Chasing the Sky

by SnowOriole

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Romance, Slice of Life, Human, Applejack
Length: 74105

Rainbow Dash is soaring ever high, achieving the dreams she's always wished for, catching starlight in her bare palms. As for Applejack? She's only ever been in one place; watching her from where she stands rooted to the ground.

Ah, the last year of high school, when students start pondering their futures and similar existential crises. 17-year-old Applejack has... other problems. She's a long way from home, for one, and she knows home is the only place she's going back to after high school in the big city. Applejack is okay with this, but when she sees Rainbow Dash, soaring ever high, achieving her dreams, that doesn't stop her from wondering what it's like to fly.

Oh, and she's also in love with Rainbow, who's leaving the country in less than a year. That too.

~~~
Now with a new cover drawn by me!
Rated Teen for mild profanity, instances of underage drinking, and a couple suggestive jokes/moments.

Published 2023-07-03 12:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-12-30 08:25:16 UTC

Prologue

~~~

Whenever she closes her eyes, she dreams of stars.

Applejack didn't care much for stars before. They were pretty, sure, glittering pinpricks that twinkled on the blanket of the countryside night. But when she had jobs to do outside of the farmhouse at night, stars really didn't provide much; compared to the glow of the full moon, or the steady flickering of oil lamps, stars might as well be nothing. In the city, this was truer than ever: even when the brightest star shone its hardest and broke through the haze of the dazzling electric sky, there was only ever one of it, and any illumination it might have provided in the brief period it could be seen was insignificant against everything else that could shine and would shine for perennity.

Rainbow Dash likes stars. Unlike Applejack, she has never grown up under a star-covered sky, which might be why she gets so darn worked up when she spies one in the foggy sky of Canterlot. Rainbow is a girl who's grown up in the big city and belongs in the big city. Her naturally brown hair is dyed six different colours, and her naturally blue eyes are tinted rose by lenses. She laughs loud and runs fast and always wants to be having fun. She laughs in the same way, when they're both waiting for the bus after dark and she, rocking back and forth on the bench they're sitting on, jabs an imperious finger at a lone star in the sky.

"Someday, I'm going to be flying amongst them," she says. Applejack doesn't really know what she means, until she does.

When they are fourteen, idling away time in a classroom waiting for lessons to start, Rainbow Dash tells her that she wants to be a pilot. An aerobatic pilot, she says, and she wants to join the national team, the Wonderbolts, and travel the world performing with them. Applejack laughs at her at first, thinking that it's an ambition so outlandish it couldn't possibly be anything but a joke. It was the kind of dream job that only a bright-eyed six-year-old could have, the kind to be outgrown with age and cast aside in favour of a sensible job that could make a sensible living.

"But why not, though?"

Pinkie Pie somersaults into view, squealing peppily. "You can do whatever you want, Dashie! Go for it!"

Around her, friends turn their attention to them, and more voices join into the conversation. Applejack soon realises that some people still, in fact, do have dreams. And for her friends, it's not the pretentious kind that people pretend to have when they're trying to show off to interviewers or woo someone at a club. These dreams are real and her friends speak about them with sincere adoration. Pinkie Pie, for example, wants to be a baker and run her own confectionery line. Twilight Sparkle wants to enrol in one of the most famous universities in the world and become a researcher. Rarity wants to become a renowned fashion designer, and Fluttershy wants to start an animal rescue and adoption agency.

Even Rainbow, Rainbow motherbucking Dash, is dead serious about her dream. Applejack looks into those rose-coloured eyes and knows. She has known Rainbow Dash for a long time, after all.

The laughter fades away, and though Rainbow must have forgotten that conversation immediately after, the threads of it still spin around in Applejack's mind now, leaving cobwebs in their wake. They curtain her naked green eyes, whenever she's staring into the mirror with roosters crowing in her ears, or when she glimpses the blue sky through the leaves of a tree, halfway up a ladder with fruit baskets balancing over her shoulders.

Applejack is happy with her life, but that doesn't stop her from wondering what it's like to live so freely—to choose as one's heart desires—to fly, as so many people around her do.

So she dreams, and she dreams of stars. Then she wakes, and continues on the path that she's meant for.

~~~

1- Rise and Shine

~~~

Applejack isn't exactly sure why she came to Canterlot High. Frankly, she has no idea how she'd even gotten in. Canterlot High is a prestigious school, notorious for its low acceptance rates, especially with regard to people not from the area. But by some stroke of luck, in spite of her questionable grades and thorough lack of extracurriculars, the school had accepted the application she'd put in on a whim. Maybe it was destiny.

Or, a mistake. Because Canterlot High is also incredibly far from where she lives. Her family farm is located in a rural village so tiny it doesn't have a proper name. She's no stranger to getting up hours before sunrise, but it's a bother rushing through her chores and not getting to savour breakfast just so she can start driving herself to school early enough to reach on time.

It's okay, though. She's used to it.

Yawning, Applejack swings open the doors of the farmhouse, hopping on one foot as she pulls on her other boot and straps on her backpack. She casts a glance back to make sure everything is order for a final time: the cows are milked, the chickens are fed, everyone is in their pens. She hasn't had the time to fix the broken fence yet but she'll get around to it after school. Breakfast is cooked and laid out on the table for when the rest of the family wakes up; Apple Bloom sleeps as quiet as a mouse, but she can hear Big Mac's snoring and Granny Smith just starting to stir from here.

She smiles, steps out, and closes the doors.

The sky is still dark out. There's a cool dawn breeze, and the scent of hay lingers in the air. It's silent, save for the chirping of crickets and occasional noises made by movement of the livestock. Illuminated just enough by the moonlight is the Apple family's shared vehicle, parked right outside where her brother Big Macintosh left it after getting yesterday's harvest to Barnyard Bargains. It's a rusty old delivery pick-up van that was originally white, but is really more greyish-yellow now.

It also has SWEET APPLE ACRES emblazoned in red block letters across the side and on the back doors, hand-painted by Applejack's Pa. Even though the Apples could probably touch up the van's fading exterior, there's an unspoken decision to leave it be. To say the van has been through a lot is a bit of an understatement at this point, but Applejack has trusted it with every journey she takes and will continue to trust it... even if it breaks down just every now and then.

Soon, the van is rumbling along as smoothly as it gets on the road leading to the expressway. Everything is like usual, with her schoolbag in the co-driver seat, windows wound down to let the wind flow through her blonde hair, a CD of country hits playing on the radio that she's listened to so many times she knows every lyric and turn of beat before it comes. She sings out loud to them too, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, because she's driving alone and gurl darn it, she's doing what she wants.

About an hour into the drive she reaches over to her bag to grab her phone. Without looking, she dials a number in, puts it on speaker mode, and props it up on the windshield in front of her as she continues driving. Though she still keeps her focus on the road, she bites her lip with anticipation as she watches the vibrating screen from the corner of her eye.

Finally, the recipient of the call picks up.

"Uuuuuugh. AJ. What's up?" The screen flickers and a familiar, cracking voice comes through the receiver, accompanied by a blurry view of a girl's chin and the spinning ceiling fan above her.

"Howdy there, RD," Applejack can't fight the smile that bubbles to her face upon hearing the voice, so she doesn't. "I see yer up bright an' early today."

Calling Rainbow Dash at 6 A.M. yields varying results. There isn't any transportation-related reason for Rainbow to wake up as early as Applejack does, since she stays in the school dormitories, but the girl is supremely athletic, and disciplined (when she wants to be). On a good day, Rainbow is up by five, and at six she will be back from her morning jog around campus. On others, though, Rainbow simply sleeps like a log, and manages to do so through any and all calls. In fact, she oversleeps so much that her morning jog usually ends up turning into a... morning sprint for the classrooms instead.

"Zzzzz," is Rainbow's garbled reply. She says nothing for a while. Applejack can hear she's breathing a little heavily, skin flushed slightly pink under the soaked exercise singlet she's wearing, no doubt from the run she'd just had. The bottom-up view doesn't allow Applejack to see much, but Rainbow seems to be fiddling with something on her face. She tries doing whatever she's doing once, twice, then sighs loudly and stops for a moment. She leans over the camera to grab something, the curve of her chest filling up the flickering screen.

Applejack suddenly finds it a little harder to breathe.

Rainbow returns in the screen's view with a mug of coffee. For a brief moment she looks down, directly at the camera. She looks sleepy, her eyes barely open beneath her lashes. Glistening spectral locks of hair have escaped the thin towel wrapped around her shoulders, messy and dripping water everywhere.

"Ah," the girl finally says, as her eyes widen. One is grey-blue and the other is glittering rose. Both are equally entrancing. "My camera is switched on—" Mid-sentence, the screen flickers black, then is replaced by her profile picture: a low-resolution image of a goose with a knife in its beak, putting an end to Applejack's at-once suffering and bliss.

"Eheheh, sorry you had to see that," Rainbow laughs nervously. "I know I look like shit right now."

Applejack's hands clench tighter on the steering wheel as she guides her traitorous gaze back on the road. "...It ain't no problem, darlin'," she manages.

Over the phone, there is a loud guzzling noise, then a clank of what is, presumably, the mug, freshly drained. Applejack can hear the smacking of lips. "Good goddess, I hate waking up early."

"Uh huh, and the sky is blue, and water is wet. Got anythin' new to say?" Applejack drones with mock unenthusiasm, although it is still kind of funny how Rainbow makes the exact same complaint every single day she's up early.

"Oh!" Rainbow snaps her fingers over the phone. "I do, actually! I have something really snazzy to tell you about!"

"Well shucks, I'm all ears."

Rainbow giggles. "Heheheh, well, I'm not telling you yet! It's a surprise. You're seriously gonna flip the hell out when you hear about this."

"If I arrive in the classroom and see mah chair and desk duct-taped to the ceiling again because I need a 'change of view', I swear, I'm gunna bash in yer dayum—

"Nononooo, I promise it's not," Rainbow laughs. "...Probably."

"What do you mean, probably??!!"

"Haha! Just joshin' ya." Applejack can almost hear Rainbow wink over the phone. "No, it's actually good news."

"Pinkie Pie swear?"

"Stick a cupcake in my eye."

"Sure. Fine," Applejack leans back with a sigh. "I believe ya this one time."

"...Still, you gotta admit that one was pretty funny."

"No," Applejack drones, "it wasn't."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever. Look, I'll tell you the assuredly-upright news once you get to school," Rainbow affirms. "You reaching early today or what?"

Applejack casts a weary glance at the road. "Maybe if this traffic lets up, I'll get to school on time."

"Kay kay. Then I'll just be praying away all the traffic."

"Yeah," Applejack snorts, "maybe if you pray hard enough, I can teleport to school immediately."

"Yeah, totally. Then you wouldn't have to wake up so friggin' early."

"Darn tootin'," Applejack agrees, brushing her bangs back with a sigh. "Maybe pray me some 'a that peppermint coffee from the school cafe while you're at it."

"Seriously? Why?"

"Dunno. Just really cravin' it right about now."

"Imagine liking peppermint coffee. That's so gross."

"...Weren't y'all the one who wouldn't quit whinin' for me to try it?"

"Nooooo. Stop. Quit exposing me all the time," Rainbow whines. There's a noise from the other end that sounds like she's smacking the screen. "You're such a jerk sometimes, you know that? Miss Assshaaaat. Just like your haaaaat."

"Thanks sugarcube, you are too."

"Awwww, maybe you really do love me." Rainbow coos, and Applejack chuckles along like it's an innocent joke between friends, because it is, and she's fine with it. Perfectly fine. More shuffling ensues over the phone, and Rainbow continues. "Fine, I'll get it for you, but you better get your ass over here stat. Hey, and also, did you hear about..."

And Rainbow is off again, talking leisurely about one inconsequential thing or another. There isn't a real reason for these calls, but Applejack does it anyway, like a morning ritual.

Besides, it makes the roads feel less lonely, even for just a bit.

~~~

Maybe Rainbow's prayers really did do something, because Applejack manages to reach school not only punctually, but also with ten minutes to spare. Rainbow Dash is already there when Applejack pulls into the driveway, standing and waving with the hand holding a cup and the other gripping the strap of her bookbag. Applejack parks, gathers her things, slaps her Stetson over her head and climbs out of the van, before jogging over to meet her.

"Here you go," Rainbow pushes the cup into her hands.

"Thanks," Applejack says as she accepts it.

As they start making their way into the school, Applejack peeks surreptitiously at Rainbow through the steam rising from her cup. Rainbow's multicoloured locks are up in a high ponytail, messy, but in a way that looks effortlessly good. She's even put on some make-up—her eyebrows are done, she has bold eyeliner on and her lips shine a bit more today.

Yep. She is definitely in a good mood. Seeing Rainbow look so happy makes Applejack feel just a little giddy with excitement herself. Staring at her, she cradles the cup of coffee between her palms, letting it warm the tips of her cold fingers, and takes a sip.

Then she chokes. Barely stops herself from spitting it out. "What in tarnation did you put in this?!!"

Rainbow folds her arms behind her head and smirks nonchalantly. "Just decided to up the spiciness a notch. How's it?"

"Why butter my butt and call me a biscuit, I'll tell you how it is," Applejack says once she's recovered from the hellish, mind-numbing shock. "It's like my whole dayum tongue is burning off like a haybale struck in a thunderstorm." She turns around the cup to gawk in disbelief at the sheer number of peppermint pumps listed on the order sticker. Ten? Twenty? "I don't think this is even peppermint anymore. This is just lava. Straight from a volcano."

"Yeah, well, you better thank me. I went to a volcano just to get that for you."

"Oh really, which volcano?"

"Oh, you know. A volcano. The... Mount Awesometopia."

"Ah. Definitely heard of that one."

"Of course."

Applejack shakes her head in mirth, holding out the demonic cup in question. "Here, why not you try it, ya dang varmint."

"Sure, I'm not a crybaby like you." She sticks out her tongue as she takes it. Before Applejack can stop her, she throws her head back and starts straight-up chugging, but doesn't go two seconds before she makes a strangled noise and doubles over, coffee dribbling from her lips.

"Oh my goddess," she splutters, hacking violently, "this is really bad."

"Told ya so," Applejack snickers. "If ya thought twice before doin' thangs, maybe you'd be a Wonderbolt by now." It's a long-running inside joke they've both had since three years ago. It's the last time ever she uses it, though, because—

"Weeeell," a slow smirk curves its way along Rainbow Dash's lips. "You'll never guess what happened just yesterday."

"Wat," Applejack feels her jaw going slack. "Wait. What do you mean? It can't be..."

"That's right! You're talking to a future Wonderbolt here, AJ!" An ear-splitting grin erupts on Rainbow's face as she wipes off her coffee-stained mouth, rose eyes sparkling. "That's the news I wanted to tell you about. I received the acceptance letter just yesterday—I got in! The. Friggin'. Wonderbolts!" Excitedly, she pauses in the middle of the hallway to dig around in her haversack, producing a clean white envelope. Flipping open the seal, she drags out a sheet of paper between her fingers and lets Applejack unfold it.

Indeed, as she says, it's a letter with the official Wonderbolts stamp that Applejack's seen enough to recognise. Below:

Dear Rainbow DASH,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to be part of the Wonderbolts team. Congratulations!

Applejack skims the rest, which cover more details on briefings, training programmes, administrative forms, contact information, transactions. It's all typewritten, printed, concrete. A dream in black and white.

"Heheh, it's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Rainbow says in her ear. A beat. "Hellooo. Earth to Applejack?"

"Ah... Oh!" Applejack swallows down the lump in her throat. She's still holding on to the paper—when had her hands started shaking? She schools her expression into something more pleasant as she passes the letter back to Rainbow, careful not to crumple it. "Well, that's... certainly...somethin'."

"Something?" Rainbow arches an eyebrow.

"I mean," Applejack coughs, "That's... that's plum crazy, sugarcube. Congrats. I would've never expected you'd make it in."

Rainbow's brows furrow for a half-second, but she seems to buy it, shoulders relaxing. Mock pouting, she punches Applejack in the arm- "What do you mean you didn't expect it? Gee, AJ, didn't know you had so little faith in me."

"I just mean... dang. I got so many questions I dun even know where to begin. Yer still in high school," Applejack waves her hands about. "How in land's sakes did you get in? How are ya gonna do Wonderbolts thangs now of all times? Ain't ya still got studyin' to do?"

"Not now, obviously," Rainbow skips slightly ahead of her in the corridor. "Haha, it's a hell of a long story, but long story short, they're funding my college and the rest of my flight school fees. Then after, I'm gonna start flying with them."

"Flying with the Wonderbolts..." Applejack trails off uncertainly. "All over the world, you mean?"

Rainbow turns her head back, opens her mouth and blinks. "Hmm? Yeah! Ahh, even if it's within the country, I can't wait to be free of being stuck in one city. Four years here is four too many." She cackles— a carefree sound ringing through the hallways. "Why, you jealous you can't come? Don't worry, I'll be sure to send you guys loads and loads of postcards. And photos. And gifts!"

"......"

"The flight centre's in Cloudsdale, too. Hey, the ice cream there is really good. I'll send ya a box back if they allow it. Oh, shit!" Suddenly, Rainbow skids to a stop in front of the classroom door.

"What's wrong?"

"I forgot I'm not taking Bio anymore this year. I'm taking a Further Maths class at this hour now," Rainbow explains, sheepishness creeping into her voice. "I'm late now, actually, sooooo yeah." She hops on her feet, pulling on her bag straps. "See ya!"

"Uhhh. Bye?-"

Rainbow is off in a blur before she can finish, leaving Applejack standing alone in the empty hallway. The cup of coffee is still piping hot in her hands, but she feels nothing but cold.

Her shoulders slumping, Applejack inhales... shudders... then drifts into the classroom by herself.

When she pushes the door open, her ears are immediately assaulted with the chattering of students. It seems the teacher, Mrs Cinch is late today, because class was supposed to start a few minutes ago. Applejack navigates past a rambunctious group of boys chortling within themselves, the row of sleeping students faceplanting on their desks, and the lone student scurrying around as he tries to distribute worksheets without bumping into people.

"Need a hand?" Applejack offers.

The student—a timid-looking fellow with a brown bowl cut and stiff white collar—looks up and smiles. "Yeah, thanks."

After she's finished helping the guy, she squeezes past a last column of desks to make her way to her own. The rest of her friends are already there: Rarity and Fluttershy are sharing a conversation by the window, Twilight Sparkle is nose-deep in thick yellowed pages of a tome and Pinkie Pie is perched on Applejack's desk, legs kicking the air as she aggressively taps on her phone. The window seat beside hers, normally occupied by Rainbow, is empty.

"Hey Applejack!" Without looking up, Pinkie Pie sing-songs as Applejack approaches. "You're late~~"

"Howdy there, Pinkie," Applejack slides into her seat as Pinkie hops down from her desk. "Yeah, sorry. I was held up with... somethin'."

"Traffic?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Hmmmm." Pinkie hmms. "Then where's Dashie?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"Applejaaack," Pinkie glances up from the screen to squint at her. "Of course you know!"

"Alright, alright," Applejack concedes. "Rainbow... ain't takin' Biology no more. Said she was takin' some fancy schmancy advanced Maths class now."

Pinkie's jaw drops dramatically. "She abandoned us."

"Yeah, right," Applejack tries not to sound bitter about it.

"Well, she's not the only one," Pinkie shrugs, cocking her head in a certain bookworm's direction. "Twi' there's dropping a subject too. Well, not Bio, but she's dropping Geog for Lit."

Twilight Sparkle's ears twitch imperceptibly at the mention of ther name and nothing more.

"For real?" Applejack says, uncomprehending. "Why would'ja change your subject combination for no reason?"

Twilight doesn't answer, so Pinkie answers for her.

"Oh, it's not for no reason. You know, sometimes people find out what they're really passionate about? Right now lots of people are really deciding on their career paths too, so it's normal for them to be switching subject combis to fit it better."

"Yeah, but in the final year of school? With the final exams and all? Ain't there heck loads of catchin' up to do?"

"Mmm," Pinkie purses her lips in thought. "I dunno! I guess there's still time. We got a whooole year ahead of us, y'know? It's the last year we'll be in school, so if there's a good time to be trying out new things, now's as good a time as any!"

At this moment, Mrs Cinch enters the classroom, yelling at everyone to settle down, and everyone scrambles back to their seats, leaving Applejack to mull on her own. Class starts, and the familiar drone of her voice echoes through the small room, as well as the shuffling of her footsteps and the squeak of the marker on the whiteboard.

Flipping open her textbooks, Applejack concentrates on the grey-black micrographs of cells, but she remains painfully aware of the missing presence beside her, bright colours replaced only by rustling curtains and stuffy air.

She doesn't think about much.

~~~

RARITY: Girls! I have the most wonderful news.

PINKIE PIE: Don't just say that, spill it already!

...ooh, that's a lot of typing. I'm excited 😆

RARITY: So recently, the spa that I've been working at gave out some complimentary coupons for a full-day spa treatment. I have six of them, so it's just enough for all of us. I simply thought it would be nice if we could all spend some time together.

What do you girls think?

PINKIE PIE: sounds great!!! I'm totes in! 💗✨✨

TWILIGHT SPARKLE: Thanks Rarity. What time?

RARITY: I was thinking tonight. Relaxing with a deep tissue massage sounds like an absolutely divine way to commence the school semester~

FLUTTERSHY: That sounds lovely, Rarity, thank you

RAINBOW DASH: ...eh, I dunno

RARITY: If you're going to say spas "aren't your thing" again, Rainbow Dash, rest assured that no one will believe you. We all saw you.

RAINBOW DASH: oh my god that was ONE time

PINKIE PIE: it's ok dashie! We don't spa shame in this house!!!

RARITY: Well! I would certainly hope not.

RAINBOW DASH: I SAID IT WAS FOR MY MUSCLES IT WAS A MUSCLE MASSAGE OK

but ok FINE im cominhg

but do not breathe a word of that incident i am warning yall

what abt u aj

ME: Sorry can't come

Gotta pick up Apple Bloom from school and the usual

Thanks for the offer though

RARITY: No worries

RARITY: Everyone meet up at the bus stop outside Canterlot Mall at 5pm? We can have dinner too before heading to the spa together

RAINBOW DASH: awesome

After checking the previously logged messages in the group chat, Applejack exhales and flips her phone shut. It's probably a good thing there's no reception out here, so she won't see any of the messages that follow just yet.

"Applejack! Over here!"

The high-pitched, cheerful shout of a little girl distracts her from her thoughts. Applejack glances up. Her eyes don't have to search for long to see Apple Bloom waving at her from halfway out the schoolhouse—the large pink bow flouncing in her red hair is conspicuous among the river of pupils gushing out from the doors. After a bit of hustling and squeezing, her younger sister pops out from the stream with a huge smile on her face.

"C'mon, ya rascal." Pocketing her phone, Applejack leans over and pinches both Apple Bloom's cheeks. "Spit it out. What's got you grinnin' so happy-like? Good day at school?"

"Uh huh!" Apple Bloom affirms, batting away Applejack's hands from her face. Applejack laughs, straightens, and allows Apple Bloom's small chubby hand to slip into her own as they walk on the meandering dirt path home. "Miss Cheerilee liked my science project! She said that I'm gunna be one of the participants in the science fair this year!"

"That's plum amazing, sugarcube. I'm sure ya worked real hard on yer... Erhhh.... Applejack scratches her head. "...Pray tell, what was yer science project again?"

"Applejack! You forgot?" Apple Bloom puffs out her cheeks and shakes her arm indignantly. "Ya even helped on it!"

"Did I, now?..."

"Yeah! You helped to correct my drawings so that my shishi-odoshi could actually work. And you brought wood for building my prototype!"

"A shishi- come again?"

"A shishi-odoshi! The Japaneighse water fountain, remember?"

"Oh. Ohhhh. So that's what it was for." Applejack does vaguely recall heaving stacks of logs and planks of different types from the shed for Apple Bloom to choose from- she just hadn't know for what. She smirks. "First an etymologist, second a gymnastics athlete. And now, yer fixin' ta' be a Japaneighse traditional garden designer?"

"Entomologist," Apple Bloom corrects her. "And yeah! Sweetie Belle wants to be a singer and she wants to sing in a beautiful garden."

"And the other one—Scootaloo?"

"Scootaloo wants to ride a motorcycle and join a rogue biker gang."

"Well, that can't be good," Applejack grunts disapprovingly. "Make sure she's not committin' any crimes."

Apple Bloom laughs and shrugs. "Honestly, I think she's more interested in the motorcycle part than the biker gang thing."

"She'd better be."

"Ayup."

"So... yer actually gunna make this fountain now? Need me to fetch the wood again?"

"Uhh, well," Apple Bloom holds up a finger in the way that she does when she's acting smart—or like how she calls it, being professional. "A real shishi-odoshi is made from bamboo, not wood."

Applejack frowns, tapping her chin in thought. "Bamboo, huh? I got no cotton-pickin' idea where we can get that from."

"Can't y'all get it from some shop in the city or somethin'?"

"The city ain't some magical place where there's everything ever existed on planet Earth, sweetheart."

Apple Bloom hums, unconvinced. "It sure seems like it, from what folks say."

"Yeah, well," Applejack looks toward the horizon. "Not really."

"But it's okay if ya can't," Apple Bloom shrugs. "I can just make it out of wood! I'm sure we can give it a paint job and fix her up nice an' fine, so it looks just like real shishi-odoshi bamboo."

Apple Bloom's a mature girl for her age. When Applejack looks at her unwavering smile, she should feel proud—she ought to—but the only thing she can think about is what she can't give her.

"I'll do my best to find it for ya, okay?" Leaning down, Applejack ruffles her hair and pats her shoulder. "You just do well in school and treat yer classmates nice."

Apple Bloom brightens visibly. "Yay! Thanks, Applejack!"

"No problem," Applejack responds as she urges Apple Bloom into the homestead, where they've arrived.

Inside, the table is set, plates and cutlery and cups laid out on the tablecloth—today, they're using the one with the daisy print. The lights, lamps hanging down from the wooden roof-beams, cast a warm glow against the red-painted interior of the farmhouse. There's not a soul to be seen until a brown-white collie, ears perked up at the sound of the opening door, bounds out of Applejack's room, tail wagging excitedly.

"Winona!" Applejack calls as the dog jumps up at her. She wraps Winona in her arms briefly, who licks at her face affectionately before leaping down to greet Apple Bloom with the same vigour. "Heheheh, good girl, good girl." She's squatted down, scratching at the scruff of Winona's neck when she finally notices the buttery aroma wafting into her nostrils.

"What's that a'cookin'?" Applejack furrows her eyebrows. "I thought I already made dinner."

"Well I done made some more!" Granny Smith totters out of the kitchen with a steaming tray in hand. Her snow-white hair is in a high bun, frizz kept barely in place by a hairnet, and a stained apron drapes across her front. She sets the tray on the table with a heavy clang and blows her bare hands off. "Hoo! Now that's what I call fresh from the oven!"

"Granny," Applejack sighs. "Why aren't you using the oven mitts to take things from the oven?" Said mitts lie on the corner of the dining table by the jam spreads, untouched.

"Oven mitts schmoven mitts!" Granny exclaims. "I've been bakin' apple crumble cookies for years and years with mine own two hands. I ain't got no need for them to fetch a hot pan from the hob."

"Cookies??!!" Apple Bloom whoops and bounds over to the table, already salivating. "Yayyy! This is the best dinner ever!"

Applejack hauls Apple Bloom back from the table by her collar, preventing her from seizing one with her grubby hands. "Hold yer horses, scamp. Wash yer hands first." Once the child has waddled a safe distance from the food, she walks over to inspect Granny's wrinkled hands. Finding no cause for concern, she soon lets go, but not without chiding first,

"It doesn't hurt to be careful. Use the mitts next time around, kay? And maybe tell me before you decide to whip up dessert—I ain't sure we can finish up all the food this here evening."

Granny makes a noncommittal noise and turns away. "Today's yer first day of school! It's cause for celebration. If there's leftovers, we can eat 'em tomorrow." She starts toward the kitchen.

Applejack's eyes follow her warily. "Where're you goin'?"

"Why, to get the rest of the cookie batch, of course."

"Granny, the mitts."

Granny disappears into the kitchen.

"Granny," Applejack snatches up the mitts and chases after her. "Grannyyyy!—"

Dinner officially starts after Big Mac has returned from the fields and washed himself off. This delights Apple Bloom, who has been squirming impatiently in her seat for the past ten minutes, but she too waits for Granny to rise from her seat and serve the four of them. Granny takes her time to ladle hot, creamy soup into each of their bowls, then scoop mashed potatoes and greens on their plates.

"Now aren't you famished today," Granny chuckles under Apple Bloom's anxious hazel gaze once she's done. "Have at it, gurl."

Not needing to be told twice, Apple Bloom wastes no time in pouncing upon the meal with her fork and knife, shovelling potatoes in her mouth like a ravenous wolf. They all laugh.

"She's a growing child alright," Applejack notes.

"Eeeyup," agrees Big Mac.

"She's got an appetite just like your Pa did," Granny says. She blinks, looking around. "Well, what are the rest of y'all waitin' for? Dig in!"

They talk about one thing or another: work on the farm, more about Apple Bloom's science project, interesting happenings around the village. At some point Granny titters, telling Big Mac to turn on the television, and he obliges, shuffling to the coffee table where the remote control is. Sweet Apple Acres has the good fortune of being located near a broadcasting tower, so they are at least able to access a few news and entertainment stations on the family T.V..

The television flickers on.

Applejack has to rub her eyes.

For on the screen is...

"A seventeen-year-old clinches a place in the Wonderbolts, in a historic turn of events!" The television newscaster, a man in a stuffy black suit, reads into the microphone. Beside him, a familiar teenage girl with multicoloured hair sits on a giant plush chair, elbows up on the glass table. Virtual screens flash behind the both of them, displaying words and phrases as he speaks over a heavy bass and drums intro.

"Mmmrprh-" Apple Bloom says around a mouthful of baked beans.

"Swallow your food first, dear," Applejack mutters. She herself tries to focus on her potatoes, but her eyes end up glued to the screen.

The newscaster continues. "They say it's never too late to pursue your dreams, and this here proves that it's never too early, either!" He smiles a little too wide for Applejack's taste. "For those of you who aren't caught up to speed, the Wonderbolts are the nation's most elite aerobatic pilot team. Established since our country's founding, the Wonderbolts were present at the first national day parade and have performed at every one since. Renowned worldwide, the Wonderbolts today also paint the skies of countries all around the globe with their breathtaking acrobatic shows. Members of the Wonderbolts include some of the top pilots of their time, like Firefly, Purple Dart, and Easyglider."

"It's no surprise, then, that thousands and thousands of aspiring pilots vie for one of the extremely coveted spaces in the Wonderbolts every year. And here today we have the Wonderbolts' newest accepted candidate—incidentally, the youngest one in its history of establishment:--"

"Isn't that your friend?" Finally finished chewing, Apple Bloom pipes up again. "The one that's called Rainbow- Rainbow-"

"Rainbow Dash," the newscaster supplies pleasantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Hey," Rainbow says casually and winks at the camera. Applejack barely hears the newscaster chuckling in response.

"Rainbow Dash is just seventeen, a student from Canterlot High, in her last year of high school. To most people, this may be downright unbelievable news, and to be honest, dear watchers, I myself am quite flabbergasted. Tell us, Miss Dash, just how did you manage to land a spot in the Wonderbolts?"

Rainbow clicks her tongue and draws the microphone to herself. "Well, it's kind of a looong story, sir. But you see, I've always wondered what it was like to soar in the sky since young, and I really liked watching those aerobatic shows—yep, the Wonderbolts included!" She giggles and tucks her hair back. "When I was in middle school, my dad knew some people in the aviation industry and they let me try out their flight simulators. They were crazy impressed—they thought I had a rare talent for it and wanted to teach me more, so I was like, heck, why not? So I started taking lessons, y'know, and I guess one thing led to another."

"So how do feel, now that you've finally realised your dreams?" the newscaster asks.

"That's an easy one," Rainbow smiles. Galaxies reflect in her eyes. "I couldn't be happier. Duh!"

Click.

Remote in her hand, Applejack switches the channel: to some local cooking show, or something else she can't be bothered to check. Then she stands up abruptly, beginning to stack the scraped plates and empty pots.

Everyone is silent, staring at her with confused expressions. Even Apple Bloom has stopped chewing.

"Just what are yer doin'?" Granny asks, completely mystified.

"Washing the dishes," she monotones.

"But you haven't even had dessert yet!" Apple Bloom says.

"I'm full."

"Reeeally?? Then just have one?"

"I can eat 'em tomorrow."

"But... but..." Apple Bloom fumbles.

"There somethin' wrong with the T.V.?" Granny presses in her tinny voice. "Ya dun like the news or somethin'?"

"No," Applejack says. "It's just... don't ya think what was on there was awful boring?" More bowls and plates go onto the stack. From the corner of her eye, she sees Big Mac merely watching her, silent.

"Uhhhhhh-"

Apple Bloom begins, but Applejack is already turning away. Piling her arms full of silverware, she walks into the kitchen alone, where she lets the sound of water and soap suds drown out the noise.

~~~

2- Makin' My Way Downtown

~~~

Most people think that Applejack is an honest person.

Not saying that she isn't, usually. But standing for honesty doesn't mean Applejack is completely honest a hundred percent of the time. After all, there are some truths that shouldn't be said yet, or else can't be said at all. Telling the truth is honorable, and it feels good, but sometimes it's simply not worth it.

For instance, she could tell Apple Bloom that Santa Claus doesn't actually exist, but all it would result in is a bawling child and a ruined Hearth's Warming. She could tell Filthy Rich, their representative at Barnyard Bargains, that his moustache looks like a rat crawled on his upper lip and died, but the Apple family would lose their only major retailer. Like how her Granny used to say, tugging her back by her braids at a time when she was young and brash and fiery, ready to give folks a piece of her mind: "dun you be gettin' a smart mouth!"

So there are certain things Applejack leaves unsaid.

Like that she only likes girls, because she doesn't know how her friends will react. They're nice people, but Applejack knows better than to assume that equals supportiveness by now. Heaven knows that her family would react even worse, and their disappointment is something Applejack can't face.

Like how she is in love with her best friend, because she would never see her that way.

And it's okay. Life goes on. Corn doesn't stop needing to be harvested just because it's a rainy day out, and Rainbow Dash is still her friend. Or at least, she was okay with that, knowing that even if Rainbow would never be hers, she would still be around in Applejack's day-to-day. Her presence, Applejack could settle for—she's settled for less her whole life, after all. Except, that that was no longer going to be there, either.

Rationally, Applejack knows that she's being selfish. The truth is, there's a part of her that just wants to steal Rainbow Dash away from the world for but a moment, to take her hand in hers while they embark on some crazy shenanigans that Rainbow's thought up; to lean in a little more when Rainbow's in her face being stupid to kiss that confident smirk off her face; to hug her from behind and wrap her arms around her waist, whispering in her ear about how adorable she looks—then get punched in the face afterwards for daring to say something so 'uncool'.

The girl is just so unpredictable in a predictable way. She knows Rainbow well enough to know that, the same way she knows that—if she laid her heart bare for Rainbow to see—it would ruin her. You see, for how much she acts like she doesn't care about anyone, Rainbow Dash is loyal beyond belief. If she didn't like her back, she would live with the guilt forever, bending her back over to 'make up' for it somehow. And in the tiny... minuscule... off-chance she liked her back, she would live with guilt anyway— this time because of leaving her for the Wonderbolts.

There's a third option. Maybe she'd be even loyal enough to give up the Wonderbolts for her. Applejack has to admit her heart flutters at the mere fantasy, the romantic idealism of it all.

But if there's one thing true about Rainbow Dash, it's that she's meant to be free.

And who is Applejack, who will always tethered to the the ground, to take that from her?

Stars are always out of reach.

"Y'all okay there?"

Applejack nearly drops her cup. "Ah- huh??"

The question comes from Carrot Top, seemingly out of the blue. They're sitting on the couch in the living room of Mr. and Mrs. Harvest's farmhouse, just next door to Sweet Apple Acres. There's a pitcher of sweet tea on the table and the quarter-loaf of bread Applejack brought over, thickly sliced on a plate with freshly-churned butter on the side. Beside her is Carrot Top, the eldest daughter of the Harvest family. She's actually named Golden Harvest— but everyone in the village calls her Carrot Top, because her hair looks the shade of yellow carrots under the right lighting.

"I said," Carrot Top says patiently, "Are ya okay there?"

"Um, yeah," Applejack says, collecting herself. "Why?"

She cocks her head. "Ya just seemed out of sorts, is all."

"Well, with the harvest season and all, it'd be strange to not be plum tuckered out, if you ask me." As the first leaves of autumn start flying in, the real brunt of the harvest season is due to kick in anytime now, and the profits made within the coming months will be what tides all of their farms through the winter. It's, incidentally, also why they are both here today to discuss business. It's a believable reason.

Carrot Top looks at her for a moment, then shrugs. "Fair enough."

"Yeah." Herding away her crowded thoughts, Applejack reaches for the paperwork in front of them. "Anyway, as I was sayin'. I've got the plans fer the sales grounds ready and our schedule. You can take a gander." She lets Carrot Top pick up the binder and flip through her notes and sketches, scrawled on green sheets of paper. Her power colour.

"Whoa..." Carrot Top says, visibly impressed. "You sure put a lot of work into this."

"Yeah, what can I say," Applejack rubs her head. "This harvest's important. Like every one is, of course, but we're expectin' a bigger crowd than usual this year. That's why I'm makin' sure to get ever'y last detail right." It's also been useful for forgetting the other things on her mind, she doesn't mention.

"Riiight. Barnyard Bargain's big anniversary?"

"Uh huh. Filthy Rich told us they'd been bumpin' up publicity for months. We could be expectin' up to twice or thrice the usual amount of people."

"Whew-whee! We'd better be well prepared then."

"Darn straight," Applejack keeps on rambling, "so make sure yer folks are on track with the harvestin' on yer end and ya got enough farmhands to spare for runnin' the register and crowd control."

Carrot Top nods, humming. Her head is tilted down to study the plans, her hair falling to frame her face as she does so. Carrot Top and Applejack look really similar: green eyes, blonde hair, except hers curls in pretty gold ringlets, while Applejack's has both the colour and texture of straight, frizzy straw. They could be mistaken for cousins. Heck, they practically were cousins growing up. Back in the day, since they lived so near to each other and were both the only girls of their age in the area, they would do all manners of things together—riding horses, playing in the mud, fishing at the river bank, the like. Things got a lot more quiet between them after Pa and Ma passed, even though it meant Mr. and Mrs. Harvest babysat Applejack and her siblings more often. They did a good job, but they just weren't nearly enough to fill the void in her heart.

The silence is starting to get a bit stifling, so Applejack asks a question. "So how are yer parents doin'?"

"They're doin' just fine," Carrot Top replies. "Well, Pa at least. Ma's down with a bit of the seasonal flu, but she's recoverin' speedily.'

"Ohh. So that's why I ain't been seein' her in the fields over yonder."

"Ayup. She's been restin' up and drinkin' up. Dun you fret, though, she'll be up in time for the harvest."

"Send her my regards."

"I'll be sure to," Carrot Top smiles as she continues flipping through the binder. "And you? How are things?"

"Good, I guess."

"Hmmm," Carrot Top says. "And how's the city like, huh?"

Applejack breathes out. "Why does everyone always wanna know about the city?"

"Yer one of the few in the village who go there on the regular," Carrot Top shrugs, "Especially somewhere as far as Canterlot."

"Fine," Applejack takes a decidedly long sip of tea and leans back, contemplative. "The city... the city's always movin', I reckon."

Carrot Top raises an eyebrow. "'Fraid I don't get it."

"The city's always movin'," Applejack repeats. "Every day, every hour... everyone's rushin' off. Even if physically, they're sittin' still-like, or they tell ya nothing much's goin' on in their lives, their mind's going somewhere. And I tell ya, it's going somewhere pretty dag-blame'd fast. One second, someone's an unnoticeable lazy bum at the bottom of the class. Blink, and they're the founder of some spankin' new entrepreneurship."

"Really? How?"

Applejack sets the cup down on the table with a clink. "Y'know what the folks here say about the city? They're right in one sense." She lifts a finger. "The city's a place of opportunity. If you wanna buy somethin', there's a shop for it. You wanna do somethin', there are programmes... websites... people who can help ya get there. But sometimes, it feels like because people can do anythin' at all– they just keep jumping from one thang to another."

This, Carrot Top seems to get. She nods. "They can't stick to one thing an' just one thing proper."

"Exactly," Applejack sighs. "Yesterday, I went to school again. I dunno if it's because it's the last year of high school, but suddenly everyone is antsier than cats on hot bricks. Some of mah friends are changin' the subjects they'd been studying for the past three years, and another..." Applejack closes her eyes. "...A whole lot of people are talkin' about goin' overseas for college and whatnot."

"Ain't Canterlot got enough good colleges?" Carrot Top snorts. "They all gotta be doggone wild in the city."

"Ya bet they are. It's just... unreal I won't be seein' most of 'em for much longer," Applejack stirs the remaining tea in her cup—watches the bubbles rise to the surface as froth. "Kinda thought we'd be able to drop by each other's places an' hang out as a gang after we graduate. Turns out that's not quite gonna be."

Carrot Top chuckles. "What's the point of bein' friends if ya don't get the whole deal, right? Goin' to each other's weddings... rockin' each other's kids to sleep... gettin' wrinkles together..."

Applejack imagines, unbidden, Rainbow Dash in a flowing white dress, face obscured by a delicate veil as she stares lovingly into the eyes of a suited gentleman. Applejack as her maiden of honour, flowers in her hands, watching from the side while the rest of the girls around her coo in delight. Her heart clenches, and she quashes the vision down. "...Right."

"'S okay, ya still got us." Reaching over, Carrot Top gives her a good thump on the back. "Me, mah family, yer family, the other neighbours...we'll all be there when yer married off to a good strong man." She smiles crookedly. "But only if ya sit mah kids for me too! Harharhar..."

"Mmmmhmm..."

"And well, whatever if they all wanna run off to goddess-knows-where," Carrot Top chomps away slowly at a slice of bread. "In the end, home is still where yer comin' back to. It's better here anyhow, where everyone knows how to really live life, y'know? Where everythang's easy, relaxed. Simple-like."

"Yeah..." Applejack exhales, her eyes blank. "Yeah, it is."

~~~

Applejack finds Rainbow Dash ahead of her in the lunch line. She's mid-passing her tray to the lunch lady at the carbohydrate station and gesturing at the fries. Nodding, the lady scoops some fries on her tray and passes it back to her. Applejack expects her to move on after that, but from afar, Applejack watches as Rainbow pushes the tray back, making a second gesture at the fries.

"More," Rainbow seems to be mouthing.

The lunch lady gives her a look. Rainbow ignores it.

It takes Applejack catching up to her for Rainbow to catch notice of her. Her face lights up.

"Heyyy, Applejack!" Rainbow calls, delighted. She raises her hand for a high-five.

"What's up," Applejack answers and claps the hand with a resounding smack. She hands her tray over to the lunch lady and chooses the only other carbohydrate option: a spaghetti sitting in a thin, soupy cream that looks about as flavourful as water.

"How's life, huh?"

"If I'm bein' honest, sugarcube? Tis' been real strange not havin' ya around during half our classes." Though Bio had been the only subject Rainbow dropped, she's been missing several lessons, either attending some special training programmes by the school, called to the office for things, training for competitions, or briefings, or whatnot. They're still in the same class, technically, but Applejack rarely sees Rainbow now.

"Why, 'cause you can't copy my answers anymore?"

Applejack rolls her eyes as she takes back her tray. "Maybe if I wanted to get a zero on every test, I'd copy yer answers, alright."

"Jeez, ouch. Owww," Rainbow clutches at her own heart theatrically. "We meet again finally and you start attacking me again." The lunch lady shooes her along in the line, and she shuffles along reluctantly.

"Sure, sure," Applejack follows her. "You enjoyin' yer Maths class?"

"Oh, right, that," Rainbow says, drumming her fingers on the counter. "I mean, it's tough. Like, really tough. Not gonna lie, I was starting to regret the moment I stepped into that class. Especially with that whizzbang of a first impression I made by being late, haha— I think my lecturer hates me already." She laughs. "But at the same time, the class itself is kind of cool? There's an actual challenge in doing the questions. The normal Maths we do is easier, but it's kind of brainless in comparison." She finishes in a breath. "So yeah, I think I like it."

"Well, well, well. I can't believe I'm seein' the day Rainbow Dash likes Maths," Applejack smirks. "Remember in first year, when you submitted that creative writing assignment where you described in vivid detail about wanting to go back in time to slowly torture the first mathematician ever-"

"-and got whisked straight to the guidance counsellor's office? Hell yeah." Rainbow cackles. "Worth it! I say it was worth it." They've reached the dessert line; Rainbow reaches out and plucks a chocolate cup from the ice box, setting it beside the concerning mountain of French fries heaped on her tray.

Rolling her eyes, Applejack goes for the chilled fruit array, hand hovering above as she decides what to get. "Maybe y'all should become a writer instead of a pilot. Heard that stuff sells when you market it to the right audience." She's only half joking.

"Maybe I should," Rainbow seems to be actually considering it. "Heck— why not both? But I think I'd rather write adventures. Like, the kind with spaceships and aliens and shooting. Oh! Oh! Or, I could just write about what happens every day when I've actually become a Wonderbolt. Imagine, it'll be titled something like Journal of a Wonderbolt, by Rainbow Dash," she gushes. "Holy crap, that's so cool. Wouldn't that be awesome. And I'd have so many adoring fans, I'll still be drowning in love letters when I'm eighty and in a rocking chair."

"Uh-huh." Applejack takes a pear from the array.

Rose eyes follow Applejack's hand. "Obligatory why-not-an-apple joke,"

Applejack sets the pear on her own tray, grabs another apple and mimes throwing it at her. "Obligatory reminder to take care of yer health. Seriously, y'all won't be livin' till eighty if you eat like that every day."

"I've got training later, I need the energy," Rainbow whines unconvincingly.

"You'd get the same energy from healthy food," Applejack deadpans. "Better energy, even."

"Okay, whatever you say, Pearjack."

Applejack lobs the apple at her. Rainbow dodges. The lunch lady yells at them and they run along, laughing to themselves.

"As a treat, as a treat," Rainbow insists. The apple is rolling on the canteen floor; Rainbow's foot catches it almost instinctively, and starts dribbling it like a shiny red football.

"What in Christ's name are you doin' to the poor thang?"

"I love how you talk about apples like they have rights," Rainbow sniggers, "especially when you just abandoned them two seconds ago. Left them to the wolves."

"I didn't- abandon- the goddamn apples, what, do I have to eat them everyday-"

"Yeah, if not you're not Applejack anymore. You become Pearjack."

"That is so plum ridiculous I dun even know how to reply." The apple ricochets off a table leg and returns to Rainbow's shoe. Applejack groans, "And will you please stop... grrr... abusin' the apple?"

"Alright, fine," Rainbow surrenders. With a foot, she stops the rolling apple and shoves the cap of her shoe below it, propelling it into the air. She catches it out of the air with a single swift hand. "Since you insist soooo badly, Miss Pear, I'll eat this. Healthy, right?"

"That hardly balances out the fries and ice cream. Also, you've been kicking that around on the floor for the better half of a minute. At least wash it first." Applejack watches as Rainbow sinks her teeth into the bruised fruit. "...I don't know why I even bother."

"Mousse, not ice cream," Rainbow objects, voice muffled around crunching apple.

"Same cotton-pickin' difference. Dun blame me when ya get sick from that," Applejack remarks. "Oh, hey. We're not the last ones, are we?"

The rest of the girls are at their regular table. It's the long table smack-dab in the middle of the cafeteria, right where Applejack would definitely not choose to sit had she been alone: a wobbling tray full of food and squeezing through a room packed with five hundred hungry high schoolers is not a good combination for her stress levels.

But getting to see the girls makes the precarious journey across the hive of scum and villainy that is CHS during lunch worth it every time. Twilight Sparkle and her relatively typical lunchtray. Rarity and her pretentious order-in açai berry, chia seed, goddess-knows-what 'beauty bowl'. Fluttershy and her vegetarian set meal. She loves all of them.

And Pinkie Pie.

"Nope! We're still waiting for Sunset Shimmer!" Pinkie Pie says, rocking back and forth in her seat over her tray and a lunchbox with entirely too many frosted cakes in it. Leftovers from the bakery she works at, Applejack knows, but still, there's got to be a limit.

"Sunset who?"

"Oopsies..." Pinkie freezes up momentarily, eyes crossing. "Wrong universe."

"Yeah. Uh. Sure." Applejack slides into the booth across from her. Applejack also loves Pinkie, but she really has no idea what she's saying most of the time. Maybe Rainbow's speculations were right: Pinkie's actually under the magical spell of the alligator stuffed toy that she brings around everywhere. Said alligator perches on top of Pinkie's water bottle right now, like it's the reptilian martyr of the table, all toothy grin and purple stitched eyes. ("Boring into my soul," Rainbow had hissed in her ear, "It's trying to possess me too, AJ.")

Applejack flushes a little at the memory of Rainbow's breath ghosting by her eartips, but luckily, no one seems to notice, and Rainbow's already focused on tearing into her sorry excuse for a meal. Applejack remembers when Rainbow used to be so shy about touch, cringing away from hugs or pats on the back or arm holds. Now she makes contact way more often. Too often, actually. Like how her knee is resting against Applejack's thigh right now, only because Rainbow loves sitting with her legs wide apart and they're best friends and it's casual, it's nothing nothingnothing—

Shovelling a forkful of her wet spaghetti into her mouth, Applejack tries to let its incredibly processed blandness distract her from the heat in her cheeks. She tries hard. Meanwhile, the conversation swells back to life around her.

"Applejack, Rainbow Dash," Rarity greets pleasantly. "How has your week been?"

"Super, I'm sure," Twilight smiles knowingly, "Especially for you, Rainbow."

"Oh! Oh! Right!" Pinkie bounces in place. "Dashie, you were on the news! Pinkie heard you on the radio last week while she was bakin' up yummy-yummy treats at Sugarcube Corner! You're famous and you didn't tell me? Huh??"

"Heheh, well, I wouldn't say famous yet," Rainbow says nonchalantly as she dips a fry in ketchup. "It's no biggie. It's not like it's my first time on the news."

Rarity rolls her eyes. "It is a relief that, for once, you're not on the news for vandalism and destruction of property."

"H-hey, I don't do that all the time..."

"It's wonderful news that you were accepted into the Wonderbolts, Rainbow," Fluttershy says warmly. "I think we all here are really proud of you."

Twilight pushes up her glasses and nods, satisfaction glinting in her eyes. "Certainly! It's great to see that you managed to push through all the tests, with all the revision sessions I put you through last year."

Burying her face, Rainbow groans. "Uuuughhh, don't remind me. Those were the worst times of my life."

Applejack remembers last year's exam season: long afternoons spent in the library, poring over handwritten notes, exercise booklets and decks of flashcards. The sounds of flipping pages, clattering pens, hushed voices and the occasional mental breakdown. CHS exam season. Always a fun time. Twilight, ever the academic genius of their group, had been the one regularly inviting them to join her study sessions; she made sure they weren't getting distracted, and often finished her work first so she could flit about their table to help them with their questions. Applejack has Twilight to thank for saving her Chem grades from the brink.

"But the hard work paid off in the end, didn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess," Rainbow reluctantly concedes, chewing on one end of her fry. "Don't get all cocky, now. Studying is still for eggheads." Twilight beams anyway.

Rainbow Dash had only started coming to the study sessions once she realised no amount of sweet-talking the Wonderbolts admissions office would let her join them while sporting straight Fs on her report card. As it turned out, with the help of Twilight, and months of diligent preparation, Rainbow could do well when she actually studied, and now Twilight buzzes with the contentment of a mother hen having done its job.

"We should totally do something to celebrate!" Pinkie Pie takes a swig of her yoghurt drink and licks her lips in thought. "Should I throw a party? Ooooh! Sugarcube Corner should be free for booking on this Saturday evening. I can decorate the place, put on some beats and whip up some goodies for everyone!"

"Ah, about that..." Rainbow rubs her head, sounding apologetic. "I've got ground school lessons on Saturdays so I can't."

"What about Sundays?"

"Sorry, I've got flight training for the whole day too..."

"Awww," Pinkie frowns, tapping her head. "Then what can we do?"

"We could go to the spa!" Rarity suggests.

"Rarity, we literally went to the spa, like, five days ago," Rainbow drones.

"You can never visit a spa too often!" Rarity insists. "Besides, poor Applejack didn't get to go yet."

"Nah," Applejack objects. "We can do somethin' else. If y'all went to the spa recently, I dun wanna bore y'all by doin' the same thang again so soon."

"Oh, well then," Rarity pauses to take out her purse, unfastening the clasp and rifling through it. She places a gold-embossed coupon in Applejack's palm. "For you, darling. Maybe you can go by yourself one day—treat yourself!"

"Uhh, thank you," Applejack can't think of a day when she would be free during the harvest season to make good use of the full-day coupon, but it would be impolite to reject it. She pockets it, hoping the expiry date isn't too soon.

"We should do something which Applejack can come for," Twilight says.

"One hundred percent," Rainbow agrees, nudging Applejack with an elbow. "Say, AJ, we all don't have classes after lunch. You wanna hang out or something after this? Hit the malls, I don't know, or lurk around the park, just for a bit?"

"Funny that you say that," Applejack says. "I was actually gonna go into town to do some shoppin' later."

Eyes bulging, Rarity whirls on her. "Did... someone... say... shopping?"

"Oh look, you've gone and awoken the shopping addict," Twilight chuckles lightly.

"The horror! The horror!"

"No, but she's right. You? Shopping?" Rainbow arches an eyebrow at this, too, jabbing a finger at her chest. "Who are you and what have you done with my Applejack?"

My Applejack, the words ring in her head. Applejack resists the urge to smack herself silly. "Yeah. What about it? I need to buy things too, like a normal person."

"Ooh," Fluttershy sounds interested. "Then we can come with! Um, only if you're okay with it, though."

"Yeah, uh, y'all can do that." Applejack hadn't been planning on shopping with the girls, but they're more familiar with the city centre than her, she reasons. Maybe they will be able to help her with finding what she needs faster. She might even have enough time to drop by the Harvests' again to finalise plans before fetching Apple Bloom from school.

"Then it's decided," Rarity clasps her pale hands together with barely-concealed, if at all, glee. "Let's go shopping!~~"

~~~

The subway lurches to a halt, and the doors slide open into a whole new world. Well, not exactly, but it does kind of feel like stepping out into another realm, only it's about as magical as herding cattle. Fun, when you do it for the first time: a herd of cows moving at your beck and call, following one after the other in waves, is quite the entrancing sight for a small, newly-initiated farmgirl. The sixth time, the twenty-first time, the fiftieth time? It becomes just another thing you need to do to get through the day.

Applejack boards the escalator with the rest of the girls, and the automated stairs, gears clicking and turning, lift them from the platform towards the station's exit. They line up in a single row on the right side, allowing for the steady stream of hurried commuters to clack their way up the moving escalator through the left lane. One of them accidentally steps on her shoe, mutters an apology, and continues their anxious trek upward. Leaning on the handrail, Applejack stares at the signs indicating train arrivals and departures as they pass, while the rest of the girls are immersed in idle talk.

At last, they emerge in the centre of Canterlot city. The first thing one immediately notices is the grime. It's not that she can't handle a little dirt; as Rarity would (exaggeratedly) put it, Applejack 'rolls around in the mud' all the time doing chores. But farm grime is different from city grime. While at Sweet Apple Acres the air smells of hay, livestock, and compost, breathing in the heart of Canterlot is like inhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke and car exhaust. Also, unlike the well-kept, somewhat quiet residential area surrounding CHS, the Canterlot city centre is strewn with garbage, either tied up in black bags and piled in green receptacles, or spilling on the streets as litter. The stench, combined with the peak hour crowds— a veritable wall of cacaphonous bodies—makes Applejack glad she doesn't come here too often.

"Come this way!" Rarity hollers, not bothering to sound dignified over the din of the people, as she raises her perfectly-manicured hand up high in the air. Applejack sticks closely to her lead and the other girls, not wanting to get separated or worse, lost. She has gotten lost once before and found herself in a deserted back alley, threatened at knifepoint for her wallet. They like to target people who don't look like they're from the city. She was left alone soon after they found out she had no money on her. Not a fun experience.

As she ruminates, she soon finds herself enveloped in a rush of inviting warmth. They've arrived in the mall Rarity has been dragging them to. It's a fancy-looking one, all high ceilings and vast atrium. Sunlight rains down from the glass roof-windows, causing the smooth marble floors to glimmer faintly as they walk. There are few people in here, in suits and polished shoes, milling about their own business. Their conversations are sparse in the quiet.

"Erm, Rarity, where exactly are we headin'?" Applejack asks, feeling a little uneasy as they walk past shop fronts filled with leather suitcases, gold chains and— is that a deer pelt? "I dun rightly think I can afford anythin' here."

"Oh, don't worry!" Rarity's singsong voice echoes in the expansive passages as she disappears around a corner. "We're just passing through here to another mall."

A right turn, two left turns, and an escalator down later, they go on a travellator through a glitzy underpass with advertisements flashing on the walls and loud pop music blaring in their ears. They emerge in another mall, this one with soft bossa nova and the gurgling of water features, a subtle, woodsy fragrance in the air. Strategically-arranged escalators lead the way up into five floors of more luxury goods. They're about to go up one of them when Rarity suddenly stops and gasps, "Oh my goodness!"

"What is it?" Twilight asks.

Rarity points a finger at a glass display cabinet of a nearby make-up store, her entire figure trembling with excitement. "It's the limited edition Pommel eyeshadow kit I've been dying to get for eons! You have no idea how much I've searched high and low for this. Oh, I simply must at least try it out. Applejack, dear, can we pleaaase go inside to take a look? I promise it won't take long."

Applejack shrugs.

And so they enter the store. Rarity dives headfirst into her eyeshadow paradise, viciously snatching up the tester palettes and brush as she tugs Fluttershy by the arm, begging her to help her critique her looks. Pinkie is over at the lipstick section making weird faces while pursing matte red lips in the mirror, mimicking models and giggling. Beside her, Twilight scrutinises ingredient lists printed on the back of topical creams, once in a while knitting her eyebrows, before turning to tell Pinkie about how some of the claims on the labels are totally bogus.

Rainbow Dash is gazing at the shelf nearest to them, making a face. Applejack approaches her.

"Hey. What're you lookin' at?"

"Oh. Uhh," Rainbow turns to look at her, scratching her neck. "Just hair conditioner, I guess. Been running low on it recently. But I probably won't get any from here, because it's all so expensive." To demonstrate her point, she takes up a bottle and shakes it vigorously at her, pinching the pricetag attached. "Get a load of this!"

Applejack gives it a once-over. "Isn't that the same moisture root conditioner ya always use from Target?" Sometimes, Applejack picks up Rainbow's groceries for her, when the latter is busy with cross country training and Applejack just so happens to be at the Target near their school. Rainbow, naturally, returns the favour when she's passing by Target and Applejack has work to get done, and even helps to store some of her stuff in her dorm room. "Why the hell's it three times the price?"

"Goddess knows!" Rainbow throws her hands up. "It's the exact same brand, and the one at Target isn't a fake version or anything like that. Seriously, are they charging more because they put the bottles on, like, thousand-dollar ebony shelves? They polished the packaging so it's shinier? The hell?"

Applejack's chuckling along, but the societally acceptable part of her reminds her that they're in a public place. "Shhh, keep it down, will ya?" she glances about furtively. "The shopkeepers might hear ya."

"Pfffft, let them!" Rainbow snarks, plonking the bottle back on the shelf. "They're robbing us in broad dayligh- mmrmmmrmff!" Applejack slaps her hand against Rainbow's mouth before she can get the six of them kicked out of the store, and Rainbow deflates. "Fine, fine," Rainbow grumbles, pushing her away. She's avoiding her gaze, for some reason. Applejack follows her as Rainbow skulks into the hair dye section.

In Canterlot, it's more common for people to have their hair dyed than not. Applejack's friends are no exception. Though not to the same degree as Rainbow's—Rainbow is an extreme case—Twilight, Pinkie, Rarity and Fluttershy all have their hair dyed. Twilight's is violet with magenta and navy streaks; Rarity's a tasteful dark indigo; Pinkie's bubblegum pink and Fluttershy's a mulberry ombré. Applejack is sometimes a little self-conscious about her naked blonde strands, but at least no one gives her a hard time for it.

Right now, Rainbow is holding up boxes to the mirror, squinting at her reflection as she matches colour samples to her hair.

"I mean, obviously I'm not gonna buy the dye from here," she's saying, "but I'm just seeing what might look good."

"Why, you thinkin' of changin' yer hair colour?"

"Maybe?" Rainbow hums. "I know I've had rainbow hair for like, a billion years. But you know, new school year, new me." She picks another box up. "Do you think purple would suit me?"

"I honestly can't imagine ya havin' anythin' but rainbow hair now." Though Applejack thinks Rainbow would look good in any colour, that's probably just Applejack.

"It's iconic," Rainbow agrees and puts it down. "But it's so much work to maintain, you know? Having to section it out, making sure the different colours don't mix..."

Applejack doesn't know, but she nods anyway. She might feel out of place not dyeing her hair sometimes, but when her friends talk about the lengthy process, materials, and cost, she honestly finds it rather silly to go through all that trouble just to change a perfectly fine natural hair colour.

"Ughhh," Rainbow moans. "I should've just done a solid colour as my trademark."

"Then it wouldn't be a trademark."

"True. Too many people have boring, one-coloured hair," Rainbow twirls a multicoloured strand around her finger. "But then, also I was thinking of dyeing it back to something more neutral for Wonderbolts. I dunno, do you think they will think bold colours are unprofessional?"

"Oh. Uh." There it is again, the unpleasant knot forming in her gut. "I'm... sure them Wonderbolts would be fine with it. Doesn't their leader have a neon orange mohawk? That Spitfire lady?"

"Yeah, but that's like, Spitfire. She calls the shots and everything. They'd much sooner report a newbie like me than the big boss."

"Like that's ever stopped you before," Applejack says pointedly.

"Right on the nail," Rainbow snickers, going back to looking at the boxes. Absently, she starts glancing back and forth between Applejack and the boxes. "You know, you should totally let me dye your hair someday," she adds, off-handedly.

Then she reaches for Applejack– and reaches past her neck, to weave her fingers into her hair.

"Your hair is so light-coloured, you don't even have to bleach it before colouring. For me, before I even get to the dyeing part, I always have to spend thirty minutes bleaching my hair and the products dry it so bad, I have to use conditioner to repair it, but you don't even have to. I'm so jealous. "

"If you ever decide to try out some colours, you should get... I mean, maybe not rainbow unless you're a masochist like me. But like... hmm, what would suit you? Mermaid colours? It matches your eyes." Rainbow rattles on, running her fingers through her locks, arm brushing lightly past Applejack's jaw. "Nahh, haha, too exotic for you. Uhh, maybe some pink hues here and there, like, the shade of apple blossoms. Heheheh," she giggles to herself, then pauses. "Huh, AJ. Why's your face all red?"

"Erm!" Applejack jerks away, stumbling back so she can fan herself furiously with her Stetson. "R-reckon the heating's a little strong here. Uh, hey! Looks like the other girls are done buyin' their stuff. Let's regroup, shall we?"

As it turns out, they continue stopping by a bunch of things. First it was a trinket shop which sold cute metallic charms and crocheted keychains. Then they got churros at the outdoors stand while crossing the street. They passed by a clothing store and went in to try on some furry parkas and trench coats, where they took photos and videos and laughed as Pinkie engulfed herself in three layers of down jackets.

By the end of it, Pinkie Pie's got a bright blue scrunchie in her hair, everyone has at least a bag or two of things, not to mention Rarity who's carrying so many things she looks like a Christmas Tree but with bags instead of baubles. "We all look so fabulous today," Rarity said, and then they all took wefies using Rarity's iPhone, showing off their numerous shopping bags beside some funky-looking statues, arranging and rearranging themselves for the perfect pose.

They're queuing up for macarons at a food fair when Rainbow tugs her shirt sleeve. Applejack glances behind her.

"Dude," Rainbow says.

"Uhh, yeah?" Applejack replies.

Rainbow begins, "Don't you..."

Pinkie Pie's voice calls from ahead in the queue. "Applejack, what flavour do you want your macaron?"

"Uh," Applejack raises her voice, "I'm not gettin' any."

"Aww! But there's a group discount if we buy in bulk! C'mon, just pick a flavour, you only have to pay one dollar."

"Uhhh, alright then." Applejack cranes her head to look at the selection on the menu. There's more flavours on there than all the apple varieties than she can name, and she can name a lot. She picks one of those at the top. "Vanilla."

"You, Rainbow Dash?"

"Do they have chocolate?"

"Okie dokie loookie!"

Rainbow turns back to her. "Yeah, anyway. I was gonna ask," she lowers her voice, "didn't you say you had things to buy too?"

"Uh huh..."

"Then? You should say something!" Rainbow cocks her head.

"It's okay," Applejack shrugs. "I mean, they look like they're having fun." As if to highlight her point, the girls giggle ahead of them as they peruse the colourful signs displaying several types of French patisseries.

"Look, if you're awkward about telling them or something, I'll just go over and have a word-" She turns to start marching over-

"No, don't!" Applejack grabs her jacket hood and tugs her back. She shakes her head. "I ain't awkward about it, just... There ain't no sense in spoilin' their merry-makin'."

Rainbow scrunches her nose in that way she does when she's annoyed. "But you actually have things to get! They can 'merry-make' all they want, but they're just wasting your time that way."

"Nah, it's not a totally wasted trip. I managed to get Winona new food too," Applejack says, raising the bag of dog food she'd picked up when they stopped by the pet store to look at bunnies and Fluttershy had talked to the shopkeeper for an hour about bird breeds. "Give an' take, Rainbow. It was awfully nice of 'em to think of me when plannin' this here outing, seein' as I don't usually get to go out with you guys."

"But no, exactly!" Rainbow whisper-exclaims. "They didn't invite you, you invited them! It's your trip!"

"Now now," corrects Applejack, "t'ain't my trip so much as it's a trip for everyone here. An' I'm enjoyin' myself just fine, too!"

Rainbow merely folds her arms and stares at her with those rose-rose eyes.

"Rainbow-"

"Applejack," Rainbow cuts her off. Her shoulders rise and fall. "I won't tell them anything if you don't want me to. But seriously, it won't hurt to live for yourself for a change, yeah?"

"W-well... that's-"

"What are you two whisperin' about there by yourselves?" Pinkie Pie is suddenly between them, waggling her eyebrows. "Huh?? Tell me!"

Applejack yelps, jumping back, as does Rainbow. "Goodness gracious! Give a girl a warning, will ya?"

"Heehee!" Pinkie beams from ear to ear, swinging a bag of macarons in their faces. "C'mon, you two, let me show you the world's best quesadillas just around the corner!"

And so more shopping it is. Lava lamps. Dress rentals. Furniture. Time seems to dissolve into a blur.

"What should we do next?" Pinkie sighs happily, as they're all sitting on a bench together, resting after most of them complained about being tired from walking and Rarity wanted to organise her massive haul.

Rainbow gives Applejack a long look. Applejack doesn't say anything.

"We could watch a movie," Twilight suggests. There's a cinema a little way from them, and virtual movie posters line the walls, blinking showtimes as another screen flashes the trailer for Minions: Rise of Gru.

"Oooh, maybe! What movie?"

"Mmm, I dunno. None of what's showing now really interest me in particular."

"There is one movie I would like to watch..." Fluttershy says, eyes trained on one of the posters.

"What's that, a romcom?" Pinkie squints at the image of a man and woman dressed 18th century style, dancing in front of a picturesque garden and cottage. "Fluttershy has got some game!"

"I read the description online. It's a time travel storyline, and it does sound interesting..." Fluttershy looks at the numbers flicking below it. "Oh, but it's showing quite late. Seven p.m.. Can you girls stay till then?"

"I'll just have to call my parents," Twilight says. "Oh, I do hope they haven't started cooking dinner for me yet."

"It's no problem for me either!"

"Me too."

"Applejack?"

Applejack clears her throat. "I can't stay for that long. You guys go on without me. Also..." She feels Rainbow's eyes burning into the back of her skull. "I kinda still have stuff to get. Yeah."

"Oh wait." Rarity interjects, eyes widening into dinner plates. Horror spreads across her pale face as realisation dawns upon her. "Ohhhh wait. We didn't ask what Applejack was shopping for."

"You don't say," Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes.

"Oh no, you're right!" Fluttershy gasps.

"We were so caught up... that we didn't realise-"

Pinkie wilts, "We're so super, super sorry-"

"It's fine. My fault for not sayin' anything sooner, is all. Just," Applejack sighs. "Just lemme go off and find what I needa find, alright, and you girls can watch your movie."

"Why, but no!" Rarity stands up. "Forget about the movie! We're helping you find it."

"Yeah," the others chorus.

"What time do you have to go?" Twilight asks.

"...Five," Applejack says, heart beating in her throat.

Rainbow checks her watch. "Wow. That's in like, twenty minutes."

Everyone's faces blanch at once.

"Girl, I gotchu." Rainbow grips her shoulder. "Tell us. What do you need?"

Applejack presses her fingers together and takes a deep breath. "You dun happen to know any shop that sells bamboo round these parts, do ya?"

For the next fifteen minutes, Applejack and Rainbow Dash sprint off to look for bamboo in every carpenting shop and everything adjacent they can find in the vicinity on their phones' GPS. The rest sit in the square and look after their belongings while they go deep-diving on every e-commerce site and app conceivable to see if they can order bamboo from anywhere quickly.

At the thirteen-minute mark Rainbow Dash, despairing, is starting to seriously consider breaking off the decorations on the front of a ramen restaurant.

"Property damage," Applejack says. "Also, it's probably made of plastic anyway."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Applejack," Rainbow says, making grabby hands at the fake bamboo. "We just do it real quick, we run, and then we move abroad and change our identities so we never get caught. They can't catch us if they don't know who we are."

The person at the counter looks like they're deciding whether or not to call the cops on them for harrassment.

But luckily, at that moment, her phone rings. It's Twilight phoning them, saying they've found an offer from someone living nearby. They arrange with the seller to meet at the square, but the guy says he'll take another ten minutes to arrive. It's a little expensive, but it's the best they can get so Applejack waits, biting her nails as her watch ticks on past five. There's a delay of five minutes, but soon he arrives and a bundle is deposited into Applejack's arms.

She stands up with it and looks at the rest of them.

"Go on," her friends urge her off. "You can pay us back another day!"

She gulps, stands up, and nods. The way the five of them are looking at her, something tells her that this conversation isn't over just yet.

But for now? She's scrambling on the subway, leaping into her van at school, and setting off, without so much time as for a goodbye.

~~~

3- Everywhere I Go

~~~

Applejack is running.

The orange sunset bleeds into the horizon, its long rays and even longer shadows seeping into the grass fields. The sun itself, sleepily bidding the day goodbye, drifts toward the west, half-obscured in glowing wreaths of clouds. Applejack has lived in her village long enough to tell the time from the sun's position in the sky: it should be around half past seven now. The local school closes at seven.

Not bothering to drive back to Sweet Apple Acres first, she had driven straight to the local school, slammed on the brakes with a deafening screeeech, and hopped off. And now she's running, running along the dirt path to get to the school.

By the time she reaches, sweating heavily, there's only a scant few students there, mostly the first-graders. They're sitting on the wooden porch just a little way inside the gates, swatting the flies that buzz around the oil lamps and chittering among themselves.

"Apple Bloom! I'm here!" she announces loudly, huffing and panting. "Sorry I'm late, I-" she cuts herself short, scanning the crowd.

The first-graders look at her, then look at each other, then look back at her, confusion palpable in their expressions. It is then that Applejack realises—with a start—the distinct lack of a tell-tale red bow in the crowd.

Heart beginning to pound, Applejack searches harder, scrutinising each and every little face intently, but still no sign of Apple Bloom. Terrifying scenarios spring forth in her mind, but she wills herself to stay calm. She's got to be somewhere. Maybe she's at the playground?

She whirls her head in the sand pit's direction, but there's no movement there, only a lone tire swing that rocks in the evening breeze. Think... think... Maybe she'd gotten lost in the school? Applejack makes a start toward the schoolhouse, where she catches sight of the school's only teacher, Miss Cheerilee, in the process of locking up the schoolhouse's front door. She bounds over immediately.

"Why hello there, Applejack," Miss Cheerilee says upon noticing her arrival.

"Howdy there, Miss Cheerilee," Applejack responds with a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank goodness yer here. Y'all wouldn't've happened to know where Apple Bloom is?"

"Oh, your sister?" Miss Cheerilee blinks in surprise. "She's already gone home herself."

"She went home?!!" Applejack's eyes bulge. "What in ever-lovin' galoshes was she thinkin'? She's supposed to wait for me!"

Miss Cheerilee slides the rusty latch in place. "Now there, it was gettin' late, and maybe she was getting tired of waiting."

"Still!--" Applejack waves her hands about. "T'ain't safe for a little girl like her to be traipsin' home on her lonesome!"

"She is eleven," Miss Cheerilee reasons. She nudges a key into the lock, frowning in concentration when it doesn't go in on the first try. "Most fifth-graders can get home by themselves."

"But she could run into all sorts of trouble. Gettin' lost! Falling trees! Coyotes! Wildfires!" Applejack gulps, shivering. "You know it!"

To that, Miss Cheerilee doesn't say anything. She turns her focus back to the door, finally managing to slot the key in and turn it. Then, with a heavy clang-clang, she gives it a good shake, making sure that it's locked. She straightens, regarding her, and pats her on the back.

"Run along, sweetheart. Your sister an' family must be waitin' for you at home."

So Applejack bursts through the front doors of the farmhouse.

"I am," Applejack wheezes, "so sorry—"

From where she's sitting in the couch, Granny Smith looks up as she enters, mid-knitting some kind of sweater. Winona is curled up beside her in a ball, sound asleep. Making a noise, Granny puts down her needles, rising up to greet her.

"Ohhhh, don't you worry yer blonde noggin'." Trotting over, Granny envelops her in a hug, helping her set down her things. "Calm down, dearie. Where have you been all day? Gosh, don't you look plum exhausted," she fusses over her frazzled hair.

"I'm sorry," Applejack apologises again. "I was out buyin' stuff together with my friends, but... reckon I got distracted," she pushes Granny away gently, burying her face in her hands. Guilt gnaws at her; eats at her from the inside out, like dense smoke filling her head. "Gosh darn it... I didn't do anythang. I didn't make dinner... I didn't fetch Apple Bloom..."

"It's fine! Big Mac made dinner. We're done eatin' already, but yer share's still on the table!" Apple Bloom's head pops out from her room. "And I just went home myself. Ohh! You got mah bamboo!"

Her eyes light up. She runs over to the bundle and practically nuzzles it to her face. Then she sets it down, taking out the stems one by one from the packaging to inspect them. "These look good! Thanks so much, Applejack!"

Applejack's eyes dimly register the girl coming toward her, and then register the girl leaving for her room.

"Yeah, I nearly forgot," Applejack calls after her sharply, before she can disappear. On hearing the tone in her voice, the girl freezes in her tracks, the initial excitement in her bouncing figure evaporating in an instant. "Apple Bloom. Why didn't y'all wait for me to come pick you up?"

Apple Bloom turns back around and blinks, wavering. "Uhh... I waited for you for one hour an' a half... and you didn't come, so I thought you were busy or somethin'."

"You could've gotten into an accident. You could've gotten hurt," Applejack emphasises. "You worried me somethin' awful."

Apple Bloom furrows her brows. "I mean, the sun was settin'. Isn't it more dangerous to be going home after the sun sets? Also, I'm old enough to be going home myself! Scootaloo, Sweetie, all my friends go home by themselves."

"Don't talk back to me," Applejack growls. "If I instruct you to wait for me, then you're supposed to wait for me. I don't care what yer teacher says. Don't do that again. Understood?"

"......" Apple Bloom opens and closes her mouth, "Understood." Head bowed, she hugs the bamboo bundle against herself as she retreats mutely into her room.

Applejack stands there, fidgeting. Granny tries to say something again, but Applejack turns away abruptly, stalking into the kitchen.

She heads for the sink first, and picks up the sponge and detergent. She reaches for the dishes–

–only to find that they are all cleaned and dried.

Okay. That's fine. She washes the sponge, by force of habit, wrings it dry and puts it back on the rack. She goes for the laundry basket next, about to load it into the washing machine–

Then she realises the basket is empty, and the washing machine is whirring steadily.

"Applejack."

Applejack turns around and sees Big Mac standing in the doorway, his figure lumbering and silent.

"I've finished the chores," he states simply. After a pause, he adds, "You know, it's okay to have fun with your friends once in a while. You've had a long day. Eat yer dinner. Wash up. Go to bed."

"I suppose," Applejack mumbles.

So she does.

And she does.

~~~

The next few days—or maybe it was weeks—seem to pass by in a blur. Every day is just kind of the same. Wake up. Go to school, attend lessons. Come back home. Farmwork, homework, chores, then sleep. One day she opens her eyes, drags herself in front of the bathroom mirror and watches it intently. Back and forth, back and forth—the rhythmic motion of her hand holding her toothbrush distorts in the crack on her glass reflection.

"Rrrrngh.... Pweuggh!" Spitting out the frothy toothpaste in her mouth, she gargles the rest out with water, which drains down the sink pipes with a gurgle. She sets down the cup, gently, because she doesn't want to wake the family. Roosters crow in the distance as she does so; she wonders if they've always sounded so far away.

She leaves and makes for the kitchen. On the way, she passes by Apple Bloom's room, and pauses. With a creak, she pushes open the door and peeks inside, taking in the bed against the right end where the child's small figure lies curled up in a mass of blankets, chest rising and falling peacefully. On the room's floor is the package of bamboo, now opened, a saw, pencils and measuring tape, and several poles cut to varying lengths—shishi-odoshi parts. Applejack's nose scrunches at the sight.

"I done told that gurl not to leave tools lyin' around in her room." Tutting in a low breath, Applejack pushes the door all the way open, strides in, and gathers up the mess. "An' not to saw in her room, neither! She's gunna ruin the floor."

She deposits the items in the living room in a neat pile, and stares at it for a while.

Recently, Apple Bloom hasn't exactly been cooperative. See, after the success of their first blueprint, Apple Bloom had asked Applejack if she could continue helping her out with it, and Applejack had agreed. They'd had a great time together the first few days, when Applejack showed Apple Bloom how to use the saw properly and they'd marked out bamboo side-by-side, chatting and laughing. Then Applejack would sometimes come home earlier than her and notice how Apple Bloom's sawing was crooked, or mistakes in her measurements, and well, of course Applejack would sit down to fix them. And since she was on a roll, she'd do a little extra, like taking it upon herself to assemble some of the parts.

Apple Bloom seemed upset with that. She'd even snapped at her that day, saying that it was "her project" and that she "should be the one doing it". Applejack can't fathom why she gets so worked up. She should really be grateful for all the help she's been giving her.

Sighing, she stands up and heads to the kitchen. There, she bumbles around in the dark, lit only by a single lamp and light from the heated oven. Somewhere between that and getting in the van, breakfast is prepared and she's eaten.

These days, the roads at dawn are long and silent, save for a dialling ringtone that never picks up. She knows that sometimes Rainbow doesn't pick up, but it feels like she hasn't picked up in an awfully long time. Maybe it hasn't even been that long, and it's just Applejack's sense of time that's messed up, but what was once anticipation gives way to a dull ache in her heart. So she turns up the volume of the radio and tries to sing along, but it bothers her just how many of the songs there are about love. Songs about having a crush, songs about dating, songs about breaking up. Why are there so many? What's the big deal?

Finally, Achy Breaky Heart comes on. You can tell my lips to tell my fingertips, they won't be reaching out for you no more, Billy Ray Cyrus croons into the speakers, and that's when Applejack stretches over and jabs her finger into the switch, plunging the van into silence. The music is never as loud as the ringing, anyway. After a while, even that stops too.

The roads seem to stretch on forever.

~~~

ME: The cider season starts this Saturday. U swingin' by?

Best apple cider all year, you know it

RAINBOW DASH: dude sorry

I have flight training every weekend now UGHH i wish i could come

Can u grab me a bottle or smthing

ME: Sure ok

Cider season is busy. Today, it's the grand opening and they're off to a running start. Makeshift tents are set up on the grass hill smack between Sweet Apple Acres and the Harvest compound, white tarps spread out across wooden beams to block any possible rain— though today it's as sunny as it can get. People are milling all about, peering at the displays, enjoying the weather as they exchange pleasantries on the various benches, or sampling fruit and vegetables, brews and baked goods.

Applejack, from where she's standing behind the outdoor register, leans back to wipe the sweat rolling down her forehead and neck as she clears the next group of customers, an elderly man towing along two excitable grandkids who have picked for themselves a six-bottle crate of apple cider and a turnover.

"Cut the turnover in half, please," he says, "and serve it with two napkins."

"Got it, sir," Applejack pauses in sliding the turnover into the bag to snatch up a knife and carve it in two, then arches her back over to swipe for the napkin stack. "Unghh... here you go, sir. Remember to check out the carrot selection by the Harvests just over yonder! The sweetest carrots in town!"

"Maybe I will," the man says as he drops a clattering handful of coins onto the counter.

Counting them speedily, Applejack slides it into the cashier, rings it and waves them off with the smile that's been plastered on her face all day. "Thank y'all so much for comin'. Have a nice day!"

She watches as the three merge back into the sea of patrons mingling with each other. There's many a familiar face here: she spots the trio of local florists—Rose, Lily Valley, and Daisy—checking out the crates of fresh fruit. The Berry family is here with their children, a picnic mat laid out on the grass where Mr. and Mrs. Berry sit with mugs of cider as the Berry Jrs romp around the trees. Even Strawberry Sunrise is here, pointedly avoiding the apple products as she hangs around the carrot side of the tents. Strawberry Sunrise has always been vocal about her dislike of apples, something Applejack can never understand, but to each their own (even if Strawberry's taste is, objectively, wrong).

She sees Carrot Top there, who's manning the carrot juice sampling table with one of her siblings. She catches her eye, and feels the smile on her face widen into a genuine grin. They wave at each other.

It's at that moment when, suddenly, a throat clears behind her, and she turns around. Big Mac is there, his apron and gloves stripped off from when he had been working to reheat the apple turnovers. His matted ginger hair is combed back and obscured by a cap with an apple printed on it.

"Oh, Big Mac," Applejack calls, "it's your turn to cover the register?"

In response, Big Mac levels her a stare.

Here's the thing about Big Mac. He doesn't really talk. He only hums, nods and says "eeyup", or shakes his head and says "eenope". When he does speak he only speaks by strict necessity, when there's no other choice. Most of the time, the rest of them have to figure out what he wants to convey by his thousand-yard stare. It's a good thing most villagers know him well enough by now to passably understand his facial expressions, and his own family can read the faintest twitches and shifts of his muscles. Chewing on the inside of his left cheek means I am nervous and want to leave. Biting his upper lip means I am hungry but not terribly so. Flattened eyebrows and a glare mean dun even think about stealing our equipment or I will put yer noggin' through a wall.

Currently, the stare he's giving her is you know that's not what I wanted to talk about.

Because on the rare occasion when he does want to tell someone something, he will stop at nothing to be heard, and heard properly. Hence why Big Mac has been trailing her like a particularly pestilent fruit bat for the past hour.

Good thing, then, that Applejack is an Apple to the core—thick-headed stubbornness and all. She throws her head to aside, green eyes darting about desperately for an opening. There, she sees it: the flapping, sunlit banner of BARNYARD BARGAINS and the plump man with oil-slicked black hair planted in front of it, addressing a bunch of out-of-towners.

"Oh look, there's Filthy Rich. I gotta go over to talk to him," she blurts, slipping out from behind the counter. Pushing past her brother, she jogs off to the podium.

Filthy Rich notices her when she reaches. He whispers something to his undoubtedly important patrons, who nod and leave in a flock. Adjusting his tie, Filthy Rich turns his attention to her.

"Howdy there, Mr. Rich," Applejack removes her hat and holds it to her chest, as is custom.

"Hello there, Applejack." The corners of Filthy Rich's eyes crinkle in a smile. His moustache still looks as abhorrent as Applejack remembers it, moving along with the smile so it turns from a drooping rat to a rat doing yoga. Not much better. But, apart from the poor choice in facial hairstyle, Filthy Rich has aged like fine wine. "It's good to see you again."

Applejack puts her hat back on. "We sure are glad to have you back in person at Sweet Apple Acres today, sir. "

"You have here a magnificent cider season, Miss Apple," Filthy Rich chuckles. "Why, even if I weren't here to oversee the anniversary promotions, I'd come down here every year just to have a sampling of the finest apple cider in the country."

Applejack blushes from the praise. "Why, thank you sir. We at Sweet Apple Acres do put our everythang into that cider."

"Like how your Granny Smith puts it..." Filthy Rich smiles. "Made with love and integrity..."

"And only apples of highest quality," Applejack finishes with a beam of her own.

"I'd toast to that," Filthy Rich reaches to the side and holds an empty shot glass beneath the tap of a cider barrel. "Ah... are you old enough to drink now, Miss Apple?"

"Within reason," Applejack's lips curve. Mr. Rich's lips turn up as well. Giving her a knowing glance, he fills another glass to hand it to her.

"Cheers to the new season?"

"Cheers to the new season," Applejack echoes as she takes the glass. They knock their glasses together, clink, and then they sip. The cool liquid touches her lips, sweetness and tartness swirling all in one, and she swallows. Like a cloud sinking down her throat, the woody aftertaste settles in the pit of her stomach, warming her from the inside out.

"Perfection," Filthy Rich voices her thoughts. Applejack wipes her mouth on her arm, while Mr. Rich retrieves a silk kerchief from his coat pocket to dab at his own.

"It's difficult to stop at one glass, but alas, duty calls. Much better for those only here on vacation, not business... Come to think of it," he pauses. "Where's your rainbow-haired friend? I remember she's always the one begging for more cider. Is she late again?" He huffs with mirth. "If that girl just came on time, she would have more than enough to satiate her thirst."

Applejack shakes her head. "Nah, Rainbow ain't comin'. She's... busy this year."

"A pity," Filthy Rich looked like he was about to say more, but he must've caught something in her eyes, because he doesn't. He pauses, deliberating. Then, he changes the subject. "So, how's school?"

"Same old, same old," Applejack says. She changes the subject again, "And how's business?"

"Well..." Filthy Rich's moustache twitches, but the man lapses quickly into business-mode. "Well! The numbers so far are looking promising, and let's just say in the time we've had today," he leans in close, moustache lifting as he whispers, "I've managed to persuade some big players to invest in Barnyard Bargains, or at the very least, rouse their interest." He chuckles and leans back, shaking the rest of his glass. "Plus, with cider like this? This will surely be a splendid season. "

"If the Pears don't steal our business, that is," Applejack says dryly.

Applejack wasn't lying when she said the Apples get along with almost everyone in the village, but there is one exception: that being, the Pears. The Pears and Apples have a long-standing family feud. No one knows how it started, but all they know is that Granny gets really worked up whenever they are mentioned and refuses to explain. Either way, they're rivals now. The Pears are constantly trying to outdo them, and the Apples are always trying to one-up them. Just little things just to spite them. If the Apples got a brand new shovel, the Pears would get three more of the same brand. If the Apples were having a sale, the Pears were sure to be having a sale too, even though the pear harvesting season is a whole month earlier. And then there were the arguments over who was the better farmer and which fruit was better. Petty disputes that didn't matter.

Even right now, similar tents are stretched in front of the Pear compound, even though their retailer isn't even Barnyard Bargains. Grand Pear, the eldest of the family, sits in a rocking chair reading a newspaper.

"Oh," Filthy Rich blinks. "I wouldn't worry about them if I were you, Miss Apple."

"Why not?"

Filthy Rich contemplates. "Though they are by no means affiliated with the business, the Pears and I go way back. They are good and kindly folk, just like your family. Have a chat with them someday, you might just be surprised."

"Uh huh," Applejack scoffs as she glimpses Grand Pear giving them the stink-eye as he whispers to another Pear. "I dun think so."

~~~

Sometimes, now, Applejack takes a detour on the way home. Instead of going straight out the school gate once lessons have dismissed, she stops by the school dormitories. She first visits the boarding canteen, then the track. Then she goes into the stairwell and trudges up five flights of steps, walking down the end of the corridor to the last door. Room 520.

She remembers a time when she would stand outside this door and just pull, and the door would simply open. Rainbow would be inside, lounging on her bed or on the floor in nothing but a T-shirt and ripped shorts like a human-sized cat. She'd be scrolling on her phone, playing a video game, or, very rarely, doing assignments. Then, catching sight of her, Rainbow would grin lazily, like a real Cheshire, and invite her in, and they'd annhilate the final boss of whatever new game Rainbow is playing together. Or go out for a run. Or compete over something so random and spontaneous it would never have occurred to Applejack herself, sending pleasant tingles of thrill down her spine.

Now the door is locked. She knocks, but the occupant is never around. Sometimes she considers just calling Rainbow and telling her, I'm here, you wanna hang out or somethin'? It feels weird though, because in the past, Rainbow was usually the one initiating everything with her. Honestly, there isn't a point trying, is there? She always knows what the answer will be.

RAINBOW DASH: So sorry man, I'm busy. another time?

And so the door of room 520 stays locked.

~~~

On a Tuesday afternoon, Ms Cadance calls her into the guidance office.

The office is nice. Cosy all around, with dimmed lights and drawn curtains and beanbags that obscure the sharp corners where the walls meet. Motivational posters are pinned to a giant corkboard alongside a shelf lined with teddy bears and the odd cartoon figurine. Ms Cadance, the doe-eyed guidance counsellor with candy-coloured hair, sits in the middle of this office behind her desk. There's a jar of sweets on it. As Applejack sinks into the cushiony chair on the other end, Ms Cadance unscrews the cap and lifts the jar in her direction to offer her a pick, but Applejack declines with the wave of a hand.

"No thank you, ma'am."

"Ahh, I forgot." Ms Cadance makes a 'gotcha' pose at her. "You don't like sweets."

"Yeah." Not that kind, anyway. Too sweet. Tastes fake.

"Good for you. Healthy lifestyle," she remarks, putting the jar away. Applejack smiles awkwardly.

Ms Cadance was the first person Applejack had ever talked to in CHS, when she was lost in the hallways, unsure of where to go. She'd pulled her into her office and aided her through a bunch of study and living arrangements, as well as given her some resource booklets to get her started on the Canterlot way of life. Overall, Ms Cadance is a very friendly, genuine and helpful counsellor, and has a keen memory of the students under her care, though Applejack wouldn't go so far as to describe them as close on a personal level.

"Well, how are you feeling, Applejack?" Ms Cadance chirps. "Coping well with school?"

"Alright, I guess," Applejack shrugs. "There's nothin' much... other than finals, of course, but for now, there's nothin' much."

"Ah, isn't it stressful being a student these days," Ms Cadance fans herself. "That's understandable. But don't worry, you still have many months to gear yourself up! Remember, the finals are a marathon, not a sprint."

"Yeah... anyway...Is there anythang you asked me here for?" Applejack says, squirming slightly in her seat. "My grades last year weren't too bad, are they?"

"Straight to the chase, Applejack. Fine, we'll do things your style," Ms Cadance 'gotchas' her again. "And oh, no, not at all. I'm only calling you here to ask you a few questions, mm-hm? Don't stress." Humming, Ms Cadance turns around to rifles through the wall of oak cabinets behind her. Then she produces a blue binder labelled Apple Jacqueline, flipping it open. "Have you started thinking about what you're going to study in university?"

"Agriculture, I guess." she shrugs.

"Hmm," Ms Cadance studies her. "And you're decided on it? Remember, you're going to be studying this subject for the next four or five years. Also, do you have other choices? In case it doesn't work out."

"Other choices..." Applejack racks her brain. "Well...uh...I dunno, ma'am." She's never given other options a thought. She's always given the same answer to these questions, because... well... farm.

"Think about something you like to do? Any hobbies?" Ms Cadance prompts.

"I guess, I, er," Applejack thinks back to when she was absently sketching out the workings of Apple Bloom's shishi-odoshi, imagining all the parts moving together as one. "I like buildin' things?"

Ms Cadance beams. "Then you could think about Engineering."

"Oh..."

"Or maybe even Architecture, if you're into that. You can explore the universities' websites, see if you like anything. There are many courses that they offer. In fact, we're even having a school career fair, though that's still quite far away from now. But in the meantime, you can do your own research. It's never too early to start."

"...Maybe."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Ms Cadance notes. "Is something wrong?"

"To be honest, ma'am," Applejack chews her bottom lip. Below the table, her fingers dig into her clammy palms, where Ms Cadance can't see them. "I might not be goin' to university at all," she admits.

"Oh? Why?"

"I mean, there's not really a point, is there?" Applejack says dryly. "I don't need a college degree to run the farm."

Ms Cadance tilts her head. "So, after high school... you're just going to go back to working on the farm?"

"...Yeah." When Ms Cadance puts in that way, it sounds kind of sad. "I mean, there isn't really much of a choice. The farm ain't gonna run itself, and you know..." She ruffles her own hair and lets out a long, deep breath. "The farm counts on me. I dun have anyone to fall back on, and I can't rightly expect an eighty-year-old woman or an eleven-year-old child to do the grunt work and manage the business stuff."

"Ah," Ms Cadance hums in thought, tapping her fingers together. "What about your brother? Can't he help?"

"I guess there's him," Applejack concedes reluctantly. "But... t'ain't fair. He gave up goin' to college so he could support the farm with me. He had offers, y'know, from all the way across the country. But he gave it up. T'ain't fair at all for me to abandon him this time around so I can go and pursue a degree, or whatnot."

"Does it have to be one or the other?"

"Yes," Applejack says. "Money is an issue too. Wait," she interrupts Ms Cadance before she can speak again. She sighs, a sour taste in her mouth. "I know what yer gonna tell me, ma'am. I've heard it a million times before: Oh, no! Go chase yer dreams! Follow yer heart! An' I'm sayin', sometimes it just ain't realistic." She puts a hand over her heart. "And it's okay! I love the farm, and I love seein' mah family. You dun need to try an' convince me that the farm ain't important, or somethin' like that, because it is to me, and I wouldn't give them up for the world, much less a college major—"

"I wasn't trying to tell you to give up the farm," Ms Cadance cuts her off, gently. "I was just suggesting, rather, a third path. A path that can give you the best of both worlds."

Shakily, Applejack inhales. "Such as?"

"There are scholarships targeted at students from rural areas like yours," Ms Cadance taps a few things into her computer, pulls up a website, and scrolls through the list for Applejack to see. "Ones that allow you to attend college with arrangements to allow you to go back to the farm regularly, similar to what you're doing right now. The scholarship covers a large part of the fees for relevant courses, and the courses teach you things that will directly help you better your farm or even the village."

"Okay," Applejack says, "but scholarships need you to have good grades and extracurriculars. Of both, I have none."

"Then sign up for some," Ms Cadance suggests. "Application windows are still open. And your grades aren't that bad, you just have to study a little harder and you will have a decent shot. You don't have to get into the top-tier colleges either, there are plenty of reputable universities that don't have high cut-offs."

"But... but... I don't need to," Applejack persists, "I can just stay on the farm for life and I'm fine with it. Really."

"Then, I've been wondering," Ms Cadance rests her elbows on the table. "Why, Applejack, did you accept the offer to Canterlot High all those years ago?"

Applejack is silent.

"Think about it," Ms Cadance urges her. "Alright?"

~~~

Applejack's footsteps slow in the hallway.

There's a noticeboard on wheels that isn't usually there. Peering at it, she sees that it's covered in posters advertising tryouts for the school's various clubs.

The poster for the track club catches her attention. There's a group picture of the club's members here, thirty-odd students on a field in gym shorts and matching T-shirts grinning sweatily into the camera. In the centre of them all, the captain, Rainbow Dash, raises the school flag. Applejack's eyes linger on the proud smirk on her face, frozen in time.

"Hello there, Applejack."

"Whoaaaaaa nelly!" Applejack jumps so hard her hat lurches off her head, going airborne for a few seconds. Then she slaps a hand over it and turns around squarely to see Fluttershy standing behind her

"Oh, um, did I scare you?" the taller girl stammers, curling into herself. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Applejack snorts. "Nonsense. Ya just surprised me, is all." Casually, she leans against the wall. "What're you doin' here?"

"Oh, I was just passing by," Fluttershy tucks a pink strand behind her ear, peering at the noticeboard too. "What are you looking at? Clubs? I thought you said you never had the time."

"Yeah, well, Ms Cadance just done called me up and told me I had to bump up my extracurriculars, so ain't got much of a choice now," Applejack grumbles.

"Ah, I see," Fluttershy makes a noise. "So what are you planning to join?"

"I was fixin' to join, uhh," Applejack glances at the noticeboard again, flinging her gaze at the furthest thing she can find from the track picture—some poster with a photo of a girl with neon turquoise hair, surrounded by scarily detailed diagrams of human anatomy. She squints at the cursive title above it. "I've always been interested in astro... anpro... apothecary?"

"Oh! Lyra's club! I didn't know you liked anthropology," Fluttershy says, eyebrows raising. "Well, but I must say I wasn't expecting that. I thought you'd join track."

Applejack bites her lip. "Uh. Why?"

"Oh, simple," Fluttershy says, turning shining teal eyes on her. "Because you like..."

"I like..."

"Sports!" Fluttershy finishes with a smile. "You're always such a good runner during P.E.. Plus," she pauses, "Rainbow Dash is there too."

Applejack chokes. "Ahahaha! Yeah! It would be plum great to be in the same club with my best friend. Uh huh." She laughs as she smooths back her bangs, forehead suddenly sweaty.

"So you are joining track after all?"

"Well, I'd love to, but no." Applejack's eyes rove over the training schedule. Three hours of training per session, three times a week. "It's way too heavy of a commitment. I'm taking out a little time, but I can't afford to take out that much time." If she could really spend another nine hours a week with Rainbow, she would in a heartbeat. But life doesn't always give you what you want.

"Ahh, yeah," she nods. A little silence settles between them.

"...Applejack?"

"Yeah?"

Fluttershy hesitates, looking down at her shoes. When she speaks again, it's in a low, nervous murmur, but it's audible nonetheless. "You know... back on our shopping trip together..."

"—I already said, it dun matter."

"No, but still, you deserve an apology," Fluttershy says firmly. "And I was the one who suggested we tag along in the first place. I feel really bad for not putting your considerations first on that day. We all do."

"Considerations which I should have just made clear from the beginning if I wanted. I know it's hard to understand, but..." Applejack swallows. "I just didn't feel like disrupting y'all, okay? I did have a good time. Honest. And y'all did manage to help me get what I needed in the end, so we're even now."

"Well, actually, I do kind of understand," Fluttershy interjects, looking up. "I'm a big sister too. I have a little brother, and he is the most gigantic asshole I know," her face blanches at that as a hand flies over her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Applejack sniggers. "Do go on."

"Yes, what I meant to say, was," Fluttershy bites her lip as she composes herself. "Sometimes when he whines and demands to get his way, I let him have it, even though it's not what I really want," she sighs and hugs her books to her chest. "Maybe it's the same for you, maybe it's not, but I think as big sisters— especially when there's a large age gap—we're used to compromising and letting things pass quietly because it's not worth the trouble."

Applejack doesn't say anything, but nods quietly.

"But, you don't have to do that around us," Fluttershy emphasises, her gaze serious. "You're one of our cherished friends. We are equals," she grasps her shoulder, "so if you ever need someone to talk to, we're all here. I know that you're busy, but if you ever need anything, we can call or text, or whatever you need."

"...Okay."

"Good," she lets out a sigh of relief. "...Want a hug?"

"Sure."

Fluttershy encircles her in a warm embrace, patting her back gently. Applejack feels her shoulders relax, like a heavy load being taken off her. They separate, exchanging smiles, and Applejack feels a lot better. She can sense Fluttershy does too.

"So, if not track, then what are you gonna join, Applejack?" she questions.

"Well..." Applejack hesitates, her gaze sweeping over the numerous posters.

~~~

Applejack goes for the track tryouts anyway.

The running track, like everything else in CHS, is huge. First of all, CHS has its own in-built stadium, with stands and floodlights and everything. At first glance, the track looks like any standard oval track, a 400-metre red loop around a football field of artificial grass, but there's actually a section that branches off into a longer version of the track that goes back around the stands and the nearest school block. The longer version makes one lap come to around 750 metres and goes over hilly areas, and thus runners usually use that one when they want to give their endurance a greater challenge.

Or when Coach is feeling spicy. Like today.

"Alright, punks!" the track coach, Iron Will, barks into his megaphone. "You are here for track tryouts! If you're not, I don't give a crap. If you're here now, you run or I'll drag your sorry arse back." He squints at the three boys at the back talking inattentively among themselves. "You think you're tough shit, huh? Everyone, we're doing the long track today, since you guys are so damn confident. Seven laps. Lead the way, Bulk!"

"YEEAAAAAH!" howls Bulk Biceps, the vice captain. Flexing his bulging pectorals, then his massive quads, he marches to the front and squats in preparation, snorting like a bull. The students visibly shudder, and shuffle in line behind him. At the signal of Iron Will, they're off.

Applejack isn't really one for speed, but if there's one thing she's good for, it's her stamina. The overconfident zealots zoom ahead of her, sticking their tongues out at her as they go, but lose breath after a round or two, and Applejack overtakes them from there. Watching the egoistical smirks fizzle off their faces, clearly not expecting this 'backward country bumpkin' to beat them in something, fills her with a thin satisfaction—but it's not nearly enough. She's far too busy looking for something, or someone, who isn't there.

Soon, her own thudding footsteps join the stomping ones of Bulk Biceps, who, like her, goes slow but steady. When he notices her, he gives her a goofy grin, slowing his pace down a little for Applejack to catch up to him.

"Hey!" he belts out, seemingly not tired at all. "What's up!" He squints at her. "You new?"

"Yes, but no," Applejack answers. "I mean, I ain't no freshman, an' I've seen you guys around before, but I ain't ever tried for track, either."

"Huh, why not? You seem good at running to Bulk," he remarks, nodding his head at the runners who have given up and are just walking, or else are sitting on the track and gasping for air while Iron Will blasts threats of collateral damage at them on his megaphone's highest setting: Still think you're cut out for running? Why are you even here? Get up and continue!

"Wasn't all that interested in it," Applejack says cursorily. She pauses. "Ya wouldn't happen to know where Rainbow is?"

"Oh! You know Rainbow Dash!" Bulk's mouth forms an 'O'.

Applejack smiles wryly. "I think everyone knows Rainbow Dash."

"Ohhhh. Yeaaah," he blinks slowly. "She's... not here."

"The captain of the team isn't here to observe tryouts?"

"Yeah, but Bulk doesn't know why," Bulk shrugs his shoulders. "Could be anywhere. That one, busy these days." Then he squints at her again closely. Does a double-take, as recognition sparks in his eyes: "Oh! Now I remember you. You're that girl who came in a tie with Rainbow Dash in first year!"

"Ah," Applejack averts her gaze. "Yup, that's me."

"Distance running, I still remember," Bulk smacks his fists together, beaming in excitement. "Bulk was there, you know, running in the same race as you two. But Bulk was far behind, of course. You're so cool, man. Bulk better at running now, but Bulk never came close to beating Rainbow Dash. Not even once."

"It wasn't no big deal, really..."

"Itsa big deal!" Bulk huffs and puffs out his chest. "Bulk wants to run like you. What's your name? Bulk wanna know the name of CHS track's latest member," he grins.

"Uhh... I'm Applejack," she says, but shakes her head with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I know I'm here for tryouts, but I'm not gonna join the club. Don't have the time for it, you see."

"Awww, man, that's a pity. But hey! Applejack," Bulk shrugs as they both slow to a halt at the finish line. "If you can't join the team, maybe you can come join us at practice. Could really use someone to take Rainbow Dash down a peg."

"Maybe," Applejack says. They stay at the finish line for a while, talking amicably until everyone has completed the run and Iron Will dismisses them with a cooldown exercise and a hearty roar of affirmation. As they bid their farewells at the lockers, Applejack rummages about in her bag to retrieve a bottle.

"Hey, help pass this to Rainbow fer me when you see her, will ya? I might not be seein' her around much, so..." She shrugs.

"Fresh apple cider," Bulk Biceps reads the label. "Hmmm, alright! I'll do that for ya."

"It was nice meeting ya, Bulk," she tips her hat as she leaves, "a real pleasure."

He beams and waves. "Back at youuu!"

~~~

Applejack still glimpses Rainbow Dash on the TV sometimes, because the press can't seem to stop yapping about their shiny new Wonderbolt. Once, Applejack was at Target wondering if she should ask Rainbow if she needs anything picked up for her, when she hears her: as in, she hears Rainbow's breathy voice giggling over the mall speakers.

Looking up, she'd seen a television broadcasting a documentary: Rainbow Dash, leaning back in the seat of a small plane as she narrates, voice just audible over the whirring of engines. The camera affixed to the roof of the cockpit afforded a view of the cerulean sky behind her, and the ground kilometres below her.

Applejack's breath had caught as Rainbow teased the joystick, sending the plane into series of rapid rolls, then lurching spins, eliciting gasps from the talk hosts in the back seats. Applejack, too, had felt weightless for a second when she watched Rainbow's plane twirl and zip among those clouds so high. In a close-up shot, Rainbow grinned from behind her helmet's visor like she was having the time of her life. And she probably was.

At this point, Applejack can't help but think that she's just chasing a shadow. An imagining, let's say, of the past. She needs to stop forgetting that she's not a fourteen-year-old who can afford to get down in the dumps over puppy love, and Rainbow isn't the fourteen-year-old she knew back then anymore: the one who never had anything but a big mouth and time. Rainbow Dash is on her way to becoming a world-class aerobatic pilot, and Applejack is...

Applejack is...

~~~

According to rumour, Iron Will is more pissed than a bull with its horns pulled off after she'd rejected track's offer, but Applejack has other things to worry about. On a Thursday afternoon, Applejack strolls into an unused classroom tucked away on the sixth floor in a corner, so secluded that she hadn't known it existed until today. One look at the classroom's door tells her that she's in the right place: spray painted all over it is a realistic portrait of a salmon with feet and a billion other similarly surrealistic doodles.

Decor Club. One-and-a-half hour, once a week, no auditions required to enter. There isn't even a sign-up form to fill in; the poster says to "just walk in anytime". Now, the Decor Club is not to be confused with Art Club, the one that's vaunted on national TV and advertised on the pages of their open house brochures. Decor Club is a student-founded interest group started by salty Art Club rejects and their friends who liked the idea of doing art in a club but didn't want the pressure of representing the school for competitions. That's not to say the Decor Club does nothing... Well, Applejack isn't entirely sure what it is they do. But that's what she's here to find out.

Pushing open the door, she finds a bunch of students not so much seated as they are arranged in the classroom. Some are in chairs behind a desk, normal, some of them are sitting on top of the desks, still normal, and then there are some just sprawled out on the floor like octopuses. They all seem visibly stressed, shoulders hunched and muttering amongst themselves in frantic tones, while those that aren't participating in the discussion are slumped over like the very life has been sucked out of them.

Strange. Applejack hadn't been expecting anything of Decor Club, but she'd thought they would be chill, to say the least. Not...this.

She hovers in the doorway, unsure what to do. That's when one of the octopus students cracks an eyelid open to appraise her.

"You're in the wrong place," he croaks, still laying on the floor, "this is the Decor Club's room."

"Uh, yeah," Applejack blinks. "I'm here to join Decor Club."

"Oh! You are?" he jolts, and instantly leaps up from the ground. He takes a moment to orient himself, as if he really has eight limbs and is getting used to operating with four. Then he stalks over—on two legs—to greet her.

"Hey!" he flashes a weary smile. "Oh, thank everything you're here. We've been in need of more people for a while. Uh, I'm Wizkid, the chairperson of Decor Club...for now at least," he chuckles as he offers a hand out.

"Hey there yerself, Wizkid. Applejack." Applejack shakes the hand. "Whaddya mean 'for now'?"

"Oh, in Decor Club we kinda rotate the positions," Wizkid says, doing a circling motion with his finger. "So there isn't really an official fixed chairperson, per se. I'm the chairperson for this week or month or so, then someone else can be the next chairperson. Maybe you could be!"

"Heh, uh, thanks, but I'll pass," Applejack dismisses. Then she squints. "Wait. Come to think of it... ya look mighty familiar, actually. Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Oh, yeah," Wizkid titters nervously, a hand scratching at his brown bowl cut and the other fiddling with a stiff collar. "Yeah... I'm in your Bio class."

"Right!" Applejack remembers, slapping her forehead. "I helped you distribute worksheets on the first day. Consarnit, I really am plum forgetful."

"I mean, it's alright," Wizkid reassures her. "We're all busy these days."

"Mhmm," Applejack glances away. "Say... you're all lookin' real worked up. What's goin' on?"

"Oh, you see," he gives a perplexed exhale and wrings his arms behind his back, pacing in a tight, anxious circle. "This year, Art Club is busy with a competition or something at the moment, so the school told us that Decor Club's now in charge of prepping the school for Fall Formal. Everybody is tearing their hair out because we were just informed, and there's only a month till then."

On cue, someone lets out a tortured cry and keels over like a dying cow, pencil-holding hand still twitching above her sketches.

"Yeah...so..." Wizkid shrugs helplessly. "We're just trying to brainstorm ideas that we can get done up by the deadline, I guess. Sorry we couldn't give you a warmer reception," he chuckles sheepishly.

"Hey, it's fine, I literally just walked in y'all's front door," Applejack says. "C'mon, I wanna help. What I can I do for you guys?"

"Oh, uhh, right now we're in the brainstorming phase," Wizkid says. He shuffles towards the teacher's desk and grabs a cardboard box from under the table, snatching out a few sheets of scrap paper. "You can work on these, or the whiteboard if you prefer, there's markers on the table. Basically, we need ideas for the theme and the decorations. Don't need to worry too much about the budget yet—I mean, don't make it too outrageous, but—just concentrate on getting the ideas out, okay? I've got to go... settle some stuff," he gestures at some forms.

"Got it," Applejack says and takes the sheets of paper. As she gets out her pencil case, she can already feel the gears in her mind turning, toying with the new tasks that have been assigned to her. Setting up a mass event? Budgeting? She's managed the cider season for years and years on end now. Applejack's got this, alright, she's got this in the bag.

She's in the process of zipping her schoolbag up when she feels the front pocket vibrate in her grasp. Reaching in, her fingers close around her ringing phone and flip it open. When her gaze flicks over the caller ID, her heart leaps into her throat.

Rainbow Dash is calling her.

Applejack hesitates... hesitates...

Then swipes a finger over the red Hang Up.

I'm busy, she types her a text, and sends. It feels like she's getting back at her, and it's so petty. Childlike. But she does it anyway. Then she puts her phone on silent and throws it at the bottom of her bag.

They're all getting older, and they're getting busier. Applejack is, too. Maybe it's for the better. As long as she's preoccupied, she won't think about her.

Maybe this is what she's needed all along: to let go.

~~~

4- Back to the Starting Line

Applejack had heard of Rainbow Dash before she’d even met her.

Which wasn’t a surprise, really. There wasn’t a soul in CHS who hadn’t heard of Rainbow Dash. Even if you lived under a rock, or didn’t participate in gossip, it was virtually impossible to miss the “colourful punk that refilled all of Mrs Cinch’s red pens with ketchup”, or the “crazy fast first-year athlete that smashed our track record within weeks of joining” in passing murmurs in the hallways. Even though she was been a first year just like Applejack, she had managed to perform stunts so legendary that there was already a series of schoolyard tales spawned about her, to the point that no one could tell which she actually did and which were urban myths. Teachers didn’t know whether to hate her or love her. Every student either wanted to be her friend, wanted to be her, or wanted her.

As for when Applejack actually met Rainbow Dash?

She thought she was a massive jerk.

It had been in the lead-up to a school sports festival in first year, right after Applejack had moved to Canterlot. It had basically been the first school event at CHS that Applejack had experienced since joining. It was an inter-class race: complete four laps around the track in the shortest time possible, and every class had to send a representative. Simple enough. Applejack hadn't volunteered herself, but after her teacher and classmates had enthusiastically nominated her, she'd decided to give it a shot.

That was how she ended up on the stadium track after school hours, the soles of her sneakers scuffing the red track of CHS as she completed lap after lap. It was pretty nice jogging here. The view was alright—with the onset of evening, the setting sun painted the grassy field and the track surrounding it a crisp brilliant gold. Plus, it was a proper track and everything, not like the craggy paths around the lake back home where she always had to watch out for things like crossing snakes and be careful not to slip on patches of moss.

She’d picked the outermost lane of the longer track. She noticed, to her slight displeasure, that she was running kind of slowly; to be fair, it had been a while since she did distance running, but she was confident she would be able to best most of the other contestants with a little oiling of her rusty gears. She wasn’t gunning for first place, anyway, she was just here because her class told her to come.

The finish line of her last lap came into view. Another good day’s work had come to an end. With a contented sigh, Applejack smiled as she began to slow down.

It was then when something smacked against the back of her shins, sending her toppling over the side of the track.

“Whoaaa!—” a strangled noise came out of her. As she tumbled back-first toward the field, her body reacted, twisting around just in time for her hands to whip out in front of her to catch her fall. Her kneecaps were the first to collide with the grass patch next to the track, taking the brunt of the impact, followed by her palms, which smarted instantly with pain.

Still on all fours, Applejack panted, too stunned to even speak. “What in the Sam Hill was that?” she hissed, glancing back in the direction of the track. Then she stopped.

There was a girl standing over her, a white CHS T-shirt and black runners’ shorts clinging to her wiry frame. She looked about the same age as her, fourteen. Her hair fell in choppy waves around her shoulders, which might have been pretty if it weren’t dyed a seizure-inducing number of bright colours, like some magical pegasus’ mane straight out of a cartoon. Most of all, her eyes—wide and fixated on Applejack—shone a strange colour under the rays of the evening sun.

Then, the girl narrowed those eyes and flipped her crazy hair over her shoulder, scoffing.

“Nice catch. I’m using the outermost lane, though,” the student explained matter-of-factly as she brushed off her long legs, “and you were in the way. Soooo… excuse me.”

“......”

At Applejack’s prolonged silence, the girl cocked her head, her eyes flashing. Was she wearing contacts? “Did I not make myself clear?”

“You made yerself plenty clear enough, bless yer heart. But I just have one question,” Applejack deadpanned once she recovered from the sheer audacity. “What the hell?”

“Uh huh,” she agreed with zero change in her tone, glancing impatiently at her watch. “That’s what you get for being in the way. Some of us here have an inter-class race to prepare for, y’know, so don’t slow me down.”

“Hey. I know this may come as a real surprise to you,” Applejack said incredulously, “but there are other people besides ya runnin’ for that inter-class race.” She gestured to herself. “Present company included.”

“Huh. So you are,” Rainbow looked down at her briefly, then looked elsewhere with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Well, you can just give up now that you know I’m in it. Or have fun competing for second place among yourselves.” She squinted at Applejack again as she got up on one knee. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”

Who was she fooling with that god-awful hair? “Yer Rainbow Dash.”

“Heh. That’s me,” a smirk broke out across the girl’s lips. She stretched her arms over her head languidly. “Well, that’s not a surprise. I think everyone knows Rainbow Dash.”

And Applejack just… stared. Because God. Applejack was fairly sure she’d never met someone more full of it in her life, and she was classmates with Rarity.

Rainbow didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, just blinked those incredibly distracting eyes and continued blabbering about all the races she’d won before in her life, or something. Yeah, she was definitely wearing contacts, but they weren’t red like Applejack had thought initially. Her irises looked scarlet at first glance, but upon further scrutiny they appeared more pinkish. But not like the pink of a newborn piglet. They were deeper, more fiery. Applejack couldn’t think of the word to describe them.

Like roses, Applejack decided. Rose-coloured eyes.

“—Yeah, so that was the time I won the national championships. That’ll teach you not to mess with me,” Rainbow finished, huffing and puffing. She even had to pause and catch her breath from all that boasting, which might’ve been funny to Applejack if her knees and palms weren’t still burning in a reminder of the spectacular fall she’d just taken. Then Rainbow looked down at her, narrowing those eyes. “Who are you even, anyway?”

And normally? Applejack would’ve kept it on the down low. She wasn’t one to get riled up over small things, and she really didn’t give a flying hoot about this race, who this girl was or whatever it was she was trying to prove. Plus, she’d just moved into Canterlot, after all, and Miss Cadance had told her to make new friends, not new enemies. But this girl was seriously getting on her nerves, and after months of forcibly biting her tongue and watching her step around others, maybe it had been that kick to her shins that’d broken the final straw upon the camel’s back.

“I’m Applejack,” she stood up and dusted herself off. “Remember that well, because that’s the name of the girl that’s going to beat you in the inter-class race.”

Now, it was Rainbow Dash’s turn to be at a loss for words. For while, she just stared at Applejack, and Applejack stared back at her.

Then she doubled over wheezing, slapping her knees and cackling as if Applejack had just told a particularly hilarious joke. Applejack merely kept watching her, folding her arms as she waited for the girl to finish wiping tears from her cheeks. She supposed that was when Rainbow realised that Applejack was being fully serious.

“Oh yeah?” Rainbow Dash said, sniggering sweetly. “I’d like to see you try, Applejack.”

“Mark yer words, Rainbow Dash.” Applejack spat on her hand and held it out. Rainbow considered it, and for a moment Applejack was scared that she would laugh at it and walk away. But then she smirked, and did the same, splattering her palm with saliva. Reaching out, the slicked fingers of Rainbow Dash clutched against Applejack’s, and together, firmly, they shook hands under the glow of the setting sun.

That, was when everything began.

“You know, I’d be having a fine day. An amazing day, in fact! And then I come down here and see this stupid girl there running with her stupid hat on in the outermost lane.”

“Hey!— M-my hat ain’t stupid! What’s wrong with me wearin’ mah hat while runnin’, huh?” Applejack gripped onto her hat, offended. “Also, there are so many gurl’durn lanes on this here track, why the hell you gotta take the outermost lane?”

It was yet another one of those days. Sunshine blanketed the stadium as two girls chased each other around the track hurling insults at one other, which must’ve been rather the comical sight for any passers-by.

“Uh huh, why do you wanna take the outermost lane so bad, then?”

“Ain’t none of yer dayum business. I got to the track first, so I take whatever lane I want to.”

“Uh, hello? I’m part of the track team, so I get to choose the lane.”

“Now yer just spewin’ bullcrap. Bein’ on the track team dun mean you own the track, go cry to Iron about it.”

Rainbow had nothing to say to that. They went on jogging for a while. Then, just as Applejack had thought the girl had finally shut up for good, Rainbow broke the silence with a lengthy sigh. She glanced at her sharply. “What is it?”

Rainbow just groaned loudly, raking a hand through her garish hair. “I just can’t believe we ran into each other again!”

“Darn, I can’t believe it either,” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Shucks, it’s so unbelievable, next it’ll start raining chocolate.”

“Do you, like,” Rainbow grimaced, eyeing her, “come here specifically to annoy me? Or something?”

“As if I’d want to hear yer non-stop whingin’ on purpose,” Applejack rolled her eyes. “No, I just come when I have the time. Unless you’re the one who’s chompin’ at the bit to pick a fight with someone.”

“Like I’d wanna fight some slowpoke cowgirl who won’t move out of my way. No, I only come here when I feel like it.”

Applejack chuckled dryly. “Reckon we’re just unlucky as all get out, then.”

Rainbow Dash pursed her lips, seemingly in thought. They jogged on in yet another stewing silence.

“So, I had an idea,” Rainbow said finally. “I’ll go on the outermost lane, because you were blocking me that time.‘

Applejack bristled. “Listen, Dash, if you keep that up, I’m really gonna report you to the school-”

“Ah, ah, ah, wait, let me finish,” Rainbow Dash held both her hands up placatingly. “You can run on the second outermost lane. Buuuut… if you catch up to me before the race ends, then you can kick me off the track like what I did to you. Sound fair?” Smugness dripped down her tone, like she was so sure that Applejack would never catch up to her, and oh boy, Applejack had never been so keen on wiping a smirk clean off someone’s face.

“I’ve never heard a more birdbrained idea in my life,” Applejack uttered. “Let’s do it.”

They switched lanes.

“‘Kay then,” Rainbow said, licking her lips as her feet thumped vindictively on the outermost lane. “See you at the finish line… tomorrow!!!!”

Then Rainbow shot off like a bullet, roaring in laughter as she went. Rolling her eyes, Applejack just ran the way she always did, steadily. She kept her sight trained on where Rainbow was at, adjusting her pace accordingly. Predictably, as the run wore on, Rainbow started to get slower, while Applejack began to gain on her. It was a mere matter of minutes before Applejack’s footsteps rang out in unison with Rainbow’s, and Rainbow whipped briefly around to give her a disbelieving look.

“Slowpoke cowgirl, huh?” Applejack smirked as she called out. Another quarter of a round brought her almost on pace with Rainbow who, by then, didn’t dare to look back anymore at the risk of slowing down. A little more, and Applejack would be able to deliver her the roundhouse kick of the century.

“If the outermost lane’s tirin’ you out, sugarcube, we can always switch.”

At that, Rainbow heaved between gasping breaths. “In… your… dreams!”

Rainbow put on a burst of speed, rushing on ahead of Applejack toward the finish line just in sight. In a final, grand leap, she soared across the white line and landed in a heap, rolling about and jubilantly punching the air as Applejack continued jogging over. “Yes! YES! I won!”

Then Applejack lifted her leg, and drove it into her side.

“Aaaaack- oomph- hrrkkk-” Rainbow Dash was sent sprawling into the field, bumping and rolling a few times as she went, before she finally crumpled into the grass—eating a mouthful or two of dirt in the process, Applejack hoped.

Flipping her head up, Rainbow cried out indignantly. “What. The. Buck??!”

“The race ain’t over,” Applejack explained, pausing for a moment to plant her foot back on the ground. “Ya do know that there’s still four laps in the race, right? That there was the third.”

The tiniest of smiles on her face, she jogged past Rainbow as she spluttered, face red with rage.

“Watch your back,” she heard her hollering in that raspy voice of hers, I’ll get you next time!”

“Heheh. Heheheh,” Applejack chuckled to herself, “we’ll see about that.”

“Ready to get your arse royally owned?”

“Only if yer ready to eat my dust.”

“Waaaaaiiieeeee–oof! That hurt, bitch!”

“Till the next time–heh–if there's a next time.”

“Shut up!”

After they’d raced each other a few times, Rainbow gradually learnt not to underestimate her. Which was good, because if there was one thing Applejack hated, it was people holding back on her. There was no point to competing, and even less to winning, if your opponent didn’t play fair—whether it was to your disadvantage, or your advantage.

The first few sessions almost always ended up with at least one of them bruised and scratched all over from all the rough-housing. But in the later sessions, successful kicks became fewer and farther between. As it turned out, there was no better motivation to picking up the pace than hearing the thundering footsteps of someone hot on your heels and the promise of blood on your tongue.

“Yer a mighty good athlete, Rainbow,” Applejack found herself, one day, muttering by Rainbow’s ear as she drew up by her side in one of their races, seconds before she would strike Rainbow in the ribs with her elbow. “I’m just better.”

And like—dang. She must’ve been hanging out with Rainbow too much, because what on God’s green earth had possessed her to say something like that?

This time though, Rainbow just sped up, out of the way of Applejack’s lancing jab. Her complexion was visibly better than from their first race; although it was already the third lap, she didn’t look nearly as pale as before, and her breathing not as ragged. Applejack, too, was finding it much easier to keep pace with Rainbow these days, despite the girl being, admittedly, very fast.

“So long, sucker!” Rainbow stuck her tongue out. “Wanna switch?”

The short story, is that they switched lanes. The long story, is that Rainbow tried to go in front of her, then Applejack tried to go in front of Rainbow, and then they ended up running in a weird looping fashion around each other.

“Oh for Pete’s sake, just lemme go in front,” Applejack rolled her eyes. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“For apples’ sake, I was the one who offered, jerk, let me have this,” Rainbow aggressively cut in front of her another time. Applejack just laughed, and thrusted an arm out to blockade her advance. As she did so, a ridiculous idea bloomed in her brain. Twisting her arms back, she looped her arms around Rainbow's waist and hoisted the surprisingly light girl into the air with ease.

Caught completely off-guard by this turn of events, Rainbow's eyes bugged as she flailed helplessly in her grasp. "What the bu-yaaaaaiiieeeee!" A high-pitched scream pierced through the air as Applejack spun them around, then spun them a few more times for good measure, laughing as the wind whistled past their ears. Finally, the screaming stopped when she relented, plonking Rainbow down on the inner lane.

“There, all settled.” Still jogging, Applejack dusted her hands off, bemused. “Was that so hard? Jesus. You shoulda seen the look on yer face."

"You bucking asshole," Rainbow bit out accusingly, but she too couldn't stifle her giggles. She pushed tangled multicolour strands out of her face, grinning. "You're- you're nuts!"

“Seriously? You’re saying that to me? You?”

“Ahahahahha!” Rainbow cackled, then caught herself as her eyes widened in panic. “Sh-shit! My breathing’s all messed up. I’m not gonna last till the fourth lap now.”

“Your loss.”

“That’s cheating!" she complained. "You’re cheating!”

“Yeah, whatever. Guess I’ll see you at the finish line tomorrow, then,” Applejack flipped her hair over her shoulder and jogged ahead of her, tipping her hat as she went. Rainbow’s gaze honed in on the hat, and that was when she truly, utterly lost it. She slowed to a stop, teetered, then collapsed onto the field, legs sticking up as she howled in laughter. “Bwahahahahha!”

Applejack scowled. “What’s so dayum funny?”

“It’s just,” Rainbow gasped, and Applejack swore she could see literal tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “I can’t believe you still wear that hat while you run, and now you’re—snkkkt—emoting with it too-”

“Insult the stupid hat one more time and I’ll—” Applejack blinked, a cold horror dawning upon her. “Holy shit. Rainbow. What have you done to me?”

Rainbow didn’t answer anymore, just shrieked hysterically and slapped her tummy, rolling back and forth on the field. Circling back, Applejack soon joined her, sinking her knees into the grass in mortified amusement. And it must’ve been quite the sight, two girls laughing their arses off on the edge of the school field as the night slowly crept upon them.

“Wow,” Rainbow Dash murmured to her as they both stood at the starting line. “Look at all those people.”

Applejack looked over at Rainbow. “You nervous?”

“Nah.” Rose eyes glinted. “I like the pressure.”

The day of the race was here. Applejack could feel her heart pumping harder in her chest as she took in the stands packed full of students, teachers, staff and a handful of outside guests. As the sky was getting dark, some people had also broken out lightsticks, neon flashy beacons in the darkness, while others waved their phones with flashlight switched on. She could pick out her class in the front-row seats, who weren’t exactly going banshee-wild like some of the other classes were, but they were holding up a big orange placard with the words GO APPLEJACK! :). Even Rarity, the classmate with whom she’d formed a tenuous camaraderie in the month so far, looked up briefly from her phone to pretend like she was interested in the slightest at so-called “ruffian” sports. It was pretty sweet.

Meanwhile, the sheer energy pulsating through the stadium was nothing like anything she’d ever experienced before in her village. She could almost feel the adrenaline thrumming physically in her veins, ready to be unleashed at her beck and call. It was an incrediblefeeling.

She smirked. “Who do you think’s gonna win, huh?” She nodded in the direction of the other competitors. They were similarly outfitted in blue-and-yellow CHS tees and tight shorts, while stickers labelled them on the torso and back with their initials and class.

“Psh, definitely not any of these losers. The only one I’m really watching out for is the one called AJ,” Rainbow winked, nudging her in the back where her own initials were stuck on.

Applejack snorted. “Well, if y’ain’t mighty flatterin’, RD. But don’t you go underestimatin’ them all the same. Some of them look pretty strong-like, too.”

It was true. They were all freshmen here, but there were varying standards within their opponents. Some of them tried to look intimidating, putting on airs as they did their warm-ups, but their façade was as see-through as glass. Certain others, though, looked like they would be a real challenge. Particularly, there was one girl, with the letters L.D. plastered on her back. Her sleek aquamarine ponytail swished as she regarded them from afar with calculating yellow eyes. The way she moved, leaned into her stretches, exuded a quiet confidence, like a viper coiling to strike.

That one looked dangerous.

“Well,” Rainbow only beamed from ear to ear. “May the best runner win.”

Following the announcement, everyone finished their warming up. Applejack could hear her heartbeat in her own ears as she crouched down with the rest, the tips of her fingers grazing the white line on the red track that she had come to grow so accustomed to. At the blare of the horn, they were off.

Applejack watched as Rainbow immediately sprang forward like a leopard, clinching a solid headstart in front of everyone else. Well, almost everyone else. The girl that Applejack had been looking out for, L.D., had also whizzed ahead of the group with two, three quick strides, blurring her way in front of Rainbow.

“And Lightning Dust takes the lead! Followed closely by Rainbow Dash!” the commentator’s voice boomed through the speakers, echoing through the stadium. Applejack could almost sense Rainbow’s twitch from where she was all the way behind—she was certain the girl was never used to being anywhere in a race except at the very front. But she didn’t overtake Lightning, though Applejack knew she was capable of it at this point. Instead, Rainbow just let the Lightning Dust girl take over her while she maintained a comfortable distance ahead of everyone else.

Applejack had to admit that her self-restraint was unexpected, but admirable. Guess that girl’s learning, Applejack thought with a trace of satisfaction. Applejack, herself, trailed slightly behind the other competitors, biding her time as always.

One lap, two laps, three. Once Applejack’s head was in the game, she didn’t think of anything else anymore, only kept a subconscious count of the laps passing by. She didn’t even feel stressed at all—like this was just another after-school run with Rainbow, of the many, many after-school runs they’d had. She kept her legs pumping steadily beneath her, relishing in the feel of air rushing past her and letting the cheers of the crowds spur her onwards. Before she’d realised it, it was the final lap, and she had surpassed the majority of the runners that had been ahead of her at the beginning of the race. The only competitors left that she could see ahead of her, were Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust.

They’d passed into the hilly area which the longer track ran over. Half-shrouded in a canopy of trees, there were no stands nor spectators here. The commentatory of the announcer issued from a single portable speaker, the sound scratchy and too distant to be audible. There were some teachers stationed here to watch over the race, and a first aid tent pitched, but other than that, it was much darker and much quieter.

For now, Rainbow was in the lead. In the quiet, Applejack could hear her straining breaths, but Rainbow kept going, sweeping strides of her legs keeping her speeding on. Meanwhile, Lightning Dust pressed on unperturbed, close on her tail.

A little too close, in fact.

Applejack narrowed her eyes. It was hard to see: the only source of light here was a feeble waxing moon, and the electric lamps at regular intervals that cast dim fluorescent-white beams on the darkened track. But Applejack could still make out the rim of Lightning Dust’s figure as she swept in closer and closer to Rainbow, muscles tensing in an odd angle.

Applejack’s jaw dropped. Was she trying to?—

And then Lightning Dust did. Quicker than the blink of an eye, her left leg whipped out in the direction of Rainbow’s shins. Applejack’s breath caught, but Rainbow put on a burst of speed, narrowly evading the assault.

Applejack glanced about, but none of the teachers seemed to have noticed the behaviour. She considered shouting, but the nearest teacher looked out of earshot. Had no one else really seen what had happened?

Well, at least Rainbow managed to avoid her, so maybe nothing more would happen. Or, so Applejack had presumed, because Lightning Dust wasn’t giving up. In spite of her failed first attempt, she inched in closer again to Rainbow, while Applejack could hear Rainbow was only getting more tired. Still no teachers seemed to notice, or bother. Applejack wondered if there were even any cameras filming them here like there were supposed to be, since the commentary didn’t seem to comment on the three of them, only the runners behind them. Even if there were, the footage might be too hard to review, what with the lack of good lighting in this area. They were on their own. Rainbow was on her own.

Not if I have anything to say about it, Applejack thought. Willing more power into her legs, she upped her speed with a renewed strength, hoping to scare her off with witnesses. Meanwhile, Lightning Dust went in for a strike again. Rainbow was not oblivious, either, and she turned her head to bare her teeth at the girl, snapping something at her. Lightning leered at her, saying something back.

As Applejack got closer and closer, a part of her wondered why she was bothering. In fact, maybe she ought to be glad. After all, it was Rainbow Dash who had started this whole kickin’ business, and now she was just getting a taste of her own medicine, wasn’t she? Yet, bizarrely, Applejack didn’t feel a hint of satisfaction as she witnessed the situation unfolding before her. In fact, she felt kind of angry. Lightning wasn’t playing around with a kick like that, and Rainbow could’ve gotten seriously hurt.

Grunting, she banished the thoughts and just summoned even more energy into her legs. The soles of her sneakers were scraping against the track, burning their way faster and faster along as she propelled herself full steam ahead.

Just as she was about to catch up, though, she saw Lightning Dust's leg whip out again, savagely, and Applejack's heartbeat rattled in her ribcage. Rainbow was going way too slow to outspeed this one. Applejack braced herself for the inevitable impact, as a wicked grin spread across Lightning's face. But then something happened.

Rainbow skipped. As in, she jumped– kicked one knee up in the air, then the other, hopping cleanly over Lightning’s lashing leg as it swept under her airborne feet. Applejack watched, amazed, while Lightning Dust looked similarly stupefied. Rainbow, herself, threw her hands up in the air in a victory pump and kept on running. It was then the din of the crowd came crashing back into focus.

The din of the crowd.

The crowd who had seen everything that had just happened.

The three of them had finally emerged from behind the school block and re-entered the official stadium. In her focus, it seemed, Lightning Dust had neglected to notice just how much distance they had covered, and had thusly committed a fatal error. The light of the stadium flooded over the track, just in time to illuminate them—illuminate the truth. Having witnessed the exchange, the crowd was going absolutely crazy, their booes, screams and cheers deafening. There was no hiding what had just happened. Sure enough, the announcer’s voice streamed from the speakers, loud and clear:

"Lightning Dust is disqualified! Lightning Dust, please step off the track."

At that, Lightning complied, stalking off the track with a huff. Which was a good thing, because if she hadn’t, Applejack might’ve just flung her off the track herself, disqualification be damned.

With Lightning Dust now out of the way, Applejack closed the gap easily. Now she and Rainbow Dash were on the very last leg of the race, and in the corner of her eye she could glimpse that familiar bolt of colour streaking alongside her. She could scarcely believe that this was it. This was the end. Their first real, and last race together, ever. It made something in her ache strangely.

“Oooooh! Who’s that new challenger?” The sound of rustling papers over the speakers. “It’s Applejack from class 1702! What an incredible sprint! Look at her go, she’s nearly catching up to Rainbow Dash!”

Applejack narrowed her eyes, and kept thundering her way forward, everything around her all but a blur.

“And now Applejack and Rainbow Dash are neck and neck! But what's this? Applejack's now ahead by a nose!” the commentator bellowed with extreme enthusiasm as a gasp rippled through the crowd. “Oh, wait, now Rainbow Dash is ahead by half a nose.” The crowd screamed in a frenzy. “Or maybe three quarters of a nose. No, about sixty-three point seven percent of a nose! What will happen next? Who’s gonna win?”

Applejack charged forward like her life depended on it.

They crossed the finish line.

“Aaand they BOTH win!!!!!” screamed the commentator. A vague slamming sound ensued over the speakers, sending a blast of static reverberating in the audience’s ears. “So sorry about that, everyone. Oh my gosh, that was waaay too close, I’m going to have to get a replay of that.” A massive digital screen began to play a slowed-down rewind of their shoes clearing the finish line at the same time.“Oh my cherry-chimi-changas, everyone, it was a tie! The first-place winners of the inter-class race are Rainbow Dash and Applejack! Give it up for Rainbow Dash and Applejack!”

Applejack saw her class in the crowd, on their feet and whooping. She waved back at them, grinning awkwardly. Then she turned back to Rainbow.

“Hey, you okay?” Applejack asked.

“Huh?” Rainbow turned to look at her. She dusted off her arms, glowering. “Yeah. Just really mad.” Her scowl was aimed in the direction of Lightning Dust, who was standing in the bleachers. “You think I should go over and give her a piece of my mind?”

“Yer askin’ me?” Applejack’s nostrils flared. “Go ahead.”

Apparently, they didn’t have to go over at all, because Lightning Dust, noticing their gaze, started making her way towards Rainbow. Until, she wasn’t. She walked straight past Rainbow and went up to Applejack, to her great confusion.

“Listen, I don’t know who you are or where you’re from, farm girl,” Lightning Dust sneered at her. “But don’t go around thinking you’re some hot shot for beating me. You only won because I was disqualified. You’d never beat me fair and square.”

“Fair and square?” Applejack arched an eyebrow, affronted. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but you was literally just called out for cheatin’.”

Lightning opened her mouth to say something more, but not before Rainbow shot in front of her, driving the other girl back.

“Listen, bitch,” Rainbow spat, a look of absolute lividness on her face. She swung a finger into her own chest. “If you have anything to say, take it up with me. You first try that shit on the track, and now you’re trying to take it out on my friend? Sheesh, could you get any more pathetic?”

At that, Lightning finally caved in. With a final tch, she spun about on her heel and stalked back towards the bleachers, heavy footsteps thumping until they faded away into the noise of the masses. Rainbow stood with her hands on her hips, glaring after Lightning until she disappeared from view, so she could flip the bird emphatically in her direction.

Then Rainbow Dash finally glanced back at her. “What’re you lookin’ at me like that for? C’mon, we have a trophy to raise.” Before Applejack could reply, she grabbed her wrist and dragged her along to the podium.

They both climbed up to the very top. The concrete block they were on was a little squeezy for two people, but they managed to twist themselves around so they could both fit there. From up here, the whole of the stands were in view, and the blinding fluorescent floodlights shone over them. It made Applejack feel, rather ridiculously, like she was on top of the world.

Then, before she could think about too much, there was a movement from beside her. Clenching onto the cup’s base, Rainbow Dash was beaming at her as she offered Applejack one arm of the trophy, her own hand curling around the other.

“Ready?” Rainbow whispered. “One.”

“Two,” Applejack whispered back.

“Three.”

They both lifted the gleaming golden cup high up above their heads, to the resounding cheers of the crowd.

After that, they both went to a small diner nearby school to celebrate their victory, not quite wanting to go home just yet. At some point, it had started pouring outside, and they listened to the rock music playing in the background and the pattering of the rain against the glass windows as they ate.

“Guess we’re stuck here now,” Rainbow joked across from her in the booth as she skewered a meatball with her fork. Outside, the honking of cars in a traffic jam was muffled by the sound of the storm.

“It sure ain’t lookin’ like it’s gonna let up anytime soon,” Applejack said, biting into a slice of her mushroom pie. The flaky, buttery crust crumbled as her teeth sank in, warm garlicky cheese melting over her tongue. “Hmm… not bad.”

“Yeah. Told you this place was good,” Rainbow smirked, relaxing back against the couch. Her own plate was filled with chicken nuggets, onion rings and other fried goods dripping in grease. Sighing, she hugged herself as she leaned against the window, staring outside at the gloomy sky as the sheets of water slid down the window. “It’s cold.”

“Ain’t it colder when you lean like that?”

“I’m tired,” whined Rainbow as she smooshed her cheek against the fogged-up glass. A visible shudder ran through her, causing her to jerk back, leaving a clear spot on the pane. Wincing in regret, she rubbed her jaw and slumped flat onto the table, sinking down until her head was reduced to a technicolour, splayed-out mop. “Ughhh. That run took everything out of me. I’m done. I’m over. No more.”

Applejack snorted. “It was just four laps, not a marathon.”

“Just four laps,” Rainbow mimicked her sarcastically, but there was no energy behind it, so it sounded like she was agreeing with her.

“Yeah, well, to be fair, yer run was more difficult than usual, shall we say,” Applejack conceded. ”That was a whopper of a kick you nearly done took back there. I was actually tryin’ to catch up to y’all, but I guess you handled it with that neat trick of yers. Why’d you never pull it off before?”

“Yeah, I’m glad I got to finally use it,” Rainbow flashed a grin at her, peeling herself off the table. “It was a thing I’d been working on so I could get my ass kicked less. No thanks to you.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “And hey, you were no less impressive back there. Beating me in a footrace? That’s no easy feat, trust me.”

“Now there, I didn’t beat you none,” Applejack took a sip of her juice. “We tied, remember? Also, Lightning Dust was right. She would’ve been the one winnin’ if she hadn’t been disqualified.” As much as she hated to admit it, it was the truth.

“Yeah, that,” Rainbow’s jaw tightened. “I just don’t understand why. Like, I get that losing sucks. I hate losing. But she was already going to be, at worst, second place. Why would she be so damn competitive over such a small thing?” She seemed to catch the expression on Applejack’s face “...Oh.”

Applejack smiled wryly. “Looks like a pot’s callin’ the kettle black, darling.”

For a moment, Rainbow looked like she was going to argue, but then she sighed, slumping down again. “...You got me. Huh. Guess I really am something of an ass sometimes.”

“Darn right you are.” The moment the words exited Applejack’s mouth, she immediately regretted them. Rainbow did sound like she was trying to apologise. “Uh, I mean, ya ain’t too terrible. Ya could just… afford to work on a lil’ manners. Uh huh. That.” She really had to get her blunt honesty in check sometime.

“Heh. No, you’re right,” Rainbow chuckled mirthlessly, pushing a meatball around in the pool of gravy on her plate. “I was a total ass to you when we first met, and for no good reason, either.” After a pause, she added in a smaller, but uncharacteristically sincere voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Yer forgiven,” Applejack responded easily. She smiled a little. "You know what's funny? I would’ve just let you have the outermost lane if you'd just asked nicely. The lane I was runnin' in didn't matter to me all that much."

Rainbow gaped, a face of utter betrayal. "Then why didn't you??"

"Because, you didn't ask nicely," Applejack snickered.

Rainbow groaned. "So you're telling me I roped you into that whole kicking contest for nothing? Your kicks hurt like hell, you know that?" She winced, rubbing a spot on her leg under the table.

"Heh. Sorry about that, even if you were the one who started it. I'm still sore in a couple of places myself, if it makes ya feel any better." Applejack set her drink down. "...Can't say I regret none of it, though."

Rainbow cocked her head. "Regret none of what?"

"That we met this way," Applejack rubbed her neck. "Reckon this might sound mighty strange, but that was the most fun I've had since comin' here. I’d forgotten just how much dang fun it is to just cast aside decorum an’ roll about in the mud a little.”

"Oh. Wait,” Rainbow squinted at her. “Did you just say you weren't from here? Where are you from?"

"Uhh, yeah. I just moved in this year,” Applejack nodded. “Well, move in isn’t the right word. I still go home everyday from school. I’m from a village down south.”

“Which?”

“It doesn’t have an actual name.” There was no reason for it to have one; villages only needed names if they often had to be introduced to someone, and people didn’t leave or come to their village enough for that. “We do have a kind-of unofficial name, though. Ponyville. ‘Cause, historically speakin’, there used to be a lot of ‘em ponies in the area.”

“Cute,” Rainbow said. She swirled her own cup—Pepsi—and took a gulp, smacking her lips. “You know, I’m not from here either.”

“Yer not?” Applejack was surprised. Rainbow had seemed like she’d lived and breathed the city all her life, and not only because of her gaudy dyed hair.

“Yeah,” Rainbow grinned. Shuffling around, she proudly showed Applejack her haversack, where a metal badge engraved a circle and clouds was pinned. Applejack wasn’t good with state flags, but she recognised this one. It was one of the most prominent, after all.

“Cloudsdale?” Applejack said, jaw dropping. That explained it. “That’s a mighty happenin’ city, isn’t it? Why’d you move here?”

Rainbow shrugged. “I got bored.”

“You- you just up an’ moved cities because you were bored?” Applejack was stupefied. “What about yer family? They just said okay?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said it like it was nothing. She popped a nugget into her mouth. “I mean, it wasn’t like my whole family was moving, just me. I stay on campus, and go back during the weekend, breaks, or if there’s something important happening back home.” She kept chewing as she talked. “And you? Why’d you move to Canterlot?”

“I…” Applejack hesitated, searching for the right words. “Reckon I was lookin’ for somethin’ new, I guess.”

“Ohh. So you were bored, too!” Rainbow grinned, eyes twinkling. “I get it.”

“Now, I didn’t get bored none,” Applejack said defensively. “I just wanted to explore new horizons. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!”

“Didn’t say there was anything wrong with that,” Rainbow said, holding up her hands. She then leaned forward. “So, did you find what you were looking for?”

Applejack thought for a while. Outside, the downpour continued unabated, the sound of the rain a low murmur by her ear. It made her think of her first day here, when it had rained similarly. The tiny umbrella she'd brought with her had done little to protect her from the drenching sheets of water, and she'd felt nothing short of miserable. Then, there had been being trapped in a back alley in the heart of Canterlot, her only exit blocked by a group of sneering muggers. Even when nothing horrible was happening, her days were often pervaded with an overwhelming sense of homesickness as she plodded in the hallways, surrounded by gaggles of students that looked and talked nothing like her.

But at the same time, there'd also been moments, like her first almost-magical ride on the subway. How she'd felt like exploring the shops, marvelling at the colossal digital screens, towering buildings, and the rows and rows of products right at her fingertips. The kindness that Ms Cadance, Rarity, and her other classmates had shown her time and time again. And lastly, the long after-school runs, filled with so much laughter and dumb banter that it made her forget she had ever longed to give it all up and leave.

“I mean… for sure, everythin’s really new, alright," Applejack admitted with an exhale. "At first, I was scared that I hadn’t made the right choice. But after today, I certainly don’t think it was the wrong one.” Then, mustering up the courage, she asked the question that had been on her mind all evening. “Did you, by any chance… mean what you said back there?”

“Uhh…” Rainbow scratched her head awkwardly. “What exactly did I say back there?”

“To Lightning Dust,” Applejack lifted her eyes to meet hers. “You said we were, uh, friends.”

“Ohh,” Rainbow scrunched her nose. “Aren’t we? I mean, well, unless you don’t think so. Then… whew…” Her face fell a little, “that’s awkward.”

“No, not at all!” Applejack said quickly. “I was just surprised, is all.”

“Oh!” Rainbow perked up. “So, you don’t mind being friends?”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” Applejack chuckled. “I mean, yer still a jerk, dun get me wrong. But I would love to be friends, Rainbow Dash.”

“Great,” Rainbow grinned along. And just like that, despite the cold air, Applejack felt warm all of a sudden. The heavy thrumming against the roof faded, faded, then ceased.

“Hey, look,” Rainbow pointed out the window. “The rain’s stopped.”

Applejack turned to see. Sure enough, the thick, dark clouds had broken away to reveal a clear night sky, bathed in the faint white glow of the city. The only droplets left were the ones clinging to the glass panes.

Applejack hummed, standing up. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

The road outside was slippery. The sidewalk was filled with puddles, the reflections of streetlight pooling neon beneath their squelching sneakers. The air, freezing cold; caused both their breaths to puff into clouds as they walked side by side, shivering in their coats. This was a fairly quiet area, so by this hour, there was basically no one else roaming out and about, especially not after the weather that had just ensued. Only the occasional car sped past them, and they were careful to avoid getting splashed by the muddy rainwater that spurted upwards as it did.

“Oh jeez, it’s late,” Rainbow glanced at her watch. Having no watch, Applejack peered over to look. It was a digital watch, displaying the numbers 21:08 when Rainbow held down on the button for light. “Are your parents picking you up or something?”

“.........Nah,” Applejack said. “Are yours?”

“Nope. Which bus are you taking?”

“Uh… none of ‘em. I drive myself home.”

“You drive??” Rainbow gasped. “But you’re fourteen!”

“Yeah, uh,” Applejack scratched the back of her neck nervously, “dun tell no one ‘bout it. I know it’s not technically legal, but I promise I know how to drive—safely, I mean. Back in my village, we learn to drive the tractors as young as ten.”

“Are you kidding me? That is so cool. I’d never tell anyone your secret, I promise,” Rainbow put a fist over her heart and jumped up and down, announcing loudly to the quiet street. “I, Rainbow Dash, swear I will never tell anyone that Applejack can—”

“Shhhhhh!” Applejack half-screamed, glancing about furtively. “Don’t say it out loud!”

Rainbow giggled, dropping her fist. “Juuuust kidding.”

“Rainbow Daaash,” Applejack pressed her face into her palms and moaned, “You nearly done gave me a heart attack!”

“C’mon, AJ,” Rainbow gave her a flippant little wave. “I’d never get a friend in trouble like that!”

A friend. The words tingled warmly in her heart, and despite herself, Applejack found herself grinning along. Playfully, she slapped Rainbow’s back. “Yeah. But don’t you dare pull somethin’ like that again.”

“No promises on that one,” she winked. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her parka, exhaling a puff of fog. “So where’s your ride? Actually, what’s your ride? Oh, wait,” she leaned in, hissing into Applejack’s ear. “Do you drive a Ferrari? Please tell me you drive a Ferrari. I’ve always wanted to see one in real life.”

“Mate, do ya think y’all see Ferraris rollin’ around in the countryside?” Applejack huffed with vague amusement. “Anyway, I parked it back at school. I’m just gonna be takin’ the same bus we took here back.”

“Oh, cool beans,” Rainbow yawned. “Pity it’s the weekend, or else I’d be able to come along to see your Ferrari.”

“T’ain’t no Ferrari, though. It’s a delivery van.”

“Ferrari van,” Rainbow Dash compromised. “Take me for a ride sometime, will ya?”

“Maybe, if you really wanna ride a rusty old pick-up truck sooo darn badly,” Applejack chuckled.

“Nice.” She perked up as they rounded a corner on the pavement. “Oh, there’s the bus stop. Should have both our buses.” They found a mostly dry bench and sat down. After they did so, she gazed at the sky for a while—and then, all of a sudden, her eyes lit up. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?”

Rainbow was rocking her legs back and forth, almost falling off the bench in excitement as she pointed up. Applejack craned her neck to look. Up, up and above, wispy clouds framed a single, glowing star, a pinprick of light shimmering in the darkness.

“It’s a star,” Applejack stated.

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, nodding fervently. “Isn’t it awesome?”

“But there’s only one of it,” Applejack said, unimpressed. She shifted as she sat. “Back in my home, there are way more. Like, the whole sky is filled with so many, you can’t even count ‘em without losing track at some point or ‘nother. Compared to that, this is nothin’.”

“But it’s a star all the same,” Rainbow frowned, pensive. “Besides, if there are so many stars, you get distracted because you don’t know which one to look at. But if it’s just one, big black sky, everyone is just looking at that one star, right? It’s more special.”

Applejack shrugged. “I dunno. I think when you can see all the stars together, they form a far more beautiful picture combined than if there were just one on its lonesome.”

Rainbow appeared to give it some thought, tapping her chin. “Yeah… I suppose if there were only one star up there, it would get lonely.”

“The other stars are there too, just that you can’t see them,” Applejack said, gesturing around them at the street signs and lamps. “It’s all this darn city light coverin’ them up. Light pollution, an’ all that.”

“They don’t shine as bright,” Rainbow inhaled. “But they’re there.” She smirked, drumming her fingers on the bench. “They won’t hide from me for long, though. ‘Cause someday, I’m going to be flying amongst them.”

Applejack quirked an eyebrow, turning to look at her. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“You’ll see,” Rainbow Dash stood up at the sound of an approaching engine. “Oh, my bus is here.”

“Wait,” Applejack blurted. “Do you- uh- wanna keep in touch or somethin’?” She fumbled for her phone in her coat pockets as the bus rolled to a stop in front of them, feeling a little stupid. They’d been talking all this while, and yet they hadn’t even exchanged their numbers. She wanted to hold on to this. She didn’t want this to end here.

It was then, when she felt a hand placed gently on hers, and her head snapped up. Rainbow Dash was looking at her, the lights from the city splashing over her visage, and the multiple hues of her hair looked much softer, mellower than Applejack could’ve imagined before.

“Don’t worry about it, AJ,” she promised her, rose eyes dancing. “I’ll see you again!”

But how? Applejack wanted to ask, but somehow, looking at her, she knew that she could believe in her word. So she stopped fumbling about, and let Rainbow Dash step onto the bus. Raising a hand, Rainbow Dash grinned and gave her a two-fingered salute.

“See you again, Rainbow Dash,” Applejack called after her. Slipping her hat from her head, she pressed it to her chest in her own farewell, and breathed as the doors slid closed.

And then she smiled, too.

5- Clouds (Part 1)

Roosters crowing. Voices echoing.

Turning over in bed, she burrows her head deeper into her pillow.

More voices. Then…

Metal clattering. Smoke hissing. Electronic buzzing.

...Wait. Huh?

Applejack's eyes fly open. She's in her room, lying back flat on her bed staring up at the unadorned white ceiling.

That in itself isn't surprising—she'd gone to sleep the same way the night before. What is surprising is, rather, the sunlight. Morning light, bright and crisp, floods in through the windows, washing over the peeling white walls of the room and the wooden banisters, reflecting off the photo frame on the opposite wall.

Applejack always gets up before sunrise. But now, the sun has risen. There is only one possible explanation for this: she’s overslept.

The floorboards creak as she hops off the bedframe. They're cold under her bare feet, but she pads on toward the closet regardless. A sigh shudders through her as she pulls open the door and lethargically picks out a shirt. Just how had she managed to oversleep? There's no school today, but she still has chores. Now she's behind on all of them. How is she going to explain herself to Granny?

Groaning, she summons the energy to yank herself out of her pyjamas and pull her shirt over her head. She's on the way to do the same with her trousers when a particularly bone-rattling drumbeat shakes her out of the fatigue clouding her head.

"Jesus!..." Applejack hisses, whipping her head in the direction of the window, where the sound had come from. "Just who in tarnation is playin' goddess-damned hard metal out here?" She's storming toward said window when when an urgent series of knocks resound from her bedroom door.

When she opens it, Apple Bloom’s standing in the hallway, dressed up in a T-shirt and denim overalls.

"Apple Bloom? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Apple Bloom cocks her head. "...it’s Saturday?"

"Oh," Applejack says. She laughs tiredly. "Oh, right." Her eyes flicker to the breadcrumbs smeared around the girl's lips. "Uh... You've had breakfast?"

"Oh, sorry," Apple Bloom twists around awkwardly, "we were gonna wait for you, but we were callin' outside yer door an' you weren't answerin', so Big Mac said to let you sleep a little longer."

"What? Sleep longer? Y'all should've woken me up. There's the chores I have to get done!" Applejack says incredulously, feeling like an honest-to-goodness fool. The family's had breakfast—that she was supposed to have made—and instead of at least helping out, she's standing around in her room in half-pyjamas.

"C'mon, Applejack, you've got all weekend to do 'em! Besides, me and Big Mac an’ Granny've finished the morning chores already. Anyway, that wasn't what I was here about," Apple Bloom taps her foot impatiently and points behind her. "You've gotta come see what's outside!"

"What's... outside?"

Applejack barely has the time to shove the rest of her clothes on and pull her hair back before Apple Bloom drags her outside the homestead. A cold draught hits her as she walks out through the farmhouse's open doors, a sign of the approaching winter. Shivering, she tugs her coat tighter around herself as she follows her sister.

Parked right outside Sweet Apple Acres is the source of the ear-throttling din. Granny Smith and Big Mac are already there, deep frowns set into either of their faces as they gaze on at it. Applejack catches up to their side, looks at it… looks at it again… and rubs her eyes.

“What in the—?” Applejack manages to get out, before Granny raps her sharply on the back, making her bite down on her lip with a wince. “Sorry.”

“Language, missy,” Granny mutters from beside her, leaning slowly on the nearby fence for support. The old woman breathes out a sigh. “But, I agree.”

The thing is, Applejack isn’t even sure what she’s looking at. It’s as if someone had plucked the phrase "over the top" and fashioned it into a vehicle. Maybe a bus. Applejack’s calling it a bus, but it’s really giving more parade float—the kind in city festivals meant more for decoration and ostentation than as a form of transportation. It’s enormous and bright red, the entire design seemingly inspired by steampunk, though the row of flashing neon LED lights above the glass portholes are a dead giveaway that this is no eighteenth-century train. Attached to the roof of the bus are a twin set of speakers blaring some kind of electro-funk-rock music so loud it has to carry on for miles.

Finally, a lanky man pops out from a window in the vehicle, a straw fedora tipped over a mop of hair dyed firetruck-red. Applejack squints at him, taking in his wacky pinstriped tunic and the bowtie hanging off his front. Dangling from the window, the man beams back, displaying two rows of dazzlingly white teeth, and waves at her.

“Are you the owner of this here bus?” Applejack demands right away, way too cranky and hungry to reciprocate the greeting.

“B-Bus??!” The man shrieks in dismay. “This is no bus! This is my—”

“It’s not just yours, you doofus!” Out of nowhere, a fist collides with the man’s cheek, and he howls, hopping aside to reveal a nearly identical man in the porthole, except with a curled red moustache, dressed in the same ridiculous outfit. “It’s ours.” He looks straight into Applejack’s eyes, adjusting his fedora. “But he’s right about one thing, milady, and that’s that it’s not a bus. It’s our amazing, extraordinary—”

“Fantastic, astonishing—” chimes in the other man, still rubbing his bruised cheek.

“Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000!”

As they exclaim together in unison, a pipe from somewhere on the… Whatever Whatever Squeezy 6000toots, releasing a cloud of confetti that rains down in front of their window and scatters on the ground.

“Y’all are gonna have to clean that up, sonnies,” Granny rebukes, glaring at the mess. “Who are you lot? Out-of-towners?”

“Why such a stick in the mud, dear granny?” The moustached man tuts. “Alright, there, since you’re so interested in us and all. He’s Flim—”

“—and he’s Flam—”

“—and together, we are the world-famousFlim Flam Brothers,” Flim finishes with a flourish. He leans his elbow on the window, grinning. “We’re a pair of travelling salesmen who happened to hear about Barnyard Bargains’ anniversary, and we were hoping to come here to peddle our wares as well.”

How very convincing. Applejack crosses her arms. “An’ as far as I know, y’all aren’t with Barnyard Bargains.”

“You see, there’s opportunity in every community,” Flam responds airily. “You know, as travellers, you can’t build a customer base when you don’t stay in one place for long, so we absolutely must cash in on big events like these. Surely, Miss Applejack, you’d spare a thought for a fellow struggling businessperson like yourself.”

Applejack flinches. “How’d you know my name?”

“Just simple, darling,” Flim waves his hand. “We read the Barnyard Bargains’ advertisements and saw your farm, Sweet Apple Acres, publicised on there. How cute! And why are you so surprised? Could it be that no one usually knows your name?” He frowned, stroking his chin. “That’s a pity. For you see, the Flim Flam brothers are known far and wide. It’s strange, actually, that you don’t know us.”

A scary look on his face, Big Mac moves a step forward, his muscles flexing, but Applejack shoots him a look. He returns the look, but Applejack stares him down until he takes the hint and backs away, sullen.

“Oh c’mon, don’t be so harsh on them, brother,” Flam sighs, mopping his brow. “They live in such a teeeeeny village. You know. They don’t know much about what’s a-happening these days—modern society is all but a mystery to them.”

“Well," Applejack retorts, "if yer so great, Mister Flim and Flam, just go right on to the next town over, I’m sure you’ll find some splendid opportunity there. This spot’s taken, so y’all have no reason to overstay yer welcome.”

At that, Flim only grins wider, flashing his brilliant teeth once again. “Not to rain on your little parade, but there are no rules about who’s allowed to sell on these grounds and who’s not. We checked.

“...And as for the second part, I’m afraid you’ll find we’re quite welcome. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have an audience to entertain.”

Of course, Rainbow Dash chooses right the next day to call her. Actually, she’s been calling her a lot, lately. Like usual, Applejack’s about to hang up when, in her haste, her finger slips and hits the green ‘pick up’ button instead.

“...Hey! Applejack! Applejack?” Rainbow’s surprised voice comes through the receiver. “Hey, you picked up!”

Now it’s awkward to hang up. “Uhh… hey.”

“Dude, what’s up? I haven’t managed to get through to you in like, forever. Have you been kidnapped? Please tell me you haven’t been kidnapped.”

“Uh, nope,” Applejack says. “Not kidnapped.”

“Why do you sound unsure about that,” Rainbow’s reply comes. “Anyway, fine, good to hear you’re a free woman, and all that. Sooo… why the hold up?”

Applejack pauses. “What hold up?”

“You know,” Rainbow’s voice fuzzes. In that span of time, Applejack feels her blood turning to ice. Then her next line hits: “You not picking up calls. Or replying texts. You really had me worried there. Did anything happen?”

“No. Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong,” Applejack says immediately. Shit. That was too quick.

“AJ, please.” Applejack can’t see Rainbow’s face, of course, but she can imagine it all the same—worry tracing the edges of her eyes, creasing in the lines of her lips. “You know you can tell me about anything, right? ”

Applejack has to take a moment. “Rainbow, I just… I know yer really busy. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Bother you?” Rainbow sounds in disbelief. “How is picking up my calls going to bother me?”

“Listen, I just got a lot on my mind now, okay? I gotta go now,” Applejack blurts, and hangs up right after. She makes it exactly five more steps down the hallway until her phone starts buzzing in her hand again.

Groaning, she slams her finger on red. This is when a blur of perfect indigo waves pops out from one of the side doors.

“Uwaaaaaaaagh!” Applejack screams.

“There you are!” The blur, who Applejack eventually identifies as Rarity, exclaims. She’s beaming from ear to ear, looking absolutely ecstatic. “I’ve been looking most everywhere for you!”

“Uhhhh, you have?” Applejack flips shut her phone and shoves it into her pocket. “What for?” She doesn’t remember there being a gathering today. Was it mentioned when she wasn’t around? It’s hard to keep track these days.

“Do you have anything urgent on today?”

“I mean, no, but what-”

“Then you’re just in time,” Rarity says, which does absolutely nothing to allay her confusion. She grabs her by both shoulders, whisking her around until she’s facing the door. “I promise, I won’t take long.”

Not having much of a say in the matter, Applejack is bodily lugged into the room. They’re in the fashion club’s clubroom, which is actually a classroom like any other but, under Rarity's direction, it’s been transformed so much that a stranger would scarcely believe it belongs in a school establishment and not a boutique chain. Bursting through the rhinestone-studded door, Rarity drags Applejack past pillars covered by chequered wallpaper and sweeps aside the thick fuschia swathes of curtain that drape from corner to corner. Applejack’s eyes take in tables piled with sectioned containers of sequins and ribbons and buttons, half-opened drawers that brim with colourful stacks of fabric and a massive board on which spools of cross-wound thread hang on plastic pegs.

Finally, Rarity releases her grip on her. Applejack falls straight onto a plush velvet stool, which swivels around under the momentum until she’s facing a gold-framed, full-length mirror.

“Hoo-whee,” Applejack stablises herself with her hands. “When did you get so strong?”

Rarity puffs out her cheeks. “Do you mean to imply I’m weak, darling?”

“Well, you’ve never really been the sporty type. Also, don’t you ask your juniors to carry all your bags for you?”

“Only because they’re such sweethearts,” Rarity bats her eyelashes, before coughing delicately into her elbow and flicking a hand. “That aside! No, I’m not engaging in any sports. What I have been doing, though, is visiting the gym.”

Applejack gives Rarity’s figure a once-over. A model-standard hourglass. Yep. Nothing new. “What, are you trying to lose weight? You look fine.”

“Heavens, no,” Rarity put her hands on her hips. “Maybe a year or two ago I would’ve, but not anymore. I just wanted to get stronger, is all. Muscles do really define the physique,” she pats her abdominal area. “Not that I wish to get ripped like some kind of, ahem, wrestler, of course, but just toned.”

“Oh, that’s,” Applejack scratches her head. “Cool.”

Rarity nods affirmatively. “Now on to business!” Bending over, she rummages through her workspace. Meanwhile, Applejack’s gaze wanders about the clubroom. There’s a few things that Applejack didn’t see the last time she was here. A bubbling crystal fountain beside the potted plant. The couch has a new sheet over it, this one with swirling clovers. The door that leads to the classroom next door is obscured by a curtain of glittering beads that mimic falling snow.

Rarity always leads her club in taking the effort to redecorate the clubroom to match the seasons and special occasions, even if the room will never be seen by most of the school population. Applejack wonders, wistfully, if the clubroom will stay like this when Rarity's graduated—or if the work will be too much for future club members to keep up, and the room will eventually go back to the way it was: an ordinary classroom indistinguishable from any other.

“There we go,” Rarity announces as she brandishes a bundle of measuring tapes from a basket. Applejack's limbs are pulled this way and that as she mutters strings of numbers under her breath not unlike magical incantations. Then, with a magnifying glass, she scrutinises every square centimetre of Applejack's face furiously. When she’s done, she turns away from her and clasps her hands behind her back.

"Well, Applejack, I'm afraid there's something very wrong with you." she says.

"...What is it now?"

A whirlwind of indigo as the girl whips around. Applejack finds herself face-to-face with a long acrylic nail.

"You,” she declares imperiously, “are a mess,"

Applejack shifts in her seat. "I’m sorry?"

"But don’t you worry," Rarity's voice becomes sibilant, and it's around here Applejack starts to get a really bad feeling about this. "I know just the thing to fix it."

When it comes to fashion, Rarity Belle is a demon in the deceiving form of a teenage girl. Applejack is put through the eight stages of frou-frou hell—Petticoats, Lace, Pleats, Ribbons, Sequins, Lace, Fleece, More Lace—before Applejack stumbles out of the changing room, head in a daze, and Rarity ushers her onto the chair, granting her (temporary) reprieve.

“How is it now? Be honest,” she says. She’s still smiling, but because she's also baring her teeth, it comes out as a totally-not-terrifying hiss.

Shuddering, Applejack rights herself and gazes at her reflection in the spotless mirror. The sight very nearly takes her breath away. Sometimes, Rarity is so over-blown and airy-fairy in the way she talks that it’s easy to forget that she’s legitimately good at what she does. Applejack can appreciate that, but…

“Does it really need that much lace?” Applejack tugs at the sleeve.

“Yes,” Rarity says.

"Oh," Applejack says. "Okay."

Rarity blinks. "That's all? You're not protesting?"

"...Was I supposed to?"

"Applejack!" she scolds. "I was merely being jocular! How am I supposed to construe the most fabulous Fall Formal outfit possible for you without your honest feedback?"

"Fall Formal?" Applejack repeats. "Ohh, so that's what all this was for."

Rarity raises an eyebrow. "Well, what did you think this was for?"

"I dunno,” Applejack shrugs. “Another one of your manic dress-up episodes? Stress couture? Whatever it is yer callin' it these days."

Rarity does a little stomp with her foot. "Why I never!- Okay, you have a point." She clears her throat. "Anyway, let's get back to business. What would you like me to change?"

"Yer seriously takin' my advice? After the mess the girls and I made of your dresses for the second year Gala?” Applejack laughs. “I trust yer creative judgement just fine, Rares."

Rarity folds her arms and sniffs. "Your taste in fashion may be… questionable, at times, yes.” Applejack snorts. Rarity gives her a derisive glance, then continues, “But this is different from the Gala. The Gala was a public event the fashion club’s reputation on the line, not to mention the school’s national image. It's only natural that a certain standard was to be expected at such events, and you and the girls’ choices of dresses did not meet that standard.”

She holds out her hands. “The Fall Formal, however, is just for students and teachers. The only one actually going to suffer from others' judgement is yourself, so, if you don't mind that, then it's a good chance to show up in something you truly want to be in. So, if there is anything you really want, make it known clearly."

What I really want, huh, Applejack thinks to herself wryly, I don't think you could help with that, Rares.Still, she’s not going to suddenly unload her emotional baggage on her friend like that. Instead she says, "But it's like, you've already made the dress. It would be a plum waste to remake somethin' just because it isn’t a hundred percent perfect. This dress is fine as it is. I ain’t one to make a fuss."

"Dear, art is never a waste," Rarity wags a finger. "That aside, this is only the mock-up. I’ll still have to make the final version either way."

"You’re pullin’ my leg." If this is what the mock-up looks like, then the actual dress must bend the galaxy, or something.

“Why, of course not. The dress you are wearing now is simply something I threw together from existing pieces and donated clothing,” Rarity gives a frustrated sigh, as if the masterpiece currently on Applejack’s form can be in any way described as ‘thrown together’. “I might not have the time to create a dress for you from scratch, but I can still make plenty of modifications to the pieces I do have on hand. You see, my original intention was indeed to make it from scratch, but as I tasked myself to make dresses for my dearest friends for their very last Fall Formal, I was determined to make them the very best of my works! So I spent such long days agonising and agonising over the designs…”

Applejack stifles a chuckle. “Rarity.”

“...and I must tell you, I do take quite a while to conceptualise my designs, oftentimes even longer than the time I take to make the actual design. Every piece I create is not just something you put on, no no. It is a work of art. In fact, with a well-designed outfit, you become a piece of art yourself—ahem, not in a way that objectifies you, but one that allows you to express yourself—but the point is, a make-over can accentuate your natural looks, or transform you into something unrecognisable—and despite what certain fashion critics might say, I'm inclined to believe both are formidable—"

"Rarityyyy."

"—and admirable endeavours in their own right. Ah!” Rarity stops short. Her pale cheeks flush as she covers her mouth. “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry. I got caught up in my rambling again, didn’t I?”

“Well, yeah, but you did say somethin’ interesting in that last part there,” Applejack leans onto her elbows, pondering. “When you said whether a make-over brings out what you already have, or turns you into something else, they’re both worth admirin’. But if a dress turned you into someone else entirely, then isn’t it bein’ untruthful? Like yer pretendin’ to be something yer not. ”

Rarity taps her chin. “Think about it this way. Isn’t the purpose of a make-over to make you feel confident? If donning a sort of disguise makes you feel good about yourself, then I don’t see what’s the fuss.”

“Mmm… I dunno. It just seems like people who do that ain't confident in their own skin.”

“But we as people aren’t ever stagnant, yes? Those who are aspiring to improve; are they betraying themselves by trying to become a better version of themselves? Is a butterfly not just an adult caterpillar?

“The caterpillar doesn’t choose to become a butterfly.”

“Hmph. Well, I guess for us, transformation isn't written in the stars like it is for our hypothetical caterpillar, so we have to decide it for ourselves. In a way that’s a good thing, no? I think that's also a reason why you can fake it till you make it. Do you remember how quiet I used to be, in first year?”

“Yeah,” Applejack says. She feels a fond smile slip its way onto her face at the memory. “Hell, back when I’d just joined Canterlot, I was the talkative one of us two. You was always so absorbed in scribblin’ designs in those notebooks of yers, or murmurin' to yourself about gems an’ chantilly an' the like. Now ya gab a whole lot more."

"Mhm. But it wasn’t the most natural process getting there,” Rarity rubs her hand on her own arm in circles, looking aside. “You see… when I made up my mind to start my own fashion line, I realised I couldn’t just keep quietly sketching my designs behind the curtains. I wanted to be the kind of person everyone would know, and to do that, I had to go out on the stage and make myself known, yes?”

Applejack knows. Rarity and the other girls, they'd probably all started high school confused about who they would be, even if they never showed it. Applejack had thought she was a step ahead of everyone, because she already had a place she belonged to on the farm. Now, at the end of four years, they're all rushing ahead toward bright futures, while she's the one hesitating. She's slowly coming to realise that she hasn't budged from that same spot—because she hadn’t wanted to. Applejack never wanted to change. Why do people love changing that much, anyway? Why can’t everything just stay the same?

She lets out a breath slowly. “Wow, you sure do think a lot about this stuff, don’t you?”

“Hmm? It is rather high-class to ponder such philosophical quandaries, after all.”

“Oh. Guess I better stop thinkin’ too much, then,” Applejack feels her lips quirk up.

Rarity puts her hands on her hips. “Applejack, being ladylike isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

Applejack waves her hand dismissively. “It’s fine and dandy if you do it, but I dun want no part of yer high-brow shindigs, bless yer heart.”

“High-class, not high-brow!”

“There is literally no difference.”

Amid the laughter, Applejack’s phone starts buzzing in her pocket.

“Oh! I’ll leave you to that then-” Applejack can feel Rarity’s stare on her when she flips open the phone and hangs up. “Um. Who was that?”

"No one.”

Rarity raises an eyebrow.

“Look, I’ll get to it later, alright?” Applejack gets up and starts heading for the door. “If you’re done now, I gotta be goin’.”

“Ah ah ah, not so fast, dearie,” Rarity grabs her shoulders again and steers her towards the other door. "Why not you go have a seat in the tearoom and chat with the others over a cup of chamomile. I’ve still some things to settle, but I’ll come join you afterwards. And change out first—I wouldn’t want you ruining the surprise!"

True to word, Applejack isn’t the only subject of Rarity's abduction. When she’s finished gently wrangling herself out of the dress, she walks through the curtain of beads into the tearoom, where there’s Pinkie with her legs up on a creamy grey clamshell sofa, talking animatedly with a porcelain cup in her hands. Twilight sits beside her on the carpet, writing some essay on the coffee table. Fluttershy sits alone on a red two-seater next to them.

“Heyyy! Applejack!” Pinkie spots her and waves enthusiastically as she leaps off the sofa. “Let me get’chu a cup of tea”

“Careful Pinkie, you’re still holding your cup!” Fluttershy calls, eyes widening in alarm.

Miraculously, the steaming brew sloshing about in said cup doesn’t spill as Pinkie, with her one free hand, pours from the steel thermos a tall stream of tea that lands perfectly into an empty cup. She giggles as she offers the brimming cup to Applejack. “Silly, I wait tables like this all the time at Sugarcube Corner! Once, I filled seven glasses with milkshake with twenty plates stacked on my shoulders. This is a piece of cake!”

“Just because you can do it, doesn’t mean you should do it…” Fluttershy quivers visibly.

“She enjoys it,” Twilight mutters as she inks another sentence onto the foolscap pad. “A little too much, if you ask me.”

The door to the toilet clicks open.

Rainbow Dash steps out from within. Her hair is wrapped out of view in a cotton towel. Rose eyes flick about, then focus on Applejack. They widen imperceptibly.

Applejack does the obvious. She scans the room for the nearest possible distraction. Her gaze hones in on the white cat currently curled up on Fluttershy’s lap.

“Oh! Opal’s here?” She crams into the two-seat next to Fluttershy. She stretches out her fingers to stroke the cat, only to recoil when she swats at her and hisses. “Whoa, heheh, not today either, huh? A shame.”

Rarity sometimes smuggles Opal, her pet Persian, into school from her nearby apartment. Rarity keeps Opal’s long white fur really clean, so it looks as soft and untainted as a cloud. Applejack would really like to pet it, but alas, Opal hates Applejack. It isn’t personal though, since Opal hates virtually everyone except her owner, and also Fluttershy, because the girl has a ridiculous talent with animals and they adore her universally.

“Bad girl, Opal,” Fluttershy reprimands the cat gently. “You know Applejack’s a friend.”

Opal meows at her and settles back in her lap, blinking large, meek eyes. Jerk.

Meanwhile, Pinkie’s laughter rings out as she serves Rainbow a similar cup of tea. An incredibly stony expression on her face, Rainbow accepts it and sinks into the sofa after Pinkie, looking at Applejack. She’s still looking at her when her hand brings out her phone from her pocket, and gives the screen a long, slow swipe.

In short, if Applejack thought it was awkward before, now it’s really awkward.

Good thing is, no one else in the room seems to pick up on it. When Pinkie Pie’s involved, lulls in conversation are harder to find than dry wood in a thunderstorm. Today, Pinkie thumbs at her phone and spouts, “Can you guys help me figure out if Cheese Sandwich is trying to seduce me?”

Applejack doesn’t spit out her tea, but she comes close. “Cheese Sandwich is trying to what?”

Cheese Sandwich is a dude who transferred into CHS last year from Manehattan. The six of them got to know Cheese when he was on the same planning committee for a school party as Pinkie Pie, and Pinkie grumbled about him for weeks about how him always trying to outdo her in party planning despite him being the newbie. It took a few squabbles, and the one time they came near to actually burning down the school while trying to bake the best birthday cake, before the rivalry turned into grudging respect, friendship, and eventually… whatever this was.

“Mm-hm! He sent me this,” Pinkie says. She turns around her phone and Applejack expects to see hearts or chocolates or something, but instead it's a picture of of one of those yellow rubber chickens that squawk when you squeeze their necks. This chicken is well-worn, its neck practically shrivelled up from years of use. Applejack knows that chicken.

Fluttershy rubs her chin. "He sent you a picture of Mr Bones?"

Yep. Like Pinkie, Cheese names his stuffed toys. Peas in a pod.

“The caption…” Twilight reads. “Mr Bones thinks this rug needs to go.”

Everyone notes the pair of jumbo scissors hooked around Mr Bones’ flabby rubber wing.

"There's also a date written on the card he’s holding," Applejack points out. She squints. “That date looks really familiar for some reason.”

“Yeah.” Noisily, Rainbow drains her tea. “That’s because it’s prom day.”

Twilight frowns. “Fall Formal’s not prom. Prom’s only held for students when they graduate.”

Rainbow rolls her eyes. “A prom’s a prom.”

“Uhh… but what does that have to do with destroying rugs?”

“How about Pinkie,” Fluttershy says with far too much kindness for the oddity of the dilemma at hand, “you tell us why you think he’s seducing you.”

“Becauseeee…” Pinkie sucks a breath into her cheeks until she resembles a chipmunk. The sound that escapes from her sounds like one, too, when she squeaks, “because he’s holding a pair of scissors and the rug needs to go so he’s saying that Mr Bones wants to cut a rug which is a phrase that means ‘to dance’ that I used in one of the songs I’ve written and Cheese once told me that Mr Bones is like the physical manifestation of himself?”

“I did not understand a word of that,” Applejack deadpans.

“Basically, Cheese asked you to dance with him at prom,” Fluttershy cups her own cheeks. “Awww, that’s adorable! And you like him back?”

“Emmm,” Pinkie’s cheeks actually seem to darken. Applejack’s pretty sure she’s never seen Pinkie look this flustered. “Yessss?”

“I’m happy for you two,” Twilight says, smiling. “Go on, reply him.”

“Huh, wait up a second,” Applejack interrupts. “Not that I’m not wishin’ y’all the best, but how are you sure that he likes you because of that? Can’t you ask someone to dance as friends?”

“A man doesn’t just ask a lady to prom as friends, my dear.”

Rarity materialises, no doubt summoned by the topic of romantic relationships being brought up.

“As for I,” Rarity boasts, “I’ve already been asked to prom by no less than seven suitors! All of them had such hearts in their eyes…”

“That’s great, Rares…”

“-So it was such a shame turning all seven of them down.”

“You what.”

“Oho, the suitors were magnificent indeed,” Rarity says, batting her lashes. “But I’m saving my hand for my one and only prince, that Blueblood guy from the class down the hall.”

“It’s not like the Fall Formal’s a marriage ceremony,” Twilight sighs. “It’s not even a prom, for goodness’ sake.”

“A prom’s a prom!~” Pinkie chimes happily.

“Well,” Twilight rolls her eyes. “Suit yourselves. I’m not looking to dance with anyone. I think I’ll just be sticking around with you girls, unless any of you others have partners too.”

“I’m not going with anyone either, so I can stay with you,” Fluttershy smiles.

Pinkie deflates a little, “Aw, Twi! Now I feel bad!”

Through this, Rainbow stays silent. Fluttershy takes notice.

“What about you? Is there anyone you’re going to the formal with?”

“Eww, no,” Rainbow rolls her eyes. Then, quieter, she adds, “At least, not yet. There is someone I’m… planning to ask.”

Rarity’s jaw drops, her eyes azure saucers. Twilight’s pen clatters to the table. Fluttershy puts a hand over her mouth.

“Ohhh? Ohhhh??” Pinkie’s eyebrows are basically in the sky. “Who is it?”

Rainbow tips her head to the side. As she does so, a strand of multicoloured hair wriggles free from its towelled prison, her hair never one to be kept down, and falls in a curl on her shoulder. She’s not looking at Pinkie as she answers. No—she’s looking at Applejack, again. And this time, Applejack can’t help but look back.

Her eyes are a flashing rose, as always, but not soft and smooth like petal buds. They're sharp, piercing, the kind of bristling thorns. Blinding. Like Rainbow’s trying to take her apart with just her gaze, from the other side of the table, to shave right through the cobwebs in her soul and learn the secrets that they bind.

And Applejack would let her. But what if she cuts through the mist, shreds away the uncertainty, and finds nothing there? What if she’s not hiding anything, anything at all… and the truth is that that’s all she is—a mass of worries and pasted-together pieces of the person that others need her to be? She doesn’t want to answer those questions. And that’s why she won’t.

Finally, eyes still locked onto hers, Rainbow speaks again.

“I’m just not sure if the person will agree.”

“Of course they will, Dashie. Now tell me who it is, I promise I won’t spill. I’ll even Pinkie Promise on it.” Pinkie scoots over on the sofa.

Rainbow snickers. The eye contact breaks as she looks back to Pinkie and uses her palm to push away the wagging finger in her face. “I trust you, Pinkie, but Rarity is sitting right there.”

“Well excuse me!”

Meanwhile, Applejack’s heart thumps solidly in her chest, a physical reminder that she isn’t in a dream. Rainbow’s still bantering along with the others like normal, as if nothing had happened at all. Good. Applejack has other things to worry about, after all, like…

“Shit,” Applejack mutters as she remembers. “Oh, consarnit.”

From beside her, Fluttershy shifts and tilts her head at her. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Applejack tries to control her breathing. Thinks about the date on Mr Bones’ placard, counts the days towards it, and yep, she hasn’t just made a miscalculation. Involuntarily, she shudders. “I just done realised Fall Formal is in two weeks. That’s not gonna be enough time for the Decor Club to finalise plans.”

“Wait,” Rainbow raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re in Decor Club?”

“Uh-huh,” Applejack sighs. She can feel already the beginnings of a pulsating headache, a sensation she’s become well-acquainted with in the past weeks. “To make matters worse, I actually volunteered to lead operations, so now I’m the one responsible for whatever happens. But I got so busy with the farm and school that I completely forgot to keep track of time.”

“Well, you don’t have to be the only one,” Twilight states. “The rest of the club is supposed to pitch in too. That’s how clubs work.”

“And if that’s not enough, we can help you out!” Pinkie chirrups. “You know I plan the most supercalifragilistic parties! I can drag Cheese along, too.”

"Pinkie, no one's used supercalifragilistic since grade school," Rainbow drones. "Actually, I think grade schoolers haven’t used that word in a decade."

"Well maybe they should!" Pinkie crosses her arms. "It's a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious word!"

"I can't believe you can say that whole word without tripping your tongue, but you still have trouble with reading organic compounds," Twilight says as Rainbow facepalms.

"Hey! It's not my fault those chemistry people named their compounds stuff like, two four dinitrophenoxidousolic three Arrhenius Lewis base acid!"

"Now you're just making it up."

Pinkie’s eyes uncross and stare intently into nowhere. "I rest my case, Twi."

“Pinkie has a point, though. We could really be of good help,” Fluttershy pipes up, dragging the conversation gently back around. “On top of that, Rarity is good at interior design too, and Rainbow's just as good as you at carpentry. If you’d just arrange with the Decor Club, we could—”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t need your help,” Applejack cuts in. “We don’t need your help,” she amends, after a beat. “We have things under control… I’m sure.”

Applejack watches as the girls look between each other. There’s uncertainty in those flickering gazes. Concern, too. This isn’t the first time she’s found herself in a situation like this: one where she’s working herself to the bone, scooping up every task she can find into her arms, until she's struggling to breathe under the weight of it all and then someone will ask, do you need help? And every single time, she'll turn them down.

She does this, because she’s supposed to be—scratch that, she is strong and dependable. How many teenagers can you name that can run a farm, operate a business, take care of eldery and children, and study for exams at the same time? Applejack sure can't think of any, while she's done it for years now and survived. It's why pushing her burdens onto someone else weaker than her just seems wrong in every way possible. Is that so hard to understand?

“If you’re sure,” Twilight Sparkle says carefully, as if Applejack’s stubborn pride is that fragile that it’ll shatter if she’d pressed on it just a little harder.

Thinking back on it, it probably would have.

"Uh, the dorms are that way?"

"Nah,” Rainbow shoves her hands into her pockets, gaze trained ahead. “Why not I walk with you to the carpark?”

“Oh. Sure.”

After packing up things in the tearoom, the six of them left school together. Most of them bid their goodbyes at the bus stop, others at the road leading to the subway. Now it’s just down to Rainbow Dash and her, the whistle of the evening breeze, and the dying sunlight scattering on the tarmac pavement below their feet.

Rainbow looks different from when Applejack last saw her. Her having removed the towel from earlier, Rainbow’s hair is in full view. It looks longer now, tumbling past her shoulders. But that fact pales in comparison to the most obvious change: her roots have nearly fully grown out, her natural brown hair now only streaked with those vibrant colours.

And, it could be just Applejack’s imagination, but her concealer seems thicker now, the blending not quite there. Under her eyes there’s enough to look caked on. An acne breakout, perhaps?

"Hey," Rainbow begins.

Applejack jolts and shoots her gaze into the horizon. After realising that might sem too suspicious, she turns back to look at Rainbow, who’s staring at her a little strangely.

"...I got your cider," Rainbow says finally. She holds up her gloved hand and curls her fingers to shake an imaginary bottle. "From Bulk Biceps."

"Oh," Applejack says, faint. "Um. Was it good?"

"Not as good as the kind straight from the barrel," Rainbow answers with an indifference Applejack isn’t used to. This is Rainbow Dash talking about apple cider, for heaven's sake, so clearly she’d stayed behind to talk about something else. Sure enough, after a short pause, she skips right on to a completely unrelated subject. "Bulk said you were at track tryouts.”

“Uh huh,” Applejack responds passively. “I passed it to him then, the cider.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow agrees. “I didn’t know you were trying for clubs at all. I didn’t know you were in Decor Club.” Her tone has changed, the feigned nonchalance stripped now, replaced with something verging on accusatory.

And yes, Applejack may be pretty horrible with reading people at times, but even she can tell there’s a conversation itching to happen here. She just isn't quite sure how to begin approaching the storm brewing in the air. So, she shrugs herself.

“Well, now you do.”

Rainbow laughs, though it's humourless. “That’s all you’re gonna say?” Her footsteps have picked up. Applejack has to quicken her own pace to match her step. Rainbow goes on, “I feel like we never get to talk anymore. I don’t even know what’s going on in your life now, or what's been going on in the past month.”

"Well-"

"Or anyone else's, for that matter," Rainbow cuts her off. "And I get it, okay, we're in senior year, and end-of-semester exams are coming up, and everyone's got different classes and I’ve got flight school so it's harder to see each other. I get that. But at least the others haven't been actively avoiding me!"

Ah. There it is. Rainbow's eyes look bright–fuck. She's hurt. But Applejack thinks: well, she's not the only one.

"Now that's big talk, comin' from the one who's been a stranger the most outta all of us this fall," Applejack folds her arms. "Is Miss Wonderbolt starting to miss her friends back on planet Earth?"

"I- what??!" Rainbow spurts.

"And if you thought from a point of view other than yer own for once, you'll notice that I haven't been avoiding you," Applejack lies. She follows it up with something true, but she still can’t bring herself to look at her. "I'm busy with my life too, just that I don't go blabbin’ about it to everyone I know. Sweet Apple Acres ain’t in a very good spot at the moment. So pardon me if I'm a mite too occupied to be constantly chewing the fat with ya."

“Oh-” Rainbow falters. “I’m…sorry to hear that. But that still doesn’t explain why you keep hanging up my calls. Plus, you stopped calling in the mornings.”

“I stopped calling, because you weren’t pickin’ up,” Applejack says patiently.

Rainbow’s gaze hardens. "Yeah, so? I said I was busy! You know that sometimes I oversleep, that’s why I miss your calls. It doesn’t mean I don’t wanna talk.”

“Really? Because in the same way you said it seemed like I was avoiding you, I could also say that you’re avoiding me.”

Rainbow falls silent. Her pointed gaze withers away, dropping from Applejack to linger on the ground. Applejack’s heart stutters, wondering if she’d gone too far, and she’s scrambling to put together an awkward apology-

-when Rainbow speaks again, her voice soft. Fragile. “Look, I know I’ve been really caught up in all my commitments recently, and I guess you have been too." She fiddles with her pocket. "I’m not gonna say sorry or anything ‘cause I didn’t do anything wrong, and you don’t have to because you didn’t either, I suppose."

Applejack might’ve felt better if Rainbow had just blown up on her, maybe shoved her, or something. The face that Rainbow’s making right now? This is worse.

Hesitating briefly, Rainbow adds, "But still… I…”

And then she trails off.

They’ve reached the end of the road. They’re standing in the school carpark, in front of the van. Applejack and Rainbow Dash have always been fast runners, which made them brisk walkers, too. If they hadn't moved so quickly, maybe the conversation wouldn't have had to end there. There’s still a million things Applejack wants to say to Rainbow, after all. Like, I’m sorry anyway and who were you going to ask to Fall Formal and I actually really, really like you please don’t go.

Rainbow’s staring at the van too, her expression unreadable.

“...You never did take me for a ride in it,” she says finally.

Despite everything, Applejack snorts softly. "You're still on about that, huh."

“Well, what can I say.” A wry smile. "I don't forget a promise."

“Sorry, RD,” Applejack says. She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound as detached as it does in her own ears when she explains, “But I’ve really got to get home fast to help and plus, I’ve got deliveries to run with the van today.”

Visibly, Rainbow slumps. Her expression needles at Applejack’s heart. “I know.”

5- Clouds (Part 2)

Applejack doesn’t feel great, when she gets home.

Granted, she hasn’t felt great in a long time. That, at least, she can admit. Apple Bloom seems to pick up on this; she doesn’t say much all the while they were on the road back from her school, just grips onto her hand and silently stares the other way at trees or birds or whatever might capture her interest more than her curiosity. Applejack’s glad for it. After that earlier conversation, she really isn’t in the mood for answering questions, nor does she think it would’ve made her feel any better.

Like Applejack always says to herself, though, not feeling great doesn’t mean the world stops spinning. After leaving Apple Bloom to her room, Applejack steps into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

There, she finds Big Mac standing behind the counter.

She furrows her brows. “What are you doing here?”

Big Mac reaches an arm forward and grabs an egg from the carton. “Helping.”

Her eyes narrow as she steps around to the fridge, popping the door open. “I don’t need help.”

“Eenope.” Big Mac agrees, but he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing as Applejack throws ingredients out onto the counter. “Did you get any sleep the night before?”

“...Yeah?” Applejack isn’t so sure where this conversation is going.

“But you haven’t been sleeping well,” Big Mac moves his elbow as a carton of milk goes on the counter. “There’s something bothering you.”

Oh, so that’s what this is. An interrogation in disguise. Big Mac was clever to do it during dinner preparation so she can’t just leave, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t as subtle as a rock. Fight stubbornness with stubbornness—that’s the Apple family way.

“I mean, shucks, of course there is. Flim and Flam keep stealin’ all our business,” Applejack says, lifting her head to look out the window. She senses Big Mac’s gaze following hers. From here, they can see Granny at the grass patch together with one of Carrot Top’s siblings, ringing a cow bell and hollering as they do their best to draw customers toward them. The crowd pays them no heed, joining the snaking queues in front of the S.S.C.S. 6000 instead. Their eyes are glued onto Flim and Flam as they twirl across a hoisted stage in ballet tutus, or something.

Big Mac looks down and taps his egg on the side of the mixing bowl. The yellow yolk slips out from the shell’s fissure and plops silently into the bowl, all calm and quiet-like, unlike the tumult of emotions roiling in her gut. “Ain’t the first time we’ve dealt with competitors. The Pears bug us all year round.”

“But this is different from the Pears,” Applejack gives a frustrated sigh. “The Flim Flams, they’re not just offerin’ discounts. They’re straight up givin’ out trip tickets to Cloudsdale, or as far as Las Pegasus—”

“They’re lottery tickets, not trip tickets—”

“But it’s workin’!” Applejack shuts the fridge with more force than necessary. She heaves a sigh and places her hands on the counter, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s an important time, an’ with the revenue drops I’m- I’m just worried sick that we won’t make it through the winter.”

“We’ll make it through, just like we always have,” Big Mac says. He rests his whisk across the rim of the bowl and turns around to face her properly. “I’m more worried about you.”

“About me?” Applejack raises her eyebrows. “What for?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well. You look constantly tired and you snap at the slightest thing,” Big Mac exhales slowly. “Yer dealin’ with problems on yer lonesome again. Problems you ain’t tellin’ nobody.”

Applejack stills. “We’ve had this same conversation before a thousand times, Mac. You’re overworking yourself, yada-yada-ya, you need a break. If I take a nap, will you leave me alone?”

“You wouldn’t take the nap,” Big Mac states plainly, and he’s right, “and even if you did, no.”

Brothers. Christ. Groaning, she takes up Big Mac’s abandoned whisk into her own hands and resumes beating the eggs. Big Mac, evidently seeing no reasoning with her, picks up her ingredients and moves for the stovetop. Applejack pays him no mind, just keeps focusing on the eggs swirling about in the bowl, most certainly over-beaten by now. The eggs, the eggs, the eggs-

“Yer gonna add that to the eggs?” Big Mac’s voice interrupts.

Applejack looks down at the pepper shaker in her hands. Except, it’s not a pepper shaker, but a jar of jellybeans. She doesn't know since when she'd had jellybeans in her kitchen, nor how they got there, nor how she could've mistaken it for pepper. She looks to her brother, back at her hands, and then sets the jar down to close her eyes.

“...I’m losing it, aren’t I.”

Big Mac eyes her. “And you still don’t want to talk about it?”

“Okay, fine. Fine,” Applejack surrenders. "I had a fight with a friend. See? T’ain’t no big deal."

"What did you fight about?"

“It’s… well, it’s a really long story.”

“Doesn’t seem like such a ‘small deal’, then.”

What had Applejack said about brothers? She pinches the bridge of her nose, “As I was sayin’. We were fighting… well, not really actual fighting, but Rainbow was mad at me because I’d been, maybe, kinda, sorta ignoring her.”

“Why? Did Rainbow Dash do somethin’?” Big Mac’s gaze darkens.

“No, no, get that scary look off your face,” Applejack swipes at the air in front of him. “To be honest, it’s mostly my fault. Actually, scratch that, entirely my fault. Y’see… well…” Applejack looks down and sighs. “Reckon it’s a real stupid reason. A while ago, Rainbow got accepted into the Wonderbolts—as you might remember, from that TV programme—and she started getting busy. And I felt… I don’t know. Suddenly we barely got to talk or see each other anymore, and it made me feel somethin’ awful. It felt like she was gettin’ all cool and big and important, like she forgot all about me.”

“I thought you said you were ignoring her, not the other way.”

“Yeah, I kind of…” Applejack sighs again. “Decided to ignore her back? I mean, I didn’t think she would care, since she was always too busy for me anyway.”

“But she did,” Big Mac points out.

“That she did. That’s probably- no, that’s definitely why she got mad at me, an’ now I feel even more awful than before. But truth is…” Applejack gulps, unnamed feelings stirring up inside her. The words, having been bottled up for so long, come rushing out of the opened floodgates before she can stop them: “when she got into the Wonderbolts, I realised she was gunna leave Canterlot, so I guess I got pretty upset. I…” she confesses, her voice wobbly to her own ears. “I really didn’t want her to go.”

Big Mac gives her a long look. His broad shoulders go up… down… with each inhale and exhale.

“You like her.”

Applejack definitely does not jump. “What?”

Big Mac looks away. “...It was pretty obvious, really. Y’ain’t good at hiding yer feelings. Though, I thought you got over it already.”

“Got over…?” Applejack murmurs. “What do you mean, got over… oh.” The vaguely warm feelings of relief that had come over her by releasing her frustrations vanish, replaced with the crushing slab of reality. An unpleasant shiver runs down her spine. “My middle-school crush? I got over my crush. I didn’t get over bein’ into girls.”

He shuffles in place. “But you have to try… You know. Granny.”

“Believe me, Mac,” Applejack breathes out slowly. “I’ve tried.”

“I mean…” Big Mac’s eyes shift. “You can still marry a guy even if you don’t love them, right? We’re short-handed as it is, and the likes of Rainbow Dash… wouldn’t be very good help. Plus, we need to have kids to take on the farm. Although, I suppose you could adopt… but then they'll eventually want to find their birth parents, you know? They wouldn’t stay." Applejack could tell he was trying to be understanding, but knowing that didn’t help.

Yeah. In the end, it's always about going back to the place where you came from, isn't it? No matter how far you look. No matter how far you go. It's a part of you, always. That alone has never changed.

"I'm sorry, but you know…"

“No, don't be. You’re right,” Applejack says. Her voice has never sounded so tiny. She swallows heavily, “It’s not realistic at all for me to chase her. Just… yeah. I'll get over it.”

Big Mac’s jaw visibly tightens. “Applejack…”

“Just… forget I said anythin', alright? Sorry,” Applejack looks away. And then they continue cooking in silence, which is just what she wanted in the first place anyway.

One uneventful dinner later, everyone puts themselves to bed early. They’re all tuckered out from the effort exhausted at the booth against the Flim Flams, much as said effort was futile, so it’s understandable. Well, ‘everyone’ except Apple Bloom, apparently, as Applejack finds when she checks out the ruckus in the living room and sees her little sister wide awake, working on the shishi-odoshi.

“I done told ya yer supposed to get my supervision before ya drill anythin’,” Applejack says.

Vrrrrrr! Vrrrrrrrrrrrr! Apple Bloom looks up briefly, but doesn’t respond. Maybe she can’t hear her over the revving of the drill? Stepping around the bamboo poles scattered about the floor, Applejack seats herself next to the girl, whose hazel eyes remain focused on her work.

With another loud noise, the metal drill bit sinks, carving a hole through the bamboo.

“Careful of splinters," Applejack murmurs, not taking her eyes off her.

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom's lips barely twitch. Vrrrrr!

“Don’t want any of ‘em to get in yer eyes.”

“That’s- ngh- why I’m wearin’ safety goggles.” Vrrrrr!

“Could still happen. An’ they could cut yer hands.”

Vrrrrr! “I’m wearin’ gloves.” Vrrrrrrr! Vrrrrrrrr!

For a moment all is silent save for the sound of the drill. After a while, Apple Bloom finishes the second hole and sets aside the pole. She sits back down on her folded knees and wipes her glistening brow with the back of her gloved hand.

“Want me to do it?” Applejack voices.

“Ugh, no!” Apple Bloom shuts off the drill and lifts her goggles to look at her. “I’ve done drilling a million times before. Why are you even here?”

“I’m just here to make sure yer safe,” Applejack says. “Are you sure you dun want me to do it for ya instea-”

“No!” Apple Bloom snaps.

Applejack frowns. “Now, Apple Bloom, you don’t talk to me that way-”

But Apple Bloom continues, rapid-fire. “First you said the measuring was taking too long, so you measured all the poles while I was at school. Fine. Then you said that the sawing was dangerous, so you went and sawed everythang for me even after I told you I wanted to do it, and hid it in mah room. Now you won’t let me do the drilling either?”

“Well,” Applejack has to take a second to gather her breath, “maybe you shouldn’t be wasting time on yer toy when you should be helpin’ the farm! We’re in dire straits as it is with the Flim Flams!”

“Oh, I’m wasting time?” Apple Bloom seethes. She doesn’t throw the drill, per se, but she puts it down with enough force to make a clank. Then she stands up, little fists clenched. Applejack’s breath catches in her throat. She’s hardly ever seen her cheerful, happy-go-lucky sister like this.

“You’re wasting time, insistin’ on watching me like a hawk all the time! You’re always wanting to do everything yourself, and then when you’re too tired to do anymore, you get angry at us for trying to help?” Apple Bloom throws her arms wide open. “We’re a family! We want to help you! Why don’t you get it?”

“You don’t understand nothin’, Apple Bloom, yer just a child-”

"Well I don’t care! I just wanna build it mahself," Apple Bloom scoops up a few poles and the drill and storms into her room. “Just- you- just go away!”

And Applejack… Applejack struggles for words. So, like an idiot, she says the first thing that comes to mind: “Hearth's Warming is comin' up. If yer this disrespectful, Santa ain't gonna give you gifts this Hearth's Warming."

"Santa doesn't exist." The door slams.

“Why you-” Applejack’s about to say something, but a hollow, empty feeling permeates her. Because—as much as Apple Bloom’s little and doesn’t understand what she’s saying—she does confirm a lurking suspicion that Applejack’s had for a while now. That no one’s ever needed her. All this time she thought she was the strongest and most dependable one, but really, she’s the one who’s needed others to make her feel that way.

It’s a horrible feeling.

It's a moonless night out, and Applejack packs up the booth alone.

Clouds cover the entire sky, shrouding what would ordinarily be the stars. But that doesn't matter, since the most dazzling starscape wouldn't be able to enchant her heart right now.

…Huh. Ain’t that an awfully dramatic thought. Applejack feels kind of stupid thinking that—it’s not like she’s a character in a book, brooding over some forbidden love interest. When she was little, Applejack was a fan of romance novels, you know, to the point where she once begged Granny to let her move in with her bourgeoisie aunt and uncle in Manehattan just so she could feel like one of those princesses from her favourite childhood series. The interest was briefly rekindled at CHS, because hey, sometimes Rarity and Twilight have good recommendations, but it faded off once Applejack started getting busier and never quite found the time for them again. Life isn’t no fairytale, and Applejack sure as hell ain’t its protagonist.

Somehow, Applejack remembers she has deliveries to send. Then somehow, she finds herself in the driver's seat of her van. Habitually, she leaves her hat on the co-driver's seat, but before starting the ignition, she just kind of sits there. Doesn’t even turn on the music. It’s just her, the interior lights casting her reflection in the dulled windshield, and the silence.

Finally, the silence cracks—along with the seal of one of the bottles she's brought with her. Thanks to the poor sales, there's a lot of apple cider left over, and other stronger stuff that they’d brewed for the occasion. Rainbow Dash was right; it isn't as good as the kind straight from the barrel. Yet Applejack can’t bring it in herself to care at the moment, since it serves its purpose well either way.

It doesn’t take too long for the numb fuzziness to settle into her bones and her thoughts become too watery for her to make heads or tails of them. Only one thought sticks out, seemingly too stubborn to drown in the tide with the others.

Rainbow. Rainbow. Rainbow Dash. No matter what, she just can’t get her out of her head. As much as she routinely calls her varmint, rascal, devil, all as terms of affection of course, Applejack never once genuinely hated her. Applejack had thought she was ‘getting back’ at Rainbow, like this was another one of their childish challenges, but really, all she’d done was hurt Rainbow, who’d done nothing wrong to her. Rainbow had never even ignored her, not for a second. No, in fact she was the one who had looked out for Applejack this whole time, hadn’t she been?

God, Applejack was a gigantic ass. She should really apologise, at least.

Following that thought, she pulls out and flips open her phone.

ME: Sorry about ignoring you.

Before she can dwell too much on it, she’s typing something else. With a blip, the message appears on the screen.

ME: I’d like to dance with you

She stares at it for a beat. Then two. Two grey ticks appear beside the message, indicating that it has been delivered.

“Buck. Oh my god,” Applejack smacks her face as the realisation belatedly sets in. “What in tarnation am I doin’?”

In a panic, she grabs her phone up again, swipes a finger over the last message and hits ‘delete’. Just milliseconds before the message disappears from existence, though, she sees the two grey ticks flip blue, indicating the message has been read. She thinks for a second that it might be alcohol-induced delirium, but then above the chat, Rainbow Dash’s activity status reads: online.

Her heart thump-thump-thumping in her ears, Applejack’s hand squeezes so hard around the phone it could break in two. Every muscle in her body, every cell in her brain, is screaming at her to do something, anything, but she can do nothing but stare with wide eyes at the screen as Rainbow’s activity status stays online. No typing. Just online. Had she read the message? Could Applejack have been imagining things? Should she type another message? Would Rainbow reply?

What feels like an eternity passes. Then Rainbow’s activity status blips and turns offline again.

"Oh," Applejack says aloud. Her own voice bounces back to her in the confines of the van. She almost starts giggling hysterically as she turns her phone off and finally, fumbling all the way through, jams the key in the ignition and slams the pedal. "Alright."

~

~~~

~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

“Look at all of them,” Pa had said to her, pointing out over the fields. "Isn’t it marvelous."

She was teetering on her tippy-toes, her blonde braids swishing back and forth. At her heels, her puppy Winona yipped excitedly. “I can’t see over the fence, Pa!”

“Let me help you,” Pa squatted down. “One and two and- hup!” Applejack jumped onto Pa’s back, chubby arms and legs wrapping around him piggyback-style. “Heheheh.”

High up above, fluffy white clouds drifted through the sky in a gentle breeze as birds soared between them, nary a care in the world. The pasture rolled out in front of them like a soft green blanket, with grassy hills that undulated far into the blue horizon. Cattle of all shapes and sizes ambled about the meadow leisurely, muzzles nosing between the grassblades as they grazed.

“Whoaa… There we go!” Pa’s voice goes. “Easy on the fritters, girl, you’re gettin' real big.”

“Does that mean I get to help with the cattle?” Applejack’s large green eyes gleamed. “You said big girls help with the cattle!”

A deep, hearty chuckle sounded by her ear. Pa shifted her weight onto one arm, then with his free hand, poked her in the cheek. "Well, that’s what I brought you in here for. You would've known if you weren’t so darn busy stuffing your face at dinner."

“Paaaaaa. They were apple crumble cookies!” Giggling girlishly, Applejack let go of Pa’s shoulders and tried to jump off his back. She flailed as Pa lowered her to the ground.

"Be careful out there, sugarcube!" Ma called from the apple orchards, where she was picking apples with Big Mac. She was holding a basket full of fruit in her two hands, her fluffy ginger hair tied back in a low ponytail. The pronounced curve of her belly was just visible below her wrap dress. The smile on her face was as bright as the sun.

“Yes, Ma!” Applejack yelled as Pa unlatched the gate and led her in by hand. “Come along, Winona!”

The soft grass tickled her exposed shins as her boot-clad feet sank into the rich dirt below the pasture with every step. They treaded past clusters of wildflowers and patches of mimosa with their pink pompom-like flowers and dark leaves, which Applejack purposely brushed against so that the leaves would fold up like books. Winona skipped around in the grass, sniffing everything in sight.

At this moment, Pa tugged on her hand gently. Stumbling a little, Applejack glanced up questioningly at him before he steered her away from the rear end of a cow. From beside her, the cow mooed and lifted her head up, ears pricking as her tail flicked from side to side.

“Don’t walk up directly behind a cattle, or they might kick ya somethin' fierce,” Pa instructed. “Alright, now I’m gonna show you how to herd ‘em. Winona!” He pinched his fingers and whistled. Instantly, Winona perked up in their direction, wagging her tail furiously.

“I’ve trained her up some already lettin’ her watch the neighbours’ dog herd sheep, so all you gotta do is walk around and make sure she gets ‘em in the pen,” Pa explained. “Walk steady, Winona! That’s it. Good girl. Now go!”

Winona leapt ahead, bounding as fast she could on her four little legs. Meanwhile, Pa guided Applejack around the cow she had nearly run into before.

“Put yer hand on her side.”

Applejack held her hand up to it, barely brushing the cow’s fur.

“Don’t be scared, honey. Gently does it,” Pa’s warm hand covered hers and pushed it until her palm was flat on the cow’s side. She could feel the cow’s fur rise and fall against her skin. “So long as you stay within their line of sight, they won’t be taken by surprise. Now you just steer her right towards the pen. Always stand on the opposite side of where ya want to go. Once you get one going, the others will start followin’. That’s it.”

Led by Pa, Applejack walked in zigzags around the cows. Winona was loping around the herd, barking and nipping at the cows like a pro. Applejack giggled; Winona always was a smart dog. It wasn’t long before she let go of Pa’s hand and began jogging around the cattle too. Pa called after her,

“Scamp, slow down! Don’t go ahead of the leader, or behind the straggler. Be gentle, patient. Just enough ‘ta keep the cows goin’. Dun spook ‘em or they’ll scatter.”

Soon enough, the cattle were all huddled together, trotting one after the other as their heads bobbed. Cows stuck close to their calves and mooed, their eyes attentive. The way they moved in unison, brown and black and white all melding together, was like frothing waves in an ocean. They continued until they were gathered in the pen, and Pa closed the gate behind the last of them, like a tide ebbing away.

It was beautiful.

“Look, Pa, I did it! I did it!” she jumped and pointed.

“Of course you did,” Pa swooped her up in his arms and kissed her on the forehead, beaming at her proudly.

~*~*~*~

When she was eleven, Pa and Ma died. It happened out of nowhere, on a day where nothing was happening. The explanation was an accident, plain and simple: the season was dry, something caught aflame, Pa and Ma were both in the barn, and then Granny was wrapping her in her arms, telling Applejack they were gone.

Applejack became meticulous. This was even more so after she took over the farm; Granny and Apple Bloom were out of the question due to their age, and the normally withdrawn Big Mac had become entirely non-communicative after Pa and Ma’s deaths, so the responsibility fell on her shoulders alone. And so she made sure to scrutinise every last detail of the farm’s running. Fire safety systems in case of fire, a more diverse crop system in case of drought, the like. All that she could control, she controlled; and all that she couldn’t, she tried her darndest to control. It was the way to make sure nothing like that happened ever again.

When Rainbow Dash came into her life, it rocked that boat mighty fierce. Rainbow was not like her. She was wild, reckless, chaotic. The average teenage city girl had average responsibilities, such as homework and exams. Rainbow looked like she had none. Like she was leaping through life, chasing whatever those rose eyes landed on. Applejack couldn’t imagine living like that, but maybe a part of her envied that free spirit of hers. Maybe some small part of Applejack wanted to go on a little adventure of her own, to run after the sky and see all that the world had to offer her.

It was why she’d come to Canterlot, after all. Even when it would most certainly be harder on her. Even when she would be away from the farm for longer than what was necessary.

Rainbow gave her that. Dragged her this way and that, stupid challenges, dumb jokes, roughhousing like they were kids in elementary rather than high school. It was like a sparkling comet had arced across her world and exploded it into colour again. As different as they had seemed initially, they were really similar after all. Applejack couldn’t have asked for a better best friend.

So when had Applejack begun to love Rainbow Dash as more than that?

It must have been a boring, dull moment. Far from the flower fields and hot air balloons and balconies of storybooks. Maybe it had been one of those lazy summer afternoons, mashing digital planes on an electronic screen, sweaty T-shirts sticking to the couch and feet on cold tile, when Applejack caught herself staring at the other a little too long. Or in second year, when her rival and friend in the first year race pulled out the chair next to her desk and triumphantly announced that she was going to be her classmate for the semesters to come. Or earlier still: when Applejack held out her spit-stained hand to her, and she’d understood it for what it was.

Did it matter? Does it matter when Applejack realised Rainbow had become so intertwined in the carefully-woven strands of her life, that her leaving would be like ripping out a piece of her soul too?

It’s ironic, isn’t it. Applejack, herself, was never going to stay in Canterlot either. Once they graduate, it’s over. They’ll go their separate ways, she goes to Cloudsdale, Applejack goes home, like nothing had ever happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~

~~~

~

Applejack opens her eyes and doesn't know where she is.

The ceiling above her is made of wood, painted a murky pink shade. A single lamp dangles above her head, switched off.

Applejack sits up on the small single bed she’d found herself in.

She's in what seems to be an attic; the roof is slanted and the room is generally cramped, stacked full of dusty cardboard boxes in every corner. Applejack glances aside and sees a vanity with a mirror. Her hair is a mess and her eyes look bloodshot. She's in a plain T-shirt and baggy trousers that are too big and don't belong to her.

What in the world happened?

Rubbing her eyes, Applejack tries to remember what happened last night. She had been at the farm, packing up after the event. And then... she'd been on her way to deliver something, right?

Her memory feels so cloudy it escapes her every mental grasp. She needs air, she surmises. Standing up, she walks toward the other end of the room where a small glass window is closed.

"It's okay," she mumbles to herself. "So I think I got drunk... an' maybe I passed out at the wheel. Some neighbour picked me up and took me in. I'm at Berry's, or somethin'. I'll just have to thank her for the hospitality, apologise to her for the trouble, and then make my way right back--"

She opens the window.

Firstly, what hits her is not winter wind. It's scorching hot, and incredibly dry; Applejack pulls away, coughing from what seems to be dust in the air. Then, she forces her groggy eyes open and peeps outside. And her heart nearly stops beating.

Looking out, she sees endless dunes of sand stretching as far as the eye can see. It may as well have been a desert. Clumps of tumbleweed roll across the dunes where cacti are growing sparsely like in old-time movies. A blazing afternoon sun hangs high in the sky. She recognises absolutely nothing.

It’s then when the sunlight sends a piercing migraine shooting through her skull, her hangover finally catching up to her. Clutching her head, she groans and sinks to the floor on her knees. She's been kidnapped for real, this time. She's been brought across states. Hell, maybe she's on a whole ‘nother continent now. It's all over.

That's when the door opens.

"Girl? Are you up?" Applejack cranes her neck to see a middle-aged woman in the doorway. She has thick curly maroon hair, fastened in a ponytail by a cherry-patterned gold headband. After looking about for a while, the woman seems to spot her curled up on the floor by the window. "Oh, dear me. Are you alright?"

"No," Applejack grits out too softly for anyone to hear.

"What was that?" the woman hurries over and squats down beside her. She speaks in a foreign-sounding accent. There’s a glass of water in her hand that Applejack hadn’t noticed earlier. “Drink this water, you’ll feel better. Don’t worry, you’re not in any danger.”

Like I’m gonna believe some random stranger. Dimly, Applejack knows it’s unwise to accept drinks from strangers but hey, she’s stuck across the world now, how much worse can it get? So she reaches for the ice-cold glass—doesn’t drop it, despite her shaking fingers, thank the lord—and quenches her parched throat. Her head does feel clearer. Just a little.

“So, my name is Cherry Jubilee, and I’m the boss here at Cherry Hill Ranch, where you’re now at,” the woman was explaining once Applejack could concentrate on her words. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Applejack,” Applejack gets out. Her mouth feels like it’s full of wool.

“Wonderful. Can you remember what happened?”

“No.”

Jubilee purses her glossed lips. “Well, how about you get a shower first, and then I’ll explain to you what happened.”

Jubilee tries to get her to eat breakfast. There’s some corned beef and beans from a can, fried bacon and eggs on a plate (“I heard greasy food is good for hangovers—not that I drink, of course,” she’d said), and a cup of black coffee. Applejack downs the coffee immediately. Applejack also eats some of the food, even though she feels too queasy to have any appetite, because she figures this stranger must have prepared it all by herself. She’s neither seen nor heard anyone else in the house, and there’s only two plates on the table, hers and Applejack’s.

Applejack asks her about it, half out of curiosity and half out of courtesy. Cherry Jubilee looks up from where she’s brewing her own cup on the kitchen counter and sniffs.

"My ungrateful son moved out of Dodge Junction years back. Took his idiot father with him too. I’d say good riddance, but it's just me and whatever hired help I can get, keeping this here ranch afloat. No one wants to work on farms anymore."

"Dodge Junction…” Applejack echoes. “So that’s where I am?"

"Uh-huh. Where are you from, dear?"

"Ponyville. Lil' village south of Canterlot."

"Can't say I've heard of that village, I'm afraid."

"Didn’t expect you to," Applejack says, nursing a chunk of bacon on her cottony tongue. "So, is there any way back?"

"Well, you’re in eastern Appleloosa at the moment. It's a while from the nearest train station. Why not I show you around, after breakfast?”

They finish up. Applejack washes the dishes for her, it’s the least she can do. Then they head for the door. Jubilee tells her her clothes are in the wash and that she’ll give them back to her when they’re clean.

“And your boots are right here-” Jubilee bends over and takes her work galoshes out from a shoe cupboard by the door, handing them to her.

“Where’s my hat?” Applejack questions.

“Your hat?” Jubilee ponders, blinking. “I don’t remember you wearing a hat… Oh! Was it a brown Stetson? I think I saw it beside you in your van.”

“Oh,” Applejack pulls on her boots. “Let’s go see it then.”

A flicker of something that Applejack can't quite place crosses Jubilee's face. But the woman nods, pulling on boots of her own. She unlatches the door and Applejack follows her outside.

The weather is searing, much like the wind she’d felt earlier. She immediately feels like she’s going to break out in drenching sweat. They do indeed look to be on a ranch, instead of the alien abduction facility she's been imagining this whole time (what? It was a possibility!). A winding sand path cuts through the thin grass field surrounding the farmhouse, leading to an orchard of cherry trees in full pink bloom, the red of the first cherries peeking out through the brush. Beyond the ranch, the peaks of a tall rock mountain scrape the fiery sky. Jubilee, walking ahead of her, doesn’t take the main path, but a side path that diverges from it and leads around the house. Applejack's crunching footsteps follow hers.

“So… what happened?” Applejack finally braves to ask.

Jubilee thinks. “It was last night; well, this morning, I suppose, at three… or was it four?... Never mind that. Anyway, I was sleeping soundly when a loud crash woke me up in the wee hours of the morning.”

“I went down and found your van at the mill, gone off-course from the road. You were passed out at the wheel with a bottle in your hands. The engine was leaking and there were sparks- You’re lucky I found you when I did.”

“Sparks? Engine? Wait," Applejack puts a hand up. "The van. Was the van okay?"

Jubilee's silence is her answer.

"No,” Applejack gasps. “No, no, no, not the van—” She stops short as they round the corner. There's a flour mill here, standing tall and towering above the farmhouse, the vanes creaking in the barest hint of desert wind. Against the side, there is the van. Or what remains of the van.

Suddenly she's eleven again, being told the news, almost able to imagine the scene. The fire. The smothering, smothering smoke.

Ignoring Jubilee's shouts not to, Applejack runs up to the van. The van lies at the end of a trench of dirt and rocks likely dug up as the van veered off the road and went down the short hill. The van had swerved in its trajectory so both the passenger side of the bumper and left side of the van were smashed into the side of the mill. The windscreen is intact, hence why it left Applejack unscathed, but the bonnet was less fortunate. The engine is visible from the hole in the bonnet where the metal had crushed up, leaking a river of diesel like Jubilee had described.

Applejack runs her fingers on the driver side of the van, where the white paint is charred on top of peeling. The old engine of the van had caused a fire upon collision. Not an explosion, but bad enough to cause serious fire damage to the van.

I never even got to take Rainbow for a ride in it.

She runs to the other side pressed against the wall of the mill and slams her shoulder into it. “Rnnngh-agh!” With all her strength, she pushes the van until its sagging tyres drag through the dirt, revealing the other side of the van.

The once red SWEET APPLE ACRES is now blackened so much she can barely make out the words. She kind of chokes up. She still remembers her father painting the words with her on his shoulders. How the Apple family had never touched up the fading paint, one of their ways of remembering him. Now it’s gone because of her.

Running back around, heaving, she wrenches open the driver’s door and sees her hat in there, on the co-driver seat where she always leaves it. Tallulah, her father’s hat. By some miracle, it’s sooty, but still in one piece. She grabs it and puts it on her head. Breathe, Applejack, she can almost hear him saying to her. She does, gulping lungful after lungful of air.

Then, she whirls around to face Jubilee.

"How much to repair it?"

"Applejack, get back, it's not safe. I don’t think the van can be salvaged easily-"

"I said, how much to repair it??!" Applejack raises her voice. Jubilee doubles back, stunned. Applejack steps toward her and continues, unrelenting. "You said you needed more farmhands. I’ve worked on a farm for the better half of a decade. Apples, cherries, same difference. I'll work for ya until I can pay off the repairs. I'll fix the damaged part of yer mill too." Meeting her eyes, she softens her voice. "Please. Let me work here. I can't go back like this."

Jubilee’s face doesn’t soften, but something in her expression cracks. She’s desperate, Applejack can tell. They both are, really.

"Very well,” she says. “You may work at Cherry Hill Ranch until you see it fit to return."

6- Cherryjack

The next day, Jubilee takes her to Dodge Junction. It's about an hour's journey by Jubilee's desert jeep, which is a small grey vehicle with two front seats and three fairly cramped ones in the back. The boot, stacked full with crates and boxes and random equipment, rattles with every bump in the road they go over, making an awful jangling noise each time.

Applejack sits in the front. Her legs are squeezed on all sides, on her left the gear stick, on her right a bundle of pipes leaning against the jeep door, and more boxes jammed into the compartment below the window shelf. Jubilee's behind the wheel, bopping her head to the weird-sounding music issuing from the radio speakers. It's rather…atypical music taste for a lady her age in the country, but hey—her car, her rules.

"Ya know, Ms Jubilee, I could drive too," Applejack says absently, twirling her hat about in her hands. "There’s no way to get lost on a straight road. You didn't haf’ta specially take me there."

Jubilee's expression stays neutral, but her tone is drier than the Appleloosian air rolling past them when she drawls, "I'm sure you can. But between you and me, I think you should take some time away from driving for a bit, don't you think?"

"...Right."

Jubilee hums, with a light chuckle to herself. "Besides, I wouldn't want you running off to goddess knows where with my jeep!"

"I wouldn’t do that. I got no reason to," Applejack argues, more to herself than to anyone else. Slumping into the seat, she gazes out the side window for the hundredth time, finding there just the same stretching miles of open road and sand that had occupied the landscape for the past hour. Cherry Hill Ranch really is out of the way; there hasn't even been so much as lights most of the journey. It must be easy to get into accidents here, without a living soul who could help her out. Then Applejack starts to wonder how she had even made it to the ranch, while blackout drunk, no less. She really was incredibly lucky to have made it out with nothing more than a day of headaches.

(It makes Applejack think, briefly, about how she could have actually kicked the bucket back there. How long would it have taken for her friends and family to find out, if they ever did? And how would they have felt, especially when she’d left them on a note like that?

And then she tries not to think about it.)

Eventually, the landscape does change. Gas stations and lightposts start popping up by the road, and then short colour-faded buildings crawl into view on both sides of the road.

Jubilee turns the vehicle into a street and parks it on the side of the road. She opens the door, and Applejack too steps out onto the sandy ground. "Well, Applejack, welcome to town."

~~

Dodge Junction is a small town, but it’s lively. The town centre is a four-way junction, each road flanked by the buildings, none of them more than two stories tall. Appleloosian folk stroll about the streets in wide-brimmed hats and shawls that shield their skin from the fierce rays of the sun beating down on them. Some of them nod in greeting at Applejack and Jubilee as they enter the town.

"The train station's over there," Jubilee points.

Cursorily, Applejack glances over to see the building in question: a one-storey, one-platform station with a slanted roof. She shakes her head. Pursing her lips, Jubilee nods and waves her off, heading the other way.

"Where are you gonna go?" Applejack calls out after her.

"To scout more farmhands," Jubilee responds, the back view of her cherry-red locks already retreating into the distance.

“Alright…” Applejack says, herself turning around. “Meet you back here in an hour, I guess.”

Her first stop is the post office. Applejack has her phone with her—it had been in her pocket during the incident—but obviously, there’s no reception out here, so good old snail mail will have to do.

The first letter she writes is to the company the delivery had been meant for. In it, she apologises for the failed delivery and promises compensation as per standard protocol, though she isn’t that sure how she can get the compensation to the company. …That’s a problem for another time.

The second letter is for home.

She’s probably been nothing but a disappointment to her family and everyone lately, so she feels like an explanation is the least she can do. She keeps it short:

Dear Family and Friends:

Not coming back to Ponyville.

It seems a little blunt. She adds another line to make it better:

Will send money soon.

There. She seals the envelope, writes her name, and Ponyville’s mailbox address on it. When she passes it to the guy at the post office, he stares at her for a moment and raises his eyebrow.

"That all? Postal around here ain’t cheap, yaknow. You aren’t writin' any more?"

"I ain’t here to chit chat. Do yer job, and send the letter." Applejack states and slides the pen over. She gets the fee from her new allowance. "I gotta go do mine."

"Uh, well," he says, stamping it and dutifully filing away the letter. "Have a good day, missy!"

Next, she heads for the mechanic’s planning to ask about a price for repairing the van, or, if it comes down to it, prices for the parts so she can repair it herself. But first she slows down by a board outside the mayor’s office displaying a map of Dodge Junction and its surroundings, figuring that it’s probably best to orient herself a little while she’s here.

Dodge Junction appears to be located in the eastern part of Appleloosa. Canterlot is up northwest, while Applejack knows Ponyville lies somewhere south of Canterlot, in between the two. A forest separates Appleloosa and the northern states, which Applejack assumes she’d cut through before crashing into Cherry Hill Ranch which was not far from the forest. That answers her earlier confusion.

So technically, she could drive back through said forest, but now that her van is… temporarily out of commission, the only other way back is, indeed, taking a train that goes around the entire forest—back all the way west across Appleloosa and then north towards Canterlot.

Not that it matters, since she’s not going back without the van. So on she marches toward the mechanic’s.

As it turns out, working on a farm is one thing. Working on a farm, answering to someone other than herself, is another.

In a barn, Applejack runs on a treadmill that powers a conveyor belt. Churning on the belt are all the cherries from the harvest, a jiggling mass of reds and yellows that gleam from their uncut stems. All two of Jubilee's cherry sorters stand by the belt, sorting the cherries into various bins. Sweet cherries, sour cherries, the like.

Usually, there are more helpers. Jubilee’s almost constantly going out to town to scout helpers, after all. However, the ones recruited don’t stay for very long (unsurprising: inaccessibility of the ranch, combined with the relatively low pay Jubilee offers, isn’t a huge draw for helpers). The only regulars are a pair of friends: Snips, a chubby kid with ratty ginger hair and a loud mouth, and Snails, who stands taller and skinnier, so slow and slothlike in his movements one might think he would fall asleep at any given moment. They’re also the ones sorting the cherries now.

"Keep at it, Applejack," Jubilee sings from the upper storey while Applejack keeps cycling her legs on the treadmill.

A treadmill. Did she mention she was running on a treadmill?

Applejack grunts. Jubilee merely holds up a mirror and touches up her cherry-pink eyeshadow, no doubt preparing for her next farmhand-scouting session in town.

"You know you can and should set up a website for that," Applejack mutters under her breath. She throws her head up and hollers, "Y’all just do this manually? Ain't y’all ever gotten an upgrade to yer systems round here??!"

"Cousin, this is Dodge," Snips says. "We don’t got no big city tech."

"Well, neither does Ponyville, but at least this kinda thang was automated," Applejack shoots back.

"Does this look like Ponyville to you, Apple Jill?"

"It's Jack," Applejack grumbles, though no one hears it.

"We're doing just fine without it!" Snails chimes in, eyes scanning the cherries on the conveyor belt keenly. Deftly, his hands dart out and sweep the cherries into each bin like a frog's tongue catching flies.

"Yeah, easy for you to say. I'm doin' the hard work around here," Applejack rolls her eyes, panting.

"Oh, can it. It's not like you can tell apart the cherry types." Snips holds up a cherry to his ear and wrinkles his pudgy nose. "Hmm… nope." He tosses it into the bin behind him without looking.

"Less squabbling with the boys, and more running, Apple!" Jubilee points her lipstick tube at her from above-deck. "You don't want to be fired on your first week."

"... Yes, ma'am," Applejack grits out.

Days pass. It’s a short time, but Applejack’s slowly getting the hang of the work. It is still a farm after all, just with cherries and also at the edge of a desert. But many things are different, as she comes to realise.

Today she stands atop a stepladder, picking cherries from a patch of trees.

The cherry Applejack’s just pulled from its branch is a shiny red. Plump, yet light between her fingers. If she put in just a little more pressure, the delicate skin would burst apart and shower her hands in vibrant juice—as she’d learnt when she was just starting cherry-picking, having taken for granted the firmness of the apples she was so used to harvesting.

In comparison to the dusty, brownish hues of most vegetation in the desert, it’s incredibly…fresh-lookin’. Applejack’s no expert in cherries, but she does have common sense. This scenery in front of her—a blossoming sea of pink trees—belongs in cold, even snow-covered mountains. Even if their ranch is situated closer to the forest, in the scorching, arid dunes of the desert, cherries fit in as much as trees fit in the ocean.

Carefully, she places the fruit on the glistening heap in the basket hooped around her arm. “Honestly? I didn’t know you could grow cherries in the desert,” she voices, no longer able to contain her curiosity.

At the sound, Jubilee turns. She isn’t picking cherries, but she’s transferring the filled baskets that Applejack passes to her from the stepladder into the back of a wagon, stacking them up into orderly piles.

“It’s a rare sight, isn’t it?” the ranch owner murmurs. A wry, but almost fond smile makes its way onto her face. “People always told me that it was going to be impossible, but I did it anyway.”

“Wait,” Applejack raises an eyebrow. “You started this farm on yer lonesome?”

“Why, yes,” Jubilee says. “How did you think I got it?”

Applejack bites her lip. “Well, I thought ya inherited it from yer family.”

“Oh!” Cherry Jubilee chuckles. “Oh. No, honey. The rest of my family’s in Manehattan, and the last thing they would do is run a farm. This may be a surprise to hear, but I actually lived in a very wealthy, an upper-class-kind of household—that is, until I moved out to start this cherry farm.”

“Uh, it’s certainly. Somethin’ I don’t hear of, often.” That explains Jubilee’s accent, dressing and general demeanour, but still, it doesn’t click at all. People move from the farm to the city. Moving from the city out into the middle of nowhere to start a farm? Who in their right mind would do such a thing?

Something in Applejack’s expression must have given away her true thoughts, because Jubilee answers them, face growing wistful. “I know it must sound ridiculous, but I hated that lifestyle badly enough that I wanted to do something completely different, something far-removed from everything else. So I decided to grow cherries in the desert. My parents didn’t approve of it, of course, but they let me do what I want.”

“So as a young lady, with a sum of money on hand, I brought my son and husband to Dodge to start the farm together. Too bad,” Jubilee’s tone grows slightly resentful, “when my son grew up he didn’t want to keep running it, and rathered return to Manehattan to take over my family’s business instead. His father agreed with him.”

"Do you ever regret it?" The question flies out of Applejack before she can stop to consider if it would be offensive. But well- she has to know.

“It does get a little lonely at times,” Jubilee admits.

“Huh,” Applejack says. “But, don’t you still keep in contact with yer family?”

“...” Jubilee pauses for a moment. “The last time I talked to them was when they left.”

“Wait. Seriously?” Applejack says, surprised. "How long has it been?"

"Years?" She chuckles without mirth. “We did get into a fight that day. That was when they left.”

“Oh.”

"Mhm," Jubilee sighs. "I don’t talk much to my parents in Manehattan, either. At this point, so much time has passed that it would be strange to contact them again. So I just didn't."

Applejack frowns. “Hey…I mean, but you said it's been years. Even if y’all are doin’ different things now, they’re still yer family.”

Jubilee regards her for a long moment, then says, “I suppose you inherited your farm from your family, then.”

“Well, it’s not really, my, farm, more of the family’s farm. Passing down yer farm through the generations—it’s how things are done in Ponyville, which is why I assumed so before.” Applejack says.

“But you’re so young,” Jubilee says, “Do all people inherit farms at your age?”

“Ah,” Applejack smiles thinly. “Not all. My parents passed away at a young age, y’see, so I took over operations earlier than most.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Cherry Jubilee says sincerely.

“Yeah, that’s why,” Applejack sighs. “If it were down to me, I would… I mean, I just really think you should cherish your family while they’re around.”

A prolonged moment of quietness. It seems that even Cherry Jubilee doesn't have anything to say to that. Applejack resumes picking the tree in front of her clean. Slipping the hoop from her arm, she bends down to hand her the filled basket. She climbs down the ladder and stands beside Jubilee, who's staring down at the last basket of ripe cherries in her hands.

“To answer your question from before…" she starts. "No, I don’t regret it. It was my dream back then, and it’s still my dream now. It is a beautiful one, isn’t it?”

Applejack looks out over the fluttering branches of the cherry trees. “I think so too.”

Applejack is stepping back to get a good gander at her work when she hears a soft gasp behind her. Turning around, she sees Jubilee approaching the flour mill.

“You fixed it!” she marvels, eyes wide in atonishment as she stands before the mill’s wall. Where a van-sized dent had been a few days prior is now a restored solid wall, the patch of drying paint the only evidence it had been there. As for the van itself, it had been towed to near the garage while Applejack worked on it (not in the garage, as it was very much still at risk of exploding and damaging more property, much as she hated to admit it).

“I said I would,” Applejack reminds. It hadn’t been that hard, really—she’d just shaved around the dent in the wall, filled in the neatened hole with drywall and plaster, then waited for it to set. The charred parts had been even easier: those just needed a good scrub-down and a lick of fresh paint. But she can't help the swell of pride that rises inside her anyway, seeing how impressed Jubilee looks.

“Still, I didn’t expect it to be so fast,” Jubilee says. “And you did it all by yourself?”

“Yeah. It’s not that big a deal though,” she adds, squatting down to clean the paintbrush. She jerks her thumb toward the door. “I had a look inside and the inner wall wasn’t affected, so I only really had to fix the outside part here.”

“And this is?...” Jubilee walks towards and picks up a sketchpad lying face-up on the ground, its green-gridded pages flipping in the barest breeze. “Oh, is this that notebook you asked me if you could use?”

“Ah,” Applejack feels a blush rising to her cheeks. Applejack had found that sketchpad while cleaning up the attic and asked Jubilee for permission to use it. It had been blank when she first found it; now she brought it around with her whenever she felt like writing something down. “That’s… I was just sketchin’ out plans for some of the systems I saw around the ranch.”

“What kind of systems?”

“This and that,” Applejack thinks. “Like the processors in this here mill, and I did something about the irrigation too. I saw plenty of outdated tech around the ranch, so I was thinkin’ of ways to improve them. They’re just random ideas—I’m not sure if it’ll all work, obviously, and if we have the tools for them…”

Jubilee flips through the sketchpad. Her fingertips brush over the graphite strokes Applejack had jotted in its pages under the flickering glow of oil lamps, too many ideas buzzing about in her head to fall asleep. Finally, she comments.

“Well, some of this could use some changes for it to work, especially for cherries, but most of it looks really promising.” Gently, she closes the cover and looks back up at her, quiet amazement in her lime-green eyes. “This is really incredible, Applejack, I mean it. But- you know I didn’t ask you to do this, right? You didn’t have to.”

Applejack chuckles, rubbing her head. “Yeah, I know. Y’all did say you didn’t want ‘big city tech’. I…won’t build anything if you didn’t want me to.” She didn’t want to repeat her past mistakes. She wanted to try not to, at least. “I was just writing down my ideas for fun.”

“You seem to really enjoy it,” Jubilee observes.

“Huh. I guess,” Applejack considers. “Y’know, I get what it’s like to want to stick to tradition, but there’s no sense in locking yourself to one method of doing things just because it’s the way it’s always been done, especially if there are better ways out there of doing it.” She pauses, reflecting. “A good friend taught me that.”

“You have wise friends,” Jubilee remarks.

“Yeah…” Applejack takes the sketchpad back from Jubilee. She thumbs its pages, staring down at the enthusiastic scribbles and notes covering them. “Maybe I should listen to them more.”

Speak of the devil; it takes one week for them to arrive.

It happens when she's at Dodge with Jubilee. Sunday. There'd been a rodeo going on and Jubilee had taken her, Snips, and Snails to see it. Right now, the rodeo’s ended, but Jubilee’s still in the middle of chatting up one of the candidates and very, very unsubtly trying to recruit her to the ranch. Snips and Snails are batting at each other with their hands, arguing over something dumb.

“I don't know, an hour is kind of far away,” says the woman. Her name is Cucumber Pie, or Cauliflower Fry, or whatever. Applejack wasn’t paying attention.

“If it's too far, you can lodge at the ranch,” Jubilee persists, “just like this girl here! She's all the way from Ponyville. Right, Applejack?” She nudges her in the side.

"Uh, yeah, sure…" Applejack supplies.

"I've no idea where this Ponyville is, but I'll pass. I got family to take care of here," Casserole Rye declines gruffly. “If you up the pay, though…”

Meanwhile, Applejack can feel Snails tugging on her coat. “Hey, tell Snips I burp louder than him.”

“No way!” Snips shakes his fist. “I can burp so loud that the Neighffel Tower falls down!”

“I can burp so loud the whole of Prance comes down!”

Cherry Jubilee clasps her palms together. “...I can’t increase the pay for now, but if you come help, we will absolutely make enough profit to give you a raise.”

“I thought you said you were rich,” Applejack whispers.

“Shh! Anyway, I spent it all on really expensive equipment and their maintenance when I first got here,” Jubilee hisses back. With a brilliant smile, she turns back to the woman. “So, if you’re ever so keen to work on the one and only cherry farm in this part of Appleloosa-”

Applejack’s going to ask just how much Jubilee had spent on “expensive equipment” when a flash of brightly-coloured hair darts in the corner of her eyes. That catches her attention because, well, she hadn’t expected there to be city people all the way out here. Squinting past the rodeo stands, she sees four? No, five girls. They’re hovering around the mayor’s office, big bags slung over their shoulders while talking. They have hair-dos that are dyed indigo, violet, light pink, hot pink, and one brown streaked with colours-

"Oh dagnabbit," she curses under her breath once the realisation dawns upon her.

"What?" one of the boys ask curiously.

"Uh!" Applejack jolts, fumbling for an excuse. In the distance, she sees Twilight Sparkle starting to turn around. She settles for socking her fist straight into her belly. A massive beeeelchrips out of her as she takes several tiptoes back. "Heheh, guess I had one too many, um, jalapenos at lunch, haha- seeyallinajiffy!"

“Land’s sakes,” she hears the boys mutter as she flees for the nearby outhouse. “We have a winner.”

~~

Applejack hides in the outhouse, camping on the toilet bowl for what feels like an eternity. She's fully intending to stay there for an actual eternity, but then a knock issues from the lumber door.

She keeps quiet, hoping they'll give up and find another one.

Then the person knocks again. And again. By the time the knocks turn into a frantic, successive stream hammering into the door, Applejack decides she doesn't want to deprive an innocent stranger of doing actual explosive business. She pulls up her trousers, washes her hands, and opens the door.

"Sorry about that-"

"BUCKING FINALLY!" she gets bellowed in the face the instant the door cracks open. The voice is suspiciously familiar. "Oh. Hi Applejack!"

In the space of one second, Pinkie Pie (visibly red in her puffed cheeks) does three things: waves, hugs Applejack's shoulders, then slams herself in the outhouse. That leaves Rarity, Twilight, Fluttershy and Rainbow, who were following behind her. When their gazes fall upon Applejack, their initially tense expressions dissolve into relieved smiles.

“Applejack!” Rarity exclaims. “So this is where you’ve been.”

Fluttershy envelops her in a hug. “We were so worried something had happened to you. Oh, we're so glad you’re okay.”

"What happened?" a raspy voice demands.

Applejack looks to Rainbow Dash, but she can’t quite bring herself to meet those rose eyes right now. The memory of those texts she'd sent Rainbow on the night of the incident burn raw in her mind; it takes everything in her to stop herself from bolting on the spot. "How did y'all find me?" she diverts instead.

"Your brother contacted us for help after you went missing. The letter you sent them had a return address on it, so we set out to find you," Twilight explained.

"Yeah, the letter. What's up with that?"

The past week of working on the cherry ranch, talking with Ms Jubilee and messing around with Snips and Snails served as an effective distraction from the events of before. But with the reappearance of her friends, Applejack feels the storm rising up in her again. Within her, defensive walls snap back up, keeping the water from spilling out. She can't let them know what had happened. What’s she gonna say, anyway? ‘Oh, yeah, I got so hung up over my life problems and my fat crush, who is one of you girls by the way, that I got myself piss-drunk and drove myself across states, then crashed my Pa’s van that I’m still not sure I can fix even after I’ve earned the money for parts?’ Yeah, no.

“Just what I wrote,” is what she says. “I found work here, so I’m not going back.”

The girls look between each other in apparent confusion. The tense expressions are back.

“What?...”

“Why?”

“But what about school? Finals?”

“None of that matters,” Applejack snaps. “Listen, I’ll be done in a few months. I can’t leave now.”

“You can tell us if something’s wrong, you know,” Rainbow says, ever infuriatingly.

“And I’m tellin’ ya that nothing’s wrong,” she retorts, already turning away. She starts walking back to where Jubilee and the boys had been. “Yeah, anyway, it was great talking to you guys, but I have to get back to work. Y’all can just head on home.”

“Excuse me, AJ,” Rainbow darts in front of her, cutting her off. She throws her arms apart, as if to block her path. “We didn’t go searching all over the country just to go home without you!”

“Well, I didn’t ask you to come looking for me,” Applejack shoves her aside, a little harder than she’d intended to. Briefly, she sees the flash of hurt in Rainbow’s eyes as she brushes past her. Applejack pretends to not have noticed, but she has to clench her fists to stop them from shaking.

She keeps on walking. She makes it back to where Jubilee is in the last desperate throes of begging Cashew Lime to grow cherries.

“Please, we really could use more helpers right now,” Jubilee’s saying.

“I ain’t interested, ma’am, let it go.”

“Hey there! Did you say you needed more helpers?” a cheerful voice interrupts.

Turning around, horror settling into her bones, Applejack finds Twilight Sparkle and the rest of the girls who had followed her here, broad grins on their faces.

“No. Nononono,” Applejack whispers, albeit uselessly, as Jubilee’s previously despair-clouded face brightens.

On the trip back, Applejack still sits in the front, with Jubilee still the one driving. But this time, the back seats hold her friends. The three seater is not large enough for four girls, but they manage to squeeze in anyway, and Applejack has to pretend Rainbow being practically half in Fluttershy's lap doesn't bother her. At all.

The whole trip, her friends pepper her with questions. What happened? What’s wrong? What happened?Luckily, Applejack manages to tactically avoid answering any of them by prompting Cherry Jubilee to talk about cherries. Soon the jeep is filled with just the awful music on the radio and Jubilee’s warbling dissertation on every possible way to bake a cherry. When they reach the ranch, Applejack slips into the attic and shuts herself in while Jubilee is briefing the other girls on their duties. No one bothers her for the rest of the day.

The next morning, Applejack walks into a breakfast table that drowns in stony silence the second she enters. Everyone, save Snips and Snails (who'd slept over last night), looks varying shades of uncomfortable.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Morning,” the girls mumble into their plates, five pairs of eyes fixed on her.

“Howdy doodle doo!” crows Snips, entirely unaffected by the situation. Snails steals a square of cheese from his plate while he isn’t looking. Striding past the unusually quiet girls, Applejack plops down in her own place between Cherry Jubilee and Pinkie Pie, reaching for the basket of bread. She wonders if she should be the first one to interrupt this quiet, since obviously this has something to do with her, or if she should delight in the fact that her friends have finally decided to give up on pestering her with questions and go back to Canterlot.

She doesn’t have to. Another voice breaks the silence.

“So,” Rainbow says conversationally, pouring juice into her glass. The jug sets down heavily on the table. “What’s this I hear about an accident.”

Applejack goes rigid.

“Have some tact, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity scolds. She turns to Applejack, concern written in her face. “What she means to say is, we heard you were in an accident.”

Applejack’s head snaps in the direction of Jubilee, who’s currently dividing a piece of toast. She tries not to growl, “You told them?”

Jubilee returns the gaze steadily. “There was no reason not to.”

“Are you alright?” Fluttershy pipes up.

“I said I was fine. See,” Applejack drops the butter roll in her grasp to her plate. The crumbs splinter on impact. She gestures to herself. “Alive and in one piece.”

"We don't mean just physically," Twilight says. "And why would you hide something like that from us?"

"I don't know what she told y'all," Applejack spits irritably, "but there ain't no problem with my noggin' neither, and mah business is my own."

"Ah, yeah," Rainbow folds her arms, "'cause the last time you said you had everything under control, you ended up in eastern Appleloosa with your van in a wall, so forgive us for worrying a little."

The table plunges into silence. Somehow this one is even worse than the first. Rarity has her entire head buried in her elbows. Even Snips and Snails aren’t chittering anymore, picking at their food solemnly. Muttering something about needing more coffee, Jubilee gets up and wanders into the kitchen.

With difficulty, Applejack swallows the bite of bread in her mouth. "And what are y'all even trying to do here? Don't y’all have school today?" she manages.

"The teachers allowed us to take leave," Twilight answers.

"Besides, you have school too!" Pinkie points out.

"That's different, Pinkie. I don't need school," Applejack says patiently. “I never needed school. Like, elementary school, sure, basic education is important an’ stuff. But not high school. I don’t even know why I went. I’m just going to work on the farm after I’m done. So what’s it matter if I work on a different farm for a bit?”

“That’s-” Pinkie says, but she falters. No one else speaks up, either. Clearly none of them know what it’s like. Applejack doesn’t expect them to know what it’s like. They’ve always been living in such a different world from her, such different lives. How can they possibly have anything to say that aren’t just shallow platitudes?

Applejack finds that she isn’t hungry anymore, not that she was that hungry to begin with. She finishes the rest of her bread roll, which tastes like cardboard by now, and stands up, the drag of the chair loud and echoing across the tiled floor.

"If y'all are plannin' to keep following and badgering me till I go back to Canterlot, don't bother. Until my Pa's van is fixed, I've made up my mind to stay here, so nothing any of you say or do is gonna change it," she says, before she leaves the room altogether. "End of conversation."

~~

A day not long after, Applejack does not go to breakfast.

She’s speeding down the open road toward Dodge Junction on the desert bike she’d found in Cherry Jubilee’s garage. The dawn has barely broken, the stars still visible in the lightening sky. Operating a two-wheel vehicle proves to be more challenging than the four-wheelers she usually handles, but she didn’t want to take Jubilee’s jeep with her this time.

She isn’t going to be able to return it, after all.

“Sorry, Ms Jubilee,” she mutters as she presses the bike on through the dry winds whipping past her, even though it's impossible that the recipient of the apology would ever hear it. There was no choice. Applejack couldn't tell her beforehand of her plan—she couldn't trust the older woman to keep mum about her accident, so she sure as hell can't trust her to hide this secret from her friends. Anyway, Jubilee goes to town often, so if she's lucky she'll find the bike before it gets stolen.

The reason for Applejack’s plan is simple. She can’t go home, but she also couldn’t have stayed at Cherry Hill Ranch. Her friends had been willing to throw down everything to find her, and even started volunteering, unpaid not to say the least, on the ranch just so they could drag answers from her. They probably would refuse to budge from the ranch until they got Applejack to go back to Ponyville and Canterlot High. And while Applejack’s fully committed to staying on the ranch, that wouldn’t do—how could she make them miss all their commitments back home? Twilight, missing classes? Rainbow, missing flight school?

It’s unthinkable. Applejack won’t allow it. So Applejack really only has one choice: to make them give up. She has to go somewhere else entirely, and this time, leave no address for them to go off of. She has enough cash on her to bide her time in another state. Maybe she can even crash at Aunt and Uncle Orange's. Then later, she'll come back to the ranch to continue her work with Ms Jubilee and the van. Solid plan.

With a squeeze of the brakes, Applejack pulls the desert bike into the spot where Jubilee always parked the jeep at Dodge Junction. She barely gives the bike time to skid to a stop before cutting the engine short and hopping off the seat, bag of hastily-packed belongings latched in hand. As she races on foot toward the train station that Jubilee had pointed to her on the first day, she shoves her other hand in her jacket pocket, making sure her ticket’s still tucked away there. Yep—everything is in place.

Almost everything. Though she’d left early enough to not worry about missing her train, any extra time spent dawdling around increases the risk of her being seen. Yes, she’d left the jeep at the ranch out of courtesy, but it’s also a means of transport by which Jubilee and her friends can use to catch up to her and apprehend her before she leaves. The chances of that happening now aren’t high, though. It would take them a whole hour to get here, while Applejack’s train departs in twenty minutes. If her friends aren’t here now, they’ll never be here in time.

She lets the ticket inspector check the ticket—tries not to tap her foot in impatience as he does so—then whizzes through the fare gates onto the platform. The train station is, of course, tiny compared to the subways of Canterlot. No escalators, none of that stuff, just a short building with the bare minimum: an entrance, a fare gate, and a single platform overlooking the railway tracks.

A large clock hangs on the brick wall, solid black arms pointing out the time on the chalk-white clockface. There’s still a while till the train arrives, so Applejack wanders toward a board tacked with maps of the train routes and surrounding areas, having half a mind to plan out the next half of her journey as thoroughly as she can.

She’s been perusing the board for some time when suddenly, a thunderous rooooooar fills the air, making her jump. It sounds vaguely like a giant engine, but nothing like that of a train’s. Commuters on the train platform look about for the source of the commotion, the chatter growing louder; Applejack does too, but much as she cranes her neck to see behind her at the station’s exits or at the desert beyond the train tracks, she can’t catch sight of whatever it was. After a while, nothing happens, so people stop looking and go back to their initial business.

Weird. Applejack remembers when Cherry Jubilee said there were other farms near Dodge Junction, so maybe it was some kind of harvester? It still seemed too loud for a harvester, though. Maybe a motorbike squad? Heart hammering in her chest, Applejack decides to look for a bench to sit so she can properly plan out the next part of her escapade. But then—

“Applejack!”

In the cacophony of the crowd, the voice is hardly audible, but to Applejack it might as well have been a gunshot. Freezing up, she barely manages to turn in the direction of the voice, unwilling to confirm its identity. But then, against all odds, she’s here—and sprinting full-speed towards Applejack.

“Applejack!” Rainbow Dash calls again. She’s still a distance away, lost in the thick of the crowd, but Applejack can still hear her loud and clear. “Where are you going?”

“Why-” Applejack grits out stiffly. “How are you here?”

“Uh-uh, you can’t answer a question with a question,” Rainbow might’ve been rolling her eyes, but Applejack couldn’t be certain from the distance. Before long, the girl’s reached the fare gates. But a ticket inspector steps in her way, holding a hand up and murmuring something to her.

Applejack watches as Rainbow deflates, and she reluctantly turns to join the queue in front of the train conductor booth. Applejack lets out a sigh of relief. She’s safe. Rainbow can’t make it past the fare gates without a platform ticket, and the queue in front of the booth is long. A glance up at the clock confirms that the train will be here any minute now. It doesn’t matter how Rainbow got here so quickly; she won’t be able to stop Applejack from boarding the train.

Rainbow keeps speaking to her, though. Or rather, yelling at her over the din of the crowd.

“So, wanna tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t. Yell about this in public!” Applejack shouts back, glancing nervously at the the annoyed stares being shot their way.

“Yeah well, you can’t tell me what to do!” Rainbow screams even louder, even flailing her hands wildly about. More commuters’ heads turn in their direction.

“Oh my goddesses,” Applejack slaps a hand over her face, irritation swelling up in her. Gnashing her teeth, she stalks toward the fare gates and positions herself on the other side of the fare gates, out of the way of the commuters passing through.

She leans against a pillar, glaring. “Okay, fine. Now say whatever you want to say.”

In response, the perpetrator folds her arms triumphantly. “Answer my question.” She gestures at the platform. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Applejack fibs. “Since y’all wanted me to so badly.”

“Ri-i-i-ght,” Rainbow drags out, eyebrows flat. “And why would you do that without bringing us along? Or telling anyone?”

Applejack says nothing.

Rainbow sighs and pushes her bangs back. She’s swaying, kind of, shifting her weight from one foot to another, looking like for several seconds that she’s trying to say something, deciding against it, then trying to say it again. Then, what she finally says is, “Look, people tell me that- and I know I’m, not great. With the whole words and emotions, ‘tact’ thing-”

“Get on with it.”

“...Yeah. I’ll get to the point,” Rainbow shuffles forward in the line. She looks at Applejack in the eye. Dully, Applejack notes that her eyes are not rose, but blue—she must not have had the time to put her contacts in while getting up to chase her down.

“I’m sick and tired of you dodging around.” Steel-blue eyes flash. “Dodging our questions, or dodging us. It’s obvious that there’s something wrong, but for some reason or another you’re just not talking to anyone about it! Heck, before your letter arrived, it was your brother who came down to Canterlot to ask the school where you were, then Principal Celestia asked us, because he had no clue where you were.”

“I had no clue where I was,” Applejack bites out, “And fat load of good telling people about my problems does. It’s not like it’s gonna make the problems disappear.”

“But we could’ve helped! Like with the Fall Formal, when we all offered to help your club, you were said it was fine, even though clearly you weren’t. We just didn’t say more because we wanted to respect you.”

“Respect?” Applejack barks out a bitter laugh. “Don’t fool yerself—wasn’t it just too hard to talk to someone like me?”

"No..." She can see Rainbow tonguing the inside of her cheek. “Well, AJ, you… just don’t make it easy. The thing is that sometimes you say you can handle it and yeah, you pull it off perfectly. But other times, you’re actually not okay, but I just can’t tell because you don’t show it until it’s too late. And it’s just… hard to figure out whether you want someone there or you just want to be left alone.”

Huh. Applejack doesn’t really know either. Both? Neither?

Then, out of nowhere, Rainbow says, “I’m sorry.”

“Wha-?”

“If that’s what it takes then I’ll say it. I’m sorry,” she repeats, her gaze fixed firmly to the floor. “Because it’s about me, isn’t it? That argument we had the day before. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.”

“Not everything’s about you, Rainbow Dash,” Applejack retorts, then grimaces at her word choice. “No, it’s- I mean, it’s not just about you. You didn’t do nothin’, so that’s plain ridiculous. If anything, it’s mostly me. I should be the one apologising. I’ll own my mistakes; you don’t have to do it for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Rainbow sighs. She hoists her chin back up. “You know, even if you were always stubborn, you used to be a whole lot more honest, at least. Now, you are... you just became so, closed-off, this year.”

“What would you know about that? You weren’t even there for most of it.”

“Hey, I fucking tried,” Rainbow’s face twists, scowling. “This again? You were the one who wouldn’t pick up my calls!”

“Only after I stopped calling you in the morning.”

“And you only started texting me first after I stopped texting you first! And I already told you a gajillion times that that was because I was busy with, I dunno, literally training to be a world-class pilot while being in high school!”

A beat.

Applejack pinches the bridge of her nose and breathes in deeply. Counts to ten. Lets it out. “...Goddess. This is so stupid. We sound like a jealous couple bickerin’ or something.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. “Uh. Wait-”

But then-

"Pfffft-"

Rainbow isn’t looking at her with the confusion or fear or disgust she’d imagined—she’s chuckling too, raspy giggles poorly hidden in the palm of her quivering hand. She looks up, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re right. We really just had to get that out of our systems, didn’t we.”

“Yeah,” Applejack agrees. Then, gathering herself, “I’m sorry too. Getting mad at you for reasons clearly out of your control is dumb, and I did say I was gonna own my mistakes.” Rainbow’s eyes glimmer with hopefulness. “...Still not changing my mind about leaving, by the way.”

Rainbow droops. As she inches along with the moving queue, she looks exactly like a kicked puppy. It’s almost enough to make Applejack want to give up, but not quite enough.

Next, she speaks quietly. “At the ranch, you said you didn’t know why you even went to CHS. That’s a lie too,” she raises her head. “You told me yourself the reason when we first met. Or did you forget?”

Applejack cocks her head. “How doyou remember? That was so long ago.”

“Because that time was important to me, alright,” Rainbow heaves. Her frame seems to shudder slightly; her fist opens, scrawny fingers stretching out, and squeezing back closed. “Back then, even when I had the whole school under my thumb, people liked me for my achievements, or my jokes and pranks, but no one liked me for me. I was really a jackass, after all. I didn’t have any real friends, except I guess Fluttershy, who I knew from kindergarten.

But you? You really saw me, and you weren’t afraid to tell me off when I deserved it. You cared about me for real. And as for you, people care about you too, Applejack. Your Granny, your brother and sister, the girls, me. You had even had so many other friends at school worried, like Bulk Biceps, Wizkid, your other club members, asking after you when you disappeared with almost no trace. Yet here you are about to run away again.”

She sucks in a breath. “Applejack, you were never alone. Not now, not ever. So maybe not everything’s about just you—but also everyone else who cares.”

“Great,” Applejack says thickly. She clenches her jaw. “Weren’t you also just sayin’ that I should do what I want with my life? What if what I wanna do with my life is stay on that ranch until I fix my Pa’s van?”

Rainbow arches her eyebrow. “Then I’d be seriously unconvinced.”

“Who are you to tell me what to think, huh?” Applejack backs away from the gates.

“Your friend!” Rainbow shouts, the fire back in her. “Before anything else!”

Applejack stops.

“And, listen. I know that van was important to you. But your Pa wouldn’t want you to bust your ass repairing a blown van,” Rainbow implores. “Your parents would want you to be happy. Van or not. Farm or not. Applejack, you can do whatever you want—what you really want to. Other people's choices are their own and so are yours, you don't owe it to anyone, I’m serious. If in the end, you still decide you want to leave, then I- I won’t-” her voice catches. "Won't st-"

Clang-clang!

It’s then, when the sounding of a large brass bell signals the arrival of the train at long last. Applejack watches Rainbow’s face fall as the train rumbles its way onto the tracks. Yet, the relief that she’d expected to wash over her didn’t come. She should be running to the doors before they can open, to be the first in line, but instead, she finds herself lingering by the pillar, watching as people file into a queue in front of the doors.

The doors slide open. The platform begins to empty out as commuters board the train. Applejack is still by the fare gates.

“...Please, AJ,” Rainbow begs. “Think through this.”

Applejack turns her back on Rainbow, so she doesn’t have to see that pleading gaze. She takes a resolute step toward the train. Two steps. Three. Four. She was already long set on her decision; nothing anyone said should have changed that. Not the words that echo in her head. Not the truths she has been avoiding this whole time. Applejack knows Rainbow would stop at nothing for her, and that's why she must leave, right?

You were never alone.

Not everything's about just you.

What do you really want?

But for as much as Applejack knows Rainbow Dash, she doesn’t know herself nearly as well.

That’s why—a step away from the train doors—she hesitates. Her eyes see where she needs to go, but her feet are wavering.

The doors begin to shut. Applejack’s still not moving.

And then she's being pulled away.

WHAM!

Dazed, Applejack finds herself on the ground. The fall doesn’t hurt as much as it should—a pair of arms are encircled around her mid-riff, cushioning the impact of going back-first into the wooden platform.

At some point, Rainbow must have passed through the fare gates. She must have obtained a ticket without Applejack noticing. And lying down in the middle of the train platform, even if it’s mostly empty now, is definitely causing a scene. But that’s not what Applejack’s mind is focusing on right now.

Tears, are streaming down Rainbow Dash’s face in a way that Applejack has only seen once— back when Rainbow thought her pet tortoise was dead. Tank had only been hibernating, but either Rainbow had not known tortoises hibernated, or the fact had slipped her mind in her panic. Noticing her prolonged absence from school, the five of them had searched for and found the silly girl cooped up in her room, bawling her eyes out as she blubbered to them what had happened.

Even after Rainbow learnt that her tortoise, though unmoving, was still alive, she hadn’t managed well without Tank. She wasn’t sleeping or eating much, seemed disinterested in most activities, and was prone to suddenly running off with no explanation, coming back with her eyes puffy. No one really knew how to deal with Rainbow Dash at that time. In fact, it was Twilight who urged Applejack to approach Rainbow about it first. That confused Applejack, who knew she was never good at handling emotions, and she proved herself right: in the end, Fluttershy was the one had to take over from her pathetic attempts at comforting words.

Even now, Applejack isn’t sure what to say as she watches Rainbow cry. Emotions, people, whatever, they were all always too complicated. So, silently, she does what she did back then: moves her hand to Rainbow’s back and pats it. Smooths down the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to her frame, as gently as she can.

“I’d miss you, y-you know,” Rainbow hiccups wetly as she continues clutching at her collar, head curled into her chest, “if you left.”

Applejack kind of feels like laughing when she hears that.

But she’s tired, too. So she lets Rainbow sob into her, while she closes her eyes and lets her head fall back onto the ground behind her with a sigh.

This time, though, she lets a tear roll down her cheek, too.

A loud honking draws her attention to a desert jeep rolling up into the street of Dodge Junction.

“Applejaaaaaack!” The window of the jeep rolls down, revealing a truly ferocious-looking Pinkie Pie, eyes alight with fury. It actually makes Applejack gulp in fear. “Quick, Dashie! Nab her!”

“It’s okay, Pinkie,” Rainbow assures her as she walks alongside Applejack, towing her along by the hand. “She’s not running away anymore.”

“She’d better not be,” Jubilee says darkly from within the jeep. “Just because I said you couldn’t run off with my jeep, doesn’t mean you can steal my bike, honey.”

Applejack shudders. “Ms Jubilee, you have my word. Yer desert bike is safe and sound at the carpark-”

“Not a word more, girl,” Jubilee eyes her. But she’s smiling, nevertheless. Applejack realises, a little, the real reason why she had left the jeep behind. Maybe deep down, a little part of her had wanted someone to stop her from leaving.

Now, Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie descend upon her in a smothering hug. Applejack’s arms stick out awkwardly from the middle of the human cloud, and she stutters as Pinkie smooshes her cheek against hers and rubs vigorously. Help, she mouths a silent cry in Rainbow’s direction, who’s standing to a side and doing absolutely nothing to rescue Applejack from her plight, mirth tracing her lips. When the hype dies down, another thought pops into Applejack’s mind.

“Wait a minute,” Applejack says. Slowly, she turns to Rainbow. Looks at the jeep. Looks at Rainbow again. “If you didn’t take the jeep here, then how did you get here?”

Rainbow’s mysterious smile only grows wider. Grabbing ahold of her hand again, she leads Applejack around the corner of a building.

“You—” Applejack sputters, jaw hanging agape as she takes in the sight. Bright yellow metal, two flat, parallel wings around the main body, glinting under the morning sun. “You flew?!?”

No wonder Rainbow had been so fast. There’s an entire cropduster parked in front of her.

It’s Rainbow Dash’s turn to grin at her, her eyes sparkling under the sunlight. “Well, have you ever wondered what it’s like to fly?”

“Are you sure this is safe,” Applejack asks for the fiftieth time—a perfectly reasonable number of times—as she clambers into the seat behind Rainbow Dash, who’s already strapped in and fiddling with the blinking control panel.

“Let’s hope we live long enough to find out,” Rainbow replies, sliding the walls of the cockpit shut around them. Applejack looks at her. Rainbow rolls her eyes and sighs, “Yes, it’s safe, I have a license to carry up to three passengers, and it’s valid for this type of aircraft, blablablah. Buckle up.”

Rainbow then makes Applejack put on a helmet, puts one on herself, and pulls a pair of shades over her eyes. She continues checking a bunch of stuff, and Applejack lets her while she shifts about in her seat in uncontained excitement, taking in the sights around the cockpit. Round meters with various numerical readings on the control panel, a lit-up display with what looks to be a GPS navigator, as well as the joystick.

“You never been on a plane before?” Rainbow says, amused.

“Nope. Never,” Applejack says. “Well, how many people can say they’ve been in the cockpit of one, anyway? This is, like, the inside of a car, but way more complicated.”

“Definitely more complicated,” Rainbow agrees as she flips some switches. “...Although I don’t know how to drive a car, so don’t take my word for it.”

“So you can’t drive a car yet, but you can drive a plane?”

“...Yeah.” Rainbow scrunches her nose. It’s so cute. Applejack has gone for far too long without getting to see Rainbow scrunch her nose like that. “When you put in that way, that actually feels really weird.”

Applejack laughs. “Well, that’s what you have me around for.”

“Oh, yeah. You so owe me a ride after this,” Rainbow says. She pauses. “After you get a new van, that is.”

“I dunno," Applejack cups her chin in thought, feeling a smirk stretch across her lips. "I was thinkin' of getting a Ferrari instead."

"No way," Rainbow whips her head around, eyes wide. Then they narrow. "...You're not serious."

Applejack guffaws, wiping at her eyes. "Ya should’ave seen the look on yer face. Anyway, when you become a Wonderbolt and rake in those big bucks, nothing’s stoppin’ ya from buying one for yerself."

"Meh," Rainbow sticks out her tongue. "I'd choose a pick-up van over a Ferrari any day, so long as it's yours."

Goodness gracious. Applejack tries not to just fall on one knee and propose right there, screw it. Instead, she tilts her burning cheeks away, staring out through the window at the sand and the road adjacent, along which Jubilee’s jeep has long departed with the other girls. In here, it’s only Applejack and Rainbow Dash.

Suddenly the entire cockpit starts rumbling. Applejack jolts up as Rainbow drives the plane along a dirt road, now acting as their makeshift runway. The propeller in the front is spinning into a blur, now; Rainbow thrusts the cropduster ahead with growing speed, and Applejack finds herself tensing the muscles in her body as the sounds of the whirring engine and propellers grow louder and louder around them.

The nose of the plane is the first to tip upwards. Next, the back wheels lift off the sand—Applejack can feel the moment they do, and her stomach lurches as they climb into the air at an incline. Gasping, she holds her breath in her throat as she glimpses the ground drop away under them, the buildings of Dodge Junction shrinking as they ascend further. Eventually, when Dodge Junction has become all but a cluster of dots below them, the plane begins to level out, and Rainbow sits back with a sigh, a hand resting on the controls.

“This is-” Applejack has to raise her voice to be heard over the constant thrumming of the plane’s motors. The sky, cloudless and blindingly blue, stretches out all around them. “Why, set a rooster aflame and call it a hot wing—this is so cool!”

Through the noise, she still hears Rainbow’s snort. “What the hell is any of that supposed to mean?”

“Shut up,” Applejack says, red-faced, though she’s snickering too. “I mean, land’s sakes. This is plum amazin’.”

“Right?” Rainbow grins. “I’ve always wanted to show you. But I hope you’re feeling fine. I’m not gonna do any stunts in this thing, but we're going to keep rocking around for quite a bit. Paper bag's in the compartment on your left, if you need it.”

Applejack's eyes sweep about and sure enough, find a brown paper bag stashed in the side. In her excitement she had forgotten about her usual motion sickness—which was the reason why she could never enjoy being on ships. But even now, fortunately, the sickness doesn't come.

“Nah, I’m good for now.” Applejack smirks. “Look at you, all responsible-like now.”

“Please, I can be a little responsible sometimes,” Rainbow blows a raspberry. “I just wanna look out for others too, alright.”

Smiling, Applejack nods. Then she sits up, “Now, real question. Where in tarnation did you get this cropduster from?”

“Oh, it was in Cherry Jubilee’s garage,” Rainbow says.

“Huh? I didn’t see no cropduster in the garage while I was gettin’ the bike.”

“She never uses it, apparently,” Rainbow says. “Just maintains it. Ms Jubilee was seething about losing her bike and then mentioned that her only other vehicles were the jeep and 'a cropduster that no one could fly'. Well, of course, she hadn't counted on there being a pilot in our search party.”

“I bet that’s what she spent her fortune on,” Applejack realises. “Cropdusters ain’t cheap. I’ve never seen one for myself in all my years of farmin’.”

“Lucky for you, then,” Rainbow quips. “Or me? Or-”

“-Us,” Applejack amends.

The plane continues to move across the sky. Applejack can feel every roll and dip below her, the plane so small that every slightest movement shifted her with it. It's like being in a tiny bubble, suspended above the world, untethered by any weight, with only a thin wall separating her and thousands of feet of air.

It should be scary. Yet, Applejack feels no fear. She trusts the girl behind that joystick with her life.

“Could you do stunts in a cropduster?” she braves to ask.

Rainbow shrugs. “It’s a plane, so technically, yeah. Do you want me to?”

“As long as you don’t, well, crash us to our untimely demise.”

“Hey, I didn’t get qualified to mess around in planes just to not mess around in them,” she laughs. “Let’s start easy. Here we goooooooo!”

The plane begins to tilt upwards again, like it did when they took off. But this time it just keeps tilting up, and up, and up until they’re basically shooting vertically towards the sky. Applejack’s heart is up in her throat, and she can feel her blood rushing in her ears as the sky slants around them at angles she never imagined possible, no clouds to mark where they are, only the forces of gravity turning her insides about.

Meanwhile, in front of her, Rainbow’s grin is reflected in the glinting windshield, sunbeams skittering upon the face in the glass. Her hair sweeps upward as the plane goes into what Applejack judges to be entirely upside-down, tangling with her bangs, and the coloured streaks are racing in and out through her chestnut hair like thick slivers of trout in a river.

“Yeaaahahahahaa!” her cackles bounce off the walls of the windless cockpit they’re encased within. Before long, the plane is upright again, having completed its loop. Raising a hand to lift her sunglasses to her forehead, Rainbow turns her head back. “How was it? How’d you feel?”

Applejack catches her breath. “Like my face was about to drop clean off.”

“Think you can handle another round?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The girl laughs. Applejack’s rapid pulse doesn’t settle. Her shining eyes are sharp, cerulean as the cloudless sky they flew in. Rainbow really is beautiful in any way. It’s then when Applejack realises she still loves and will probably continue to love Rainbow Dash, no matter how different her future may turn out to be.

“You staring at me?”

“Eyes on the road, lass,” Applejack says, feeling her face grow hot as she notices Rainbow smirking at her. Then she stops herself when she hears Rainbow giggle. “Erm… eyes on the sky?”

The steady whirring of the propellers about them is a calming, grounding sound. Up alone above the world, just the two of them… Applejack feels strangely free. In this quiet, Rainbow stirs.

“For the record, I’m glad you’re back,” she says.

“Yeah,” Applejack murmurs, soft. “I am too.”

7- What We Live For

Morning comes in the glare of the Appleloosian sun—already harsh this early in the day—slanting through the crusty window of the attic and catching within the dust shimmering in the air. With no chirping birds or the busy buzz of bees, there's a peaceful quiet in the stale air, only occasionally disturbed by the squeaking floorboards as Applejack places items down on them.

“So you’re leaving?”

Applejack looks up to see Cherry Jubilee ducking her head into the attic, bushy red locks brushing against the doorframe.

“Ayup,” she answers, sitting up straighter on the bed. “I’m goin’ home.”

Jubilee bumbles her way over to the bed Applejack is sitting on. There, she deposits the small pile of items in her arms: folded shirts and trousers, toiletries, a box of cherries and a bottle of water that goes rolling across the bedspread.

“It’ll be a long train ride ahead, and I imagine you didn’t bring anything much here. I have too many spare clothes just lying around on the ranch, anyway,” Jubilee puts her hands on her hips and says explanatorily. She glances at the royal-purple leather suitcase on the floor beside Applejack. “Where’d you get the suitcase from?”

“Oh, it’s one of Rarity’s spares.” It had taken Applejack a while to figure out how to open it until she found out about the magnetic clasp and that each and every one of the ten bucklestraps on it had been purely ornamental. That girl did always bring too many baggages, though Applejack isn’t complaining this time.

Sheepishly, she scratches her head, “Thanks for the stuff. Sorry I didn’t stay that long.”

Jubilee lets out a breath. “Don’t be. I didn’t think it was wise for you to stay for long, anyway. You’re still a high schooler, and you have your own family, friends, and farm to go back to. Not to mention that van was impossible to repair.”

“Yet you still let me try to repair it?”

“You looked liable to chomp off my head if I kept insisting otherwise,” Jubilee points out wryly.

Applejack snorts softly. “Yeah. That’s true. Sorry about that, too. I wasn’t of a good mind at the time. Still, I hope you and the ranch will be alright.”

“Fret not, it will be. I’ve still got Snips and Snails, and every hard worker who agrees to come, no matter for how long they stay,” Jubilee assures her. She pauses to put away the shirt, then inhales deeply, as if preparing herself. ”Actually, I’ve also been thinking about what you said to me that day. I’m going to reach out to my family again.”

Applejack’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

Sighing, Jubilee sits down beside her on the bed and starts refolding a shirt. “I’m not sure if they will even respond. But I’m going to try.”

Applejack smiles, her heart warm. “But yer givin’ it a shot all the same. I’m mighty happy for ya, Ms Jubilee.”

“I guess even when you get as old as me, you still learn useful things from the youngsters sometimes,” Jubilee laughs lightly. “And you helped me fix the mill too before you left. Thank you for that, too.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. I was the one who caused the issue, anywho,” Applejack says. “Oh! And one more thing,” she stands up and walks across the room. She pulls out a drawer, takes out her sketchpad of ideas from it, then returns to Jubilee.

“For you.” She holds out the sketchpad. “I designed them specifically for the systems on Cherry Hill Ranch, so I’ve got no use for them anyway. It’s also a thank-you, I guess, for taking me in when I was at my worst.”

Jubilee takes the sketchpad and thumbs the corners of its pages, staring at it for a long, silent moment, as if she can’t find words.

“I… well, thank you,” she finally utters, her face an unreadable expression. “Hmhm. It definitely won’t be the same not having you around.”

Something itches within Applejack. Then, without pausing to reconsider it for too long, she leans down and wraps Cherry Jubilee in the briefest of hugs. “I’ll miss ya too, ma’am.”

Jubilee nods, blinking a little fast. Lengthily, she clears her throat. “Well, if you tarry any longer, you’ll miss your train too.”

Applejack snorts. “Sure, I’ll be out of yer hair right away.” Clasping shut the packed suitcase, she steps into the doorway.

“Oh, and one more thing, Miss Applejack,” she hears her call out.

“Hm?”

A spark of mirth lights up the woman’s eyes. “Sorry to say this, but you’re fired.”

“Oh, no,” Applejack says, barely repressing her chuckle. “So I really did get fired on the first week.”

“Yes, you did. For stealing my bike, and for the cherries you obliterated on the first day, and for being a general menace to Snips and Snails,” Jubilee nods sagely, ignoring Applejack’s protests to the contrary. Then, the strict scowl slips from her face, replaced with a soft smile.

“But you’re always welcome back here—whether it is to reapply, or just to say hi. Even if you never do, I hope you’ll remember that you’re amazing, talented…” she looks toward the door, where the sounds of her friends’ chattering wind from, “and so very much loved.”

From her head, Applejack removes her hat, and holds Tallulah to her heart. As is custom. “Yeah. I’ll remember.”

“Now—go!”

“Alright, alright!”

~~~

The train ride home is uneventful. They leave in the afternoon and reach Canterlot the next day. Then comes the issue of making it back home. Twilight suggests that they go to school first, so Applejack finds herself in Ms Cadance’s office again.

Ms Cadance drives Applejack to Ponyville and drops her right at the village entrance. The buckles on Rarity’s suitcase jangling in the cold morning quietness, Applejack walks along the meandering dirt path of the village, past the schoolhouse, past the lake, back to Sweet Apple Acres.

When Applejack does reach the top of the short hill, she hesitates outside the doors of the homestead for a moment, not totally sure of what she should do or say when she goes in, or how they’re going to react. Squaring her shoulders and inhaling deeply, she steps inside.

Everyone’s at the table. Granny, Big Mac and Apple Bloom, hunched over breakfast plates. At the sound of the creaking door hinges, the three of them turn to stare at her.

“Hello,” Applejack greets.

For a long and terrifying few seconds, no one says anything. Applejack thinks maybe they’re going to disown her or something, and that she’ll have to go crawling on her butt back to Dodge Junction and change her name to Cherryjack. Then, with a long skreeeeeeee of dragging chairlegs, Granny Smith stands up.

At an excruciatingly slow pace, Granny totters over. Applejack breathes in, fully ready to accept the smack to her face or a furious smattering of scoldings. But instead, Granny draws her into a wordless hug. Applejack freezes up, but slowly, slowly, leans down to reciprocate the hug. She muffles her face into her neck and breathes in, letting the familiar scent of apples clinging to her scarf prick at her eyes.

“Come eat,” is all Granny says.

Applejack does eventually explain the events of the past week. And obviously, Granny does chew her out for her irresponsibility. Applejack listens and doesn’t interrupt. Until the end, that is, when Granny sentences her to no household chores for a week as punishment, which is plum ridiculous and Applejack tells her so.

“Besides, it’s unfair to Big Mac and Apple Bloom,” she says.

“Nuh-uh,” Big Mac rumbles.

“Nope,” Apple Bloom chimes in.

(Applejack lives in a family of weirdoes. But, since she’s off her rocker too, she supposes she hasn’t a right to complain. )

Applejack knows she’s never going to hear the end of this for the rest of her life, but above it all—she’s just glad to be back. So is everyone else, who despite the jibes and pointed remarks, are evidently relieved that she’s home safe and in one piece.

With her family taking over most chores for the week, Applejack finds herself with a staggering, previously unknowable amount of free time. She spends most of that time studying for her end-of-semesters and researching universities, and helping at the anniversary fair (since she’d been told no chores ‘in the house’). But she does still take some time for herself: goes for a run with Carrot Top around the lake, brings home two books from the school library. She even toys with the idea of building a drone or remote-controlled plane for the fun of it (and yeah, maybe also to impress Rainbow Dash).

One day, Apple Bloom calls for Applejack from the kitchen. Applejack finds her little sister standing in front of the washing machine and laundry baskets half-filled with damp clothing.

“You left this in your pocket in the wash,” Apple Bloom says.

Applejack takes a good gander at the faded writing on the gold slip of laminated paper dangling between her fingers. “Is that… the spa ticket Rarity gave me?”

“How would I know,” Apple Bloom shrugs. “It’s yours, I guess, do what you want with it.”

“M’kay,” Applejack keeps it and steps forward towards the laundry baskets. A hand shoots out in front of her.

“Back, back.” Comically, Apple Bloom fans out her hands, as if Applejack were a chicken to be shooed away from the porch. “Granny said no chores for you.”

Applejack pouts. “Awww, not even just one chore?”

Apple Bloom stares. And stares. She rolls her eyes. “You are so totally weird.”

Obligingly, Applejack retreats a distance away and folds her arms behind her. Once Apple Bloom has arbitrarily deemed her safely away, she hmphs and turns to continue unloading the washing machine. Applejack can’t help a little smirk.

“You and me both. I never thought ya’d ever agree so easily to a week of more chores.”

Apple Bloom huffs as she inverts a sweater the right way out. “I don’t like doing chores, but I volunteer to do more chores a lot. You just don’t let me do them.”

“Okay, my bad,” Applejack concedes. “How’s yer science project goin’?”

Hazel eyes glare.

Applejack puts up her hands in surrender. “I’m just askin’ out of curiosity! I swear, I ain’t touched a single bamboo-hair on yer project since I got back, an’ I don’t plan to. It’s all yours.”

On those words, Apple Bloom relaxes. She tosses the sweater into the basket. “It’s true you haven’t interfered with my shishi-odoshi even after you came back. I continued workin’ on it while you were away, so it’s pretty much done by now. I’m gonna submit it to Miss Cheerilee next Monday.”

“Mhmm,” Applejack nods. “Have you thought about how yer gonna get it to school?”

Apple Bloom freezes up. “Ummm…”

“There’s a small wagon in the barn you could use,” Applejack says. “The farm should be good without it for the day. You can take it with you to school on Monday.”

“Like…” Apple Bloom hesitates, “by myself?”

“I could help you with it if you want,” Applejack shrugs. “But you can also take it and go to school by yourself. I think you’re old enough.”

Clear disbelief rolls off Apple Bloom. “You’ve changed.”

“I’m trying,” Applejack lets out a soft chuckle. “Listen, ‘Bloom, I’ve had a lot of time to think this past week. And I’m really sorry that I meddled so much in not just your project, but everything else too. It’s just that, I watched you grow up since you were just a wee lil’ walnut, and sometimes I forget that yer not a baby anymore.”

Apple Bloom’s face softens. “I know it was difficult for you growin’ up. That’s why I wanna help, I wanna be useful on the farm too. Imma’ big girl, and I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” Applejack says. “It’s gonna be hard letting go, but I want to trust you. So starting from today, I’ll try to let you manage your own things. I know I’m stubborn as all get out, heh—but if ya ever think I’m being overbearing, tell me and I promise I’ll listen and we can talk it out.”

Nodding, Apple Bloom brightens like a sunflower opening its petals. Applejack opens her arms wide and Apple Bloom goes running headfirst into a crushing hug.

After they part, Apple Bloom looks back to the row of laundry baskets, all brimming with clothes to be hung. Applejack sees the weary sigh in her sister’s shoulders.

“I know Granny said not to, but…” Applejack says. “Can I help? Just help. Not takin’ over.”

“Keeping secrets from Granny, huh?” Apple Bloom’s lips curl.

“Sisters’ promise?”

Her smile reaching her ears, Apple Bloom mimes zipping her mouth shut. “Sisters’ promise.”

~~~

With the help of Carrot Top and a few others, Applejack manages to gather the townspeople in Sweet Apple Acres’ farmhouse. The small farmhouse barely manages to contain the entire population of Ponyville, but they deal.

Applejack’s up on the makeshift podium, which is really their dining table pushed to the back wall of the living room plus the announcement system they’d dragged in from outside temporarily. There’s maybe a hundred people in here, shuffling their feet about while they wait. When Applejack taps the mic, the murmurs of conversation die down somewhat, and a hundred pairs of eyes turn on her. Instantly, she feels a flutter of anxiety at the attention, but having the rest of the Apples standing by her side calms her down enough to speak. There’s a lot weighing on this get-together, after all.

“Thank you all for coming today. I know most of y’all are busy with the anniversary fair so I’ll get to the point. We have a problem,” she starts. She gestures outside at the Super Speedy Squeezy 6000 parked by the window.

“Flim and Flam are people from out-of-town who have been sellin’ on our grounds for the past week, fully knowing that this is the autumn selling season for us farmers. They’re using the fact that Barnyard Bargains is havin’ their anniversary to gain the attention of the investors Filthy Rich invited. And it’s plain to see that it’s workin’. For those of y’all under Barnyard, that means, our crops are gonna sell for less than they could; for y’all not under Barnyard, they’re still stealin’ the customers that are coming to our town.”

She breathes in, “That’s why we have to stop them.” She surveys the room, taking in the familiar faces, and knowing they find her just as familiar.

“What this village needs is teamwork. To hell with the official rules, this is Ponyville’s turf, and ain’t nobody is gonna take that from us,” Applejack insists. “We all have to work together against Flim and Flam, no matter our differences. So please, sincerely, I’m askin’ for your cooperation: we need a plan so we can all get through the winter.”

The village bursts into chatter. Applejack's nerves jump in her chest like wild jackrabbits, her grip on the microphone clammy. It’s hard to discern whether the reaction is a positive or negative one, and who’s to say anyone will take a seventeen-year-old seriously?

Then, from the crowd, a woman emerges—it’s Berry Punch. Applejack watches nervously as she ambles to the front of the farmhouse and comes to a stop in front of Applejack, holding out her hand.

Awkwardly, Applejack gets down from the dining-table-podium and passes her the microphone. Berry Punch taps the microphone a few times in testing, then speaks.

"I’ve noticed the Flim Flam problem too,” she begins firmly. “I know many of us are still goin’ around supporting each other, but Applejack’s right. T’ain’t enough for our winter sales, and them investor rascals from Barnyard are gettin’ shifty eyes even though they’re supposed ta’ be here for us. We need a better plan.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd once more. Someone else steps up. Berry Punch passes the microphone on to Lily Valley, the florist. Her voice is much more timid than Berry’s, but she lifts the head of the microphone to her lips. “I think working together is a good idea. I for one would be happy to put together a shop with any of you.”

“Oh!” comes from somewhere in the crowd, a hand shooting up. The youngest son of the Lemons comes bouncing up, taking the microphone and getting up on the table. “How about a big market?”

Gradually, more and more villagers start coming up one by one to put together their plan. By the end of it, it’s not so much a speech rather than one big round-table style discussion, with people passing the microphone around and pitching their ideas. They stay for the next hour or so, in which they strategised together, and after that, they finally leave with something that looks like a plan, and a timeline to carry it out. Applejack’s not gonna lie—seeing the village get together again like this blossoms a hope in her heart that she hasn’t felt in a long while.

Afterwards, the villagers start saying their goodbyes. Many of them chide her with good intentions, and just as many tell her they missed her. Carrot Top gives her a big hug and tells her to stop by for tea.

As Applejack thinks she’s waved the last person off, a gravelly and unfamiliar voice sounds behind her.

“That was quite the rousing talk you gave back there.”

Applejack turns around to see the person she least expects here.

It’s Grand Pear. He’s a short man, shorter than her, skinny, with a knotty green scarf around his neck and mats of stringy white hair clinging to his scalp.

Maybe he was being sarcastic? But his lips are curved into the semblance of a wrinkled smile, which kind of freaks Applejack out a little, because she’s never seen his face do anything but frown. She hadn’t thought the eldest Pear was actually capable of smiling.

Consarnit, Grand Pear was giving her a genuine compliment. Now the Oh, you again? on the tip of her tongue seemed pretty rude. If this were in the past, even if the compliment had been genuine, she might’ve still scoffed like yeah, sure and walked away. But Filthy Rich’s words surface in her mind: that maybe they had more history and more in common than she thought. Maybe this was a chance for her to try reaching out to her neighbour instead of clinging to grudges like a stubborn koala.

Belatedly, Applejack realised she had gone for a while without speaking. But Grand Pear didn’t seem to mind, as if he had been lost in thoughts of his own.

“Your Ma was much the same,” Grand Pear murmurs, as if reminiscing. “She was no attention hog, but she was always humble and helpful, and everyone in the village loved her. She was able to pull a crowd together and the people would listen to her. ”

“You knew my Ma?” Applejack questions.

“Of course I do,” Grand Pear says. “She’s my daughter.”

“She’s your-” Applejack feels her brain short-circuit. “Wait. That means. Wait,” Applejack stutters, stumbling over her words.

Grand Pear doesn’t give Applejack the grace of letting her process the fact that she is half-Pear and Grand Pear is her grandfather. “Yes, my daughter Pear Butter married y’all’s Apples’ Bright Mac, and had the three of you scamps. Didn’t you know that already?”

“But my mum’s name was Buttercup,” Applejack remembers.

“A nickname,” Grand Pear grunts, “given to her by Bright Mac. Maybe so the rest of yer Apple family wouldn’t find out. Though it was still a darn tootin’ miserable job they did of hiding it.”

“Why didn’t they want others to find out?”

Grand Pear sighs. He starts turning around, and Applejack thinks that maybe it’s just something he didn’t want to talk about, but then he beckons to her with a wrinkled hand. Frantically, Applejack bounds over to catch up to him.

After exiting the farmhouse, Grand Pear starts hobbling down a hill across the grass. Applejack’s never been down this hill before. The grass is long and uncut, reaching up past her farm boots to sweep at the back of her knees. The hill itself looks unmarked by any trails or dirt paths, and is pretty steep too. Treading carefully herself, Applejack watches Grand Pear’s tottering steps warily. From his uneven footfalls, Grand Pear would obviously benefit from a walking aid, but if Applejack were to guess, he likely refused to use one, just like Granny.

“As you might already know,” Grand Pear starts gruffly. He’s stopped walking for a bit, maybe to rest, allowing Applejack to catch up proper, “the feud between the Pears and Apples has been around since a very long time ago. Even back in my time, there was already a feud. There might have been a feud in my own grandfather’s time.”

Shuffling his feet, Grand Pear walks on again, now following a curve down the hill. Applejack falls into step behind him, close enough to catch him if he slipped. Grand Pear continues murmuring.

“A relationship between a Pear and an Apple was unthinkable. And when yer parents passed away together in that accident, it made the feud worse, although you may’ve been too young to remember. Long story short, we Pears blamed the Apples because it happened in y’all’s barn, the Apples were blamin’ us because Bright Mac had been trying to save Pear Butter. We never really forgave each other.”

They reach the foot of the hill.

“But there had been a moment of peace. Before the anger overtook us again, there had been a brief truce. Right after they passed.”

Two trees stand in the clearing. One’s an apple tree. The other’s a pear tree—though Applejack can’t tell on sight, the pale golden fruit lying at its leaf-littered base gives it away. The last few browning leaves cling to each tree’s mostly bared branches, fluttering together in the cold winter breeze, while ripened fruit lies fallen on the ground, unharvested. The trees are planted together so closely that their canopies are merged into one, impossible to tell which of the two certain branches belonged to. With such little room between them for their roots to grow out, it’s a wonder either of them are flourishing.

A miracle.

“Those trees… I found yer Ma and Pa as they were gettin’ married right here behind the hill. I witnessed them as they threw the seeds into the ground; some kind of sentimental wedding ritual, I suppose. Not that it mattered to me at the time—I was so honkin’ mad that I cut off contact with her after she moved to live with Bright Mac. ”

Applejack doesn’t say anything, but her disdain must be loud enough on her face. Grand Pear’s nostrils flare, but he settles back down, as if resigned.

“Even though I could’ve, I never found the heart to dig up the seeds, especially after they passed. If you ask, I do regret what I did. I miss her terribly. I’m sure you must too.”

She nods, her breaths fogging in the cold air.

Grand Pear exhales with a grunt. “Hearing yer speech today made me think that maybe we need to try harder again and recreate that peace. Even if none of us wanted to admit it, it was plain as day y’all’s Bright Mac made my little Butter happy. They wouldn’t have wanted us to hate each other. So for their sake, I’m willing to put aside old grudges and start anew. What do you say, Applejack?”

It’s not much, but it’s an olive branch of peace. A start. Applejack takes it.

~~~

ME: do you guys wanna go to the spa maybe

One of these days

RARITY: YES

RAINBOW DASH: have you been possessed

or kidnapped again

ME: Shut up I’ll haunt you

RAINBOW DASH: type three dots if ur being held hostage on a mangosteen farm

Oh nvr mind now I know ur definitely aj

PINKIE PIE: what is happening

spa??? YES

TWILIGHT SPARKLE: Sure, but when, Applejack?

ME: [image sent]

This expires next week, I think

Rarity gave it to me I just don’t want it to go to waste

It went through hell in the wash though do yall think it still works

FLUTTERSHY: we can still try!

RARITY: I’ll *make* it work, don’t worry. We are getting you in that spa, Applejack, and you are going to have the best time of your life.

RAINBOW DASH: I seriously don’t get why you love spas so much

RARITY: [image sent]

This you?

RAINBOW DASH: WHY DO YOU HAVETHAT

RARITY: [image sent] [image sent]

RAINBOW DASH: WHAT

DELETE THOSE

NOW

RARITY: no ❤️

~~~

The van may be gone, but Applejack still has to get to school, somehow. The Harvests next door lend them a small truck. Big Mac offers to drive her.

As Applejack buckles herself in the co-driver seat, Big Mac shuffles through the truck’s compartments. There’s a stack of CDs in one of the drawers he pulls out. He punches on the radio. “Anything you wanna listen to?”

Applejack shrugs. “Anything’s fine.”

Big Mac plugs a random disc in the player and slides it in with a click. As the engine rumbles to life, the twangy strumming of guitar and easygoing drums winds through the space and carries them onto the road.

“Ah, I gotta make a call,” Applejack says.

“Go ahead.”

Applejack isn’t even fighting the grin when she flips open her phone and keys Rainbow’s number in. The recipient picks up near immediately.

“Eager, aren’t we?” she can’t help teasing.

“Please.” Murder-goose profile picture flicking off, Rainbow’s face comes through the screen. “Dude. I’ve been awake for a whole hour waiting for this.”

“You make it sound like I’m the live TV premiere of a Wonderbolts airshow.”

“You kidding, the live? I’d be there at the showgrounds.”

“Flyin’ one of them planes?”

“Pfft. I’m just a rookie. Captain Spitfire would have it out for me if I did that now.”

“Would that stop you, though?”

A broad, devilish grin breaks out across Rainbow’s lips.

Big Mac huffs from behind the wheel. “I know y’all are joshin’ around, but tell yer friend not to do anything stupid.”

Rainbow perks up, leaning towards the camera. “Big Mac’s here too?”

“Yeah, he’s driving me,” Applejack says, pivoting the phone slightly until Big Mac’s profile is captured within the screen.

“Heyyy, big guy! Long time no see!”

“Howdy there yourself,” Big Mac spares a glance at the screen. “Ain’t seen you this cider season.”

“Everyone in the village knows you for the cider season, by the way,” Applejack informs Rainbow. “Filthy Rich asked about you too.”

Rainbow whistles. “Aww, was I that popular?”

“Infamous, more like. They remember you because you always make a dayum scene when yer late and have to wait for the next cider batch,” Applejack deadpans. “That and because your hair’s as bright as Apple Bloom’s crayon set.”

“Cute. Send them my regards.”

“I would, but I think they’ve heard enough from you.”

“But I only go there once a year?”

“Hearing you once is enough for a decade, trust me.”

“Why are you a bully,” Rainbow says. “Big Mac, tell your sister to stop bullying me.”

“Eenope,” Big Mac smiles.

“Uuuugh. All of y’all are bullies, I swear,” she groans. “Well, anyway, nice talk, but I gotta go for my morning run now. But come over to my room after school. We still have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, we sure do,” Applejack agrees, eyeing their last conversation history. “I’ll be there.”

“You better be. I have pizza,” she pauses. “I hope you like Hawaiian.”

“Ya know, you really have the worst taste in food.”

“I have great taste, thank you very much.”

The things I put up with, Applejack tells herself. The dumb smile lingers on her face long after they hang up. Meanwhile, Alan Jackson on the radio goes on singing:

Livin' on love, buyin' on time

Without somebody nothing ain't worth a dime

Just like an old fashion story book rhyme

Livin' on love

~~~

“Now, I didn’t tell you before,” Applejack remarks as she walks in through the door of room 520, shedding her coat to drape it on the hook, “but recently you’ve been lookin’ like death.”

“Man,” Rainbow raises her head from the couch. No concealer to hide them this time, obvious bluish-purple eyebags droop beneath her eyes, and angry red blisters of picked-apart pimples pepper her forehead and cheeks. “How’d you tell.”

“RD,” Applejack walks over, moves aside several Star Wars plushies to make room, and plops down on the couch beside her. “Are you okay?”

Rainbow buries her head back into a stuffed robot…R2-D2, maybe? Heh. It sounds like her name. “Pizza. Freezer. Now,” her disgruntled voice demands.

Sighing through a smile, Applejack ruffles her mop of hair and gets up to locate their dinner. After moving aside packs of dumplings and yoghurt boxes, she finds the frozen Hawaiian pizza stashed in the lower compartment. A few minutes later, the microwave dings and Applejack returns with the goods on a plate.

“When you said you had pizza, I though ya were gonna order delivery,” Applejack says, unimpressed, as she squats down and feeds a slice of cheesy, pineapple-covered monstrosity into Rainbow’s awaiting mouth. “Frozen pizza? Seriously?”

“Omnomnom,” Rainbow munches through the pizza. Her throat bobs as she swallows, after which she sits up like a robot with its batteries newly recharged. She coughs. “I was considering delivery, but I got too tired.”

“What did you have before this?”

“School, 8 to 12 P.M.,” Rainbow rattles off, “lunch for thirty minutes, catch interview 12.30 to 1.30P.M., the interview overran by thirty minutes, back to class until 5. And now I have to catch up on the classwork I missed today, and the days I missed before that, and later I'm still going for track training.”

“Wow,” Applejack says.

“That, and I have flight school on the weekends, so I gotta cram it in the evenings,” Rainbow concludes her miserable recount, before slumping back down into R2-D2’s fuzzy belly. “...More pizza please.”

Applejack responds to this by lifting another cheesy slice, feigning feeding it to her, before abruptly swerving it so she can send it into her own mouth. As more of the pizza disappears into Applejack’s belly, Rainbow curses in realisation and vehemently wriggles her body forward on the couch until her fingers stretch out far enough to grab a slice for herself.

She throws the middle finger at her as she chows it down. Applejack sticks out her tongue and throws one back. They wordlessly consume pizza for the next few minutes. Then Rainbow Dash sits up.

“I want to dye my hair again,” she says suddenly.

Applejack looks at her blankly.

“I haven’t had the time for it recently,” Rainbow sulks, wiping off her oily fingers with tissue before twirling a brunette strand between them. “But… if someone could help me with it, it would be a lot faster.”

Applejack scoffs. “You are so not subtle.”

"Hmm? Subtle about what?" Rainbow blinks innocently.

Applejack puts a hand on her forehead and sighs. "...I've never dyed hair before, just so you know."

"I'll instruct you! Pleaaaase?" Rainbow’s pleading puppy eyes are less cute than probably intended to be from the massive eyebags.

“...You’re lucky I like you,” Applejack sighs, only realising what she’s said seconds later when Rainbow’s eyes widen a fraction, but at this point Applejack figures she’s run her mouth far too many times to attempt backpedalling anymore. “What can I do for you, my liege.”

Rainbow’s grin sparkles with undisguised glee. Under her direction, Applejack procures a box of materials from the bathroom. She works a comb through Rainbow’s tangles, then pulls on a pair of rubber gloves while Rainbow wraps a sheet around her shoulders, and then coats her hair with bleach. While they’re waiting for the bleach to set, Rainbow sits with her damp, starchy-white locks of hair and gives her further instructions.

Half an hour later, Applejack carefully rinses out the bleach from the hair and dries the now light-blonde strands with a hair dryer. The intimacy of the whole process isn’t lost on Applejack: what with the way Rainbow pliantly leans into Applejack’s touch, the feel of her silky strands as she cards her fingers through them to separate the locks. It’s a relief that Rainbow’s back is turned to her so Applejack doesn’t have to think about how red her face might be as she indulges in the moment.

Once Rainbow’s hair is clipped into sections, Applejack hovers wary hands over a paintbox of multiple pots of vibrantly coloured pastes.

“I already mixed it properly, so all you gotta do is glob it on my hair. Just think of it like painting,” Rainbow’s voice floats. “Now, don’t just throw on everything everywhere, there’s a certain way I like to do it. The front, this part is red, then orange, then…” She points at her own hair as she continues.

Applejack stills. “You’re dyeing it rainbow?”

“What did you think I’d dye it?”

“Uhh, solid purple or somethin’, like you said. For professionality an’ the Wonderbolts or whatever.”

“Oh, screw professionality,” Rainbow smirks. “Purple’s so boring. I’ve decided rainbow’s my trademark, so I’m sticking to it.”

“Alright then,” Applejack says. “Do you want me to get a mirror? So you can call me out while I’m goin’ to town with yer precious hair.”

“Nah. I trust you,” Rainbow swishes her head about, her grin a shark’s. “But fair warning: if you screw this up, I’m never talking to you ever again.”

“Oh, alright, guess you’re never gettin’ yer cider ever again then.”

Rainbow Dash cries foul. Snickering, Applejack picks up the brush and dips the head in the first pot, a vivid red concoction labelled ‘poppy’. Holding out a panel of hair between her fingers, she smears a the first layer of colour over the strands, prodding the bristles right at the roots as Rainbow tells her to, painting across the expanse and down to the tips, covering the fading colours there with fresh, intense hues. After a while, Rainbow, apparently satisfied, allows Applejack to continue without further instruction.

Applejack loses herself in the methodical movements, but then suddenly the half-painted head in front of her droops forward. The brush in Applejack’s hands narrowly misses, her snatching it away quickly before it can apply the colour to the wrong panel of hair. Abruptly Rainbow sits up, shaking herself.

“Sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” Rainbow sounds apologetic.

“How much sleep have you been getting?”

“......” A prolonged silence. “Give or take three hours? I dunno, I stayed up all of last night doing math, don’t make me do math right now.”

Applejack exhales. “You’ve been really stretched thin these days, haven’t you.”

Rainbow snorts lightly. “Ya think?”

“You know you don’t have to take on so many darn things if it’s stressin’ you out,” Applejack says. “And for homework, I’m sure if you appealed to the school, they’d let you take an extension or two. Or several.”

“Ms Cadance did tell me that,” Rainbow sighs. “But I don’t want to- I mean, it just feels like losing if I did that. I’m sure I could handle it all if I stopped procrastinating and organised my time better.”

Applejack shakes her head. “If it’s too much, you need to cut down. Yer- what, in additional classes, captaining the track club, doing yer Wonderbolts thing, plus you’ve got all those TV and radio stuff too? That’s crazy, I dun even know how you’re alive.”

“Makes for a good resume,” Rainbow says dryly.

“Resume or not, t’ain’t sustainable. We’re not even in finals season yet.”

Rainbow visibly crumples. “Don’t remind me of that.”

“But it’s true,” Applejack presses. “You know, it’s not admittin’ defeat to ask for help or to take things a tad easier; you gals were the ones who taught me that, weren’t y’all? Even when Ms Cadance was tellin’ me to be more involved in school activities, she also warned me about burnout. Finals are a marathon not a sprint,” she parrots. “You have to conserve yer energy for the later rounds.”

“She was telling you to be more involved in school activities?”

“Yeah,” Applejack paints a sky-blue stripe down Rainbow’s hair. “When yer constantly travellin’ between the city and village and workin’ on a farm, it’s hard to do much at school.” She pauses. It takes a while, but she manages to string her thoughts into a coherent sentence. “To tell the truth, I was… pretty jealous of you. It felt like you were doing so much, while I was out there doing nothin’.”

“That’s just wrong, you’re always busy on the farm. That’s not ‘nothing’,” Rainbow argues.

“Sure didn’t stop me from feeling like it. You see, the farm’s mah whole life, an’ I’m pretty used to taking charge of everythin’. It wasn’t until recently that I learnt to rely on the rest of my family too, that I’m not alone.” She breathes. “That even if I thought I could handle it all on my own, I didn’t have to. That goes for you too.”

“Ahh, so you’re having me take my own advice,” Rainbow folds her arms. “Neat.”

Applejack chuckles; Rainbow joins in, their laughter echoing about in the small common area of the dorm. After a moment, Applejack adds, “We’ve always been plenty similar in lots of ways. So, Rainbow, if you talked me out of my funk while I was being the dumbest goose alive, surely you can listen to me now.”

Rainbow raises an eyebrow at her. “You calling me dumb?”

“If you don’t listen up and take time for yerself, then yes, I am.”

“Psh. Asshat.”

“Now, now, don’t take it out on my hat.”

“Noble, but m’referring to you, not the hat.”

“Yet here you were, makin’ me feed you pizza like a servant while you were too lazy to move your butt. Who’s the real asshat here?”

Possibly unable to refute that statement, Rainbow decides her sole appropriate response is stealing Tallulah from Applejack’s head and slapping her with it. Applejack wants to wrestle back, but is too terrified of ruining her work on Rainbow’s hair to do so, so she ends up swatting the air in the other girl’s general direction.

Cackling hysterically, Rainbow eventually settles back down and lets Applejack finish her job. From there, it’s a rinse and dry, and by the time the whirr of the hair dryer halts, the sky is already dark outside, the sunsets growing earlier with the oncoming winter.

Only now does Rainbow accept the mirror. She scrutinises her reflection for a few seconds, before nods in satisfaction.

“Not bad. You get to talk to me again.”

Applejack rolls her eyes. “As if you would ever quit yammerin’ to me.”

“Bro, I don’t talk that much.”

“You gave me twenty-one missed calls in total. You travelled across states to talk to me.” Applejack reminds her. “You flew a goddamn plane over a desert to talk to me.”

Rainbow groans and lowers her head.

“But by all means… don’t ever stop,” Applejack adds, quieter. “And for me, I’ll try to… talk more too, I guess. Tell y’all more about what’s happening with me instead of buryin’ it all quiet-like.”

“Mmh,” Rainbow nods. “I’ll think about what you said too.”

“Yeah,” Applejack gives a small smile. “By the way, if I might put in a word? I think Bulk would make a great track captain too.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Rainbow grins. Her eyes flick to the clock on the table. “Speaking of track, I gotta go soon.” She gets up, stretching out her arms.

“Oh yeah, it’s time. I’ll see you around then,” Applejack stands up, packing up the items on the floor. “I’ve also got to make it to another Decor Club meeting. Got a lot of those recently, what with the Fall Formal soon an’ all.”

At the words Fall Formal, Rainbow stiffens. They stand awkwardly for a moment.

Right. There was still that.

Applejack takes a deep breath. She started this; she’s going to finish it. She can do this.

“And speakin’ of the Fall Formal,” the words come out more naturally than she thought they would, like they’ve been aching to be released. Rather than like a dam bursting free, though, it feels more like a river running its natural course, trickling down from a mountain spring, flowing out to the wide open ocean.

“I don’t know if ya saw my text that one time. I was drunk when I wrote that, and I deleted it right afterwards, but I meant what I said.”

Rainbow’s eyes have gone wide. She seems at a loss for words, so Applejack dislodges the last words from her throat finally:

“So, even if you were rejecting me, I wanted to ask you properly, so you can reject me properly, at least.”

A few very long seconds pass. Then, Rainbow stutters, face aflame by now. “Wait, uh, I wasn’t rejecting you?”

Confused, Applejack stares at her. “But you ignored the text?”

Rainbow buries her face in her hands. “Omigosh omigosh. I am so stupid.”

“Huh…”

“I thought that you deleted the message right away because you didn’t mean to ask that,” Rainbow says. “Or that you were trying to ask someone else. Or, uhh…”

“...Fair.” Applejack sighs. Her heart’s pounding fast inside her chest right now. She hadn’t planned on popping the question this soon, even it was a silly, innocent question like this one, but when did anything ever go according to plan with Rainbow Dash involved, anyway?

But Applejack’s still a traditionalist, and a hopeless romantic to boot, so she makes a split-second decision: a gesture, though clumsy, that would try to convey as much as a lady asking another lady to a not-prom could convey.

She peels off her dye-stained gloves and shoves her hand out, hoping the furious blush on her face isn’t as bad as it feels. “Rainbow Dash. Do you wanna, maybe, dance with me at the Fall Formal?”

Rainbow stares at the outstretched hand, and even as time rushes on about them, for a moment Applejack swears she feels the world grind to a halt, just like it had three years ago. This time, Rainbow smiles and slips her hand into Applejack’s, the heart of her palm warm against hers.

“Yeah, let’s.”

~~~

8- Chase the Sky

Applejack hasn't felt this relaxed in ages.

The private bath Rarity reserved for them is a cosy, round little chamber in the back of Le Canterlot Spa. Low lights in the shape of white lilies hang from the domed ceiling, their glow faint in the steam that clouds the air. The bath itself is a basin carved into the centre of a wooden platform, surrounded by stacks of rocks and pebbles all draped in the fronds of ferns. Calming harp music issues from some speakers cleverly hidden away by the decoration.

Where Applejack sits in the bath, a smooth and continuous stone ledge, the hot water swishes languidly past her skin, around her shoulders and under her legs. The water smells fragrant, floral with hints of eucalyptus, and the heat sinks in throughout her tired muscles, soothingly massaging the cold and the tenseness out of them.

With a deep, rumbling sigh, she closes her eyes and leans back on the wall of the bath, letting her hair fan out in the water behind her.

When suddenly–

“Yaaaaaaargh!”

“Eep!”

Applejack’s eyes open in time to see Pinkie Pie crashing to the surface, a cannonball of bubblegum-pink that aims straight for Fluttershy, who squeals in terror and dives over to Applejack’s side of the tub.

Twilight Sparkle clucks disapprovingly at them from her corner of the bath. Rarity, as if resigned to all of their antics, has sequestered herself beneath the wall of her facial mask, in her own imaginary bubble of zen. Even the WHAM! from the chamber entrancethat follows right after does not stir her in the slightest.

“Sorry I’m late!” a voice cracks like thunder.

Applejack looks up. Rainbow Dash has slammed open the door to the bath with her leg, huffing and panting. Pushing off on it, she stomps into the room and wrenches her hair free of its high ponytail, snapping the hairtie on her wrist. Next she reaches behind her back. The sash securing her fluffy bathrobe comes loose, and Rainbow shrugs it off her shoulders and discards it haphazardly on a bench by the door, leaving her in her swimsuit. And oh. Wow.

It's not that Applejack hasn't seen Rainbow in revealing clothing before; her wardrobe favours short-shorts and skirts with safety shorts, her insisting that jeans or leggings restricted her freedom of movement too much. But that black one-piece is tight, and hugs Rainbow's figure in all the right places. Her thighs are far from pillowy-soft—there's the hard, defined lines of muscle along each of them, and below that the curve of her calves look… hoo-whee… rock-solid.

Applejack can always appreciate a well-trained physique, and if the bath water suddenly feels hotter than it was a minute before, it has nothing to do with her.

Then Twilight's voice rouses her from her reverie. “Rainbow Dash, don’t divebomb into the bath. It’s shallow,” she's calling out.

By the edge of the bath, Rainbow pauses, knees bent. “How’d you know?”

“Yer predictable,” Applejack supplies, once the wiring in her brain has stopped frying.

“Me? Predictable?” Rainbow’s eyes boggle.

“Yeah,” Applejack laughs. “Come on in normally, ya rascal.”

“It's a wonder how any of you are alive,” Twilight sighs into the steam and sinks below the bubbles.

Rainbow still chooses to swing her legs over the edge and drop to the bath’s base instead of walking down the steps. She wades over to Applejack’s side to sit on the ledge beside her.

Their hands are positioned so close to one another that their fingers are almost brushing; Applejack fights the urge to link their hands together. Even with all that happened—in the fashion club room, pressed onto the train platform of Dodge Junction, holding hands five floors up in the dorms (wow, that’s a lot of times a lot happened)—they haven't made anything official.

So instead, with a sweep of her leg through the water, she hooks her ankle around hers.

At the contact, Rainbow stiffens, wide rose eyes snapping to Applejack. Applejack smiles; after a moment, an amused smirk breaks out on Rainbow's face too. She shakes their joined ankles and scoots closer towards her anyway, and if her fingers end up overlapping Applejack's fingertips, neither of them mention it. Applejack just has to bite down on her lip to stop the stupid grin that threatens to erupt.

“How was flight school today?” she asks.

Rainbow throws her head back with a groan. “Ughhhhh. I was held back because I got the strict instructor today. I swear, I make one tiny slip-up, and he lectures me for decades. I think he has it out for me personally.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re the Wonderbolt-to-be, and all,” Applejack says. “Also, you think every professor is out for you personally.”

“And what if they are? Huh??”

Applejack snickers.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nah, it’s just funny that you’re in flight school, but complain about it just the same way as regular school.”

“Hey, flight school’s still school. It’s not so different.”

“Today I learnt,” Applejack surmises.

“Me three!” Pinkie chirps as she drifts by them, bobbing in the water.

Twilight splutters, gaping. “Pinkie, why do you have that?”

“I brought it!” Pinkie replies, back-down on an inflatable unicorn float, legs thrown over the side of its lavender doughnut-ring body.

“For goodness’ sake, this is a spa, not a pool.” Twilight pinches her nose.

“It's pretty much a pool, Twi,” Pinkie says. “It's an area with water in it!”

Twilight has this look on her face that can only be described as mildly constipated. “T-that’s not- it's not a swimming pool,” she manages to choke out.

Pinkie flips tummy-down on the float and does a little doggy paddle in the water. “But you can swim in it! See?”

“Is a pool a soup?” Fluttershy muses.

“Now Fluttershy here is asking the right questions,” Pinkie nods sagely. “Is cereal a pool? Is a spa a cereal? Twilight, your input please,” she points an imaginary microphone at her.

“I am not participating in this conversation.”

Possibly unable to resist her curiosity, Rarity has lifted one of the cucumber slices of her mask to get a look. Her eyes bug at the sight of the unicorn float. “Where in heavens did you get that from?”

Pinkie frowned. “Didn't you hear just now? I said I brought it.”

“I didn’t see you bringing it in…”

“I hid it in my hair.”

“But it’s enormous.”

“It was deflated, silly. I blew it up!”

“But when did you- how-” Twilight slumps in defeat. One does not explain Pinkie Pie. “Never mind.”

“Aww Twi, don't look so glum,” Pinkie says. “It kind of looks like you!”

“How on Earth does that thing look like me?”

Pinkie pulls out a marker from her hair and squiggles a pair of black glasses onto the unicorn's rubber muzzle. Applejack has to admit it does kind of look like Twilight.

“I want to try the float,” Fluttershy's quiet voice breaks in.

“It's mi-i-ine,” Pinkie hugs the inflatable neck of the unicorn. “You should've brought your own.”

Applejack raises her brows. “What happened to you gotta share, you gotta care?”

“Capitalism,” Pinkie says soberly. “And please never bring up the second year musical, like, ever again.”

“Nah, I need a piece of that too,” Rainbow says, the only warning from her before she curls a hand around Applejack's wrist and lunges for the float. Applejack's dragged with her, her surprised yell joining Pinkie’s shriek, who tries to paddle the unicorn away but doesn’t get very far in the bath-pool.

Rainbow squeezes agilely onto the ring with Pinkie, and valiantly attempts to haul Applejack up the float too, but not before Pinkie brandishes a pool noodle at her and knocks her off with a surprising amount of force for the flimsy thing. Rainbow is next on target, and she goes tumbling into the bath in a splash of perfumed water.

Pinkie tries to coax a begrudging Twilight into getting onto the float while Rainbow and Applejack plot a joint strategy to nab the Twilight Float. By coax and plot, of course they mean flinging water at each other and cackling at the top of their lungs.

Rarity is trying to cover her face with her arms, muttering something about uncouthness and ill decorum, when the crest of a water wave sloshes over her, soaking her completely. Gargling bathwater, Rarity stands in dripping-wet glory, facemask dangling off her chin for a full five seconds before, with an enraged screech, Rarity launches herself into the quickly escalating battlefield. (Pinkie has water guns out now. It's chaos. It's great.)

By the end of it, they're all floating on their backs or slumped against the stone ledge in exhaustion. Fluttershy is the last one standing, left stubbornly clinging to the float, basking in her victory–that is, until the five of them launch a coordinated attack on the float, overturning it and her into the water.

One cucumber slice slides down Twilight’s cheek while Rainbow plucks the other from Applejack’s hair. Laughter echoes all around the walls of the chamber, and Applejack feels so happy her heart could burst.

~~~

The market is a booming success. There's more people gathered on these sun-drenched fields than Applejack's certain she's never seen in her entire life while in Ponyville. There are still familiar faces, but there are so, so many more that she doesn’t recognise. She later finds out that the Berries had talked Filthy Rich into pulling a few strings to get those in the neighbouring towns and cities to come pay a visit.

With the combined strength of Ponyville's farmers, there's no reason for any of them to pay attention to the Super Squeezy bus parked up the hill. If the Flim Flam brothers can dance, so can the kids from Miss Cheerilee’s class. Apple Bloom is with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo in the front, Sweetie singing sweet melodies while Scootaloo plays the guitar, all of them dancing while Apple Bloom’s completed fountain, gurgling, gives a pleasant chime every now and then. And people would much prefer watch their earnest performances than the over-the-top schtick that the slimy businessmen put on. Realising now that their schemes are making them more losses than profits, the brothers high-tail it out of their village with their straw fedoras tucked between their legs, and the residents of Ponyville boo them the whole way out.

But with the incredible success comes other things, like the fact that there needs to be thirty apple fritters in the next ten minutes and they've already run out of the batter they mixed up the day before, and Applejack feels like she hasn’t breathed since five in the morning.

She has to stand there for a moment, trying to figure out who ordered what first and how long she can leave the fryer unattended while she makes a mad dash for the flour and butter and whip it all up and oh consarnit those fritters are about to burn and people are looking impatiently this way and someone else wants to order–

Then in a blink, Big Mac is beside her, steady as a mountain as he scoops the fritters from the oil before they can turn to coal lumps, and covers the existing orders. And on her other side, Carrot Top slings an arm around her shoulder. “What's wrong, Jack?”

Applejack inhales as best she can and holds her arms out. “We need like, this many fritters,” then she waves vaguely at the scraped batter bowl, “and, there's that.”

Carrot Top, bless her soul, understands Applejack’s stressed-out attempt at communication. She pinches two fingers to her lips and lets loose a shrill whistle. Instantly, three teens come bounding over from their stall.

“Go help,” Carrot Top tells them. They make a beeline for the flour, eggs and milk respectively.

“Christ, I could kiss the ground beneath yer feet,” Applejack sags in relief. Things move along so smoothly, she even has the time to sit down on one of the apple crates and catch a breather. “Will y’all be alright, though?” she has to ask.

“Blah, we’ve got plenty of manpower to spare. You asked me to be prepared for crowd control,” Carrot Top says as she hops up on the crates beside her, waving unconcernedly at the Harvests’ stall. Applejack looks over to see that, sure enough, at least forty other people are behind their booth, consisting of Carrot Top’s siblings, parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins… “Lo and behold—crowd control!”

“Horsefeathers, is that a new babe?” Applejack squints at the wailing newborn swaddled in someone’s arms.

“Mhm, that’s my new niece,” Carrot Top says. She points to further off where another baby is crawling over a picnic mat towards a line of bottled carrot juice, before being picked up by someone else and reproached gently. “And there’s two of them!”

“What I wouldn’t give for a larger family at times,” Applejack muses wistfully, now glancing over at where Granny is meanwhile tending to the jams and preserves stall on her own. It may not be as busy there for now, but Applejack will have to return to the fray once it picks up again.

“It’s just the four of y’all, huh,” Carrot Top rubs her chin. “Funny thing, but I remember there bein’ a whole lot more Apples during yer family reunions.”

“Most of them moved out years ago, at least generations before I was born,” Applejack says. “To Manehattan, Appleloosa, Fillydelphia, all them other states…they’re only here for reunion. Growin’ up, it was just us in Ponyville.” She exhales. “Maybe Apples were born to be globetrotters.”

Curiously, Carrot Top eyes her. “You gonna be one, too?”

“I dunno,” Applejack admits, tracing her fingers over the coarse surface of the worn wooden crate, the bumps and ditches of it. “The farm’s always my first responsibility. If it’s the farm or college, I’m choosin’ the farm, there’s no question about it.”

“But what if,” she continues, “I didn’t have to choose between the two? If I can get one of those scholarships for rural students, get some special arrangements made just like I did for high school in the city, college in the city ain’t gonna be all that different. Moreover, the schedule for college is usually more flexible than high school.”

It’s an idea that she was once used to brushing off without a second thought, but now that she’s actually giving herself the opportunity to really, really consider it—it’s possible. And just like that, it’s like striking a match, hope blazing to life in her. Like that spark she’d felt when she first accepted Canterlot’s offer.

Now that she’s seen the world, she wants more.

“Ahh,” Carrot Top scratches her head. “So Canterlot’s colleges has those kinds of programmes?”

“I was actually thinking…” And Applejack tells her about the idea she’s toyed with in her mind for a while now.

Carrot Top gasps when she listens. She sits forward on the crates, amazed. “You're doggone wild.”

“I am doggone wild,” Applejack concedes, chuckling. “But it’s just a thought! I’ve still gotta work things out here, research more, after all. And who knows if they’ll even accept me.”

“You’re gonna do great things, Applejack,” Carrot Top says fiercely, moving over to clap her back. “Tell you what, ya go out there and chase yer dreams. If Sweet Apple Acres is ever in a pinch, mah folks will always be here to give y’all a hand.”

“That’s downright neighbourly of you, Carrot Top. I couldn’t thank you enough,” Applejack says. But her brain’s also already running ahead, thinking of musty desert winds and fluttering cherry trees. “In the long run though, I’m also thinkin’ about hiring farmhands from outside, if I can get Granny to approve it. I could start a website for it.”

Carrot Top whistles, grinning. “Yer really a city girl proper now.”

“Nah, I'll always be a country girl through and through,” Applejack grins back. Then, “Oh shucks, I’ve taken long enough of a break, haven’t I,” she jumps off the crates in a hurry. “I gotta go help Granny.”

But then she stops short as she catches sight of the extra figures behind the counter of the jam stall.

It’s Grand Pear shelving jars of jam, with his signature green scarf and stringy white hair tucked in an apple-printed cap. There’s also a couple of other Pears she’d never gotten to know before, curly-haired adults and teens and kids. They wave at her, jubilant smiles on their faces. Winona romps circles around a corgi, the two dogs yapping excitedly at each other with wagging tails.

Smiling, Applejack waves back. Right, she’d nearly forgot. Their family, too, is a little bigger now.

~~~

“Can someone pass me the streamers?”

“I think this corner needs more balloons.”

“Hey, help me hold the other end of this…1, 2, 3!”

On Thursday afternoon, the hall of CHS is a flurry of activity. At first, it had just been the fifteen of them from Decor Club, but then the doors opened and more students came in armed with stepladders and boxes of decorations, ready to help.

Between everyone's networks of friends and Twilight's persuasion skills, they’ve managed to gather around twenty more students to pitch in. There’s many people who want this event to be a success as much as any of them, and Applejack has to admit that the extra help makes the job feel solvable–like a small herd of buffalo instead of the nine-headed hydra it had been before.

Right now things are kind of a mess, but a productive kind of mess. People on ladders pinning up wreaths of sparkly tinsel, people on the ground sorting out balloons by colour, people snipping out a billion shapes from construction paper. Familiar faces are all around. Bulk Biceps heaves a punch dispenser onto the designated food-and-drink table. She sees Lyra Heartstrings from the anthropology club tottering around the scene. Not all of them might be artistically inclined, but everyone can pinch off pads of blu-tack to stick paper cutouts to a wall.

Applejack's own friends are scattered across each corner of the hall. Rarity and her fashion club friends are gathered at the photobooth, holding up streamers of different types–crepe paper, glittery coils, multi-colour–and chattering noisily amongst themselves. Pinkie whizzes by on roller skates, arm-in-arm with Cheese Sandwich, who sprays a length of graffiti paint on a huge sheet of paper.

Applejack’s getting up to fetch an extra gluestick when she almost crashes into a boy with a brown bowl cut.

“Sorry,” Wizkid winces from behind a teetering stack of plates he was carrying. “Goddesses, I am such a klutz.”

“Not at all, I was the one who wasn’t looking where I was going,” Applejack says, reaching over. “Sorry, let me help you with that.”

Half of the plates secured in her arms, they walk toward the line of tables together. As they lay out the tableware, it occurs to Applejack that despite being clubmates, they haven’t really talked to each other about anything outside of club work. So she decides to strike up some conversation.

She picks a general question. “Are you excited for the Formal?”

Wizkid peeks up in surprise from behind a chair. He gives a sheepish, awkward chuckle as he arranges the napkins. “I’m more nervous than excited, to be frank.”

“Nervous that our decor won’t work out?” Applejack questions. “Don’t be, I think it’s looking great so far. With all the hands on deck, we’ll finish it in time no issue.”

“Ah, not about that,” Wizkid shakes his head. He lifts his gaze to somewhere across the hall. “I was just planning to ask someone to the dance.”

Applejack raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

Wizkid’s mouth pinches into a pout. “Why does everyone look so disbelieving… Okay, you have a point. He’s more likely to be the one asking me than me asking him. But I just wanna initiate something for once.”

“He?”

“Yeah.”

Applejack blinks, following Wizkid’s dreamy-looking gaze to a tall guy with curly blue hair wrestling a bundle of fairy lights. There’s no one else Wizkid could be looking at.

“You’re…uh, asking him as a friend?”

“No,” Wizkid says, “he’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Applejack says. “I didn’t know that you also…uh, that you were…”

“I’m bisexual, yeah,” Wizkid finishes for her. He chuckles.

“Oh, I see.”

“And you? Are you going to the Formal with anyone?”

“Ummm…”

“Any girl out there you’re fancying a chance with?”

Applejack flushes. “H-how’d ya know?”

“You said ‘also’ just now,” Wizkid smiles.

“...Ah,” Applejack says. “Reckon I’m not used to people bein’ so accepting, that’s all.”

“I mean, I think in Canterlot people are pretty okay with it,” Wizkid shrugs. “People still assume you’re straight by default, but most people leave us alone. Is there something bothering you?”

“Well…I dunno,” Applejack contemplates not sharing, but it’s not often she runs into a chance like this, to talk about this with someone who might understand. So she tells him. “I’ve just kept it a secret for so long. Only my family suspects, but they weren’t happy about it, especially my Granny, so I stopped, well, doing or mentioning anything of the sort. Like, now there is a girl, and… by now I’m pretty certain we both have feelings for each other, but I don’t know if I can go for it ‘cause of that, you know? How would I tell them?”

“You don’t have to tell anyone if you’re not ready,” Wizkid says. “And your safety comes first as well.”

Applejack's heard those stories before. She knows for a fact, though, that Granny would never kick her out of the house. But at the same time…

“...It'd break her heart,” Applejack says. “She'd never see it as normal. Never see me as normal. She'll think she brought me up wrong, or that the city was a bad influence on me. People in my village aren't much more accepting either, I don’t think.”

She remembers vividly middle school. Her middle school had been in Manehattan, and it was where she’d had her first big crush, pretty smiles and leather jackets. And then the fallout afterwards: a ripped-up Valentine’s card shoved at Applejack’s chest, the revoltion twisting her once-kind face. The gossip and rumours by the ‘nice’ people she’d trusted so earnestly.

She’s not in Manehattan anymore, but she’s too afraid of a similar reaction from her village, a place that, unlike Manehattan, she couldn’t just turn tail from. Now that they’re all older, Applejack’s not so scared of something like bullying now, but she knows enough to know she wouldn't be accepted the same if she married a woman instead of a man. It pricks something in Applejack to think that she might never be able to trust those closest to her since her birth with something so important to her.

“Well, I just wanted advice, I guess,” Applejack breathes. “Do you think it’s wise to still pursue a relationship with her?”

“People do date for a lot of reasons. There are some who say not to date someone you don’t see a future with, but I think we’re still young and it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy things for as long as they last,” Wizkid says. “If you want to make it a long-term thing though, you can leave little hints here and there to judge their reaction. Maybe one day they could change their minds.“

“Maybe one day,” Applejack agrees. “Well, as for you, go and get your man.”

Nodding, Wizkid salutes. Then, as Applejack’s turning away, she hears, “Go get your girl!”

Her face is instantly hot.

~~~

ME: Fluttershy

You said that I can talk to you about personal stuff, right

I thought I'd take you up on that

Only if you want to though

FLUTTERSHY: Of course!!
Do you want to call?

ME: yeah

Fluttershy's voice comes wobbling in over the receiver a moment later. “Hello, Applejack.”

“Hi there,” Applejack says. “I just wanted to talk because… uh. Well… man, where do I even start.”

“Mmhmm,” Fluttershy hums, a gesture for her to continue, despite her totally undignified beginning. Applejack doesn't deserve Fluttershy. She pauses to line up her thoughts in a row, then says:

“So like…you grew up with Rainbow Dash in Cloudsdale, right?” An affirmative noise from Fluttershy. “Yeah, so I reckoned you'd know her the best. And I guess, before I say anything else, I'll have to come clean about somethin’.”

She steels herself, filling her lungs with air. “I like girls.”

Silence.

“I mean, like-like,” Applejack decides to add. “Romantically. By the way.”

“...Oh!” Fluttershy says, after a moment. A longer, “Ohhhhhh.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Well, just that it explains- nothing!” Fluttershy says, not very convincingly. “I meant, thank you for telling me.”

“Please don’t tell anyone though, yet,” Applejack tacks on with haste. “I want to come out to each person in my own time.”

“Mm, of course,” Fluttershy promises. “Don’t worry, I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah, I hope yer really good at secrets, because here’s the next one,” Applejack says. “I like Rainbow, and I’m planning to tell her about it.”

“Uh huh.”

“.......Well,” Applejack doesn’t quite know what to do with herself now that she’s shared this information. “I guess I just wanted to ask if, you know, Rainbow might have, I dunno, said something?...”

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Fluttershy’s voice betrays a smile, “but I can say that you don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“Oh. Okay, cool,” Applejack says, giddy. “Thanks.”

~~~

Because Applejack is surrounded by bourgeoisie friends, she goes to the Fall Formal in a limousine instead of cramming her dress in her schoolbag and changing in the toilet stalls behind the cafeteria like she’d planned to.

Coming to school at night is always a rather exciting feeling. Applejack adjusts her dress awkwardly as she shuffles onto the short flight of concrete steps into the school with her friends after thanking Rarity’s chauffeur. Around them, other students are flurrying up the steps as well, dressed to the nines in tuxes and dresses small enough to graze the borderlines of school regulations—not that anyone’s really in the mood to enforce said regulations tonight.

Rarity had done an excellent job incorporating Applejack’s requests into her dress, and the final result is composed of a smart-looking, sleeveless green vest with gold buttons, and an inner cream-coloured bodice with puffed sleeves and a satiny gold butterfly bow at the neck. The ruffles of the forest-green skirt, hemmed with the same gold ribbon, brushes her mid-shins when she walks down the corridor leading toward the hall, short heels of her nicest-looking dress boots clicking on the tile.

Not a hint of lace. Applejack smirks.

After some registration procedures, they’re in the hall. Applejack’s already seen the decorated hall, of course, but it’s something else to be here now, with most of the big lights turned off, and replaced by the twinkle of the fairy lights wound around the pillars and the gigantic disco ball hanging from the centre of the ceiling, revolving as it spits out spots of neon light across the walls and the floor, gradually cycling through different colours.

And the tables, empty yesterday, are now laden with aluminum trays of food. The hungry devils of their pack immediately split off from the group, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie abandoning them for pizza bites and popcorn. Rarity is next to go, claiming she needs to serenade guys, tugging Fluttershy along by the arm for moral support. That leaves Applejack with Twilight, and they’re content to situate themselves by the drinks bar.

“This doesn’t really feel like a Fall formal,” Applejack says, making air quotes as she leans against the bar. The ‘bar’ is a long table with dispensers of various different drinks: lemonade, orange soda, raspberry punch. A bunch of guys are knocking back paper cups of the stuff, and from the way they’re screaming and laughing at the top of their lungs, you wouldn’t be able to tell it wasn’t alcohol they were chugging.

“None of these formals ever are,” Twilight says, taking an empty cup from the stack and pressing the tap for lemonade. Applejack gets a cup of the orange soda. She gives it a sip and winces. Shouldn’t have poured that much in the first go.

“Heh. Why, I bet that those research universities in Trottingham will have much fancier events than this,” Applejack remarks, swirling her soda around.

There’s a long pause as Twilight swallows her lemonade. “Oh. Actually, I might not be doing research in uni anymore.”

Applejack blinks. “Yer not?”

“Mhm,” Twilight says. “After doing some programmes in school, I just don’t think it’s what I really want to do.”

“Oh,” Applejack says. “Was there something else you wanted to do?”

Twilight looks down. “I’m actually not so sure. Is that surprising? I’ve wanted to do research my whole life, after all.”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s so strange. Whatever your reasons were, I’m sure you must have them,” Applejack shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, man. You’re smart. You can do anythin’. You’ll find something.”

“Ah,” Twilight says softly. “Thanks. I really appreciate it, Applejack.”

And it’s really something to think about, that even the likes of Twilight Sparkle is unclear on where she would be, when she always seemed like she had her entire future roadmapped and well-prepped for like she did her exams. It’s a comfort in a way, knowing that all of them are just young and inexperienced in the grand scheme of life, and they can not know what to do and it’s normal and completely fine.

It’s at this moment that Pinkie Pie swoops down and grabs Twilight. “Come on, what are you standing around for! Let’s dance!”

“Yer not takin’ me?” Applejack points at herself.

Pinkie jabs her finger in another direction. “Your own will be right with you in five chicken nuggets!”

“My… own?” Applejack ponders, heart beating faster. But Pinkie and Twilight are already gone.

A voice clears from behind her.

Applejack turns around and barely refrains from scrunching her cup into her fist.

“You.”

She nearly doesn’t recognise her. After all, she hasn't seen Lightning Dust in three proper years. She looks different after all this time. Gone is the aquamarine ponytail, replaced by a black-dyed bob, but the sharp cut of her face and narrow gaze are unmistakable.

“It’s me,” Lightning Dust agrees demurely.

Applejack narrows her eyes. “What do you want?”

“No need to be so unfriendly, Apple.” she sighs, eyes rolling. “I was young and stupid in first year. I can promise I'm not that same person anymore.”

Applejack regards her for a long second, parsing her tone for any sort of threat or ill intent laced within it. She comes up short.

She shrugs. “Question still stands.”

Lightning Dust sits down on a nearby stool, leaning her elbows on the table. “I just heard some things about you lately.”

Slowly, Applejack lowers her cup. “What things?”

“About you going missing for a week,” she says. “Not the full picture, I'm sure. But I overheard rumours about the big guy who showed up outside the gates and asked random students where you were. We thought he might've been a stalker or something at first.” She shrugs. “None of my business what happened to you exactly, but… I hope you're okay?”

Of all things, Applejack hadn't been expecting to hear that. “Well, yeah I am. Thanks.” A pause. Then, awkwardly, she tries to ask back, “...How's track?”

Lightning Dust shifts, folding her legs one over the other. “I was banned from track for a year because of the race. Even after that, no track team wanted to accept me. If they did, people wouldn't stop talking shit about me, and it pissed me off enough to make me quit.”

“You kind of got it coming,” Applejack says, blunt.

“I know that, jeez! You think I haven’t been told enough?” Lightning Dust snaps. “I just don’t think it’s fair one mistake I made when I was fourteen could determine the rest of my life.”

Applejack keeps silent, but she sees her point.

“Ugh, whatever. I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Lightning Dust sighs hotly and leans back to rake a hand through her hair. “Anyway, long story short, I don’t run anymore.”

“Really? Couldn’t ya just run on your own?”

Lightning Dust looks at her like she’s sprouted another head. “Are you daft? I just said I can’t compete!”

“You’d just quit if you couldn’t compete?”

She frowns. “What, you’re suggesting that I run for passion?” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

“Well, I heard you were the best runner from yer middle school and elementary school.” Applejack had learnt a thing or two after that day, when Rainbow had run a background check on her for curiosity’s sake. “You must’ve been running for a real long time. Surely you wouldn’t have stuck with it for so long if you didn’t like it.”

Lightning Dust scoffs. “Of course you’d be simple-minded enough to think something like that.” A pensive pause. “But I really did use to love running. I guess somewhere along the way, the competitions mattered more to me.”

“I just think it’s a plum waste that you stopped,” Applejack says. “I might’ve run competitively myself, had I the time for it. I think yer still plenty young, and that one mistake wasn’t really the end of your opportunity. Who cares if people talk?”

“So you’re saying I should just grow a thicker skin?”

“Yep,” Applejack says. “Grow a thicker dayum skin.”

At that, Lightning Dust throws her head back and chortles. “Pfffft-ahahahahh! I really just said all that just to get talked smack to by a farm girl!”

She recovers, rubbing at her glittering eyes. Applejack merely regards her.

“But you’re right. I didn’t come all this way just to be a washout.” Her grin is knife-sharp as she stands up to leave, and that’s the last Applejack hears from Lightning Dust for the year. As she watches her retreating figure, she can’t help but think that this girl really was just like Rainbow Dash.

Applejack downs the rest of the orange soda and throws the cup in a trashbag tied around a chair. She walks around for a bit, her eyes determinedly tracking the room, searching for someone like it’s second nature.

This time, she doesn’t have to look for long. In fact, she’s already making her way towards her, jostling past floral tablespreads and chairs draped in green and chatting teens to cross the hall.

Rainbow Dash’s dress is a peachy pink, the top half of it secured by two thin straps, while below the waist the skirt flares outward, overlaid by a sheer white gossamer that extends beyond the hem. A river of swallows are embroidered into mesh to look like they are flocking around the skirt. Applejack’s already seen Rainbow in her dress while at Rarity's house, but under the neons of the party lighting, the silver threads of the each swallow have an iridescent shimmer. And the seven colours of her hair—colours that Applejack put there with her own hands—are almost glowing, loosely braided over her shoulder and fastened with a silver clip.

Lords save her. Applejack can't believe she asked this girl to the dance.

“Enjoyed the chicken nuggets?” she teases when she spots the crumbs speckled around Rainbow’s lips.

“More than the raspberry punch, at least,” Rainbow says, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand.

“Feh. The orange soda was not much better, rest assured.”

Rainbow snickers, but narrows her eyes to glare off in the direction Lightning Dust had disappeared in. So she had seen her. “Was she bothering you?”

Her voice is low and threatening. Applejack can practically see the violence sparking in those deep rose eyes. Applejack could've swooned.

“She's changed. Kind of,” Applejack reassures her. “Still rude as all get out, but she wants to change, at least.”

“Huh,” Rainbow says.

Out of the corner of her eye, Applejack sees Wizkid with his arm around the tall blue-haired guy he’d had his eyes on in the hall. She watches as Wizkid tugs on that arm and whisks him away behind a pillar. And it’s like—shucks. If clumsy, timid Wizkid is putting himself out there, what in tarnation is Applejack doing?

Rainbow seems to be having similar thoughts, because she wastes no time in grabbing her arm. “Now, I seem to recall you owing me a dance.”

Applejack lets herself be led onto the dance floor, which is half of the hall marked off by a line of duct tape, already peeling off in several places by the shoes scuffed across it. There, it’s a mass of teenage bodies that grows thicker and thicker around Applejack as they weave their way deeper into the crowd. Finally, they’re somewhere that could roughly be called the centre of the mob.

Rainbow scoffs as she looks around them at the students with arms around each other and jumping up and down, out of sync from the pop music pumping from the speakers. “Psh, none of these people know how to dance.”

“Can you dance?” Applejack inquires.

“Obviously I can, I’m not lame. Check this,” Rainbow lets go of her arm and shooes her away with a flicking gesture. Applejack takes a few steps backwards, as much as she can in such a dense crowd of people, anyway. Rainbow begins to move, stepping around as she holds out her arms and bobs her head to the music which forces more of the crowd backward, making a little circle for them.

Rainbow’s dance can be described as jerky, with shoulders that move up and down in waves, legs that kick out at odd angles, her entire body in a state of constant motion. It's erratic and obviously made up on the fly, but there's a mesmerising quality to it that leaves Applejack unable to take her eyes off it.

At the end of it, Rainbow strikes a pose, chest puffed out like a proud rooster.

Applejack claps earnestly. “What type of dance is that?”

“Freestyle hiphop, baby!” Rainbow says. “Now your turn, AJ.”

“To be frank with ya, the only dance I’ve done before is square dancin’,” Applejack admits.

“Pfffft-” Rainbow breaks into a snort. “Square dancing? Really?”

Applejack puffs out her cheeks. “Square dancing’s a dance all the same!”

Rainbow giggles and gestures at her. “Well, go on then, do your square dance thing.”

“But I can’t square dance by myself,” Applejack frowns.

“Oh?” Rainbow arches her brows, eyes twinkling. “If you wanted to dance with me so bad, you could just say so.”

“T-t’ain’t what I meant!” Applejack’s face heats up. “A square dance has eight people in it. Four pairs to form the square.”

“Fine. Think you can make it work with two people?” Rainbow says, and proceeds to step very close to Applejack. Applejack has to keep herself from stepping back on instinct, taking deep, controlled breaths as she stares into Rainbow’s eyes.

“I guess…” Applejack scratches the back of her neck, hoping the heat worsening there is obscured by the dark lighting. “But it would be less like a square dance an’ more like a square circle.”

Rainbow scrunches her brows, then bursts out into a peal of sniggers at her slip-of-tongue. “You mean a circle dance? Ahahahahaaa—what's a square circle?”

“Screw you,” Applejack says, stepping forward to place her hands on Rainbow’s waist. She hopes they aren’t trembling from the nerves. “Hands on my shoulders, we’re gonna do a motherbuckin’ square circle.”

“Fine,” Rainbow says as her arms go wrapping around Applejack’s neck, “how do we do this.”

“Usually there’s a caller who calls out what we dance, but since we don’t have one I’ll do the callin’,” Applejack says, tightening her hold on Rainbow's waist. “Here we go.”

Applejack starts with the easy, self-explanatory moves, like circling to the left and right and walks forward-backward, side-to-side. Then they progress to swings and spins and the like. It’s rather funny doing these classic moves to pounding dubstep instead of jaunty acoustic, but music is music and the steps fall into its rhythm anyway, a strange, but not unpleasant twist on the dance.

Rainbow is a quick learner. After letting Applejack lead for a while, she switches the position of their hands and tells her, “I want to do calls this time.”

At first, it’s normal. Rainbow calls out a string of commands in random order, only occasionally calling a move by the wrong name. Then, as she gets the hang of it, Rainbow starts being the little troll that she is and does things like calling circle-left eight times in a row and butchering the names on purpose.

“Calling the allemande an alley man really isn’t that hilarious,” Applejack informs her.

“Whatever! Dorito!” Rainbow bellows in lieu of do-si-do. Applejack rolls her eyes hard as they turn towards each other, step past each other’s shoulders, and turn back around.

Meanwhile, the commotion they're stirring up draws the attention of the students around them. Excited grins are thrown their way, and the ones that had been jumping up and down screamed their encouragement at them. Some who had merely been standing around waving their arms half-heartedly began to jiggle their hips a little.

Soon, the noise around them grows too loud for Applejack to hear Rainbow’s calls even as she strains her ears. After several attempts to get her to call louder, they give up on it and start to dance without any commands, just going with the flow. Without any form of coordination, they keep stepping on each other’s feet, but Rainbow’s smile is electrifying, pure energy rippling through the air and the crowd around them, and Applejack really can’t bring herself to care about a little pain in her toes.

The songs come and they go. The people around them have also rotated out, fresh faces joining in on the fun. Applejack and Rainbow keep on dancing until Applejack feels like she might throw up her soda if she pants any harder than this, and Rainbow looks no less wobbly on her legs. Slowly, they pull themselves away from the centre of the crowd and into a darker, less packed corner.

Applejack’s all ready to collapse against the wall there when Rainbow says, “Not so fast.”

“You can go ahead and dance if you want. I’m plum tuckered out,” Applejack flaps her hand wearily at her.

Rainbow appears to rack her brain. Then, she smirks. “Guess I win, then.”

Applejack braces her hands on the wall. “W-what, since when was it a competition?”

“Since just now. But since you’re oh-so-tired, it’ll just have to end here-”

Applejack groans and hauls her own butt up. Rainbow really knows exactly what to say to get Applejack to do what she wants. “Fine. Just one more call.”

And Rainbow’s guiding her hands to her waist again. She leans in close.

“Lift me and spin me around,” she says, her face looking a little pink, though in the coloured lights it’s hard to tell, “like you did that time.”

Applejack nods, understanding what she means. She leans down to lock her arms around Rainbow, then tips back to lift her off the ground, bracing the weight upon her own chest. Though a thick layer of petticoated skirts is bunching up around their legs, Applejack can still feel the warmth of Rainbow's body where it's pressed against hers, hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder, leaving no space between them.

They’re whirling around until Applejack can’t tell if she’s dizzy from the spinning or from watching the way Rainbow's laughing: a beautiful, crackling thunderstorm of noise and emotion. Applejack's laughing, too, and she can feel the backs of their dresses flaring out in wide circles, and they must be a damn spectacle right then and there in the middle of their crummy CHS hall.

At the end, Applejack lifts their joined hands above their heads and Rainbow does a last spin, long braid whipping around her. When they’re face-to-face again, Applejack keeps one side of their hands clasped together while her other slips under Rainbow’s back. Then, she gently lowers Rainbow into a dip, concluding the dance.

They’re both breathing heavily. Applejack’s leaning over Rainbow, their fingers are interlaced, and Rainbow’s face is so close that Applejack can see the glitter behind her lashes, silver like the moon. Her eyes go wide, the darkness making it impossible to tell the colour of her irises, but flecks of disco light still dance within them like shots of light through a kaleidoscope. There’s nowhere else Applejack can look; nowhere else she wants to look. It’s then Rainbow’s lips part with a pop, as if she wants to say something, but she hesitates, gaze flickering all about—

In a rush of applause, the world around them comes flooding back. As Applejack rights Rainbow Dash onto her feet, she sees the students around them clapping. In the distance, she sees Pinkie Pie pumping her fist in the air and whooping in their direction, Cheese Sandwich and Twilight Sparkle by her sides. Wizkid passes on by and gives her a knowing wink.

But Rainbow Dash’s face looks tight. With a hurried ‘I gotta go’, she gives her a quick bow and turns around, slipping out and away through the crowd before Applejack can say a word.

Pushing past the people, Applejack follows her.

~~~

Applejack finds Rainbow Dash outside the hall. The hall’s back door opens into a walkway, and Rainbow stands there alone, leaning against the railing looking out, the cold wind ruffling her hair.

“Isn’t it cold out here?” Applejack comments, closing the door behind her, shutting out the noise of the party. Even in her vest and long skirt, she’s shivering. Not to speak of Rainbow’s own dress, which stops at the knee.

“It’s freezing,” Rainbow intones, turning to face Applejack.

“Is something wrong?” Applejack questions.

Rainbow exhales heavily, her breath a fog around her face. The silence isn’t really silent—from somewhere distant, the honking of cars and cacophonous cawing of crows drifts up onto the walkway, while muffled music issues from inside the hall. But Rainbow Dash never goes for this long without saying something, and the resulting quiet is so thick Applejack feels like she could hear her own heartbeat if she concentrated. Thump. Thump. Thump.

She turns to the railing again, drumming her knuckles on it. Applejack walks up to stand beside her. The cold breeze stings her cheeks when she cranes her head outward to gaze up at the dark sky, and sends her hair into a blonde tangle behind her.

From the corner of her eye, she sees Rainbow suddenly point up. “Star.”

Applejack sees it. One pinprick of light in the midst of vast, unforgiving space.

“You know, when we were all out in Appleloosa,” Rainbow began to talk. “I couldn’t sleep, so I snuck out of the farmhouse. ‘Course, I knew it’d be cold as hell in the desert at night, but the cold helps me clear my head sometimes. The moment I stepped outside though, there wasn’t a single light for miles. It was basically pitch black, and there were what sounded like howls coming from the forest. I decided I didn’t want to get mauled by some lion and started to head back in.

“But then, as I turned around, I looked up past the tree canopy and saw that the entire sky was blanketed in stars. Like someone had just dumped a bag of diamonds and glitter all over it or something. There was one part where the stars were clustered together so tightly it was like a river of light—I guess that had been the Milky Way, hadn’t it? For all the states and countries my parents took me to on vacation, I’d never seen anything like it before in my life.

“It was incredible, but I couldn’t enjoy it one bit.” she bites her lip. “I was too busy being confused and worried and then angry, about how you could turn your back on your family and friends and everyone in an instant. There I was, standing under the brilliant star-covered sky, but it was just cold and dark and lonely. And finally, I realised just how terrified I was, of losing you.”

She forced the last few words out, like it pained her to admit that. But it also sounded like something she had kept bottled up for far too long and had simply become tired of hiding.

Applejack’s head swims. “Losing me?”

“Losing all of you guys, I suppose,” Rainbow’s nails pick at her skin. “It started when I began preparing for the Wonderbolt tryouts. It was the first time I wanted something badly enough to work my hardest for it. But it came with sacrifice. It was putting boring work over hangouts, over and over again. I said to myself, it’s fine, once I get in I won’t have to do this again. But then it just never stopped. I spent less and less time with you guys, and,” she hesitates briefly, before putting out words slowly, “I wondered, if I kept going down this path, would I eventually become a stranger? Or could I already be one?”

Applejack’s own harsh words to Rainbow from not so long ago resurface in her head. Big talk, comin' from the one who's been a stranger the most outta all of us. But she knows that’s utterly wrong. Rainbow’s their dearest, most loyal friend, and she’s proven that more times than any of them can count.

“You’re not a stranger,” Applejack rebuts firmly. “You’ll never be.”

“That’s a nice thought, but what about in the future?” Rainbow Dash counters. “When we’re all graduated from this school, we won’t exactly be best friends forever, will we? Everyone will be busy with their careers and families and whatnot. As for me, I won’t even be in driving distance. We might well never see each other again.” She breathes out a laugh. “I just wish I didn’t have to choose between my lifelong dream and the people I care about.”

“Yeah, well…” Applejack shrugs. “That’s life, I guess.”

Rainbow exhales, smiling wryly. “Life, yeah.” She casts her glance far out. “You know, things like this never used to bother me. It wasn’t like I didn’t move all the time, but back then it was just me and my arse. No one to miss, no one to miss me. Easy.”

“Alas, miss High-an’-Mighty finally got friends.”

“I still had Fluttershy,” Rainbow protests, face flushing.

“That’s because Fluttershy is much too precious a sweetheart and puts up with anything, even the likes of Opalescence.”

“You did not just put me on the level of Rarity's demon cat.”

“Right, sorry. Yer worse.”

They share a brief laugh. The silence stretches on for a while.

“Rainbow, I’ll tell the truth,” Applejack says finally. “I always thought you were the one who would leave me behind. You were gonna be a big fancy Wonderbolt, while I was gonna be workin’ on my ol’ farm forever. I didn’t know you felt the same way.”

“That’s how you felt about me joining the Wonderbolts?” Rainbow widens her eyes, like she’s mentally scrolling back through the school year they’ve had so far. “Like I was ditching you?”

“Yes,” Applejack says, resigned.

“Oh,” Rainbow says faintly. “I had no idea. I always thought you were…super happy to be on your farm. I was kind of envious, actually.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“No, I mean like,” Rainbow pans her hands. “It was like you were so sure of what you would do. You knew your place in life already since you were a baby, while I spent most of the past twelve years fooling around until suddenly I had to really decide if my childhood dream was what I wanted to and could do for the next six decades.”

“Well, it ain’t that easy,” Applejack folds her arms. “If yer born and raised to do one thing in life, ya feel like that’s the only place you can go. That you’re expected to go. And until very recently, I thought that was just a fact of life I couldn’t change.”

Rainbow looks surprised. “It’s something… you want to change?”

“The city’s a place of opportunity,” Applejack smiles. “And I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading online. I realised that there are people out there who are trying to give those with circumstances like mine a choice, things that most of us would’ve only thought to be possible in our wildest dreams.”

“...Wow,” Rainbow utters, a genuine shine in her eyes. “That’s amazing, AJ. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, watch yer back, RD. One day I could be even more famous than you,” Applejack jibes, and narrowly dodges the punch Rainbow socks her way. She stuffs her hands in her vest pockets, still smiling. “But, yeah. It’s funny how different things can turn out to be if you dare to hope for them.”

Rainbow laughs, but then goes curiously quiet. The wind continues to rustle about them. Someone bursts out in laughter from within the hall, and car horns wail from somewhere further; but all that sounds so far away now.

“Dare to hope, huh,” Rainbow mutters into this quiet, her voice so soft it could’ve been drowned by the wind alone. “Hey, can you answer me something?”

Rainbow's voice is serious, not a lick of the impulse or carelessness that often peppers her speech. Like this is something she's turned the words for over and over again in her head.

“Of course,” Applejack replies.

“Why’d you ask me to the dance?” she asks.

“.........” Applejack shudders. If the blustering wind wasn’t enough to get through Applejack’s thick skin, this certainly is. “Don’t ask such stupid questions,” she grumbles eventually.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

And it’s easier than she thought it would be. Applejack may not be the world’s perfect, nor its most honest person, but telling this one truth is just natural. Like it’s something she’s always meant to say to her, and something that she’ll want to say to her again a thousand times now, if she would allow her.

Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash has gone completely still, her face almost as red as the poppy stripe of her hair.

“Well, don’t just leave me hanging,” Applejack says. “Say somethin’. You know me—I want the truth, and nothing less.”

“I like you too!” Rainbow blurts, with cheeks that might as well be on fire. “Of course I like you. I've liked you for goddess knows how long, Applejack. Years, probably, but it feels like it’s been forever.”

And see, it’s one thing to suspect something. It’s one thing to wonder if the flirtatious banter was just jokes, to indulge in the casual friendly contact, to scream mentally about the what-ifs and the what-if-it’s-nots. It’s an entirely different ordeal to hear it said aloud, so plainly.

Distantly, Applejack thinks her insides have been replaced by an active volcano.

“...So what now?” Rainbow lets out an awkward laugh.

“For starters, I would very much,” Applejack says honestly, “like to kiss you right now.”

“Y-y-you—” Rainbow sputters. Her embarrassment is deathly cute, and Applejack is learning very quickly exactly how she can get that rise out of her. “You can’t just say that!”

“Is that a yes or no?”

“Yes,” Rainbow says, breathless.

Applejack has never kissed anyone before. She’s certainly never kissed a girl before. She has no go-to method, no instruction, and barely an inkling of how it’s supposed to go. But before her brain can worry itself into rot, she’s already got her hands cupping a warm face, and she tilts her head in to meet Rainbow there.

Multicoloured hair tickles her cheeks. Rainbow tastes sweet as sugar, and her breath like raspberry punch, hot and ghosting over Applejack’s lips. It’s over as quickly as it started, but even as Applejack pulls away, her chest is impossibly light, like there’s all this warmth spreading out from inside her till it reaches the tips of her fingers, stretching the corners of her mouth, so much that she feels like running to the roof and screaming to let it all out.

Rainbow’s simply staring at her. She touches her fingers to her lips, lingering there, as if still in disbelief about what just happened. Then, she throws herself at Applejack, clutching her arms around her shoulders to kiss her again, wild and desperate and passionate in all the ways that Rainbow Dash is.

“How could you,” she complains when they part for breath, “like me back all this time, and not say a word?”

“Neither did you,” Applejack shoots back.

Rainbow hauls the collar of Applejack’s front in, burying her face in the crook of her neck. “Oh my god. Everything makes sense now. What the hell. I thought there’d never be a chance that you would reciprocate.”

“Am I really that good at hiding?” Applejack is more confused than anything at that.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow groans, running a hand over her face. “I guess maybe I just assumed that if you had something to say, you’d just say it straight.” She fidgets. “Well, not straight. But you know what I mean.”

“You’ll find that I’m not always honest,” Applejack says, toeing the floor. “As for you—wait.” Her thoughts screech to a grinding halt. “All those times you flirted with me, you weren’t just joking?”

“I was playing it safe,” Rainbow says, standing up straight again to look at her. “If you called me out on it, I would’ve easily claimed them as jokes. And plus, it always starts as jokes until they’re not.” She bites her lip. “I didn’t dare say anything for real because I was scared of messing it up and losing you for good. I’m still scared now. Even if we got together now, it’d only be for half a year.”

“I thought about that too. But, land’s sakes,” Applejack says, reaching out to hold Rainbow’s hand. “I want to have this. I’m darn sick of pretending I don’t, and sicker still of comin’ up with reasons why I can’t or why I shouldn’t. Even if it’s for half a year, I want it. And after that… we’re graduating in half a year, not dying, so don’t make it sound like we are. I rightly think there’s a chance for us if we try.”

Rainbow stares down at their joined hands. “It’s going to be difficult.”

“And when have you ever backed down from a challenge?” Applejack squeezes her hand. “Don’t worry yer rainbow noggin’ so much, I’m supposed to be the worrywart here.”

“...Right,” Rainbow exhales.

They both look up. Their gazes land upon the single star that glows in the sky. Light from billions and billions of kilometres away, piercing into their atmosphere. Though its battle against Canterlot’s lights is utterly insignificant, it still burns bright and unflinching for anyone who would care to look upon it from anywhere on this planet. Applejack kind of admires it, for that.

“Even if you can’t always see me, I’ll be with you,” Applejack lets slip, eyes still on the sky. “If you want to fly, I’ll run.”

“I could never lose sight of you if I tried,” Rainbow says. “You’re my brightest star.”

And Applejack’s breath catches in her throat as she whips to look at Rainbow again, at her shining rose eyes, her messy colourful hair, the smile on her face. Everything in her wants to reject that notion, call it silly and laugh it off. Of course Rainbow’s the brightest star, and Applejack’s the one faded into obscurity—that’s the way it’s always been. But after what they’ve been through, she wants to believe that, one day, she could burn as bright in her own way, right alongside Rainbow.

“I didn’t know romance was gonna make you such a big sap,” she snorts.

Rainbow sticks out her tongue. “Well, get used to it. It’s gonna be another half-year of this.”

Applejack can’t stop the huge grin blooming to her face. So she doesn’t.

“A whole life more of this,” she corrects.

“A whole life, huh,” Rainbow Dash hums. “That sounds nice.”

And that night, and the night after that, and the nights that followed…

…Applejack dreams.

Author's Note

Don't let your colours bleed into grey
We've got each other and chances to take
Yeah, you've got bigger dreams
So, keep on believin'.

— "I'll Chase the Sky" (MLP Movie 2017)

.... We did it!!!
It's been such an unforgettable journey with all of you. CTS started as 'I need someone to write an Appledash high school au longfic' and 'Applejack has so much potential as a character I need someone to write her POV so badly', and I guess that someone ended up being me. If you've stuck around till the end of the story despite my glacial writing pace (Sprinto had me clocking 1 word per hour sometimes, I kid not), I am deeply grateful. This story ended up becoming something quite personal and if this meant something to you as well, I'll have done my job. :>

There's still an epilogue. I think. It'll be a look into the future. But their fates have always been meant for the reader to decide, and thus the story's true ending lies here. So, thank you for having me.

Epilogue

About One Year Later.

The campus of the university of Cloudsdale is beautiful in autumn. Marble arches and ridged white pillars are beswept in the crisp reds of fallen leaves, while the trees planted around the bubbling stone fountains are themselves caught aflame with colour in the afternoon sunlight, their rustling canopies reflected in the glass windows of the buildings surrounding them.

Applejack steps out from the lecture theatre out in the midst of about a hundred other students, spilling out from the doors onto the wide stone pavement, where more leaves still crackle under two hundred shoe-soles, stomping rapidly onward to their respective destinations. The people here walk fast. Applejack could match their pace if she wanted, but a lot of the time she prefers to take it slow.

But today’s an exception to that rule.

“You’re walking really quickly today, Applejack,” notes Sunbeam, one of her classmates and closest friends in class. “That eager to get out of class?”

“Or maybe she’s going somewhere,” another friend, Caramel Swirl, suggests. In the background, Minuette and Ivory Key discuss what they’re going to eat for lunch at the canteen, talk of curry and crèpes and bingsoo.

“You’re all wrong,” interrupts Honey Maple, face stoic as always as she sips on her espresso. “She only has that look on her face when she’s going to see her girlfriend.”

Applejack draws her collar tighter around her neck, but judging by her friends’ delighted glances, it’s not doing anything hide the flush she feels in her cheeks. “Surely you can’t tell from just that.”

“Were we talking about Applejack’s girlfriend?” Ivory Key leaps into the conversation, peering over at Applejack. “Oh my goddess, she’s so red. Stop. Stop being so cute.”

“Let me see!” Minuette says next, and her eyes widen. “Oh my goddess. I have to stop being single. Ivory, please date me. We should all just date each other, actually.”

As Minuette and Ivory Key continue to bicker about hypothetical living arrangements, Applejack finds an opening to slip away and out through the gates, stifling her laughter. Her friends here may be different from the ones she has from Canterlot High, but she’s come to love them just as dearly.

~~~

Last spring, Applejack and her five friends graduated from high school. Soon after was results day. Then uni offers for interviews and admissions came rolling in, and after further discussion with her family, she made the final decision to attend college in Cloudsdale, for a combination of reasons like distance from Ponyville and their rural scholars programme. With the reunion of the Pears and Apples, Sweet Apple Acres became a lot more stable and less dependent on Applejack, which eased Applejack’s worst fears of leaving home for too long.

Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash was already headed to the Wonderbolts HQ and flight schools in Cloudsdale. This made for a neat coincidence which allowed them to spend the past year together, seeing each other whenever they could squeeze time out of each of their busy schedules.

But of course, coincidences are coincidences; they don’t keep happening forever.

When Applejack steps off the tram that had taken her from the busy university district to the quieter, suburban area of Cloudsdale, Rainbow Dash is waiting for her at the tram stop, her technicolour hair conspicuous among the bobbing heads of the crowd. She’s in a cropped white turtleneck and ripped denim shorts, a wallet chain dangling from its pocket. It’s a cute look on her, if atrociously thin for the weather, but Rainbow’s lived here all her life—she’s probably used to it.

Already smiling, Applejack tilts her hat at her in greeting, ignoring the stares of the commuters around her. Her country Stetson might stick out like a sore thumb amidst the caps and sunhats of the locals, but Tallulah had stayed on in Ponyville, stayed on in Canterlot, and certainly stays on here.

Rainbow smiles back when she catches sight of her. At her briskest pace, Applejack crosses the platform and sidles up to her, leaning in close to plant a kiss on her cheek.

“Your last day here, huh,” she says.

Rainbow nods, linking their hands together. “Let’s make the most of it.”

In the past year, they’ve made countless memories together in this city and its various locations. Today, they visit the park, which had been one of their most frequent haunts. There, they reminisced as they retraced the trails they loved to race along, as they sat on the meadow by the waterfall where they’d had picnics, and as they scaled grassy hills, remembering the times when they would spread out sheets at the top and lay down next to each other, chatting until the sun went down.

Cloudsdale was always as hopelessly starless as Canterlot, but Applejack had never felt lonely. Not with Rainbow by her side.

Yet tomorrow, Rainbow will be in Vanhoover, undertaking a six-month-long training course in prep for the Wonderbolts. Six months of not seeing Rainbow in person, and this won’t be the last time she’ll be away for a long time, neither. The whole while, Applejack keeps gripping Rainbow’s hand tight, trying to commit to heart the feel of her palm in hers. They’ll still be able to call and text, of course, but both of them still can’t help but attempt to fill up on the physical memories to sustain them on Rainbow’s time away.

The end of the day creeps up on them all too fast. Rainbow looks at her watch and says, “I have to go meet my parents for dinner.”

“Oh, alright,” Applejack shuffles her feet. “Bye then.”

But Rainbow glances up at her, and her mouth opens up in a question: “Would you like to join us?”

~~~

At first, Applejack had refused to come along. If Rainbow’s family wasn’t expecting her, they wouldn’t have her share of food, she reasoned. But Rainbow said next that she had already told her parents Applejack was coming.

“You shouldn’t have done that. What if I’d said no?” Applejack huffed.

“I knew you wouldn’t refuse me,” Rainbow said, widening her eyes.

Applejack gave her a flat stare.

“Okay, fine. I would’ve just eaten two portions of dinner. No biggie.”

And so they walk down a narrow street flanked by rows of white semi-detached terrace houses and red trees. Rainbow punches something into the numberpad by the big locked gate, and it squeaks as it slides open. Applejack follows Rainbow past the two cars parked out front and up onto the porch, peeling off her shoes in the entryway before stepping into the living room.

Rainbow waves a hand at the couch for Applejack to put her things down, a white leather thing with matching cushions that sits on a blue rug in front of the television behind a coffee table. Meanwhile, Rainbow stands on her tiptoes to grab a pellet-filled container from the top of a cupboard and disappears into the yard, presumably to feed her tortoise.

Applejack stands around awkwardly in the living room until Rainbow’s mother ambles out from the kitchen with a cup of water in hand. She’s a short, skinny woman with peach-coloured hair, beaming from ear to ear as she sweeps Applejack into a hug without warning.

“Applejack! It’s so good to finally meet you. Rainbow’s told us so much about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Nothing but,” Rainbow’s mother affirms, still beaming. She passes the cup into Applejack’s hands. “Here, drink up. The weather outside’s hot today. Rainbow’s dad is still cooking dinner.”

“Is it spaghetti bolognese?” Rainbow calls when she re-enters the house and sniffs the air. “Definitely spaghetti bolognese.”

“Her father makes a mean bolognese,” Rainbow’s mother says.

“Only thing he makes.” Rainbow smells like tortoise and grass when she reaches Applejack’s side and returns the container to the cupboard.

“Well, I was surprised to hear y’all were cookin’,” Applejack remarks. “Rainbow said y’all usually eat takeout.”

“Yes, most of the time we’re too busy,” Rainbow’s mother says. “But takeout is no way to treat a guest, now is it?” Her smile broadens as the door to the kitchen swings open, releasing the thick aromas of minced beef and tomato. “Have a seat, darling, we’ll serve you. As for you,” the woman reaches up to pull Rainbow’s ear, eliciting a squeak from the girl, “go take a shower before joining us, good heavens, you smell like a factory for tortoise poop.”

Rainbow’s father does, indeed, make a ‘mean’ bolognese. The sauce is rich with flavours that Applejack can tell has been simmered for hours to bring out, the best of garlic and olive oil married in one hearty gravy. Only Applejack’s good manners keep her from stuffing her mouth with the entire plate. Rainbow Dash, once returned from her shower, takes considerably less precaution, plunging into the chair and slurping up the pasta as if she hasn’t eaten in days.

Rainbow’s father sits across from them next to Rainbow’s mother. The man is stout, his hair a combed-back sweep of indigo and chin adorned with a dark stubble. An easygoing smile rests on his broad face, a twinkle in his eyes just like the one in Rainbow’s mother’s.

He tilts his head at Applejack. “Well, how do you like it?”

“It’s delicious, sir,” Applejack says with all sincerity. “Thank you for so kindly takin’ the trouble to cook for me.”

“Oh, no need for that, it was no trouble at all,” Rainbow’s dad says, but he’s smiling anyway, turning to Rainbow. “She’s polite, huh. Not like a certain someone I know.”

Rainbow pouts and begins to slurp… slightly less noisily.

“Even though we don’t cook very often, this is his specialty dish. That’s why it’s good,” Rainbow’s mother says. “You’re living on your own here, aren’t you? Do you usually cook or eat out?”

The conversation continues with Rainbow’s parents asking the normal introductory questions. Does she cook or eat out? Cook, it’s what she’s used to. What is she studying? First year in Engineering at the University of Cloudsdale. How’s she finding it? Tough at times, but really interesting. Does she miss her friends? Yes, they still do their best to keep in contact. So on and so forth.

A couple of questions about their dating life are next. None of them invasive, thankfully. And then comes the question, “Have you told anyone else? About you two?”

Their friends, yes. Rainbow and Applejack had announced it to the four other girls sometime during the last semester of high school. They were surprised but supportive. (Maybe a little too supportive, in fact. On a day when Applejack was over at Rainbow’s house for video games, Rainbow had opened the mailbox to a package from Pinkie Pie. She’d brought it in and, while sifting through its contents on the couch, stopped short at the last item, blushed the most furious shade of red, and then shoved it all the way back in the bottom of the bag, muttering under her breath.)

As for Applejack’s family…

“My brother pretty much knew before I even told him,” Applejack says. “I told my Granny and lil’ sis before I left for Cloudsdale. Apple Bloom was a tad confused, but didn’t make a fuss. Granny… she didn’t really, understand, but she asked me if I was happy. I said yes. She took a while considering that. The next day, she told me that if I was happy, then it was something she could live with.”

“I see,” Rainbow’s mother says. “I know it isn’t easy for you girls, but we both support you two. In fact, I think I’m gonna have to shovel talk Rainbow instead of you.” Rainbow Dash makes a noise of complaint, to no effect. Rainbow’s mother’s beam only widens. “Take good care of her for me, will you?”

Applejack hides her smile with her pasta-wound fork as Rainbow whines.

~~~

The airport terminal is full of people when they walk in from the taxi drop-off, Rainbow Dash rolling along her suitcase, while Applejack is mostly empty-handed, save for a day satchel. She accompanies Rainbow as she gets her boarding pass and checks in her luggage with all the smoothness of a seasoned traveller.

The departure hall is just ahead. In a few hours, Rainbow will board her flight, and in a few hours more she’ll be in Vanhoover, flying her own little plane over its picturesque mountains, sprawling forests and crystal oceans.

“I’ve got something for ya,” Rainbow says. Before Applejack can blink, Rainbow’s tossing something towards her. On reflex, she reaches out to catch it from the air.

Looking down, Applejack finds in her hands a small paper bag. Rainbow gestures at her to open it, so she does, carefully peeling away the lip of tape. Inside, a variety of different things lie inside, that Rainbow names as she goes through them.

A folded piece of paper… “That’s a letter. Write back to me, yeah?”

“Who in this day and age writes snail mail?”

“Come on! It’ll be cool! You get to use stamps!”

Applejack rolls her eyes and sighs. Next is a woolly, striped scarf of alternating red and green.

“I saw it in a market and thought of you,” Rainbow supplies.

“Okay, but like… why?”

“‘Cause I’m always thinking of you~~”

“...”

“.........Fine. Because it was red and green, like apples.”

Applejack rolls her eyes harder. As she’s folding the scarf and letter back into the bag, she notices something small gleaming at the bottom.

Carefully, Applejack takes it between her fingers and pulls it out. The wreaths of clouds engraved on the metal badge are still shiny as ever, like it’s regularly polished. It’s the same one that Rainbow always kept pinned on her bag flap since the day they’d met, the one bearing the crest of Cloudsdale. “This is…”

“Ah, that. I got it from a elementary school trip to the museum. Not that the trip itself was very special, but back then I put it on my bag and there it stayed. I’ve had it for a really long time now,” she hears Rainbow pause. “It… helped me kind of remember where I’m from, even when my family moved all over the place.”

“And you’re giving it to me?”

“I’m entrusting you with it,” Rainbow says. She bites her lip next, shoving her hands in her pockets like she’s nervous. Finally she exhales, “...That badge’s like home to me. So when I see you again, it’ll be like coming home.”

“...Jeez,” Applejack chuckles, lowering her head as the sheer sentiment of it sinks in, a buzzing warmth close to her heart. “Now my gift seems lame in comparison.”

Rainbow cocks an eyebrow. “I gave you a scarf because its colours were vaguely like apples. It really can’t be that bad.”

With a soft laugh, Applejack unbuttons her own satchel and lifts her own gift from inside. She hands it to Rainbow.

It’s a wooden model of a plane, no larger than the size of a single hand. The design is simple, with just a basic fuselage, wings and tail. Still, it had taken Applejack a solid week to create out of ice-cream sticks and white glue.

“...Yeah, I know it’s not that great,” Applejack tries to say as Rainbow stares down at the model in her cradled hands. “I was gonna paint it too, but I ran out of time—”

“—No, it’s wonderful. I love it. Thank you,” Rainbow breathes, turning the model plane about in her hands. She pauses. Applejack realises, as Rainbow looks at it and looks at her, that her eyes are glimmering, trembling. It’s as if the reality of what the next six months will be is only now truly sinking in for her, as it is for Applejack. Yet time and tide can only wait for so long, and Rainbow has really got to get going soon.

Applejack holds out her arms. Rainbow steps into her embrace, leaning against her with her whole body, her thrumming heartbeat quick on her sternum. Applejack hugs Rainbow close, running her hands through waves of spectral hair.

“I’m going to miss you, so much,” Rainbow shivers.

“Me too,” Applejack sighs. “When you get back here, bring the model plane, will ya? I’ll finish it. It’s a promise.”

Sniffling, Rainbow nods and wipes at her eyes as they part. Applejack’s not crying, but her eyes prick anyway.

“Guess I’ll see ya around, RD,” Applejack calls out at last. And when she says that, she believes it. That no matter what obstacle stands in their way, they’ll face it together—and when they’re together, it’s like the entirety of the world lies below their racing feet—things like time and distance just seem so very small.

Rainbow Dash musters a smile.

“See you again,” she rasps. “It’s a promise.”

And oh, Applejack knows she will.