Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Like The Pony
A warm breeze blew through the northern orchard, carrying with it the cloying smell of apple blossoms. Big Macintosh inhaled deeply to drink in the heady aroma, and then slowly, contentedly sighed. Another spring, and another crop of apples on the way, the large, red pony thought as he slowly moved amongst the trees. He stopped to inspect each one for any problems, especially for damage the winter might have caused, and was content to find that all the trees he had seen today were healthy.
Thoughts of another productive year drifted through the stallion's head. It sure will be nice to have something to do again, Macintosh mused, as he continued the monthly inspection. 'Course, it ain't a problem havin' off time. And heavens know we always got more work than's comfortable durin' Applebuckin' and Cider seasons, but at least it helps the days pass by. He idly kicked a small stone lying exposed on the path. It don't hurt to have some extra income from sellin' in-season apples, either. The earth pony grunted to himself at that, and then paused to enjoy the feeling of the sun's warmth soaking into his coat and skin as he walked into a clearing.
A brief rustling of leaves brought him back to reality, and Macintosh opened his eyes to watch a bluejay nesting in a tree. He smiled at that, and then turned to continue his rounds. Always nice ta see life comin'—
He never finished that thought, as he abruptly came face to face with an aquamarine pony with an insane grin on her muzzle.
“Gah!” Macintosh yelped, as he hopped back half a pony length. “Who the hay are you?” he asked, his tone a bit higher than usual.
“Hiya!” the unicorn said, smiling as if nothing was wrong. “Do you know what 'in medias res' means?” she asked, her voice both friendly and perky.
“Uh,” Big Mac uttered, still mentally off-balance from the sudden appearance of the stranger. “I, ah, don't think you answered my—”
“It's a story-telling technique,” the perky pony interrupted, as her horn lit up. Nearby, two rocks lifted off the ground and then floated over. “Whereby you start the story in the middle of the action, and then establish characters later through various means.”
“Er, that's nice,” Macintosh replied, as the two rocks floated up towards his face and stopped just a bit in front of his muzzle. “But what does—”
“See, sometimes it can be hard to gain an audience's attention through careful character building right off the bat,” the unicorn continued, heedless of Mac's confused protests. “And it can be helpful for an author to establish the basic relationship between main characters through their actions. Say, if they're antagonists, they fight.” She paused in her narrative to loudly clack the two rocks together. She opened her mouth to continue, but suddenly paused and then clacked the rocks again, which sent an odd feeling up Macintosh's spine.
“Or, they could be romantically involved,” she finally added, and then slowly rubbed the rocks together in a manner that made Big Mac raise an eyebrow and shift back a half step. “Either way, by starting in the middle of things you've already got the audience's attention and can just build from there.”
“That's... nice,” Macintosh said, as his ears pinned back to match his growing sense of unease. “I still don't see—”
“Of course,” the unicorn interrupted yet again, as she floated the two rocks back and then danced them in the air a bit. “There's another use for 'in medias res' that is sometimes frowned upon, but is usually accepted if it's done right,” she added, stopped the rocks in midair, and then leaned in towards Big Macintosh. The smile seeped off of her face, and she waved the large stallion forward with a hoof in a conspiratorial manner.
Despite himself and his concerns, Macintosh felt his curiosity pique just a bit. He leaned his head forward slightly, but the mysterious mare frowned at the trepid move and waved for Mac to move in closer. The stallion frowned in return as irritation joined with his unease, but his upraising taught him to be respectful towards mares as much as possible, so he leaned in just a bit more until his face was only a few inches away from hers.
“See, sometimes you want the action to be a distraction,” the mare all but whispered. “To keep the audience guessing, to make them ponder, 'just what is going on?'” Her smile returned at that, and this time Mac saw a strange twinkle in her eye. “That way an author can slip salient points past them to use as a surprise later, or even use the action to distract the protagonists themselves from something occurring at the same time so that way there's no plot holes when the surprise is revealed.
“Which brings me to something important,” the unicorn added. “Suck in your gut, would ya?”
“Huh?” Mac uttered, and then blinked his eyes in the utter confusion the other pony's request generated. He then realized that a weight had been set upon his back, and he glanced there to see a large, well-built saddle had been emplaced while he'd been distracted.
A sigh met his ears just then. “Fine, I'll do it,” the mare said, and then walked up to Mac's side. The stallion turned his head to give her a piece of his mind, but a swift kick from a foreleg slammed into his diaphragm and knocked the air right out of his lungs. A muted sigh of air escaped Mac's lips, and before he could recover he felt a strap pulled taut over his barrel and buckled. His next breath brought the unfamiliar feeling of the band pulling snug against his flesh; not so much that it constricted his breathing, but certainly more than enough to keep the saddle from slipping off.
“Wow, that worked,” the unicorn said, with a grin and a bit of wonder in her voice as she inspected the strap she had worked with her magic. “Just like the books said. It didn't hurt much, did it?” she asked, turning her attention to Big Macintosh's face.
“Not really,” Mac honestly replied, still a bit stunned to think of anything else to say but the truth. “A bit of a sting, but—” He blinked as his mind finally kicked back into gear, and the stallion shook his head briefly before spitting the unicorn with an angry glare. “Now what in tarnation do you think you're doing, anyway?” he asked, heatedly. “Comin' up ta strange ponies ya don't even know and slappin' a saddle on 'em?”
“You're not that strange,” the mare replied, even as she lifted the rocks she had used earlier and floated them between her and Big Mac's faces again. “Now, these rocks?” she asked, suddenly shifting topics. “They're strange. One is clearly sandstone, but the other has a mix of crystals that implies an igneous, or possibly metamorphic origin. Yet I found both in this field. Isn't that odd?”
“What the hay does that have ta do with anythin'?” Macintosh demanded, flustered at the mare's evasiveness.
The unicorn grinned disconcertingly, and then shook the rocks a bit. “It just confirms my suspicions about Equestria, that's all,” she said, and then tossed the rocks off to the side, where they bounced off of a tree and made two loud thunks that sounded very similar to applebucking.
Big Mac's head automatically turned at the noise in surprise, and as such he didn't see the mare make her move. He felt it, however, as a sudden weight was added to his back, and though it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, the shifting nature of somepony climbing into a saddle did make him sway and shift his legs a bit to stay upright. Macintosh turned his head and neck around as soon as the mare stopped moving, and he saw her sitting upright in the saddle. She held her forelegs up and a bit out from her center to help steady her balance as she settled her rear hooves into the stirrups. “Okay, I think I got this,” she said, enthusiasm in her voice.
“What yer gonna git is a buck off my back if'n ya don't hop down in five seconds,” Macintosh ground out, as anger began to replace his shock and his accent deepened in response. “Ah don't know who the hay ya are but—”
“Oh! Right!” the mare interrupted again. “I'm Lyra Heartstrings, nice to meet you!” she said, and then held out her right foreleg for a hoofshake.
Macintosh gave the hoof an incredulous look, and then turned a harsh glare at Lyra. “Okay, firstly, yer ridin' on mah back; Ah can't rightly reach up ta shake proper like. Secondly, even if Ah could, ya slapped a saddle on me and climbed on without permission. So what in the deeps o' Tartarus makes ya think Ah want ta shake hooves?”
The smile on Lyra's face faded a bit at that, and she slowly brought her foreleg back. After a moment, however, the smile returned full force, and she shrugged. “Okay then. Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering what this is all about?”
“That's what Ah've been asking ya—erk!” he yelped in surprise, as something floated out from a pouch on the saddle, and then slapped into his mouth. It took a moment for Mac to feel the bit settle, and he fumed slightly as he was forced to clamp down on the instrument just so he could talk around it. Fortunately, the long mouths of ponies allowed them to have such a device in and still not interfere with their speech. “Oh ya ain't really plannin' on doin' this, are ya?” he asked, as the unicorn magically lifted the reins attached to the bit and wrapped her forehooves in them.
“I need to, as part of my studies,” Lyra earnestly answered. “Have you ever heard of humans?” she asked, her eyes growing wide at the mention of the bipedal species.
Big Macintosh snorted. “Them foal's tales? Big ol' hairless apes from space or underground or somethin'?” he asked, derisively. “All I knows 'bout them is what them fellers on late night radio blab about when they ain't talkin' how th' ice is creeping south and we're all gonna freeze or th' diamond dogs have hidden weapons factories and nonsense like that.”
For once, the mare reared back slightly in offense. “They're not foal's tales! There's plenty of archaeological and photographic evidence from over the years, and even eyewitness accounts!”
“Buncha drunk hicks in the sticks,” Big Macintosh muttered. “And that means somethin' comin' from me, lady. Th' Apples ain't the only clan that farms, and we know a few of th' others. Trust me in that a lot o' them 'eyewitnesses' ain't exactly reliable.”
“Nevertheless,” Lyra replied, with a wave of a rein-encircled foreleg. “There are plenty of witnesses who were quite upstanding. Granted, the most credible accounts were from three generations ago or more, but there's still plenty of ancient literature on the subject.”
“Uh-huh,” Macintosh said, and then turned away and started to walk.
“Now this is what I'm talking about!” Lyra spoke up from behind Mac's head. “See, the old legends say that in the Dreamtime, humans were the only ones that talked and they rode on the backs of primitive pony ancestors called 'horses.'”
“Uh-huh,” Mac repeated, as he turned to head along the path back for the family house and main barn.
“So I thought that was odd, you know? Kind of like those rocks back there,” Lyra continued, seemingly oblivious to Macintosh's irritation and indifference. “Why would they ride another creature? I mean, sure, we have pegasus-pulled chariots and wagons and stuff, but that's only because they can fly, unlike unicorn and earth ponies. But the literature said that ancient horses were land-based like humans.”
“So?” Mac asked, as the path leveled off and he caught a glimpse of the Apple family house through the trees.
“So, why do it if you don't need a special form of movement?” Lyra exasperatingly asked, as if the question was patently obvious. “The old stories don't say exactly why, other than humans liked having horses carry them and their stuff into battle and on travels and stuff like that.
“And then I thought, 'hey Lyra, why don't you just try it out for yourself?'” the unicorn added, her tone changing back to its usual, cheerful nature.
“If that's the case,” Big Macintosh drawled as he started to clear the last trees. “Why didn't ya just ask around fer a volunteer instead of jumpin' on me?”
Lyra shrugged at that. Although Mac couldn't see it, he did feel the way her body shifted on his back. “Those old stories also say how much bigger horses are,” she explained. “Humans are already twice our height, and horses are supposed to be even taller and much larger than humans. The art in the old books shows the size relationship pretty well, and I figured if I wanted to really understand why humans did what they did then I'd have to mimic them as much as possible, right down to riding on the back of a pony that makes most ponies look small.”
“And since Ah'm the biggest pony 'round Ponyville, ya came ta me,” Big Mac said, not even bothering to pitch it as a question. He then glanced back at the pony on his back and saw Lyra nod her head up and down excitedly.
“You get it!” the unicorn mare said with considerable enthusiasm, as Mac turned his head forward again. “I have to recreate that same experience to see why humans considered horses so valuable, and maybe why they eventually elevated us into full thinking beings.”
Macintosh rolled his eyes at that, but decided not to argue the beliefs of a madmare. “So why didn't ya ask me first?” he grumbled out in a tone that bespoke of his irritation with the situation.
A moment of silence met that question as Macintosh came up behind his family's house and then started to walk around it. Soon enough, however, he felt Lyra shift forward and rest her forelegs on the back of his neck. He felt a light touch of breath on his mane, and so tilted his head back a bit to make eye contact with the unicorn, who returned the look with unflinching nonchalance. “Because you would've said no,” she said, matter-of-factly.
The earth pony felt his left eye twitch at that, and he just lowered his head back down so he could see where he was going. “So ya figured assaultin' me was acceptable?” he asked, as he felt Lyra shift back into her odd sitting position.
“Assault is such a harsh and ugly word,” the mare replied. “I prefer to think of it as 'proactive experimentation'.”
Once again Mac rolled his eyes, though this time it was quick as he spotted the pony he'd come looking for. “Applejack!” he called out to the pony loading the market cart near the family barn, and then broke out into a trot.
His sister looked up with neutral look on her face, though that soon changed to one of shock. “Mac,” Applejack slowly said, as he came close and stopped. “It's nice ya got a marefiend, but Ah really don't think ya oughta be doin' that sort of thing where Applebloom could see.”
Macintosh blushed furiously at that, even as he heard Lyra chuckle on his back. “She ain't mah marefriend,” he said, as quickly as he could force the words through clenched teeth. “Ah was doin' mah inspection rounds when she comes up and puts a saddle on me an' hops on.”
A moment of silence met his statement, as Applejack gave her brother an incredulous look. “An' ya just let her?” she asked, tone matching her expression.
“I kinda distracted him,” Lyra interjected from her perch. “See, there's this storytelling technique called—”
“Ah don't care,” Applejack interrupted, with a wave of a foreleg. “Alright, so that's what happened. Fine,” she said, although one could tell from her voice she didn't find it acceptable at all. “What Ah want to know is what the hay are y'all doin' here then?”
“Ain't it obvious?” Big Mac asked, exasperated. “Ah want ya ta git this crazy mare offa mah back.”
Despite the situation, Applejack chuckled a bit at that, which only garnered a terrible glare from her brother. “Sorry,” she apologized sheepishly, though soon her expression turned steadfast. “Okay, uh, have ya tried askin' her yet?”
“He has,” Lyra added, as she leaned forward again on Macintosh's back. This time she placed the elbow of her left foreleg on top of the stallion's head and just leaned on it a bit, much to Mac's vexation. “But I still need to finish my study! Besides, it's not like I'm that fat or anything.”
“If I said ya were, would ya git off?” Macintosh snarked.
“Big Macintosh, that ain't a nice thing ta say 'bout a lady,” Applejack replied, looking slightly scandalized.
“This ain't no lady, AJ,” Macintosh retorted.
A chuckle came from the unicorn as she shifted back in the saddle, dismissing Mac's hope that his precision insult would work. “You two are pretty funny,” Lyra said, so cheerily that Macintosh could see her inane grin in his mind's eye. “But don't you have like, farm work to do?”
Both earth ponies turned their heads to give the unicorn two different degrees of skunk eye before they returned their attention to each other, and Applejack sighed. “Alright, Ah see yer point. Ah'll go get the rope,” she said, and then turned to head into the barn.
“Rope?” Lyra asked, and something in her voice finally shifted to tell of her recognition. “Aw, come on. I'm not that hard to haul around, am I?” she asked, sounding surprised.
Once again Big Mac turned his head to give her a hard look. “It ain't that Ah can't carry ya,” he said, as evenly as he could. “It's just ya ain't supposed ta go 'round slappin' saddles on ponies and ridin' 'em without permission first. It's just plain rude.”
Lyra's smile faded out, and was replaced by a pout. “But, it's for science,” she protested.
“Ah don't care,” Macintosh replied. “Ah've got work ta do today, and Ah don't need ta endure this sort of treatment while Ah'm doin' it.”
“But, science!” Lyra reiterated, even as she quivered her lips.
“That ain't a good excuse!” Big Mac retorted.
Lyra crossed both of her forelegs over her chest. “Twilight Sparkle uses it all the time.”
“That's 'cuz Twilight Sparkle is—” Mac bit off his heated reply, as just then his sister re-emerged from the barn with a length of rope coiled on her back. A dark and unfriendly look was on her face, and she tilted her head down a bit to give Macintosh a glare.
“What's that 'bout Twilight?” Applejack asked, in a tone that every male instinctually understood as a dire threat to life and limb.
“Uh, nuttin',” Mac uttered, even as he took a step back.
Applejack, however, took a step forward and continued to stare into her brother's eyes. “No no, Ah wanna hear it,” she menacingly said. “If ya got somethin' ta say 'bout one of mah very good friends, Ah want ta know.”
Cold sweat broke out on Macintosh's head, and he gave a crooked and unconvincing smile. “Uh, Ah was just sayin' what a nice an' smart lady she is,” he replied.
“Uh-huh,” Applejack replied, unconvinced. “Then why are ya getting all nervous and such?” she pressed, taking another step forward as Mac once again stepped back.
“Well, it ain't anythin' important,” Macintosh began, and then continued to speak before he could think better of it. “Jus', she's kinda on the crazy side at times, don't ya think? Her paranoia ev'ry time th' princess visits, th' time she made the whole country freak out by travelin' through time with some mysterious warnin', an' Ah don't even want ta mention th' riot she started with Miss Smarty Pants.”
“Miss what now?” Applejack asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“Uh, nothing,” Macintosh answered, shifting his eyes side to side. He noted that Applejack saw through the obvious lie, and in his growing panic blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Just sayin', Twilight's a nice filly an' all, an' I like her as a pony. But Ah swear she's got a stick up her backside longer than Celestia's horn, an' she just really needs to relax.”
Scarcely had he finished speaking than Macintosh realized this was entirely the wrong thing to say. Applejack's eyes widened a bit, and then narrowed into dark slits that threatened malice the likes of which only siblings could inflict on one another. Crud, Ah'm in fer it now, Mac thought as his sister opened her mouth to verbally vivisect the stallion.
Before a word could be uttered, however, a light green glow enveloped Applejack's hat, and then yanked it down on her head until it was wedged tight against her skull and stuck over her eyes. “What the consarned son of a cockatrice!” the orange mare shouted in surprise and anger.
Macintosh stared in surprise for a moment before he felt Lyra shift on his back. “Dude,” she whispered into his ear. “Run.”
“What?” Mac asked, befuddled. Part of him realized the trouble he was in, though, and he turned his head around automatically to look for a way out.
A sigh came from behind, and soon enough Macintosh felt his head guided to the right by the bit in his mouth, towards the path that would lead off the farm and towards Ponyville. “Hi-ho Macintosh, away!” Lyra shouted, and then kicked back with her hind legs to smack her hooves into Mac's flanks.
The action spurred something deep within the stallion, and he bolted off in the direction his head had been pointed. So fast was his movement that he was already past the gate at the edge of the Apple family property before his mind kicked in again. Wait a minute, what the hay am Ah doing? he wondered. Am Ah really gonna listen to the weird mare that started this whole mess in the first place? Ah should just go back and apologize—
“Git back here you lichen-eatin' varmints!” The enraged bellow of his sister blasted into his ears just then, and Macintosh shuddered as all thoughts of turning around disappeared.
“Geeze, she sounds like she could give Princess Luna lessons in shouting,” Lyra wryly observed, albeit strangely out of breath despite the fact she was the one doing the riding.
“Eeyup,” Mac replied, but otherwise said nothing as he concentrated on putting as much distance between himself and his sister as equinely possible.
* * * *
The path to Ponyville had never seemed so short to Macintosh in all his life as his panicked strides ate up the distance. As he closed in on the first outlying houses, however, he felt a tug on the bit in his mouth that tilted his head back slightly. He understood the unspoken command immediately and slowed down, and Lyra let up on the reins as he did. “I think I'm starting to understand the whole horse-riding thing,” she observed, slightly out of breath.
“So... glad... could... help,” Macintosh replied, fitting his words in between deep pants as he sought to catch his own breath.
“Really?” Lyra asked, cheerfully.
Macintosh slowed to a stop and then turned his head to reward her happy look with a sardonic one. “No, that was sarcasm,” he said, as evenly as he could. “Frankly, Ah'm not glad at all about this day since you showed up.”
“That's not being very friendly to the mare who saved you from your sister's wrath,” Lyra replied, her grin shifting into a sly smirk.
Macintosh's eye twitched at that, and he took in a deep, calming breath before he responded. “It wouldn't ever have happened if'n ya hadn't come out and slapped a saddle on me. So Ah say the responsibility is still on yer withers.”
The smirk faded from the unicorn's face for a moment, but was soon replaced with her usual grin. “Ah, that's okay, I'm used to taking the blame,” she easily said. “I mean, you should have seen the stuff I did in Canterlot,” she added, and then looked off to the side and dropped her smile. “I'm, ah, still kinda not allowed back there except for special occasions.”
“Gee, can't understand why,” Mac wryly observed. “Now, if'n yer done with this crazy plan of yours—”
“Oh, not yet!” Lyra said, once again interrupting Macintosh as she turned to face him, her grin back in place. “We did the regular walk, a brief canter, and then a mad dash. We should totally try out a paced gallop now!”
“No, we ain't,” Macintosh replied, his vexation once again filling his voice with emotion. “You are gonna git offa me, and Ah'm gonna—”
“Go back to your PMSing sister and have her tear you a new plot hole?” Lyra snarkily asked.
Macintosh winced fiercely at that, and then tensed up and looked around. “Sweet mother of God, watch where ya say that sort of thing!” he said, with a slight twinge of panic. “It's bad 'nuff Ah ticked off AJ, but Ah don't need no angry mares screamin' their heads off at me for ya even suggestin' that!”
“Who's suggesting?” Lyra asked, and then shrugged when Mac turned his head back to eye her again. “Everypony in town pretty much knows her cycle from the way she acts when she comes to sell apples in the market. We all know there are some days you just do not try to haggle with her, period.”
A few moments of dead silence passed between the two ponies. Soon enough, however, Lyra blinked and then blushed as she realized what she had said.
Despite the situation and himself, Macintosh couldn't help the sudden chortle that came from his mouth. He desperately clamped his jaw shut and pulled his lips as taut as they would go, but the choked noises of amusement left his muzzle anyway.
Unfortunately for his composure, however, Lyra started to laugh raucously, and the mare's musical laughter proved far too infectious. Soon both ponies were laughing hard, and Big Mac had to fight his own body to stay standing up as he guffawed. Fortunately, the humor passed relatively quickly, and Mac brought up a hoof to wipe at the tears bunched up in his eyes. “That was absolutely terrible,” he said.
“I swear, I didn't even realize it until I already said it,” Lyra replied, and then chuckled briefly. “But yeah, it was pretty bad. I'll add it to the list of things I'm going to Hell for.”
“Goin' where?” Macintosh asked, unfamiliar with the word.
Lyra shrugged. “Eh, something else I got from a book about humans,” she said. “Not important now. Right now we should get moving.”
The merriment in Macintosh's mind faded at that as his irritation returned, though after having shared a laugh he felt less cross at the unicorn. “Look, miss Heartstrings, even if Ah didn't have a lot of work ta do back on th' farm, Ah still wouldn't want to have anything ta do with this humiliatin' experience,” he explained as patiently as he could.
“What's so humiliating about it?” Lyra asked, and Macintosh blinked as she seemed genuinely confused. “Lots of ponies wear saddles. Haystacks, I got this one from a government sale; they were replacing old rescue saddles and I got this on the cheap.”
Macintosh sighed at that, and then turned his head around so he could peer over his left shoulder—instead of the right he usually preferred—to keep his neck from cramping up. “Th' problem is that as ya said, they're rescue saddles for injured ponies and all. A perfectly fine pony ridin' another just seems unnatural and pre-verted.
“And as fer them other pony saddles, most of 'em are fancy stuff fer fillies and mares,” Mac added, and then paused to think about his next words. “It just feels humiliatin' to a stallion like me,” he added with a blush.
Lyra seemed to think about what he said for a few quiet moments, and Macintosh had a brief flowering of hope that the crazy mare would finally see his point. It was thus disappointing to him when she waved a foreleg and shook her head. “Nah, I don't see it,” she said, and then gave Macintosh an openly admiring stare. “You're 'Big' Macintosh Apple, the biggest pony in Ponyville, and the town's most eligible bachelor,” she began, her words making the stallion blush. “You positively ooze masculinity, so much so that I think the reason the town has so many mares is because they all unconsciously gravitate towards the singularity of stallionness that you represent. If anypony thinks you wearing a saddle makes you any less a stallion then they really ought to see the royal guardsponies' armor, because they have saddles built right into it.”
Macintosh blinked through the searing blush on his face, and he tilted his head up at the mare on his back. “Really?” He asked.
“Yeah!” Lyra replied, surprised. “You never see them when they come to town while the princesses are visiting?”
“Uh, no,” Mac said, and then turned his head back forward and lowered it a bit to look at the ground. “I, ah, kinda don't get off th' farm all that much.”
“Well, consider this an adventure, then!” Lyra cheerily said, and Mac glanced back at her again as she continued. “You obviously can't go back to the farm today, at least not until Applejack cools down a bit. You don't exactly have anything else to do, do you?”
“Well, no,” Macintosh admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “But Ah can't just go shirkin' my chores just 'cuz AJ's a bit out of sorts.”
“Macintosh Apple!” The shout came from back along the road, and both ponies jumped as they recognized Applejack's voice. Lyra and Mac both turned their heads to see his sister a good distance back, head lowered and breathing heavily. “You an' that toothpaste-colored weirdo better git back here or Celestia help me, Ah'll buck ya both into th' next county!”
“On the other hoof,” Macintosh added, as fear filled his heart and his kidneys ached with the release of adrenalin. “Mebbie we should give that gallopin' thing a try after all.”
“Come on!” Lyra exclaimed, even as she steered Mac's head back around towards Ponyville's outer environs, and then kicked his flanks to get the stallion moving. “I think I know a way to lose her!”
* * * *
Twilight Sparkle smiled as a friend sat down opposite of her at one of the Clover Café's outdoor tables. “Rarity, I'm so glad you could come!” the purple unicorn said by way of greeting.
“Well of course, darling,” the seamstress replied, while she shifted to get comfortable. “You know I do so enjoy having tea with you,” Rarity added, and then used a foreleg to pat at her curled coif. “And it's always nice to get outside once in a while and away from my work for some relaxation.”
Twilight nodded in agreement. “Even I have to admit I need to get away from books now and then,” she said, and then picked up the café's menu with her magic. “I hope you don't mind, though, that I ordered some soup while I was waiting; I skipped breakfast today.”
“Of course not, dear,” Rarity replied, as she too used her magic to lift up and open the menu. “But should you be skipping meals like that?” she asked, with a glance to the mare across from her. “It can't be healthy for you.”
“Well, no,” Twilight said, with a hitch in her voice that she tried to hide by burying her muzzle in the menu. “I've just been... busy.”
The white unicorn was not oblivious, and so set the menu down on the table just hard enough to make a noise that garnered Twilight's attention. “Twilight, please don't do the innocent 'nothing's wrong' act,” Rarity said, in a patient tone. “If something is bothering you, please let it out; I might be able to help.”
Sparkle hesitated as she ran through several lines of thought in her head about the upcoming conversation. Soon enough, however, she took in a deep breath and forced such ideas aside. Come on, Twilight, your friends will be there for you, she reminded herself, even as she set her menu down to give Rarity her full attention. “Well, something has been worrying me, but I'm not sure if it's something I'm not just blowing out of proportion,” she explained.
“Well, tell me about it,” Rarity said, as she folded her forelegs demurely across her chest.
“It's just that—” Twilight said, and then interrupted herself as the waiter brought her soup bowl out and placed it on the table. “Oh, thank you, sir.”
“No problem, madam,” the earth pony replied once he had released the bowl from his mouth. “Will that be all?”
“Actually,” Rarity said, speaking before Twilight could reply. “We would like a small tea service. Haylon Special Blend, and some hoof sandwiches.”
The waiter raised an eyebrow at that, and then looked to Twilight. She smiled faintly and nodded. “If you wouldn't mind?” Twilight asked.
“Of course, madams,” the brown pony graciously replied. “I'll go put that order in for you,” he said, and then quickly bent down to collect both menus with his mouth before he turned to trot away.
“Now that's out of the way, would you like to continue dear?” Rarity asked as soon as she and Twilight were alone.
Twilight smiled a silent thanks to her friend, and then began to speak. “It's just, I'm starting to worry that living in Ponyville might be... having an unusual effect on me.”
“Oh?” Rarity asked, when Twilight paused to magically lift a spoon from the table and used it to try her soup. “Whatever do you mean by that, darling?”
Twilight didn't reply right away, as she felt the need to quiet her belly with a few more spoonfuls of the Prench onion soup first. “I—I don't know, it sounds silly, even to me.”
“Twilight Sparkle,” Rarity said, with a measured bit of force in her tone. “I assure you that anything that worries a friend of mine isn't silly,” she said with a nod.
Again, Twilight smiled at her friend, though it was much shorter lived. “I'm just concerned. Since I've moved here, I've—well, we've all had a lot of unusual things happen to us and the town,” the purple mare explained. “It's almost like the day I came to Ponyville was a signal for insanity to enter my life. And it worries me that I seem to be the only pony who notices it at times.”
Rarity simply looked at her friend in silence for a few moments, and then shook her head briefly. “I'm not quite sure it's that bad, dear,” she said, evenly. “Ponyville just has always had a bit more than its fair share of small town quirks. And to be fair, I think it's only because you're so attentive to everything that you notice it more than the rest of us,” she added, and then smiled. “That just shows how intelligent you are that you pay attention more.”
“Thanks,” Twilight replied, with another brief smile. “But I can't help but feel anxious about it all. Because a lot of strange things keep happening here, and what worries me the most is that I'm starting to get used to it,” she added, with a shudder. “I'm afraid that eventually, something completely ridiculous is going to happen and I won't even bat an eye.”
“Oh, I wouldn't worry about it, Twilight,” Rarity replied. “I'm sure you have nothing to be concerned about.”
The thunder of heavy hooves preempted any reply Twilight might have made, and both unicorns turned see a blur of red and mint green barreling towards the café's outdoor seating. “Through there, it's a shortcut!” came a feminine voice from the blur, before it leaped over the hedge lining the eatery's dining area and then started to smash aside tables. Soon enough it slammed straight into and through the table Rarity and Twilight were sitting at, sending the purple mare's soup bowl flying, and then continued through the rest of the seating before jumping over the far hedge.
Both unicorns simply stared in stunned silence at the empty space that once held their table. It didn't last long, however, as the soup bowl came down from its ballistic arc and drizzled its contents over Twilight and Rarity before it crashed into the ground.
Before either of them could speak another blur, this one orange, blasted through the hedge instead of jumping it and proceeded to follow the path the first shape had taken. “I'm gonna rip that green horn of yours right off yer head!” the blur shouted with Applejack's voice, as it passed the unicorns and then bashed through the second hedge, clearly in pursuit of the first offender.
The two friends sat there for a few long, silent moments as they absorbed what had just occurred and watched green leaves from the hedges settle onto their sticky coats. Then finally, Rarity sighed. “Is it Saturday already?” she tiredly asked.
“Eeyup,” Twilight replied, in a defeated tone. “So, to the spa?”
“The spa,” Rarity agreed.
* * * *
“Wow!” Lyra exclaimed, as Macintosh continued running through the streets of Ponyville. “You just plowed through those tables like a bulldozer! Didn't it hurt?” she asked, glancing down to the back of the red stallion's head.
“Yup,” Mac replied, shortening his usual drawl. “Where's... AJ?” he squeezed out between breaths.
Lyra glanced back, and winced as she saw the orange mare keeping up with them. “Still there,” she answered her ride, and then turned around again to concentrate on the path ahead. “Can't you go any faster?”
“Ah'm... a workhorse...” Big Mac huffed. “Not a... racer.”
“Okay,” Lyra said, as the wheels in her head turned. “We can use that, we can use that...” she muttered, as she scanned the street ahead. Ponies were stopping to stare at the unusual spectacle everywhere she looked, but the unicorn was used to being the focus of such gazes and so she ignored them. Suddenly, an idea entered her head, and she grinned again as she pulled on Mac's reins. “I know what to do, just follow my lead!” she said.
“Don't have much choice!” Mac replied as he turned to follow the pull on his head. For a moment, he wished he hadn't, as he saw the town market dead ahead. He gulped between breaths. “Lyra?” he asked, unsure.
“Just trust me,” she replied. “And lean when I lean,” she added, and then gave the stallion another light kick to the haunches to spur a bit more speed from him.
Macintosh reluctantly complied, even as the crowded mass of stalls and ponies loomed in his vision. Sweet heavens, how am Ah supposed ta figure a way through that goin' this fast? he wondered, as the edge of the coagulated market grew close. Maybe if Ah turn a bit to th' left Ah can slip 'tween those two stalls...
His planning was interrupted as Lyra tugged the reins to the left, and then leaned that way as well. Seeing she had come to the same conclusion as him, Mac had no trouble following the silent commands and quickly turned and leaned enough so that he blasted through the empty space between two vendors selling assorted knick-knacks and cookware.
Even as he passed through them, however, he realized that there was a small cluster of ponies standing in the way that he hadn't been able to see thanks to the stalls. Yet even as he registered their presence, Lyra leaned and pulled on the reins again to bring Macintosh to the right, just behind the last mare in the group. He felt the brush of a tail on his chest for a brief moment, and then heard an instinctual shriek of fright behind him as the oblivious ponies were left in his figurative dust.
Lyra again gave him tugs and leans, and Macintosh decided to silently trust her for a change. Under her guidance he maneuvered through the marketplace with more deftness than he would have expected a stallion his size at full gallop could do. Shouts of panic and shock erupted all around them, but save for an occasional brush against a mane or tail, the stallion felt no collision at all.
The same could not be said for his sister, he realized, as he heard the occasional crash, angry shouts, and hurried apologies from her pursuit fall further and further behind. Macintosh spared a brief prayer of thanks before Lyra jerked the reins and leaned crazily to the left. He reacted instantly and the directed turn without even looking, though he regretted that a second later as he saw himself heading straight for the river that flowed through town. “What the—” he uttered, even as he began to slow down.
A snap of the reins caught his attention. “Keep going! Applejack's too far behind to see us now!” she replied to the half-asked question. “Head for the bridge!”
Macintosh blinked as she mentioned the bridge, and the stallion finally realized that he had indeed been directed towards the span. He quickly put back on the speed he had dropped, and the considerable distance virtually dissolved in seconds.
Just before he reached the bridge, however, he felt a hard tug on the bit in his mouth that yanked his head up and back. Unable to see, Macintosh stopped moving as quickly as he could and even reared back on his hind legs to use the shift of his weight to help sap his momentum. As soon as he could feel his forward movement stop, however, Mac dropped back to all fours, and then snapped his head back to glare at Lyra. “What the drack-licking—”
“Under!” the mare interrupted, a mixed look of excitement and fear in her eyes. “Under the bridge, before she catches up!”
Mac caught on immediately, and he quickly moved to the side of the bridge to follow the narrow hoofpath worn there by generations of inspectors and foals alike. Now this takes me back, Macintosh briefly mused, as he turned to slip under the arching stonework and stepped onto the small ledge formed by one of the bridge's anchors.
He felt Lyra shift and then drape herself over his back and neck. “Man, you really are tall,” she muttered, even as the pressed herself down to avoid hitting her head on the construct.
“It's yer own dang fault,” Mac retorted, as he caught his breath. Any further discussion, though, was cut off as the two ponies heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching, and they both tensed up and held still. The sound slowed, and eventually changed tone as the approaching pony crossed onto the bridge, and then stopped.
“Consarned root-munching no-good blockheads,” Applejack's voice sounded from above. “Gonna waste a whole day lookin' for 'em. Darn you, Macintosh, ya just had ta go badmouth mah friend, didn't ya?” she grumbled, and then sighed. “Stupid waste of mah time, Ah swear,” she added, and then continued to mutter as she resumed walking. Soon enough Applejack was across the bridge, and the sound of her steps gradually faded into the distance.
Macintosh released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and then took a few more deep breaths besides to make up for the deficit. “Sweet heavens, that was close,” he quietly said, still fearful that his sister might hear him.
“Yeah,” Lyra readily agreed. A moment of silence passed between them before she spoke again. “Hey, we don't have to worry about C.H.U.D.s under here, right?”
Macintosh turned his head back just enough to give the unicorn a hard look from the corner of his eye. Despite the angle, it proved quite effective, and Lyra fidgeted slightly under his gaze. “Seriously?” he asked, incredulous. “You listen to them conspiracy nuts on th' radio way too much,” he added, before turning his head around so he could start moving out from under the bridge.
“Seems I'm not the only one,” Lyra replied, with a hint of mischief in her voice. “Or how else would you know what I'm talking about?”
The stallion hesitated in his movement at that, and then sighed as he resumed walking. “Sometimes Ah can't get to sleep at night,” he began, as the two emerged into the sunlight again. “Either it's seasonal farm work that needs ta git done, or sometimes Ah get insomnia.” Macintosh paused in his speech at that as a brief wave of embarrassment rolled over him. “And that show full of idjits is th' only thing on at night.”
“They're not idiots,” Lyra heatedly retorted, as Mac carried her back onto the shore. “Well, not all of them, anyway,” she added, after a moment's hesitation to think. “That one guy they had on once who said Changelings used to be Flutterponies was kinda nuts.”
Macintosh chuckled briefly at that. “Sounds like it,” he agreed, as he brought himself to a stop on the riverbank. “Now, if Ah could change the subject,” he continued, with a hard glance back. “Ah would appreciate it if'n ya got offa mah back now.”
The typical smile on Lyra's face quickly gave way to a pout. “Aw, after all we've been through, you're still upset about that?”
“Eeyup,” Mac deadpanned.
“But don't you want to see this all the way to its end?” Lyra asked, pleadingly.
“See what?” Macintosh demanded.
“My experiment!” Lyra exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I've already had so many wonderful insights! I'm really starting to understand the ancient humans more and more, especially why they felt such attachment to the animals under their care.”
Mac fiercely grumbled at that. “Ah'm so glad Ah rate so highly,” he said, sardonically.
Lyra frowned down at him. “I didn't mean it that way,” she said, apologetically. “I just meant that I'm starting to understand the special relationship humans developed with our horse ancestors. Why they genuinely cherished them and took care of them,” she explained patiently.
“Good fer you,” Mac replied. “Now git down.”
“Didn't you feel it back there?” Lyra pressed, seemingly ignorant of the stallion's demand. “The way we worked together, just by touch alone?” Her voice became excited as her eyes shifted to focus on something only she could see. “It was just like the books said, the way the rider and the mount start to work and move as one, so that both can trust in the other and perform better than either could alone.”
Macintosh blinked at that, and then sighed briefly after thinking over the unicorn's words. “Ah can see what you mean,” he begrudgingly allowed. “And Ah admit, it was a bit exhilaratin' ta just concentrate on doin' th' physical work without thinkin' 'bout it,” he added, and himself let his eyes unfocus as he concentrated on a memory. “Sorta like in th' middle of applebuckin' season, when ya just kinda shut yer mind down and let yer body do all th' stuff it's done before.”
“Exactly,” Lyra said, as Mac brought his attention back to the here and now and the mare on his back. “And for me, it was amazing, being able to direct something—er, somepony with so much raw power.” She haltered a bit at the wrong pronoun and blushed, but continued to speak. “I could look around, take stock of the situation without having to watch my every step because I knew you were concentrating on the physical side. I could see the crowds and stalls and plan every...”
Her voice trailed off at that, and Macintosh give the minty pony another look. “Lyra?” he asked.
“Do you hear something?” the mare asked back. Mac's ears twitched even as she spoke, and he heard the faint whistling noise just before a loop of rope fell over Lyra. “Uh-oh,” she said.
“Git over here!” Applejack shouted, as the lasso was pulled taut and yanked the unicorn off of Macintosh's back. A yelp and a thump sounded from behind him split second later.
Mac spun on his hooves as fast as he could, and was just in time to see Lyra lying on her side on the ground, her forelegs pinned to her sides. The rope that held her snaked along the ground and out up to the peak of the arched bridge, where even now Applejack was tromping forward at a brisk pace. “Ah'm sick an' tired of these here games,” his sister decreed, as she reached where Lyra was struggling to stand on her hind legs. “Now are you two gonna... ah...” Applejack sputtered, as the unicorn finally managed to stand upright, despite the fact her forelegs were still bound, and also that she was a quadruped. “What the hay?”
“Hah, you thought you could defeat Lyra Heartstrings, gentlemare adventurer!” Lyra exclaimed, as she huffed for breath.
“Gentle?” Macintosh bemusedly muttered.
“But there isn't a pony born who could keep me from my mission!” Lyra continued. “I shall not be stopped from obtaining the truth, even by a xenophobic element bearer!”
“Hey now,” Applejack said, as she stepped up to Lyra, and then attempted to shove her muzzle into the other pony's face. Lyra remained on her hind legs, however, and so the orange pony had to settle for giving her the skunk eye up close. “Ah don't know what that thar word means, but it sounded like an insult, so ya better take it back 'fore I hafta 'splain things to ya.”
“Whoa there, Applejack,” Macintosh said, as he stepped forward to stretch a foreleg betwixt the pair of antagonistic mares. “Ah don't think she meant anythin' by it, she's just one o' them Canterlot ponies, yanno? Full of big words and such.”
“Like Twilight?” Applejack said, as she tilted her head to the side so she could share the evil look on her face with her brother. “Don't ya think Ah forgot 'bout that, either.”
Mac shuddered at both the look and the tone of dire portent in his sister's voice, and he nervously took a step back. “Now AJ, you know Ah didn't mean anythin' by it,” he protested. “You know Ah like all of yer friends.”
“If ya didn't mean it, why'd ya say it then?” Applejack demanded, as she turned to face her brother fully.
“Because out of all the ponies in this town, Ah'd thought you'd be th' one to appreciate a good bit of honesty!” Macintosh replied, finally becoming exasperated.
That statement seemed to hit home, and Applejack's hostile tone seemed to evaporate. “Well... Ah guess Ah might've over-reacted a mite,” she allowed, though some of her anger bled back. “But ya didn't need ta say it quite like that!”
“Mebbie not,” Macintosh admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “But ya didn't need to react quite like that, either.”
“Ah guess,” Applejack replied, her anger starting to drain away.
This was, of course, when Lyra—having freed herself from the rope while the conversation had bypassed her—walked up on all fours and then proceeded to stand next to Applejack before she wrapped a foreleg over the farmer's withers. “Don't worry about it, Applejack,” the unicorn friendlily said. “Nopony blames you; all us mares get kinda kooky that time of the month.”
Oh, sweet Celestia, Macintosh thought, as he saw the anger fill his sister's eyes. In a flash the farmer turned and then reached up with a foreleg and used it to clutch the unicorn's throat.
“What did you say?” Applejack asked, her voice low yet filled with malice, even as Lyra's face started to change color into a more bluish tone.
“Applejack!” a new voice intruded upon the trio near the bridge, and they all turned to look towards the sound in surprise. As they did, they noticed that their argument had apparently attracted a crowd of townsponies, who stood around them in a wide circle. Various looks of surprise, shock, and indignation and anger in the case of a few stall owners all met their gaze, though soon enough two ponies in particular caught their attention as they separated from the group. “You need to take your hoof off of miss Hearstrings' neck right now, young lady,” the earth pony in the lead sternly said, his voice accented like the Apples', only lighter.
Applejack blinked at that, and then snapped her hoof away from the unicorn's neck. “Sorry, sheriff,” she said as the khaki-colored pony drew near.
“Are ya?” the stallion asked, as he gave the mare a look. “I knew your parents, AJ. Do ya really think they would approve of this sort of thing?” he asked, as Applejack blushed and lowered her head to look at the ground. “Chasin' ponies through the streets, bashing through stalls, assault and battery on another pony who was only tryin' to be friendly.” The stallion shook his head. “I know they didn't teach you that.”
“No sir,” Applejack replied, her voice as downcast as her eyes.
“And you, miss Heartstrings,” the sheriff continued, as he shifted to the unicorn who was still trying to catch her breath. “This is the third time in a month I find you at the center of a big ol' problem,” he added, his face becoming stern. “When I got that letter from the Canterlot Constabulary, I was a bit surprised at the warning they gave me. Now I'm starting to wonder if they weren't right to send it.”
“I—I'm sorry, sheriff Tailor,” Lyra said, her dejected tone matching Applejack's easily as her ears folded back. “I... it was just—”
“A misunderstandin',” Macintosh interrupted, garnering the attention the the four other ponies near him. “Miss Heartstrings was... a bit overenthusiastic,” he said, as he unconsciously chewed at the bit in his mouth for a moment. “A few heated words were exchanged, but nuttin' worth takin' to th' judge over.”
“Hmm,” sheriff Tailor hummed, as he mulled over the situation. The three ponies involved all looked up at him—or down in Macintosh's case—and waited as he thought. Finally, he sighed, and then nodded. “Alright, I suppose I ain't gonna arrest anypony today,” he said, garnering sighs of relief from the two farmers and the unicorn. “But something is gonna have to be done about the property damage y'all caused.”
“We'll pay for it,” Lyra suggested.
“We'll fix it up,” Applejack countered, a bit of a challenge in her voice as she glanced at the unicorn.
“We'll do both,” Macintosh added, lightly stomping a hoof to emphasize his point. “We'll fix what we can, and split th' costs on replacin' th' rest,” he said, and then gave a look to the two mares involved. After a moment, they nodded and murmured their agreement.
“Well, okay then,” the sheriff said, a faint, warm smile finally running along his muzzle. “We'll help y'all get started on that,” he added, and then turned to the lanky pegasus at his side. “Deputy Barn Stormer?”
“Yes, sheriff?” the off-white stallion asked, his nasally voice filled with eagerness.
“Get started on the crowd, tell 'em to move along 'less they got somethin' broken,” Artful Tailor explained. “Them ponies who got issue, you send them to me and we'll sort this all out.”
“You got it, Arty!” the pegasus replied with a salute, and then took off into the air. “Alright, everypony! Nothing to see here!” he exclaimed as he flew over to the crowd and started circling around the inner border of it. “Move along, move along! If you got something broken, go see the sheriff, but if you just want to cause a problem, I'm gonna nip it in the bud! Nip, it, in, the, bud!”
Tailor smirked at his enthusiastic deputy, and then turned back to the three ponies in question. “Now, y'all just sit here and we'll get this all straightened out,” Tailor said. Then he hesitated, and gave Mac another look. “Actually, Macintosh,” he added. “You might want to go take off that getup; you look ridiculous.”
Macintosh sighed at that. "Eeyup."
* * * *
A warm breeze blew through the northern orchard, carrying with it the cloying smell of apple blossoms.
Macintosh sighed with palpable relief as he trod along the path between trees, pausing to inspect each one. Finally, back to normal, he thought, as he looked at yet another gala tree and found it healthy and hale. It had been two days since the “incident”, as it was being referred to, and Mac grunted to himself as he thought of all the time spent fixing up broken and battered booths and furniture. Not ta mention keepin' AJ and Lyra separated, he mused. Ah swear, 'twas like herdin' cats at times.
Still, he admitted to himself. Could've been worse. Th' sheriff calmed AJ down, and Lyra's not actually that bad ta be 'round so long as she ain't excited 'bout something. He had found it hard to stay upset at the unicorn, as Lyra had worked so earnestly to fix up the problems the group had caused during their brief run through Ponyville. She even apologized to all th' folks we bothered, too, Mac remembered. An' not some forced apology because she was caught, she seemed sincere.
Seemed, the thought bounced in his head. For all you know, she could've gotten good at actin' 'cuz of all her crazy stunts. Or she's one o' them types who're so crazy they believe everythin' they say.
Mebbie, Macintosh allowed to himself. Mebbie not. Might be kind of interestin' ta find out, though.
The earth pony stopped in his tracks at that, and he stood still as he mulled over the thought. Now, where the hay did that come from? he wondered.
Mac's rumination was interrupted then, as he heard slow hoofbeats come up behind him. The stallion turned to face the newcomer, and then froze as he recognized the mare he'd been pondering on. “Miss Heartstrings,” he evenly said, and then glanced behind him.
“Heh, no tricks this time,” Lyra said, a sheepish smile on her face. “I just wanted to talk with you a bit, if that's okay?” she asked, with a light blush. “I know you might still be mad and all, so I'll just leave if you want me to. But I would like to speak about the other day, if I could?”
Macintosh raised an eyebrow at the change in the unicorn's attitude, but kept his peace for the moment. Instead, he mulled over her request as he chewed on a stalk of wheat he'd pulled from its field during his trip to the northern orchard. A practiced eye traced over Lyra's face, and in her expression and body language Mac saw uncertainty, embarrassment, and an unease that grew the longer the earth pony remained silent. Finally, he nodded to her. “Alright,” he said, and then turned around. “But ya gotta keep up with me while Ah do my monthly inspection.”
“Sure!” Lyra replied, a hint of her earlier enthusiasm and cheerfulness bouncing into her voice as she trotted up beside Macintosh, and then matched his slow, but deliberate pace. Her brief spat of energy was soon gone, however, and she returned to a more hesitant manner as the two ponies walked. “So, uh, I guess the main reason I came out here was to...” she said, trailing off at the end.
Macintosh turned his head just slightly to give her a look, and he saw the mare seemed flustered. Heavens above, seems like there's a first time fer everythin', he mused.
Again his thoughts were cut off, as Lyra resumed speaking, albeit more slowly. “I just wanted to apologize again, and tell you how sorry I really am for all that happened,” she finally said, her voice low, yet steady and unflinching. She raised her face to look the stallion in the eyes, and continued. “What I did wasn't right, and I should have realized that from the beginning. I just... let myself get carried away,” she said, and then glanced to the side.
“Appropriate choice o' words,” Macintosh observed, and then chuckled when Lyra blushed a bit. “Miss Heartstrings, Ah already accepted yer apology while we were fixin' up the damage we done.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lyra replied, and then returned her gaze to Macintosh's face. “But I figured you kinda deserved more than that. It was not only offensive, but humiliating as well, and yet through all of it you remained polite and even-hoofed.”
Macintosh blinked at that, and then came to a stop and then tilted his head to the side. “If'n Ah reacall correctly,” he began. “Ah was doin' mah best ta git you off of me by bein' rude an' hostile.”
Lyra chuckled at that, which only prompted a greater look of confusion on the stallion's face. “What's so funny?” he asked.
“This is what I'm saying,” Lyra replied, with a small but genuine smile. “You're so polite you actually think that being snarky and blunt is hostile. Not to mention I recall you threatening to buck me off, yet you never actually tried it.”
This time it was Macintosh who looked away, albeit in his typically slow and methodical manner. “Well, miss Heartstrings, when Ah was young mah pa taught me ta always be gentle with a mare,” he explained, and then turned his head back to the unicorn again. “Ah was irritated and angry, but Ah didn't want ya ta be hurt. One wrong move and ya coulda broken somethin' worse than yer pride.”
Lyra's smile faltered a bit, but soon reestablished itself. “Yeah, I know,” she said, and then sighed. “I've gotten hurt before when I was—well, when I get that way,” the unicorn added, a light blush washing over her features. “Which is another reason I wanted to come here today, to let you know how much I appreciate that.”
Macintosh waved a foreleg. “'Twern't nuttin', miss,” he replied. “Jus' doin' what's right.”
Again, the unicorn smiled. “Not everypony does that,” she said, and then let the expression drop as she lowered her head a bit. “So thank you again for that, and also for not pressing charges.” Lyra chuckled a bit at that, raising a hoof to cover her mouth as she did. “I guess I should have said thanks for that first.”
A deep chuckle rumbled back from the stallion. “Nopony was hurt in th' end, and after Ah calmed down, I could tell ya weren't bein' malicious 'bout it, really,” he explained. “You impressed me by bein' contrite afterwards and helpin' fix things.” A thought entered his mind at that, and Macintosh tilted his head a bit to give the unicorn a look. “Which seems rather at odds as ta how ya were actin' when ya snuck up on me.”
Lyra blushed deeply at that, and her expression showed her discomfort as she glanced away. “Yeah, well... that's the other reason I really wanted to apologize to you,” she said, quietly, without looking up. “I, uh... kind of have a mild case of Hypomania.”
“An' what's that?” Macintosh curiously asked, after waiting a moment to ensure that the unicorn had finished speaking.
“It's a low-grade mental disorder,” Lyra explained, as she finally and sheepishly looked up to meet Macintosh's eyes. “I'm fine most of the time, but sometimes I'll become really energetic and charged up, and a bit compulsive and prone to taking risks and gambles I wouldn't normally do.” She paused at that, and then looked to the side. “I have medication for when I feel an episode coming on, and usually I'm good about taking it. But sometimes I get into it too quickly, and by then I'm off doing something, uh...”
“Kooky?” Macintosh asked, and then smiled to show he meant no offense. The wan, yet sincere smile he got in return encouraged him. “Ya don't need ta apologize fer that, miss Heartstrings. Nopony's perfect, and a medical issue is a reasonable excuse.”
“But I don't want to make excuses,” Lyra gently protested, and then sighed. “I should've done better. Usually I rely on my friend and housemate Bon-bon to let me know when I miss the signs, but she was out, and I should have been paying more attention.” The unicorn mare looked down and scuffed a hoof on the ground. “So, I'm sorry.”
A moment of silence passed as Macintosh pondered the apology, but even in his mind there wasn't much debate. “Accepted, miss Heartstrings,” he said, with a gentle smile as the mare looked back to him. “As Ah said, ya weren't no real big trouble. An' so long as we're talkin' 'bout this thing,” he continued, his grin turning a bit sheepish. “Ah gotta admit, it was actually kind of a nice change from farm work. Ah might say it was even a bit of fun at times.”
The smile that erupted on Lyra's muzzle put a warm feeling in the stallion's chest. “Really?” she asked, sounding a bit more cheerful.
“Eeyup,” Macintosh characteristically replied. “Like Ah said back by th' bridge, while it may have been a bit embarrassin', it was also interestin'. Sorta how ya described it, both workin' together like that, it ain't somethin' I ever experienced before.” He ruefully chuckled. “Guess Ah should git off th' farm more.”
Lyra chuckled back, and then gave the stallion a sheepish look. “Well...” she began, and then paused for a moment to think. “If you want to do something new again, sometimes I go hiking through the Whitetail Woods to check out the scenes of human sightings,” she added, and then blushed. “I know you consider them hooey and all, but like the ride the other day, it might be an interesting time.”
Macintosh raised an eyebrow at that, and he just gave the mare an inquisitive look. Lyra's blush deepened, and she coughed into a hoof. “Uhm, you know, if you wanted to. As a friend.”
“This after that small speech o' yers 'bout mah 'singularity of stallionness'?” Macintosh asked, a smirk on his face.
Lyra opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it and closed it. She glanced down and rubbed a foreleg with the hoof of the other for a moment before she looked back up at the earth pony. “Look, you Apples value honesty, right?” she asked, and then waited for Macintosh to nod. “So I'll be honest with you and admit a small part of me is thinking of that. I don't think any young mare in Ponyville couldn't have thoughts like that in this situation, frankly.
“But when I said 'as a friend', I meant it,” Lyra continued, as she set her expression into a serious one. “You're a good guy, polite, and friendly, most of the time.” Her serious countenance broke briefly as she grinned at the last. “You'd make a good friend. As for anything more... well...” she trailed off, and then shrugged. “It either happens, or it doesn't. But I'm not going to waste time thinking about it when I could just be having fun with a friend.”
Again, Macintosh stood silently as he contemplated the mare's words. The silence stretched on a bit longer than he usually needed, but soon enough he smiled and nodded. “Nopony ever died of havin' too many friends,” he said, and then chuckled. “Pinkie Pie is proof of that,” he added, and then waited politely for Lyra to finish her brief laugh. “As fer th' rest, well... like ya said, either there's somethin' or there's not; we'll jus' let th' chips fall where they may.”
Lyra's beaming smile was a warm reward for his reply, and the unicorn's cheerfulness returned to her usual levels. “Sounds good,” she said, and then paused to think. “How's about a week from today? There's a spot where supposedly a human was seen making a camp about an hour's walk from Ponyville.”
Macintosh shook his head a bit at the mention of the mythical being, but he was good-natured as he replied. “A week from this Saturday might be better,” he said. “Got a lot of work ta do now that spring is comin' along nicely.”
“Great!” Lyra said, and then bounced on her hooves. “I still have to do some research about it and also finish writing my notes from our little adventure the other day,” she added, her enthusiasm moderating at the mention of the ride. “I'll come by in a couple of days to make plans, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Macintosh replied. “Ah'll see ya then, if'n Ah don't see ya in town first.”
“Great!” Lyra repeated, and then turned to run off. “Thanks Big Macintosh! You won't regret it!” she called back over her shoulder.
Macintosh watched her go, and then shook his head again. Ah swear, Ah don't know what comes over me at times, he thought, as he turned to resume his inspection rounds. They say love does weird things ta ponies. Ah don't know if this is rightly that or jus' a bit o' harmless fun, but it'll be interestin' ta find out.
