“Thanks for helpin’ with the harvest, sugarcube,” Applejack says with a grin as I dismount from my motorcycle.

“It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do over the summer,” I say.

I pull my helmet off and hang it from the handle of my bike. The heat is cloying, but I’m wearing my leathers anyway. Dress for the slide, as they say. That said, I start peeling them off the moment I’m off my bike, stripping down to the already-sweat-stained tee shirt and jean-shorts I’d put on for the day’s work.

“Ugh, it should not be this hot at nine in the morning,” I grumble as I run my fingers through my hair, teasing out the snarls and tangles from the ride.

“And it only gets hotter,” Applejack says with a grin.

“Disgusting.” I glance around as I scowl playfully at my friend. “Where’s that rain barrel?”

Applejack jerks a thumb towards the barn and I immediately head in that direction with my friend behind me while I look around, squinting in the harsh sunlight until I spot it under the gutter at the barn’s north corner.

I don’t give a damn if the water is crystal clear or half-mud, so long as it’s cold.

Without a word to Applejack I put a hand on either side of the barrel and dunk head, shoulders, and half my torso into the freezing water.

The shock of it knocks the wind from my lungs, but in a good way if that makes any sense, and I emerge violently with a gasp, swinging my hair around like a wet dog and earning a shout of mock outrage from Applejack as I spray her.

I take deep breaths as I shake my head, and as I clear the water from my ears I hear something clatter to the ground.

Apple Bloom is standing a few feet away, having come from around the corner of the barn, and was staring at me as her sister took her turn at the barrel.

At the feet of the Apple Clan’s youngest daughter, now a beautiful and vibrant young woman of nineteen, is a large stack of apple baskets.

“WOOEE!” Applejack crows as she pulls herself out of the rain barrel and shakes her head, giving as good as she got from me. “That’ll wake ya up.”

“No kidding,” I say with a chuckle before turning to Apple Bloom. “You okay, Bloom?”

I’d known Applejack’s younger sister for over five years now. She’d been a freshman when I was a senior with the rest of the girls. Over the course of the last few years, she’d sprouted up to five-foot and eight inches of lean beauty. Her gawky, coltish sophomore and junior years were well behind her and she was shaping up to be every bit the knockout that her sister is. I knew plenty of boys, and a few girls, that had crushed hard on Apple Bloom in her last year. If they could see her now they’d probably double down. Her outfit is much the same as mine, there are only so many choices when your day involves sweating like a hog in the dead of summer doing manual labor, but she’s rocking it a little differently, with her too-big gray tee that’s tied up at the arms and midriff.

Actually… I recognise that shirt. It’s one of Applejack’s, making it one of Apple Bloom's many hand-me-downs. Applejack and Bloom both have that lean, powerful, thoroughbred look to them, but there’s no getting around the fact that Applejack is both taller and broader than her younger sister.

Either way, I spent enough nights over at Sweet Apple Acres to think of her as a good friend, but I’d never seen her wear a look on her face like she was wearing right now; her cheeks had gone red, her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open in a small, shocked, ‘o’.

“Bloom?”

Applejack gives her sister an odd look, and instantly Apple Bloom’s expression vanishes to be replaced with a grin no different from any of her other smiles.

“Mornin’ Sunset,” she drawls, “how was the ride?”

“Hot and sweaty,” I say with a laugh.

Her cheeks color again, but only for a moment.

“Bloom, y’all go ahead and get started up in the north orchard with Sunset here,” Applejack says as she wrings out her hair.

“What?!”

Apple Bloom’s eyes go wide, earning odd looks from both of us this time.

“What’s the problem?” Applejack asks sharply. “Me’n Mac can handle an orchard apiece, but we got ‘bout a decade more experience in us than you, so Sunset’ll help, unless you got an issue with mah friend?”

Those last few words come out with a razor hidden behind them. As far as our friend group goes, Applejack is only less protective of us than Rainbow Dash, and not by a lot.

“N-No, Ah just… Ah thought Ah was workin’ alone, that’s all,” Apple Bloom says, waving a hand defensively.

Applejack narrows her eyes and her sister for a moment, nods, then shrugs.

“I’ll grab another stack'a baskets,” Bloom says, nodding behind her.

“It’s fine,” I say, moving past her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know where they are.”

Her response is something like an affirmative wheeze, and I raise an eyebrow. Before I can ask, though, she moves out from under my hand.

“O-Okay! I’ll meetcha up there then!” She gives me that trademark Apple Family grin, dimples and all, and then puts her back to me and starts sprinting.

“Is Bloom okay?” I ask, turning to Applejack who’s eyeing her sister’s rapidly dwindling back with clear suspicion.

Then she turns the look on me, although it only lasts a moment before she smiles, then starts laughing.

“Yeah,” Applejack says through her chortles. “Ah reckon she’s just fine.”

“If you say so,” I say with a shrug.

I head into the barn to retrieve the set of barrels I’d be using, load them up on my shoulders, and turn to start the long walk up to the north orchard. It’s beautiful out here in the summer, absolutely beautiful, and I savor the short hike through the vibrant orchard.

Out here, it almost feels like I’m back in Equestria again.

Not that I would want to leave the human world since I’ve gone pretty native, but there’s a certain nostalgia for the bright colors and unfettered nature of Equestria that I’ll always miss just a little.

“Hey!”

I call out to Apple Bloom as I spot her in front of one of the larger trees with a sore look on her face, shaking her fist out which, I note, has a brilliant set of bruised knuckles.

“Ow, sonuva—oh! H-Hey, Sunset!”

Apple Bloom forces a smile through her grimace, and I chuckle quietly.

“You tried ‘the punch’ didn’t you?” I ask as I stop beside the tree and drop my baskets beside hers.

“Ah don’t get what Ah’m doin’ wrong,” Apple Bloom says grumpily.

‘The Punch’ as it is affectionately referred to among our little group, is something I’ve only ever seen members of the Apple Family do.

The bark of the apple trees at Sweet Apple Acres is particularly obdurate, and part of me wonders if it’s some kind of micro-evolution responding to how Applejack and her family shake the trees down for their apples. Regardless, it means that they can get pretty rough with them without damaging the trees, up to and including physically knocking the apples out of the trees with a single, well-placed punch.

Watching Applejack do ‘the punch’ is like watching a kung fu master take down someone twice their size and three times their weight. It’s a fluid economy of motion that starts at the feet and travels up the body in a single graceful strike ending in a bough-shaking impact that rattles a good three-quarters of the tree’s bounty to the ground.

The fact that Apple Bloom can’t pull off ‘the punch’ properly is the main reason she’s not as fast at harvesting as her brother and Applejack, who mastered the technique some time ago.

“Here, let me,” I say, nodding for Apple Bloom to move.

She gives me a withering look as I step past her and put my hand on the tree bark, running my palm over the thick, knotted bark.

“Y’all’re actin’ like you can do it,” Apple Bloom says with a scowl.

“I can.”

“Horseshit,” Apple Bloom snaps. “Ain’t no one but’n Apple can pull that move off.”

I shrug off her waspish reply and turn to shoot her my second-best shit-eating grin. Her scowl melts away at what I can only assume is the sheer nerve on my face, and after a moment her cheeks go red as she heatedly waves a hand at the tree.

“Well fine!” She says. “Prove it!”

I feel a little bad, but at the same time, my vanity and pride keep my mouth shut as I turn to the tree. As mean as it is, I can’t wait to see the look on Apple Bloom’s face.

With hesitation, I let myself go slack. My feet plant into the earth, grinding down and laying deep roots. The air leaves my lungs before returning in a slow draw that rides up the muscles of my legs, through my trunk, into my heart and out along my arms, and in that same motion of breath, I pivot the full weight of my body and lance out a fist that connects hard with the trunk of the tree.

Full power. Center mass.

The tree rocks and a brief hailstorm of apples drop to the soft grass beneath the boughs with a chorus of gentle thuds.

I turn and give Apple Bloom my best shit-eating grin.

“See? No sweat!”

Apple Bloom is staring with a slack jaw and a dumbstruck look of total disbelief as I shake out my only lightly bruised hand. I still don’t get how Applejack whacks every single tree in the orchard like that and somehow manages to still have skin on her hands.

“H—” Apple Bloom chokes on her words as she raises a shaky hand to point at the mostly-appleless tree— “HOW?!”

I tone down my grin to a smile and chuckle.

“Because I cheat,” I reply. “Or… I cheated, once, two years ago, remember? During that big harvest when two of the hired hands got in a wreck and couldn’t work?”

Apple Bloom frowns thoughtfully as she lowers her hand.

“Oh yeah,” she looks up at me suspiciously. “But we got it all done anyhow, right?”

“Your sister and I mi~ght have used some magic to help out with that,” I admit sheepishly.

“But that don’t make sense,” Apple Bloom says. “How’s your magic supposed to help with that? Ain’t it just mind-readin’ or somethin’?”

Mind reading. That’s what it looks like on the outside, I know, and honestly, I take great pains to make sure that preconception stays intact among my friends. The truth is that the power I gained from my geode goes a lot deeper than just the mind.

“Yes,” I say quietly, “and no.”

Apple Bloom stares at me, then looks at the tree, and I feel a pang of guilt shoot through my chest as her face falls. That lower-lip quiver ought to be illegal for how cute it is. No one should be allowed to look that helpless.

“Dagnabbit,” Apple Bloom says wetly. “Even y’all’re a better Apple than me.”

Shit.

“Hey, that’s not true,” I say softly, stepping closer and putting an arm over her shoulder. “I told you… I cheated. I didn’t earn that move, I just— well, I didn’t steal it, I just borrowed it. You’re the one who’s earning it the right way.”

“What’s it matter if all ya gotta do is,” she gives her hand a vaguely mystical wiggle, “and ya know it?”

Why can’t I just keep my big mouth shut and my bigger ego under control? I didn’t have to use the punch. I could’ve just helped Apple Bloom the right way and everything would have been fine but nope! Sunset Shimmer had to show off again! Because that’s what she does!

Twenty-three years old, with countless friendship lessons under my belt, and I’m still a bitch on accident better than half the time.

“Want me to teach you?” I ask.

“Big Sis says it can’t really be taught,” Apple Bloom grumbles.

“Let me try.”

I hold out a hand and smile, and that touch of pink comes back to Apple Bloom’s cheeks as she stares at it for a long moment, licks her lips, then shyly puts her smaller hand in mine.

Taking a firm grasp, I lead her over to another tree and set her in front of it at what I take a guess is the right distance given the length of her arms.

“Okay, this is going to feel a little weird, but bear with me,” I say as I take both of her wrists, one in each hand and mold myself against her back.

“W—?! S-Sunset, w-what’re ya—?” Apple Bloom stammers.

“Relax,” I say quietly as I try to focus on the amber glow inside of me. “Just let me lead and listen to my voice.”

I move her right hand back, using my center of gravity to move her torso with the motion, and lead her left hand forward until her palm is resting on the bark of the tree.

“Just relax,” I repeat. “Let your muscles go slack… don’t try to learn, don’t try to force it. You’re a daughter of the Apple Clan, and the land knows that. The trees know it, the grass knows it, the ground knows it from the topsoil to the bedrock.”

“Ah don’t—”

“Ssh,” I hiss, and she clams up. “Just listen to my voice and close your eyes.”

“O-Okay.”

She sounds frightened, and I don’t blame her, but this is the best way I know how to help her. I can feel the uncertainty radiating out of her, even without my geode. I can feel her fears of inadequacy, which is a giant mood if I’m being honest, along with how harshly she’s judging herself.

“You don’t need to learn,” I say quietly. “You just need to let yourself remember.”

From deep inside myself I dredge up a few sparks of magic.

Something that I and the rest of the girls discovered some years ago was that the longer we used our geodes, the less we needed them. Sure, maybe Rarity can’t conjure bulwarks of opal light and Pinkie can’t turn the local confectionary into an IED, but we can do small things.

Rainbow is crazy fast. Applejack is unreasonably strong. Rarity can manifest little planes of light to move things around, Fluttershy can get an unnaturally accurate gist of what animals are talking about, Pinkie turns almost any ice cream topping into a small firecracker, and Twilight has begun developing true rudimentary telekinesis.

And me?

I tighten my grip on Apple Bloom’s wrists just slightly, and connect.

“Harmony,” I say. “This is harmony.”

Apple Bloom gasps softly as the collective memory of the land around her washes through her. It doesn’t flood in. It’s too vast for that, and besides, the land doesn’t recall things the way we do, but it remembers us. The earth remembers the drumbeat of a thousand Apple footsteps. The air remembers their laughter. The trees remember each and every harvest; every cycle, every lifetime, and it’s all connected.

“The trees, the roots, the earth, the air… everything is harmony,” I say as Apple Bloom’s breathing starts to even out. “Imagine a ball of light shining blindingly bright… that’s us, we just don’t know it. We’re all the same, we’re all harmony.

“Now imagine that ball of light with a black cloth full of pinholes thrown over it, and how the light shines through each tiny hole like a million unique stars. I’m one of those, and you’re another one, and your sister is another, and every member of your family is one too. We’re all the same light playing hide-and-seek with itself, we just have to peek beneath the cloth and remember.”

I take in a deep breath and as I do I feel Apple Bloom remember along with me.

We remember the memories of the earth and mud because that soil remembers just how a different pair of feet that was also the same pair as always settled into it time and time and time again. The air remembers for the both of us just how we breathed it in so many times before. We close our fist as the tree remembers how much force we exerted and precisely how our body tensed in the moment just before we struck. The land remembers when we were Applejack and Big Mac. When we were Bright Mac and Pear Butter and Granny Smith.

It remembers how we bent our knees, breathed deep, bunched our muscles, and with the memory of tens of thousands of strikes over thousands of trees over hundreds of harvests it recalls exactly how we dig in our heels, flex, twist, and STRIKE.

The tree rocks and I step back with a broad grin as apples rain from the sky.

Apple Bloom stares down at the mass of apples around her, then turns to me with the most deliriously happy smile on her face that I’ve ever seen.

I get a glimpse of it that lasts only half a second before she tackles me, arms wide before they tighten around me in a desperate, joyous hug and—

And suddenly a pair of warm, soft lips are pressing against mine.

If I were a better person, I would have gathered my wits as quickly as possible and stepped back from Apple Bloom. I would have let her down easy, realising that she probably was just riding a high from tasting the universal conjunction of harmony for the first time in her life, and needed an outlet.

Yeah.

If I were a better person.

Instead, I’m a kind of shitty person who hasn’t been laid in a while with notoriously terrible impulse control.

My hands go to Apple Bloom’s waist, slipping around the bare skin of her midriff to the cute dimples at the small of her back as I let out a soft moan and open my mouth just slightly, enough for our tongues to meet and play together. Her hands tangle into my hair, and she runs her fingers through it, caressing my neck here and there and sending shivers down my spine as she does and the whole time there’s a teeny tiny part of my brain which is absolutely screaming at me to stop. Because this is Apple Bloom. This is my best friend’s little sister.

Objectively, yes, she’s an adult. She graduated (with better grades than her big sister I might add), has a good head on her shoulders, and she is completely allowed to make her own choices regarding who she pursues romantically.

Applejack is still going to make sure no one ever finds my body, though. I know her. She has plenty of land to hide my murdered corpse. And yet, my survival instinct is still not strong enough to convince me to pry Apple Bloom off of me.

She’s just… really nice to kiss, honestly.

When she finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are red and slightly swollen, and her cheeks are brilliantly flushed, and it’s in that moment I realise that her eyes are the most enchanting shade of red I’d ever seen.

They’re the exact color of rose apples.

“Bloom, I—”

She silences me with another kiss, sealing her lips over mine again. This time, though, the kiss is softer, more chaste, and so much sweeter. If that last kiss had been hard to pull away from, this one is downright impossible.

This time her hands move over and around my shoulders. Apple Bloom drapes herself from me and I find myself naturally moving to cradle her in my arms. She’s just the right height, just the right weight, that she fits perfectly against me. It’s not fair. It is not fair that she’s this nice to hold.

Illegal.

Absolutely fucking illegal.

Well, call me a criminal then, I guess.

After what feels like an hour but was probably more like a minute and a half, Apple Bloom draws back. It’s a slow thing. Like a knife being pulled out from between my ribs despite my being unable to account for how it got planted there in the first place. It’s a little galling that I follow the touch of her lips for a moment before getting a hold of my own self and pulling back too.

We’re both breathing hard by this point, and she’s staring up into my eyes like the stars in the sky, and—

“Ah love you.”

What?

W—

What?

Before I can respond, Apple Bloom’s eyes go wide as she, I think, realises what three words just came out of her mouth. She claps a hand over her lips, backs up, then turns, pausing only to snatch up her three barrels, and deadass sprints away from me at full speed to the other side of the north orchard.

“Well… shit,” I say to the trees.

I like to think that they empathise.

Author's Note

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