Over the next two weeks, Applejack couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d done with her brother down by the river that day. They both knew what sex was, even if they’d never done it, but the taboo of their relationship had stopped them from continuing any further than they’d already gone.

But as the days passed, Applejack’s thoughts started to wander away from the amazing feelings of his tongue on her folds - an experience they would try desperately to do whenever they thought Granny wouldn’t notice - and on toward the fantasies of his cock buried deep inside of her, thrusting until he was spent, leaving her with a child. And ‘settling down’ with him somewhere nopony knew who they were and wouldn’t ask any questions.

Applejack knew that society said what she was feeling was wrong. She shouldn’t love her brother this way, but… she did. And why shouldn’t she love her brother? Society had to be wrong.

But the doubt always plagued her. She knew her love wasn’t wrong, but what if he wasn’t really the one for her? She didn’t know how to tell, but the thought continued to bother her. And even though she couldn’t tell Granny the truth, she sought answers that only an older, wiser pony might be able to help with.

Granny Smith sat in her rocker, crocheting yet another blanket for the inevitable foalings that would come from the year’s heat season. She made it a point to give away a dozen of them every year to new mothers that were down on her luck; a penance she paid in memory of her own down-trodden years after Seville had left. An ancient melody from her past came to her as her hooves worked, and she began humming the tune softly as she worked.

Applejack peeked into the living room from around the doorway. Granny could sense the filly’s presence, even though her eyes were closed, her hooves working entirely off of muscle memory borne from years of practice. “Granny?” Applejack whispered softly, taking a few steps into the room.

Granny slowly opened one ancient eye to peer at the young filly. “Yes, child?”

Applejack shuffled her hooves nervously as her eyes followed the grooves between the floorboards. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

Granny’s other eye opened and the aged wrinkles of her face pulled back in a warm smile. “Then, ask,” she said softly. “I will always be here to help you.”

Taking a deep breath, Applejack met her grandmother’s gaze. “Granny, how will I know when I’ve found ‘the one’?”

“Hmm…” Granny Smith hummed, continuing to rock slowly as her hooves worked almost mindlessly. She had never found ‘the one’ herself; Seville had been her first and last. But the memory of her own son’s wedding surfaced - he had definitely found ‘the one’, as had Pear Butter. The poor things.

Her lips quivered as she stopped rocking and her crochet hooks came to a halt. She set the hooks aside and then carefully placed the partially-finished blanket in a box she kept by her chair for exactly this purpose.

“You’n yer brother,” she muttered. “But I s’pose you’re both that age…” Granny trailed off as she leaned back in the chair again. After a moment, she looked down at her granddaughter again, beckoning the filly closer. Applejack obeyed, and Granny lifted the young filly up into her lap - something Applejack was getting far too big for. But this was important - she couldn’t let Applejack ruin herself the same way.

“You don’t need to worry about that none, Applejack,” she said, stroking Applejack’s mane and thinking back to Pear Butter. “But you’ll know when you found ‘the one’, because when you’ve found him, you’ll be ready to give up everything just to be with him.”

The clock on the wall measured the silence with soft ticks as her granddaughter pondered those words.

“Everything?” Applejack wondered aloud.

“Everything. Even family.”

“Give up my family?” Applejack mumbled, her ears flattening. “I don’t think I could ever make that sacrifice.”

“Then he probably isn’t the one,” Granny replied, continuing to run a hoof through the filly’s soft mane. “But that’s okay. Fillies at your age don’t really fully understand love yet, anyway,” she recited, relaying her own mother’s wisdom. “Instead, you have little infatuations that turn into little relationships that give you the experiences you need to find ‘the one’ when you’re older. Even if he isn’t the one, it’s healthy for a filly your age to date and explore.”

Applejack fidgeted nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, Applejack,” Granny said tenderly. “Ain’t nopony expectin’ a filly your age to be in a lasting relationship. Relationships at yer age don’t last, but don’t let that dissuade you from having a coltfriend.” Then her expression hardened. “Just be careful not to do anything foolish. This is a dangerous time o’the year for a filly to be playing with colts, y’understand? We can’t afford any little ones.”

“I… I understand,” Applejack nodded somberly. Then, she slowly lowered herself back to the floor and trotted softly out of the room, her head hanging low.

Granny couldn’t help but feel bad; the poor filly was clearly heartbroken. But Granny also knew that the advice she had given was the right advice.

Big Macintosh was out feeding the pigs when his sister approached. Her head was drooping

and her hooves were dragging in the mud as she walked.

“What’s wrong little sis?” Big Mac asked as she came up next to him and flopped herself against the fence.

“I talked to Granny about how to figure out if I’ve found ‘the one’.”

Big Macintosh stopped working and glanced down at his little sister. “The one?”

“The one I should spend the rest of my life with.” She rested her head against his shoulder.

Big Macintosh waited in silence for her to continue, but she only rubbed up against him wordlessly. “What did she say?” he finally asked, pulling her into a hug.

“She said I would know when I’m ready to give up my family for him.” A small sniffle prompted him to hold her even tighter. He leaned in for a quick kiss, which she gave freely.

As their lips parted, he gazed into her eyes. She looked away quickly. “… you’re talking about me, then.” Big Macintosh said, the understanding dawning on him. “But, I am family. Give up family… to be with family,” he mused. “That don’t make no sense!”

“I know,” Applejack responded, trying not to cry. “But I think… I think that maybe…” A lump caught in her throat. “That maybe she’s right. Maybe we do gotta give up our family. She wouldn’t understand what we got, Mac. And that means… We gotta give up her...”

Big Macintosh stood there in silence for a few moments as Applejack’s quiet tears rolled down her cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away with his hoof, smearing a bit of mud across her fur.

“This ain’t right,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know. But I can’t help it. I love you, Big Mac.”

“That’s not what I meant, AJ. But… I love you, too.”

The two siblings held each other close for quite some time, each one lost in their own silent thoughts until the dinner bell called them away.

“SOUP’S ON!” Granny called out, clattering the bell loudly.

The two unwound from each other and slowly headed back to the farmhouse, heads hanging low, ears flat, and dragging their hooves through the dirt.

About halfway to the house, Applejack spoke up. “Hey, Big Mac?”

“Hmm?”

“You think maybe we could just run away? Go somewhere else that no one knows we’re siblings?”

“I dunno, Applejack. That seems mighty dangerous.”

“Would you do it? For me?” she pleaded. “For us?”

Big Macintosh continued on in silence until they reached the farmhouse. He held the door open for her, but placed a hoof on her flank as she went ahead of him. She stopped and turned to look at him.

“I’ll think about it,” he said with a strained smile. “I promise.”

She nodded, and continued on into the house.

A few nights later, Big Macintosh had gone to spend the night at a friend’s place. It was the first time Applejack had gone an entire day without seeing her brother since that day at the river. Normally, she could hear his breathing across the hall - a light snoring that reminded her that she didn’t have to be alone; that they could be together. Now she lay on her bed, longing to hear that gentle rumbling. Longing to cuddle up with him and hold him tight. To spread herself for him and let him lap at her flower. To suckle on his warm flesh until he came all over her again.

But he wasn’t even home. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was having similar thoughts over at his friend’s house.

She lightly touched herself with a hoof, imagining he was actually there and doing the touching instead. It wasn’t even her intent; she didn’t normally masturbate. Sure, she’d done it before, out of curiosity, but… it wasn’t very interesting and she didn’t make a point of doing it. But this time her own touch was electrifying.

Applejack couldn’t get the image of his cock out of her head. A tingling sensation built up in her nethers as she furiously rubbed against her vulva, paying special attention to the little nub of her clitoris as she tried to stifle her own moans. A tension built up and then suddenly released. Her orgasm had come faster than it had ever come before, and her fluids gushed out and sprayed down her bed. She continued straight on through the convulsions, continuing on fervently until another one - and another one - and even a fourth orgasmic release soaked her covers.

Her body trembled and shook in carnal bliss as she fell still on the damp bed. Even though she was exhausted, her body still demanded attention. Her hoof trailed down to touch herself again, but she was too sensitive - too tired. And her body still craved more - like an itch that she couldn’t quite scratch.

After several minutes of laying on her bed, panting for breath, Applejack finally found the energy to roll off the bed and onto her hooves - she needed to change the bedding before she could sleep. And she’d have to make sure she did the laundry before anypony else noticed in the morning.

With fresh linens on her bed - which were still slightly damp from where her juices had soaked through to the mattress - Applejack still was just as horny as when she started, despite her body’s demands for rest.

Maybe a cold bath would help her calm her needs. She would have to clean herself up anyway.

“Granny?” Applejack asked softly, not wanting to wake the old mare. “Are you awake?”

The ancient bones of the family matriarch shifted and one eye slowly opened to look at Applejack, whose mane was hanging down, limp and wet. “Of course I am, child. Did’ja take a bath at this hour? It’s getting late. You should be in your bed sleeping.”

“I tried, but… I can’t sleep,” Applejack confessed.

“Nightmares again?” Granny scoffed. “They don’t mean--”

“No!” Applejack interjected. “It’s not that. It’s just… I feel weird.” She nodded her head back toward her flank. “Back there. It’s hot, and itchy and distracting. I tried to… fix it… and took a cold bath, but...”

Granny leaned back into her chair, her features softening. A somber, knowing smile crossed her face. “Ah, so the time has come for you, then, too.” The old rocking chair began to rock slowly as Granny Smith closed her eyes again, humming to herself.

“What time?” Applejack wondered.

“It’s a shame your mother isn’t here to teach you about all this,” Granny grumbled. “I never did raise a filly of my own. Ya do understand the birds and the bees?”

“The… the what?” Applejack asked, confused. “You mean like how Fluttershy talks to them?”

Granny’s eyes snapped open with a fiery blaze of energy. “The birds and the bees, girl! Consarnit, schools don’t teach fillies nothin’ anymore. Now, you listen up good. Stallions have a penis, and mares have a vagina.”

Applejack blushed furiously. “Yes, Granny, I know that.”

Granny was undeterred. “Well, when a stallion smells a mare in season, he mounts up on her back, and his penis goes into her vagina. He thrusts into her a few times, and then he pulls out, and now you have a baby and a lot of regrets.”

“Granny!” Applejack yelled. “I already know about sex! You didn’t need to--”

“Then why are you asking me about yer consarned heat?”

“My heat?”

“That itchin’ in yer loins, girl. That’s the heat.”

Applejack tilted her head in confusion. This wasn’t what she expected heat to be like at all. “Alright,” she whispered. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“You either deal with it, or you make mistakes. Now, if you know what’s good fer ya, you’ll stay away from the colts for a while.” Granny Smith’s eyes closed again and she sank back into her chair. “Now, off to bed with you. Just remember to stay away from the colts. Clop yourself silly again if you must!”

That was the last thing Applejack wanted to her Granny talk about, but… a question lingered. “...Does clopping really help?” she asked timidly.

“Not at all,” Granny replied. Then she cracked an eye open again and a sly smile curled her lips. “But it sure feels nice when you’re in season, doesn’t it?”

That was not what Applejack wanted to hear from her grandmother, of all ponies, but there wasn’t anything she could do to unhear it. Her mouth dropped open and she spluttered nonsensically for several seconds.

Granny chuckled softly under her breath. “I ain’t deaf, girl,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “I do know what a filly sounds like when she’s having a good time. Now, go on, and don’t forget to clean up after y’self.”

Silence reigned in the living room as Applejack sulked in embarrassment, wondering if any other advice was still to come, but soon the only advice Granny was offering was a quiet snore.

Applejack turned back toward the stairs and slowly climbed back to her room.

Big Macintosh pulled one teat and then the other as warm cow’s milk slowly filled the metal bucket. It was just one more chore he had to do, and he did it without complaining, even though he’d rather be doing almost anything else.

An orange sunset filled the barn with a soft, warm light. Under these conditions, normally Big Mac would gladly lounge about in the hay and maybe take a nap. Occasionally he’d even fall asleep out here; it was surprisingly comfortable. But he had too many chores to do right now. Applejack hadn’t been helping much, and Granny Smith had told him to ‘mind his own business and make sure the chores got done’ when he asked about it.

He didn’t mind doing Applejack’s chores, really, but what he actually wanted was just to see her bright, shining smile.

To watch her flanks as she ran and walked…

…To touch her.

He glanced down at the cow’s udder in front of him, and the teats in his hooves. He squeezed one. They were nothing like Applejack’s filly teats. His imagination drifted off to when he’d seen hers numerous times. Not swollen or full of milk like a cow’s udders. Instead, they were mostly flat, with a pert little nipple on each. He found himself wishing he were touching those instead.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized the teats had stopped providing their milk. How long had he been milking the cow after it was dry? He wasn’t even sure. He picked up the bucket and took a long look back at the farmhouse. The window to Applejack’s room was lit up, and Applejack herself had her legs crossed on the window frame, her head resting on them.

She looked forlorn and sad. Was she feeling ashamed of what they had? Maybe; she’d been avoiding him for three days now - and barely spoken to him since he’d gotten home from his friend’s house. His heart sank at the thought that she might not want to be with him anymore. They needed to talk, and at this exact moment, he knew without a doubt where she was. He began lumbering toward the farmhouse.

It didn’t take long to get there. He pushed open the door and went to put the milk away only to realize he’d left the full bucket of milk in the barn. But that wasn’t important to him right now - instead, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever she might tell him, and started walking slowly up the stairs.

Of course, Applejack was far more nimble than he was; if she was avoiding him, he needed to be sure she didn’t hear him coming, or she’d run. Once he got into her room, he could easily stop her from leaving, but if she bolted before he got there, there was no way he’d catch her.

With careful, silent steps, he walked down the hall. Applejack’s bedroom was only a short distance away, and when he got there, he pushed the door open slowly. Her back was to him, still sitting at the window, but her head spun around quickly at the sound of the door and she gasped audibly. A blush quickly rose to her cheeks, and she began frantically looking around for an escape.

“Applejack?” Big Macintosh asked. “Why?”

“No, no. Big Mac, you need to go,” Applejack begged, seemingly on the verge of tears. “You can’t be in here right now.”

“What? What’s wrong, little sis?” he wondered. “You aren’t… scared of me, are you?”

Her body was visibly trembling and she stared at him with an unreadable expression. Worry started to creep in on the corners of his mind. Maybe she really was afraid of him?

“N-no,” Applejack squeaked. “I’m not. But… Granny says....”

“Granny?” Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow. “What does Granny have to do with anything? With us?”

“She says… She says I can’t be around colts right now,” Applejack choked. Big Macintosh rushed to her side, pulling her into an embrace. “She says… that I’ll regret things.”

“What could you possibly regret about being around me?” he asked her.

Applejack shook her head. “Nothing, Big Mac. I love you, and I always want to be with you, but…” She pulled away from him, looking up into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Big Mac.”

And without any further warning, she bolted.

Big Mac sat there in bewilderment as Applejack crashed through her own bedroom door. A clatter of hooves could be heard clopping down the steps before Big Mac realized he needed to follow her. To sort all of this out.

He barged down the stairs and to the front door, where the storm door was still bouncing and clattering from Applejack’s hasty departure. Without hesitation, he charged straight through it, not even caring if it was torn off of the hinges, and looked around frantically for Applejack. He thought he caught a fragment of her golden tail disappearing into the barn, and he began galloping that direction.

But there was no sign of her in the barn when he arrived. He was sure he’d seen her come in here. She had to be hiding somewhere; all of the windows were closed up, so she couldn’t have gone out in any other direction - but the dim light of the setting sun was quickly fading, casting nothing more than a wide beam of light from the barn door. He turned on the lamp and hung it up on the hook in the middle of the barn, casting shadows that danced along the walls as the lamp swayed back and forth.

“Applejack?” he called out into the crisp air.

No reply.

Big Macintosh wandered slowly around the barn, poking and prodding at things Applejack might be hiding in or around. “Applejack?” he called again.

“Go away, Big Mac!” came a muffled cry from up in the hay loft.

Big Mac looked up. “Can we at least talk?” he begged, his hooves clopping softly on the hard-packed dirt as he approached the ladder that led to the loft.

“No!”

“But… but why?”

“Because I don’t think I can control myself around you right now!”

Big Macintosh took a step back from the ladder. “Control yourself? AJ… I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“You don’t get it!” she cried. “I’m in heat, dummy!”

In heat? He took several steps backwards and fell on his rump, knocking over the bucket of fresh milk. Control herself? He probably should have paid more attention in class so he would know what to do to help her, but he knew what heat was - a strange illness that took every filly in the class for a few days each spring, and then they would come back as if nothing had happened.

Applejack was sick.

He slowly began climbing up to the loft.

“No, please, Mac! Just stay down there,” Applejack pleaded.

“It’s alright,” Big Macintosh replied. “If you’re sick… I’ll take care of you.”

He sat down at the top of the ladder. He wasn’t sure exactly where Applejack was hiding in the hay, but he knew that if she was going to leave, her only choice was to go through him, or jump down, and this would be his best chance to catch her if she tried either option.

“Please talk to me,” he begged. “I only want to help.”

As he looked around, waiting for a reply, there was a strange smell of something different up here. Something that wasn’t just the hay. Something alluring in a way he wasn’t familiar with. Little Macintosh started getting excited, coming slowly out of his sheathe as it stiffened up. He wasn’t sure exactly why it had done that, but he had a strong urge to clop himself off.

A soft moan gave away Applejack’s location. He resisted the temptation to touch himself and instead pushed aside a small pile of hay. His sister was right behind it, laying spread out in front of him, her hoof frantically working between her legs. His erection throbbed painfully at the sight.

“Applejack…” he breathed.

Her eyes fluttered open and she opened her mouth to protest, but Big Macintosh seized her and pulled her up into a kiss. Something in his mind exploded in bliss as their tongues explored, passionately. Something about that kiss was so much more than what it normally was.

Applejack pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily, and her hoof no longer working feverishly between her thighs.

“We can’t, Big Mac. I really… really want you to touch me right now. And… more than that. I’m losing control. But we… we can’t! Please, just go!”

“Is it really a bad thing?” Big Macintosh asked, not fully understanding her plight.

Applejack stared into his eyes with agonizing adoration and he stared right back at her, eyes full of love and affection. She felt his erection pressing against her leg. Instinctively, she looked down where she’d been touched, and gasped. It was absolutely swollen with his lust - far more than she’d ever seen before. And it called out to her like a beacon of hope. Slowly, she reached down with a hoof to stroke it softly.

Big Macintosh’s breath hitched at her touch. Her hooves were remarkably delicate against his skin, gliding up and down on the shaft. After a moment, her other hoof wrapped around his neck and pulled him down over the top of her.

“We shouldn’t,” Applejack breathed. “I know we shouldn’t. But… but I can’t stand it anymore.” And then she brought his rod down at an angle and… placed it against her virgin folds. “Please...”

He could scarcely believe this was happening. In all the times they’d fooled around, they had agreed that actual sex was… too much. Too big of a step. Too big of a risk. But her pleading eyes; the exotic, alluring smell; her warm folds spurring on a burning burning need in his core to just… claim her.

Big Macintosh nodded softly and leaned down to her ear. “I love you, Applejack,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Big Mac.”

And he pushed forward. Applejack gasped as his key entered her lock, bumping against the proof that it had never been opened before. It was only slightly painful, but she dared not let on that it hurt. In truth, she wanted this more than anything she’d ever wanted before in her life, and she would suffer any hurts and pains to have more of his love.

“Keep going,” Applejack pleaded.

He locked lips with her again, pulling his hips back ever so slightly and then pressing forward softly until he met resistance, before pulling back again.

“Deeper,” Applejack begged. “Don’t worry about me.”

His lips pulled away and he gazed into her eyes again. He smiled. She smiled back. And the lock opened. Applejack gasped in a mix of pain and pleasure as Big Macintosh groaned and grunted, pressing deeper into her than anything had ever gone before.

It hurt.

It was horrible.

It was strange.

...

It was amazing.

He held her tightly, his shaft impaled deep into her inner sanctum as they both breathed sharply into each other’s manes. “More,” Applejack whispered. “Please, don’t stop like this.”

Big Mac didn’t hesitate to oblige, withdrawing slowly. Applejack felt an strange emptiness as he withdrew, a desire to be filled up with his maleness again, but it was only temporary as he pushed forward, and the pressure and fullness returned. A moan escaped her lips.

The sound of her erotic call was not lost on him. He groaned out softly as he felt his cock brush against the end of her tunnel. He wanted to hear those lovely moans again - to know that he–and he alone–was giving her that pleasure, and that she wanted him in return. He pulled out slowly, just to push back once more. Her heavenly voice softly cried out again.

He wanted to hear that lovely sound again, and again, and again. He withdrew once more, and as he became more confident in his actions, he slowly and steadily increased the tempo of his thrusts. Her hormone-driven lust permeated the air around him, filling all of his senses with a demand to do what he’d been placed in this world to do.

Applejack felt a building pressure in her loins; that same intense pleasure she’d felt back on the riverbank when they’d gone ‘fishing’, but building faster and faster - even faster than she’d felt the other night in her room. The rapid spasms of her winking clit against his rubbing shaft sent jolts of pleasure up and down her spine as she felt her release crashing through her body. “Oh, Big Mac!” she cried out, seizing him in her hooves and holding him as tightly as she could. Her entire body convulsed with ecstasy as her pussy clamped down spasmodically on the shaft inside of her depths.

In spite of the crushing grip of her tunnel, Big Mac didn’t slow down at all when he felt the warm gush of fluids against his balls. Her erotic moans and the sound of his name drove him ever harder into her. Her tunnel grasped and pulled at his member each time he withdrew, desperately trying to milk him in a fashion not entirely unlike how he’d milked the cow only an hour ago.

And he desperately wanted to fill her bucket.

Her cute grunts and moans spurred him onward as he went faster, deeper, and harder. A building pressure somewhere deep in his groin told him that something would come soon - that same building sensation he’d felt when she had taken him in her mouth.

“A-a-applejack, I’m going to…”

“Mmmm…” she moaned. “Keep…” Her eyes went wide. “No, wait, Big Mac. Pull out, you can’t!”

“Consarn it, can’t those kids turn off the damn lamp…”

Big Macintosh’s eyes shot open wide at the sound of Granny’s voice, and in that exact same moment his entire being convulsed in orgasm, his cock twitching and pulsing as it fired directly into Applejack’s fertile womb.

“No!” Applejack shrieked.

“Applejack,” Granny called out flatly. Dangerously. “Aren’t ye supposed to be going t’ sleep?”

“Get offa me!” Applejack hissed at Big Macintosh. Big Macintosh rolled quietly off of his sister, his softening member pulling out of her tunnel with a wet slurp.

Granny sniffed the air. “An’ after I told ye’ t’stay away from the colts!” Granny shouted. “Get yer keister down here! And yer’ coltfriend, too!”

Applejack crawled carefully to the edge of the loft ladder and glanced down into the old, tired eyes of Granny Smith - normally so warm and inviting, but now set with a cold, steely glare.

“C’mon now!” Granny demanded.

The old ladder creaked audibly under Applejack’s weight as she slowly descended down to the ground. Once Applejack was on the ground she stood in front of Granny, hanging her head in shame. The feeling of Big Mac’s ejaculate running slowly down her thigh didn’t help. Granny didn’t seem to pay her any mind, however.

“Come on, coltfriend!” Granny hollered up toward the loft. “Git your hiney down here, young’un! Y’durned colts is nothing but a pain in th’flanks.”

“Granny, stop,” Applejack whispered. “Let him be.”

Granny whirled on Applejack. “Don’t you tell me what t’do! Y’ve caused enough trouble tonight already!”

Seeing that Granny’s attention was finally turned away from the loft, Big Macintosh slowly descended the ladder, hoping to make a stealthy exit through one of the windows. For certain values of stealth and ‘window’.

“What were you thinkin’, girl?” Granny continued.

“I…” Applejack didn’t know what to say, pawing at the ground nervously with a hoof.

The sound of wood cracking resounded throughout the barn as one of the old ladder’s steps broke under Big Mac’s weight. His body hit the ground with a mighty whump, drawing Granny’s attention.

“B… Big… Macintosh…?” Granny spluttered, confused. “What’re…” Her eyes went wide as saucers as she looked at Big Mac’s flagging erection, slick with sexual fluids that had attracted tiny bits of broken hay from the loft. She glanced at Applejack, whose inner legs were home to a drizzle of cum drooling down to her hooves. “Apple…” Granny mumbled. “But… Mac...”

“Granny, I can explain…” Applejack began.

“NOPE!” Granny shouted. “Nope! You git yer keister in the house. Right now. I ain’t tellin’ you twice!”

“But Granny--”

“YOU AIN’T LISTENIN’!” Granny shouted. “Git t’the house!”

Applejack closed her mouth and stared at the dirt floor for a moment. There was nothing to be done now - what happened couldn’t be undone, and Granny had caught them red-coated... And orange-coated. … With cream.

Applejack slowly turned and started toward the farmhouse.

Big Macintosh tried to follow her, hoping Granny wouldn’t address him again, but Granny Smith shoved him to the ground. “And YOU!” she hollered right in his face. “You can just sleep out here with the pigs. Where you belong!”

“Granny, I-”

“Ah don’t wanna hear it, Macintosh Apple,” she spat. “You, of all ponies, should know better. You’re older than she is, and I thought you was smarter and more responsible than her, too. But it ain’t the first time I’s been wrong ‘bout you.”

And with that, Granny turned toward the farm house and stomped her way back up the hill. “And we don’t have any money,” he heard her muttering as she faded into the darkness outside. Big Macintosh sat in the dirt, staring at his hooves in the lamp light.

“But I love her, Granny,” he muttered to himself. “And I wanna be with her.” A long sigh escaped his lips as he leaned against the wall. “Is that really so wrong?” he asked to anypony who might be listening.

A long silence answered him.

Author's Note

I tripped and found some words.