real self. It’s just us here, we won’t make fun of you.”

“Reckon it’s a bit late to be anythin’ else, to be honest,” said Applejack. “Ya promise not to tell th’ others? Please don’t tell th’ others…”

“We won’t,” said Twilight.

They sat. Another thunderclap shook the barn. It was coming from farther away, by now.

Applejack trembled. “Ain’t… quite ready ta come out, either.”

“We’ll get through this together,” said Rainbow Dash. “Take as long as you want.”

Applejack peered out into the barn, seeing the scuffed dirt on the floor where she’d clawed her way towards her hiding spot, the furrows where she’d dragged her broken legs behind her. They hurt like a bastard now, thanks to all her struggles, though the casts had held. They’d been hurt in the first place because she’d been too tough to admit she was overstrained, and… well, she’d overstrained them for a good reason, or it seemed like one.

If Dashie had really been in danger on that night they visited the old castle, her toughness would have made all the difference. For at least a moment, it had. She’d held the portcullis up when it mattered—and then some.

At the time, she was too distracted to acknowledge that it hurt—or that she was frightened. When her legs had been set, everypony was too alarmed at the situation to care that she’d been upset, and she’d put the mask of iron pony on again as soon as she could. And in the field, she’d tried her very best to overcome her broken legs and still be the iron pony, and she’d only stampeded her friends into flustered uselessness and been mad at them for it.

She looked around. Most of ‘em had gone home, which wasn’t surprising, but they weren’t to know. Twilight—and Dashie—remained with her, even though she wasn’t anything like an iron pony anymore. The others might still be fooled, but these ponies had seen the truth.

Applejack’s eyes were sad. She’d done such damage, to herself and to her friends, trying to stay Iron Pony. Well… if she didn’t have that any longer, there was at least something she still had to offer, and there was no time like the present to start.

“Thank y’all. Ah mean it—thank you.”

Applejack hunkered down, and let Twilight and Dash shelter her while the storm faded.

Dashie Visits The Farrier

Rarity’s fainting couch had many uses. One turned out to be supporting the casts on an earth pony’s hind legs. It was ideal for the purpose, though the casts were not ideal for it—soiled by farm dirt and mud, they left untidy marks on the upholstery, and the fashion unicorn was plainly horrified by this result, though it had been her idea.

Applejack gulped. “I cleaned off them things as much as I could… well, Dashie did, I can’t reach ‘em. Awful sorry about messin’ up your nice couch—an’ again, sorry for bein’ such a pain the other day. Dashie’s sorry too, though it’s my fault really. We’re goin’ around sayin’ sorry to everypony, an’ I hope it makes you feel better ‘cause it’s real important.”

Rarity smiled, her coat gleaming white once more. “Quite all right, darling. I dare say we all needed to sleep on it, no?”

Applejack nodded. “Yeah! Uh, I mean, no! Er… let’s jes’ say that we sure did need to sleep on it? You look fine, Rarity, and again, thank you for all your efforts…”

Rarity’s smile was a little forced. “Ahaha! Yes. For my looks, you must thank the efforts of Aloe and Vera at the spa. I quite exhausted them, I fear, but they performed like grooming champions.”

“Funny you should mention it,” said Applejack, “cause we’re jes’… ow! Dashie!”

Dash looked innocent, though she had just kicked Applejack’s foreleg. “What?”

Applejack glared at her. “Seriously? I can’t even say… all right, all right. Rarity, again we thank you, and we’re jes’ goin’ out to enjoy th’ nice day.”

Rarity’s little half-smile admitted nothing. “Of course. Enjoy it in good health, both of you, and thank you for the charming and gracious apologies. Ta-ta!”

Outside, they paused while Dash adjusted her grip, her forelegs wrapped around Applejack’s hind legs. Her face was nuzzled into Applejack’s silky blonde tail, and her wings beat strongly, supporting both her weight and her marefriend’s hindquarters complete with the weight of the casts. Rainbow Dash had no trouble with this—certainly not the tail nuzzling, but no trouble with the weight either, because Rainbow Dash flew everywhere and rarely touched the ground anymore.

Applejack had learned why, the previous night.

They’d gone to bed, Rainbow helping her get in, and Applejack had asked Dash to stay. That wasn’t unusual. But Rainbow Dash had landed for a moment, taken a step towards the bed, winced, limped, and taken wing again just to move a few feet—and Applejack had seen her.

“Dashie, the hell? Show me your hoof.”

“Nah, it’s…”

“Show me!”

It had been five minutes of argument at the end of a very long day. Applejack thought, for a while, that Dash was simply going to fly off in a huff—but finally, she had allowed Applejack to inspect her hooves, and all was revealed.

Dash flew everywhere because she had to, and that was the direct result of flying everywhere, flying nearly every waking minute. Her hooves were flared out, overgrown, hadn’t even been walked on: as a result, they almost couldn’t be walked on. Applejack cursed herself for not noticing earlier. The problem was in plain sight, but they’d all grown used to how Dash looked, and she’d never complained.

Now, she had reason to, for her right forehoof was actually cracked up the middle. She needed a pony farrier desperately, yet she hadn’t seen one.

“How did this happen?”

“Stupid cliff…”

Dash had explained that for hoof care she flew out to a particular rocky cliff and kicked it. Applejack’s jaw had dropped, and Dash put on a sulky look and refused to explain further, until ten more minutes of argument dragged the truth out of her.

Rainbow Dash had split her hoof against this cliff, desperately trying to wear her hooves down so she would not have to see the farrier.

“I don’t like ponies touching my hooves, okay?”

“Sugarcube, I’ve touched your hooves.”

“But not with… the clippers…”

More truth came out. Rainbow Dash had a raging phobia of the farrier, and his scary and intimidating tools.

It was a little bit understandable. Little colts and fillies often feared the farrier. The files, the hoof-knives, and most alarming, the big chomping clippers that could bite huge chunks out of your hoof—there was no sensation in the hoof itself, but the grinding crunch and the gruesome kachunk as the clipper’s teeth met, nipping off big lumps of keratin, took some getting used to. Applejack had no special fondness for the farrier, but considered it part of keeping in good health, and her hooves were working farm implements that required special consideration. Clopforth considered her an exemplary pony regarding hoof care. She tended to get under-run heels because of her applebucking posture, but he kept it in check.

Rainbow Dash did no hoof care at all—other than bucking at cliffs—and flew everywhere she went. The situation was grim.

Now, Applejack and Rainbow Dash hesitated outside the Carousel Boutique, because that had been the last stop of the day… almost. Applejack glanced back at Dashie, who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Ya promised…”

“Yeah yeah,” said Dash, unhappily.

“Are you sure ya want Aloe and Vera? They ain’t exactly professionals, not of this. I swear by Clopforth…”

“No! Not the farrier! I’ll have them do it. Not him!”

Applejack sighed. “Well, all right, honey.”

She trotted off towards the spa, not too quickly, Dash bringing up her rear. As she trotted, she talked. “I promise, it’ll be wonderful. First of all, we got to deal with them hooves to let that crack heal. That gits worse, you could lose a hoof, and I am not standin’ for that…”

“If I drop your ass in the dirt you won’t be standing at all,” said Rainbow Dash, but she did no such thing. She flew steadily on, holding up Applejack’s hindquarters, her only sign of distress the look in her eyes and the skittish flicking of her tail.

“You’ll enjoy standin’ again. Won’t that be nice? I always feel like jes’ running around for the sheer pleasure of it, when I’ve had my hooves done. Get ‘em nice and even and it’s like you got an extra sure footing. You could run all day.”

“I’d rather fly all day.”

“Yeah,” said Applejack, “and look where that got you! You’d better do at least some runnin’. No more buckin’ cliffs! Even I wouldn’t buck no cliff, crazy pony.”

“My hoof still hurts.”

“It’ll heal up—once we get it taken care of. Right, Dashie?”

Rainbow Dash grunted, and Applejack didn’t press her further.

At the spa, Aloe blinked, looking out the door. A strange procession was arriving—no, it wasn’t a procession, it was just Applejack, who trotted up with her rear end sporting wings. Closer inspection revealed the wings belonged to Rainbow Dash, and Aloe tittered to her sister Vera, and then turned to her new guests. “Greetings, Rainbow Dash! Are you bringing us a new customer? We thank you!”

Applejack smirked. “I think y’all mixed up the bring-er and the bring-ee, to be honest…”

“Oh!” blinked Vera. “Really? Rainbow Dash is here? Honored, I’m sure…”

“Don’t get used to it,” said Dash, laying Applejack’s hindquarters on a couch and landing very gently, still with a visible wince.

“It’s like to an ee-mergency, sugar,” said Applejack. “How are you on hooves?”

“We’re good at polishing and touch-up, of course,” said Aloe.

“Din’t mean that. Show ‘em, Dashie.”

Rainbow stood uncomfortably. Applejack narrowed her eyes.

“If you expect to use these nice mares instead ‘a Clopforth… show ‘em!”

At that, Rainbow Dash lifted her cracked, overgrown hoof for Aloe and Vera to see. Their eyes widened, and they moved in closer, causing Dash to back up against Applejack, who remarked “Steady, pony girl…”

“This is terrible,” said Aloe.

“This is horrific!” said Vera.

They glanced at each other and nodded. “This is a job for Clopforth-” and then ducked, for a light blue projectile pegasus flung itself past them in an attempt at escape, the instant they’d got the word out… and stopped, with a twang, as Applejack lunged and snapped at Dash’s tail with practiced expertise.

“Oh no y’ don’t!”

“Let go!” squealed Dash, flapping frantically.

“No!”

Aloe and Vera cowered back, glancing at each other. Dash noticed their alarm, and fought for self-control. She came back down to another wincing landing, observing the spa ponies’ delicate cringes as her damaged hoof took her weight. Their hooves were insultingly pristine. They seemed to be conferring without even uttering a word.

“Fine,” said Dash. “See? I’m calm. Now, are they going to help me or not?”

“I’m thinkin’ yeah,” replied Applejack, still without releasing Dash’s tail.

Aloe and Vera looked at each other some more, and then glanced at Applejack, together, their faces a stereogram of woe. Applejack gave them a level gaze back, and one word of command. “Go!”

They rushed off madly, leaving Applejack and Rainbow Dash alone in the spa.

“What are they going to get?” said Dash.

“Ain’t so much what, as who.”

“Oh, no, nooo….”

“Now you listen!” said Applejack, through gritted teeth. “I saw their faces. Them’s some nice mares an’ ain’t no fools, neither. You need real help or y’all be crippled, right quick. You set tight. Soon be over.”

“Fine!” wailed Dash. “Awesome! Let’s get it over with!”

“Yep.”

“And you can let go of my tail now!”

“Nope,” said Applejack.

Rainbow Dash pivoted, wincing at each little step, and gave Applejack an imploring, adorable look, her eyes wide and irresistible. “Awwww… c’mon, don’t you trust me?”

Applejack was implacable, though her eyes were soft. “Darlin’, I love you. Worse’n that—I know you. Nothin’ doin’.”

Dash sagged in despair. “You said it’ll be over soon?”

“Hard ta say. But I will tell you this—he’s good, real good.”

Already, pounding hooves could be heard in the distance, and Applejack winced. “Reckon he’ll need ta dial it down a notch, though. Don’t you panic, I got this. I’ll straighten him out.”

Through the door came a massive black earth pony stallion, with heavy, clanking saddlebags and a shiny eyebolt literally set into his right forehoof. He pranced, beaming, and his voice boomed, “I came as fast as I could! Now who do I…”

“Clopforth!” snapped Applejack, as Rainbow Dash shrank back against her.

“Wait, don’t tell me—Rainbow Dash! Oh, my, look at those…”

“CLOPFORTH!”

The farrier stopped, and looked at her. “Yes, Applejack?”

Applejack just glared at him, still holding Dash’s tail. She felt Dash’s body pressed against her, shaking. Dash stood about three seconds of the resulting silence—and sank to the floor with a wail, bursting into tears and trying to hide her head under her forehooves.

Applejack’s eyes never left Clopforth’s. “Little respect for th’ feelings of my friend. My special friend. You be quiet. None of your Clopforthy ways this time.”

The farrier blinked, and looked down, abashed. “I’m sorry, Applejack. It’s one of those ones? You know, like a little filly?”

Rainbow wailed harder, and Applejack glared at him. “Think real hard, sugar. An’ yeah—kind of. Maybe worse. I don’t know exactly why.”

Clopforth sagged a little. “Usually it’s impatient parents—rushing the practitioner through things, and they make a mistake. Or the kid flinches and it turns into a wrestling match. I’ve heard of a kid yanking his hoof away with a hoof-knife still in it, and trying to run off.” He winced. “Bad business. Miss Dash got something like that as a filly, did she?”

“I reckon,” said Applejack. “Something like that.”

“Impatient parents?”

“Maybe worse,” said Applejack, thinking back on Dash’s amazing lack of family connection. “That ain’t the point. Point is, you gotta help us.”

“Of course,” said the farrier, solemnly. “How should I go about it?”

“First,” said Applejack, “shut that door.”

He did, and Applejack turned to the cowering, sobbing Dash. “Sugarcube, let’s get this over with. You listen—he’ll do whatever I say, and you know we got to go through with it, don’t you?”

Dash nodded, tearfully, peeking out from behind her hooves.

“So we need you to stand and hold up your hoof for the…”

“Actually,” said Clopforth, “I’m very good with these ca… in these situations. I can work in any position she can stand. Doesn’t mean she has to literally stand.”

Rainbow Dash seemed to get even smaller, on the floor, as if she thought he could come and start nipping at her right where she lay. She whimpered, “I want…”

“Want what, sugar?”

“I want a hug. Notfromhim!” she squeaked, and scrabbled back a few inches. Clopforth sighed.

“Mind th’ door, Clopforth. You stand over there. Dashie—c’mere.”

Applejack released Dash’s tail, heaved herself backwards on the couch, and held out her forelegs. Dash stood, wobbling and wincing, and gave her a worried look.

“I said hug. I didn’t mean hold me down…”

Applejack’s eyes were sad. “Would you believe a lil’ of both?”

Rainbow Dash’s wings fluttered anxiously. “But I really want a hug… and I didn’t want him to see me like this, I didn’t want anypony to see me like this…”

“He don’t hold it against ya.”

“I won’t,” rumbled Clopforth, at a safe distance. “About one out of ten ponies get this, Miss Dash.”

That got her attention, and she looked over at him, her eyes wide. “Really?”

The farrier nodded solemnly. “Really.” He willed his face into seriousness, refusing to let it reveal his exaggeration. At the levels of anxiety Rainbow was experiencing, the numbers were more like one in ten thousand, but technically one in ten did suffer anxiety, so it wasn’t a lie.

“Gosh,” said Rainbow.

“Now, come on, Dashie,” said Applejack. “Ya know I can’t chase you. I need you to get off’n this couch, in fact. But more’n that, I need you to get better…”

Rainbow Dash turned to face her, and managed a weak laugh. “The tables are turned, huh? I remember you had me hold you when… when your legs broke.”

“I was meaning to ask about that,” said Clopforth. “Why the casts? How are you able to do your farm work?”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “It’s a long story…”

Rainbow laughed harder. “A long and ugly story!”

“You’re right, though, sugarcube,” said Applejack. “Th’ tables are turned—and now I need to hold you, an’ I need you to be th’ brave one.”

Rainbow Dash took a hesitant step towards her, and stopped. “I’m… not as brave as you.”

“Here’s hopin’ you’re not as dumb as me neither!”

“And… that hurt you a lot worse than what you’re asking me to get through.”

“There’s all kinds of hurt, sugar,” said Applejack gently. “Whatever the kind, how about we git us through it? You can explain more—afterwards.”

Rainbow Dash hesitated more—and then, in a rush, she ran to the couch and flung herself into Applejack’s embrace, joining her marefriend in spoon-fashion with her back to Applejack’s body, Applejack’s forelegs wrapping her, and with her legs sticking out stiffly. Dash’s body trembled, and Applejack could feel her heart pounding.

“Tighter!” begged Dash.

Applejack obediently clutched Rainbow to her, and chuckled. “You got your legs all stickin’ out! It’s like you’re askin’ me to restrain you…”

At that, Dash twisted her head around to glare at Applejack. “Of course I am, stupid! Don’t let go! Let’s do this!”

“Come along now, Clopforth,” said Applejack.

He looked quizzically at her. “Would it help if… I, you know, showed her the tools and stuff? Like you might do with a…”

He caught a glare from Dash and a longsuffering look from Applejack, who said, “Naw. I reckon she knows that stuff. Just you git started, we got this.”

Clopforth sighed again. “If you say so…”

“You be careful,” said Applejack to him—and to Dash, “YOU be good.”

“All right, all right!” said Rainbow, angrily, and then she fell silent, her eyes wide and panicky as the farrier approached.

He had the fearsome nippers clamped tightly in his mouth, one handle sticking out in an ungainly arc, a hook on the end catching the light. As he settled into position, a look of concentration in his eye, he lifted his hoof and the eyebolt in it made a matching glint, and then a delicate metallic clank as he latched it onto the hook at the end of the nippers. Clopforth’s teeth bared slightly around the sturdy wooden handle as he moved in, positioning the nippers, a task made more difficult by Rainbow’s trepidation. As he got closer and closer to her poised forehoof, she kept drawing it back further, and further…

“Uh…” said Applejack, but she was too late.

When the shining steel of the nipper’s blades touched Dash’s hoof, she squealed and kicked with blinding speed, and continued to thrash and squeak as Applejack struggled to hold her. Past the blur of thrashing pegasus pony, Applejack could see the farrier reeling back, dropping his tools, cursing. He’d dropped to the floor and wasn’t getting up.

“Clopforth? Clopforth!”

“Urgh! It’s okay! My… ow… mistake!”

When he rose into sight again, Applejack gasped. Rainbow had clobbered him—socked him in the eye with a hoof. It was already swelling shut, turning into a proper black eye.

“You call that okay? Dashie, you apologize!”

“No, it’s my fault!” insisted the farrier. “She’s just too fast, I should have known better!”

“And how could you have known that?” said Applejack. She continued to hang onto Dash, and demanded, “You settle down, missy! Look what you done!”

“But I did know,” said Clopforth, and there was something in his tone—something that stopped Applejack’s scolding, and even got the attention of Rainbow Dash, so that she quieted her struggles just enough to hear what he’d say.

He cleared his throat.

“Miss Dash, I had the honor of attending the Young Flier’s competition. Three pegasus friends and clients carried me so I could see it. I’d never seen anything so wonderful in all my life, and I thought it was the experience of a lifetime—and then, it was time for the final acts.”

Dash had frozen as soon as she got a sense of what he was telling her, and she stared out of tear-streaked eyes as he continued.

“I watched you do the impossible, create the Sonic Rainboom—and save the lives of four ponies, including three Wonderbolts, who are my favorite pegasus acrobatics team and the reason I’d come to Cloudsdale that day… so I should know how fast you can be, and how determined.”

Dash wiped her nose with a hoof, sniffling. “You’re… a fan of me? And the Wonderbolts? Oh gosh, like this couldn’t get worse…”

Clopforth gazed levelly at her. “I am. And that’s how I know you can be brave—and I hope you’re ready to be brave again. I’ll do my part and keep out of range of those incredibly fast hooves, but I hope you can be as determined as me. Do you know why I say that?”

“Uhhh… no?” said Rainbow Dash.

“Because if I can’t help you nopony can—and if nopony helps you, you’re going to end up crippled the way you’re going,” said Clopforth. “And I will not let that happen. No matter what it costs me, I am going to save your hooves.”

Rainbow stared back at him, jaw hanging open. It was a dramatic pronouncement, but just the sort of dramatic pronouncement she always wished she could say, and it underscored the seriousness of her situation. She gulped, and turned to ask Applejack, “Is he for real?”

“Yep,” said Applejack. “Go figure, you know a fellow for years an’ suddenly this. If he asks for your autograph, I’ll kick him myself. Do you think you can avoid killin’ the poor thing so he can work?”

Dash gulped again, looking back at the farrier. Unsteadily, she said, “I’m gonna hold my hooves out as straight as I can. That way, if I snap again, I can’t hit you. I hope I don’t break your mouth through that nipper thing. I’ll try my best.”

Applejack blinked. “You mean that, sugar?”

Dash twisted around again. “Hold me really tight, Applejack!”

“You bet,” said her marefriend, and clamped on for all she was worth. “Yeeha!”

Dash’s body was always awkward to hold, coltish and unrelaxed, but now it was ridiculous, like holding a statue. Clopforth moved in with grim determination, squinting through his one good eye, and positioning the clippers against Dash’s outstretched, trembling hoof. His own eyebolt-fitted hoof latched onto the tool, bore down…

Applejack felt Dash’s body jolt as if she’d had a thousand heart attacks at once, right when the clippers met and crunched off a chunk of hoof. Applejack knew that was a funny sensation—the grinding kachunk took some getting used to. She wondered if she should mention this to Clopforth, and even opened her mouth to say it, but he was already making a second clipper-bite in a feverish concentration, and it became apparent that he’d noticed.

The farrier had a gentle touch, Applejack knew, though that didn’t usually enter into it. This occasion was different. Applejack blinked, while still holding Dash tightly. Clopforth’s eyebolt had made a strange clinking noise against the handle as he closed the jaws of the clipper the last little bit, and that time Dash hadn’t shuddered. He’d managed to modulate the pressure so adeptly that there was no final crunch—a gentle wiggling of the tool, and another chunk of hoof came away, this time in silence.

“Dang,” said Applejack. “Whyn’cha do that on me, Clopforth?”

“Shh. You don’t need it.”

Applejack fell silent, watching his performance. He sweated, working with incredible speed and precision, attending one outstretched hoof after another without a pause, and lumps of light-blue keratin fell quietly to the floor around him with gentle clunks.

And all the while, Rainbow Dash held herself rigid, her heart pounding and her eyes squeezed shut, and didn’t even squirm, much less kick or squeal.

“Miss Dash?” came the farrier’s voice.

“Whuh?” managed Rainbow.

“I’ve put the clippers away, Miss Dash.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes flew open, to see Clopforth’s smiling face, though the effect was a little spoiled by the black eye.

“If that was all you can take, you can be done. The rest is just cosmetic,” he said.

“Really?” squeaked Dash. She looked at her hooves, and they looked like regular hooves again. “Oh my gosh!”

“Now hang on, there,” said Applejack, though she did the opposite—she let go of Dash. “She don’t rate cosmetic? I happen to think Rainbow would look real fine with pretty hooves. Hell, son, you do so good with mine, I wouldn’t ever need to come to this spa here on account of that.”

“Of course she can have the knife work and polishing if she wants, but she’s done so well already…”

“It wouldn’t be as bad… not as bad as the clippers.” Rainbow peered around as if fearing they would leap out from some hidden spot and attack her. “The other things make me think of the clippers. And… and I did the clippers. Didn’t I?”

“You sure as sugar did, darlin’! Does that mean ya want to be pretty now, too?”

“Oh, like I’m not?” retorted Dash. “You take that back!”

“Aw… got me there, sweetie, you’re real pretty. Now—about them hooves?”

Dash glared at her, and then smirked. “Fine. After all that, this is nothing. You don’t even have to hold me. You do have to pet me.” With a flourish, she extended a forehoof to the farrier once more.

“Ya don’t have to ask me twice,” said Applejack, and stroked Rainbow’s no longer shivering sides while Clopforth, a sturdy and sharp hoof-knife in his teeth, groomed her hooves attentively, shaping them into pristine cerulean semicircles. When he was done, he smoothed them with a rasp, and finished up with a polish. Rainbow’s body was less tense for the hoof-knife work, though Applejack knew why—Clopforth’s knives were so sharp that she’d never felt any tugging or scraping when he used them. When the rasp came out, Rainbow tensed again, and gritted her teeth dreadfully, but Clopforth noticed this and cut that stage short, replacing it with delicate hoof-knife work and turning to the final polish early.

Finally, he inspected his work, squinted his one good eye, nodded, and said, “Congratulations—you’re now the owner of a set of state-of-the-art hooves. I think you’ll find the split one won’t trouble you too much. I’ve got the base slightly convex so your weight is no longer prying it wider. Try it.”

Rainbow Dash glanced back at Applejack, as if she had the final authority over whether it was okay to get up. She got a smile and nod, and rolled off the couch, her wings flaring out in readiness, hooves hitting the floor—and her eyes widened, as Clopforth beamed in delight.

“Oh my gosh!” said Dash. She trotted in place, then banged the floor with her cracked hoof in disbelief. “This is incredible!”

Clopforth’s grin threatened to burst from his face. Behind Dash, Applejack’s grin threatened to become weepy and wobbly, as she watched her marefriend prance.

Rainbow Dash whirled, tail up and flicking. “Race ya home, Applejack!” she teased.

From behind her, she heard a gulp, and looked around to see Clopforth, eyes wide and staring, ears back—and then glanced back hastily, as Applejack had burst out laughing.

“Serves you right for makin’ her too pretty!”

“Oh, right, like I could be too sexy?” protested Rainbow, and frisked in a circle while they laughed, the tension of the last hour evaporating.

“Now,” said Applejack, “what do you say?”

Dash settled down, and turned bashfully to the farrier. Her eyes dropped, but all that did was show her the scary eyebolt set into his hoof. When her eyes met his again, they were filled with apology and sympathy—and then, she’d lunged forward and nearly knocked him over with a hug, with her wings demurely folded, but nuzzling under his chin.

“Thank you so much, and I’m sorry I’m such an idiot and hit you and stuff…”

“It’s okay,” said Clopforth, hugging her back. “Something to remember you by.”

“Please don’t tell anypony!”

“He won’t,” said Applejack. “Right, Clopforth?”

“I promise,” he said.

The hug stretched on, until Applejack cleared her throat and said, “Makin’ new friends?”

At that, Clopforth broke away with an apologetic glance at Applejack. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that Rainbow has allowed me to help her. With her hooves.”

“Yep,” said Applejack archly. “I know we appreciate it. I reckon that’ll do. Thank you, Clopforth.”

He gathered up his things and trotted off, and Applejack turned to Rainbow Dash with an understanding but exasperated smirk.

“Honestly, Dashie, y’all winkin’ at th’ farrier? Really?”

“Hey, I kept my wings to myself!” protested Dash. “Didn’t I?”

“No, it’s all right—but what on earth could you be thinkin’?”

“Well,” said Dash, and paused for thought. “The thing is… I can’t let it get to that state again. I have to be able to see him without flying away at a million miles an hour. So it’s sort of like hugging the boogy-man, and I wanted to remember that hug.”

“Jes’ hugging?” said Applejack.

Rainbow shrugged with her wings. “Busted. I’ll think whatever I have to—if it’ll help me get over my fear. Don’t you dare tell him! Even I have limits. I mean, he’s the farrier!”

Applejack stared—and laughed. “That was all so you could distract yourself with other thoughts—and start doin’ hoof care right for a change?”

“Hey, if I have my own way of doing things, you shouldn’t complain. I’m doing it for you. That and my hoof hurts… or it used to. Now it’s great!”

“Well, that’s th’ important thing,” said Applejack. “Shall we go?”

“After this,” said Dash—and hugged Applejack, even more lingeringly, while saying “Thank you. I didn’t think I could do it, but you stuck with me.”

“Course I did,” said Applejack, her voice soft and tender.

Rainbow Dash gave a sigh, and then flew up into position as Applejack clambered off the couch, and swooped down to seize Applejack’s immobilized legs, nuzzling into her silky tail as before and flapping her wings to support both her weight and Applejack’s hindquarters—and the two headed back to Sweet Apple Acres.

As they headed down the street, Applejack turned her head to look back at Rainbow.

“Ah am SO proud of you!”

She chuckled as Dash’s cerulean wings revved up in delight, unthinkingly hoisting her ass to awkward heights for a moment.

“Oops,” said Dash, and they headed on their way.