Decadence, As Performed By Four Calling Birds
Movement I. A Bleeding Of Sweat & Soil
yet it wasn't so much that one should fear
that which encroaches upon our home,
but that such fears could only come from
home and
home alone
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it creaks
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g. r. A.
.
Beyond the darkness of the night and the blearing curtains of rain swayed a cluster of orange shimmers in the wind. They freely danced to the cacophonous thrums of the midnight storm, crackling in bewitching merriment even as the world around them remained deep in quiet slumber, save for the occasional applause of thunder overhead. To the untrained eye, one would deduce that there was some inexplicable purpose to this spectacle, that there must be something mystical responsible for the conjuration of this midnight revelry.
Applejack knew it was anything but.
A sigh rose from the confines of her throat as she watched the display intently from the window. The lights were coming from an apple tree that had been struck by lightning—one of the older ones, judging from the size of the fire and the direction it was coming from. Were it not for the rain already doing her bidding, she would've marched out there right now, yanked out the hose and quickly put an end to that nuisance of a party before it got out of control. Nevertheless, as grateful as she was for the weather, she still refused to remain content as an observer, throwing out a few grumbles here and there even as her stomach began to twist and turn from thinking about the debris she'll have to clear up in the morning.
"Is it really alright, just leaving it like this?"
Glancing over her shoulder, Applejack mustered a smile for a nervous Sugar Belle, who moments ago barged into her bedroom and woke her up to warn her about the fire, bless her heart. "The storm's makin' quick work of it," she assured. "Probably'll be out in an hour or two, I reckon."
Her sister-in-law sighed in relief. Or that's what it sounded like, at least. Even though it had been months since the day Sugar Belle moved in, Applejack wasn't exactly used to her company yet. Not that she was unwelcome or anything to that extent, of course, far from it. After all, it's beyond an Apple to spurn one of their own. If anything, Applejack appreciates how she would always offer to help out around the farm in any way she can, which really helped in lessening the family's workload overall.
Still, there was something strange about it. Seeing Sugar Belle canter between the ageing walls of the Apple homestead, listening to her dainty hooves as they made every gentle creak up the wooden stairs, hearing her merry humming swivelling out the kitchen alongside the aroma of freshly-baked muffins, all of it just felt strange.
But it wasn't wrong by any means. Far from it, if anypony asked. Yet it just wasn't right either. For some reason, it felt as though the family had broken some cardinal rule within these four walls by inviting Sugar Belle into the homestead and it had now become Applejack's obligation towards the family hearth to cast the offending presence out.
Of course, Applejack knew better than to think that—nay, she was better. Sugar Belle was family, through and through. There's no good reason for her to be stuck in that mindset, there really wasn't. Still, the thought does come back to her, time and time again. A spectre standing in the corner of the room, waiting.
"It has been raining a lot lately, hasn't it?"
Applejack coughed. "Yep, noticed it too. I'd ask Rainbow about it but she's out of town." Something about going on another awesome adventure or something, the farmpony recalled with a distant smile, somewhat comforted by the fact that the pegasus was doing enough adventuring for the rest of them. "A bit of rain's good though. Makes up for that dry spell a few months ago."
"I just hope Mac's doing okay." Sugar Belle bit her lip at the violent pummelling of raindrops against the windowpane, before shaking her head profusely. "I'm sorry, Jackie, I know you told me not to worry about it—"
"It's fine, sugarcube."
"I can't help it! I mean, what if he gets caught in a mudslide or something? What if—what if the carriage gets trapped in a ditch and pulls him down with it? What if he sprains his hoof? What if he twists it? What if—"
"Macintosh knows to lay low when a storm's comin' his way." Applejack chuckled for her sister-in-law. "I know, I know, his head can be in the clouds sometimes, but if there's one stallion I know who's almost always too careful for his own good, it's my brother. You know exactly what I'm talkin' about, don't cha?"
Sugar Belle responded with nothing more than a giggle, one that Applejack had always found soothing in spite of her misgivings. She never knew why that was the case. Big Mac once told her about how it sounded familiar to him, about how it felt like it came from somepony near and dear to his heart. Of course, Applejack immediately chided him for stating something so absurdly dense and painfully obvious, though as she had more chances to listen to it over time, she was beginning to understand what he meant. Not entirely, not enough for her to deduce where exactly they might've heard it from, but she was getting there, getting close. She just needed to hear it a little more.
"Oh, the fire's dying down."
At Sugar Belle's exclamation, Applejack glanced back out the window. "Seems like it," she managed right as she broke into a gaping yawn. "Think I'm gonna hit the hay. How about you?"
"I think I'll stay up a little longer. Make sure the fire's really on its way out, y'know?"
"Alright then. Just don't stay up too late. If anything else happens, you know where to find me."
Applejack doubted anything would actually happen. That's not to say that Sugar Belle's fears were unfounded—her sister-in-law had every reason to be worried, whether it was over the fire or about Big Mac getting into trouble. It's just that in the grander scheme of things, the endless problems of Sweet Apple Acres seemed minuscule compared to whatever chaos and turmoil being tossed up in some corner of the world somewhere. Perhaps her adventures over the years had disillusioned her to the scope of her personal troubles somewhat. With her growing nonchalance towards the farm's many affairs, she was certainly starting to think that was the case.
Still, insignificant as it all may be, Applejack would never trade away the farmstead and all the frustrations worming within its woodwork for any greater glory beyond its borders. In fact, her past adventures made her more appreciative of them. Sweet Apple Acres was, and always will be, home to her and her many mundane worries. Such was in line with the life of an Apple: simple as simple could be, as it has always been from the roots up to the branches of the family tree. Of course, there were some exceptions among the leaves—she was an especially noteworthy stand-out, what with being the Element of Honesty and all—but when it all comes down to it, an Apple will always look forward to a simple life. An honest life.
With one last yawn, Applejack returned to her room, giving her hooves a few long stretches before climbing into her bed. As she dug herself into her covers, she spied the distant flames waving to and fro at her from outside her window, her heavy eyes beholding the pleasant show before the mare slowly and surely sank back into sleep once more.
Beneath it all, the unmoving earth shifted.
.
.
"Wow," whistled the younger, aghast at the damage before her.
"Eeyup," reciprocated the elder, who had earlier done the very same.
The Apple Sisters stood before a field pockmarked with apple chunks and wooden splinters. In the middle of it all, the tree from last night, burnt entirely into a near-unrecognizable black. What had caught both of them off guard was the fact that the lightning had struck it right in the centre, splitting the tree cleanly in half and leaving behind what looked like a spiralling cornucopia of shattered bark and seething grey. At what point of the night did it happen, Applejack didn't know. When asked, Sugar Belle apparently didn't either.
"So wait, we're supposed to get all that out?" Apple Bloom asked with an exasperated sigh as she turned to her sister. "Couldn't it wait until Big Mac comes home?"
"Was plannin' to, until..." Applejack simply gestured at the mess. "And if the storm could do this? Means it can easily push his return trip back one or two days."
"I guess." Returning her gaze to the broken tree, Apple Bloom wrinkled her snout. "But don't you think we should probably get some help with this?"
"Sugarcube, we both know you're all the help I need." Applejack couldn't help but break into a chuckle when her sister shot her a crusty stare. "Just messin' witcha. Pretty sure the two of us ain't enough to clean all of this up by nightfall, so I went ahead and got a few extra hooves from town while I was at the market this mornin'. Will need some help hauling all these off anyway. They'll be coming by a bit later in the afternoon. In the meantime..."
Applejack retrieved her axe from the ground and hoisted it up onto her shoulder with a huff. Apple Bloom did the same, though she had with her a large pair of pruning shears instead. A cheery exchange of grins later, the two stepped forward into the wasteland before them, both equally determined to clear the family farm free of all the outstanding debris.
And for the better part of the next half hour, that was all they did. The pair tirelessly worked as a team, with Applejack chopping up the bark of the fallen tree into smaller chunks and Apple Bloom shearing off its frayed branches. It wasn't their first time doing this, of course—there had been many apple trees that were struck by lightning in their lifetime, so much so that the family will anticipate the loss of a tree, maybe even two, should a storm as ferocious as the one last night come to pass. Nevertheless, as Granny Smith said it best back when she was still around, one tree struck down was already one tree too many, though few had ever met a demise as impressive as the tree they were dismembering.
"What's his name?" Apple Bloom suddenly asked.
A whoosh as Applejack swung her axe down, its head wedging into the bark with a loud crack. "Whose name?"
"The tree," Apple Bloom clarified. Applejack could almost hear the waggling of her sister's eyebrows. "What did you name him?"
A downcast gaze at the charred body before them. "Don't know," she said, briefly inspecting it while tugging at the handle of her axe. "Don't think I ever named him. Or her. Could've been a her."
"She probably went by something old-fashioned sounding-like."
"Could've been a him."
"Like Juniper. Or Magnolia. Or something."
"Sugarcube, she's an apple tree," Applejack pointed out just as she yanked her axe free from the bark. "That's like if you had a newborn foal and you named the babe Yak."
"Hey, what's wrong"—Apple Bloom snorted back a laugh—"what's wrong with Appleyak?"
Applejack could only roll her eyes as her sister broke into a giggling fit. "All I know is that this fella's been around for a while," she continued. "Means if he or she ever had a name, we'd probably have to hear it from Goldie Delicious herself, and as much as I'd like for us to have a sisters-only road trip right about now, this farm ain't gonna clean itself."
"Maybe it would if we asked nicely."
"Well, good luck with that. Odds are it'll give us another mess to clean up anyway." With a hefty sigh, Applejack set aside her axe, fanning herself with her hat as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Gonna head back real quick to refill my canteen. Need me to do yours?"
"Sure thing!" Apple Bloom handed over her canteen. "Ooh, can you get me some of Sugar Belle's muffins while you're there? They should be fresh out of the oven about now! Please?"
Applejack chuckled and nodded. "I'll make sure there's enough for the both of us."
It was a long but customary traipse down the dirt path back to the farmhouse. Would've been a pleasant one too, were it not for the sweltering sun overhead, which was perplexing considering how heavy it had rained just the night before. Glancing up from beneath the shadow of her stetson, Applejack stopped briefly to furrow a sweaty brow at the clear skies, some part of her idly wondering what treacherous scheme the weather ponies were currently concocting behind her back this time, before shaking her head in resignation to what the fates may bring.
An invigorating aroma rushed out to greet her when she entered the front door. Sugar Belle didn't even notice her cantering into the kitchen—the baker was too busy topping her latest batch of apple muffins with a creamy swirl of frosting each, dressing them up and ready to be served to the workers coming to help clean the farm. It wasn't until Applejack went ahead and refilled the canteens at the sink that she perked up, greeting her with nothing more than a glance and a smile before immediately returning to work.
"Almost done, just give me a few more minutes, Jackie."
Applejack chortled. "No need to rush, sugarcube."
Sugar Belle was quick to do the contrary regardless. "I was planning on heading out to give you girls some water once I'm done with this," she gave an explanation as if it was owed. "Are you two doing alright out there?"
"Eeyup. Ain't our first rodeo, don't worry about it. Tree came down pretty hard last night though, so we have a bit of a bigger mess to clean up, but it's nothing we hadn't done before." Applejack drew her gaze towards the muffins. "How're they comin' along?"
"They're okay, I guess."
"Huh. They smelled great to me."
"They're a little flat on the top. I knew I should've added more baking soda into the batter." Sugar Belle stopped midway, settling back down into her chair. "Figures. Every time I work on a big order like this, something goes wrong. Maybe I should just make a new batch."
"And throw all these out, are ya kidding?"
"I know, I know!" Sugar Belle giggled with the candour of a dozen wind chimes. "I know. It's kinda stupid to say that, I guess. It's just that they're... you know!"
"Uh." Applejack tightened her smile. "Not really?"
"Muffins! The one thing I've been baking my entire life! Everything I taught myself, everything I learned from the Cakes, every recipe I've written down as well as the ones still stuck in my head, it's always the muffins that I'm the best at! Like if it was cornbread or... or scones or tartlets or anything else, you know, just not muffins!" The short laugh that followed crackled with shame. "I guess what I'm trying to say is they could've turned out better. They should've, and it just... it just annoys me that I can't always get it right."
"Sugar Belle, no one's tellin' you to do that."
"I get it." A sigh. "You're saying it's unnecessary. That I'm just being a little overdramatic."
To that, a chortle. "Not exactly."
Setting her hat onto the table, Applejack pulled up a nearby stool and sat across Sugar Belle. She leaned forwards, her chin level with the tray as she took a longer, harder look. The muffins stared back up at her from their silicone nests, their crumb-coated exteriors glazed in a golden sheen that gleamed brilliantly in the afternoon sun despite being the purported failures that they were.
"Between you and me, I think it's kinda important to think that sometimes," she said, glancing up with a grin to meet Sugar Belle's curious gaze. "I also happen to think that sometimes, the best thing we could do for today is just being good enough. And that sometimes, being good enough is what matters. Can I have one?"
The dainty nod from Sugar Belle was more than enough for her to pry one of the muffins from the tray and pop it into her mouth.
For the longest moment, all that was between them were the sounds of languid chewing and a long exchange of earnest stares. Throughout it, Applejack played the part of a finicky food critic, trying her best to maintain a straight face while Sugar Belle nervously shifted about her seat, the baker's excitement radiating from cheek to cheek as she waited with bated breath for the coming review.
Of course, there was never any doubt that the muffins were delicious. Even the most pompous nobles of Canterlot would find it impossible to denounce them after having a taste themselves. Nevertheless, the jovial grin that Applejack wore was the show of reassurance that Sugar Belle needed. Likewise, the sprightly giggle that Sugar Belle elicited in return mattered just as much to Applejack, perhaps even more so.
"Thanks. Think I needed to hear that."
Applejack chuckled. "Don't mention it. Anythin' you need, we're here for you. You're an Apple, after all. You're family."
"Family..." A long pause. "Applejack, can I get something off my chest? If that's okay?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Frankly, I wasn't sure if I was going to like it here, I really wasn't," Sugar Belle admitted, her voice soft with gratitude. "Like, visiting you three was one thing but actually living here? For the rest of my life? I couldn't really imagine it. I know, I know, it's strange, thinking about it now. When I got here too, I just... I don't know, everything just felt so new to me that I wasn't sure if I'd ever fit in."
Her gaze retreated to the space between the legs of her chair, a gentle crease growing in her dimpled cheeks.
"But the longer I've been here, the more... I don't know, the more I feel as though I was meant to be here all along. That it's because I'm here now that everything that came before started making sense," she continued. "It's weird, I know, but you get what I'm talking about, right? You ever get that feeling, Jackie? Like if you had been anywhere else, things wouldn't have worked out as well as they have?"
"Sometimes. Maybe a little more than I probably should," Applejack admitted with surprising ease. "Why, what brought this up?"
"I... don't know, actually. Guess I'm just being a bit schmaltzy right now, sorry about that." Another laugh. This one, however, was hefty. Laden with age. "It's just that I never really imagined that I would have... that I could be in a place this special."
"Special. Huh." Not a word that most ponies would use to describe Sweet Apple Acres, though Applejack had heard far worse. "I guess it kinda is in a way. Never really thought about it like that but it makes sense. It's home, after all."
"Mm-hmm." Sugar Belle let out a tender sigh, her gaze adrift. "This is what a home's supposed to be like."
Applejack wanted to agree. She could've very easily done so, in fact. It's just... the way Sugar Belle had said those words, the air that carried them as they left her lips—it reeked with a presence that was too unlike the mare it came from. For a moment, Applejack thought she had misheard it, that it was just something she had imagined, but as the silence between them grew longer and the ruminant frown on Sugar Belle's face became darker, more pronounced, there was no denying what those words had been filled with.
This is what a home's supposed to be like.
Resentment.
"Applejack!" a shrill voice from outside filled the room. Apple Bloom's. "Applejack, are you there?"
"What's the matter?" the aforementioned mare took a second to yell back, trotting up towards the kitchen window with Sugar Belle following close behind. Apple Bloom was standing on top of the nearest hill, frantically waving at them as if her life depended on it. "What is it, Bloom, what happened?"
"The ponies you asked for help! They're here!"
"And you had to go and make a big scare out of it," Applejack quipped underneath her breath, rolling her eyes while Sugar Belle giggled. "Alright! Just tell them to go on ahead, Apple Bloom! I'll be down in a minute or two—"
"No, not that!" Apple Bloom immediately interjected. "They found something! They were lifting up the tree and they found something falling out of it and... y-you have to come and see this! Now!"
With that, her sister ran off, leaving her baffled at the sudden turn of events. Thinking about it, it wouldn't be the first time Apple Bloom had called for her out of the blue like that, looking and sounding all panicked, only for Applejack to be sorely disappointed with whatever she had been making a huge fuss about. Some part of her had been secretly hoping for Apple Bloom to finally grow out of that phase one day, in fact. Exactly when that mythical day would come, Applejack can only imagine.
"Is everything alright, Jackie?"
"Everything's fine. Far as I know anyway." Applejack's gaze strayed back out the window again. "I'll head out and see what all the hullabaloo's about."
"I'll come with you. Oh, and I'll bring the muffins!" Sugar Belle offered, though it wasn't until she turned back to the meadow of muffin trays stretched out across the table that she only fully realised the scope of the work that was ahead of her. "You know what, I think it's better if you go on ahead first. Probably won't take me too long to plate these all proper-like, hooves crossed."
Applejack couldn't help but laugh. "No need to rush, sugarcube. And I really mean it this time."
Sugar Belle responded with nothing more than a cheeky giggle and a mock salute.
The sweltering heat that had been simmering throughout the afternoon seemed to have diminished by the time Applejack had emerged from the farmhouse. Scarves of grey enshrouded the summer sun as they slowly stretched themselves across the sky, the ineludible herald of the storm that was to come later that night. All Applejack could do was toss an upward glance of worry, praying deep down that Sweet Apple Acres will emerge completely unscathed this time as she made her way back to the mess left behind from the night before.
Beneath her hooves, the tremors went unnoticed.
.
for we were but a penitent few, we know this much to be true. we can only look for help in each other.
exiles in symbiosis.
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thought of how incapable i was. harkening back to unkept promises, those grave mistakes. what manner of prayer would absolve us, elusive still. rations have whittled down to stalks of wheat, five.
she claims i should have prayed harder.
the guidance i seek escapes quill and parchment all the same.
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HE who speaks in tongues
spoke naught amidst our tribulations
our time of need
why is it so
curse HIS silence
apathy, convenient
|—|—
| | |
beware
beware
beware
neath sleeps HE
.
"What the hay is this?"
It protruded from between a gaping abyss in the decaying bark of the charred tree, what Applejack had at first thought to be a stray branch. It was desiccating, strip by calloused strip falling away as it reemerged into the sunlight, fumigating the air with an abhorrent stench of morel and mayflies. On its surface roosted a scaffolding of maggots, some of which had begun crawling back down into the familiar darkness while the rest wriggled across its surface en masse like anemones.
"What the hay is this, somepony tell me!"
Applejack was met with only silence from all the workers around her.
She knew, however, that there would only be silence. She had expected it, in fact.
For the silence came not because the answer was beyond their comprehension, but because they could never muster the courage to accept it.
And Applejack was no better. She recognized it for what it was immediately, this dilated monolith swelling out from deep within the scorched confines of the fallen tree. She knew deep down, as did everypony else, what exactly she was looking at.
It was a bifurcating stalk of Equestrian hooves, conjoined at the elbow.
It was, in other words, a corpse-in-waiting.
"Apple Bloom, go get the guard."
.
say grace
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sing it loud
— |
for home is HE
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for HE
is
HOME
Decadence, As Performed By Four Calling Birds
Movement II. Ossa Aeternum Oritur
Applejack once believed that darkness, like light, comes in rays.
She was seven when she first conceived the idea, back when she would turn her nose at haystacks because she believed they were made from leftover trimmings gathered from all the barbershops across Equestria, or when she would cower beneath her bedsheets in the winter because she believed the Spirits of Hearth’s Warming would snatch away little fillies who stayed up late at night. But the one about darkness made more sense to her than the others. After all, sunlight comes in rays! Moonlight does as well! So it would only make sense that darkness would be doing the same thing that they’re doing!
Except it’s just better at it. A whole lot better.
Darkness was a spider, one with legs that would stretch out from one corner of the room to all the others.
She had since grown out of it, of course. Not since that night where she had made a huge fuss about it to Big Mac, who proceeded to tease her and mock her over it for several days afterwards, as was typical of him way back then. She couldn’t be blamed for thinking that, of course—try telling a seven-year-old filly that sometimes, just because it looks like there’s something there doesn’t always mean there’s actually anything there. That sometimes, what you’re seeing is really just a whole bunch of nothing.
But that don't make them any less important. Sometimes, having nothing tells you exactly what you need. That’s why every creature took to giving the ‘nothing’ a lot of different names, one of which just so happens to be the thing that we all call darkness.
And when we see that it’s dark, we know then that all we need is a little bit of light.
Granny Smith had her way of helping her make sense of things, that’s for sure.
“Naw, was just us. Me and Apple Bloom.”
Knowing her, she would definitely know how to deal with the guard.
“We just found it like that, swear to the princesses.”
What would she say to them?
“The tree got struck by lightning last night. Y’know, heavy storm and all. We were cuttin' it down, gettin' it ready to be carted off. We, uh, we do that anytime that happens, just so y’all should know. It’s something we’re used to doing. We’re taught to do it as fillies.”
What did Granny Smith know about this that they don’t?
“Can’t say. All I know is that the tree’s been around a while. It’s old. Really old. Ain’t got a clue how long it’s been there. Nothing about any dead body either, nothing of that sort. Matter of fact, I don’t even think about that sorta work. None of us on the farm do. Ain’t right to even dream about doin' anything like that.”
Did Granny Smith even know about this?
About any of this?
“I’m just a farmer, y’all know that. Honest to goodness. I don’t know a thing.”
The soft gleam of the evening cradled her when Applejack emerged from the barracks of the local constable, though she had been too preoccupied with the grim tidings of the afternoon to welcome it. The dirt path beneath her hooves folded over and over, ceaselessly pulling itself from underneath her in spite of the fatigue swirling in her fetlocks. For the longest while, all she did was wander about Ponyville without purpose or destination in mind. However, it wasn’t long before she caught a whiff of the currents in the air, the ones bearing scents earthy and familiar, that finally saw her cantering out of town.
The trademark barnhouse of Sweet Apple Acres was a welcome sight as it rose brilliantly from the horizon, a stalwart garnet standing amid the braided hillsides. White fences stretched out across the valley, all of them leading back to a leafy archway where a wooden sign with a carved-out apple hung from above, swinging in the wind as if eagerly waving in all who passed it by into the Apple homestead’s immeasurable embrace.
It was there that Applejack finally allowed herself to smile and relax, her stiff gait slackening into gentle strides as she made her way past the many coops and pens before reaching the front door.
Only for it to burst open as a pair of hooves lunged out to wrangle her by her withers.
“Horseapples, don’t do that to me, AB,” Applejack gasped once she regained her breath, only to break into a chuckle when she felt a light dampness growing in her chest. “And don’tcha go cryin' on me either.”
“She’s been waiting for you for quite some time,” Sugar Belle’s voice echoed from the kitchen, before emerging into the living room with her best grin on display in spite of the black circles hanging beneath her drooping eyes. “What did you tell them?”
“The truth. That we know nothing.” Applejack plopped herself onto the nearest chair she could find. “Only thing I could be sure about was the tree and how old it was. None about the feller inside. Hay, they had a lot of questions about him. Or her, could be a her.”
“You think…” Apple Bloom gulped. “You think Granny Smith knew about this?”
“Dunno. Don’t wanna know. Would make sense that she knew something about it. Woulda made more sense if she didn’t wanna tell us. At the same time, Granny ain’t the type to leave us to clean up after her messes, least the ones a simple broom couldn’t fix anyway. She would’ve told me or Mac about it, I’m sure.”
“So…” Sugar Belle exhaled. “What now? What do we do?”
“We do nothing. We sleep it off. Come next morn, we clean up what’s left of the tree. Hopefully by then, the guards will’ve figured something out.” Applejack chuckled dolefully when her response was met with a pair of anxious frowns. “Now, look y’all, I’m hankering for answers too. All this ain’t right, I know it ain’t. But the best thing for us right now is to not think about it too much. It don’t make sense, none of it does, but it can’t ever make sense if we don’t even know where to start.”
“We could search Granny’s bedroom,” Apple Bloom suggested. “That’s a start, right?”
Applejack shook her head. “Already did that with Macintosh a few times over, to sort her stuff out. Found nothin' important.”
“Did ya try checking underneath the floorboards?”
“Did that and then some. Nothing. Which ain’t that big of a surprise when you count all the times this place got torn to the ground,” Applejack pointed out with a dry laugh. “Basically, if Granny Smith ever left anything behind that could’ve helped us, it would've been long gone by now.”
Apple Bloom slumped onto the floor, a fretful nicker jetting out from between her clenched teeth. “So what, we just wait around?”
“Eeyup. Least ‘til whenever Big Mac comes back.”
“Tomorrow night,” Sugar Belle chimed in. “Letter from Mac came in while you were at the station. Says he’ll be able to make it around that time.”
“So the day after tomorrow then.” Leaning forward, Applejack concluded thusly: “We’ll run things through with him in the morning once he’s rested up, catch him up to speed. Who knows, he may have seen or heard a thing or two from Granny back then that we’ve missed. Then Mac and I will go to the guard, see if they have anything new for us.”
“Wait, what about me?” Apple Bloom raised her hoof to ask. “Don’t you think I should go?”
“Don’t know about that, Apple Bloom.”
“Why not? I can help, you know that!”
“I know you can, it’s just…” Applejack bit her lip, hooves cramming against the couch. “Sugarcube, whatever the guard’s gonna talk to us about, it sure as hay ain’t gonna be nice.”
“I saw the body, okay? I was the one who called you over to see it in the first place.”
“Don’t mean you should get yourself involved in it any more than you already did,” the farmpony said. “Look, I have no idea what’s going on. None of us do. Whatever happened to that fella, odds are it could happen to us. Course, I could be wrong, and all of this could just be a fluke. But until we can be sure it’s safe, I ain’t taking any chances.”
“But it’s fine if you do it.”
Applejack had only a hapless shrug. “One of us has to.”
To which Apple Bloom responded with a groan and a roll of her eyes, before standing up and stomping out of the room.
“Bloom.” Sugar Belle rose to her hooves. “Apple Bloom, wait—”
“It’s fine.” Applejack stopped the other mare in her tracks. “Just leave her be. She’ll come around eventually.”
“She does have a point, you know?” the baker turned to face her with a stoop in her brows. “Apple Bloom can help. I can too. It’s not fair that you’re the only one putting yourself in danger for the rest of our sakes.”
An airy sigh. “I know it ain’t, shug. But like I said, I’m not going to put us all in danger unless I’m sure about what we’re dealing with here. Better me than all of us at once. If something happened to either of you because of me, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”
“And if something happened to you?”
“Then I’ll find my way out of it, like I always do!” she proclaimed, however unconvincing it may have sounded. “So long as it means keepin' everypony safe.”
Sugar Belle eventually acquiesced with a scant nod, if only because she must’ve realised nothing she could say would persuade Applejack otherwise. “But if you need help,” she stressed all the same, “just know that we’re here for you, alright?”
To which Applejack responded with a confident and mirthful: “Countin' on it.”
Even if deep down, she sorely wished that it would never come to pass.
The afternoon that followed was uneventful, as afternoons should be.
Farmwork had kept the family preoccupied throughout the day. All the hours they’ve spent bucking apples and baling hay meant that they had little time to think about everything that had transpired yesterday. By sundown, none of them had the energy for anything else, much less speculate about things best left in the dark.
Work had always been Applejack’s prevailing home remedy, however taxing it can be. She appreciated the mundanity that came with the daily routine, the kind that can only be found growing in between the wheat fields and the apple trees. Plus, no harm ever came from a hard day's work beyond the occasional sprained hoof. Certainly nothing malevolent either.
But above all else, it was familiar. It reminded her of what her home is. That Sweet Apple Acres was far bigger—far more benign—than a body in a tree. That this was a land that belonged to a family of honest farmers. That the soil they tilled, the seeds they planted, the crops they watered and the apple trees they bucked—all of it was the honest work of generations past, culminating in the present and ready to be bestowed to those who would take their place in the future.
It was a cycle cultivated with care and sincerity. A legacy, one of the Apple variety.
A legacy that had been tarnished by a body in a tree.
The thought of it had kept Applejack up into the depths of the night. It had been hanging over her shoulder earlier, casting a twisted shadow over the family as they ate in silence at the dinner table. Now, she could only stare at it with a weary scowl as it danced about her bedroom ceiling, tearing across the rafters to the rhythm of the shambling rain, all while cackling at her inability to do anything but despair at the quandary before her.
It didn't take long for Applejack to accept that she wasn't about to get much sleep that night. She cantered out of her bedroom, her frustrated grumbles lost to a gaping yawn as she made her way downstairs. The dim light coming from the living room did stop her in her tracks, until she remembered that Sugar Belle had opted earlier to stay awake to welcome Big Mac whenever he comes home. The hounding storm outside certainly threw a wrench in their plans, though Sugar Belle, true to the Apple name, was a mare determined.
"How ya holdin' up, sugarcube?" Applejack asked as she strode in. She had found Sugar Belle seated on the couch by the window, wrapped in a blanket and staring out into the pouring rain with only the warmth of the lantern by her side. "Any luck spotting him?"
Sugar Belle shook her head. "I don't think he’s coming back tonight."
"That's fine by me. So long as he's safe." Applejack sauntered over to sit by her side. "You can go upstairs and rest if you want. I can take over."
"It's okay.” Sugar Belle smiled at the offer nevertheless. “I don’t mind staying up with you, keep you company. Or wait, is it you who’s keeping me company?”
“We’re keepin' each other company,” was what Applejack settled on, grinning alongside her sister-in-law. “Though frankly, I’m beginning to think I need yours more than you do mine.”
“We can talk about it?”
Applejack offered nothing but a vacant simper.
Sugar Belle pursed her lips. She pressed the hoof on the other’s forearm. “Come on, what’s bothering you?”
Moments later, a muted “Everything.”
“Well, that certainly narrows it down.”
Applejack chortled at that little quip. “I don’t know how to describe it,” she said, glancing out the window and looking over the farm being consumed in the midnight rain, before turning back and voicing out the question that had been drawing whirlwinds in her head. “Do you... do you maybe think this is all my fault somehow?”
Her words gave Sugar Belle pause. “How’d you mean?”
“It all happened on my watch.” Applejack’s gaze fell outwards once more, this time over to where the body had been found. “That tree could’ve been struck by lightning when Granny was around, or when Ma and Pa were still around with her. Hay, with how old it is, it could’ve happened even before then. But it didn’t.”
“It could’ve been a coincidence.”
“Could very well be. Then again, Granny always used to say that there ain’t no such things as coincidences on this farm.”
“Coincidence or not, I don’t think it’s any fault of yours.” Sugar Belle shifted closer to her. “You said it yourself, that tree’s been there for a while. You couldn’t have known anything about it.”
“I know, Shug. It’s just… how do I say this… Granny Smith left the farm to us. It’s our job to take care of it now, our responsibility. And as much as I hate the idea, I can’t help but feel like this might be a part of that as well.”
Sugar Belle furrowed her brows. “You really think Granny Smith knew about this all along?”
“I’m beginning to,” Applejack admitted with a quiver in her voice. “Every time I think about how this could’ve happened, I keep coming back to it. Granny was here from the very moment Ponyville had been founded, so it only makes sense that she knew what happened from the start.”
“So why didn’t she tell you anything about it?”
“Maybe she couldn’t,” the farmpony postulated. “Maybe… maybe she didn’t want to. Maybe she did tell somepony or wrote it down somewhere but it got lost along the way. Or maybe I’m wrong and she never knew about it in the first place.” Applejack couldn’t help but let loose the strained laugh scratching at her throat. “Celestia, I really hope I’m wrong.”
Sugar Belle squeezed her hoof.
“I don’t know what to think," Applejack continued. "The fact that Granny Smith could have something to do with it.” The words that had been chewing at her chest all night finally came to the fore. “I don’t know what that would mean for us, or for the farm. Matter of fact, if it were up to me, I think I don’t ever wanna know. But I’m startin' to feel like I ain’t got a choice in the matter. That there ain’t an out for us, no way, no how, and when the time comes, there just might be hell for us to pay.”
As if on cue, a flash of lightning lit up the night. The rumbling thunder that ensued prompted Applejack to shoot a worried glance upwards as the rafters above began to rattle to its booming tune. Outside, the rain lashing against the windows grew heavier, more restless, as if it had been emboldened by the very words that had left her lips.
“But would it really change anything?”
Sugar Belle’s question emerged as a quiet whisper amid the furor, yet it rang far louder in Applejack’s ears than any other noise the storm outside could hope to conjure.
“Say that again?”
“Would it really change anything,” she repeated, louder and firmer this time. “About how you personally feel about Granny Smith. About how you see her. As her granddaughter.”
Applejack frowned, perhaps more so at herself than at her sister-in-law. Some part of her realised something that she knew all along—that on a quieter, much rosier night, she would’ve laughed such an obvious question off the table without even a second’s hesitation. After all, with everything that Granny Smith had done for them, not to mention the entire Apple family at large, it was wrong for her to even have to pause for a second and reconsider just how much Granny Smith meant to all of them in the first place.
Perhaps that was the true test all along. That no skeleton in the proverbial closet should ever sully the good name of Granny Smith in spite of all the darker possibilities at play. Perhaps all that’s expected of Applejack was for her to firmly believe that all of this will tide over in time, and that the Apple family name, on its own, would persevere.
Even so, Applejack couldn’t help but wonder.
Would that really be the right thing to do?
“Sugar Belle.” Applejack turned back to the mare in question. “If I could ask ya something, and I mean to hear you out earnestly, what do you think I should be doin' right about now?”
“Me?” A skittish laugh escaped from Sugar Belle. “A-Asking me, why, Jackie, I don’t think I could give any advice of any kind, much less anything about family! I-I just think I’m not—I just don’t, I...” She gulped. “I mean, why me?”
“Cause you’re the only other pony here right now. But also, ‘cause I’d like another opinion, ‘specially from somepony who’s rather new to the family.” Applejack attempted a reassuring grin. “Somepony who’s been around long enough to know the ins and outs, yet ain’t quite set in our ways just yet.”
“Applejack, please.”
“I trust ya, sugarcube. That’s why I’m askin' ya.” Applejack reached out from the dark and into the lantern’s glimmering shroud, meeting in the middle to cup Sugar Belle’s forehooves in between her own pair. “You’re an Apple now, Sugar Belle. You’re family. And I get it, you might think to yourself that you’re still new here, that it ain’t your place to speak your mind. But it don’t change the fact that what you have to say about the family matters, even if you don’t think it does.”
“And it’s something you can’t wait until tomorrow to ask Mac or Bloom about?”
“Mac has enough work on his plate as it is. As for Bloom, I…” Her eyes drew upwards to where her sister slept, her voice shirking into something between a breathless chuckle and a frazzled sigh. “I can’t help but keep thinkin' that she’s too young for things like these. Make no mistake, I’m really glad she’s been makin' an effort to help us out a lot more. ‘Specially if it’s farmwork, I’m all for Apple Bloom taking the initiative. But there’s just some things a mare her age shouldn’t be worryin' about. And as her big sis, I can’t help it, you know?”
To that, Sugar Belle let slip one of her dainty giggles. It was softer than the usual fare, drowned out almost by the wind and the rain. The precious yet peculiar sound twinkled like dewdrops as it skated along the night’s black gossamer threads, carrying within itself the warmth that Applejack had always found comforting and oddly familiar.
“Well, if that’s how you feel about them,” Sugar Belle said to her in a tone most sincere, “then I think that it doesn’t really matter what I think. I mean, you’re always doing your best, especially if it concerns the rest of us. What matters, I guess, is whether or not you think this will help us in the end. And if you think it does, I’ll be right behind you every step of the way.”
For a moment, brief as it seemed, the rain outside lapsed into a calm. The lantern’s flickering bloom, like a light breeze, rushed in to fill the quiet left behind. Applejack could feel the shadows over her shoulder momentarily receding, terrified perhaps in the face of such blinding warmth, and though she knew she was not quite out of the woods yet, she still found herself smiling all the same.
“Shucks.”
“I’m guessing that helped?”
“More than you know, even if what you did ain’t fair,” Applejack exhaled as Sugar Belle giggled sweetly once more. “Didn’t expect you’d sweet talk your way out of answerin' me, though I’m glad there’s at least one pony around here that believes in me. I’m glad I asked ya.”
“I’m glad you did. I... wasn’t sure if I would be, but now I am.”
“You gotta have more faith in yourself, Shug.”
“I know, I know, I…” Sugar Belle’s laughter faded into a sigh. “I guess you could say all of this family stuff is a little new to me. I never really had a say in these kinds of things before.”
“Not even with your folks?”
“My parents… to be honest, they weren’t really around for a lot of my life.”
Every word Applejack had held close to her chest immediately crumbled into silence. “I-I’m sorry, I didn't know, didn’t mean ta—”
“Huh? Oh! Oh no no no, it’s okay, they’re fine, they’re okay!” A boisterous chuckle. “Gosh, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. They’re still around, I think! I just… I haven’t really been keeping in touch with them. Haven’t done so for a long time now.”
“Why not?”
“We’re… not close. We never were.”
Applejack heard it again.
Hissing like a roach. Resting in the pauses between the other mare’s every word. Hiding right behind the thorns that make up her cracking smile. Bubbling just beneath it, lying in wait.
Resentment. A colour she had heard from Sugar Belle only once before.
”This is what a home’s supposed to be like.”
However, Applejack had seen it. Too many times, in fact. It was in the way Sugar Belle would sidestep every question about her life before Starlight’s town, the silent smiles she would retreat into every time one of them reminisced about Ma and Pa. Or, perhaps most glaringly, her adamant refusal at Pinkie Pie’s offer to write them invitations to their daughter’s own wedding.
And each and every time, Applejack pretended not to notice. Each and every time, she sternly reminded herself not to bring it up. As Rarity would put it, every mare has her secrets, so it’s no surprise that Sugar Belle would have her fair share. Secrets that, Applejack reckoned, she would come to reveal to everyone else in her own time.
But everything has its time. Every pony has their limits. There’s only so long a secret can last before the truth comes free. There’s only so long Sugar Belle could keep it in without its shadow consuming every corner and facet of her life. And, likewise, there’s only so long that Applejack could tolerate watching her own sister-in-law struggle to keep at it without letting the darkness tear herself apart.
“Did something happen?” she brought herself to ask.
She had to.
She just had to.
Sugar Belle suddenly turned towards her.
The sharpest of glares, shooting forth from her eyes.
Only to immediately die down as her gaze sagged towards the floorboards.
“No,” she murmured soon after. “No, nothing happened.”
Then, a laugh.
Sizzling, like flames.
“But I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it? Nothing happened. Nothing ever did.”
Applejack bit her lip, the shadows around them once more closing in. “What do you mean by that?”
Sugar Belle opened her mouth to answer, only to stop midway as she was turning back towards the window, prompting Applejack to follow suit.
Out there, in the distance, was a flicker of orange. It shimmered through the whipping palls of the midnight rain, swaying gently, unwaveringly, in spite of the pummelling winds. Slowly but surely, it pushed its way through the storm, criss-crossing in between the silhouettes of the trembling trees as it clambered over the battered hillsides and approached the warmer embrace of the farmhouse in its sights.
“Is… is that…”
Applejack squinted. “Seems like it,” she muttered, a grimace forming. “Can’t believe him. What the hay was Mac thinking, coming back home in a storm like this?”
“Towels!” Sugar Belle chirruped, leaping from the couch and scampering off into the kitchen. “We’ll need some towels! A-A drink too, something warm!”
“You go get the water, I’ll fetch the towels!“ Applejack stood up with a rumbling sigh and made her way towards the bathroom. “Seriously, Mac, one more day wouldn’t hurt anypony.”
Minutes later, the farmpony came back to the living room with a pile of towels on her back and set them onto the nearest table she could find. She looked over at Sugar Belle, who was perched on the back of the couch and looking out the window. “Everything okay, Shug?”
“Everything’s fine, it’s just…” the other mare leaned into the glass for a better look. “I think… I think he stopped moving.”
“Wagon wheel got caught in the mud, I reckon. Rain’ll do that to ya.” Shaking her head, Applejack trotted over to join her. Sure enough, the light outside had stopped moving, quivering in the rain like a lost filly. “Frankly speakin', Mac should know that by now. Don’t know how many times I need to tell him that. He’s lucky it happened close to home.”
“He can see us, right?” Sugar Belle turned. “Shouldn’t he be waving his lantern, call for help or something?”
“He should be.”
Yet he wasn’t.
The light remained where it was.
Waiting.
Watching.
“What the hay is he doing out there?”
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The pummelling came from the front door, startling both of them so much that they almost fell off the couch. Catching her breath, Applejack’s glance darted over towards Sugar Belle, who could only stare at her from the corner of the cushions she had crumbled into, her trembling eyes as wide as saucers.
“Who… who is it?” she quietly asked.
“Dunno.” Applejack swallowed, glancing back at the front door. “Shouldn’t be anypony ‘round at this hour.”
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Both mares jumped again.
Sugar Belle whimpered, retreating further into the dark.
“Wait—” Applejack swallowed. “Wait here. I’ll… I’ll answer it.”
Rising from the couch, Applejack crossed over into the darkness as she made her way to the front door. The banging had not started again since then, though for how much longer, she wasn’t sure. Holding her breath, the farmpony pushed herself to stare ahead into the front door and face whatever pony or creature standing it, her quivering hoof coming to rest on the latch holding it shut.
"Hello?"
All was quiet.
“Is anypony there?”
Quiet. Still.
"Who’s… who’s there?
“AJ?” A gravelly voice rumbled from beyond. “AJ, that you?”
“Big Mac?”
Applejack immediately tugged the latch to the side, allowing the door to swing inward. Right before her, drenched in the rain with splotches of mud caking his sides, was none other than Macintosh himself. The stallion let out a raspy yet relieved sigh at her familiar face, trudging past her and into the farmhouse despite his dripping, grimy state.
“Thank Celestia y’all still awake,” he said, chuckling lowly. “Wasn’t looking forward to sleeping out in the barn for the night after all that.”
“Macintosh!” Sugar Belle’s horn lit up, grabbing one of the towels before quickly bounding over towards him. “Celestia’s sake, what were you thinking, coming back in the storm like that?!”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Big Mac said with a sheepish chuckle as she began wiping him down. “Though from the looks of it, it seems like the two of you’s been expecting me anyways.”
“That’s because we knew you’d do it anyway! You could’ve gotten hurt out there, Mac!”
“Eeyup. Sorry for making you worry.”
Warm as their reunion was, Applejack’s gaze, however, was not drawn to the couple. Instead, she cantered past them and steadily made her way back towards the window, her heart sinking into her stomach as she glanced outside once more with a darkening frown.
The light was still there.
Still in the same place as before.
Watching from the dark.
Waiting.
“Who the hay’s that?” Big Mac’s voice rumbled from behind Applejack as he trotted up to join her. Sugar Belle, still busy wiping him down, followed behind soon after, only to stop with a light gasp when she saw it as well.
“We thought…” she muttered. “We thought that was you.”
All three pairs of eyes turned back to the light in the distance, watching it as it flickered in place within the depths of the raging night. It glowed only brightly enough for it to be visible—whoever or whatever holding it up was still hidden in the dark. For a moment, it seemed as though it was beginning to edge closer towards the house, as though it too yearned for the comfort of their home.
Then, a blink later, it vanished.
Swallowed by the darkness surrounding it.
Returning to it, maybe.
Or perhaps it was making a move.
Almost immediately, Applejack galloped back to the front door, the very same one she had left ajar. With a firm pull, she slammed it shut, before yanking its latch back in place.
“Macintosh, did you lock up the barn?”
“AJ, what’s going on?”
“Did you lock it up or not, just tell me!”
Big Mac flinched. “Yes, ‘course I did!”
“Sugar Belle, go check the back door.” The other mare hastily did so without question, leaving Applejack and Big Mac alone. “Listen, something’s happened while you’re away. Something bad.”
“How bad?”
Applejack gravely shook her head in place of an answer. “I don’t know who’s out there, but if they had a say in what happened, I ain’t taking any chances.”
“E-Everything’s locked up!” Sugar Belle called from the kitchen, the mare herself galloping back to rejoin them. “It’s… it’s them, isn’t it? Whoever’s responsible for the body?”
“Wait, what?” Big Mac turned to his wife. “What body? Wait just a minute, what happened?”
Before either mare could speak up, a loud crack burst through the room.
A burst of orange has erupted outside—one of the apple trees had been struck by lightning again. Blazing as bright and powerful as the last one, the monument of smoke and fire screamed up to the sky in the face of the howling storm, leaving all three ponies to shudder and look on in awe and terror.
“Should we… should we be putting it out?” Big Mac thought to ask.
“No,” Applejack gulped, knowing full well that there’s something out there waiting for them if they do. “No, just leave it.”
The taunting flames raged on, colouring the night as it shrieked orange.
The cackling of the rafters started rattling in the walls.
The shadows around her began to close in, converging beneath the hooves of everypony in the room as it swayed along to the ember’s erratic tune.
And all Applejack could bring herself to do was sit there.
“We...”
Back in the same place as before.
"We’ll deal with it tomorrow."
Watching from the dark.
Waiting.
“Let it burn.”
Author's Note
Spent way too much time on this chapter.
Massive thanks to the wonderful HapHazred for giving it a look!
