Moonlight vomited through Applejack's window, muffled only a tad by the maroon curtains. It weaved and looped around her room, smacking into several walls, furniture pieces and knickknacks. And of course, it filled into her face, her eyes, her nose, covering and streaming down her blanketed body.
The night was peaceful, a welcome reprieve from the almost weekly basis of mad chaos spirits, shapeshifting bug royalty, or insect ursines. The night was a time to relax, to be freed from the bustle and exertion of the farm or interacting with other ponies, to simply allow one's mind to drift into nothing. Blissful nothing.
That, of course, was completely shattered when a bloodcurdling screech awoke the farmer. She jolted out of bed, sweating despite the fairly cool air, and instinctively tensed her rear legs for a defensive kick.
Seeing that there was nothing- or seemed to be nothing -in her room, not in front of her bed or in her closet or otherwise, she rolled off the mattress and patted down her mane a slight. She glanced around the room again, eyes now swollen into her sockets, analyzing every dark crevice and sunken alcove the way Twilight may analyze an encyclopedia. Ears swiveling for the most minute of dangers, nostrils flaring to pick up the scent of forest creatures, or- well, she'd rather not think about what else.
Nothing.
She didn't let her guard down, per se, but she did stop actively looking for threats, and instead walked over to her closet, grabbing her trademark hat and a shovel she kept nearby for exactly this purpose. Whatever made that noise was definitely not a pony, though in that case, she didn't know what it may be. It was too high pitched for a manticore or, Celestia forbid, a hydra. But it sounded too... guttural, almost wet, for a timberwolf. She was at a loss.
First things first- check her family. Apples came first, potential nightmare abominations in the night could wait. She ever so slowly peeked out her wooden door, creaking on the carpeted panel flooring. She wouldn't simply burst through her door, that'd be stupid. Her eyes scanned the hall, sure, but her true surveillance were her ears and nose, far more capable of detecting a strange presence.
Finding no weird shapes, scents or sounds, Applejack crept out of her room, being as delicate as possible with the somewhat aged floor, stepping mostly on boards she knew wouldn't groan obnoxiously. She walked across the hall, to her big brother's room.
She stopped outside, and again, peeked within.
Her brother was in a sprawl on his mattress, as usual. Limbs randomly jutting out from his sheets in a way that reminded her of Discord. He was certainly messy, but she couldn't tell anything was amiss from here, and she wasn't about to invade his space just for a hunch.
Okay, maybe she would do that, but not right now. She had to check the others.
She repeated the same procedure for Apple Bloom and Granny, investigating them through tiny cracks in the door. Again, nothing out of the ordinary; Bloom still huddled under her blankets like a cocoon, and Granny still had the snore of a dragon.
Now that that was taken care of, she figured she would investigate the orchards. Just to be sure.
Applejack slowly walked over to the kitchen, passively glancing at every shadowed corner she passed. She could've sworn there was a second set of hoofsteps, but she had just woken up. Better not to panic until she had something physical to worry about.
Upon stepping into the kitchen, she noticed there was a kettle of tea on the stove. She didn't remember brewing any, but Granny must've made some after Applejack went to bed, then forgot to clean up. It wasn't uncommon.
Inspecting the kettle, she lifted it off and raised a hoof over the burner.
She frowned. It was still warm. That... was strange.
Checking the bellows, it looked like they'd been recently used, more like a difference of minutes than hours. So... who'd made tea? Again, it was still possible Granny had made tea, then forgot about it and went back to bed. But...
Applejack made sure to take the kettle off the stove, lowering the chance of any accidents. Now she was really on edge. First the screech, now the ghost tea... That second set of hooves was looking less likely, but it wasn't time to freak out yet.
She needed to check out the barn, and her orchards.
She gave each of her family's rooms one more check, then took her shovel and stepped out the door.
Utter silence. No parasprite or glowfly buzzing, no distant howls of timberwolves, nothing. That was more worrying than any otherworldly sound.
Her eyes flicked side to side, ears snapping to every minute detail she thought she heard. The journey to the barn was neither expedient nor calming, but she made it.
For one, the doors were already open, even though she distinctly remembered bolting them before she went to bed. So she was even more on edge.
She deliberated through the drive bay, the lot, even going upstairs to investigate the rafters. Her shovel was trembling slightly, but she was still ready to give a good thwack to anypony who thought breaking into her property was a good idea.
Nothing.
She sighed, not in relief, but frustration. This was starting to go from anxiety-inducing to simply annoying. Whoever had broken into the barn was either not here, or exceptionally good at hiding. So maybe Pinkie Pie. But Pinkie wasn't particularly interested in farms, and she slept like a stone, so that was unlikely.
Just to be safe, she lit up the sconces, giving a semi-comforting orange glow to the structure. Even with this additional light, she didn't see anything she hadn't already. It seemed that. as far as she knew, there really was nopony here.
All that was left was for a patrol through the orchards. She knew it wasn't very likely to find anything, but it was worth a shot. It would be difficult for her to sleep now anyway.
Obviously, looking through every individual tree would be... inefficient, so she decided to travel down rows, inspecting anything out of the ordinary.
She readied her shovel, and began marching. The second set of hoofsteps joined her.
This was a terrible idea.
Her legs ached at this point, and she could barely lift her eyelids. She wasn't even sure she could make it back to the house; she very well might just fall asleep there and then.
But she needed to finish the routine, no matter how monotonous or annoying. That was being a farmer, after all.
Just as she was yawning and ready to hit the sack, she spotted something. And heard something.
Singing?
She inched behind a tree, past which she thought she heard the vocals. It was almost hypnotic, soothing. It sounded like, like...
Her mother.
Applejack shook her head. That was a bunch of horseapples. Her parents were together on the hill, that was concrete. So whoever... or whatever this was, it was copying her mother's sound... somehow.
She crept incredibly slowly around the tree, readying the shovel.
She peeked around the edge of the trunk, ears pointed to the singing. Every muscle tightened, anticipating having to fight or run. Time slowed down just slightly, and she was suddenly far more aware of the dirt on her hooves, the sweat running down her muzzle and face.
She looked...
There was nothing. Again.
She facehooved. She was hallucinating, obviously. She should've known walking through a silent farm for almost two hours while tired would make her loopy. She wasn't in any condition to fight off a trespasser right now, she needed to go to bed.
She heaved the shovel over her back, heading back to the house. She sighed in relief this time, knowing that, aside from the screech earlier- which may have just been a nightmare -and the teapot- which probably was just Granny -there was almost nothing amiss.
Granted, the broken into barn was still alarming, but she'd locked it up tight. If somepony was so clever as to hide in there, they could wait in the cold till morning for her wrath.
Finally able to relax, and really needing rest, Applejack trotted back to the house, fears abated.
Her mother followed happily along.
