Applejack knew all of the sounds associated with Sweet Apple Acres. She’d heard them a thousand times before, probably even more’n that, so she automatically tuned them all out. Just one out of place noise, though, could get her attention as fast as an oncoming storm.
She’d spent the day bucking in the depths of the south orchard and headed for home when the shadows grew long under the late afternoon sun. The small load of apples in her cart weighed her down more than it should have. This part of the orchard hadn’t been bucked yet this year, but she’d had to work a lot harder than she should’ve to get less than pleasing results. It bothered her.
Her tousled mane bothered her as well. At least she could do something about that right now. She took off her hat, and just as she was about to shake her mane out in the breeze, she heard something that definitely wasn’t a standard Sweet Apple Acres sound.
She couldn’t quite put her hoof on what it was, because when she strained she only heard her own breathing and steady heartbeat loud in her ears. When she told herself to relax, though, she heard it again: smidgens of a sweet-toned voice, almost like the wind was singing to itself.
Previous concerns forgotten, she followed the sound to its source. The rustling leaves at the tops of the trees faded from hearing as the air grew still. The strange sound resolved into a real voice that sounded familiar. Before Applejack recognised the voice by ear, she saw Fluttershy. Her friend was standing right beside one of the apple trees, and seemed to be speaking quietly to someone Applejack couldn’t see. An animal friend, probably.
“Fluttershy?” Applejack said, upsetting the quiet atmosphere.
Squealing at the shock interruption, Fluttershy leaped straight into the air and latched on to the lowest branch of the tree.
“Sorry, sugarcube, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” Applejack said immediately, offering her friend an apologetic smile and then unfastening the cart harness.
“Oh, Applejack, it’s only you.” Fluttershy relaxed and let go of the branch, drifting back down to the ground. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” Fluttershy said. “I should’ve gone to the house and asked Granny Smith if I could visit.”
Applejack trotted over to join her. As far as she could tell, Fluttershy’s creature friend was long gone. “Shucks, Fluttershy, I ain’t angry,” she said. “You’re welcome here anytime. Just a tad surprised, is all.”
“You look like you’ve been working hard.”
“You mean my mane? Yeah, gets messy by the end of the day. Can’t be helped. So what brings you by? You checkin’ on some of your critter friends? I guess a bunch of ‘em must live out here.” Not that Applejack paid wild creatures much mind unless they were upsetting the apple cart, so to speak.
“Yes, they do, but that’s not actually why I came here,” Fluttershy answered, looking at the nearby apple cart.
“Oh. Then what are you doin’?”
Fluttershy’s gaze remained on the apples in the cart. Reminded of Fluttershy’s turn as a vampire fruit pony, Applejack frowned suddenly. “You ain’t here for my apples, are ya?” she asked in a low voice, leaning in to look closely at Fluttershy’s mouth and ears. Fluttershy shrank away and down towards the ground.
“You turnin’ into Flutterbat again?” Applejack challenged.
“N-no!” Fluttershy denied. “I just wouldn’t—I couldn’t—I mean I know I did, but, but—oh!” She hid her face in her forelegs, trembling.
Kicking herself inwardly, Applejack moved quickly to reassure her friend. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy,” she said, stroking Fluttershy’s foreleg once before tucking her hoof beneath Fluttershy’s to help her up. “I get awful worked up protectin’ my farm, don’t I? You know that almost better’n anypony. But I’m worried about you too. Don’t wanna lose one of my best friends again.”
“It’s okay, Applejack,” said Fluttershy. “I did turn into a vampire fruit pony, after all. And I made a lot of mess.”
“I know. Still don’t excuse me being rude.” Applejack blew a wayward strand of her mane out of her face, noting the absence of the breeze that normally drafted between the trees.
“I forgive you.”
“Me too. Forgive ya, I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” Fluttershy said. Her smile banished the residual tension. “I’m here because Rainbow Dash told me you were having some problems with the apple trees here in the south orchard.”
“Oh. Oh yeah, I told her that right after I bucked her outta that tree over there,” Applejack recalled with a chuckle, nodding towards the relevant tree. “Haralson Senior ain’t producing apples quite like normal,” she explained. “None of ‘em are. They’ve always been a bit gnarly round here, but never this bad. Just look at my cart. There’s barely anything in it compared to normal.”
The airless evening seemed to grow heavier around her. She blew her fringe off her forehead again. Her own breath was warm so it didn’t really make her feel any more comfortable.
“I thought maybe the vampire fruit bats were causing problems again, or the fruit bats,” Fluttershy said. “So I came to check. I know I don’t know much about farming, but you and your family always have so much work to do that I didn’t want to bother you unless I was right.”
“You wouldn’t have been a bother, but I appreciate that.”
“Well, I checked, and it’s not the bats’ fault. And I can’t see any signs of caterpillars or aphids or anything else—um, not that you wouldn’t have seen those yourself if they were here, of course. So I started wondering if the apple trees themselves were the problem.”
“Whaddya mean?” Applejack asked. Fluttershy’s idea didn’t sound quite as odd as it would have if Rainbow Dash had come up with it, but it was still an unusual thing for a pegasus to say.
Fluttershy lifted her hoof to the trunk of the apple tree. “Every Apple on the farm works so hard,” she said. “That includes the trees. So I wondered if the trees needed a bit of TLC. Although I like to call it TLTC: tender loving tree care.”
As Fluttershy giggled softly to herself, Applejack noted a subtle difference between Fluttershy’s touch and Applejack’s own. Fluttershy near petted the tree, all kind and thoughtful – the way she did just about everything – whereas Applejack usually just gave them a fond pat and a quick word.
Applejack could be plenty gentle with the trees, in her own way, and perhaps on occasion she could even get a little soppy. Maybe. But her trees didn’t need spoiling unless they were being moved – they were tough. So she treated them like she would any working member of the Apple family: warmly, yet with a resolve that encouraged them to get back to work so Applejack could as well.
The trees could obviously take care of themselves if left alone. Still, they were never in as good shape when left on their own as they were when the Apple family was there to look after them. Trees – Sweet Apple Acres’ trees, at least – weren’t so different from ponies in that way. They did better when somepony was looking out for them.
“Anyway, I was just talking to the trees, and I must have lost track of time a bit,” Fluttershy said. A self-conscious expression crossed her face and she stopped stroking the tree’s bark, sighing. “And you must think that sounds silly,” she added.
“Well, I’ll be,” Applejack said. “Maybe you’re an Apple to the core as well, just like Pinkie Pie.”
“What?” Fluttershy asked, sounding shocked. “What are you talking about?”
“Sugarcube, it ain’t silly to talk to the trees, although I know it sounds silly to say it out loud,” Applejack assured her, with a grin as well as her words. “Don’t think I ever met a pony who wasn’t an Apple who realised our trees have feelings too. I just assumed you were talkin’ to yourself since you weren’t talkin’ to any of your critter friends. Hah! You’re just swell, Fluttershy.”
Two rosy spots coloured Fluttershy’s cheeks.
Applejack patted the apple tree’s trunk. “Y’all feelin’ underappreciated and overworked?” she asked the tree, and the orchard as a whole. In imitation of Fluttershy’s petting, she slowed down, taking her time and stroking the bark fondly. “I’m sorry. Just so many of ya, though that ain’t an excuse, now is it? I’ll try to do better. I reckon we can give y’all a bit of a breather. I’ll hafta talk it over with Granny and Big Mac though. You understand.”
A gentle wind lifted the close atmosphere, as if the trees were accepting her apology. Coincidence, like as not. . . except magic worked in strange and unusual ways, and sometimes Applejack thought earth pony magic was the strangest of all.
Fluttershy’s smile was a far cry from the annoyance Applejack had seen on Rarity’s face back when they took Bloomberg to Appleoosa, and a far cry too from Rainbow’s poorly concealed boredom or Twilight’s bookish interest whenever Applejack talked about day-to-day farming matters. Though Fluttershy could go way too far in caring about other creatures, it came straight from her heart, and right now her thoughtfulness filled Applejack with happiness.
“It’s real nice to find somepony who understands trees are living creatures too, even if they’re not like critters at all,” she confided.
Although Fluttershy’s blush returned, her smile remained.
The supper bell tolled across acres of farmland, urging the Apple family to head on home and rest up after a long day. Applejack swivelled her ears in the direction of the house. “Say, it’d be mighty fine if you wanted to join us for dinner,” she suggested to Fluttershy. “How about it?”
“Oh, that would be wonderful, Applejack. Just as long as it’s all right with everypony.”
“Of course it is,” Applejack said, laughing. “I wouldn’t offer if it weren’t.”
“Then I’d be delighted,” Fluttershy said, helping Applejack with the cart harness. “Thank you, Applejack,” she added softly.
“I should be the one thanking you,” Applejack answered, nudging Fluttershy affectionately. “Shoulda remembered sooner that there’s more to TLTC than just checkin’ for sickness.”
“You have so much work to do, taking care of all the trees in the orchard. I don’t blame you for forgetting something from time to time.”
“Thanks, sugarcube. Now that’s enough o’ that. We’re all square on the thanks, so how about you tell me about the rest of your day? What were you and Rainbow up to? Guess I gotta thank her too for tellin’ you about the apples.”
The two ponies carried on talking quietly as they headed towards the farmhouse in the gilded glow of sunset, leaving the orchard in relative silence. The apple trees they left behind absorbed the waning light and warmth of the day, satisfied to have been heard, and occasionally they creaked and groaned, almost as though they were engaged in conversations of their own.
Author's Note
The original version of this story was prompted by the Fluttershy prompt in the Hazardous Materials Group (28.09.15). It was always more about Applejack than Fluttershy, so I never posted it there. This is a slightly expanded version.
