Strawberry Serenadeby AugieDogChapters1: Seeds2: Stems3: Thorns4: Blossoms1: Seeds"Well, now!" Cherry Jubilee's jowly face lit up, her jaw chomping away. "That's mighty tasty, ain't it?" And only then, Sunrise noticed with a carefully supressed shudder, did the mare swallow. "Ain't never had a strawberry like that afore!" "Thank you!" Sunrise struggled to keep smiling. If everything here turned out, she would forgive this portly prima donna her ignorance, her lack of manners, the dust that lay over her desk like a tablecloth, the way her whole podunk town smelled like nopony in it had ever heard of indoor plumbing... "Similar to cherries, strawberries pack a lot of sweetness into a small package." As always, addressing this subject solidified Sunrise's smile. "But they grow at ground level for easy harvesting, and there's no worrying about that big seed in the middle! One simple pluck, and they're ready to eat!" Cherry Jubilee was nodding. "I could plant 'em along the edges of all my orchards, maybe even out among the rows." She dug into the box Sunrise had brought with her this trip and popped another berry into her gaping maw. "Congratulations, Strawberry Sunrise! You've done made yourself a sale!" If there were any sweeter words in any language, Sunrise had never heard them. She flipped her saddlebags open with a wing and dug out the standard contract. "Just sign here, ma'am, and we'll get the process started." "Process?" A sour little whiff came into Cherry Jubilee's loamy aroma. "Ain't'cha gonna sell me the seeds right now?" Sunrise's smile got shaky again. "My brother, Strawberry Roan, handles the actual cultivars, ma'am." Flexing her wings, she forced her voice to stay light and fluffy. "Roan lets me bring clouds in to water the plants, but anything more than that's just asking for trouble, isn't it?" Of course, Cherry Jubilee grinned at that—earth ponies always found it hilarious that a pegasus was working in agriculture. But as soon as Ms. Jubilee had signed the contract and stamped out a bank draft for a full two years of field service, Sunrise decided once again that she could be forgiving. "It's the best decision you've ever made," Sunrise said, tucking the paperwork back into her panniers. "Roan'll be getting in touch with you by the end of the week, and on behalf of the whole Strawberry Family, I thank you." Down the front steps of the main house at Cherry Hill Ranch and all the way back to Dodge Junction, Sunrise let herself bask in the warmth of a job well done. Sure, this was still the back end of nowhere, but that was the task Sunrise had given herself: to spread the word about the wonders of strawberries to dim-witted yokels who couldn't hold a thought together long enough to realize that their lives were never going to amount to anything. Unless they were growing strawberries: then at least they'd be doing something worthwhile with themselves... At the raggedy log cabin that called itself the local post office, Sunrise counted out the bits to send the paperwork back to Ponyville by next-day express. She'd had reason to do that three times so far this trip, but with a commercial operation like Cherry Hill now signed on, she could almost see Roan's bushy eyebrows shooting to the top of his forehead. She may have been the first pegasus born into the family in more than three hundred years, but if this didn't prove that she was just as much a Strawberry as the rest of them, she didn't know what would. Actually, though, with the business she'd drummed up out here in the hinterland this past month, she finally had the bits to pursue her secret plan, the idea she'd had boiling in the back of her head for years without ever once so much as suggesting it to Roan. She took a breath, pulled a pen from her saddlebag, and forced her teeth not to shiver as she carefully wrote a quick note to slip in with the contract: It's time, Roan. Time to carry the fight to the enemy. Time to go where no Strawberry has gone before. Expect a couple contracts in the mail from Appleloosa by this time next week, or I'm not your little sister! She signed the note, gave it to the postal pegasus, put her pen away, and marched toward the Dodge Junction railway station. "Aw, c'mon, Red!" With anypony else, Braeburn would've done his level best to keep that whiny tone out of his voice. But with his big sister, he found it worked more often than not. "It's my turn, ain't it?" Red rolled her eyes behind those little half glasses she always wore when she was at her desk. "Any other time, Bray, I'd go with the roster and send you out on patrol tonight. But we hired them pegasi to bring that storm through, and that means there's likely to be more ponies needing help than usual." And even though she showed him how much she thought he was still a foal every hour of every day of every week of every year, hearing her come right out and say that she didn't trust him to do a stallion's job somehow made it worse. Maybe that whole 'whiny voice' thing hadn't been the best idea after all... But he could still save this. He could pull off anything, he reckoned, if'n he set his mind to it. "I'm just asking you to let me do my fair share, Red." He took up one of his best poses: chest out, head high, the steely look in his eye that got mares sighing whenever he let himself strut a little along any street in Appleloosa. "I know I got a lot to live up to being your brother and all, but I ain't never let'cha down yet, has I?" And that's when he let his smile loose, the one that got even more sighs out and about. "Really?" Red never gave him her full glare over the top of her glasses, but, well, she came mighty close every now and again. "Like when you twisted your leg all up right before the rodeo? Or maybe when that pro-level buckball team you said you was gonna put together got beat by Cousin Applejack's team of a baker, a volunteer vet'rinarian, and some grade-school colt? Or maybe when you promised—" "All right, all right!" Braeburn took a breath and blew all his temper out with it. Getting peeved never solved any problem, and besides, it made his forehead wrinkly. "I know I'm sometimes a little—" He searched for a word and finally decided to go with: "—flaky. But—" "But nothing, Bray." Red focused her attention back down to her paperwork. "You're gonna make some mare a wonderful husband someday, but till then, how 'bout you take tonight off and let the rest of us handle the big jobs, okay? Don't make the patrol steeds break off their duties and escort you back. 'Cause I've told 'em to do that if'n they catch you out there tonight." The tone of her voice told him that was the end of that. "If'n you say so, Ms. Red Gravenstein." But then he also knew how much she hated her full name. With the heat of her glare warming his backside, he put just a bit of a strut in his step leaving her office, but it didn't last much more'n a few paces down the hall outside. It'd taken him the better part of a year to convince Red he had gumption enough to be on the volunteer night patrol list, walking the territory 'round Appleloosa to help any travelers who might've got stranded out in the desert or even ol' Pimiento get home safe if'n he'd had one lick too many at the saloon. Braeburn's first two turns on patrol last month and the month before had been a couple of the best nights of his life. Sure, the most exciting thing that'd happened to him and Burled Spruce, the veteran he'd been partnered with, was getting a couple acorns chucked at 'em by a raccoon they'd had to chivvy outta the Widow Redbank's barn. But just the feeling of being out there in the dark wearing wunna them silvery vests and knowing that if something happened, he was gonna be there on the front lines helping— 'Cept now, of course, he wasn't. And right when they was gonna need all able hooves, too: heading for his room, he looked out the big window at the back of the house and saw the black clouds swelling up to swallow the last pink and orange bits of the sunset. He could almost hear the whistles of the weatherponies guiding the storm in, too, a seasonal mass of rain that'd perk up orchards all over the whole countryside. And where was he gonna be? "Out in it," he muttered, rearing back and sprinting down the hall. Pushing into his room, he grabbed a yellow rain poncho and one of his more battered hats, didn't even hardly stop to give himself the once-over in the mirror, then galloped for the back door. He'd have to keep outta sight of the other patrolers, but by Celestia and Luna, he was gonna make a difference if'n one needed making! 2: StemsThe roll of thunder twisted Sunrise's ears when she was still a mile outside Appleloosa's city limits sign. Not that anything about this tumbleweed-infested dust bowl resembled a city, of course, though she would've been happy to talk for days about the limits of the place. "Storm coming up," the latest farmer to refuse her generous offer had said as she'd stepped out his back door to shake the dust of the cabin from her hooves. Yes, his wife had told her she could stay the night, but by that time, she'd had enough of this entire part of the world and all the ponies in it. "Thank you," she'd said, showing her teeth in an expression she'd been certain the bumpkins would mistake for a smile. "But strawberries take well to damp conditions." She'd left them one of Roan's cards in case they changed their mind and had started back along what they called a road in the direction of what they called a town. Lightning forked through the black above, and the thunder this time followed almost immediately. The intervals between flash and rumble had been shrinking for the twenty minutes or so that she'd been walking, and she'd been walking the whole time because the turbulence had been increasing. Growing up in an earth pony family, she'd never really felt the need to take flight training all that seriously; she hadn't done any sustained flying, now that she thought about it, since pitching in with Ponyville's other pegasi to help raise the water from Highland Reservoir to Cloudsdale two years ago... She shifted her shoulders under her saddlebags. With the way her luck had been going since arriving here, she wouldn't be at all surprised if she was equally distant from the town and the nearest farm at this point. Which of course would mean that— A raindrop splashed against the tip of her nose, and Sunrise closed her eyes. Just keep walking. What was the worst that could—? The lightning and thunder hit simultaneously, a fiery explosion that frizzed her mane and tail and sent her jumping right off the ground. Spreading her wings, she landed easily enough, but that was when the sky opened up, water crashing down over her like a vertical flood; she barely had time to take a breath before the dirt beneath her hooves became mud, the mud flowing and making her slip, her flailing legs suddenly finding nothing but liquid in every direction. "Waaahh!" she shouted—or something equally dignified, she was sure—and then she was falling, tumbling, sluicing away in the cold and the wet with no up or down anywhere. Struggling just seemed to spin her faster and in a wider variety of directions, but then she felt the solid downward pull of gravity, her jangled sense of balance clearing just in time to tell her she was plummeting sideways off the edge of something. Reflexively, she tried to flap, to slow her fall at least if she couldn't get airborne, but the air around her was more water than anything else; all she managed to do was slue herself around so that, when she smashed down into the actual water, she hit with her chest instead of her flank. That let her churn her legs, though, and that kept her head up in the part of the atmosphere that was partially breathable. And since she could breathe, "Help!" she shouted, sure that nopony was anywhere within five furlongs of— "Hang on!" a baritone voice called from ahead. Something yellow and vaguely pony-shaped seemed to waver out of the darkness above her, something yellow and thin swirling around it. "I'm gonna try lassoing you!" The thin something lashed out from the pony-shaped something, and Sunrise reached for it, felt a twist of rope tangling her forelegs while the river or whatever she'd fallen into tried to spin her away. She wasn't about to let that happen, though, so she tightened her grip, flapped her wings faster, kicked her hind legs, and yelled, "I've got it! Pull!" The rope cinched around her elbows and wrenched her upward, Sunrise wincing as her stretched shoulders and her frantically pumping wing muscles twinged simultaneously. Gritting her teeth, she didn't even try to guide herself, just tried to make herself as light as possible and trusted the pony hauling her in to— The motion of the rope hitched, and Sunrise plowed face first into what felt like a mountain of mud. Sputtering, she pushed away with her hind legs, her forelegs still clinging to the rope, and heard that voice call out, "You okay, buddy?" She spat out enough of the slop to shout, "Just pull!" And the next thing she knew, she was jerked out of the pitch-blackness into something grayer and more open, the heave of the rope a sideways thing all of a sudden. She wasn't ready for the shift, of course, nor did the yokel who'd grabbed her seem to notice that she'd cleared the lip of whatever cliff she'd been washed over. He kept pulling, at any rate, and she kept flapping; she just barely had time to realize what was about to happen when they smashed into each other. "Ooof!" he grunted, folding under her like cheap patio furniture. Sunrise thought she might've said something similar, but she was too busy grabbing hold of the first solid object she'd been near in the last several minutes. He felt very solid, too, warm even through the yellow rain slicker he was wearing. His forelegs closed around her, held her nice and firmly, and his little gasp of breath was followed by a chuckle. "Well, now. Mighty pleased to meet'cha, ma'am." Which made the cold flood back, and she pushed away as much as she could without actually letting go. Sure, she was in no condition to stand on her own, but that didn't mean she had to lie there and let this hayseed paw at her. "And I suppose," she managed to squeeze out between chattering teeth, "you've got some hovel nearby you'll be hauling me to so you can have your way with me?" "Ma'am?" She could just make out his face through the continuing downpour, a face more rounded than chiseled, something coltish about it even though the pony beneath her was definitely a stallion. He blinked eyes that could've been blue or could've been green: she couldn't tell in the darkness. "I'm with the Appleloosa night patrol!" he called over the rush of the rain. "We help ponies when they're in trouble!" The cold that flooded Sunrise then had nothing to do with the weather; her face heated up, though, as the stallion went on: "We've got an emergency shelter just over yonder!" He jerked his chin to her left. "'Tain't much, but it's got walls and a roof, blankets and a stove!" He moved under her, somehow twisted and slid till he was rising to his hooves with her draped over his back. "You hang on, ma'am, and I'll get us there lickety-split!" "Fine." She hesitated an instant before moving to wrap her forelegs loosely around his neck, and only then did she remember to say, "Thank you." He didn't answer, just started off in the direction he'd gestured to earlier. Sunrise swallowed against the tightness in her throat and felt glad she wasn't in a position where she had to look into those sweet, wide eyes of his again. Braeburn cursed himself for an idjit. How could he come all the way out here into a storm situation and forget to bring a second poncho in case he actually found somepony who needed it? And asking her to crawl off so he could re-sling his poncho to cover them both sounded like a bad idea. Best to get moving. At least the nearest shelter wasn't far from the bank of the swollen crick he'd pulled the mare out of; still, she was shivering something fierce by the time he saw the little cabin. "Here we go!" Trying to keep his voice cheery, he pushed in through the planks that made up the door. "Nice and cozy!" The words popped out before he could stop them, and he winced, remembering the first thing she'd said to him after he'd gotten her up the embankment. It didn't help that the shelter wasn't nice and cozy. Like she'd said, it was a hovel maybe half the size of his bedroom back at the ranch, every bit as dark and cold as it was outside though a fair sight drier... But he couldn't let it bother him. She was frozen and soaked and tired, prob'bly scared and maybe even in shock. He hadn't had too much training—mostly just memorizing where all the emergency shelters were and what they had stocked in 'em—but a quick glance showed him the pot-bellied stove had a good stack of split wood beside it. At least he could get the place warmed up. Carefully, he squatted onto the straw mat in front of the stove. "Now you just set yourself right down here, ma'am. I'll get the fire lit and get you some towels and blankets." She didn't move, and Braeburn couldn't keep his ears from folding. But no: he could feel her belly pushing and drawing back with her breath, her grip still good and tight around his shoulders, her heart beating where she'd tucked herself up close against him. And it was only a couple of those heartbeats before she slid off and murmured another little, "Thank you." "You're welcome," he said, standing and keeping as quiet and gentle as he could. The flint and steel sat on a shelf beside where the stove's pipe went out through the back wall, but even after he'd sparked the tinder in the pan, slid it back into place, and gotten a couple logs tucked in and burning nicely, the thing didn't put out a whole lotta light. Not that he needed much: crossing the room took him all of three steps, and the closet to the right of the stove had a good stock of soft, thick, cotton sheets. He carried one over to her, shook it open, and laid it across her trembling wings. "We got plenty of 'em, ma'am, so when one gets too damp, just dump it off and grab another." A few more quick back-and-forths, and he had four blankets stacked up beside her. That's when he realized he was still wearing his gear. Unfastening the poncho and knocking his hat to the floor, he grabbed two more blankets, dried himself good with one, then wrapped up in the other. The pegasus mare, he was glad to see, had done the same; she had two blankets crumpled in a heap to her left and was huddled under the third, her eyes closed and her face all afrown. She wasn't shivering no more, though, so Braeburn settled to the other mat about a quarter turn 'round the stove from where she was laying. The rain sounded mighty loud against the walls and roof, so he pitched his voice against it: "We got water and hardtack if'n you need anything to eat or drink, ma'am. It's nothing fancy, but—" "Sunrise," she said, not opening her eyes. "I'm Strawberry Sunrise." Skittish is what she was, but then he reckoned that was more'n a little understandable. "I'm Braeburn." He didn't wanna get too personal, but he did wanna get her talking, maybe get her cheered up a little, and— And that was when he remembered the question he shoulda asked her maybe fifteen minutes ago. "Was you traveling by yourself, Sunrise? I didn't see no other ponies when I saw you, but if'n you had friends, I better head on back." "What? No!" Her eyes shot open. "Out there in that? Besides, all I had was my—" Her eyes went even wider. "My panniers and case!" She leaped up, her wings lifting the blanket off her back, and even in the shadowy flickers the stove gave out, Braeburn could see she wasn't wearing any saddlebags. "Just absolutely perfect!" Her whole face cinched up tight and angry, and she slumped back to the mat, the blanket falling across her again. "Without those contracts and samples, I might as well not even be here!" Swallowing a sigh, Braeburn pushed himself onto all fours. "Could you describe them bags, ma'am?" "What? No!" she said again, her ears disappearing into the wet red tangle of her mane. "Forget about them! You...you've already suffered enough for my mistakes." Her voice trailed off, and Braeburn found himself thinking it was a cute little voice when she wasn't growling with it. Then her actual words hit him, and he shook his head. "Ain't no mistakes involved, I reckon, ma'am. You're not from 'round here, so there's no way you woulda known we had this big ol' gully washer scheduled." She snorted. "The desk clerk at the hotel told me this morning, but I didn't listen. I mean, why would I pay any attention to anything anypony else might say or think?" Her voice was getting growly again. "I've been making one mistake after another since deciding to come to Appleloosa, and it's long past time to cut my losses." Her head drooped onto her forelegs, and her eyes drew shut. "I might as well head home..." Braeburn blinked, not sure he should say anything, but, well, he couldn't let her lay there soaking in rainwater and misery, could he? "Least your folks and friends'll be glad to have you back." That seemed a safe bet at least, a pretty little mare like her. Nothing but the whoosh of the storm outside for a fair stretch of time, then Sunrise gave a quieter sorta snort. "Friends? There's one mare in town, a tailor I sometimes share gossip with—she says her other friends are too nice to get into the real juicy stuff—but that's about it." She raised her head, and in the dim light, her eyes looked gray and unfocused. "And the family already thinks I'm useless. This'll just cement that opinion in their minds." That got about half a laugh out of Braeburn. "Well, now, could be I know something about cementing that particular kind of opinion." Her gaze sharpened on him, but it was a wary sorta sharpness, not the grumpy sort he always got from his sister. "'Cause I ain't even s'pposed to be out tonight," Braeburn went on. "My sister Red thought the storm'd be too dangerous." His conscience got a mite prickly, and he blew out a breath. "She loves me, I know, and don't wanna see me get hurt, but there's stallions younger'n me already taking regular shifts on the night patrol! It's just that Red's done made up her mind about me, and nothing I do'll ever change that!" Sunrise gave about half a laugh herself. "You want me to talk to her? I mean, I'd be buried under half a ton of mud if you hadn't come along." Her gaze sharpened again. "But seriously, Braeburn, you're doing what you have to do, getting out and taking your place in the world whether your sister likes it or not. That's the only thing ponies really respond to: step up, look them straight in the eye, and tell them how it's gonna be." Braeburn swallowed, glad he'd gotten her talking but not so sure about what she was saying. "I dunno, Sunrise. Every time I try that sorta thing, Red's got some answer that's so sensible, I come off looking nothing but foalish." "Then get smarter." She tapped a front hoof against her chest. "Look at me. My brother Roan doesn't much like me going out to represent the family all across Equestria—he says I'm too abrasive, too hard-charging." She rolled her eyes. "But I've taught myself so much about the strawberry business that I'm the only possible choice. Roan can either pull somepony away from the fieldwork that they know how to do, or he can send me to do what I know how to do. And I get results." Her mouth went sideways. "In the civilized parts of the world, I mean. Around here, I don't know what their problem is." "Well..." Braeburn shrugged. "Folks in Appleloosa like to get to know a pony before doing business. Take things slow and easy, be friendly, and everything'll work out okay. That's what I've found, anyway." "Really." Her eyes closed halfway, and her scent got a little sour. "'Cause what you were saying about your sister running your life made me think that being a doormat hasn't been working out all that well for you." It struck him like a slap, but it was Sunrise's face that turned red. "I'm sorry," she said, dropping her gaze. "I don't mean to be a grouch all the time, but, well, I kind of am a grouch all the time." She glanced back up at him. "You seem like a really nice guy, Braeburn, but in my experience, 'nice' just gets you trampled in life's stampede. You deserve something better than that." A smile pulled at her lips, the first time he'd seen her do that. "And I'm not just saying that because, y'know, you saved my life." He couldn't help giving a whole laugh, couldn't help leaning toward her and saying, "Y'know, that there smile's just like your name: gentle and bright and definitely worth getting up early to see. Seems to me you oughtta let it out more often." He raised his hooves before she could start scowling. "Not that I'm qualified to tell anypony how to handle her business, and not that I'm so put-together that I can start giving out advice. But just between you and me out here in the middle of nowhere." She didn't start scowling, oddly enough—Red always scowled at him when he tried to give her advice. Her smile did go a mite sideways, though. "Well, just between you and me out here in the middle of nowhere, I'll admit that it is nice to slow down and talk to somepony for a change." Her eyes shifted from side to side, and she leaned toward him, her cute little voice dropping. "Especially somepony I'm not trying to sell something to. Just keep it under your hat." She tapped her snout and winked. "Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation, after all." That needed another full laugh, and Braeburn happily gave it one. "Me, too!" 'Cept that didn't make a lick of sense: he had to stop, take a breath, and try to form what he was feeling into actual words. "I mean, it's just a pure pleasure having a pretty mare talk and listen to me for once instead've giggling and batting her eyelashes the whole time, then showing up at the ranch house asking Red for permission to court me." Sunrise's eyes went wide again. "That really happens?" Almost by reflex, Braeburn started to strike a pose—chest out, eyes half closed, head cocked to show his neck to full advantage—but he stopped himself and gave a sheepish smile. "When I ain't covered in mud and so generally bedraggled, I'm told I'm quite the looker." "Huh," she said. Her eyes started moving, looking him up and down like she was only just now seeing him, and for the first time in his life, Braeburn tried to shrink away, glad he had that big, shapeless blanket covering him from mane to tail. Her grin came back, but it was her sharp one, not the sorta moony one he usually got after a mare gave him the once over. "Well, there's no accounting for taste, I guess." "What?" Laughing, he smacked the straw mat under him. "Now with anypony else, I'd think maybe I'd been insulted. But from you, well, that's likely the closest you've ever come to giving a fella a compliment, ain't it?" "Pretty much." She was laughing, too: not giggling, he was glad to hear, but some real, honest, friendly laughter. What they talked about after that, Braeburn could never quite remember: stories about growing up; about things they'd seen, him just here around Appleloosa but her from her travels all over Equestria; just about life in general. He stayed in easy reach of the wood pile, and in that warm, dim room, the storm pounding away outside, he had the best night of his life just lying there and talking to a pony like nopony he'd ever met. He fell asleep at some point—whether before her or after her, again, he couldn't remember—and when he woke up, sunlight streaming in through the cabin's one window, his blanket kicked off and wadded up against his belly, he rolled over to see if she was awake— And she was gone. 3: ThornsStaring out the train window, Sunrise didn't see the desert changing to meadows, didn't see buttes give way to hills, cacti to trees, sand to grass. All she could see was the apple, the big, round, red apple on Braeburn's flank when she'd come slowly, gently, smilingly awake after the best night's sleep she'd had in—months? Years? Ever, maybe? Still muddy but warm and dry, she'd opened her eyes, had turned to grin across the room at the stallion she'd gotten to know better in those couple hours the night before than any other pony outside her immediate family— And the apple had practically popped off his hide at her, had smacked her in the head with a sting she could still feel all these hours later. She had only two real memories of the moments after that: standing with her hindquarters pressed against the shack's rough wooden door, her gaze snapping back and forth between the unmistakable apple of that cutie mark and the quietly snoring face of the sweet and soft-spoken guy who'd saved her life; and running, the morning sky so perfect and blue and clear overhead that she wanted to shriek at it, wanted to scream that it was a liar and a cheater and a betrayer. Sprinting, she'd reached the Appleloosa city limits sign after about ten minutes, her mind all the while refusing to think about why her face felt wet even though nothing remained of the rain except the sudden rash of tiny yellow and purple wildflowers that had apparently sprung up overnight to cover the scrub brush and give the air a sweet, tangy scent. She'd stormed into the hotel, reared back, slammed her hooves and about half a pound of mud onto the front desk, fixed her glare on the earth pony gaping at her there, and had informed him that she'd lost her key but would like to retrieve her luggage so she could check out as quickly as possible. If he'd been any less accommodating, Sunrise would've had a target for the heat simmering just behind her face, would've been able to focus on him and let loose the foulest stream of obscenities this backward burg had likely ever experienced. But he'd grabbed a skeleton key from the desk, had scrambled upstairs and returned almost immediately with her bag in his teeth. She'd scooped some random amount of coins out, had rushed to the train station like her tail was on fire, slapped down another bunch of coins, and had spent the last she-didn't-know-how-many hours not seeing the scenery. Just the apple. Nothing but the apple. "Ponyville!" a deep voice called out, and Sunrise snapped back to the present, the conductor making his way down the center aisle of the car. "Ponyville's the next station stop!" Which was when she realized she hadn't washed up yet, her feathers all askew, and her mane a mess. Staring at her reflection in the carriage window, she could even see the tracks in the dirt on her face from her tears. No! Strawberry Sunrise didn't cry! She made other ponies cry! Like when she accused kind, gentle, friendly, helpful ponies who'd just saved her life of wanting to molest her. Or when she called those same ponies doormats and implied that she found them ugly. Except he'd laughed, hadn't he? Had sliced right through her defenses, had pushed her pettiness aside, had treated her like she wasn't an obnoxious wretch, had— Had told her she had a nice smile. Even after everything she'd said to him... The train was passing through town now, was slowing, taking the curve just before the station, and Sunrise suddenly wanted to be anywhere other than here. Well, not anywhere, of course: she was absolutely never going near Appleloosa again, for instance. But apples and Ponyville had a very strong association, too, one that had always made her grind her teeth when she passed through the market square on her way to her family's strawberry fields on the other side of town from Sweet Apple Acres. Before, seeing members of the Apple family parading around with various princesses, getting honors from the mayor, their produce stand outselling all others according to the figures released by the Chamber of Commerce, all that would just make Sunrise vow silently to spread the word about strawberries even more fervently. But now? Pulling into the station, the train lurched to a stop, the early afternoon sunlight washing across her and reflecting her damp, wavering eyes back from the window. She growled, wiped a fetlock at them, pushed herself from her seat, and grabbed her bag. Out on the platform, she felt like everypony was staring at her, but when she glared around with her lips pulled back to make it easier in case she needed to start shouting, she didn't meet any other pairs of eyes. Because nopony cares about you, an awful little whisper hissed in the deepest, darkest part of her head. And why should they? She wanted to growl some more, but instead she stomped off the platform, through the station, and out onto the street. Was it her fault the world was unfair in every single way? "Sunrise!" an all-too-familiar voice rang out behind her, and Sunrise froze, started thinking up a whole new set of adjectives to use for the world. Because of course the first pony she ran into after this disaster had to be— "Roan," she said through her teeth. Turning, she clenched her teeth even tighter to see her older brother trotting toward her with their cousin Bramble beside him. His smile fell, his eyes narrowing, and Sunrise's knees threatened to buckle. Not that she was going to let anything like that happen, but she couldn't help wincing at the thought of how horrible she must look, mud dry and itchy all up and down her hide. "What happened to you?" Roan asked. So many words crowded into the back of her throat, she almost choked. But she swallowed them, took a breath, and forced herself only to say, "Nothing worth mentioning." Bramble was openly staring, her scent sour and salty at the same time. "We were just talking about the surprisingly good deals you got in Dodge Junction." A smirk tugged at Bramble's lips. "I'm guessing things didn't go so well in Appleloosa." Any other time, Sunrise would've happily unleashed her tongue. Cousin Bramble had always been every bit as prickly as her namesake, and growing up together, Sunrise had gotten to enjoy sparring verbally with her. Well, not enjoy it. She didn't really like her cousin all that much, and she was sure the feeling was mutual— Because, that nasty little voice in the back of her head murmured, you feel the same way about everypony as everypony feels about you, right? As filled with joy as a trip to the dentist... It took several more swallows before Sunrise could get out, "I'll have a complete report on your desk by lunchtime tomorrow, Roan. But right now, if you'll excuse me, I need a long bath and an even longer nap." Not waiting for a response, she turned away and began her slog home, half hoping and half afraid that he would call out after her. He didn't, and she made it home without anypony else calling to her, either. She spent about an hour in the tub, draining and refilling the thing four times with the hottest water she could stand, only splashing out when she started feeling like she'd boiled away the last of the mud. Wrapped in her big red robe, she chewed at a spinach, arugula, and strawberry salad while doing everything she could to think about nothing at all, then she crawled into bed. It took a while of very specifically telling herself how much more comfortable she was here than in, say, a drafty wooden hut with a straw mat, but she did finally fall asleep. She'd never been one for recalling her dreams, and the first thing she did when blinking awake the next morning just after dawn was to thank Princess Luna that the night had passed just as uneventfully as usual. It was bad enough she could remember every minute of what had actually happened in Appleloosa without it smacking her in the head while she was asleep, too... Her report took five drafts, the first four crumpled up and spat toward the trash basket beside her desk when they started wandering into personal areas she knew Roan wouldn't care about. Half a sentence was all she wanted, just a quick recommendation that the Strawberry Family send a donation to the Appleloosa Night Patrol to thank them for their work, for their professionalism, for their preparedness, their attention to detail, their devotion to their duties, their kind and gentle natures— And into the trash it would go. She did finally get it done, tucked it into her second-best saddlebags, and headed across town to the family house nestled in a little crook of the Whitetail Woods overlooking the strawberry fields the family had been working since coming here not long after Ponyville's founding. The sight and scent of the old homestead soothed her as always: the green spiky leaves, the red ripening fruit, the subtle sweetness drifting on the breeze. Of course, Cousin Bramble lounging on the front porch swing like she owned the place dampened some of that, and her sharp little grin tightened Sunrise's stomach in a way it never had before. "Morning, Cousin!" Bramble stretched herself off the swing and tossed her strawberry blonde mane. "You're looking a little less scruffy at least." "Not in the mood, Bramble." Usually, a session trading barely veiled insults with the other members of her family left Sunrise keyed up and invigorated, but right now, the only thing she wanted to do less than jab at Bramble was head back to Appleloosa. "Really?" Somehow, Bramble's grin got even sharper. "Is the Strawberry Family's number-one salesmare slipping in her onrushing old age? Could it that younger, prettier, and more hard-working ponies might finally have a chance to slip in and take her crown?" A reply that featured several different terms for excrement popped into Sunrise's head, but for some reason, it just made her vaguely embarrassed. "Do your best, Cousin," she said instead, pushing through the front door into the mud room. Like always, Roan looked through her whole report while she stood there, and like always, he didn't offer her a sandwich or a glass of water or even a seat. For once, though, his casual disregard didn't set her hackles rising or her teeth gritting. Before, she'd taken his behavior as a goad toward a goal, his way of giving her something to aim for and aspire to: Some day, she used to imagine him saying by his actions, you might be important enough to treat other ponies like dirt, too! But on that Tuesday afternoon, blinking at his impassive face on the other side of his polished oak desk as he flipped through the pages of her report, all she felt was tired. His bushy green eyebrows went up several times during the reading, and at the end, Sunrise wasn't surprised in the least when the question he asked was, "You lost your sample case?" "Yes, Roan." She wanted to shout at him till she'd drilled a few more ear holes into his thick and bony skull, but the tangled memory of her plunge into that storm-swollen creek kept dripping cold and shivery at the edges of her mind and dowsing her usual burning cloud of anger before it could even start to spark. With a sigh, she just said, "I thought replacing a sample case might be easier than a replacing a spine or a rib cage." He shrugged. "Well, we all have to set our own priorities, I suppose." His beige face twitched into something like a smile, but Sunrise couldn't detect a single bit of actual humor anywhere near it. "And the deals you managed to land in Dodge Junction will cover this whole Appleloosa fiasco well enough; we might even have a few bits we can contribute to this night patrol if you think it necessary." Again, it took some effort to keep her voice down. "They did save my life." All that got was another shrug before he folded the report closed and crossed his front hooves over it. "I'll approve issuing you a new sample case, but try not to make a habit of this sort of thing." With a crisp nod, he pulled open a desk drawer and slid the papers into it. "Now, you can still catch the 2:36 train to Vanhoover if you hurry." "What?" At that, her inner fire flared up pretty substantially. "I almost died out there, Roan! And, yes, I know I don't mean anything to you as a family member or a pony or anything like that, but maybe you could pretend for just one scat-sucking minute that you care about me as a semi-valued employee?" Sunrise refused to let her words shake even though most of her body seemed to be. "Or even pretend that I'm more valuable than a sample case?" His ears flicked. "What do you want, Sunrise? A medal for doing your job?" Her throat threatened to squeeze closed, but again, she wasn't about to let that happen. "What I want, Roan, is a brother! A real, actual, genuine, cares-about-me brother!" "I see." His face got even stonier. "And are you planning to start behaving like a real, actual, genuine, cares-about-anything-other-than-herself sister?" Shock froze Sunrise for a moment, but just for a moment. "I care about plenty!" she shouted. "Strawberries, for instance!" "Maybe the fruit." Roan waved a hoof. "But what about the ponies in the pictures I've got here? Do you even know their names?" Staring around her, Sunrise noticed for the first time all the framed photos standing among the books that lined the walls. Aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, sure, but... "Names?" she repeated, the quiver finally penetrating her voice. "I...I...I—" Letting her head droop, she pulled in a breath, and even though she couldn't remember the last time she'd said it, she pushed out, "Please, Roan. I need a couple days off." He made a little humming noise. "And I need somepony to go to Vanhoover." "Bramble." Sunrise forced her head up and tried to look at him without glaring. "She's a hard worker, she's hungry to prove herself, and—" The words stuck in her throat as stickery as an artichoke. "And she's probably better with other ponies than I am." She couldn't stop a sideways grin. "I mean, she can't be any worse, right?" Roan cocked his head, his smile a lot closer to a real smile. "Looks like we should've sent you into life-threatening peril years ago." He tapped his desk calendar. "How 'bout you come back next Monday? Or, y'know, any time before that to see if we can have another conversation without trying to bite each other's heads off." "I'd like that," she said, and she was more than a little amazed to find that she meant it. Unsure what was supposed to happen next—nearly every talk she'd had with her brother over the past decade or more had ended with her shouldering her way out of his presence while loudly launching snide remarks back to drown out the snide remarks he was aiming at her—she finally shrugged, said, "Thanks, Roan," and left. Bramble was still sitting on the front porch, her smile still absolutely phony. "Off into the wild blue yonder, then, Cousin?" she asked. Sunrise bristled automatically—Bramble regularly dug at her for being a pegasus—but the oddly contented warmth that was wafting around inside her somehow wouldn't ignite into her usual burning unhappiness. So she just gestured over her shoulder and said, "Roan wants to see you. Have a nice trip." Getting Bramble to look sour by being nice to her made Sunrise smile; she cantered down the porch steps and headed— Home. Alone. Same as always. Why had her life never bothered her before this? And why was it bothering her now? That the answer to both these questions had the word 'apple' in it almost convinced her to do some stomping along Ponyville's quiet streets, and while the idea of closing herself up inside her empty little house seemed unappealing, well, she didn't have any other ideas. None that were even remotely realistic, at any rate. She stopped off at Timothy Hay's cafe, bought a sandwich, and sat outside in the afternoon sunlight to eat it and watch the town go about its business. That killed maybe forty-five minutes, but after that... Maybe she could see if Rarity had picked up any juicy gossip while Sunrise had been away? Except Rarity would likely ask what Sunrise had been up to, and that wasn't a subject Sunrise had any interest in addressing. So home it was. The rest of the afternoon and evening, Sunrise lolled on her sofa and tried to finish a book she'd found on the train a few months ago, an action-adventure-romance thing that had been one of last year's best sellers. Unfortunately, though, every time the hero spoke, Sunrise heard a soft, countrified twang speaking the lines, and when she finally turned in after a supper of strawberries, oats, and kale, she decided that taking a week off was the worst idea she'd ever had in her whole entire life. Tomorrow morning, she'd head back to the fields and ask Roan if he had anything else that needed doing. Waking the next morning, she once again breathed her thanks to Princess Luna for sparing her from any dreams, ate a quick breakfast, combed her mane, and washed her face. It was a new day, and she was determined not to let the past hold her back any longer. Nodding to herself in the mirror, she slung her saddlebags over her back, took a step toward the front door— And somepony knocked on it. "Braeburn..." Red blew out wunna her extra large sighs. "If'n you'd wanted me to think you was home last night, you shoulda stuffed pillows or something under the blankets on your bed to make it look like you was in it." Standing in front of her desk, Braeburn flashed his best smile. "Could ya maybe pretend I did that, then?" She looked at him over the top of her half glasses. "This ain't a game, Little Brother. You go gallivanting out in a storm like that, you're likely to get yerself hurt. I told you that and trusted you'd do the right thing. And you didn't." Suddenly, holding that smile in place turned into the hardest thing he'd done in ages; he struggled a second, then let it drop. "I'm not a foal anymore, Red." "Then stop acting like one." She turned her attention back to the paperwork. "I ain't much interested in being a parent, truth to tell, but you keep this sorta thing up, I'll ground you like Pappy used to." "Ground me? But I—" Almost, Braeburn blurted out everything that'd happened during the storm last night, but for once in his life, he squeezed his fool mouth shut. Taking a breath and blowing it out, he said, "Look, Red, maybe...maybe I needta get away for a piece, do some thinking and some plain ol' apple bucking." It took some effort, but he managed to keep any bit of excitement off his face. "Maybe I could go visit Cousin Applejack. It'd get me out from underhoof here, and her and Granny Smith'd have plenty to keep me busy." Red looked back up again. "'Scuse me? You're volunteering to work?" His face went hot. "That ain't fair, Red. I don't shirk, and you know it." She at least had the decency to twitch her ears back. "Well, we got work here, too, if'n you're so eager." He'd already thought of an answer to that. "Work you won't let me do." He shook his head quickly. "Look, I don't wanna argue with you, Sis, but I know that's exactly what we're gonna be doing if'n I don't clear my head a little. We both trust Cousin Applejack: I know she won't baby me, and you know she won't let me do anything dangerous." Putting a pleading note into his voice was easy enough. "It'll just be a couple of days, a week at most. Then I'll be back, and we'll be okay." That she still hadn't come right out and said 'no' got a little thrilling chill to rustle his mane, but it was a long stretch of just the big clock on the mantelpiece ticking before she said, "I'd miss you." A lump wanted to clog his throat, but he snorted it away. "You mean you'd miss lording it over all them mares who come calling on you with pies and cakes and hay bales when they wanna pay court to me." Her smile had a greedy edge. "I don't know what you could possibly be referring to." She tapped a hoof on the desk. "But it's a right fine idea, getting you up to Ponyville and under the eye of them wealthy city mares. They even got a princess now, don't they?" She winked. "Can't imagine you'd mind that too awfully." And for all that she was starting to think the way he'd hoped she would, Braeburn still couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Red..." "Just funning with you, Brother." Stretching, she stood from the desk. "Reckon I'll stroll on down to the telegraph office and send AJ a note asking if she wouldn't mind putting you up for a spell." Braeburn somehow kept himself from hopping in place, but he did give Red a grin. "And I reckon I'll get a bag packed." He trotted across the room, held the door open for her, then started down the hallway; she was heading the opposite direction toward the front door, so he was very careful not to do any dance steps till he'd rounded the corner and got outta sight. Because when he'd woke that morning to find Sunrise gone, he'd jumped right up and practically stampeded himself into town. He'd remembered her saying that the desk clerk at her hotel had warned about the storm, so he'd run from the Grand Appleloosan to the Palmer House to the Century Inn before Hash Browns at the front desk of the Best Western had finally known who he was talking about. Coal Porter at the train station had told him she'd bought a ticket to Ponyville, and Braeburn had let out a whoop to hear it. If she was from Ponyville, then Cousin Applejack'd know where to find her. He just had to get himself to Ponyville. Which he was just about to do. Strawberry Sunrise wasn't like any other mare he'd ever met—funny and grouchy and still cute as a bug's ear—and even though she'd run off, he was one hundred percent sure that a straight-talker like her woulda told him she didn't wanna see him again if she didn't wanna see him again. And since she hadn't told him anything like that... Packing his bag took all of twenty seconds, and he stretched himself over the sofa in his sitting room to wait for Red to get back. And sure, he squirmed a little, thinking about the way he was lying to Red about all this. 'Cept he wasn't lying to her, not really. Not telling the whole unvarnished truth wasn't the same as lying—everypony knew that. And the way Red would wanna plant herself smack dab in the middle of Braeburn getting to know Sunrise better, well, he just plain didn't wanna think about how the two of them might get to butting heads. Maybe even literally if he knew his sister at all... The minutes crept past, and Braeburn got to squirming even more. Because hadn't Sunrise said she didn't have any real friends? Which meant that if Cousin Applejack did know her—and she had to if Sunrise lived in Ponyville—then the two didn't like each other. He'd hafta keep back a bit of the truth from AJ, too, looked like. He snorted. Why did ev'rything hafta be so complicated? By the time the minutes had multiplied out to an hour, Braeburn had gotten up three or four times to repack his bag. He wasn't trying to impress Sunrise, after all, so he didn't need his best hat and the vest that hugged his sides and made his barrel look so neat and trim. He was just...just... Yeah, okay, so maybe he was trying to impress her a mite. His second-best hat'd be fine, but back into the bag went the vest. Lunchtime came straggling in, and Braeburn rushed to the kitchen to slather himself together a quick sandwich before getting back to his room so he'd be there when Red told him he could go. And when she hadn't shown up a half hour after that, he found his eyes getting heavy the way they always did this time of day. He swore he'd only set his chin on his hooves for a second, but then he was starting awake to the clock softly chiming five. Red blinked at him when he rushed into her office. "I just sent the telegram, Bray. We still gotta wait for her to answer, y'know?" That night positively crawled, and while he didn't usually remember his dreams and didn't that night either, he did wake up with a powerful hankering for strawberries. Not that they had any: he'd only tasted 'em at the county fair once or twice, now that he thought about it... Extra cinnamon and sugar on his apple pancakes weren't the same, but Braeburn gave it a try, sitting with the resta the family in the chow hall where he could see the front walk in case Dashin' Dot from the telegraph office might stop by with AJ's reply. Instead, though, Little Strongheart came running up, pounding on the door, waving her hooves and looking mighty alarmed about something when Cousin Marigold answered. Marigold brought Strongheart into the chow hall, and the little buffalo told ev'rypony that wunna of the tribe's calves had gone missing in the storm two nights ago. The buffalo hadn't been able to find him, so they were hoping— Red didn't even give Strongheart time to finish before she was jumping to her hooves and calling out the names of squad leaders for search patrols. She didn't call his name, of course, but Braeburn caught his breath when she looked at him and said, "You're on my team, Brother." She stomped a hoof. "So let's move out!" And even though Braeburn wasn't looking anywhere near where the little fella turned up—the flood had washed him all the way down to the Pulgas's place south of town, and they'd been so busy getting the water distributed to their fields, they hadn't had time to send word out asking what family in the tribe might be missing a calf—it was still great to be out doing what he could to help. Trotting home beside Red with the sun finally setting, he felt like putting a strut in his step, but he was a mite too tuckered out for that. They came over the hill to see the lights of the ranch house bright at the end of the walk, and Red nudged her shoulder into his. "See? There's work you can do here." He blinked at her smile. "Y'mean you'll put me on the regular night patrol list?" Her smile faded, and that was all it took for ev'ry drop of warmth to drain outta his chest. He picked up his pace, ignored her when she called his name, and reached the front door before she did, his teeth clenched. A telegraph envelope was sticking out from the mail slot. Grabbing it, tearing it open, and reading Applejack's reply that he was welcome anytime was all it took: he just plain galloped to his room. His saddlebag lay draped over the sofa right where he'd left it; he slung it on and got back to the front door just as Red was clomping in. "Reckon I'll see you 'round," he said, not slowing up even when she called his name again. At the station, the next train to Ponyville wasn't leaving for another four hours. One to Baltimare was steaming at the platform right then, though, so he counted bits outta his bag for a ticket. He doubted Red would chase him here and try to talk him outta going, but he didn't wanna take that chance any more'n he wanted to sit around the depot all night. Huddled against the carriage window, he looked out at the darkness, his stomach grumbling to remind him he'd been on search and rescue patrol all day and was missing supper right now. But his throat was way too tight for him to think about forcing food down it. Because Sunrise had been right. Letting Red run his life wasn't any sorta answer to anything. When the train pulled in to Baltimare just after midnight, he managed to get halfway through a hayburger while waiting for the red-eye to Ponyville to start boarding, and he even slept some once he'd got his seat. Again, he didn't dream, but he woke up before dawn tasting strawberries. Grinning, he took himself down to the dining car and ordered pancakes smothered in 'em, sweet and tart—just like her—and so different from the apples he was used to. He was the first passenger off when the train pulled into Ponyville not long after sunup, and the questions he asked led him pretty quickly to a trim little cottage, bushes heavy with strawberries out front. Pausing for half a second—his good vest was still folded up in his bag, after all—he decided he didn't wanna wait, stepped up, and knocked on her door. In less time than it took for him to draw a breath, the door opened, and Strawberry Sunrise was blinking up at him, her mane and coat nicely currycombed, a pair of saddlebags across her back. This part, he'd thought about over the past couple days. Tipping his hat back a mite, he spread a long, slow smile across his face and said, "Morning, Sunrise." She did some more staring. "Braeburn? Where—? How—? What—? What're you doing here?" Shrugging with a nonchalance he didn't remotely feel, he waved a hoof. "I didn't getta chance to say good-bye." Her eyes widened ever further. "But you can't—! You can't just—! Just—!" Leaning forward, she was suddenly wrapping her hooves around his neck and hauling him inside. "Are you crazy? What if somepony sees you?" The touch of her hooves vanished and the door slammed behind him before he could get his balance back, but when he did manage to turn, she was hyperventilating, standing squeezed right up against the door, a drop or two of sweat trickling down the side of her face and her gaze riveted to him. Not sure if this was bad or good, he kept his tone light. "Now I know it ain't proper for a gentlestallion to call upon a young unaccompanied mare like this, but, well, I couldn't rightly send you a letter telling you I was coming since I didn't know your address. But the stationmaster at the depot asked wunna them taxicab haulers, and he asked another, and they finally told me how I could track you down." None of this seemed to soothe her in the slightest. "You asked taxicab ponies? Plural? How to get to my house? You?" "Ummm..." This was definitely not heading in the direction he'd hoped it might. "Did I do something wrong, Sunrise? D'you—" He had to swallow. "D'you want me to go?" "No!" She jumped away from the door, then pushed herself back up against it again. "I just...I wasn't expecting you!" He nodded, and it finally clicked in his head that she was wearing saddlebags. Biting back a curse, he couldn't help slumping a little. "I shoulda figured out a way to get word to you, the way it looks like you're heading out and all." With an effort, he made himself smile. "Anyplace I can walk you to? "No!" she shouted again, then she slapped a hoof over her face. "I mean, no, I'm not heading anywhere." The breath she took in was deep and deliberate, and for the first time that morning, she didn't have white around her eyes when she looked at him. "I took the week off, actually, after everything that happened Monday. You...you couldn't've come at a better time. Except—" A salty sourness came into her scent, and this time it was her doing the slumping. "I don't really know what we could do..." Grinning, Braeburn resolutely held his tongue against the lascivious thoughts popping into his head, and Sunrise started blushing, the whole room filling with the sweet aroma of strawberries. A damsel in distress brought all his chivalry to the surface, though, and he asked, "How 'bout breakfast? You pick a place, and I'll treat." "You don't have to do that," she mumbled, looking at the carpet and shifting from hoof to hoof. "But I can if'n I want to." He reached out, touched her chin, smiled into her startled eyes when her head snapped up. "Can't I?" Her expression stayed panicked for longer than he cared for, but finally she gave the tiniest possible nod, pulled the door open, and stepped outside as draggy as a pony on her way to the dentist. She was still wearing her saddlebags, so Braeburn kept his on, too, followed her out, then fell in beside her. "So!" he said, trying to be jaunty enough for the both of them. "You got a place picked out?" "Place?" Her ears buckled, and she somehow got even more panicked. "Place for what?" His jauntiness slipped a mite. "Uhh, breakfast?" "Oh! Right!" Her lips twitched into something that could've been a smile. "We, uhh, we could go to Timothy Hay's, I guess. It's pretty good—I mean, it's the only place I ever go, but I assume it's good compared to other places. Except since, y'know, I haven't been to any other places, I don't really know. I don't know where else we could go, though, or why...why I'm still talking..." She closed her eyes and shook her head quickly. "I'm sorry. I...I'm not usually like this..." Braeburn cocked his head. "Cute and charming, y'mean?" He thought it was a pretty cute and charming line himself, so Sunrise's shout of "Exactly!" made him blink. "I told you!" she went on. "I'm a grouch and a—!" She blushed some more, her eyes shifting from side to side. "Sorry," she said again. She looked so down in the mouth, Braeburn decided to keep up the cute and charming stuff. "Well, now, Sunrise, all I've got to say is that I've met grouches before. And based on the time I've spent with you, I wouldn't call you one of 'em." Instead of cheering her up, though, this little speech just made her heave a heavier sigh. "Yeah, I know. And that's the problem." Not sure what to do next, Braeburn started forming up a comment about the weather, but then she was nodding forward and saying, "We're here," in a voice as drab and dusty as an unwatered orchard. It seemed a nice enough place full of happily chatting ponies, but the way Sunrise's gaze kept flitting around, Braeburn started thinking trouble might be brewing. A few of the ponies did sorta look sideways at the two of them as the waiter showed them to a table on the patio, and for all that he wanted to think they were admiring either him or Sunrise, their expressions more ran the gamut from surprised to annoyed. He asked for a bowl of porridge with strawberries on it, beaming at her while he did so. Her smile went way too wide, her eyes still shifting while she said, "Just water for me, thanks." Which was about as far as cute and charming was gonna get him, he figured. "OK," he said quietly, leaning toward her, "maybe you've noticed how me and subtle don't have much more'n a nodding acquaintance? So if I've done something stupid, Sunrise, you gotta say so or it's just gonna fly right on past me." "No!" she said not quite as loudly as she'd shouted it before. She reached across the table and took his hooves between hers. "It's not you, Braeburn. It's—" "What in tarnation?" an all-too-familiar contralto asked, and glancing over, he just about winced to see Applejack standing there wide-eyed, a cart of apples hitched up behind her. "Cousin Braeburn? Holding hooves with Strawberry Sunrise?" Sunrise jerked away like he'd stung her, and when he wheeled his head back around to see if she was okay, she was staring just as wide-eyed back at AJ. "Cousin?" she more choked than said. "You're darn tootin'!" AJ shrugged outta her harness and stormed up to the edge of the restaurant's patio. "When Cousin Red said you wanted to come up for a visit, I wouldn'ta said 'sure' if'n I'd known it meant you was gonna be canoodling with the likes of her!" Braeburn recognized the way Sunrise's lips tightened from the times he'd seen Red about to start yelling. But then the anger on her face just plain cracked, her eyes pulling closed, her breath unsteady when she sucked it in. "That's right," she said quietly. "The likes of me." She sprang from the table, her eyes flashing open, and spun to face the resta the folks eating breakfast. "Hooves up, all of you I've insulted or complained to or shouted at! Come on, now! Don't be shy!" Half a dozen hooves shot into the air right away, their owners giving nasty little smiles. And as Braeburn stared, another dozen or so ponies sorta swallowed and slowly lifted their hooves, too. "So." Sunrise turned back, his lower lip quivering and her eyes closed again. "That's why." His throat went all jagged inside him. "Sunrise?" he managed to force out. She shook her head as fast as if she'd felt bees in her mane, her voice rougher'n sandpaper. "Go home, Braeburn. Just...go home." She pushed away from the table and bounded away up the street. 4: BlossomsSprawled on the sofa with her mother's strawberry-embroidered comforter covering her face, Sunrise knew for an incontrovertible fact that she was an idiot. Of course, that knowledge wasn't useful in any way, shape, or form. But recognizing it, she felt, was marginally better than not recognizing it... She'd had a vague hope after she'd barreled through the front door, slammed it shut behind herself, and tumbled onto the sofa that she might hear a light knocking and Braeburn calling gently through the mail slot, It's okay! I don't care that you're a nasty, vindictive, sanctimonious jerk— But even in her fantasy, she would shout, "Well, you should care! And here's why!" She would then loudly and carefully list all her various faults and would conclude by stating the plain and simple fact that Braeburn really shouldn't want anything to do with her. Five times she restarted and ran through this scenario, and each time, her imaginary self ended up driving him away just as thoroughly as her real self had. Because by then it had become painfully obvious that he wasn't going to be knocking on her door, that he'd evidently wised up, taken the advice she'd given him at the restaurant, and had gotten back on the train to Appleloosa just the way she'd wanted him to. It was for the best. And she was a complete and total idiot. She was just considering maybe piling the actual sofa cushions on top of herself as well as the blanket when somepony did start knocking at the door. It was more a pounding than a knocking, actually, and as she sat up, the quilt still draping down over her head and shoulders, a hard-toned mare's voice shouted, "Strawberry Sunrise! You open this door right this gol-durned minute, or I swear to my Granny Smith, there won't be nothing left of it but kindling!" "Applejack!" another mare exclaimed, her voice more familiar, a bit higher, and nowhere near as murderous. "We agreed that I would do the talking, did we not?" "We didn't do nothing of the sort! I only went looking for you 'cause I couldn't recollect where this low-down polecat of a pony lived!" "There's no need for name-calling! Strawberry's a bit of a, well, an acquired taste, one might say, but I certainly wouldn't call her a polecat!" That was Rarity, all right: Sunrise couldn't imagine any other pony in this town sticking up for her like that. "A snake in the grass, then!" The whole house rattled when Applejack smacked the door this time, and Sunrise dragged herself to her hooves, shook the comforter off, and plodded into the entryway. "A wasp and a hornet and a big ol' horsefly all rolled into one! One solid, total, and unadulterated—!" "Bitch?" Sunrise asked, pulling the door open and glaring at the two ponies. "Is that the word you're looking for, maybe?" "It ain't!" Applejack stomped a hoof. "It's a pure insult to every female dog I've ever known to use that word for the likes of you!" Nasty comebacks galloped unbridled through Sunrise's head, but she pushed them all away. "Fine! 'Polecat' it is, then! Now get off my front stoop!" She stepped back to slam the door, but Rarity practically leaped across the threshold. "Strawberry, wait! What in the wide, wide world of Equestria is this all about?" She shot a sour glance over her shoulder. "Applejack dragged me out of my workroom gibbering about you and her cousin, but that doesn't make any sense! No sense at all!" "Exactly!" Sunrise shouted at the same time as Applejack, but when Applejack stopped to blink, Sunrise forced herself to go on. "Braeburn deserves the best, most beautiful, sweetest, and gentlest mare the world has ever known, not some bitter, thoughtless, useless—" her throat constricted, but the words wouldn't stop "—mean, dried-up, awful..." And she only stopped then because she ran out of breath. Her gaze had gotten blurry; gritting her teeth, she wiped her eyes, blinked, and found that she was looking at the entryway carpet. Taking a shaky breath, she raised her head— And the other two were staring at her like she'd sprouted a horn. "Land sakes," Applejack said more quietly than Sunrise had ever heard the farmpony speak. "You got it bad, don'tcha?" Not trusting her voice, Sunrise just nodded. Rarity's eyes shimmered. "And Braeburn came all the way from Appleloosa just to surprise you, didn't he?" Again, Sunrise could only nod. Applejack reared back, grabbed her hat, and slammed it to the ground. "Consarn it!" She aimed a front hoof at Sunrise like it was a dagger. "You answer me true, then, Strawberry Sunrise! What's your intentions toward my cousin Braeburn?" "Intentions?" Sure enough, her voice cracked; Sunrise cleared her throat and tried to sort through the jumble in her head. "Well, he saved my life and completely messed it up at the same time. I mean, he pulls me out of this flashflood, we talk for a couple hours, and the next thing I know, I'm having a real conversation with my brother for the first time in maybe two decades! I'm taking time off work, and I never take time off work! It's just—" She pulled in another breath. "He's this great guy and I'd like to get to know him better and it looks like maybe he feels the same and he's just so gorgeous!" Her face went hot. "Uhh, I mean—" "'Sall right, sugar cube." Applejack's smile stretched a little tight over her muzzle, but it was still a smile. "If'n he weren't such a close relation, I'd likely be up paying court at Cousin Red's place, too." She turned to Rarity. "Reckon we can get Twilight to help?" "I should say so!" Rarity wiped the trickle of mascara from the corner of her eye. "It's everypony's duty to help steady the course of true love!" "Love?" A lot more than just Sunrise's face started heating up. "Look, I don't know if I'd go that far. I mean, I only met him two days ago, and—" "'Sall right," Applejack said again. "Whenever she gets wound up, you just gotta let her go." She grabbed her hat from the ground with her teeth and flipped it up to land perfectly between her ears. "But let's get on over to the castle and get this whole thing started." "Started?" Sunrise had to wince; was she a parrot suddenly, repeating everything everypony said? Shaking her head, she planted her hooves more firmly in the entryway carpet. "Okay, I'm going to need to know what's going on before I set hoof outside this house." "Love!" Rarity practically sang. "We shall call upon the very powers of the cosmos itself to bring your two hearts together!" Sunrise blinked at her, then turned to Applejack. Applejack rolled her eyes. "Ain't another train to Appleloosa till four o'clock this afternoon. We wanna get there afore Braeburn, so we'll hafta have Twilight magic us over." As much as Sunrise wanted to repeat several of Applejack's words, she forced herself not to. "Still not getting it here," she said, refusing to let herself hope. Applejack sighed. "Twilight'll transport you and me down to Appleloosa, and we'll have the better part of a day to wrastle Cousin Red into letting you court Braeburn." She gave a sideways smile. "Good thing you're as ornery as you are, Strawberry, 'cause I reckon we're gonna need ev'ry ounce we can muster." Wings shooting out, Sunrise leaped into the air, dove through the door, and hovered over Applejack and Rarity. "Then what're we just standing around here for?" she shouted. Rarity let loose with an almost maniacal laugh, Applejack's "Yee-haw!" echoing from the houses up and down the street. They both wheeled and began galloping toward Princess Twilight's castle, and Sunrise swooped into place above them, her whole body lighter than it had ever been before. Staring out the window, Braeburn found himself wondering what it'd be like to just get out here, just hop off the end of the train, tumble down the embankment into the sand, and start walking under that big blue sky toward the desert's horizon, wavery in the afternoon heat. This particular stretch of land was empty as an unpacked crate, and he was feeling more'n a little that way himself. Go home, she'd said, and those two little words, hardly taking up half a breath between 'em, had just clawed right into his chest and tore out every living part he'd had tucked away up in there. Not that this was the first time he'd had a mare reject him, of course. Sure, he was the one who usually broke things off when it turned out she wanted a trophy instead of a coltfriend, but sometimes he'd just be getting to know whatever pony he was dating when Red'd call him into her office to tell him that the mare had decided things weren't working out. And he'd blink and nod and get back to his chores, and pretty quick, there'd be another mare fluttering her eyelashes at him in town or in Red's office, and the whole thing'd start again. There was always more mares, it seemed, all pretty much cute and smart and friendly and whatever— But none of 'em was her. And now, even she wasn't her. Braeburn shifted in his seat, pretty sure that last thought hadn't made a licka sense. He knew what he meant, though. Sunrise didn't want nothing to do with him—or rather, didn't want him to have nothing to do with her 'cause she didn't think he could really want to have anything to do with her. Which got his teeth clenching more'n a little. Why was it so many ponies keep telling him that what he wanted wasn't what he wanted? Sure, he weren't the sharpest plow in the field, but he weren't exactly dumb as a box of frogs neither! First Pappy, then his aunts and uncles, then Red and Sheriff Silverstar and pretty much ev'rypony in Appleloosa, they all reckoned they knew him better'n he did himself! Though if he was being honest, he had to admit they sometimes did. Too many times in the past when Red had given in and let him try one of his ideas, he'd turned out wrong and she'd turned out right. So it wasn't like they kept him on a short leash to be mean or anything. Blowing out a breath took all his anger with it, his shoulders loosening. He slumped against the window and watched the buttes appear to the east the way they did just before the tracks came into the depot. It wasn't like he had a bad life. He just needed to be more careful or less willful or better at understanding what things were truly doable and what things just plain weren't. The conductor came through the car announcing the station, and Braeburn gathered his saddlebag from under the seat. Managing expectations, Red called it when she had her little half glasses on. Mind his 'P's and 'Q's, and maybe she'd let him start going out with the night patrol again someday... The train rattled and shook and ground to a halt, Braeburn nodding to the other ponies on board and letting them get off first. He weren't in any hurry, after all. Stepping off the train last, he started for the end of the platform when a very familiar clearing of throat folded his ears. He snapped his head over to see his sister standing in front of a luggage cart while beside her— "Cousin Applejack?" He blinked, then joy bubbled over inside his chest. Because standing next to AJ— "Sunrise!" And he couldn't keep from galloping over, his hooves light and dancing underneath him. The looks on the three mares' faces made him check his rush a mite: Sunrise had pinked up cuter'n any pony had a right to be; AJ was glancing toward Red with as smug a grin as Braeburn had ever seen; and Red, though she was a head taller'n the other two, broader of chest and bigger all 'round, she suddenly looked like a filly who'd gotten herself lost at the county fair. "There you go," AJ more purred than said. "Might be you see what we mean 'bout how Braeburn feels now." Red's eyes narrowed, and just about all the softness vanished from her expression. "Braeburn?" she asked in the tone she always used when she was about to tell him in exact detail how and why he'd fouled things up. "You know this Strawberry Sunrise?" "I—" He swallowed, but Sunrise's warm, solid gaze fixed on him somehow made his breath more regular. "I pulled her outta the crick during the storm Monday, and we spent the night together." "You what?" Red's stomp shook the whole station. Braeburn winced. "Not like that! We was wrapped up in blankets with a pot-belly stove between us!" He glared at her, then turned to look at Sunrise some more. "She told me I needed to do what made me happy." This time, he let about half a glare sharpen his features. "But when I tried to tell her that being with her made me happy, she said I was too good for her and told me to go home." Puffing the glare away, he took another step toward Sunrise. "So what're you doing here? And how'd you get here afore me?" Her grin lit up the whole station. "Apparently, it pays to have friends," she said, and she nudged AJ in the ribs with an elbow. AJ snorted a laugh, but ev'rything about Sunrise got real serious real quick. "I made a mistake back in Ponyville, Braeburn." Her mouth went sideways, and she pointed a half-glare of her own in Red's direction. "It's not my place to be telling you what you ought to be doing with your life, and if you'd like to spend some of your time getting to know me—" She took a step toward him, and Braeburn caught his breath at the shimmer in her eyes. "I'd like to spend some time getting to know you." Off in his peripheral vision, he saw Red shifting from hoof to hoof, but he was only paying attention to the mare in front of him. "I—" Her voice wavered. "I don't know how this'll work exactly. I mean, this land out here is perfect strawberry country. I could probably convince my brother Roan to let me set up a field, try selling Appleloosa's farmers on the idea of strawberries by, y'know, getting to know them and letting them get to know me, take things slow and easy, be friendly, that sort of thing." She swallowed, her gaze flitting from side to side when he took another step toward her. "That's some advice I got from somepony once, at any rate." Feeling like his whole body was smiling, Braeburn took one last step, bent down, and touched his lips to hers. She made a little squeaking noise, raised her head, met his lips more firmly, and Braeburn kinda lost track of things for a while after that. Finally, though, he had to come up for air, but Sunrise took her own one more step forward, tucking her head against the side of his neck. "It's the 'be friendly' part that's got me a little worried," she murmured. He couldn't help chuckling at that. "You're a natural," he said. "Trust me." Looking past where AJ stood grinning, he fixed on where Red stood scowling. "And it just so happens my family's got some property that'd be perfect." "Bray," Red growled. "It's my land, too, Sis, and there's spots that're sitting fallow right now, ain't there?" He stroked a hoof along Sunrise's back, his heart pounding even harder when she shivered. "And if anypony can make it work, it's this pony right here." Sunrise shifted against his chest, and this time, he was the one shivering. "It'll be entirely risk free for you, Ms. Gravenstein," she said. "But if it works out, you'll be in for a share of the profits. I can have paperwork here tomorrow with all the details. Shall we say noon in your office?" The twitch at the corner of Red's eye told Braeburn she was annoyed, but the glint there said she was smelling bits. "Fine," she said after a long, long moment. "Tomorrow at noon." She turned and started down the platform. "Best you start calling me 'Red,' too, I reckon." AJ smacked the floor and gave out a hoot, and Braeburn looked down at the beautiful mare cuddled up against him. "Well, now, Strawberry Sunrise. Looks like you made yourself a sale." "Y'know?" She licked her lips. "Not really interested in that right now." She stretched her neck up, and he bent down to meet her halfway.
1: Seeds"Well, now!" Cherry Jubilee's jowly face lit up, her jaw chomping away. "That's mighty tasty, ain't it?" And only then, Sunrise noticed with a carefully supressed shudder, did the mare swallow. "Ain't never had a strawberry like that afore!" "Thank you!" Sunrise struggled to keep smiling. If everything here turned out, she would forgive this portly prima donna her ignorance, her lack of manners, the dust that lay over her desk like a tablecloth, the way her whole podunk town smelled like nopony in it had ever heard of indoor plumbing... "Similar to cherries, strawberries pack a lot of sweetness into a small package." As always, addressing this subject solidified Sunrise's smile. "But they grow at ground level for easy harvesting, and there's no worrying about that big seed in the middle! One simple pluck, and they're ready to eat!" Cherry Jubilee was nodding. "I could plant 'em along the edges of all my orchards, maybe even out among the rows." She dug into the box Sunrise had brought with her this trip and popped another berry into her gaping maw. "Congratulations, Strawberry Sunrise! You've done made yourself a sale!" If there were any sweeter words in any language, Sunrise had never heard them. She flipped her saddlebags open with a wing and dug out the standard contract. "Just sign here, ma'am, and we'll get the process started." "Process?" A sour little whiff came into Cherry Jubilee's loamy aroma. "Ain't'cha gonna sell me the seeds right now?" Sunrise's smile got shaky again. "My brother, Strawberry Roan, handles the actual cultivars, ma'am." Flexing her wings, she forced her voice to stay light and fluffy. "Roan lets me bring clouds in to water the plants, but anything more than that's just asking for trouble, isn't it?" Of course, Cherry Jubilee grinned at that—earth ponies always found it hilarious that a pegasus was working in agriculture. But as soon as Ms. Jubilee had signed the contract and stamped out a bank draft for a full two years of field service, Sunrise decided once again that she could be forgiving. "It's the best decision you've ever made," Sunrise said, tucking the paperwork back into her panniers. "Roan'll be getting in touch with you by the end of the week, and on behalf of the whole Strawberry Family, I thank you." Down the front steps of the main house at Cherry Hill Ranch and all the way back to Dodge Junction, Sunrise let herself bask in the warmth of a job well done. Sure, this was still the back end of nowhere, but that was the task Sunrise had given herself: to spread the word about the wonders of strawberries to dim-witted yokels who couldn't hold a thought together long enough to realize that their lives were never going to amount to anything. Unless they were growing strawberries: then at least they'd be doing something worthwhile with themselves... At the raggedy log cabin that called itself the local post office, Sunrise counted out the bits to send the paperwork back to Ponyville by next-day express. She'd had reason to do that three times so far this trip, but with a commercial operation like Cherry Hill now signed on, she could almost see Roan's bushy eyebrows shooting to the top of his forehead. She may have been the first pegasus born into the family in more than three hundred years, but if this didn't prove that she was just as much a Strawberry as the rest of them, she didn't know what would. Actually, though, with the business she'd drummed up out here in the hinterland this past month, she finally had the bits to pursue her secret plan, the idea she'd had boiling in the back of her head for years without ever once so much as suggesting it to Roan. She took a breath, pulled a pen from her saddlebag, and forced her teeth not to shiver as she carefully wrote a quick note to slip in with the contract: It's time, Roan. Time to carry the fight to the enemy. Time to go where no Strawberry has gone before. Expect a couple contracts in the mail from Appleloosa by this time next week, or I'm not your little sister! She signed the note, gave it to the postal pegasus, put her pen away, and marched toward the Dodge Junction railway station. "Aw, c'mon, Red!" With anypony else, Braeburn would've done his level best to keep that whiny tone out of his voice. But with his big sister, he found it worked more often than not. "It's my turn, ain't it?" Red rolled her eyes behind those little half glasses she always wore when she was at her desk. "Any other time, Bray, I'd go with the roster and send you out on patrol tonight. But we hired them pegasi to bring that storm through, and that means there's likely to be more ponies needing help than usual." And even though she showed him how much she thought he was still a foal every hour of every day of every week of every year, hearing her come right out and say that she didn't trust him to do a stallion's job somehow made it worse. Maybe that whole 'whiny voice' thing hadn't been the best idea after all... But he could still save this. He could pull off anything, he reckoned, if'n he set his mind to it. "I'm just asking you to let me do my fair share, Red." He took up one of his best poses: chest out, head high, the steely look in his eye that got mares sighing whenever he let himself strut a little along any street in Appleloosa. "I know I got a lot to live up to being your brother and all, but I ain't never let'cha down yet, has I?" And that's when he let his smile loose, the one that got even more sighs out and about. "Really?" Red never gave him her full glare over the top of her glasses, but, well, she came mighty close every now and again. "Like when you twisted your leg all up right before the rodeo? Or maybe when that pro-level buckball team you said you was gonna put together got beat by Cousin Applejack's team of a baker, a volunteer vet'rinarian, and some grade-school colt? Or maybe when you promised—" "All right, all right!" Braeburn took a breath and blew all his temper out with it. Getting peeved never solved any problem, and besides, it made his forehead wrinkly. "I know I'm sometimes a little—" He searched for a word and finally decided to go with: "—flaky. But—" "But nothing, Bray." Red focused her attention back down to her paperwork. "You're gonna make some mare a wonderful husband someday, but till then, how 'bout you take tonight off and let the rest of us handle the big jobs, okay? Don't make the patrol steeds break off their duties and escort you back. 'Cause I've told 'em to do that if'n they catch you out there tonight." The tone of her voice told him that was the end of that. "If'n you say so, Ms. Red Gravenstein." But then he also knew how much she hated her full name. With the heat of her glare warming his backside, he put just a bit of a strut in his step leaving her office, but it didn't last much more'n a few paces down the hall outside. It'd taken him the better part of a year to convince Red he had gumption enough to be on the volunteer night patrol list, walking the territory 'round Appleloosa to help any travelers who might've got stranded out in the desert or even ol' Pimiento get home safe if'n he'd had one lick too many at the saloon. Braeburn's first two turns on patrol last month and the month before had been a couple of the best nights of his life. Sure, the most exciting thing that'd happened to him and Burled Spruce, the veteran he'd been partnered with, was getting a couple acorns chucked at 'em by a raccoon they'd had to chivvy outta the Widow Redbank's barn. But just the feeling of being out there in the dark wearing wunna them silvery vests and knowing that if something happened, he was gonna be there on the front lines helping— 'Cept now, of course, he wasn't. And right when they was gonna need all able hooves, too: heading for his room, he looked out the big window at the back of the house and saw the black clouds swelling up to swallow the last pink and orange bits of the sunset. He could almost hear the whistles of the weatherponies guiding the storm in, too, a seasonal mass of rain that'd perk up orchards all over the whole countryside. And where was he gonna be? "Out in it," he muttered, rearing back and sprinting down the hall. Pushing into his room, he grabbed a yellow rain poncho and one of his more battered hats, didn't even hardly stop to give himself the once-over in the mirror, then galloped for the back door. He'd have to keep outta sight of the other patrolers, but by Celestia and Luna, he was gonna make a difference if'n one needed making!
2: StemsThe roll of thunder twisted Sunrise's ears when she was still a mile outside Appleloosa's city limits sign. Not that anything about this tumbleweed-infested dust bowl resembled a city, of course, though she would've been happy to talk for days about the limits of the place. "Storm coming up," the latest farmer to refuse her generous offer had said as she'd stepped out his back door to shake the dust of the cabin from her hooves. Yes, his wife had told her she could stay the night, but by that time, she'd had enough of this entire part of the world and all the ponies in it. "Thank you," she'd said, showing her teeth in an expression she'd been certain the bumpkins would mistake for a smile. "But strawberries take well to damp conditions." She'd left them one of Roan's cards in case they changed their mind and had started back along what they called a road in the direction of what they called a town. Lightning forked through the black above, and the thunder this time followed almost immediately. The intervals between flash and rumble had been shrinking for the twenty minutes or so that she'd been walking, and she'd been walking the whole time because the turbulence had been increasing. Growing up in an earth pony family, she'd never really felt the need to take flight training all that seriously; she hadn't done any sustained flying, now that she thought about it, since pitching in with Ponyville's other pegasi to help raise the water from Highland Reservoir to Cloudsdale two years ago... She shifted her shoulders under her saddlebags. With the way her luck had been going since arriving here, she wouldn't be at all surprised if she was equally distant from the town and the nearest farm at this point. Which of course would mean that— A raindrop splashed against the tip of her nose, and Sunrise closed her eyes. Just keep walking. What was the worst that could—? The lightning and thunder hit simultaneously, a fiery explosion that frizzed her mane and tail and sent her jumping right off the ground. Spreading her wings, she landed easily enough, but that was when the sky opened up, water crashing down over her like a vertical flood; she barely had time to take a breath before the dirt beneath her hooves became mud, the mud flowing and making her slip, her flailing legs suddenly finding nothing but liquid in every direction. "Waaahh!" she shouted—or something equally dignified, she was sure—and then she was falling, tumbling, sluicing away in the cold and the wet with no up or down anywhere. Struggling just seemed to spin her faster and in a wider variety of directions, but then she felt the solid downward pull of gravity, her jangled sense of balance clearing just in time to tell her she was plummeting sideways off the edge of something. Reflexively, she tried to flap, to slow her fall at least if she couldn't get airborne, but the air around her was more water than anything else; all she managed to do was slue herself around so that, when she smashed down into the actual water, she hit with her chest instead of her flank. That let her churn her legs, though, and that kept her head up in the part of the atmosphere that was partially breathable. And since she could breathe, "Help!" she shouted, sure that nopony was anywhere within five furlongs of— "Hang on!" a baritone voice called from ahead. Something yellow and vaguely pony-shaped seemed to waver out of the darkness above her, something yellow and thin swirling around it. "I'm gonna try lassoing you!" The thin something lashed out from the pony-shaped something, and Sunrise reached for it, felt a twist of rope tangling her forelegs while the river or whatever she'd fallen into tried to spin her away. She wasn't about to let that happen, though, so she tightened her grip, flapped her wings faster, kicked her hind legs, and yelled, "I've got it! Pull!" The rope cinched around her elbows and wrenched her upward, Sunrise wincing as her stretched shoulders and her frantically pumping wing muscles twinged simultaneously. Gritting her teeth, she didn't even try to guide herself, just tried to make herself as light as possible and trusted the pony hauling her in to— The motion of the rope hitched, and Sunrise plowed face first into what felt like a mountain of mud. Sputtering, she pushed away with her hind legs, her forelegs still clinging to the rope, and heard that voice call out, "You okay, buddy?" She spat out enough of the slop to shout, "Just pull!" And the next thing she knew, she was jerked out of the pitch-blackness into something grayer and more open, the heave of the rope a sideways thing all of a sudden. She wasn't ready for the shift, of course, nor did the yokel who'd grabbed her seem to notice that she'd cleared the lip of whatever cliff she'd been washed over. He kept pulling, at any rate, and she kept flapping; she just barely had time to realize what was about to happen when they smashed into each other. "Ooof!" he grunted, folding under her like cheap patio furniture. Sunrise thought she might've said something similar, but she was too busy grabbing hold of the first solid object she'd been near in the last several minutes. He felt very solid, too, warm even through the yellow rain slicker he was wearing. His forelegs closed around her, held her nice and firmly, and his little gasp of breath was followed by a chuckle. "Well, now. Mighty pleased to meet'cha, ma'am." Which made the cold flood back, and she pushed away as much as she could without actually letting go. Sure, she was in no condition to stand on her own, but that didn't mean she had to lie there and let this hayseed paw at her. "And I suppose," she managed to squeeze out between chattering teeth, "you've got some hovel nearby you'll be hauling me to so you can have your way with me?" "Ma'am?" She could just make out his face through the continuing downpour, a face more rounded than chiseled, something coltish about it even though the pony beneath her was definitely a stallion. He blinked eyes that could've been blue or could've been green: she couldn't tell in the darkness. "I'm with the Appleloosa night patrol!" he called over the rush of the rain. "We help ponies when they're in trouble!" The cold that flooded Sunrise then had nothing to do with the weather; her face heated up, though, as the stallion went on: "We've got an emergency shelter just over yonder!" He jerked his chin to her left. "'Tain't much, but it's got walls and a roof, blankets and a stove!" He moved under her, somehow twisted and slid till he was rising to his hooves with her draped over his back. "You hang on, ma'am, and I'll get us there lickety-split!" "Fine." She hesitated an instant before moving to wrap her forelegs loosely around his neck, and only then did she remember to say, "Thank you." He didn't answer, just started off in the direction he'd gestured to earlier. Sunrise swallowed against the tightness in her throat and felt glad she wasn't in a position where she had to look into those sweet, wide eyes of his again. Braeburn cursed himself for an idjit. How could he come all the way out here into a storm situation and forget to bring a second poncho in case he actually found somepony who needed it? And asking her to crawl off so he could re-sling his poncho to cover them both sounded like a bad idea. Best to get moving. At least the nearest shelter wasn't far from the bank of the swollen crick he'd pulled the mare out of; still, she was shivering something fierce by the time he saw the little cabin. "Here we go!" Trying to keep his voice cheery, he pushed in through the planks that made up the door. "Nice and cozy!" The words popped out before he could stop them, and he winced, remembering the first thing she'd said to him after he'd gotten her up the embankment. It didn't help that the shelter wasn't nice and cozy. Like she'd said, it was a hovel maybe half the size of his bedroom back at the ranch, every bit as dark and cold as it was outside though a fair sight drier... But he couldn't let it bother him. She was frozen and soaked and tired, prob'bly scared and maybe even in shock. He hadn't had too much training—mostly just memorizing where all the emergency shelters were and what they had stocked in 'em—but a quick glance showed him the pot-bellied stove had a good stack of split wood beside it. At least he could get the place warmed up. Carefully, he squatted onto the straw mat in front of the stove. "Now you just set yourself right down here, ma'am. I'll get the fire lit and get you some towels and blankets." She didn't move, and Braeburn couldn't keep his ears from folding. But no: he could feel her belly pushing and drawing back with her breath, her grip still good and tight around his shoulders, her heart beating where she'd tucked herself up close against him. And it was only a couple of those heartbeats before she slid off and murmured another little, "Thank you." "You're welcome," he said, standing and keeping as quiet and gentle as he could. The flint and steel sat on a shelf beside where the stove's pipe went out through the back wall, but even after he'd sparked the tinder in the pan, slid it back into place, and gotten a couple logs tucked in and burning nicely, the thing didn't put out a whole lotta light. Not that he needed much: crossing the room took him all of three steps, and the closet to the right of the stove had a good stock of soft, thick, cotton sheets. He carried one over to her, shook it open, and laid it across her trembling wings. "We got plenty of 'em, ma'am, so when one gets too damp, just dump it off and grab another." A few more quick back-and-forths, and he had four blankets stacked up beside her. That's when he realized he was still wearing his gear. Unfastening the poncho and knocking his hat to the floor, he grabbed two more blankets, dried himself good with one, then wrapped up in the other. The pegasus mare, he was glad to see, had done the same; she had two blankets crumpled in a heap to her left and was huddled under the third, her eyes closed and her face all afrown. She wasn't shivering no more, though, so Braeburn settled to the other mat about a quarter turn 'round the stove from where she was laying. The rain sounded mighty loud against the walls and roof, so he pitched his voice against it: "We got water and hardtack if'n you need anything to eat or drink, ma'am. It's nothing fancy, but—" "Sunrise," she said, not opening her eyes. "I'm Strawberry Sunrise." Skittish is what she was, but then he reckoned that was more'n a little understandable. "I'm Braeburn." He didn't wanna get too personal, but he did wanna get her talking, maybe get her cheered up a little, and— And that was when he remembered the question he shoulda asked her maybe fifteen minutes ago. "Was you traveling by yourself, Sunrise? I didn't see no other ponies when I saw you, but if'n you had friends, I better head on back." "What? No!" Her eyes shot open. "Out there in that? Besides, all I had was my—" Her eyes went even wider. "My panniers and case!" She leaped up, her wings lifting the blanket off her back, and even in the shadowy flickers the stove gave out, Braeburn could see she wasn't wearing any saddlebags. "Just absolutely perfect!" Her whole face cinched up tight and angry, and she slumped back to the mat, the blanket falling across her again. "Without those contracts and samples, I might as well not even be here!" Swallowing a sigh, Braeburn pushed himself onto all fours. "Could you describe them bags, ma'am?" "What? No!" she said again, her ears disappearing into the wet red tangle of her mane. "Forget about them! You...you've already suffered enough for my mistakes." Her voice trailed off, and Braeburn found himself thinking it was a cute little voice when she wasn't growling with it. Then her actual words hit him, and he shook his head. "Ain't no mistakes involved, I reckon, ma'am. You're not from 'round here, so there's no way you woulda known we had this big ol' gully washer scheduled." She snorted. "The desk clerk at the hotel told me this morning, but I didn't listen. I mean, why would I pay any attention to anything anypony else might say or think?" Her voice was getting growly again. "I've been making one mistake after another since deciding to come to Appleloosa, and it's long past time to cut my losses." Her head drooped onto her forelegs, and her eyes drew shut. "I might as well head home..." Braeburn blinked, not sure he should say anything, but, well, he couldn't let her lay there soaking in rainwater and misery, could he? "Least your folks and friends'll be glad to have you back." That seemed a safe bet at least, a pretty little mare like her. Nothing but the whoosh of the storm outside for a fair stretch of time, then Sunrise gave a quieter sorta snort. "Friends? There's one mare in town, a tailor I sometimes share gossip with—she says her other friends are too nice to get into the real juicy stuff—but that's about it." She raised her head, and in the dim light, her eyes looked gray and unfocused. "And the family already thinks I'm useless. This'll just cement that opinion in their minds." That got about half a laugh out of Braeburn. "Well, now, could be I know something about cementing that particular kind of opinion." Her gaze sharpened on him, but it was a wary sorta sharpness, not the grumpy sort he always got from his sister. "'Cause I ain't even s'pposed to be out tonight," Braeburn went on. "My sister Red thought the storm'd be too dangerous." His conscience got a mite prickly, and he blew out a breath. "She loves me, I know, and don't wanna see me get hurt, but there's stallions younger'n me already taking regular shifts on the night patrol! It's just that Red's done made up her mind about me, and nothing I do'll ever change that!" Sunrise gave about half a laugh herself. "You want me to talk to her? I mean, I'd be buried under half a ton of mud if you hadn't come along." Her gaze sharpened again. "But seriously, Braeburn, you're doing what you have to do, getting out and taking your place in the world whether your sister likes it or not. That's the only thing ponies really respond to: step up, look them straight in the eye, and tell them how it's gonna be." Braeburn swallowed, glad he'd gotten her talking but not so sure about what she was saying. "I dunno, Sunrise. Every time I try that sorta thing, Red's got some answer that's so sensible, I come off looking nothing but foalish." "Then get smarter." She tapped a front hoof against her chest. "Look at me. My brother Roan doesn't much like me going out to represent the family all across Equestria—he says I'm too abrasive, too hard-charging." She rolled her eyes. "But I've taught myself so much about the strawberry business that I'm the only possible choice. Roan can either pull somepony away from the fieldwork that they know how to do, or he can send me to do what I know how to do. And I get results." Her mouth went sideways. "In the civilized parts of the world, I mean. Around here, I don't know what their problem is." "Well..." Braeburn shrugged. "Folks in Appleloosa like to get to know a pony before doing business. Take things slow and easy, be friendly, and everything'll work out okay. That's what I've found, anyway." "Really." Her eyes closed halfway, and her scent got a little sour. "'Cause what you were saying about your sister running your life made me think that being a doormat hasn't been working out all that well for you." It struck him like a slap, but it was Sunrise's face that turned red. "I'm sorry," she said, dropping her gaze. "I don't mean to be a grouch all the time, but, well, I kind of am a grouch all the time." She glanced back up at him. "You seem like a really nice guy, Braeburn, but in my experience, 'nice' just gets you trampled in life's stampede. You deserve something better than that." A smile pulled at her lips, the first time he'd seen her do that. "And I'm not just saying that because, y'know, you saved my life." He couldn't help giving a whole laugh, couldn't help leaning toward her and saying, "Y'know, that there smile's just like your name: gentle and bright and definitely worth getting up early to see. Seems to me you oughtta let it out more often." He raised his hooves before she could start scowling. "Not that I'm qualified to tell anypony how to handle her business, and not that I'm so put-together that I can start giving out advice. But just between you and me out here in the middle of nowhere." She didn't start scowling, oddly enough—Red always scowled at him when he tried to give her advice. Her smile did go a mite sideways, though. "Well, just between you and me out here in the middle of nowhere, I'll admit that it is nice to slow down and talk to somepony for a change." Her eyes shifted from side to side, and she leaned toward him, her cute little voice dropping. "Especially somepony I'm not trying to sell something to. Just keep it under your hat." She tapped her snout and winked. "Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation, after all." That needed another full laugh, and Braeburn happily gave it one. "Me, too!" 'Cept that didn't make a lick of sense: he had to stop, take a breath, and try to form what he was feeling into actual words. "I mean, it's just a pure pleasure having a pretty mare talk and listen to me for once instead've giggling and batting her eyelashes the whole time, then showing up at the ranch house asking Red for permission to court me." Sunrise's eyes went wide again. "That really happens?" Almost by reflex, Braeburn started to strike a pose—chest out, eyes half closed, head cocked to show his neck to full advantage—but he stopped himself and gave a sheepish smile. "When I ain't covered in mud and so generally bedraggled, I'm told I'm quite the looker." "Huh," she said. Her eyes started moving, looking him up and down like she was only just now seeing him, and for the first time in his life, Braeburn tried to shrink away, glad he had that big, shapeless blanket covering him from mane to tail. Her grin came back, but it was her sharp one, not the sorta moony one he usually got after a mare gave him the once over. "Well, there's no accounting for taste, I guess." "What?" Laughing, he smacked the straw mat under him. "Now with anypony else, I'd think maybe I'd been insulted. But from you, well, that's likely the closest you've ever come to giving a fella a compliment, ain't it?" "Pretty much." She was laughing, too: not giggling, he was glad to hear, but some real, honest, friendly laughter. What they talked about after that, Braeburn could never quite remember: stories about growing up; about things they'd seen, him just here around Appleloosa but her from her travels all over Equestria; just about life in general. He stayed in easy reach of the wood pile, and in that warm, dim room, the storm pounding away outside, he had the best night of his life just lying there and talking to a pony like nopony he'd ever met. He fell asleep at some point—whether before her or after her, again, he couldn't remember—and when he woke up, sunlight streaming in through the cabin's one window, his blanket kicked off and wadded up against his belly, he rolled over to see if she was awake— And she was gone.
3: ThornsStaring out the train window, Sunrise didn't see the desert changing to meadows, didn't see buttes give way to hills, cacti to trees, sand to grass. All she could see was the apple, the big, round, red apple on Braeburn's flank when she'd come slowly, gently, smilingly awake after the best night's sleep she'd had in—months? Years? Ever, maybe? Still muddy but warm and dry, she'd opened her eyes, had turned to grin across the room at the stallion she'd gotten to know better in those couple hours the night before than any other pony outside her immediate family— And the apple had practically popped off his hide at her, had smacked her in the head with a sting she could still feel all these hours later. She had only two real memories of the moments after that: standing with her hindquarters pressed against the shack's rough wooden door, her gaze snapping back and forth between the unmistakable apple of that cutie mark and the quietly snoring face of the sweet and soft-spoken guy who'd saved her life; and running, the morning sky so perfect and blue and clear overhead that she wanted to shriek at it, wanted to scream that it was a liar and a cheater and a betrayer. Sprinting, she'd reached the Appleloosa city limits sign after about ten minutes, her mind all the while refusing to think about why her face felt wet even though nothing remained of the rain except the sudden rash of tiny yellow and purple wildflowers that had apparently sprung up overnight to cover the scrub brush and give the air a sweet, tangy scent. She'd stormed into the hotel, reared back, slammed her hooves and about half a pound of mud onto the front desk, fixed her glare on the earth pony gaping at her there, and had informed him that she'd lost her key but would like to retrieve her luggage so she could check out as quickly as possible. If he'd been any less accommodating, Sunrise would've had a target for the heat simmering just behind her face, would've been able to focus on him and let loose the foulest stream of obscenities this backward burg had likely ever experienced. But he'd grabbed a skeleton key from the desk, had scrambled upstairs and returned almost immediately with her bag in his teeth. She'd scooped some random amount of coins out, had rushed to the train station like her tail was on fire, slapped down another bunch of coins, and had spent the last she-didn't-know-how-many hours not seeing the scenery. Just the apple. Nothing but the apple. "Ponyville!" a deep voice called out, and Sunrise snapped back to the present, the conductor making his way down the center aisle of the car. "Ponyville's the next station stop!" Which was when she realized she hadn't washed up yet, her feathers all askew, and her mane a mess. Staring at her reflection in the carriage window, she could even see the tracks in the dirt on her face from her tears. No! Strawberry Sunrise didn't cry! She made other ponies cry! Like when she accused kind, gentle, friendly, helpful ponies who'd just saved her life of wanting to molest her. Or when she called those same ponies doormats and implied that she found them ugly. Except he'd laughed, hadn't he? Had sliced right through her defenses, had pushed her pettiness aside, had treated her like she wasn't an obnoxious wretch, had— Had told her she had a nice smile. Even after everything she'd said to him... The train was passing through town now, was slowing, taking the curve just before the station, and Sunrise suddenly wanted to be anywhere other than here. Well, not anywhere, of course: she was absolutely never going near Appleloosa again, for instance. But apples and Ponyville had a very strong association, too, one that had always made her grind her teeth when she passed through the market square on her way to her family's strawberry fields on the other side of town from Sweet Apple Acres. Before, seeing members of the Apple family parading around with various princesses, getting honors from the mayor, their produce stand outselling all others according to the figures released by the Chamber of Commerce, all that would just make Sunrise vow silently to spread the word about strawberries even more fervently. But now? Pulling into the station, the train lurched to a stop, the early afternoon sunlight washing across her and reflecting her damp, wavering eyes back from the window. She growled, wiped a fetlock at them, pushed herself from her seat, and grabbed her bag. Out on the platform, she felt like everypony was staring at her, but when she glared around with her lips pulled back to make it easier in case she needed to start shouting, she didn't meet any other pairs of eyes. Because nopony cares about you, an awful little whisper hissed in the deepest, darkest part of her head. And why should they? She wanted to growl some more, but instead she stomped off the platform, through the station, and out onto the street. Was it her fault the world was unfair in every single way? "Sunrise!" an all-too-familiar voice rang out behind her, and Sunrise froze, started thinking up a whole new set of adjectives to use for the world. Because of course the first pony she ran into after this disaster had to be— "Roan," she said through her teeth. Turning, she clenched her teeth even tighter to see her older brother trotting toward her with their cousin Bramble beside him. His smile fell, his eyes narrowing, and Sunrise's knees threatened to buckle. Not that she was going to let anything like that happen, but she couldn't help wincing at the thought of how horrible she must look, mud dry and itchy all up and down her hide. "What happened to you?" Roan asked. So many words crowded into the back of her throat, she almost choked. But she swallowed them, took a breath, and forced herself only to say, "Nothing worth mentioning." Bramble was openly staring, her scent sour and salty at the same time. "We were just talking about the surprisingly good deals you got in Dodge Junction." A smirk tugged at Bramble's lips. "I'm guessing things didn't go so well in Appleloosa." Any other time, Sunrise would've happily unleashed her tongue. Cousin Bramble had always been every bit as prickly as her namesake, and growing up together, Sunrise had gotten to enjoy sparring verbally with her. Well, not enjoy it. She didn't really like her cousin all that much, and she was sure the feeling was mutual— Because, that nasty little voice in the back of her head murmured, you feel the same way about everypony as everypony feels about you, right? As filled with joy as a trip to the dentist... It took several more swallows before Sunrise could get out, "I'll have a complete report on your desk by lunchtime tomorrow, Roan. But right now, if you'll excuse me, I need a long bath and an even longer nap." Not waiting for a response, she turned away and began her slog home, half hoping and half afraid that he would call out after her. He didn't, and she made it home without anypony else calling to her, either. She spent about an hour in the tub, draining and refilling the thing four times with the hottest water she could stand, only splashing out when she started feeling like she'd boiled away the last of the mud. Wrapped in her big red robe, she chewed at a spinach, arugula, and strawberry salad while doing everything she could to think about nothing at all, then she crawled into bed. It took a while of very specifically telling herself how much more comfortable she was here than in, say, a drafty wooden hut with a straw mat, but she did finally fall asleep. She'd never been one for recalling her dreams, and the first thing she did when blinking awake the next morning just after dawn was to thank Princess Luna that the night had passed just as uneventfully as usual. It was bad enough she could remember every minute of what had actually happened in Appleloosa without it smacking her in the head while she was asleep, too... Her report took five drafts, the first four crumpled up and spat toward the trash basket beside her desk when they started wandering into personal areas she knew Roan wouldn't care about. Half a sentence was all she wanted, just a quick recommendation that the Strawberry Family send a donation to the Appleloosa Night Patrol to thank them for their work, for their professionalism, for their preparedness, their attention to detail, their devotion to their duties, their kind and gentle natures— And into the trash it would go. She did finally get it done, tucked it into her second-best saddlebags, and headed across town to the family house nestled in a little crook of the Whitetail Woods overlooking the strawberry fields the family had been working since coming here not long after Ponyville's founding. The sight and scent of the old homestead soothed her as always: the green spiky leaves, the red ripening fruit, the subtle sweetness drifting on the breeze. Of course, Cousin Bramble lounging on the front porch swing like she owned the place dampened some of that, and her sharp little grin tightened Sunrise's stomach in a way it never had before. "Morning, Cousin!" Bramble stretched herself off the swing and tossed her strawberry blonde mane. "You're looking a little less scruffy at least." "Not in the mood, Bramble." Usually, a session trading barely veiled insults with the other members of her family left Sunrise keyed up and invigorated, but right now, the only thing she wanted to do less than jab at Bramble was head back to Appleloosa. "Really?" Somehow, Bramble's grin got even sharper. "Is the Strawberry Family's number-one salesmare slipping in her onrushing old age? Could it that younger, prettier, and more hard-working ponies might finally have a chance to slip in and take her crown?" A reply that featured several different terms for excrement popped into Sunrise's head, but for some reason, it just made her vaguely embarrassed. "Do your best, Cousin," she said instead, pushing through the front door into the mud room. Like always, Roan looked through her whole report while she stood there, and like always, he didn't offer her a sandwich or a glass of water or even a seat. For once, though, his casual disregard didn't set her hackles rising or her teeth gritting. Before, she'd taken his behavior as a goad toward a goal, his way of giving her something to aim for and aspire to: Some day, she used to imagine him saying by his actions, you might be important enough to treat other ponies like dirt, too! But on that Tuesday afternoon, blinking at his impassive face on the other side of his polished oak desk as he flipped through the pages of her report, all she felt was tired. His bushy green eyebrows went up several times during the reading, and at the end, Sunrise wasn't surprised in the least when the question he asked was, "You lost your sample case?" "Yes, Roan." She wanted to shout at him till she'd drilled a few more ear holes into his thick and bony skull, but the tangled memory of her plunge into that storm-swollen creek kept dripping cold and shivery at the edges of her mind and dowsing her usual burning cloud of anger before it could even start to spark. With a sigh, she just said, "I thought replacing a sample case might be easier than a replacing a spine or a rib cage." He shrugged. "Well, we all have to set our own priorities, I suppose." His beige face twitched into something like a smile, but Sunrise couldn't detect a single bit of actual humor anywhere near it. "And the deals you managed to land in Dodge Junction will cover this whole Appleloosa fiasco well enough; we might even have a few bits we can contribute to this night patrol if you think it necessary." Again, it took some effort to keep her voice down. "They did save my life." All that got was another shrug before he folded the report closed and crossed his front hooves over it. "I'll approve issuing you a new sample case, but try not to make a habit of this sort of thing." With a crisp nod, he pulled open a desk drawer and slid the papers into it. "Now, you can still catch the 2:36 train to Vanhoover if you hurry." "What?" At that, her inner fire flared up pretty substantially. "I almost died out there, Roan! And, yes, I know I don't mean anything to you as a family member or a pony or anything like that, but maybe you could pretend for just one scat-sucking minute that you care about me as a semi-valued employee?" Sunrise refused to let her words shake even though most of her body seemed to be. "Or even pretend that I'm more valuable than a sample case?" His ears flicked. "What do you want, Sunrise? A medal for doing your job?" Her throat threatened to squeeze closed, but again, she wasn't about to let that happen. "What I want, Roan, is a brother! A real, actual, genuine, cares-about-me brother!" "I see." His face got even stonier. "And are you planning to start behaving like a real, actual, genuine, cares-about-anything-other-than-herself sister?" Shock froze Sunrise for a moment, but just for a moment. "I care about plenty!" she shouted. "Strawberries, for instance!" "Maybe the fruit." Roan waved a hoof. "But what about the ponies in the pictures I've got here? Do you even know their names?" Staring around her, Sunrise noticed for the first time all the framed photos standing among the books that lined the walls. Aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, sure, but... "Names?" she repeated, the quiver finally penetrating her voice. "I...I...I—" Letting her head droop, she pulled in a breath, and even though she couldn't remember the last time she'd said it, she pushed out, "Please, Roan. I need a couple days off." He made a little humming noise. "And I need somepony to go to Vanhoover." "Bramble." Sunrise forced her head up and tried to look at him without glaring. "She's a hard worker, she's hungry to prove herself, and—" The words stuck in her throat as stickery as an artichoke. "And she's probably better with other ponies than I am." She couldn't stop a sideways grin. "I mean, she can't be any worse, right?" Roan cocked his head, his smile a lot closer to a real smile. "Looks like we should've sent you into life-threatening peril years ago." He tapped his desk calendar. "How 'bout you come back next Monday? Or, y'know, any time before that to see if we can have another conversation without trying to bite each other's heads off." "I'd like that," she said, and she was more than a little amazed to find that she meant it. Unsure what was supposed to happen next—nearly every talk she'd had with her brother over the past decade or more had ended with her shouldering her way out of his presence while loudly launching snide remarks back to drown out the snide remarks he was aiming at her—she finally shrugged, said, "Thanks, Roan," and left. Bramble was still sitting on the front porch, her smile still absolutely phony. "Off into the wild blue yonder, then, Cousin?" she asked. Sunrise bristled automatically—Bramble regularly dug at her for being a pegasus—but the oddly contented warmth that was wafting around inside her somehow wouldn't ignite into her usual burning unhappiness. So she just gestured over her shoulder and said, "Roan wants to see you. Have a nice trip." Getting Bramble to look sour by being nice to her made Sunrise smile; she cantered down the porch steps and headed— Home. Alone. Same as always. Why had her life never bothered her before this? And why was it bothering her now? That the answer to both these questions had the word 'apple' in it almost convinced her to do some stomping along Ponyville's quiet streets, and while the idea of closing herself up inside her empty little house seemed unappealing, well, she didn't have any other ideas. None that were even remotely realistic, at any rate. She stopped off at Timothy Hay's cafe, bought a sandwich, and sat outside in the afternoon sunlight to eat it and watch the town go about its business. That killed maybe forty-five minutes, but after that... Maybe she could see if Rarity had picked up any juicy gossip while Sunrise had been away? Except Rarity would likely ask what Sunrise had been up to, and that wasn't a subject Sunrise had any interest in addressing. So home it was. The rest of the afternoon and evening, Sunrise lolled on her sofa and tried to finish a book she'd found on the train a few months ago, an action-adventure-romance thing that had been one of last year's best sellers. Unfortunately, though, every time the hero spoke, Sunrise heard a soft, countrified twang speaking the lines, and when she finally turned in after a supper of strawberries, oats, and kale, she decided that taking a week off was the worst idea she'd ever had in her whole entire life. Tomorrow morning, she'd head back to the fields and ask Roan if he had anything else that needed doing. Waking the next morning, she once again breathed her thanks to Princess Luna for sparing her from any dreams, ate a quick breakfast, combed her mane, and washed her face. It was a new day, and she was determined not to let the past hold her back any longer. Nodding to herself in the mirror, she slung her saddlebags over her back, took a step toward the front door— And somepony knocked on it. "Braeburn..." Red blew out wunna her extra large sighs. "If'n you'd wanted me to think you was home last night, you shoulda stuffed pillows or something under the blankets on your bed to make it look like you was in it." Standing in front of her desk, Braeburn flashed his best smile. "Could ya maybe pretend I did that, then?" She looked at him over the top of her half glasses. "This ain't a game, Little Brother. You go gallivanting out in a storm like that, you're likely to get yerself hurt. I told you that and trusted you'd do the right thing. And you didn't." Suddenly, holding that smile in place turned into the hardest thing he'd done in ages; he struggled a second, then let it drop. "I'm not a foal anymore, Red." "Then stop acting like one." She turned her attention back to the paperwork. "I ain't much interested in being a parent, truth to tell, but you keep this sorta thing up, I'll ground you like Pappy used to." "Ground me? But I—" Almost, Braeburn blurted out everything that'd happened during the storm last night, but for once in his life, he squeezed his fool mouth shut. Taking a breath and blowing it out, he said, "Look, Red, maybe...maybe I needta get away for a piece, do some thinking and some plain ol' apple bucking." It took some effort, but he managed to keep any bit of excitement off his face. "Maybe I could go visit Cousin Applejack. It'd get me out from underhoof here, and her and Granny Smith'd have plenty to keep me busy." Red looked back up again. "'Scuse me? You're volunteering to work?" His face went hot. "That ain't fair, Red. I don't shirk, and you know it." She at least had the decency to twitch her ears back. "Well, we got work here, too, if'n you're so eager." He'd already thought of an answer to that. "Work you won't let me do." He shook his head quickly. "Look, I don't wanna argue with you, Sis, but I know that's exactly what we're gonna be doing if'n I don't clear my head a little. We both trust Cousin Applejack: I know she won't baby me, and you know she won't let me do anything dangerous." Putting a pleading note into his voice was easy enough. "It'll just be a couple of days, a week at most. Then I'll be back, and we'll be okay." That she still hadn't come right out and said 'no' got a little thrilling chill to rustle his mane, but it was a long stretch of just the big clock on the mantelpiece ticking before she said, "I'd miss you." A lump wanted to clog his throat, but he snorted it away. "You mean you'd miss lording it over all them mares who come calling on you with pies and cakes and hay bales when they wanna pay court to me." Her smile had a greedy edge. "I don't know what you could possibly be referring to." She tapped a hoof on the desk. "But it's a right fine idea, getting you up to Ponyville and under the eye of them wealthy city mares. They even got a princess now, don't they?" She winked. "Can't imagine you'd mind that too awfully." And for all that she was starting to think the way he'd hoped she would, Braeburn still couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Red..." "Just funning with you, Brother." Stretching, she stood from the desk. "Reckon I'll stroll on down to the telegraph office and send AJ a note asking if she wouldn't mind putting you up for a spell." Braeburn somehow kept himself from hopping in place, but he did give Red a grin. "And I reckon I'll get a bag packed." He trotted across the room, held the door open for her, then started down the hallway; she was heading the opposite direction toward the front door, so he was very careful not to do any dance steps till he'd rounded the corner and got outta sight. Because when he'd woke that morning to find Sunrise gone, he'd jumped right up and practically stampeded himself into town. He'd remembered her saying that the desk clerk at her hotel had warned about the storm, so he'd run from the Grand Appleloosan to the Palmer House to the Century Inn before Hash Browns at the front desk of the Best Western had finally known who he was talking about. Coal Porter at the train station had told him she'd bought a ticket to Ponyville, and Braeburn had let out a whoop to hear it. If she was from Ponyville, then Cousin Applejack'd know where to find her. He just had to get himself to Ponyville. Which he was just about to do. Strawberry Sunrise wasn't like any other mare he'd ever met—funny and grouchy and still cute as a bug's ear—and even though she'd run off, he was one hundred percent sure that a straight-talker like her woulda told him she didn't wanna see him again if she didn't wanna see him again. And since she hadn't told him anything like that... Packing his bag took all of twenty seconds, and he stretched himself over the sofa in his sitting room to wait for Red to get back. And sure, he squirmed a little, thinking about the way he was lying to Red about all this. 'Cept he wasn't lying to her, not really. Not telling the whole unvarnished truth wasn't the same as lying—everypony knew that. And the way Red would wanna plant herself smack dab in the middle of Braeburn getting to know Sunrise better, well, he just plain didn't wanna think about how the two of them might get to butting heads. Maybe even literally if he knew his sister at all... The minutes crept past, and Braeburn got to squirming even more. Because hadn't Sunrise said she didn't have any real friends? Which meant that if Cousin Applejack did know her—and she had to if Sunrise lived in Ponyville—then the two didn't like each other. He'd hafta keep back a bit of the truth from AJ, too, looked like. He snorted. Why did ev'rything hafta be so complicated? By the time the minutes had multiplied out to an hour, Braeburn had gotten up three or four times to repack his bag. He wasn't trying to impress Sunrise, after all, so he didn't need his best hat and the vest that hugged his sides and made his barrel look so neat and trim. He was just...just... Yeah, okay, so maybe he was trying to impress her a mite. His second-best hat'd be fine, but back into the bag went the vest. Lunchtime came straggling in, and Braeburn rushed to the kitchen to slather himself together a quick sandwich before getting back to his room so he'd be there when Red told him he could go. And when she hadn't shown up a half hour after that, he found his eyes getting heavy the way they always did this time of day. He swore he'd only set his chin on his hooves for a second, but then he was starting awake to the clock softly chiming five. Red blinked at him when he rushed into her office. "I just sent the telegram, Bray. We still gotta wait for her to answer, y'know?" That night positively crawled, and while he didn't usually remember his dreams and didn't that night either, he did wake up with a powerful hankering for strawberries. Not that they had any: he'd only tasted 'em at the county fair once or twice, now that he thought about it... Extra cinnamon and sugar on his apple pancakes weren't the same, but Braeburn gave it a try, sitting with the resta the family in the chow hall where he could see the front walk in case Dashin' Dot from the telegraph office might stop by with AJ's reply. Instead, though, Little Strongheart came running up, pounding on the door, waving her hooves and looking mighty alarmed about something when Cousin Marigold answered. Marigold brought Strongheart into the chow hall, and the little buffalo told ev'rypony that wunna of the tribe's calves had gone missing in the storm two nights ago. The buffalo hadn't been able to find him, so they were hoping— Red didn't even give Strongheart time to finish before she was jumping to her hooves and calling out the names of squad leaders for search patrols. She didn't call his name, of course, but Braeburn caught his breath when she looked at him and said, "You're on my team, Brother." She stomped a hoof. "So let's move out!" And even though Braeburn wasn't looking anywhere near where the little fella turned up—the flood had washed him all the way down to the Pulgas's place south of town, and they'd been so busy getting the water distributed to their fields, they hadn't had time to send word out asking what family in the tribe might be missing a calf—it was still great to be out doing what he could to help. Trotting home beside Red with the sun finally setting, he felt like putting a strut in his step, but he was a mite too tuckered out for that. They came over the hill to see the lights of the ranch house bright at the end of the walk, and Red nudged her shoulder into his. "See? There's work you can do here." He blinked at her smile. "Y'mean you'll put me on the regular night patrol list?" Her smile faded, and that was all it took for ev'ry drop of warmth to drain outta his chest. He picked up his pace, ignored her when she called his name, and reached the front door before she did, his teeth clenched. A telegraph envelope was sticking out from the mail slot. Grabbing it, tearing it open, and reading Applejack's reply that he was welcome anytime was all it took: he just plain galloped to his room. His saddlebag lay draped over the sofa right where he'd left it; he slung it on and got back to the front door just as Red was clomping in. "Reckon I'll see you 'round," he said, not slowing up even when she called his name again. At the station, the next train to Ponyville wasn't leaving for another four hours. One to Baltimare was steaming at the platform right then, though, so he counted bits outta his bag for a ticket. He doubted Red would chase him here and try to talk him outta going, but he didn't wanna take that chance any more'n he wanted to sit around the depot all night. Huddled against the carriage window, he looked out at the darkness, his stomach grumbling to remind him he'd been on search and rescue patrol all day and was missing supper right now. But his throat was way too tight for him to think about forcing food down it. Because Sunrise had been right. Letting Red run his life wasn't any sorta answer to anything. When the train pulled in to Baltimare just after midnight, he managed to get halfway through a hayburger while waiting for the red-eye to Ponyville to start boarding, and he even slept some once he'd got his seat. Again, he didn't dream, but he woke up before dawn tasting strawberries. Grinning, he took himself down to the dining car and ordered pancakes smothered in 'em, sweet and tart—just like her—and so different from the apples he was used to. He was the first passenger off when the train pulled into Ponyville not long after sunup, and the questions he asked led him pretty quickly to a trim little cottage, bushes heavy with strawberries out front. Pausing for half a second—his good vest was still folded up in his bag, after all—he decided he didn't wanna wait, stepped up, and knocked on her door. In less time than it took for him to draw a breath, the door opened, and Strawberry Sunrise was blinking up at him, her mane and coat nicely currycombed, a pair of saddlebags across her back. This part, he'd thought about over the past couple days. Tipping his hat back a mite, he spread a long, slow smile across his face and said, "Morning, Sunrise." She did some more staring. "Braeburn? Where—? How—? What—? What're you doing here?" Shrugging with a nonchalance he didn't remotely feel, he waved a hoof. "I didn't getta chance to say good-bye." Her eyes widened ever further. "But you can't—! You can't just—! Just—!" Leaning forward, she was suddenly wrapping her hooves around his neck and hauling him inside. "Are you crazy? What if somepony sees you?" The touch of her hooves vanished and the door slammed behind him before he could get his balance back, but when he did manage to turn, she was hyperventilating, standing squeezed right up against the door, a drop or two of sweat trickling down the side of her face and her gaze riveted to him. Not sure if this was bad or good, he kept his tone light. "Now I know it ain't proper for a gentlestallion to call upon a young unaccompanied mare like this, but, well, I couldn't rightly send you a letter telling you I was coming since I didn't know your address. But the stationmaster at the depot asked wunna them taxicab haulers, and he asked another, and they finally told me how I could track you down." None of this seemed to soothe her in the slightest. "You asked taxicab ponies? Plural? How to get to my house? You?" "Ummm..." This was definitely not heading in the direction he'd hoped it might. "Did I do something wrong, Sunrise? D'you—" He had to swallow. "D'you want me to go?" "No!" She jumped away from the door, then pushed herself back up against it again. "I just...I wasn't expecting you!" He nodded, and it finally clicked in his head that she was wearing saddlebags. Biting back a curse, he couldn't help slumping a little. "I shoulda figured out a way to get word to you, the way it looks like you're heading out and all." With an effort, he made himself smile. "Anyplace I can walk you to? "No!" she shouted again, then she slapped a hoof over her face. "I mean, no, I'm not heading anywhere." The breath she took in was deep and deliberate, and for the first time that morning, she didn't have white around her eyes when she looked at him. "I took the week off, actually, after everything that happened Monday. You...you couldn't've come at a better time. Except—" A salty sourness came into her scent, and this time it was her doing the slumping. "I don't really know what we could do..." Grinning, Braeburn resolutely held his tongue against the lascivious thoughts popping into his head, and Sunrise started blushing, the whole room filling with the sweet aroma of strawberries. A damsel in distress brought all his chivalry to the surface, though, and he asked, "How 'bout breakfast? You pick a place, and I'll treat." "You don't have to do that," she mumbled, looking at the carpet and shifting from hoof to hoof. "But I can if'n I want to." He reached out, touched her chin, smiled into her startled eyes when her head snapped up. "Can't I?" Her expression stayed panicked for longer than he cared for, but finally she gave the tiniest possible nod, pulled the door open, and stepped outside as draggy as a pony on her way to the dentist. She was still wearing her saddlebags, so Braeburn kept his on, too, followed her out, then fell in beside her. "So!" he said, trying to be jaunty enough for the both of them. "You got a place picked out?" "Place?" Her ears buckled, and she somehow got even more panicked. "Place for what?" His jauntiness slipped a mite. "Uhh, breakfast?" "Oh! Right!" Her lips twitched into something that could've been a smile. "We, uhh, we could go to Timothy Hay's, I guess. It's pretty good—I mean, it's the only place I ever go, but I assume it's good compared to other places. Except since, y'know, I haven't been to any other places, I don't really know. I don't know where else we could go, though, or why...why I'm still talking..." She closed her eyes and shook her head quickly. "I'm sorry. I...I'm not usually like this..." Braeburn cocked his head. "Cute and charming, y'mean?" He thought it was a pretty cute and charming line himself, so Sunrise's shout of "Exactly!" made him blink. "I told you!" she went on. "I'm a grouch and a—!" She blushed some more, her eyes shifting from side to side. "Sorry," she said again. She looked so down in the mouth, Braeburn decided to keep up the cute and charming stuff. "Well, now, Sunrise, all I've got to say is that I've met grouches before. And based on the time I've spent with you, I wouldn't call you one of 'em." Instead of cheering her up, though, this little speech just made her heave a heavier sigh. "Yeah, I know. And that's the problem." Not sure what to do next, Braeburn started forming up a comment about the weather, but then she was nodding forward and saying, "We're here," in a voice as drab and dusty as an unwatered orchard. It seemed a nice enough place full of happily chatting ponies, but the way Sunrise's gaze kept flitting around, Braeburn started thinking trouble might be brewing. A few of the ponies did sorta look sideways at the two of them as the waiter showed them to a table on the patio, and for all that he wanted to think they were admiring either him or Sunrise, their expressions more ran the gamut from surprised to annoyed. He asked for a bowl of porridge with strawberries on it, beaming at her while he did so. Her smile went way too wide, her eyes still shifting while she said, "Just water for me, thanks." Which was about as far as cute and charming was gonna get him, he figured. "OK," he said quietly, leaning toward her, "maybe you've noticed how me and subtle don't have much more'n a nodding acquaintance? So if I've done something stupid, Sunrise, you gotta say so or it's just gonna fly right on past me." "No!" she said not quite as loudly as she'd shouted it before. She reached across the table and took his hooves between hers. "It's not you, Braeburn. It's—" "What in tarnation?" an all-too-familiar contralto asked, and glancing over, he just about winced to see Applejack standing there wide-eyed, a cart of apples hitched up behind her. "Cousin Braeburn? Holding hooves with Strawberry Sunrise?" Sunrise jerked away like he'd stung her, and when he wheeled his head back around to see if she was okay, she was staring just as wide-eyed back at AJ. "Cousin?" she more choked than said. "You're darn tootin'!" AJ shrugged outta her harness and stormed up to the edge of the restaurant's patio. "When Cousin Red said you wanted to come up for a visit, I wouldn'ta said 'sure' if'n I'd known it meant you was gonna be canoodling with the likes of her!" Braeburn recognized the way Sunrise's lips tightened from the times he'd seen Red about to start yelling. But then the anger on her face just plain cracked, her eyes pulling closed, her breath unsteady when she sucked it in. "That's right," she said quietly. "The likes of me." She sprang from the table, her eyes flashing open, and spun to face the resta the folks eating breakfast. "Hooves up, all of you I've insulted or complained to or shouted at! Come on, now! Don't be shy!" Half a dozen hooves shot into the air right away, their owners giving nasty little smiles. And as Braeburn stared, another dozen or so ponies sorta swallowed and slowly lifted their hooves, too. "So." Sunrise turned back, his lower lip quivering and her eyes closed again. "That's why." His throat went all jagged inside him. "Sunrise?" he managed to force out. She shook her head as fast as if she'd felt bees in her mane, her voice rougher'n sandpaper. "Go home, Braeburn. Just...go home." She pushed away from the table and bounded away up the street.
4: BlossomsSprawled on the sofa with her mother's strawberry-embroidered comforter covering her face, Sunrise knew for an incontrovertible fact that she was an idiot. Of course, that knowledge wasn't useful in any way, shape, or form. But recognizing it, she felt, was marginally better than not recognizing it... She'd had a vague hope after she'd barreled through the front door, slammed it shut behind herself, and tumbled onto the sofa that she might hear a light knocking and Braeburn calling gently through the mail slot, It's okay! I don't care that you're a nasty, vindictive, sanctimonious jerk— But even in her fantasy, she would shout, "Well, you should care! And here's why!" She would then loudly and carefully list all her various faults and would conclude by stating the plain and simple fact that Braeburn really shouldn't want anything to do with her. Five times she restarted and ran through this scenario, and each time, her imaginary self ended up driving him away just as thoroughly as her real self had. Because by then it had become painfully obvious that he wasn't going to be knocking on her door, that he'd evidently wised up, taken the advice she'd given him at the restaurant, and had gotten back on the train to Appleloosa just the way she'd wanted him to. It was for the best. And she was a complete and total idiot. She was just considering maybe piling the actual sofa cushions on top of herself as well as the blanket when somepony did start knocking at the door. It was more a pounding than a knocking, actually, and as she sat up, the quilt still draping down over her head and shoulders, a hard-toned mare's voice shouted, "Strawberry Sunrise! You open this door right this gol-durned minute, or I swear to my Granny Smith, there won't be nothing left of it but kindling!" "Applejack!" another mare exclaimed, her voice more familiar, a bit higher, and nowhere near as murderous. "We agreed that I would do the talking, did we not?" "We didn't do nothing of the sort! I only went looking for you 'cause I couldn't recollect where this low-down polecat of a pony lived!" "There's no need for name-calling! Strawberry's a bit of a, well, an acquired taste, one might say, but I certainly wouldn't call her a polecat!" That was Rarity, all right: Sunrise couldn't imagine any other pony in this town sticking up for her like that. "A snake in the grass, then!" The whole house rattled when Applejack smacked the door this time, and Sunrise dragged herself to her hooves, shook the comforter off, and plodded into the entryway. "A wasp and a hornet and a big ol' horsefly all rolled into one! One solid, total, and unadulterated—!" "Bitch?" Sunrise asked, pulling the door open and glaring at the two ponies. "Is that the word you're looking for, maybe?" "It ain't!" Applejack stomped a hoof. "It's a pure insult to every female dog I've ever known to use that word for the likes of you!" Nasty comebacks galloped unbridled through Sunrise's head, but she pushed them all away. "Fine! 'Polecat' it is, then! Now get off my front stoop!" She stepped back to slam the door, but Rarity practically leaped across the threshold. "Strawberry, wait! What in the wide, wide world of Equestria is this all about?" She shot a sour glance over her shoulder. "Applejack dragged me out of my workroom gibbering about you and her cousin, but that doesn't make any sense! No sense at all!" "Exactly!" Sunrise shouted at the same time as Applejack, but when Applejack stopped to blink, Sunrise forced herself to go on. "Braeburn deserves the best, most beautiful, sweetest, and gentlest mare the world has ever known, not some bitter, thoughtless, useless—" her throat constricted, but the words wouldn't stop "—mean, dried-up, awful..." And she only stopped then because she ran out of breath. Her gaze had gotten blurry; gritting her teeth, she wiped her eyes, blinked, and found that she was looking at the entryway carpet. Taking a shaky breath, she raised her head— And the other two were staring at her like she'd sprouted a horn. "Land sakes," Applejack said more quietly than Sunrise had ever heard the farmpony speak. "You got it bad, don'tcha?" Not trusting her voice, Sunrise just nodded. Rarity's eyes shimmered. "And Braeburn came all the way from Appleloosa just to surprise you, didn't he?" Again, Sunrise could only nod. Applejack reared back, grabbed her hat, and slammed it to the ground. "Consarn it!" She aimed a front hoof at Sunrise like it was a dagger. "You answer me true, then, Strawberry Sunrise! What's your intentions toward my cousin Braeburn?" "Intentions?" Sure enough, her voice cracked; Sunrise cleared her throat and tried to sort through the jumble in her head. "Well, he saved my life and completely messed it up at the same time. I mean, he pulls me out of this flashflood, we talk for a couple hours, and the next thing I know, I'm having a real conversation with my brother for the first time in maybe two decades! I'm taking time off work, and I never take time off work! It's just—" She pulled in another breath. "He's this great guy and I'd like to get to know him better and it looks like maybe he feels the same and he's just so gorgeous!" Her face went hot. "Uhh, I mean—" "'Sall right, sugar cube." Applejack's smile stretched a little tight over her muzzle, but it was still a smile. "If'n he weren't such a close relation, I'd likely be up paying court at Cousin Red's place, too." She turned to Rarity. "Reckon we can get Twilight to help?" "I should say so!" Rarity wiped the trickle of mascara from the corner of her eye. "It's everypony's duty to help steady the course of true love!" "Love?" A lot more than just Sunrise's face started heating up. "Look, I don't know if I'd go that far. I mean, I only met him two days ago, and—" "'Sall right," Applejack said again. "Whenever she gets wound up, you just gotta let her go." She grabbed her hat from the ground with her teeth and flipped it up to land perfectly between her ears. "But let's get on over to the castle and get this whole thing started." "Started?" Sunrise had to wince; was she a parrot suddenly, repeating everything everypony said? Shaking her head, she planted her hooves more firmly in the entryway carpet. "Okay, I'm going to need to know what's going on before I set hoof outside this house." "Love!" Rarity practically sang. "We shall call upon the very powers of the cosmos itself to bring your two hearts together!" Sunrise blinked at her, then turned to Applejack. Applejack rolled her eyes. "Ain't another train to Appleloosa till four o'clock this afternoon. We wanna get there afore Braeburn, so we'll hafta have Twilight magic us over." As much as Sunrise wanted to repeat several of Applejack's words, she forced herself not to. "Still not getting it here," she said, refusing to let herself hope. Applejack sighed. "Twilight'll transport you and me down to Appleloosa, and we'll have the better part of a day to wrastle Cousin Red into letting you court Braeburn." She gave a sideways smile. "Good thing you're as ornery as you are, Strawberry, 'cause I reckon we're gonna need ev'ry ounce we can muster." Wings shooting out, Sunrise leaped into the air, dove through the door, and hovered over Applejack and Rarity. "Then what're we just standing around here for?" she shouted. Rarity let loose with an almost maniacal laugh, Applejack's "Yee-haw!" echoing from the houses up and down the street. They both wheeled and began galloping toward Princess Twilight's castle, and Sunrise swooped into place above them, her whole body lighter than it had ever been before. Staring out the window, Braeburn found himself wondering what it'd be like to just get out here, just hop off the end of the train, tumble down the embankment into the sand, and start walking under that big blue sky toward the desert's horizon, wavery in the afternoon heat. This particular stretch of land was empty as an unpacked crate, and he was feeling more'n a little that way himself. Go home, she'd said, and those two little words, hardly taking up half a breath between 'em, had just clawed right into his chest and tore out every living part he'd had tucked away up in there. Not that this was the first time he'd had a mare reject him, of course. Sure, he was the one who usually broke things off when it turned out she wanted a trophy instead of a coltfriend, but sometimes he'd just be getting to know whatever pony he was dating when Red'd call him into her office to tell him that the mare had decided things weren't working out. And he'd blink and nod and get back to his chores, and pretty quick, there'd be another mare fluttering her eyelashes at him in town or in Red's office, and the whole thing'd start again. There was always more mares, it seemed, all pretty much cute and smart and friendly and whatever— But none of 'em was her. And now, even she wasn't her. Braeburn shifted in his seat, pretty sure that last thought hadn't made a licka sense. He knew what he meant, though. Sunrise didn't want nothing to do with him—or rather, didn't want him to have nothing to do with her 'cause she didn't think he could really want to have anything to do with her. Which got his teeth clenching more'n a little. Why was it so many ponies keep telling him that what he wanted wasn't what he wanted? Sure, he weren't the sharpest plow in the field, but he weren't exactly dumb as a box of frogs neither! First Pappy, then his aunts and uncles, then Red and Sheriff Silverstar and pretty much ev'rypony in Appleloosa, they all reckoned they knew him better'n he did himself! Though if he was being honest, he had to admit they sometimes did. Too many times in the past when Red had given in and let him try one of his ideas, he'd turned out wrong and she'd turned out right. So it wasn't like they kept him on a short leash to be mean or anything. Blowing out a breath took all his anger with it, his shoulders loosening. He slumped against the window and watched the buttes appear to the east the way they did just before the tracks came into the depot. It wasn't like he had a bad life. He just needed to be more careful or less willful or better at understanding what things were truly doable and what things just plain weren't. The conductor came through the car announcing the station, and Braeburn gathered his saddlebag from under the seat. Managing expectations, Red called it when she had her little half glasses on. Mind his 'P's and 'Q's, and maybe she'd let him start going out with the night patrol again someday... The train rattled and shook and ground to a halt, Braeburn nodding to the other ponies on board and letting them get off first. He weren't in any hurry, after all. Stepping off the train last, he started for the end of the platform when a very familiar clearing of throat folded his ears. He snapped his head over to see his sister standing in front of a luggage cart while beside her— "Cousin Applejack?" He blinked, then joy bubbled over inside his chest. Because standing next to AJ— "Sunrise!" And he couldn't keep from galloping over, his hooves light and dancing underneath him. The looks on the three mares' faces made him check his rush a mite: Sunrise had pinked up cuter'n any pony had a right to be; AJ was glancing toward Red with as smug a grin as Braeburn had ever seen; and Red, though she was a head taller'n the other two, broader of chest and bigger all 'round, she suddenly looked like a filly who'd gotten herself lost at the county fair. "There you go," AJ more purred than said. "Might be you see what we mean 'bout how Braeburn feels now." Red's eyes narrowed, and just about all the softness vanished from her expression. "Braeburn?" she asked in the tone she always used when she was about to tell him in exact detail how and why he'd fouled things up. "You know this Strawberry Sunrise?" "I—" He swallowed, but Sunrise's warm, solid gaze fixed on him somehow made his breath more regular. "I pulled her outta the crick during the storm Monday, and we spent the night together." "You what?" Red's stomp shook the whole station. Braeburn winced. "Not like that! We was wrapped up in blankets with a pot-belly stove between us!" He glared at her, then turned to look at Sunrise some more. "She told me I needed to do what made me happy." This time, he let about half a glare sharpen his features. "But when I tried to tell her that being with her made me happy, she said I was too good for her and told me to go home." Puffing the glare away, he took another step toward Sunrise. "So what're you doing here? And how'd you get here afore me?" Her grin lit up the whole station. "Apparently, it pays to have friends," she said, and she nudged AJ in the ribs with an elbow. AJ snorted a laugh, but ev'rything about Sunrise got real serious real quick. "I made a mistake back in Ponyville, Braeburn." Her mouth went sideways, and she pointed a half-glare of her own in Red's direction. "It's not my place to be telling you what you ought to be doing with your life, and if you'd like to spend some of your time getting to know me—" She took a step toward him, and Braeburn caught his breath at the shimmer in her eyes. "I'd like to spend some time getting to know you." Off in his peripheral vision, he saw Red shifting from hoof to hoof, but he was only paying attention to the mare in front of him. "I—" Her voice wavered. "I don't know how this'll work exactly. I mean, this land out here is perfect strawberry country. I could probably convince my brother Roan to let me set up a field, try selling Appleloosa's farmers on the idea of strawberries by, y'know, getting to know them and letting them get to know me, take things slow and easy, be friendly, that sort of thing." She swallowed, her gaze flitting from side to side when he took another step toward her. "That's some advice I got from somepony once, at any rate." Feeling like his whole body was smiling, Braeburn took one last step, bent down, and touched his lips to hers. She made a little squeaking noise, raised her head, met his lips more firmly, and Braeburn kinda lost track of things for a while after that. Finally, though, he had to come up for air, but Sunrise took her own one more step forward, tucking her head against the side of his neck. "It's the 'be friendly' part that's got me a little worried," she murmured. He couldn't help chuckling at that. "You're a natural," he said. "Trust me." Looking past where AJ stood grinning, he fixed on where Red stood scowling. "And it just so happens my family's got some property that'd be perfect." "Bray," Red growled. "It's my land, too, Sis, and there's spots that're sitting fallow right now, ain't there?" He stroked a hoof along Sunrise's back, his heart pounding even harder when she shivered. "And if anypony can make it work, it's this pony right here." Sunrise shifted against his chest, and this time, he was the one shivering. "It'll be entirely risk free for you, Ms. Gravenstein," she said. "But if it works out, you'll be in for a share of the profits. I can have paperwork here tomorrow with all the details. Shall we say noon in your office?" The twitch at the corner of Red's eye told Braeburn she was annoyed, but the glint there said she was smelling bits. "Fine," she said after a long, long moment. "Tomorrow at noon." She turned and started down the platform. "Best you start calling me 'Red,' too, I reckon." AJ smacked the floor and gave out a hoot, and Braeburn looked down at the beautiful mare cuddled up against him. "Well, now, Strawberry Sunrise. Looks like you made yourself a sale." "Y'know?" She licked her lips. "Not really interested in that right now." She stretched her neck up, and he bent down to meet her halfway.
