Applejack's eyes shot open as she woke up from her nap. The ground under her was uncomfortable, rocks digging in her back. All she could see for miles were dark trees, some dying and decaying. Their leaves quietly rustled in the wind. Enough light from the overcast sky filtered in through the gaps between the tall trees, but not enough to see much ahead.

She didn't know when she had entered the forest. She'd been walking for so long that she didn't remember where she was even going anymore. Her hooves were aching from their overuse, but she pushed herself up off the ground anyway. Her body screamed in protest, her knees buckling slightly as she stood up. She stretched her body before she began walking again.

The path that she had been following had long since ended. She felt like she was wandering aimlessly, constantly walking in circles even if she never turned. The occasional critter approached her wearily, some of them skittering away when she noticed them and others running between her legs. She ignored them beyond a simple glance, intent on reaching her goal. Whatever it was.

The trees seemed to darken the further she got in the forest, less and less leaves on them with each ones she passed. The trunks were hollow, frail and barely recognizable as wood. The blowing wind seemed to get louder, a high pitched wail that put her on edge. Her hooves hit the ground quicker, the dirt and rocks crunching beneath them.

Applejack felt a pair of eyes on her in the distance, though whether it was an animal or a pony had remained to be determined. Her breathing quickened when she noticed them.

She saw a flash of orange in the distance and her heart momentarily stopped. She wasn't alone. After moving a few more feet she saw it again, this time able to tell it was a mane. It looked strikingly familiar, but she couldn't put her hoof on it-

It was Buttercup.

There was no way it wasn't her. They had the exact same mane, even down to the curls. Applejack felt her chest heave as she took this in. Had she just imagined it? Her mother had been dead for years, there was no way she was hidden in this forest. But it looked just like her. She had to reach her.

Applejack took a few deep breaths before beginning to trot towards where she saw her mother. The figure had since disappeared, but that didn't deter her. She had to get to her, she had to get this one last chance for closure. She peered into the trees, trying to see more than a few feet ahead of her.

"Applejack?"

The voice made her stop in her tracks, causing her to tumble to the ground. She skidded forward, scratching up her knees and muzzle. She felt her heart simultaneously fill and break at the sound of Buttercup calling her name. She hadn't seen her in so long. The memories that had faded over time began coming back to her. Times when Buttercup and Bright Mac were playing with their kids, or teaching them how to buck trees, or even just those serene moments where they sat by the fire, more warmth coming from the fact that they were together than the flames could ever provide.

Applejack's vision went misty as she quickly stood up. She hastily wiped her eyes, trying to stop herself from crying before it was too late. This was her last chance to see her mother and she wasn't going to waste it.

She began to gallop with reckless abandon as the voice called out to her again. It was further away this time. The trees blurred together as she rushed past them. When the voice came again from her right she made a hasty turn, nearly falling over as she ran deeper into the trees.

Her breaths came in quick bursts, her body burning from the overexertion. No matter how fast she galloped the voice was always further away. But she couldn't give up. Not now, not ever. The growing darkness did nothing to stop her.

Applejack's pace slowed to a trot as she had to catch her breath. Without the thought of reaching her mother at the forefront of her mind, she realized that there was next to no light this deep in the forest. She could hear tapping against the ground, and quiet growling in the distance from a timberwolf. The rustling of the leaves became even louder until they nearly drowned out her mother's voice.

The yells were becoming fewer and further between.

With newfound determination, Applejack began galloping once more, throwing all caution to the wind. She didn't care that the trees had begun looking identical, or that she was geting closer to complete and utter darkness. Nothing mattered to her except getting to her mother.

As the tapping became a high-pitched scraping, and the howling wind picked up until it was thunderous, Buttercup's voice became lost in the chaos. The air was becoming harder to breathe as Applejack pushed herself to her limit. She was so close now.

She came to a stop when she reached the last place she had heard her mother.

There was nopony there.

She stood there, tethered in place. This was impossible. She had heard her mother, she had even seen her. There was no way she wasn't there. She fell to her haunches and just sat there, staring at the empty space where her mother should have been.

She should've been holding Buttercup right now, being told that everything was going to be ok. But it had been ripped away from her just like it had all those years ago. She didn't dare cry. She felt emotionless, like the last remains of her heart had been torn out. She stood up and turned around, trotting away.

It was then that she realized that she didn't know where she was. There was no more light, no way of seeing anything. It was all black.

Applejack was lost and alone in the middle of a forest, one that was populated by countless dangerous animals that would be able to rip her to shreds if they wanted to. She had no idea how to get out. The only things that surrounded her were the smothering abyss and the animals that watched her from within it.

She continued trotting ahead. Somehow, she knew she would end up here again. She didn't know when, but it was a certainty. She would always be chasing something that wasn't there, no matter how many times it slipped out of her grasp.

Author's Note