Braeburn sighed, lining himself up with what felt like the millionth tree. He lined his back hooves up, carefully leaning forward onto his forehooves. He shook slightly, then managed to get his balance. Leaning forward, he thrust his back hooves onto the tree. He leaned forward again, repeating the action before falling sideways to stand again. Lifting the few apples that hadn't landed in the baskets, he hoisted the first one onto his back with a grunt. He carried it towards the wheelbarrow, dumping the apples in and setting the basket down. Repeating this a few more times with each basket, he plopped down near the wheelbarrow. Wiping the sweat off his brow with a hoof, he adjusted his hat and slid into the harness around the wheelbarrow and began pulling it towards the buildings in the distance.
The dirt kicking up behind him, he realized he'd have to wash all the apples when he arrived, and let out another sigh. It was worth it, to feed Appleloosa and to get paid his few bits, but sometimes he ended up working overtime without the extra pay. He spotted the hose outside the building, and lifted it in a muzzle. Suddenly, he dropped it, a look of remembrance flashing across his face. He lifted a barrel from near the hose, filling it with apples and lifting the hose again. Using a hoof to turn it on, he tightened his teeth and began spraying the apples in the barrel. When he finished, he lifted a hoof and turned off the hose, filling another bucket and rinsing it again. Once he had completed all four barrels' worth of apples, he moved them in the sun to dry for a few moments. When they weren't sopping wet, he dumped them back into the wheelbarrow and pulled it into the building ahead.
A lime green stallion waited for him, his mustache covering his mouth. His eyes were what truly held the frustration, and Braeburn couldn't help but worry as to why his boss was so upset. Setting the wheelbarrow down on the floor, he slid out of the harness and approached his boss.
"Where were you?" he demanded, his eyes flashing.
"Ah was simply harvestin' the apples li' you tol' me to, Mr. Crab Apple," said Braeburn, trying to act brave.
"Be that as it may, you were supposed to be in half an hour ago!"
"I apologize, sir. Th' apples got dirty, ya see, so ah had to rinse 'em." Crab Apple sighed, then reached down and lifted the envelope below him.
"Here's your pay for the month. Thank you for you work," said Crab Apple, dismissing Braeburn.
"Yer welcome," smiled Braeburn, the worry gone from his face as he trotted out of the building, turning down the street. He sauntered down the dirt roads, his hooves merrily creating a clip-clop sound as he went. Turning down a small side street, he approached the two story apartment, pulling the door open with his jaws and darting in before it could shut on him. He trotted up the stairs, his hooves now muffled by the thin carpet, and arrived at his apartment. Lifting the key from his saddlebags with only slight difficulty, he unlocked the door and entered, shutting it carefully behind him. Gasping for air, he ran towards the air conditioner, turning the knob to high-cool and pressing his face against it eagerly.
With the cold air filling his home, he backed away and surveyed his house. To his left, the kitchen and small table, to the right a door leading to a small balcony. Behind him was a small living room with books and chairs, and ahead of him was his bedroom and bathroom. He entered the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and lifting an apple out. He bit down, savoring the juice and taste, and held the other half in his hoof. He walked over to the table, sitting down to finish the apple in silence. Crunching filled the room, the only sound besides the dull buzz of the air conditioner.
Just as he completed the apple, he heard a knock on the door, and with a sigh, stood up. Quickly washing his hooves off in the small sink, he galloped towards the door and pulled it open. Nopony was there, but a sign hung from his door. Curious, he lifted it, shutting the door behind him in the same manner he'd buck an apple tree, though significantly lighter. Walking to the small couch, he settled back onto it and began reading the flyer.
"The Wonderbolts?" he said slowly, continuing to read the flyer. "A show by the greatest fliers in Equestria? Here in li'l ol' Appleloosa? Well I'll be..." he trailed off, setting the flyer on a small sidetable next to him. "Maybe ah oughta go." He ran a hoof over the flyer, then found the date and time. "Tomorrow night? Well I suppose ah should go see these Wonderbolt ponies afta' all."
Looking around the room, almost as if afraid of being caught, he stood, scrawling the information on the calendar in his apartment before sitting back down on the couch. Lifting a book from the shelf at random, he curled into a more comfortable position and began reading.
The clock in his apartment rang seven o'clock, and Braeburn shut the book, muttering under his breath. Trotting towards the kitchen, he pulled some bread from the fridge and set it in a pan. Once they were sufficiently browned, he flipped them out with finesse and landed the two pieces squarely on a plate. Nosing around the fridge, he found some day-old hay and set it on the sandwich, folding it shut. He grabbed some carrots, then sat down at the table to enjoy a small meal. Finishing off the carrots, he grabbed a quick drink straight from the sink, then entered the bedroom. Flopping down on the Prince-sized bed, he sneaked under the covers. With the clock ringing eight o'clock, he fell asleep, eager for the next day.
Braeburn let out a well-toned sigh as he trotted home once again, work finished early. He entered his apartment again, but was shocked by what he saw.
Glancing around the room, nothing was gone at first sight, but it was a mess. Things thrown everywhere, the small table overturned, and worst of all, scrawled across his calendar.
"Stay away, coltcuddler," read Braeburn, his voice emotionless despite his turmoil of thoughts. Robotically, he began cleaning, careful to make sure everything was in the exact same place it had been before. Through his work, thoughts wracked his head as though it was filled with popping popcorn kernels. I'm not a coltcuddler. And even if I was, they'd only know if they looked in my... he trailed off in his thoughts, then ran to his room, pulling his bedside drawer open.
"It's gone," he gasped, searching every nook and cranny of the small drawer. "Gone!" Collapsing on the bed, he shut his eyes, willing it all away. This couldn't be happening, not to him. Not to the most hard working, loyal pony in Appleloosa. His eyes fluttered a bit, then welcomed him to sleep.
Smacking his lips loudly, he glanced over at the clock. "What in the name of Celestia?" he cried, jumping out of bed. The show was in half an hour! Bustling around, he brushed his mane, donned his hat, grabbed his saddlebags, and dashed out the door towards the Appleloosa stadium. As he ran, he saw ponies stopping, staring confusedly at him, but he ignored them. He had to see this, if for no reason other than insatiable curiosity.
Running into the stadium's box office, he sprinted towards the ticket counter, his breath coming in light pants. "Any... more... tickets for the... Wonderbolts?" The mare in the office stared at him momentarily, then nodded.
"Thirty bits for standard seat, fifty for front two rows, a hundred for VIP box," she said boredly, flipping her blonde mane out of her eyes. Nosing around his saddlebags, he stumbled across his paycheck, and pulled it open. Several bits came spilling out, as well as some bills, and he grabbed the highest denomination there.
"VIP," he decided. Even if it was a lot of his paycheck, if he was going to investigate, he might as well do it right, correct? The box office mare stared blankly at the money for a moment, then slowly hoofed him a ticket. Walking away, Braeburn glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if she was okay. Seeing she was playing a game of checkers, he nodded, and slowed his previous sprint to a comfortable walk. Flashing his ticket to the pegasus at the doorway, the pegasus pointed up at the box high in the air, and the stairs leading up towards it.
Braeburn looked up, and up at the box, letting out a gulp. That sure was awful high. Ignoring any doubts, he started up the stairs bravely, ignoring the questioning stares directed at him. Upon arriving, he saw the other ponies there were mostly what appeared to be managers for the Wonderbolts, or otherwise associates of them. Swallowing an awkward gulp, he took an empty seat, watching eagerly for the show to start. Tapping his hoof impatiently, he looked around, observing the ponies.
Most of the residents of Appleloosa weren't the richest, and were in the rows so far below them they seemed to spiral. Pulling himself back into his chair, he began gasping, only to be startled by the sound of fireworks. Looking back out, he saw multi-coloured fireworks lit the sunset, and six ponies glided out from wherever they had been. Swooping up, they formed one line, then split apart into each one gliding towards one of the VIP boxes perched in the air. He gasped as a pale blue stallion glided towards him, his deep blue mane windswept. The stallion shot him a wink before flying down, divebombing towards the crowd.
At the last moment, he swooped up, rejoining his teammates in the center. Flying up together, he saw a rainbow mare in the center as the rest flew up around her, creating a circle around the rainbow-maned mare. They remained about two hundred hooves below her as she began diving down. In her wake, a rainbow trail followed her, and soon she was surrounded by a white cone. The others next to her left their own unique trails, from white to red to that deep blue. The cone thinned out, and with a colossal explosion, sent a rainbow circle attacking the audience. As it washed over him, he felt temporarily deaf, and felt his mane flying up and taking on the windswept appearance of all the Wonderbolts' manes. The rest of the audience looked at the Wonderbolts in awe, and he heard a tomcolt-ish voice over the speakers.
"I'm Rainbow Dash, newest recruit of the Wonderbolts, and I want to say thank you for a great show! Before we take off, we want to remind you guys we have a few more shows, and we leave Appleloosa in two weeks. We have a great finale here, so we hope you enjoy it!" The voice struck him as oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Turning his attention back towards the stalli-er, the show, he saw the stallion was gliding back towards his booth again.
He began flying complicated spirals and loops towards the grassy field below. Confused, Braeburn continued watching as he spiraled downward, afraid he would crash into the ground below. Once again, at the last second, his hooves scraping the grass, the stallion pulled up and headed towards the sky again.
"Soarin!" boomed a voice, and Braeburn realized that was the stallion's name.
"Spitifire!" the voice cried as a yellow and red trail flew towards Soarin.
"Rainbow Dash!" said the voice as a rainbow blur headed towards the center also.
"Fleetfoot!" yelled the voice, a white trail gliding to the center.
"Surprise!" shrieked the voice, a yellow trail lazily circling towards the center.
"Misty!" echoed the voice, a light blue and cyan trail creating a large 'M' in the sky before joining the middle.
"The Wonderbolts!"
