Apple Bloom felt the tears plastering the fur of her cheeks freezing in the icy wind. She’d left all her clothing at home in her rush to exit.
They’d be following after her, of course. There would be accusations. Lectures. Recrimination. She deserved it all. She knew that. It didn’t help.
The naked trees reached up into the clear skies, like twisted, dead husks. She knew that the spring thaw, and Winter Wrap Up, would bring new life to the orchard; for now all she saw was death. She ran, shaking her head to dislodge the tears that still flooded from her eyes.
Finally she found the trees she was looking for. She didn’t hesitate, running up to the twining pear and apple tree trunks. Heedlessly she approached the trees, rearing up at the last second to slam her hooves against the trunks. With gut clenching sobs she beat her hooves against the trees, screaming and whimpering her rage, her grief, and her emptiness.
Apple Bloom didn’t bother to count the minutes, but eventually she became tired, slumping into the thin layer of snow that spread over the frozen ground. She was shivering with cold, her face clenched in her hooves.
It was so stupid. She was almost an adult. She had a job. She had a marefriend. Grownup ponies didn’t break down like this. They didn’t scream at their family and throw pancakes. Applejack never acted like this; she cried on the inside.
Apple Bloom was such a failure.
Something thick draped over her, covering her with warmth. It was a quilt. She could smell the scent of apple cider; this was one of Granny’s quilts, that she wrapped around herself for her winter naps.
“Granny?” Apple Bloom’s voice was harsh, raw with sobbing.
“Nah,” came Applejack’s voice. Apple Bloom pulled the quilt down so she could see her sister.
Applejack was busy with something. She was piling sticks next to the paired trees, about a pony-length away. It was the beginnings of a campfire, Bloom realized.
“What are you--”
“Have ta warm up the ground, if I’m gonna dig,” Applejack said quietly, and Apple Bloom’s breath caught in her throat. She saw the other things her sister had brought; a pair of shovels, and a small bundle, wrapped about in another one of Granny’s quilts.
Her eyes stung. Her chest ached, and she dashed helplessly at her new tears with one hoof, not caring if she was smearing dirt and snow into the matted fur. She pulled the blanket over her face, to hide herself from her sister’s gaze. Silently she trembled underneath the warmth of the quilt.
“Ya know yer gonna have to go back and apologize,” Applejack said. Apple Bloom could hear her finishing with the fire, then listened to the scratch of a match against Applejack’s hoof. She heard her sister blowing. Then she could feel the warmth of the fire.
“I know,” she whimpered. Guilt burned hotter than the fire, but not hot enough to warm her icy gut. “I’m sorry.”
“Eeyup,” Applejack drawled solemnly. Apple Bloom waited for more, waiting for the lecture, the countryisms, even the shame and reproach. Applejack was silent. Once again Apple Bloom nosed her way out of the blanket to look at her sister.
Applejack sat next to the fire, with one hoof holding her hat to her chest, the other hoof resting lovingly on the shapeless bundle in the quilt. Apple Bloom gulped, jerking her eyes away from the limp package, and to her sister. Applejack’s eyes were wet as well. She watched for several minutes, waiting for some sort of reaction, but Applejack just sat there, crying softly.
“How do you do it?” Apple Bloom whispered. Applejack shrugged.
“I don’t know how to answer that, Bloom,” Applejack sighed. “At least, not in a good way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve had experience.” A chill colder than any winter fell over the two of them, and Apple Bloom looked up at the trees that entwined about above them. She was too young to remember, but Applejack wasn’t.
“It’s… it’s not fair to compare the two,” Apple Bloom admitted, and finally Applejack looked back at her, her eyes brimming with sympathy and love.
“Oh, sugarcube. Don’t say that. Hurtin’ is hurtin’. It doesn’t matter to the pony that’s in pain.”
“But…”
“Hush. You don’t have to apologize for how you feel. And you don’t have to feel bad cuz you can’t remember them.”
That was exactly what she’d been thinking.
She lifted the blanket and stood, sliding over to where Applejack was sitting. Wordlessly she wrapped the blanket around both of them and leaned into her sister. She remembered when Applejack had been so much taller than her. Now they were nearly the same size, and Applejack leaned back into her. The two sisters embraced.
“I’m so sorry, Applejack,” she whispered. Applejack nodded. “No, really. This is probably harder on you than on me. She was your pet, after all, and--”
“None of that. Winona was family to all of us. You get to cry just as much as I do.”
Apple Bloom let out a humorless laugh. “I think I’ve been doing a mite more crying than anypony today.”
“Could be,” Applejack shrugged. “Doesn’t mean we’re not all hurtin’, though.”
“Yeah, I know.” Apple Bloom sighed. “I promise, I’ll go apologize to Granny and Mac. There was no cause to yell at them, or say what I said, or--” She broke off in a new flood of tears, hot liquid shame pouring from her eyes as she shook
“Hush. Hush now, Bloom, you’re okay,” Applejack rubbed her shoulder with her hoof. “Mac and Granny’ll forgive ya. Ponies do silly things when they’re in pain.”
Apple Bloom cried herself out. Maybe it was hours, maybe it was days. When she opened her eyes, the fire was down to embers, cooling slowly. A ring of melted snow surrounded them.
“I reckon we could get started,” Applejack sighed. She held out a shovel to Apple Bloom, and took up the second herself. The two of them dug into the dirt, warmed just enough by the fire to be workable. Each sister turned the dirt to smother the last of the embers, then cut into the ground with their shovels.
“It don’t…” Apple Bloom sniffed. “Um, it don’t need to be too deep, does it? On account of Winona being so small.”
“Nah,” Applejack sighed. “Just deep enough that timberwolves won’t get to her.” Apple Bloom’s stomach roiled at the idea.
She hated this. She hated all of this. There was a gaping hole, an emptiness, where there had once been a bright spark of life. A part of her cut away. She had to force herself to keep digging.
“How do you get over it?” she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the shovel cutting into the dirt. “I mean, if I could know she was still out there, watching over me, it’d be all better, right? Like, maybe by putting her near Mom and Dad’s trees means she’ll be with them, too?”
Applejack dug several more scoops before she could answer.
“Do ya want pretty words, Bloom? To make ya feel better? Or do you want the truth?”
“I can’t have both?” she whimpered, hating how much like a foal she sounded.
“Maybe.” Applejack shrugged. “I don’t know. Some ponies might tell ya that. That she’s in some kinda afterlife. That she’s watching out for ya, that Mom and Dad are there too, and Grandpa Pear, and everypony else that’s passed. Is that what you want me to tell ya?”
“Are they?” Apple Bloom’s shovel bit deep into the dirt, her thrust powered by desperation.
“The truth is, I don’t know,” Applejack sighed, glancing over at the tree. “I wish I did.”
“No.” Apple Bloom was shaking. “No! That’s not okay! That’s not enough!” She threw down her shovel and rounded on her sister, her eyes blazing. “I hate it!”
Applejack wasn’t fazed. She glanced down at Bloom with all the wisdom of old grief in her green eyes.
“Eeyup,” she said. “I do too. But there’s nothing I can do to fix it. And for me, if it’s a choice between a comfortin’ lie, and a hard truth, I know what I’m always gonna pick.”
“Is this what you meant? Asking if I wanted pretty words, or the truth?”
Applejack nodded. She didn’t pause her own digging; Apple Bloom knew she always worked through her pain with physical labor. “I could tell ya pretty words, Bloom. Or you can face the hurt head on.”
“Maybe that’s easy for you!” Apple Bloom shrieked. It was just like this morning, at breakfast. Everypony was handling this better than she was, and it filled her with a hot, burning fury. “Yer the pony of honesty, after all. No platitudes for you! But we can’t all be a rock like you, AJ! Not everypony’s as strong, or as fearless, or as…”
She couldn’t see. She could barely breathe. She hated this. She hated all of this. She envied some of the ponies who would drink their cider until they couldn’t stand up any longer. She’d never seen the appeal before. But now?
“I ain’t strong, Bloom,” Applejack whispered.
“Horseapples,” Apple Bloom swore. Applejack looked up, eyes flashing, ready to scold her sister, but Apple Bloom saw the words die on her lips. “You know it. Don’t lie.” She didn’t want to look at her sister any longer, but there was still work to do. She picked up the shovel and slammed it into the dirt again, so hard the wooden handle splintered slightly. With a wrench driven by her fury, she ripped the dirt out of the ground hard enough to spray it into the air.
“Okay. I won’t.” Applejack sighed. “Maybe I’m handling all this better than you. Maybe not. You tell me what to say to make it better, Bloom, and I’ll try.”
“You mean you’ll feed me pretty words?” Apple Bloom sneered, and Applejack nodded. The anger flooded out of her, and she slumped against the shovel propped into the hole. “No. No, AJ. I don’t want pretty words.”
“Good girl,” Applejack said. She lifted one last shovelful out of the hole, and walked over to Apple Bloom. “The truth is, nopony knows what happens. And maybe it’s nothing. And maybe you need to be okay with that.” Apple Bloom looked up sharply. “But if it’s true, and there’s nothing after, that’s okay too.”
“How is that okay?” Apple Bloom shook as her sister wrapped her in a tight hug. “How is any of this worth it? What’s the whole point of life, if there’s nothing?”
“The point is, you make your own point,” Applejack said. “You decide what it all means. If it means nothing, then you give it meaning.”
“But my friend is dead!” Apple Bloom pointed a hoof at the limp bundle. “And her life meant nothing?”
“No, Bloom. Her life meant everything to you, to me. Her life is in our memories. The joy Winona shared with us. The pain. The beauty. Everything she gave us. That’s what she meant. And now you need to decide what that means for you.”
Apple Bloom stared up at her sister, who smiled sadly.
“If this is all there is,” she waved a hoof and took in everything, from the trees, to the skies, to the distant farmhouse, to her sister and the dead dog lying wrapped in a blanket at their hooves. “If this is all there is, I’m gonna make the most of it. I’m gonna love my family, my friends, my marefriend, as much as I can. And when I go, I’ll be happy that I lived a life of love.”
Apple Bloom stared at her, breathing hard. She thought about her friends. She thought about her family. She thought about her own relationship, and the sometimes sweet, sometimes silly pegasus she’d probably be crying on later. She sniffed, and nodded at Applejack.
“C’mon. Let’s get her in.”
The two ponies lifted the quilt reverently into the hole, setting it down. Silently they began pushing the dirt over the quilt. Each pile of dirt that sprayed down on the faded fabric was a knife in Apple Bloom’s chest. She tried not to think about it too hard.
Eventually there was nothing more than a mound of turned dirt and ashes. Apple Bloom smoothed it down lovingly with her hooves.
“Goodbye, Winona,” she whispered. “You were the best dog. I don’t know if you can hear me. If you can, remember we loved you. If not, I’ll remember you. I promise.” She glanced over at Applejack, whose smile was proud and sad. “It gets better, right?”
“Family helps,” Applejack admitted. “I don’t know if I coulda handled this as well if you weren’t here. Make sure that marefriend of yours treats you well, too.” Applejack gave a sardonic laugh, only partially strained. “If she’s anything like Dash, and we both know she is, she’ll have some stupid little present to try to cheer you up, like flowers or balloons or something. But her heart’ll be in the right place.”
“Is Dash coming over for you, too?” Apple Bloom asked, and Applejack nodded. “Good. Cuz you need to take care of yourself, too.”
“Thanks, Bloom. C’mon. Let’s go back home. They’ll be waiting for us. And you still have to say sorry to Mac and Granny.”
“I will.”
The two sisters trotted home. The hurt wasn’t gone. But at least they had each other. And when they reached the farmhouse, they also had a pair of uncomfortable looking pegasi, each holding a box of chocolates in their hooves.
“Why’re you here?”
The question broke Scootaloo out of her reverie. She glanced up from the café table she’d been staring at for the last half hour, straight into Sweetie Belle’s large, emerald eyes.
“Um, I was getting lunch?” Scootaloo couldn’t help but flutter her wings a bit in annoyance. Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes.
“Right. But for real, though?” Sweetie cocked her head to the side. “You’ve been sitting here for a while not eating lunch.”
“How do you…”
“Tomato soup isn’t supposed to have skin on it, Scoots.”
Scootaloo glanced down at her bowl, jiggling the spoon just enough to see the congealed layer of red skin floating on top. She made a disgusted face.
“Scootaloo…”
“I’m going to go, okay? I just wanted to wait to talk to Rainbow Dash first. She said she has a plan.”
“Rainbow has a plan?” Sweetie’s eyebrow raised skeptically, and Scootaloo scowled at her.
“Yeah, she does. And it’s going to be awesome.”
“I’m sure it will be, Scoots.” Sweetie Belle sighed.
“Besides, why aren’t you there?” Scootaloo was annoyed at the implication. How could anypony believe that Rainbow’s ideas were anything less than awesome?
“Maybe I wanted to give Bloom’s marefriend a chance to cheer her up first.” The slight sneer in Sweetie’s voice made them both flinch. “Sorry.”
“N-no, you’re right. I should…”
“No, I sh-shouldn’t have…”
Both friends stopped, looking at each other, before giving a weak laugh.
“I’ll stop by later, after you and Dash have had a chance to swoop in with your superior snuggles and comforting smooches.”
“Thanks,” Scootaloo said, idly stirring her congealing soup. It was something to do with her hooves, at least.
“Are you okay?” Sweetie leaned in close to Scootaloo, peering deep into her face. Scootaloo shrugged, averting her eyes.
“Fine, I guess,” Scootaloo mumbled as she stared at the table. “I mean, how do you… how can I… it’s not even…” she sighed and trailed off with a shrug.
“Yeah, I get it,” Sweetie Belle said, her shoulders slumping. She stood in silence, neither pony saying much. “Um, I’ll stop by later, I guess.” Finally she reached out and patted Scootaloo awkwardly on the back. “You’ll do fine. You’ll know just what to say to fix this, I’m sure.”
Sweetie turned to trot away, not seeing the look of frozen horror on Scootaloo’s face.
~ * ~ * ~
“T-they can fix it, right?” the young filly stammered, trembling in her aunt’s hooves. “Like, there’s a spell? Or a magic pill?” she fluttered her wings futilely.
“Oh.” Aunt Holiday’s eyes were large and full of tears. “Oh, you poor thing. I’m going to need you to be brave, now, Scootaloo. Like a big pony, okay?”
“B-but they’ve gotta fix it!” Scootaloo yelled. “I’m a pegasus, not some stupid earth…” she cut off abruptly, her eyes going wide with a whimper. “Aunt Holiday! I’m so…”
“Hush, Scoots,” Aunt Holiday pulled her tight in a hug. “You don’t need to apologize. I know you’re hurting right now and don’t mean anything by it.” She gently stroked her hoof down Scootaloo’s back.
“But they can, can’t they? Fix this?”
“You heard what the doctor said, Scootaloo.” Aunt Holiday’s voice was calm but firm. “You can’t hide from this. But you don’t have to face it alone.”
“What do I do?” Scootaloo hated how pathetic she sounded. How weak and small. The muscles in her wings hurt, like she’d been straining them for hours. “If we can’t fix it, what am I?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to answer, Scoots,” her aunt held her tight. “Sometimes there’s no quick fix. Sometimes there’s no easy answer, or words that make the hurt all go away. Sometimes it just takes time. And hugs. Lots and lots of hugs.”
Scootaloo buried her face in her aunt’s fur, shaking with sobs. Maybe she’d have to be a grown up later, but right now she didn’t want to deal with this. Right now she just wanted to cuddle in her aunt’s hooves.
~ * ~ * ~
Scootaloo was still lost in her memory when Rainbow Dash landed next to her.
“Hey kid,” Rainbow said, sounding morose.
Scootaloo surged to her hooves. “Dash! You’re here!” Congealed soup and memories were shoved aside as she hugged her adopted big sister. “So, do we have a plan?”
“Plan. Yeah.” Rainbow chuckled nervously. Scootaloo noticed she was carrying a bag from Bon Bon’s candy store. Scootaloo stared at it curiously. “Um, c’mon kid. We’ll talk as we head over to Sweet Apple Acres.”
“Good,” Scootaloo sighed in relief. She quickly fished some bits out of her saddlebag and dropped them on the table before standing to follow Rainbow. “I’ve been spinning my wheels all day. I just feel so helpless, you know? I feel like I need to be doing something.”
“Right,” Rainbow exhaled sharply, brushing a hoof through her mane. “Um, Scootaloo, you know grief is something that takes time, right? There’s no quick fix to this.”
“I know that!” Scootaloo shot back. “But I thought, I don’t know…” she trailed off, feeling silly as they trotted down Ponyville’s streets. It was a clear, cold day, the kind that usually had all the foals (and lots of the adults, too) out fooling around in the snow, building snow ponies, making snow angels, or even building snow forts to prepare for the inevitable snowball ambushes. Usually Scootaloo would have been right beside them, helping Rainbow prepare some sort of snow ambush, or maybe cajoling her marefriend inside for some hot cider and cuddles.
But today felt like a different sort of cold, at least for her. She looked around at the other ponies going about their day, chatting, laughing, greeting each other. She had to look away to stop from scowling at them all. “I thought that maybe you’d come up with something awesome.”
“You really trust me that much, huh kid?” Rainbow mused. “Okay.” She held out the bag she was holding under her wing, letting it open so Scootaloo could see inside.
“Chocolates? You got them chocolates?” Scootaloo didn’t even try to keep the skepticism out of her voice. “Really? I’ve been sitting around all day, waiting for some incredible plan on how we’re gonna help our marefriends through their grief, and the best you have to give me is two boxes of chocolates?”
Her voice was growing louder and more shrill, enough that some of the Ponyville residents were beginning to stare.
“Keep it down, would ya?” Rainbow scowled at Scootaloo. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?”
“Well, I didn’t,” Scootaloo accused, and Rainbow flinched.
“Right. Well, let’s get out of town and I'll tell you the whole plan, okay? Only you’ve gotta trust me.”
“If you say so.”
Scootaloo tried to lose herself in the scenery.
It only took them a few minutes to get out of town. Scootaloo could tell just how much Rainbow hated walking on the ground. She could see it in the way Rainbow’s wings kept twitching, the way she stepped lightly with each hoof, as if every step could be the beginning of a takeoff. It was an oddly kind gesture from the older pegasus, though Scootaloo was long past the point where she hated being reminded of what she couldn’t do.
“Okay, we’re out of town,” Scootaloo declared, though it was barely true. They were still in sight of most of the buildings, and Sweet Apple Acres was still hidden by the rolling hills and legions of bare apple trees. “Fill me in.”
“I will,” Rainbow said, but paused, hesitating as she looked up at the sky. Scootaloo waited impatiently. “Um.”
“You know, if you couldn’t come up with anything, you could have just told me, Dash,” Scootaloo sighed. “I wouldn’t have wasted…”
“It’s like this,” Rainbow suddenly interrupted. “I’m bad at mushy stuff, right? And since you’re cool just like me, sometimes you are too. It’s okay.”
“I guess,” Scootaloo narrowed her eyes, studying Rainbow’s distant gaze.
“We’re really bad at this kind of thing. Only, we’ve gotta do something, right?” Rainbow exhaled, shaking her head violently enough that her mane whipped about. “I hate seeing her hurt.”
Scootaloo swallowed hard. She knew how that felt. Her gut burned with helpless frustration. The last few weeks had been rough.
“So here’s the plan. We get them chocolates.”
“That’s lame.”
“I know it’s lame, Scoots. That’s the point.”
Scootaloo froze in her tracks, pawing at the snow on the road with one hoof. “Um, what?”
“It’s supposed to be lame, Scoots. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to show up. We’re going to give AJ and Bloom the chocolates. And they’re going to give us a look. You know, that look.”
“That look?” Scootaloo raised one eyebrow at Rainbow, who had started to blush.
“Yeah, that look. You know, the one that says—” she mimicked Applejack’s drawl, “—Sugarcube, that’s jest about the dumbest thing y’all have ever done. What’m I gunna do with you?” She returned to her normal voice. “That look.”
“Oh.” Scootaloo pondered hard. She knew that look. Apple Bloom had one too.
“But you know what?” Rainbow’s voice was distant, deep in thought. “Whenever she gives me that look, I think… maybe she’s not really annoyed at me. She gets that look in her eyes, and I see the…” her voice dropped, and Rainbow leaned in as if she were sharing a very embarrassing secret. “…I see the love, the affection.”
“So your plan is to annoy them into giving us the affection look?” Scootaloo didn’t quite get it.
“No. The plan is to be there with them.” Rainbow looked uncomfortable. “You know. For mushy stuff. Hugs and cuddles and crying and stuff. The chocolates will just make them remember how much they like us.”
“…you’re crazy.”
“I know, right?” Rainbow feathered her wings, a ghost of her usual cocky grin on her face. “It’s gonna work, Scootaloo. It’ll cheer them up a little. Um.” Rainbow stopped and turned to her. “We’re in for the long haul, kid. It’s gonna be a hard few days for them. But we got this, we’re awesome.”
Scootaloo pondered this for a moment, before nodding firmly. “Gimme one of those boxes.”
Author's Note
Personal story time!
This story was inspired by a real life story. Basically, my family's beloved kitty (who is an indoor kitty) got out one night. We didn't realize this until she'd been gone a few hours. It was past midnight, but I went outside and spent several hours with a flashlight, wandering around the frozen apartment complex we lived in, searching for our cat, and for her pawprints in the snow. The entire time, the worst case scenario played out in my head. Assuming I never found her, what did I tell my children? How did I explain death to them? How did I help them deal with loss and grief, especially when I'm not even sure myself? I didn't find her that night, and went to bed sleepless.
That story has a happy ending; my wife found Cat the next morning, huddled in a neighbor's stair well, perfectly fine and meowing like the idiot cat she is.
