The two melting cubes of ice struck each other, driven by the swirling mixture of water and fine liquor. A cream-colored hoof raised it to a pair of lips, shakily drinking down far more in one go than would be the norm for a "casual drinker". But Mayor Mare was not casual with her drinking, and this was not a time to go easy on the booze. Her ornate glasses slid a bit from their resting place on her muzzle as she tipped her head back farther, letting the golden liquid slide down her throat. In better days she would have saved this particular scotch for a special occasion- she also probably would have spent time tasting it, rather than what she was doing now. An onlooker from those days might think she was trying to kill herself, with the rate she was going; but any contemporary would conjecture that she had a better-than-average day and needed to dull the pain. She knew it would take time for the liquor to have its effect, and she already found herself needing more and more to keep her troubles at bay. She only bothered with the ice and water so that she didn't have to buy it as often.
The older mare looked across her desk at the stranger standing in the doorway. Well, not really a stranger, she mused, adjusting her glasses, but a... business partner? At least, soon to be, provided things went well. But the cost...
"You realize what you're suggesting, of course, Mr. Parsley. This will have... repercussions." Her voice seemed weak and frail in her own head, though she tried her best to be strong and confident- can't afford to appear vulnerable in a dialogue like this. Her age had been getting the best of her, lately. Had been for a long time, honestly.
The stallion shifted, and took a step closer to the Mayor's mahogany desk with its sheafs of paper. Outside, through the windows with its lazily-drawn curtains, he could see the gray sky and light rain that had been falling on the town for days. Pouring himself a glass of scotch, Sweet Parsley adjusted the brim of the hat he was wearing to get a better look at the Mayor.
"I am suggesting that we ease the burdens of this poor hamlet, Miss Mare. I am suggesting that, for a small fee, my company can increase your tax revenues and keep your town free of undesirables. And I am suggesting that if you play your cards right, you can let the good citizens of Ponyville forget about term limits for one more year and let you keep the lifestyle that you have become accustomed to."
Mayor Darling Mare took another bolt of golden relief and loosened the grip her cravat held on her throat- she was starting to feel a cold sweat. This was a lot to take in, but even though she worried about the fallout of her decision, it was too good an offer to pass up. She couldn't keep up with the tide of refugees and squatters coming in from Hoofington and whatever rocks they crawled out from under- or, perhaps more fittingly, whatever clouds they fell out of.
"So," the tall, light green stallion prodded, "what is your answer?"
Glancing at her glass, the aged mayor realized it was empty. She steeled herself and forced down the urge to pour more until later, lest she become unable to walk her guest out of her office. Brushing her forelock from her eyes, she replied simply, "The answer, Mr. Parsley, is 'when can your men start?' "
"Horseapples," Applejack muttered. Beads of rainwater rolled from the brim of her hat as she tilted her head back to better examine the tree in front of her. She blinked as a few drops splashed onto her face. Reaching up an experienced hoof, she gingerly plucked an apple from a drooping branch. Giving it a cursory look, she threw it to the ground and crushed it. The skin and flesh was wrinkled and brown, patches of black fuzz coating the outside. "Horseapples," she swore again.
A pink foreleg touched her shoulder, and Applejack turned her head backward to look. "This one too?" Pinkie Pie asked, already knowing the answer. Applejack nodded solemnly, and spat halfheartedly into a puddle. "Whole dern acre is prob'ly rotten through. Let's get the good ones down anyway, might as well get somethin' offa these trees." The orange mare looked again to the skies that seemed to ceaselessly loose soft rain from a gray blanket of clouds. Like some bubble-headed pegasus left the faucet running, she thought.
Pinkie Pie had already hopped closer to the trunk, and bucked it softly. At this point, the apples were so ripe that they fell from the trees without need of much coaxing. Applejack looked over her friend- her hair was drooping and wet; baskets laden with sorry-looking apples on her back; her hooves and withers dappled with dark mud. Pinkie was always the most cheerful pony Applejack had ever known, but even the pink partier was having trouble keeping her spirits up. How couldn't she? Sugarcube Corner had been closed for weeks, and it had been tough getting flour or sugar since long before then.
Applejack allowed herself a slight smile as she watched her friend work. As a farmer, she'd had it much better than the others, especially with food in such high demand. And finding workers to help harvest and plant was barely a chore- ponies were clamoring to find gainful employment. It was harder to decide which ponies not to employ.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise from behind her- some idiot had overturned an apple cart, by the looks of it. A moment later she saw the dirty pegasus running from the scene with a basket atop his head, dodging and weaving between the soggy trees. It was even harder finding ponies she could trust.
"Hey! Stop him!" she shouted into the orchard- thankfully, she saw several workers were already heading toward the thief- hopefully in pursuit, and not because they were co-conspirators. Applejack pulled a coil of rope from her saddle, and began swinging the lasso above her head as she galloped across the muddy ground. The pegasus, a light gray stallion, had a good head start, but she could see he was already slowing down- like most of the grounded fliers, his legs weren't trained for long distances, and he'd probably been emaciated from lack of food to begin with. Big Macintosh appeared from a grove on the stallion's left, and quickly knocked him to the ground by crashing into him. The thief whinnied as he slammed into the ground, spraying mud and apples in all directions. Applejack tossed the lasso about his neck as he struggled to right himself, and cinched it tight.
"Big Mac! Get on 'im!" Her elder brother obliged, wordlessly moving to put a hoof on the offender's neck. The pegasus panted heavily but stopped his struggles. He stared up at the sky wordlessly, breath coming quickly. Mist collected on his face and mane, and his lip quivered. Applejack trotted up beside him, and looked at his cutie mark- she remembered hiring this one. Name was something like "Foggy" or "Quiet Fog" or something meteorological, like every other pegasus. She sighed, and berated him. "Y'know you'd have gone home with half that basket if you'd just've kept working. But now you're goin' in the silo. Unless, o' course, you wanna tell us where you were goin'. Gonna eat all them apples by yourself? Maybe you had a few friends you were gonna share with, hmm?" The pegasus continued to stare up at the sky, and tried his best to swallow with the huge crimson hoof of Big Macintosh stifling his efforts. Applejack waited a beat, cinched the grip of her lasso tighter, and leaned closer to the thief's face.
"I trusted you. Let you come on this farm, knowin' full well you were gonna be less than half as useful to me as a normal pony. And now look, you done spilled my apples, MY apples, all over the ground. Now Ah don't wanna toss you into the silo with those other miscreants. Ah think you just had a bad day. Maybe you needed a break." Still, her prisoner remained silent. "Well buck me, do you wanna get thrown in the silo? You probably got a mare somewhere in town, don'tcha? You want her to go hungry?" Now the stallion turned his head away, keeping Applejack out of his peripheral vision.
The orange earth pony's face hardened. She spat, "You damn mule! Tell me where you were runnin' off to! Tell me or I swear, I'll," she had raised her hoof above his head, when her brother interrupted, "Sis! If he ain't gonna talk now we can wait. Yer scarin' the workers." She blinked in surprise, and looked around to see that, indeed, all the other workers had stopped harvesting and were watching hesitantly, some cringing in fear, foals burying their faces in their mother's sides. The rain picked up and was driven sideways by a slight breeze. Applejack wiped the mane away from her eyes, and dropped the lasso. She turned away and looked over the orchard- her orchard. "Mac, let 'im go. Just keep an eye on 'im. Everypony else," she addressed the group, "...let's fill up our baskets and head on back."
Applejack shrugged off her saddlebags by an older tree, and slogged back towards the barn with her head lowered. She didn't like what she had done, what she had felt. She was going to... she was going to strike another pony! But she needed those apples, all the ponyfolk needed her apples. If ponies were going to start trying to take her produce, things were going to get even worse than they were. And things weren't good.
A familiar pink pony sauntered up to her friend. "Applejack, are you feeling all right?" Pinkie Pie looked into her friend's face, and knew the answer. "Well, I mean, I know you're not feeling all right- nopony is, I guess. But do you want to talk about it?" Pinkie's eyes lightened a bit, and her voice increased in pitch. "I remember one time, when my sister had tripped over a rock and she hurt her knee, she didn't want to talk to anybody and had a terrible mood all day, and-" Applejack cut her off with a look. With a sigh, she stopped and turned to her friend. "Pinkeh, I'm sorry, but I don't feel like talkin' just right now." Pinkie watched, agape, as Applejack walked off in between the drooping branches of the rain-laden trees. The pink mare shook her head, and walked off in the other direction.
***
Applejack shook off her hooves and scraped the packed-in mud off on the corner of the steps into the family house. Pushing open the door, she dropped her hat on a small table. Winona raised her head up to look at her master, picked up and dropped her tail with a thud, and lowered it again. Applebloom was standing on a footstool, giving her grandmother a backrub. Granny Smith cooed as the filly's hooves massaged her aged muscles and aching bones. "Welcome back, dear. Did they get a lot 'o apples, hmm?" The old mare's eyes crinkled with a smile her lips barely recognized. Her eldest granddaughter shook her head, tossing a few errant drops of water onto the floorboards and her relatives. "Naw, looks like the other acres- most of the fruit has gone rotten. What ain't windfallen is moldin' on the branch." She sighed. "If ponies weren't so hard-up for food I'd say we toss 'em to the pigs, but I figure for the price we can get we can cut out the bad spots and use 'em for cider, at least-" Applejack's eyes turned to her sister.
With a stern look, she asked, "Applebloom, did ya bring some eats over to Twilight and Fluttershy like I asked ya?" The cream-colored filly stopped her ministrations, eliciting a disappointed noise from Granny Smith. "Well, I took a few pies over to Fluttershah's place. Looks like Sweetie Belle is doing okay, but Rarity is havin' trouble adjustin'. 'Too much dirt', she says."
Applejack softened her gaze, and rubbed her younger sister's mane. "Well I'm sure she's havin' an all-around hard time, ever since... y'know..." Wistfully, the orange mare looked absent-mindedly at a painting on the wall. The room seemed even quieter than it was before, except for the regular wheeze of Granny Smith. What had it been, four months? Five? It had started in the spring, hadn't it? Pegasi falling right out of the sky. Unicorns unable to use their magic. It had been like a bad dream, and the panic didn't make things any easier.
Applebloom was fidgeting, obviously trying to keep her eyes away from her sister's. Applejack noticed, and knew this was a sign that the filly was hiding something. "Well I'm glad you got food over to Fluttershah's place, but what about Twilight?" The tiny pony played with her mane, obviously anxious. Applejack waited a few moments, and just as she attempted to press the issue, Applebloom came clean in a rush: "Well-ah-went-to-the-library-and-knocked-on-the-door-but-there-wasn't-nopony-home-and-I-went-in-and-it-was-dark-and-there-was-a-note-and-" she gasped for breath, "-and I think Twilight and Spike went to Canterlot."
"Canterlot!?" Applejack stiffened in shock. "They left town? Without tellin' anypony!?" With haste, she turned herself around and grabbed her hat, donning it forcefully. She ran into Big Macintosh as she tried to rush out the door.
"Whoa there, where d'you think yer goin'?" Applejack wrinkled her nose and tried to push past her brother, tossing a curt answer his way- "After Twilight!"
