Despite 13%, They are 50%

Fluttershy sighed in contentment as she laid on her couch, looking around happily as her various animals fed upon their own grubs. Her sights landed upon one of her bunnies, a special one by the name of Angel.

The usually rowdy and difficult bunny was in an exceptionally good mood, allowing Fluttershy a chance to relax. After her unexpectedly lengthier stay in Canterlot, she had to catch up on her chores. It turned out to be quite little, thanks to Angel actually stepping in to replace her absent helper’s role. She didn’t want to sound speciesist, especially given the nature of her job, but she came to the conclusion that her helper was a changeling all along.

Fluttershy couldn’t help but think about the changelings again; the fact that the last few days was filled with nothing but dealing with all sorts of problems related to them didn’t help. The changelings were scary and fearsome when they wanted to be, but in all honesty, they also could be really adorable when they wanted to. Chrysalis’ changelings were fearsome, but the changelings of Canterlot were mostly similar to ponies in stature and build. She chalked it up to soldiers being scary, like the offensive version of a butterfly’s eyespots. They could change their bodies at will, after all.

Still, Fluttershy couldn’t help but shake that something was off. She was as biased to all living beings as anyone could get, and it made how the changelings were so eager to leave all the more confusing. Shouldn’t changelings fight to stay because ponies are their main source of food?

Theories and thoughts swirled over Fluttershy’s mind, but it was quickly cut off by a certain bunny poking at her nose. Angel gestured to the front door, where a certain unique set of hooves rapped.

*Knock knock knock*

Fluttershy perked up, her ears swiveled around to note the shuffling of a saddle-bag. It was easy to guess who that was. Trotting to the door, she greeted the mare in question with as much enthusiasm her own self would allow. “Good afternoon Zecora, what can I… do… Oh my!”

“Afternoon as well, my buttery friend. I am currently sporting scars I am hoping you could mend,” Zecora said coolly, even with her wavering voice.

Fluttershy put a hoof to cover her gaping mouth at the sight. Three large gashes trailed from Zecora’s body all the way to her flanks, bleeding profusely as they streamed angry trails of red.

With a shift in demeanor, Fluttershy quickly laid the zebra on her couch, zipped around her house as she collected medical equipment, and went to work at speeds even Rainbow Dash could only dream of achieving. Zecora said nothing as she let her friend do her work.

Zecora would routinely come to Fluttershy for help, and the butter mare would enter a sort of trance state as she worked. This time however, that trance would be broken early as the last roll of her bandages ran out, covering only half of what should’ve been necessary to cover up.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry Zecora, but it seems like I can’t completely cover your injuries up,” Fluttershy apologized meekly, her courage slowly fading with her trance.

“Worry not, my pal Fluttershy, for I greatly appreciate your assistance. And yes, it was Timberwolves, since we’re doing the routine song and dance,” Zecora explained.

“What happened, exactly? I thought you had renewed your wards? Don’t you have your own first aid back home?” Fluttershy asked.

“While I did renew it days ago, it was apparently a no-go,” Zecora shrugged. “My bandages were all used up in a great fall. Since we both ran out of medicals, would you accompany me to the hospital?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” Fluttershy accepted. “Although, are you sure you can already walk around? The scars are more gruesome than dangerous, but I wouldn’t walk on it for a few hours.”

“It’s of no worry, my dear pegasus mare. This much pain I can easily bear.” Fluttershy just nodded as they both walked out of her house, into the town proper.

~~~~~~

“Fluttershy dear, there is an answer I seek. Have the medical courier give you as much of a peek?” Zecora started.

“According to Angel, no he didn’t,” Fluttershy answered, a hoof on her chin. “He does work in the hospital, maybe the whole changeling revelation made the hospital busy?”

Zecora shook her head. “To that I have doubts aplenty. Yesterday I was in town, it was all but empty. To fill the hospital’s capacity, one needs to drain the entire city.”

Fluttershy only hummed in response. Silence settled between them as they passed the halfway mark of their trek: the marketplace. The place itself was crowded, but a lot of stall sellers were absent that day. Those who still set up shop were also selling much less than they usually would. Bits were still exchanged, but with different varieties appearing more often.

The two passed a particular stall that had never been empty for at least several decades. “Quite the irregular occurrence indeed, for the Apple family to not sell their famous apple breed,” Zecora noted.

Fluttershy folded her ears and shrunk her already timid posture. Zecora noted the change in demeanor, connected two-and-two, and kept her mouth shut. The question could wait until she was more comfortable to answer, which was anywhere but the middle of a busy street.

Silence settled once more as the two mares eventually reached their destination. In a glance, the hospital was the same sterile white building everypony both loved and hated. As they entered the main entrance, however, it was clear from the dirty floors and red-eyed hospital staff that they were worse for wear. The place wasn’t exactly packed, but Fluttershy figured that the main body counts were in their respective rooms instead of the lobby.

A unicorn doctor sporting an absolutely drenched lab coat galloped from one side of the building to the other. “Umm, excuse-” Fluttershy started, only to be wholly ignored by the doctor. Instead of chasing him, Zecora ushered her to a cream-coloured receptionist mare returning to her post on the lobby’s counter.

“Umm, excuse me?” Fluttershy called.

The receptionist looked up from her desk and groaned under the weight of a thousand sleepless nights. “Yeeeah?”

Both Fluttershy and Zecora winced. “You are too tired and blue. What horror has befell upon you?” Zecora asked.

The mare sobbed once, before slamming her head back to the desk. “Mrh… 90% of staff gone… triple shifts… tired…” She then continued in unintelligible mumbles.

“Oh, umm… well, hang in there?” Fluttershy weakly offered, responded with a single nod. She then remembered a tangent from her previous thoughts back home. “Umm, if you don’t mind me asking, was it the changelings?”

The mare nodded. “All of them… Ponies freaked out, stomped under stampedes… Hospital half-full, but 10% staff… We’re all going to die with only two hours of sleep per day...” she ended with a single sob. “Anyways… Why are you two here again?”

“To procure medical equipment will be our main intent. We hope there are supplies eligible to lend,” Zecora answered. Fluttershy followed with a nod as she passed over her regular list.

The receptionist swapped hats to function as an apothecary, before checking over the shopping list. She worked quietly as piles of first aid equipment and tools slowly filled Zecora’s saddlebags. Fluttershy had done enough of the same routine to notice several items that were given less than requested, or outright unavailable.

The mare placed the last of the items into the saddlebags before she collapsed back to her haunches with a relieving sigh. “That’s all we can give. Some items… currently not for sale, like sterile needles. Uhh, supply is iffy, so prices went up. The list’s total is 700 bits, but now it’s 1500 bits plus discounts, and all that...” She passed over Fluttershy’s shopping list, before actually collapsing with a great big snore.

Fluttershy and Zecora looked at each other, before placing a note to send the bill to Everfree Protection Commission. They left soon after with their purchase in tow.

~~~~~~

The two walked back into the Edges of Everfree in calm tranquility. Just outside of town, however, they spotted a group of changelings, overseen by a royal guard, arguing with a certain brown earth pony mare with glasses.

Fluttershy was reminded once more of the present situation. The hospital was woefully understaffed after the changelings left, which in a morbid sort of hindsight, could be expected. Any position in the hospital can be classified as thankful jobs. Ponies love attractive nurses and doctors, or at the very least grateful to them. Surely changelings would find massive amounts of edible emotions in such places.

An understanding hum escaped Fluttershy’s lips, catching the attention of her zebra friend. “I take it you have something in your mind. If you were to tell, it would be plenty kind,” Zecora said.

Getting caught, Fluttershy retreated behind her mane, but spoke up nonetheless. “I- I’m just thinking…” she restored her posture to better communicate. “Ponies are grateful for their doctors and nurses. If a lot of them were changelings… What would happen then? What do you think of them, Zecora?”

“The changelings are deceptive without jest, but admittedly my stance is neutral at best.” Zecora shrugged. “The loss of bandages will be quite the inconvenience, but the Everfree provides me with materials and sustenance. Forgive me for taking a blunt turn, but Equestrian healthcare is not my concern.” She switched her gaze to Fluttershy. “Is something troubling you, eating your heart through?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I don’t know what to think of the changelings,” Fluttershy admitted. “They aren’t exactly… evil, but their first impressions weren't good at all. Then again, that was Chrysalis only. But if they are that influential in society, it feels like they’re leaving us to die.”

The two stopped in front of Fluttershy’s house, where the animals greeted them with open appendages. The rabbits opened the door for them, while the birds carried Zecora’s saddlebags inside.

Zecora put a hoof on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “We can talk about this if you so desire, and I shall lend you an ear and a shoulder.” The butter mare just smiled and went for the tea boiler as she accepted her proposal.

Pinkie took her time hopping around Ponyville before actually returning back to Sugarcube Corner. While her workplace-slash-living quarters was as cheerful as ever, the same couldn’t be said for a lot of buildings in Ponyville. Nearly all buildings have some sort of damage marks on them, and one out of five would be in need of dire repairs.

It wasn’t the buildings that worried Pinkie, however; it was the ponies. Ponyville was notorious for monthly damages from various Everfree threats, the Elements’ shenanigans, and other cosmic happenings that would somehow occur in the quaint little town. It was usually the townsponies who would actively help restore broken buildings, but she found barely any of them when she pronked around the town that day.

On a whim, Pinkie pulled her detective hat and bubble pipe. She knew everypony in Ponyville, and to see almost 20% of them turning out to be changelings, based on which houses were abandoned, brought her puffy mane down to half-mast.

Pinkie eventually arrived at Sugarcube Corner. Opening the shop’s front door, Pinkie was greeted by a familiar blue mare. “Welcome to Sugarcube- oh! Pinkie! You’re finally here!” Mrs. Cake met her halfway and hugged her in a squeeze.

“Hello, Mrs. Cake! Sorry for not returning sooner, and without a letter or anything too. You see, there was-”

Mrs. Cake cut off Pinkie’s imminent spiel. “Yes, yes, everything that happened in Canterlot, I know. Now, while I’m glad that you’re here and all, I’m afraid that since everything that happened, we added several ground rules.” She pointed to Pinkie’s chest. “No more wasting foodstuff, not even if you’re able to pay for it.”

“Okay,” Pinkie answered simply with a small, neutral smile.

Mrs. Cake blinked. She looked at Pinkie, waiting for a protest that never came. She looked at the pink mare’s hair, only slightly deflated instead of full-blown straight. She even looked around, waiting for something, anything that could’ve been a sign of apocalypse. Finally assured that the world wasn’t going to end, Mrs. Cake coughed into her hoof and awkwardly looked at Pinkie. “You’re… not mad?”

Pinkie held her smile as she shook her head. “That was one time, and before the boo boo hit the blender. Even I know when things are dire, Mrs. Cake.”

Mrs. Cake sighed in huge relief as she hugged Pinkie once more. “Thank you so much for understanding. Sometimes you are too unpredictable, even for us. You don’t know how relieved I am to see that you’re not mad.”

“Oh silly filly, you know I’m only upset when ponies are NOT being understanding, to themselves or otherwise.” Pinkie’s ears twitched as a muted cry from upstairs howled through the building, followed by a deep groan. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to both rescue your husband and invent a new way to calm the two little Cakes down without bags of flour.”

Pinkie leaped from her position, upwards into a trapdoor conveniently placed on the ceiling, which rotated around until it settled back to normal. Mrs. Cake stared at her ceiling for a while, before shaking her head with a snort. “Oh Pinkie, never change,” she muttered as she wondered how in the world did the pink mare even install such things without her or her husband’s knowledge.

~~~~~~

An alarm rang, signalling a certain pony’s lunch break.

Pinkie sighed as she slumped onto her haunches. The last few days were horrendous in it’s silence. Mrs. Cake had reminded her to not be wasteful with ingredients, and she didn’t. She made everything with measurements up to the thousandth of a milligram accurate, yet supplies would still run out regardless.

Even with the whole changeling revelation forcing them to increase prices due to high ingredient prices, Sugarcube Corner initially retained nearly all of their demand. They kept their strong business up to day three of Pinkie’s return, when business finally ground into a screeching halt.

They ran out of everything.

It got so bad that on this one particular day, Pinkie got no customers. She had to stand in the hollow shell of a store alone, sometimes for hours on end. Ponies would come in hopeful and come out disappointed. Of course that would be the case if the only thing they were selling were dry, yeastless bread and plain milkshake. With Mr. Cake out to search for supplies, and Mrs. Cake actively experimenting with ingredient-conservative recipes, she had to both babysit and manage the restaurant/bakery alone with no time to walk around town. For an active, extrovert party pony such as her, it was soul crushing.

Pinkie strode to the back kitchens, where an exhausted Mrs. Cake stood in front of her creation: a stack of savory roti prata made to resemble pastry. “Oh, Pinkie. Is your time up? Here, can you try these? I think I’ve gotten the recipe down pat,” the bakerspony offered.

“Oohh, Hindi cuisine!” Pinkie grabbed a stack and munched the roti down. “Mmm, tough but soft, delicious. How did you make it?”

“Oh, just some flour, water, salt, and a bit of mushroom-based umami flavouring. I’ve written the recipe down, you can look at it later,” Mrs. Cake answered. She looked at Pinkie with a thoughtful gaze as she mulled over something that she feared would be needed.

Pinkie noticed Mrs. Cake’s look. “Hmm? What’s wrong?”

Mrs. Cake rubbed the back of her head, looking away as she spoke. “Well, Pinkie. I’ve been thinking for a bit now. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but well… you might need to start looking for other jobs now.” She flinched hard as Pinkie’s ears slammed to the side of her head, mane crashing down the side of her head as it went fully straight. The party pony lost a lot of her coat colour

“WHAT?! B- but Mrs. Cake, I haven’t been doing anything wrong! I stood my ground on that counter even when my Pinkie Sense went all haywire telling that one of my friends had gotten themselves in a big rut! Wh- what did I do to get fired?!” Pinkie askcreamed, shaking Mrs. Cake’s shoulders.

“N- no, Pinkie, you haven’t done anything wrong!” Mrs. Cake hastily rectified. “In fact, you’re not getting fired at all!”

Pinkie’s colours returned as her mouth made an “o” shape, but her mane didn’t restore back to it’s glorious puffiness. “...it’s because we’re getting little orders for anything, isn’t it?” Pinkie guessed, the accuracy of which made Mrs. Cake wince.

“Y- yes, right on the nail there, Pinkie. I’m so sorry, but if this keeps up, we will have to close up shop. Perhaps not immediately, but definitely in the next few weeks.” Mrs. Cake shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, Pinkie, I love my job with all my passion, but ultimately a business is all about profits. We can’t have profit if we can’t produce anything. My husband had to search far and wide to nearby towns just to find flour or sugar, and it’s just not sustainable.”

“But how are you going to make money without Sugarcube Corner?” Pinkie asked.

“We’ll probably move into one of the larger cities. Ponies left and right are abandoning small towns, and that includes Ponyville. I- I don’t know what we’ll do, but soon we will have to say goodbye. I’m sorry, Pinkie, but that’s just how it is,” Mrs. Cake said, downtrodden.

Pinkie sagged even more. Her entire cooking skills, reputation as party mare, and even her entire career, was made from Sugarcube Corner and the Cakes. They helped each other grow as both a business and as ponies, boosted especially by Pinkie’s status as an Element. They were like family to each other, but times like those reminded them both that they were ultimately nothing but employer and employee.

“I understand,” Pinkie finally said.

“I’m so sorry for the news-”

“No, Mrs. Cake, I get it. These are turbulent times, and not everypony can hope for their life to continue uninterrupted. Laughter can solve many things, but it won’t solve the problems Equestria has now. At least, not yet...” Pinkie shook her head.

Mrs. Cake was shocked by the party pony’s rare bout of maturity. “Pinkie, I-”

“...which is why we're going to spend our last days together in fun!” Pinkie suddenly exploded in confetti. “Maybe we don’t have the food for it, but I can definitely arrange some games for us. Oh, and let’s not forget the two little Cakes, I can play with them later on, too.” She looked at the surprised Mrs. Cake. “Hey, just because we’re separating someday doesn’t mean we can’t have our last memories together in a while be a happy one!” Pinkie said, grinning. She extended a hoof to the baker mare. “Will you help me make those memories fun?”

Mrs. Cake let out a small chuckle as she rubbed her watery eyes clean. It turned into a full-blown laughter as she took Pinkie’s hoof. “Oh, Pinkie. You really know how to make ponies feel better. It’s on, then! I won’t lose on Twister this time!”

Rarity swept the last of the dust piles into the dust bin and dumped it all out, ending her two-days long cleaning spree. “Whew! Finally, all is done and ready to shine. Once more, Carousel Boutique is the place where everything is chic, unique, and magnifique!” she bellowed in satisfaction, before promptly collapsing on the couch.

The entire cleaning process wasn’t exactly easy. The Liquid Rainbow staining her roof had crusted, needing manual hard scrubbing before they would flake off. Since there weren’t any builders up for work, Rarity had to board it up by herself. The interior was caked in burnt tree sap, most likely from one of her little sister’s endeavours. She wasn’t exactly a prissy-pants, but she would rather not exhaust herself doing menial tasks when she could exhaust herself doing productive things like sewing and dressmaking.

Rarity eventually had enough of sitting down and trotted over to the window. She magically gripped the “‘closed’ sign and turned it to ‘open’. “Ahah, we are back for business!”

Like clockwork, the announcement turned ponies’ heads straight towards the boutique. Slowly, an entire crowd amassed itself, walking towards it at a slow, deliberate pace. Rarity furrowed her eyebrows at the sight, sweat forming on her forehead.

The crowd suddenly snapped. Everypony galloped towards the boutique, crashing through the front door and pouring in like a waterfall. Rarity jerked back and hid behind a ponnequin as the crowd stumbled upon itself.

“Rarity! I want to cancel my orders!”

“I want my money back, I need it!”

“Please, let me cancel my order and return my money!”

A shrill scream pierced through as the crowd hunted the fashionista down for refunds. Rarity leaped and weaved around her boutique like an experienced trapeze climber, bounding up and over her stuff while the crowd pushed through it. Still, the numbers of the crowd won out against the fashionista’s one individual.

Rarity found herself confused and afraid of the crowd that closed in on her as her back finally touched a corner. Waiting for the pounce that never came, her fear dissipated as bewildered anger took over her emotions.

“Would you all kindly SHUT! UP!” Rarity screamed, shutting the crowd up. “You! Tell me, what is going on here,” she ordered the first pony in line.

“Umm, I wanted to request a refund. I kind of need the money,” that pony confessed.

Rarity tsked. “I’ll assume the reasoning is similar for the other of you?” The crowd nodded in unison.

Rarity took a deep breath and stood up tall with her nose poking up the air. “Listen up, everypony! All of you crude bunch came in frightening me, wrecking through my shop, and backing me into a corner, all for a refund? I won’t give you brutish horde a single bit from my wallet! I have ordered the exact amount of materials for each and every of your orders, and I will make them to completion. What you order is what you get, and no refunds! Hmph!”

Rarity turned and stomped into a nearby room, slamming the door closed in a dramatic display of irritation. The crowd sighed, groaned, and ‘aww’ed in disappointment as they slowly dispersed out of her shop. She waited a bit longer to ensure every last one of them had left, before exiting the storage closet and collapsing in exhaustion.

“Oh Celestia, that was not what I needed at all,” Rarity grumbled as she clutched her head. Moving herself onto her trusty couch, she laid there for what felt like hours, letting her thoughts stew in her mind.

Refund requests were not something Rarity ever really got, at all. The few cases where refunds were asked - or rather, offered - was mostly from her side, with her not having enough materials or time to finish an order. She wasn’t lying when she said that everypony’s orders’ materials had been stocked up and ready to sew. One problem was the fact that she literally hasn't made much progress in any of them, and while it was barely possible to finish them all on time, it would take days of 24-hours work. Not to mention, delivering them to ponies that might not even want them anymore anyways would certainly be a fun experience. On the other hoof, she really wanted to finish them all on time just to be productively spiteful.

Rarity sighed and picked herself up from her couch, trudging over to her trusty sewing machine. “If there’s anything I will NOT do, it is to skimp on my work!” She leaned over to the window next to her, overlooking the town square where ponies mingle with noticeable depression. “Still…” she trailed off.

Sure, her customers demanded refunds not because of her work quality, but the mere fact that they did was concerning. Yes, the fate of an entire country was far more important than some clothing business that was barely essential to society at large, but this is her business at stake, for Celestia’s sake! Her entire lifeline! All crashing down due to some changeling attack and whatever that stuff about them mingling in pony society for years. Why couldn’t those buggy bastards just stick it up their own flanks?

Rarity was panting after she finished her internal rant. Blushing from her own embarrassing display of external stiffness, she shook the anger out of her head. The entire changeling thing could wait; there were orders to sew, and dresses to make.

She magicked a thread into her sewing machine and began working.

~~~~~~

Rarity hung the last of her dresses into a rack wagon, while loose strands sprung from her curly indigo mane. She turned to her little sister, who was already bouncing on her hooves wanting to get out of the house. “Sweetie dear, would you please deliver these dresses off to the ponies in the list?”

“Aww, but I’m going to play with the crusaders today. No offense, but you have been saying ‘next time’ for a whole week!” Sweetie whined.

“I know darling, but I’m sorry. This is important, and I am severely exhausted. Please Sweetie, I’ll do anything to make it up to you next time. Anything!” Rarity pleaded.

Sweetie’s eyes brightened. “Anything? Anything anything?”

“Anything. Even if you want me to- to- to-” Rarity shuddered, bit her lip, and gulped hard. “C- Cutie Marks Crusaders, Honey Collectors… yay?”

Sweetie gasped and launched herself, hugging her sister. “Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou so much! We had been wanting to do that for months!” The filly then attached herself to the wagon. “You won’t regret this, I promise!” She took off with a big cloud of upkicked dust.

Rarity plopped down onto her couch and blew her mane out of her eyes. She took the chance to take stock of her store’s condition: An entire whirlwind of fabric mess covered the entire sewing room and half of the shop-display end of the building. Several ponnequins were toppled onto the floor, one complete with a half-made dress.

What really pushed Rarity to her frustration was not the mess, however, as a dirty store can always be cleaned, and wasted fabrics can always be turned into cleaning rags. Instead, it was the rows of dresses hanging limply across the store, collecting dust.

Even on slow days, at least one pony would buy a single ribbon or bowtie from her. During the past week, there literally zero customers, not even window-shoppers. The only ponies that came were those asking for refunds. Even when she felt somewhat guilty for it, Rarity made it clear that she wouldn’t return anypony’s money back.

Those few interactions brought her spirits down hard. She was a top fashionista of Equestria, capable of sewing dresses and outfits that even the high-strung Canterlot nobles would praise with fervor. But what good would a fashionista’s skill set do when the entire industry itself collapsed? If only everypony needs clothes 24/7, but that was wishful thinking.

“Ugh, sitting here alone wallowing in my sorrows won’t do me any good,” Rarity mumbled to herself. She looked to the open front door and decided that a breath of fresh air was in order-

Rarity stared at her own reflection in a wall mirror. “Oh dear. I guess fresh air will have to wait.”

~~~~~~

30 minutes later, Rarity found herself under the stinging high noon sun, walking in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres. With her mind freshened up, she recalled back at how the changelings’ revelations made the industry she worked for a low-priority backburner project. She was able to afford the inflating prices of food thanks to her admittedly large amount of fortune, but it wasn’t as if it’s limited.

Her anger to the entire species of changelings diminished seeing the rows of apple trees. The pill was hard, but necessary to swallow: like it or not, her friend was proven to be a changeling all along. Her friend who was missing and still not found. Hopefully, the royal guards would find Applejack alive and in condition to answer the growing number of questions she had for her.

“Still, changelings infiltrated a lot of important positions,” Rarity mumbled to herself. The fact that changelings destroyed Equestria by virtue of their discovery both terrified and angered her. How long had it been going? Were ponies really that gullible, or was it the changeling’s superior espionage?

Rarity shuddered. Both scenarios were equally terrifying.

She shook her head. No. I am out here to sniff apples, not argue to myself about changelings, Rarity thought.

Further into the farm, Rarity was greeted with the sight of ponies going to and fro. She recognized most of them: Mayor Mare, Thunderlane, Davenport from Quills and Sofas, Roseluck of the Flower Ponies, even Aloe from the Spa, and much more. Around fifty ponies, all tending to apple trees that had barely any apples at all.

Her first thought was to hide, since everypony in cahoots with the Apples would most likely be changelings. Rarity then reminded herself that Applejack was a changeling, which admittedly didn’t do much to quell the growing confusion in her regarding how she should view the changelings as. This growing confusion prompted her to sit on a nearby pile of straw bales and collect her thoughts.

A groan escaped her as the scorching sun stung her eyes like bees. In passionate anger, Rarity ripped a chunk of straw and brought the full wrath of her magic down onto it. The chunk strands weaved and tied together as she slowly worked on… anything really, as long as it would provide shade.

So lost in her craft, Rarity didn’t notice her sister and a group of ponies approaching her.

“Hello Rarity! What are you doing here?” Sweetie asked.

Rarity awakened from her focus to see the Crusaders and a grey mare she barely recognized standing in front of her, who was eyeing the straw chunk in her grasp in silence. “N- nothing at all, really, just thinking about Applejack.” Her eyes widened slightly seeing Apple Bloom in all her glory. “Come to think of it, what are you all doing here? And no offense, Apple Bloom, but aren’t you an Apple? How can you be here?”

“Ah asked Granny fer a part of th’ orchard, since Ah’m an Apple as any other ev’n when Ah’m adopted, an’ she gave a third of th’ orchard ta us. May’r Mare thought it’ll be good fer ponies t’ try an’ grow them apple trees ourselves. Applejack made ‘em grow fruit weekly, but we ain’t found th’ secret formula yet, an’ Granny left w’thout tellin’ us how exactly did they treat them apple trees,” Apple Bloom explained.

“Wait, you’re adopted? So, you’re a pony? Did you know of the Apples being a changeling all along?” Rarity asked.

“Eeyup! They taught me a whole barn loads of tricks and all, like how ta keep secrets, how ta act like an impostor, an’ how ta have confident half-truths,” Apple Bloom said with a puffed chest.

“It’s true, Rarity. You have to see it for yourself, Apple Bloom was awesome back at the wedding!” Scootaloo chimed in.

“She acted like a changeling stuck in her disguise, and wheeled the two of us into a walk-in fridge on the other side of the wedding building! It was scary, but exhilarating!” Sweetie finished.

“Umm… good for you?” Rarity stared at the Crusaders in confused awe. It should’ve been with no doubt that the story was exaggerated, but she knew those three had done more than a few dangerous stunts in the past. She filed it for later, instead choosing to focus more on the farm filly. “Umm, Apple Bloom? What are you going to do now? I mean, your family are all settling on the north of Canterlot. What if they leave, like the treaty said?”

Apple Bloom waved a hoof. “They told me that they already planned ev’rything an’ all,” she answered dismissively. “Anyways, can we have them straw bales yer guardin’? We’re makin’ a mighty tall straw fort!”

“Oh, sure. I wasn't guarding them from anypony, actually.” Rarity scooted over to let the fillies do their own thing. She noticed the other mare still staying silent with her gaze trained on the pile of straw still held in her magic. A quick glance revealed that she had actually made a rough hat of sorts.

Glancing back to the mare, she finally caught the name that had been eluding her. “Hello? Miss Golden Spoon? Is there something I can do for you?”

Golden Spoon snapped from her own reverie with an uncharacteristic yelp, before raising her snout up high into the air with a harrumph. “Ah, yes. It is quite hot right here. I might be willing to drop down and work in similar fashion as my ancestors from time to time, but that does not mean the sun should outright fry those who are working below it. If only there is a cheap, disposable option to shade myself from the heat…” She stared at the hat with a longing expression.

Rarity stared at Golden, confused beyond all mortal comprehension. “...heh?”

Golden deadpanned. “Me need hat. 5 bits. Agree?”

The change in tone launched Rarity’s state of confusion into the ethereal realms. All she could manage was a weak nod as she lowered the hat onto Golden’s head. The mare smiled in response and hoofed her 5 bits before walking away.

Rarity looked back and forth between Golden and the money, and then eventually to the sweating ponies all over the farm.

“IDEAAA!!!”