The Refrigerator Light

Chapters

Friday afternoon
Friday evening
Saturday morning
Saturday afternoon
Saturday evening
The Refrigerator Light
Sunday
The Clearing

Friday afternoon

“So what are we looking at, again?”

Applejack smirked. “Feeling cheeky today, aint’cha?”

Ember smirked back. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m wondering where’s this grand, secluded cabin that you promised was ‘just a lil’ ways off’ from your farm, ‘cause I’m pretty sure this is a toolshed.”

“And you ain’t gonna poke inside an’ check out all the hard work I put into gussyin’ it up?”

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Ember—Lord of Dragons, Queen of the Chasms and a geopolitical leader on par with the head of Equestria itself—tightened her red scarf slightly and poked her head through the door of the rickety, dilapidated hovel that Applejack had claimed was a cabin. Said Lord of Dragons subsequently almost jabbed herself in the eye with an upturned rake handle, and her attempt at batting it away dislodged a couple of garden trowels from a nearby shelf and sent them clattering to the floor.

“What the—” Ember spun around, catching Applejack in the act of tugging her green scarf up towards her mouth and trying desperately to suppress a fit of giggles. “...you sneak! This is a toolshed!”

Applejack lost it. Sides heaving, she laughed like a pony who’d had nothing to laugh about for some time: a reckless, wheezy affair that almost culminated in a bout of hiccups and the dislodging of her weatherbeaten hat. It might not have been infectious, but it was amusing in and of itself, and by the time Applejack came down from her laughing fit Ember found herself chuckling in spite of her indignation.

“Couldn’t…hee…couldn’t help myself. Sorry, sugarcube.” Applejack said, not looking in the least bit apologetic. A reply, Ember decided, that could only be properly responded to with a ferocious bout of noogies. Before Applejack could respond, Ember was on her like a flash, trapping Applejack in Equestria’s least convincing headlock and grinding her knuckles into Applejack’s scalp.

“Sure you couldn’t! And I can’t help myself, either!” Ember cackled as Applejack squirmed in her grip. It was a similarly unconvincing squirm—Mighty as the Lord of Dragons was, it was patently obvious that a lifetime of farm work meant that Applejack could throw Ember flat on her back in under five seconds.

“Consarn it, Ember!” Applejack chuckled, still squirming. “That ain’t no way to treat a lady!”

“A lady, huh?” Ember pulled away. “Kinda weird hearing you say that, no offense. I’d sort of expect that coming from that ribbon-haired friend of yours, but not you.”

Applejack quirked an eyebrow. “And what didja figure I’d say?”

“Something like ‘That ain’t no way to get a pig in a poke an’ wrassle like a rodeo,’ or something. I dunno, you’re the one who talks funny.”

“An’ you’re the one who eats glittery rocks. I don’t think I’m the strange one here, Sugarcube. Besides, what you just said didn’t make a lick of sense.”

Ember grinned impishly. “So what would make sense, then? In your funny farmyard language.”

“Well…” Tapping her chin for a moment and looking off to the side in mock thoughtfulness, Applejack paused for a moment before trotting up to Ember and grabbing her claw in one hoof. “How about ‘That ain’t no way to treat your gal?’ ”

A slight breeze kicked up, scattering dead leaves on the forest floor and plucking scarlet leaves off of their branches. Ember didn’t reply for a second or two, before her grin softened and she gave Applejack’s hoof a little squeeze.

“ ‘Your gal,’ huh? I think I can work with that” Ember replied. “Now how about we stop taking a tour of the toolshed and take a look at where we’re sleeping tonight?”

“This, uh…” Ember’s mouth gaped slightly. “This looks like more than just a place to sleep for the night.”

“What were you expectin’? A shack an’ a couple of cots?” Applejack nonchalantly stepped inside, expertly tossing her hat on a nearby rack.

“I mean, if you were spending the weekend at my place, it’d probably be in a cave. Maybe with a cot, if I remember it.” Ember trailed behind Applejack, looking around as if struggling to take it all in. “This is something else.”

“It ain’t a castle, you know.” Applejack rolled her eyes and hopped up on a stool next to a countertop that looked solid enough to withstand a hurricane. “I just wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t be missin’ anything while I was here. A little home away from home, if you will.”

“And you made this all by yourself?”

“ ‘Course I did!”

“You built the floors, the walls, the roof? Installed the windows and doors? Moved in all the counters and furnishing and…” Ember’s claw glided over the surface of a varnished table. “I’ve seen pony houses that looked worse than this. No way you did this on your own.”

“Sugarcube, what matters wasn’t that I made it, it was why. And the why was ‘cause it made me feel good to make it. I like takin’ my time to take what looks like a whole bunch of nothin’ and turn it into the sort of thing that nobody would be able to believe I made with my own hooves. ‘Specially if I get to enjoy it afterward.” With a self-satisfied sigh, Applejack trotted over to a bulky white refrigerator and pushed the door open, before pulling out a jug of something brown and opaque. “Cider?”

“Heck yeah.” Ember sauntered over by Applejack, drumming her talons on the varnished table. “Wait, you managed to get one of those powered up, too? Where are you getting the electricity from?”

“Generator in the back room. Keep it hidden ‘cause it ain’t the prettiest to look at.”

“Whoof.” Ember eyed the fridge. “And the fuel?”

Applejack chuckled. “Toolshed. Should last through the weekend.”

“You really did think of everything.” Ember shook her head, staring at Applejack with dumbfounded bemusement. “That said, I still refuse to believe that you built this solely for the satisfaction of building something.”

“Oh?” Applejack opened a nearby cupboard and pulled out a mug. “So what d’you figure my ulterior motive is, then?”

“Same as anycreature else. Desire for validation and the appreciation of others. Even dragons get that way sometimes, and if I’ve learned anything about ponies in general it’s that you all run on wanting to love and be loved.” Ember pointed at the mug. “That for me?”

“You bet.” Applejack grinned as she poured out a mug full of cider and offered it to Ember, who took a fairly eager sip.

“Mmm.” Ember set the mug down and wiped her mouth with the back of her claw. “Pretty good. Not the best thing I’ve tasted, but pretty good.”

“Oh?” Applejack replied, arching an eyebrow. “An’ what do you think tastes better than—”

Ember closed the distance in one quick stride, grabbed Applejack underneath her forelegs, hefted her into the air and kissed her.

The effect was instantaneous. Applejack went limp for a moment or two, melting in Ember’s grip and seeming utterly unable to fight back; then, as if fueled by some powerful outside force, she grabbed Ember tightly around the back and leaned in, matching Ember’s hunger with her own ravenous affection. The cabin fell silent, save for the ticking of a clock, and it took several seconds for Ember to come back up for air.

“Missed me, huh?” Ember chuckled softly.

Applejack grinned, a distinct blush colouring her cheeks. “Naw. Clearly I just wanted to get a taste of the cider on your teeth.”

“Be careful about what you say,” Ember replied. “Otherwise I might have to kiss you again and give you another ch—”

This time Applejack leaned in and pressed her lips against Ember’s, and the room fell back into silence.

“...Can’t tell you how much I needed that,” Applejack admitted, tugging her green scarf a little looser as autumn leaves crunched under her hooves.

Ember flailed as a couple of red leaves drifted down around her, trying in vain to snatch one right out of the air. “You certainly seemed like you did. Every time I see you these days, you always act like every kiss is the first time you’ve been kissed and also the best kiss in the world.”

“You make it feel like the first time every time” Applejack chuckled, cheeks still pink.

Ember grinned impishly. “And the best in the world?”

“Do I really gotta answer that one?”

“Not if you don’t want me to kiss you again.”

“You’d threaten your host like that?” Applejack turned around, beaming. “Ain’t you the cruelest thing.” A breeze kicked up, sending leaves scattering into the air and briefly framing Applejack in a photoesque manner: a still figure with windswept mane and a slightly crooked hat, immersed in the essence of autumn.

For a moment, Ember froze. Then she crossed the distance and rested her claw lightly on Applejack’s shoulder, talons brushing up against her blonde tresses. “Yeah. I’ll always be cruel for you.”

Applejack’s cheeks went a little redder, and the breeze around them whistled, kicking up dead leaves around them in a little whorl. “Well, ah…Thanks, sugarcube.”

“Don’t mention it.” With a little smirk, Ember pulled her claw away and stretched her arms. “Mmm. So you never mentioned where exactly we were going, besides something about bluffing.”

“Not bluffin’. A bluff,” Applejack emphasized. “Lil’ cliff-like thing you get around rivers an’ oceans. Good vantage point for lookin’ out over a forest.”

“You could just call it a cliff.” Ember swatted at another floating leaf, once again failing to snatch it out of the air.

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t be doin’ it the right way.” Applejack cocked her head slightly. “If I’m gonna use a term, shouldn’t I use the right one?”

Ember snorted, beginning to slowly amble along their path again. “You sound like one of your two purple friends. The bossier one.”

“Twilight?” Applejack snorted good-naturedly, matching Ember’s pace. “You really gotta figure out the difference between her an’ Starlight, sugarcube.”

“I keep telling you! They look exactly the same and act exactly the same. They basically have the same name, too.” Ember rolled her eyes. “Besides, I’m not sure that you of all ponies should be lecturing me. Have you figured out the difference between Flicker and Flare yet?”

“Got me there,” Applejack chuckled. “I can’t say they don’t look the same to me, either.”

Ember kicked a pebble on the path as they walked, which bounced twice before veering off into shrubbery and disappearing from view. “We’ll chalk it up to the sandstone trying to call the shale soft, okay? My point still stands - you sound like the bossy purple one.”

“What, about natural terms?”

“Yeah. Not that it’s a bad thing.” Ember reached forward and tousled Applejack’s hat, eliciting a chuckle out of the mare. “The way you get about some of the nature and farming things you gush over is easy to love.”

Still rosy-cheeked, Applejack scratched the back of her head. “Well, shucks. I just figured, y’know…somepony’s gotta love the different things in life. If not me, then who?”

“Who indeed.” Ember’s eyes darted to the side, before - once again, swatting a hand towards a falling leaf and grasping at nothing.

“Okay, my turn for a question” Applejack interrupted. “What in tarnation are you swattin’ at? I ain’t seen mosquitos or anythin’ like that out here.”

“You think a couple of stinging insects are going to bother a queen with scales all over her body? Please.” Ember shook her head. “Nah, I’m trying to catch a falling leaf.”

“Uh…why?”

“Because the pink one told me the last time I visited you that if you catch a falling leaf, you get to make a wish. And I figured, what the heck, I’m not going to complain about free wishes.”

“Well, then…” Applejack readjusted her hat. “What’cha gonna wish for?”

“Can’t tell you, or else it won’t count. That’s what the pink one said. Besides, it’s a moot point until I catch a wish anyway.” Ember yawned. “But we can do that while we walk. It’s not like I’m going to grab any leaves with my feet, anyway.”

“Fair enough.” Applejack turned back to the path, and the two pressed on.

“Wow…”

The stone jutted out over dozens of meters of air; a drop off of the ledge would have done more than simply take the breath from a pony’s lungs. The view was perfectly capable of doing that on its own; a vast, sprawling landscape of oranges, reds and yellows that blended together into a patchwork quilt covering the dusty earth.

“...I don’t get it,” Ember admitted after a second or two.

“You ain’t ever seen trees before?”

“No, not that, dingus.” Ember aimed a playful swat at Applejack’s head, and the pony nimbly ducked her head aside.

Applejack chuckled and readjusted her hat. “So what don’tcha get then, charcoal noggin?”

“Look, I’ve got wings that can traverse literal countries, right? I could actually go up into the sky, right now, and get a better view.” Ember walked toward the edge, slowly spreading her wings as the sun peeked out behind a couple of heavy clouds.

Applejack waited.

Ember paused, wings spread; then, quietly, she sat down and let her feet dangle over the stone’s edge. “But even up in the sky, all the way up, so I could get the best possible view of all this…it wouldn’t look as good. Not by a long shot.”

Just as quietly, Applejack trotted up and sat down a little further away from the edge, right next to Ember. “An’ why do you figure that is?”

“Honestly, you’ve probably got some wholesome, folksy answer for me, but…I almost wish I knew an answer outside of that.” Ember’s tail lashed softly. “Is it the angle relative to the ground? Is there some kind of optimal height for looking at a bunch of trees? Does this vary with the weather, or is there one best vantage point for everything?”

“Didn’t figure you were the analytical type.” Applejack’s forehoof drifted towards Ember’s claw.

“I’m not.” Ember raised her other claw in the air in a half-shrug, tail still drifting across the slab. “But I can’t think about things like these and not be curious. It’s like your hang-ups about nature, or your insistence on building a super fancy cabin for not a whole lot of a reason.”

“You know darn well what my reasons are.” Applejack took Ember’s claw in her hoof. “Sentiment.”

“Sentiment?”

“Sentiment. In the past, it was hope. In the future, it’ll be nostalgia. But for now? Sentiment.”

Ember let the sentence linger for a couple of seconds before squeezing Applejack’s hoof. “...Yeah. I guess I can live with that answer.”

Friday evening

“I could get used to this!” Ember yelled jubilantly, slamming her mug of cider down and grabbing at a basket of rubies on the table.

“You might wanna get used to slowin’ down, sugarcube!” Applejack bellowed back, words ever so slightly slurred, and took another healthy swig from her own cider mug. “Wouldn’t want you to get the good batch all over yourself.”

“Heh! An’ that’d be…what would the problem with that be?” Ember replied, words similarly slurred and cheeks similarly tinted. “You’d…you’d get to see me all wettish. On the front. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Guilty as charged!” Applejack crowed, spreading her forelegs like her favorite buckball team had just won a championship game. “Though that ain’t true’n spirit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ember pointed a talon at Applejack. “So what’s the truth, then?”

“I like lookin’ at you aaaaaaaall the time!” Applejack replied.

The two of them managed to hold in their laughter.

For two seconds.

Then the room exploded into the ugliest laughter the cabin had seen since its conception. Loud guffaws degenerated into hacking coughs and phlegmy snorts before kicking right back up again, hooves and limbs were slammed into the table with all the regularity of an inebriated judge, and the couple at the table keeled forward and leaned back in jerky shudders as fresh spasms of mirth gushed out of their gaping maws. It was as if both of them had borne witness to the world’s greatest joke, and were the most inarticulate audience in the world to express their appreciation for it.

At one point in time, Ember’s empty mug got knocked over and clattered loudly across the wooden floor. At a different point, Applejack’s hat wound up on Ember’s head, and Ember’s claws wound up in Applejack’s mane. By the time both of them came to their senses, or the closest approximation of such that two intoxicated individuals could reach, Applejack’s head was in Ember’s lap, humming a tune that Ember couldn’t recognize.

Being responsible adults, both of them decided that more cider was in order.

Clarity returned to Ember in the abrupt, unsettling realization that she was no longer sitting at a dinner table. She, and Applejack, were sprawled out on a red couch on the far side of the room. The soft strumming of a guitar poured out of a radio sitting on a counter near the refrigerator, backed by the slightly softer sound of Applejack’s slow, even breathing.

Shaking her head a little, Ember stretched and looked around at the havoc the two had undoubtedly wrecked. She glanced back at Applejack, then at the dinner table again. Then back at Applejack one last time, before—with a stretch and a yawn—standing up, walking back towards the table and picking up a mug

By the time Applejack stirred, sat up, stretched and looked around, Ember had already picked up all the utensils and both the mugs off of the floor and was washing her hands in the kitchen sink, right next to a stack of freshly-cleaned dishes and tableware.

“...Huh.”

Ember looked back. “Oh, hey, you’re awake.”

“Never…never slept. Jes’...closed my eyes for a little. You know how it gets.” Applejack rubbed her face with her hoof, then peered at the dishes. “Aw, criminy, Ember, you ain’t gotta do those.”

“Well, yeah, I don’t have to. But I am.” Ember stuck her tongue out at Applejack. “Bleh.”

“But you’re the guest! Guests ain’t—”

“Yeah, I’m a guest. Not a total freeloader. Honestly, I’m just kind of sad you woke up before I had a chance to do the dishes.” Ember chuckled. “Figured you’d have thought it was a nice surprise.”

“I wasn’t sleepin’—”

“Resting your eyes, right, I getcha.” Ember raised her claws placatingly. “Still, though. I’m allowed to do nice things for you too, right?”

“...Yeah. I guess you ain’t wrong about that.” Applejack stood up off of the couch, arching her back slightly.

“Aww, really?” Ember quirked a slightly exasperated eyebrow. “You’re using that tone again. Do you really want to just wait claw-on-foot for me?”

“Not all the time, no.” Applejack dipped her eyes groundward for a moment or two as she trotted towards Ember. “Jes’ figured…jes’ figured that if you had to do the dishes an’ help out with stuff, it wouldn’t be…”

“Wouldn’t be…what?”

Applejack’s face went red. “Well, shucks, now it’d just sound stupid to say.”

Ember snorted in amusement. “You’re gonna say it anyway, aren’t you.”

“Wh-”

“Because you know that I’ll make fun of you regardless of what you say, but I won’t judge you for it. And because I’ll badger you incessently until you tell me, because…” Ember leaned forward and booped Applejack’s snout. “You’re cute when you get flustered.”

Applejack tried to cover her face with a foreleg and almost unbalanced herself in the process, teetering around for a couple moments before righting herself. “Aw, Ember!”

“Yeees?” Ember grinned impishly. “So are you gonna tell me and get it over with, or—”

“Storybook.”

Ember paused. “...Uh. What?”

“Wanted things for you to be perfect. Princess-like, or queen-like, or what have you. Like one of them fancy romance novels Rarity loves so much.”

Ember snorted in amusement, body spasming for a brief second as if trying, and failing, to disgorge a wellspring of laughter that had already been tapped. Shaking her head slightly, she shook her hands dry, walked over to Applejack and cupped her cheek with her claw. “Fire in the skies, AJ, I swear you’re getting more like your curly-maned friend every time I see you.”

“It weren’t—”

Ember reached up and scritched Applejack affectionately behind her ear. Almost immediately, Applejack’s body relaxed, head reflexively tilting to allow Ember to scritch her more easily.

“I know. You weren’t gonna rent some huge, frou-frou castle and have us dress up like royalty and put roses and candles everywhere while we slow dance in the middle of some grand ballroom and all that other ridiculous junk. But I think you forgot that I like the practical part of you too, okay? It’s like…like in the pony world, everydra…everypony’s sugary and cutesy and unwilling to ever risk getting so much as singed by a spark, and then in the dragon world everydragon’s unwilling to work together to build so much as a single smelter or forge and they all burn their bridges like bridges were meant to be torched. And then there’s you.”

Applejack remained silent.

“You’re sweet, but not sugary. Cute, but not cutesy. You put in the work to build cabins when nodragon asked nor expected you to, and you’d probably chop the head off of any dragon that deigned to even singe your bridge. And you take risks.”

“Do I, now?”

Ember chuckled. “You keep company with a dragon. The queen of the dragons, no less. But I suppose if you wanted to settle down with some nice, fresh-faced rock farmer…”

“I ain’t ever gonna mix apples an’ rocks together. That’s how you get bad cider made by a couple’a conponies.” Applejack’s ear twitched in amusement. “Heck, why would I want to date a farmer, anyway?”

“What, you ponies don’t all think alike?”

“Heck no!” Applejack arched an eyebrow. “Besides, even if it was an apple farmer from some other family, why would I want more of the same in my life? Kin should stick together an’ cherish the same things together, but love…you can’t love a mirror. It wouldn’t feel right if there weren’t some kinda difference between me an’ my special somepony.”

Ember scritched Applejack behind the ear a little more, causing Applejack to thrum with contentment. “Pretty sure you got your wish there. No offense, but the day I give up ruling and help plow fields all day is the day I give away my scales.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ember returned to scritching behind Applejack’s ear in silence, punctuated only by the ticking of a nearby clock. Eventually, Ember checked the time. “Ugh.”

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Not to bring things down, but I’m gonna assume that you’re the kind of pony who loves getting up early in the morning.” Ember looked pointedly over at the clock. “And it’s pretty close to midnight.”

Applejack tilted her head up towards the clock and frowned. “Shucks. How’d it get so late?”

“That’s the sort of question that’s probably got an answer similar to ‘what happened to all the cider?’ ” Ember replied, pulling her claw away and stretching. “Mmm. So you never did point out where your bedroom is.”

“Guest bedroom’s the second door on the left.” Applejack stretched. “Should have everything set up for—”

“I was asking where your bedroom was, silly.”

Applejack froze.

Ember reached over and ruffled her mane. “Look, I have scales. That obviously means I’m cold-blooded, regardless of any actual research done on dragon physiology. Which means that if I don’t get as much body heat as possible, I’ll freeze.” Ember’s lips curled into a smile. “So…”

Without another word, Applejack grabbed Ember by the wrist and tugged her down towards the room at the end of the hall.

Saturday morning

Ember stirred. Something was wrong.

She wasn’t warm enough, for one thing. Curled up around nothing, that was another—there should have been something, or somepony, in her outstretched arms. And then there was the dull pain somewhere south of her chest.

Opening her eyes, Ember woke up to a room she didn’t recognize. It took her brain a couple of moments to kick in and remind her that, yes, it would have been creepier if she had recognized it. This was Applejack’s cabin. Applejack’s room. Which meant that…

“Applejack?” Ember mumbled as she sloughed off her covers and pulled herself out of bed. It really was cold, colder than she had expected, and she shivered a bit as she stumbled across the floor towards the door opposite her. The pain didn’t abate, either, which added to the mystery of what had happened after Applejack dragged her off.

Applejack had grabbed her wrist, and…

And…

The door was unlocked. Pulling it open, Ember staggered down the hall, tail dragging along the floor and peeked her head into the main room. Applejack stood over by the stove, mouth wrapped around a panholder, which she was using to bite down on a panhandle. With surprising grace, a pancake seemed to lift itself skyward, tumble neatly end over end and land other-side up with a satisfying sizzle.

“Uh…”

Applejack looked over at Ember, and abruptly Ember realized exactly why she felt uncomfortable.

“Applejack, I…”

“G’morning, Ember. Somethin’ wrong?”

Ember’s tail lashed. “Bathroom.”

With a smirk, Applejack nodded her head to the side. “To your right.”

Ember yanked the door open, threw herself inside and slammed the door shut again.

By the time Ember staggered out again, Applejack was laying down a second plate full of pancakes on the dining table. The pancakes on one plate were riddled with colorful, glittering shards, and Ember took a seat by that plate without question.

“Do I want to know how much cider we went through yesterday?” Ember groaned, grabbing at a fork.

“Depends on if you’d find it impressive or embarrassin’.” Applejack sat down by the other plate and reached for a jar of apple jam. “Y’know, I was about a minute away from buckin’ the door open an’ waking you up myself. You’re a sleepy lil’ lizard.”

“Compared to who? Spike?” Ember waited until Applejack was done with the jam jar before grabbing it. “The little softie keeps pony hours and we know it. Try talking to my would-be contender to the throne, assuming you can wake him up before the sun sets.”

“Or I break out the pan an’ a wooden spoon and start havin’ myself a lil’ bit of drumming practice.” Applejack arched an eyebrow, grinning playfully. “Right next to his head.”

“You’d make him cranky for weeks.” Ember spooned out a huge scoop of apple jam onto her pancakes and slathered it on them with her butter knife. “Please do. I love the thought.”

The two of them tucked into their pancakes, and Ember didn’t pick up the conversation again until she had cleared her plate.

“So, uh…these are really good.” Ember pointed at Applejack’s half-emptied plate for emphasis. “How’d you learn to cook with gems? Farmer’s intuition, or practice?”

Applejack’s eyebrow came up again. “ ‘Farmer’s intuition?’ Really?”

“Look, I’m genuinely surprised by how delicious they were. And you’re pretty full of surprises in general, so I dunno, maybe this is some kind of earth pony magic at work?”

Applejack snorted, giggling and leaning over a little, letting her hat slide slightly askew. “Earth pony m…Oh, ya big silly lizard, you crack me up sometimes!”

“Just practice, then? But who—”

“Spike!”

“Oh, right.” Ember’s tail flicked. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“The lil’ guy was a big help. I used to burn ‘em all the time, just couldn’t get th’ hang of it. Which I s’pose makes sense when you’re tryin’ to cook rocks an’ batter at the same time. Took a while!” Applejack clinked the tines of her fork against her plate as she cocked her head to the side. “Did it taste like it was worth it?”

“I’m so, so tempted to pretend it’s awful just to see your reaction.” A little cloud of smoke puffed out of Ember’s nostrils in amusement. “But I know you’d take it personally anyway. So…yeah? Best thing I’ve had in months, honestly. Except for the cider! That was better.”

An awkward silence hung over the meal.

“So is there any—”

“Slow down, partner. At the rate we’re goin’, we ain’t gonna have any left before dinner tonight. Besides, didn’t anypony ever teach you that daydrinkin’ ain’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

“Drinking at all in the dragonlands isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

“How come?”

Ember pointed her fork at Applejack. “Have you ever tried any beer that’s come out of the dragonlands?”

“Can’t say I have, no.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

Applejack snorted, chuckling. “An’ I suppose you aren’t gonna offer a cross-cultural exchange on that front?”

“I think you can do better things with your tongue than cutting it out just to get rid of the unspeakable taste. And that’s assuming you can keep it in your stomach for more than five minutes.”

Applejack chuckled louder, leaning back in her seat and readjusting her hat. “I s’pose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Yeah…”

Silence. As seconds passed, Applejack’s grin fell into a smaller, sadder smile. “I don’t s’pose there’s any chance I could see it for myself, is there?”

Ember sighed. “Not anytime soon. We—”

“Talked about it, I know. I know. Jes’...checkin.”

“Fair.” Ember pointed her fork at Applejack’s plate. “You really should finish those, or I’m gonna have to steal them from you, gems or no.”

Abruptly, the pall over the conversation lifted, and Applejack’s face slid back into a grin. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Wasn’t I just saying they were too good for me to pretend otherwise?” Ember poked her tongue out at Applejack. “And your jam just makes it even better. Honest take?”

“Sure.”

“I, uh…” Ember blushed faintly. “I wouldn’t mind eating like this for the rest of my life.”

Applejack’s cheeks coloured in turn. “Y’mean, the food?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell, and tension rose. This time, however, it wasn’t sadness that filled the air between them.

“...There’s a place I want us t’go to this afternoon, if that’s okay. Figure you’d like it. Grassy clearing, no muck, no brush. Took care of all that a few days ago.” Applejack rested a hoof on the table and looked down at her plate. “...Figured it’d be nice to spend a lil’ time there.”

“I’d like that.”

Applejack’s head snapped up. “I-I mean, you…”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. And I’d like that.”

“A-alright. Got it. So, uh…yeah. But…” Clearly at a loss for words, Applejack gestured wildly at the air.

“Heck, you wanna go now?” Ember stood up, and Applejack almost keeled over backwards in her chair.

“N-now? I-I mean…I said this afternoon, right?” Applejack said, red-faced. “ ‘Cause I want it to warm up a little, an’ all that. It’s…you ain’t noticed it’s cold in here?”

Ember raised a talon, appearing ready to object to Applejack’s argument, before—as Applejack’s words sunk in—lowering her talon again and pensively rubbing her chin. “That’s actually a good point. No offense, but it was honestly pretty cold when I got up this morning, and…” Ember gave the air an experimental sniff. “Still cold. Probably even colder outside. Got any ideas on how to warm things up, or…?”

“Got a fireplace.”

“Like heck you do.”

Applejack pointed a hoof at a wall on one side of the room. Ember followed her gaze, saw the fireplace and—after turning back around—saw Applejack sporting a punchably cheeky grin.

“...How?”

“Structural engineerin’ knowledge. A little bit of studyin’. Twi helped me out with some of the fundamentals of heat distribution an’ all that. An’ a whole lot of elbow grease. An’ you know what?” Applejack’s grin grew even cheekier. “It was worth it all to see the look on your face right now.”

“I’m not—I don’t have a look on my face!”

“Sure you don’t, sugarcube.”

“I don’t!”

“Whatever you say, sugarcube.”

“Don’t ‘sugarcube’ me, you smug—also, how in Equestria do you think this is a good idea? At all?” Ember gestured at the fireplace. “This is a wood building! It’s gonna catch on fire in, like, five minutes!”

“It’s a stone fireplace, hon.” Applejack quirked an eyebrow. “Stone. Stone don’t catch fire. An’ the surface area-to-volume ratio, thank ya kindly for the term Twilight, means that thicker logs as an outside surface actually catch fire less often than your average frou-frou—”

“You know what catches fire even less? A stone house!” Ember spread her arms exasperatedly. “You could have—”

“There’s how much stone ‘round here, exactly?”

Ember paused. Applejack’s grin was reaching revolutionary levels of cheekiness, which would have been impressive were it not so irredeemably infuriating.

“...This still seems dangerous.”

“Any more dangerous than havin’ a temperamental an’ frequently-inebriated dragon wanderin’ around the place?”

Ember huffed, smoke puffing out of her nostrils. “...You’re not wrong, but I still resent you for saying that.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” Applejack slid out of her chair and headed towards the door. “Lemme go get the firewood real quick, an’—”

“—and I’m coming with you. I can carry wood, and many claws make light work.”

For a moment, Applejack looked ready to object. Then, thinking better of it, she nodded. “Fair ‘nuff. C’mon, it’s just out back.”

The warmer cabin air washed over Ember’s scales as she staggered inside the front door holding a small pyramid of logs. With a small sigh, Ember set the log pile down next to the fireplace and gave her claws a little shake. “Think that should be enough?”

“More’n plenty, I reckon.” Applejack dislodged her hat with a sharp shake of her head, then trotted over to the other side of the fireplace, bent forward and lowered her head. The logs that she had balanced on her back rolled off easily, landing with a small series of thumps on the floor, until Applejack stepped away from her freshly dislodged log pile and brushed a chunk of cruft out of her mane. “Depends on how long you want to keep the fire going.”

“You’re asking a dragon how much she likes fire?” Ember snorted in amusement, walking over to one of Applejack’s dislodged logs and wedging it in the fireplace.

“Actually, ah…would you mind gettin’ the kindling for this instead?” Applejack scratched the back of her head, then pulled an errant twig out of her mane. “I can be a lil’ particular ‘bout how these get arranged.”

“Oh. Sure.” Ember stood up and stretched. “Want me to use my claws, or…?”

“Should be a shovel near the woodpile. Jes’ scoop up a buncha twigs an’ leaves an’ whatever else seems good. You can bring the whole dang shovel back in an’ just dump it on top when you’re done.”

“Shovel. Got it.” Ember stretched, headed for the door and slipped outside. Once again, the chill bit through her scales; once again, she ignored it completely as she hooked a corner around the cabin and headed for the log pile.

The sky was still grey, and that—unlike the chill—kind of ticked her off. There wasn’t any reason she should be, since weather was weather and that couldn’t really be helped, but…it felt weighty. Heavy. Vaguely oppressive. The opposite of…

Ember grabbed the shovel, then paused. What was it the opposite of? She could always just say sentiment again, but she didn’t want to just brush it all aside. Not now that she had a moment to think, without being around Applejack or flying or the absolute mess that the dragonlands were going to be in when she got back. Not when she could just…

Ember leaned back against the somewhat diminished log pile and looked up at the trees, towering and solid, beating back the empty sky with their last vestiges of summer and brilliant heralds of winter. The changing of the seasons was inevitable, and always would be, and there wasn’t anything she could do about that.

The sooner she accepted that, the better she would be for it. She knew she wasn’t the only one struggling with that, of course, but Ember didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

But at least there was the here and now. And even with grey skies, she could still enjoy the trees as they were, and the rich autumn air as it was. And so, for a few seconds, Ember let her eyes glaze over and thought of warmer summers, richer springs and green leaves.

Balancing the shovel in one claw and working the door handle in the other, Ember pushed the door open. “AJ? I’m back.”

Silence. Ember turned towards the fireplace. Applejack was sitting near the remains of the log pile, hoof resting on one of the logs on a sturdy and somewhat complex-looking log pyramid in the fireplace, not saying anything.

Ember moved her other claw back to the shovel and, with a soft huff, walked over to the fireplace, upended the shovel and poured a hefty amount of leaves and kindling over the pyramid. “Wakey-wakey, spacepony.”

“Ah!” Applejack scooted back, blinking. “Ember! What in tarnation…?”

“It’s not like I didn’t call your name, you know.” Ember flipped the shovel over and placed it next to the door, leaning up against the wall. “You were all kinds of zoned out in there. Didn’t know piling a few logs on top of each other took so much brainpower. Should I have been taking notes?”

Applejack snorted and stood up. “Ha ha ha, very funny. Now, if you’ll ‘scuse me for a bit, I’ll just get the matches—”

Ember glanced at the log pile and opened her mouth. A gout of flame erupted from her jaws, bathing the pile in flames, and within seconds the unkindled fuel turned into a crackling fireplace.

“—Ooooor you could just do that” Applejack finished, sitting down again.

“Dragon? Helloooooo?” Ember sauntered over and sat down next to Applejack. “Did you just, like, spontaneously forget what dragons are, or something?”

Applejack rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Wouldn’t have been polite to just ask, Sugarcube. I appreciate the help, though.”

“Ugh. Polite this, polite that…again, I guess it’d be worse if all you ponies acted like my would-be throne rival, but you really gotta learn that asking for help with the small things is okay.”

Applejack’s ears drooped. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just…ugh. If I didn’t think this was just how you all genuinely felt, I’d be way more annoyed by this, but still.” Ember reached over and toggled one of Applejack’s ears. “You’re all too nice for your own good. I’m surprised it hasn’t bit you in the backside more often.”

“Aw, c’mon, we ain’t that schmaltzy. We’re perfectly capable of fightin’ amongst ourselves, y’know.”

Ember arched an eyebrow. “Like dragons?”

“Well—”

“Like griffons?”

“Okay, but—”

“Like yaks to non-yaks—”

“Okay! Okay! Point taken!” Applejack’s tail swished. “But so help me, if you try an’ put my mane in a bow or somethin’ else cutesy, I’ll make you regret—”

Ember leaned over and kissed Applejack’s cheek. Applejack blushed bright red, mouth hanging open, words abruptly stifled by the gesture.

“Mmm? What are you gonna make me regret, AJ?” Ember replied in a singsong voice, pulling her head back. “Are you gonna be a big, nasty pony, now?”

“Aw, hush.” Applejack muttered. “Ain’t fair when you do that.”

Ember peered at Applejack’s mane. “Y’know, funny I said all that, but—”

“Don’t you dare try an’ put my mane in a bow!”

“I wasn’t gonna.” Ember pointed a talon at Applejack’s mane. “But you’ve still got some bark and other junk in there. Want me to pick it out for you?”

“Eh?” Applejack reached up with her hoof and felt around in her mane. “...Consarn it, guess I do. Guess I should—”

“Ahem.”

Applejack caught Ember’s smug expression. “...Alright, fine. Could you get the rest of the cruft outta my mane, sugarcube?”

“With pleasure.” Ember scooted behind Applejack, running her talons through Applejack’s mane. “Ooooh. I still love the feel of this stuff, you know. Guess I’ll be at this for a while.”

Applejack didn’t say anything, but the swishing of her tail conveyed her feelings about the situation well enough. Slowly, Ember began her impromptu combing session, casually dislodging small twigs and setting them aside as she ran her talons through Applejack’s mane over and over again.

Half a minute passed in silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire, before Ember spoke up again. “You know, I know I only mentioned it a bit last night, but…”

“Yeah?”

“Ponies are really big on singing and musical numbers, right? Not just the pink one?”

“...yeah?”

“What about dancing?” Ember gently unwove a stubborn-looking knot. “I figured that’d be pretty ponylike, too, but as far as I know it hasn’t come up.”

“It does. Ponies aren’t as big on dance numbers, though. ‘Asides, dances for four-legged critters are different from dances with two-legged ones. You can’t really mix an’ match, so it doesn’t always cross over with other creatures.”

“I’m sure they could work out some compromise.”

Applejack arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t figure you for a dance enthusiast, Ember. This somethin’ you wanted to try, or…?”

“Me? Nah. I mean, I’m curious enough that I’m not gonna say never, but for now? Pass.”

“Fair enough.”

Another half-minute passed in silence.

“So, uh…” Ember started up again. “You were kind of intense about staring at the fireplace when I walked in.”

“Mmm?”

“Yeah. I was just…” Ember paused. “I mean, obviously you were lost in thought, but…what’s on your mind?”

“Oh.” Applejack’s voice was rather quiet. “It’s, uh. Jes’ silly stuff, really.”

“I like silly.”

“Pinkie Pie levels of silly?”

Ember froze. “That’s the name of the pink friend of yours? Anyways, uh - noooooo. No thanks. Not that silly. Please tell me your thoughts aren’t that silly.”

Applejack chuckled, shifting her weight a bit. “Can’t say they were. Not that they didn’t involve her! Jes’...thinkin’ bout a party that seemed like it was forever ago.”

Ember paused, talons still interwoven with Applejack’s mane. “A party, huh?”

“Yeah. A party right after Winter Wrap-up. Comemmoratin’ spring an’ all, right? Where the sky was blue enough to drown in an’ the sun felt like it could melt even the coldest stallion’s heart.”

“Hm.” Ember’s wings relaxed, unfurling slightly. “Spring, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“The sort of party you could meet new folks at?”

Applejack leaned back a bit, tilting her head towards Ember. “The sort with wild queens with fiery tempers.”

Ember grinned, tapping a talon on Applejack’s cheek. “And exuberant farmers with big hats.”

Applejack grinned. “An’ cider. Folks seemed to appreciate that.”

“Can’t think of a single creature who wouldn’t!” Ember traced a gentle circle into Applejack’s cheek, making a low noise in her throat not unlike a cat’s purr. “I bet you could find good conversation there, too.”

“Like about the trials an’ tribulations of trying to keep a whole dang country together?”

“Or a farm!” Ember snorted playfully. “And the fifty different chores you needed to get through every day to keep the whole place from falling apart.”

Applejack gestured vaguely at the fireplace. “About folks who weren’t ever grateful for all the hard work you did.”

“Or who thought that you didn’t get frustrated with the things you were born to do.”

“Who didn’t understand that just because you’re loyal to your job…”

“...Doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes wish that it never happened, or that there would be more to it all than just being your profession.”

The fire crackled, flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. Neither Ember nor Applejack paid it any sort of attention whatsoever.

Ember started again. “So then you think about all those times when you'd talk, and talk, and talk…”

Applejack smiled wistfully. “At an amusement park…”

Ember’s catlike purr returned. “...and a buckball game…”

“And that one awful formal gala.” Applejack blanched. “The kind you tell yourself you’ll never do ever again.”

“But then you wind up holding claws, or hooves…” Ember took her claw off of Applejack’s cheek, slid it down her foreleg and squeezed her hoof. “And suddenly the whole thing doesn’t seem that bad after all.”

“An’ holding hooves turns to spendin’ nights together, an…” Applejack paused, then flipped over and scooted up on top of Ember’s lap, chest to chest, face to face.

Ember grinned. “Yeah?”

“An’ I think I’m gonna kiss you now” Applejack said matter-of-factly. “An’ I don’t know when ah’m gonna stop.”

“What if the cabin catches on fire and burns to the ground? If I die, I’m haunting your corpse.” Ember stuck her tongue out at Applejack. “Bleh.”

Applejack caught Ember’s tongue with her mouth, and the conversation guttered and died even as the flames in the fireplace roared to life.

The cabin, despite the subsequent passing of many inattentive minutes, did not burn down.

Saturday afternoon

“Well, that was…that was a thing,” Ember replied as she pulled out a sapphire from a basket of gems Applejack had set out for her, bit down and looked casually over at the fireplace. “Can’t say I don’t feel warmer now.”

“Miracle of a good fireplace, ain’t it?” Applejack replied over the lilting guitar echoing from the nearby radio as she sat at the dining table and talked between bites of a large, red apple.

“I wasn’t talking about the fireplace.” Ember stared at Applejack and quirked an eyebrow, and Applejack blushed. “...Though you’re right. Good call on that, especially given how much of a non-inferno things turned out to be.”

“You’d figure I’d know what I’m talking about.” Applejack’s reply sounded half-defiant, half-flustered, as if attempting to use bravado to cover up shades of embarrassment.

“Oh, I do! Or I should. Trust me, I’m not doubting what you’re capable of, at all.” Ember popped the rest of the sapphire in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Mmmm. But yeah, honestly—if any one pony can do all these things that you pulled off, like with the cabin and everything, it’s you. By a wide margin. I’m just impressed that any one pony could do it at all.”

“Twilight—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, they helped you with learning some things or another. But you could have done that just by going to the archives, or…library, or whatever you call it.” Ember waggled a claw in the air. “Point is, they could know how to do it, but they still wouldn’t put in the effort. They’d cut corners, if nothing else. But you? This is flawless.”

Applejack’s blush brightened. “I figure you’re…maybe underestimatin’ my friends a little.”

“I think maybe you’re underestimating yourself a little.” Ember walked over to Applejack, lifted her hat and tousled her mane. “Maybe it’d help if I phrased things a different way? Because I know you can be more yak-headed than any yak I’ve met.”

A small smile flickered onto Applejack’s face. “That’s ‘cause you’ve only met Yona.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong!” Ember chirped. “But hey, new tactic. You know how everypony has dreams about how one thing or another could be perfect, right?”

“What’cha mean?”

“Like, uh…That blue feather-winged friend of yours, uh…Rainbow Dash? That’s her name, right? Anyways, she’s got a perfect idea of the sort of Wonderbolt she wants to be. Like, she can picture it in her head.” Ember tapped her head for emphasis. “But even though she’s putting in the work to y’know, be that kind of Wonderbolt, she still doesn’t know exactly how to be that picture that’s in her brain. The steps she’s taking are the steps she thinks, or was told, would help her get there, but that’s just going to get her in the general area of what she wants. Not that specific picture.”

“You’re sayin’ she doesn’t know what she wants?”

“Not exactly? More like what she wants isn’t what she thinks she wants. Or what she thinks she wants isn’t…gahhhhh.” Ember gave Applejack’s mane a slightly too forceful tug while dislodging a small clump of wet leaves. “The problem is what she wants isn’t material. It isn’t stuff, which means it isn’t something she can hold onto or look at. And since she has no clue what her idea should look or feel like, there’s always going to be some x-factor that could throw her off, and no matter how foolproof she thinks her plan is there’s always going to be a point where she ends up winging it and hoping for the best.”

Silence.

Ember chuckled. “Heh. ‘Winging it.’ She’s got wings. Didn’t intend that pun, honest.”

“Huh.” Applejack cleared her throat. “Honestly? I got distracted from what point you’re tryin’ to make by the fact that you remembered what Rainbow Dash wants better than her name.”

“Actions speak louder than words. Besides, pony names are all the same.” Ember shrugged. “Except for you. You’re impossible to forget, AJ.”

“Shucks.” Applejack’s smile returned. “But yeah, uh…where were you goin’ with all that?”

“What I’m saying is that the whole reason things turned out perfectly, or so close to perfect that I can’t tell the difference, is because you knew exactly what you were going to do, exactly what you needed to do, and then did that. Anypony else, no matter how hard they wanted it to happen? There’d be mistakes, because they wouldn’t know the absolute right thing to do, and so they’d slip up on all the bits they couldn’t perfectly conceptualize. And that’s why you can do things in a way that no other pony would be able to do as well. And that’s why the only thing holding you back is being a pony in the first place. And that doesn’t even appear to be slowing you down that much!”

Applejack was silent.

“And that’s why you’re the best pony ever. And why you would be even if you weren’t very, very special to me.” Ember smiled.

Applejack smiled back, but it was slightly yet unmistakably forced. “I…could think of a couple of ways I couldn’t make it all happen like I wanted to. Mebbe.”

“Maybe?” Ember frowned. “What the heck’s that supposed to mean? You think maybe you did things the right way, or maybe not, but you haven’t decided for some reason?”

“It’s…it’s a time thing.” Applejack blinked. “Like, it’s somethin’ I’ll know turned out perfect for sure or not only in the future, when it happens. An’ until it happens, I can’t know whether or not I did the exact right thing. Does…does that make sense?”

Ember stared at Applejack. Applejack stared back.

“...No.” Ember took her claw away and straightened up. “It doesn’t. But I’ll take your word on it, okay? As long as you tell me when this mysterious point in the future is.”

Applejack shivered. “Prolly tonight.”

“That soon? Heck yeah!” Ember grinned, turning on the spot and heading back to the basket of gems. “Can’t wait to see what it is for myself!”

Ember grabbed an emerald, chewing loudly with her back turned to Applejack. She didn’t see the expression on Applejack’s face, watch Applejack’s lips move or hear her mutter something under her breath.

“And now I’m cold again” Ember muttered.

“We can’t exactly bring the fireplace along with us,” Applejack replied as she walked along the forest path. A persistent wind took some of the sharpness out of her words, but the point remained, and Ember scowled at nothing in particular.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It was just so…comfy in there.” Ember jabbed a talon at Applejack. “This had better be a super nice clearing you’re taking me to.”

“It will be, don’t worry. Besides, the weather’s supposed to clear up soonish. Granted, it wasn’t s’posed to be this cold or cloudy at this time of day, but…”

“Can’t control that. I know.” Ember walked closer to Applejack, then paused. “Wait, no, you ponies can control it.”

“Control every inch of the sky, all the time, to the last raindrop?” Applejack turned, grabbing her hat to prevent a sudden squall from plucking it off of her head. “Ain’t possible. Ain’t even close to possible.”

“But I’ve seen the blue one—”

“Touch up a couple of clouds right over a town? Yeah. But there ain’t enough pegasi to keep all the sky perfect all the time.” Applejack turned back. “That’s why us folks on the ground gotta do our own work, ‘specially those that don’t live right next to places like Cloudsdale.”

“I…” Ember paused in place for a second, then jogged back up to Applejack. “Okay. I kinda hate how that makes sense, but I guess I can’t say it wouldn’t make sense. At least it explains the crummy weather.”

“It’ll get better.” Applejack smiled softly. “Can’t stay cloudy forever.”

But, in the immediate future, the weather seemed perfectly content to prove them wrong. The chill sapped the vigor out of any thoughts of small talk, and the wind carried isolated words away into the shadows in the foliage. The two of them walked in silence, side by side, as if trying to reclaim their warmth through shared body heat; but this, too, was insufficient, and Ember and Applejack found themselves shivering as they walked.

Chill air and the dull sky blotted out the perception of time. Their silent walk passed through seconds, minutes, stretches of time which seemed formless, nameless and endless. They walked until it seemed as if there was no point to the walk anymore, even when the wind started to die down.

Then Applejack veered off to the right. Ember followed her off the path, around a few trees and through foliage—

And there it was. Soft grass, well-tended; somecreature had been there recently and taken care to keep it scythed down to townpony standards.The trees formed an almost circular ring around the area, creating an unusual yet not unwelcome air of hospitality to the clearing, as if it had been designed for travellers to rest in after a lengthy excursion.

Ember walked into the clearing, letting her feet sink into the grass and soil, and hadn’t crossed over more than a meter or two before the sun finally broke through the cloudy sky. All at once, light and warmth washed over the two of them, in those moments banishing any memories of the chill that had reigned over them mere moments ago.

With a happy sigh, Ember sat down, then let herself sprawl onto the grass, arms outstretched, eyes closed. Blanketed in the sun, Ember soaked up the softness and the warmth around her, breathing softly.

Something nudged her claw. Opening her eyes and looking over, Ember saw Applejack looking back, stretched out on the grass in a mirror of Ember’s body, hoof outstretched as if ready to grasp onto Ember’s claw. Without hesitating for a second, Ember rolled over and on top of Applejack, body slightly curled on top of the earth pony, chest pressed against chest, breathing softly.

Their rest was witnessed only by the sun, the trees and a robin gone astray.

Saturday evening

Applejack curled her hoof around a cup of hot chocolate, saying nothing.

Ember copied her in a nearly perfect mirror, occasionally taking a sip and letting out a satisfied sigh. “You weren’t kidding. This is really good.”

Applejack didn’t say anything. Instead, her slightly unfocused eyes were fixed on a spot vaguely to the right of Ember, cocoa virtually untouched.

“...Hey, Applejack.”

Silence.

“Dragonlands to Applejack, are you there? Hello?” Ember waved a claw in front of Applejack’s face. Startled, Applejack jolted back a bit, just barely avoiding spilling any cocoa onto the table.

“Ah! Sorry, that…sorry, sugarcube” Applejack replied. “Jes’...thinking. You know how it is.”

“Kinda? But I don’t know what you’re thinking about. Something on your mind?”

Applejack chewed her lip, then took a sip of her cocoa, readjusted her hat, and took another sip. “...I dunno. It’s…”

Ember arched an eyebrow. “It’s…what? What’s ‘it,’ anyway?”

Applejack lifted her head. “...You liked the clearing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Ember grinned. “Worth the walk. Definitely a shame we had to come back, but better to do that before it gets dark. Fumbling around in this part of who-knows-where without a flashlight sounds like a good way to trip over a tree root.”

“Or get attacked by Timberwolves.” Applejack drained her coca, set her cup down and stood up. “Want me to top you off on cocoa?”

“You better believe it.” Ember sat back in her chair. “And hey, you’re forgetting again—dragon, remember? Timberwolves are basically just kindling waiting to happen.”

Applejack snorted in amusement as she walked towards a saucepan on the stove. “You realize that sounds like a couple of stray sparks away from ‘the whole dang forest’s kindling waiting to happen,’ right?”

“Not my fault you live in the middle of a fireplace.” Ember poked her tongue out at Applejack playfully. “Speaking of, want me to go out and get more wood? Or do you figure what we brought in was enough?”

“It should last the evening. I wouldn’t object to a smidge more kindling, though.” Applejack chuckled softly. “Consider it the cost of the cocoa?”

“How mercenary of you.” Ember stretched, then stood up. “You’re sounding more like a proper dragon every day.”

“Learned from the best!” Applejack replied, grabbing the saucepan and carefully pouring its contents into her cup.

“Darn straight you did.” Miming tipping an invisible hat, Ember spun on her heel and headed out again, grabbing the shovel by the fireplace as she left.

The chill air was there to greet her as she crossed the threshold, and the sun lingered only to bid her adieu. With a discontented sigh, Ember headed out towards the treeline, shoveled up a load of twigs, leaves and detritus, and headed back inside as quickly as possible.

She didn’t notice what Applejack looked like as she stepped inside with the shovel. She didn’t see Applejack’s expression as she dumped the kindling into the log-filled fireplace. But when she set the shovel down near the fireplace and turned back towards the table, she saw Applejack sitting there, staring off into space again, cocoa cup by her hoof completely unattended to.

With a soft huff, Ember waved her claw in front of Applejack’s face. “Hey! Wakey-wakey.”

“Ah! Sugarcube, you really gotta stop doin’ that.” Applejack started in her seat, blinked, then took an almost forced-looking sip of her cocoa. “Thank you for fetchin’ that, though.”

Ember sighed. “Okay, do we need to have a talk?”

“A talk?” Applejack paused. “About…”

“Look, I’m aware that this is a pony and/or a teen thing. There’s clearly something that’s taking up all of your headspace, you clearly want to talk about it, but you feel like for whatever reason you can’t talk about it—”

“I don’t need—”

“Sure, whatever. You’re grown up, I’m grown up, we both know what to do with ourselves.”

“We do, don’t we?”

Ember stared at Applejack, who was affecting a curiously strained smile. “Uh…yeah. We do.”

“Right, right, ‘course…right.” Applejack took another mechanical sip of her cocoa and forced the smile again. “I guess I’m just…fatigued. The cold weather, y’know? Sucks the life outta you.”

Ember snorted, leaning back in her chair. “If I didn’t like you as much as I do, I’d order you to spill the goods.”

“Ah don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Okay! Sure! Whatever.” Ember turned around, took a deep breath and spat a gout of flame into the fireplace, turning it from solemn wood into a crackling blaze in seconds. “It’s going to spoil the night, though. You sure you want—”

“Ah!” Applejack stood up.

Ember looked up at Applejack, who abruptly looked sheepish.

“Criminy, I just realized…the mix should be just about ready.” Applejack trotted over to the refrigerator. “Hol’ on real quick. Got to get dinner in the oven afore it stops homogenizin’ and starts to get all sour.”

“Sure you do.” Ember leaned back in her seat again. “This had better be good.”

“This…whoof.” Ember set her fork down and pushed her plate away. “Anycreature ever tell you you’re an amazing cook?”

Applejack chuckled. “Well, you do, for a start.”

“It should be more than just me!” Ember gestured vaguely. “It should be all your family, and all your friends, and all your friends’ family, and…everycreature, seriously.”

Applejack’s body relaxed slightly. “Shucks. Thanks, Ember.”

“Hey, I offer compliments when compliments are due. Never earlier, never later.” Ember took a sip at the remnants of her cocoa. “And my only regrets are that I don’t have the physical stomach capacity to ask for thirds.”

“I can bundle up the rest for you” Applejack scooted out of her seat and stood up. “Give you somethin’ to enjoy later on.”

“Eh. You said this…mystery mash, or whatever it was…was just as good for ponies as it was for dragons. I loved it, don’t get me wrong, but the less I have to carry back tomorrow the better.”

Applejack winced as if she’d just been lightly slapped. “Ah…right. Makes sense.”

Ember stared at Applejack. Applejack quietly sat back down, then looked back at Ember.

“...Hey, funny story.” Ember started. “You said you wouldn’t know until tonight whether or not something you did was perfect.”

“Uh? I…did I?”

“Yeah.” Ember arched an eyebrow. “Sooooooo…”

“I’d…say it went well.”

A little puff of smoke drifted out of Ember’s nostrils as her shadow danced in the firelight. “You don’t sound like you’ve convinced even yourself, much less me.”

“It’s…shucks. It’s about the clearing, that’s all!” Applejack sat up in her chair and spread her forelegs. “That was what I meant. I wanted to know whether the time we spent there was perfect, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Ember leaned slightly over the table, plunking her elbows down near the silverware she hadn’t touched. “So…final verdict on that, doc? Everything you wanted?”

“That’s the thing! That’s the question, I…” Applejack shook her head. “I can’t think of a way it coulda gone better. It was everything I was hoping for. Even the weather cooperated, if just for a smidge! If that ain’t the definition of perfect, I don’t know what is.”

“Well…if it’s honestly everything you wanted, then I dunno what to tell you. You still seem like something’s up, though.”

“I know! So I should feel like everything’s right as rain, shouldn’t I? Everythin’ came up all kinds of roses, an’ all that. But it just feels like somethin’s…missing, I guess.”

“I see.”

Applejack gulped. “I swear on my hat that’s the truth, Ember.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that statement was true. Honestly, I buy it one hundred percent. That said…” Ember pointed a talon at Applejack. “I know dinner was great and all, but could you do me a favor?”

Applejack swallowed again. “I reckon that depends on the favor.”

“I’m gonna need to…sorry, I mean, would it be okay if I borrowed a pencil and some paper? I’m not gonna waste or trash it, I promise.”

“Oh! Sure, sure.” Applejack blinked and stood up again. “What for?”

“Personal stuff.” Ember’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Nothing insulting to or bad about you, but nothing you’d enjoy, either.”

“Uh…okay. Sure.” Applejack turned, opened up a shelf next to her, pulled out a pencil with her teeth and set it on the table. “How much paper?”

“Five pages or so? Not tons, but more than two or three.” Ember leaned over and grabbed the pencil. Silently, Ember waited until Applejack pulled out a small mouthful of papers and set them on the table where the pencil had been, then grabbed the papers as Applejack turned back one last time to shut the shelf.

Quietly, Ember got to work: starting with what looked like an outline, an abridged table of contents, and headers for each page. Her eyes flicked from one sheet to the next, scribbled something out on one page, jotted down something else, then turned back to the first page and added more notes. “Hey, I know I said I wasn’t going to waste paper, but can I grab it from the drawer if I need more?”

“Sure.” Applejack paused for a couple of moments as Ember continued to take notes, before speaking up again. “Hey, Ember?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m…sorry about actin’ out of it earlier. That weren’t…that wasn’t good of me to do, was it?”

“No.” Ember sighed. “But there’s a question at the end of the apology, isn’t it?”

“Shucks.” Applejack chuckled, softly and without any sort of cheer. “...What’cha writing?”

“I really don’t think you want to know.”

Applejack’s brow creased. “Why wouldn’t I? If it’s somethin’ I did wrong—”

“It’s not.” Ember leaned back and set her pencil down on the table again. “It’s a draft of laws and edicts I’m going to need to flesh out when I get back.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a lot of fleshing out that needs to be done when I get home, but it’d really help me to have a cursory draft so I can expand on it more while I’m in the Dragonlands.” Ember’s tail twitched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Plus, while I know they’re probably going to be close to useless, getting at least some feedback from my subjects while I’m there is going to be important. Y’know, because what’s the point of a ruler who can’t actually rule responsibly? I’d be no better than my former thick-headed contender for the crown.”

“Uh huh.”

“Point is, there’s a lotta work to set up there. And that’s just for end-of-year prep, since I’m also gonna need to—”

“Y’know, hon,” Applejack cut in, “You said they’d all be close to useless, right? Talkin’ to your subjects?”

“...Yes. I did, in fact, say that.” Ember ground her tailtip against the floor. “Your point?”

“My point is that it seems like it wouldn’t be a bother for you to work someplace more comfortable—”

“I knew it” Ember snapped. “I knew you were getting at this.”

“At what?”

“Oh, don’t try to play innocent with me. Look, a schedule is a schedule—”

“I’m just sayin’ that it might be more efficient—”

“Is this how we’re going to have the conversation?” Ember stood up. “Because I was wondering if we should have had it some time ago, but then I just figured you had everything under control.”

“I have no idea what you’re gettin’ at.” Applejack stood up, glaring at Ember. “But I reckon that throwin’ blind accusations at your host ain’t good—”

“Blind? There’s nothing blind about it. Look.” Ember grabbed the first page off of the table and waved it in the air. “Get home. Start basic summary of kingdom analysis as a whole. Survey subjects. Draft tentative reforms and revisions to pre-existing law. Prepare end-of-year goals and speech—”

“I get it! Work’s work, lands’ sakes, I know that!” Applejack snapped. “You ain’t gotta continue.”

“—Give speech, signal end of year, begin processions to roll in new year, search for supplementary regent candidates, divide administrative responsibility—”

“Things you could do remotely, with letters—”

“—observe measurable schedule of changes, organize administration for rulership in absentia, outline further reforms if necessary—”

“An’ still you keep on with torturin’ yourself—”

“This isn’t about me!” Ember slammed the paper down on the table, hard enough to rattle the remaining silverware. “I’m doing this for everydragon else, which is my responsibility—”

“Responsibilities that your good ol’ predecessor never worked on!” Applejack fired back, glaring defiantly at Ember. “Don’t get on your high horse with me. You could be just the dragon he was—”

“He was garbage at this!” Ember spread her arms. “I’ve inherited nothing but jingoism and rubble! I’m not trying to just be as good as he was. I’m not trying to measure up with dragon standards at all! I want to actually be good at running things, good by pony standards, which is something I figured you’d appreciate.”

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t spend all your energy on a buncha slackjawed lizards who wouldn’t lift a pebble to build a road if they didn’t feel like it!” Applejack snarled. “The work’s not making you happy, and you know it.”

“You know what isn’t making me happy? Life.” Ember spat, walking right up next to Applejack. “Either I break my back for a bunch of flame-happy ingrates, or I break bread with them and pass up a chance to do something meaningful. I wallow in their ignorance or I wallow in the ruination I failed to do anything about. The difference between wearing the crown or not is that I get to make that choice, and I am not going to stand here and have somepony tell me my goals are hopeless and stupid.”

“I never said that!” Applejack craned her neck up towards Ember’s face.

“You implied it.”

“I didn’t imply diddly squat, okay? Don’t make this be about yourself.”

“Wha—how is this not about myself?” Ember sputtered incredulously. “That’s the whole reason you invited me up here, isn’t it?”

“So I could get a chance to see you for a last coupla days!”

“Because I have work to do.”

“How in the danged blazes are you actin’ like this is just casual work?”

Applejack’s sudden, much louder outburst shocked Ember into silence.

“You think I’m the only one who acts like they’ve got things up in their headspace? You think I’m the only one bein’ cagey about how this plays out? Horse apples, Em!” Applejack roared. “You’re just hidin’ all your feelings behind ‘I gotta do this, I gotta do that, this ain’t no issue, this don’t mean nothing.’ ”

“Because I have things I need to do—”

“Beecus I have feengs I gotta do” Applejack parroted back, tone flipping from angry to snide and back to angry again. “An’ those things mean that you’re gonna flap off to some craggy buttcheek end of the world, and who knows when we’ll get to see each other again?”

“I—”

“Yeah, yeah, you got plans. Plans change, ‘specially when you care mightily about somethin’. Maybe you’ll be gone for…what, until Winter Wrap-up? Months later, if things get slightly complicated. Maybe years later if things get more than slightly complicated. Or maybe you’ll have some big accident, or get wrapped up in a world-changing shindig, or some other calamity will happen beyond your control, and then ‘months’ turns into ‘never.’ An’ don’t try to pretend to me you ain’t at least thought of that.”

Ember answered with damning, deafening silence.

“Thought so.” Applejack exhaled, abruptly looking much smaller. “But I gotta be the villain here ‘cause I can’t blame things endin’ on account of other folks countin’ on me. I don’t get that excuse.”

“We can…” Ember started, blinking a little harder than was necessary. “It’s not over.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

Ember shrunk back.

“Thought so. Again.” Applejack’s voice cracked. “Y’know, it’s kinda funny. In the past, we had ignorance, an’ in the future we’ll have answers. But the only thing we got now, the only thing I can see? Uncertainty. Ain’t a whole lot to build a pairing on, really.”

“I don’t…” Ember gulped. “Want that. I’m trying to make things concrete so—”

“You’ve got a perfect idea for how things should be. You can picture it in your head, I know that.” Applejack’s voice cracked a little harder. “But you don’t know exactly how all the steps go. An’ because you don’t know all the exact steps, it ain’t a foolproof plan, and since it ain’t a foolproof plan there’s always gonna be something that can throw you off that you ain’t accounted for.”

“I know” Ember pleaded. “Do you think that I would be trying as hard as I am to make things foolproof if I didn’t care about coming back?”

“I…” Applejack wiped an eye with her hoof. “I know.”

“Yeah, I…I know you know.”

Awkward, heavy silence hung between them.

“This whole thing…I wanted it to be perfect so dang bad” Applejack finally said. “But it never coulda been, could it? ‘Cause things would always…we’d always have had to talk about this, one way or another.”

“Acknowledge this whole thing was…” Ember trailed off.

“Yeah…”

The silence returned. Ember took a deep breath, picked up the first page again and took another look at it.

Then set it down again.

“Six months. It’s just supposed to be six months. I want to try really, really hard to make it be just six months.”

“I know.”

“And…it’s hard to think about. Especially with the…” This time, it was Ember’s voice that cracked. “I thought you had things so under control that we wouldn’t need to have this stupid fight about it.”

“It ain’t a fight.”

“Then why are we both ticked off?” Ember sputtered. “I am. You are. We both know it.”

Applejack took a deep breath, but said nothing.

“And now I get to be the bad guy. I…I hate that so much, you know that?” Ember tried to mimic Applejack’s breathing, but her effort was shaky and hardly even a breath at all. “I get to be the one at fault, and I…I can’t even disagree with that idea.”

“Maybe you aren’t.”

Ember laughed; a short, sharp bark with no warmth in it at all. “Then, what, you think it’s you?”

“Maybe it ain’t either of us.”

“Then why does this hurt?”

Applejack didn’t reply. Briefly, she reached up, as if trying to comfort Ember; then her hoof drooped back down again.

Abruptly, Ember snorted. “Maybe if we said goodbye for real it would be easier. At least we’d know everything’s done for sure.”

“Do you want that?” Applejack replied softly.

“No.” Ember shook her head. “Never.”

It was Applejack’s turn to snort derisively. “Maybe if we’d never said hello in the first place, things woulda been happier. At least we’d never have to talk like this.”

Ember’s tailtip twitched. “Do you really believe that?”

“Nope.” Applejack shook her head slightly. “Not even a smidge.”

Ember walked back over to her seat, slumped down quietly and stared at the table with her head in her claws. “I hate this. I hate everything about this.”

Softly, Applejack took a step back from the table. “I do, too.”

“I’m sorry.” Ember sniffed. “I’m…so, so sorry about how this feels right now.”

Applejack coughed, then snorted. “It’s…I mean, it’s…not like I shouldn’t have expected it.”

Ember looked up, trying for a moment to make eye contact with Applejack, before realizing she lost any energy she might have had for it minutes ago. “...If you need to cry, I won’t judge.”

“Not on the outside. Not in front of company, anyway.” Applejack took another breath. “ ‘course, if you want to…”

“A dragon, crying in front of other ponies about something as silly as love?” Ember smiled bitterly. “I’d never hear the end of it. Especially from my own puffed-up ego.”

“Heh.” Applejack cleared her throat. “Fair enough.”

“I can…” Ember paused. “...I can get this done with as fast as we can, if you want. So we could play a game, or cuddle, or drink, or…”

Applejack shook her head. “It’s been a day. It’s ‘specially been an evening, an’ you’ve got important work to do. You should focus on doin’ it right. And I…reckon I’m feeling kinda exhausted and should probably sleep.”

“Oh.” Ember paused. “You…you do that. That’s a good idea. I’ll get this finished, put out the fire, then maybe tomorrow…”

“Yeah.”

Applejack turned and started trotting down the hallway, before looking back up at Ember. “Em…”

“Yeah?”

“...Guest bedroom’s the next one over from the bathroom, if you wanted to sleep alone tonight. I can respect that.”

“...Thanks. I…I appreciate you offering that.” Ember picked up the pencil and squeezed it between her talons. “We’ll see how I’m feeling after I get this properly written up.”

Applejack nodded, finished her trek down the hallway and opened the door to her bedroom. Ember looked away and tried her best to focus solely on her notes as she heard Applejack shut the door.

It took Ember a couple of minutes to start writing again.

The Refrigerator Light

Ember stirred. Something was wrong.

It was completely dark, for one thing. There was no way that she hadn’t woken up too early; it was dark enough that it was impossible to see what time it was on the little mechanical clock she had remembered seeing on a nightstand, and she remembered it being light enough to walk around when she had woken up yesterday.

She wasn’t warm enough, for another thing. She should have been curled around…

No. She shouldn’t have. She’d looked at Applejack’s bedroom door, froze, then went to the guest bedroom instead. Of course she’d chickened out. Of course she didn’t have the guts to wake her up.

No wonder things felt wrong.

That, and the…faint sounds coming from outside?

Ember sat up in bed a little. It was definitely a voice. Soft and far enough away that she couldn’t make out the precise words, but it wasn’t Applejack’s voice, and if nocreature else was supposed to know about this place…

Trouble. It had to be trouble. Silently, Ember slipped out of bed and crept over to the door. This time, she’d take care of the problem herself. This time, nocreature would have to get hurt.

Willing herself into near-stillness and silence, Ember quietly opened the door to the guest bedroom and slid like a shadow down the hall, following the unfamiliar voice until she peeked her head inside the main room.

Applejack was sitting by the counter corner, hunched over a tiny radio, illuminated only by a tiny desk lamp. The voice was coming from the radio: whether it was an advertisement or a channel bumper, Ember couldn’t tell.

She couldn’t tell if Applejack was really listening to it, either. Maybe she was just trying to fill the white space between being tired enough to sleep and being awake enough to be productive?

Or maybe she was just trying to erode the little voice in the back of her head.

Ember could sympathize.

Instead of continuing to sneak, Ember walked towards Applejack, being careful to maneuver around where she remembered the table had been. Her footsteps were audible, but not loud enough to drown out the radio. That way, if Applejack wanted to act like she didn’t hear her, she’d have an excuse. And if she did…

Applejack didn’t turn towards Ember until the dragon was right next to her shoulder. The talking switched over to a different voice: The radio bumper, this time.

Statements and questions filled Ember’s head

You’ve been crying. No, she couldn’t say that.

Do you want me to come to bed with you? No, that wasn’t appropriate either.

You’re gonna strain your eyes that way, you know. No, too casual.

But what was there to say—

“Ah.”

Applejack cut in, but her gaze had slid back to the radio. The bumper had finished, and the notes from an acoustic guitar had started to waft into the air.

“Mmm?” Ember replied, voice low.

“Nothin’, just…” Applejack turned back to Ember. “I like this song, that’s all. One of my favorites.”

A mare’s voice joined in with the guitar; one of those singers that Ember didn’t know the name of, but seemed to be all over the radio. At least, she’d heard her voice eight times in four months, and that was close enough to get the hint. After a few seconds, Applejack started humming in tune with the guitar; a second later, Ember realized it was the same song she’d heard Applejack humming the day before.

Ember paused for a couple seconds, then abruptly turned and walked toward the table. After feeling around for a bit, her claw eventually latched onto the back of a chair; gripping it a bit tighter than was necessary, Ember lifted it off the floor, carried it over towards the two of them, then dropped it right next to the refrigerator.

Applejack looked up at her, but said nothing.

“We never did try to dance.” Ember extended her claw. “Maybe it won’t work for any other couple, but…favorite song, right?”

Applejack nodded.

“Can you think of a better time to try?”

Applejack hesitated. Then, cautiously, she extended her hoof. Ember took it in her claw, holding it for a couple seconds before letting Applejack step down again.

Ember watched Applejack’s movements, trying to match hers as best she could. Four-legged dancing, it seemed, was a largely positional affair; stepping backward or forward in time to the beat at first, then side to side, then around; crossing over, then back again, then stepping closer until their legs almost touched. For all the bulky frames of quadrupeds belied, there was a surprising smoothness to the steps, interconnectivity that made grandiose movements seem like a well-oiled wheel, and Ember found her legs straining to keep pace with a bob and weave as fluid as the rising tide.

Bridge, chorus, verse; time, and even the music, seemed to fade, and it wasn’t until the bridge came around again that Applejack stopped, raising her forehoof, waiting.

Ember hopped back, lightly, and nimbly hooked her foot around the refrigerator door. The bridge buoyed her through an effortless twirl that kicked the door open, let her claws slide around the chair’s sides and forced it in front of the door, propping it open. The refrigerator light bathed both of them in its pallid glow as Ember nearly floated back to Applejack, grabbed her forehoof and lifted her up into the air, pressing chest to chest, cradling hoof to claw.

Then the chorus struck again, and time melted.

Limbs crossed and recrossed, bodies bobbed and wove, steps hooking around and around each other until they became a blur. Form ceased to follow function, form ceased to exist in the conventional sense in the refrigerator light; there was simply orange and teal, twisted around each other, twirling and twisting in a formless, impossible tango, bodies melted and mingled like twin raindrops trickling down a window.

The song ended. Another began, then another, until the pair didn’t finish their dance so much as stop, chest pressed against chest, abruptly silent and still, illuminated against the unceasing and apathetic darkness.

Sunday

Ember stirred, eyelids fluttering open.

This room…she recognized the room. It was the room she had slept in the night before. Applejack’s room.

And she realized what, or rather who, she was looking at: Applejack, sleeping softly, partially blanketed by her twisted, knotted, unkempt mane.

All was right with the world.

Ember let her eyelids drift shut again.

“Any chance you’re gonna share your recipes with me before I head out?”

Applejack chuckled, clinking the tines of her fork against her now-empty plate. “Well, I suppose I could, but then what would you be able to look forward to while you’re away?”

Ember snorted in amusement, setting her fork down and taking another gulp of apple juice. “How mercenary of you.”

“Learned from the best.” Applejack winked. “Besides, wasn’t it you who was sayin’ that they wanted to eat my cookin’ for the rest of their life?”

Ember grinned. “Mmmmmmmaybe.”

Applejack slid out of her chair. “Here, lemme just write those down real quick—”

“Uh uh. Changed my mind.” Ember held up a claw. “You were right! Even if I somehow manage to make them on my own, it won’t be the same.”

Applejack arched an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Ember sighed happily. “Just one more good reason to come back, right?”

“I getcha.” Applejack blushed, then—after a brief pause—reached over and grabbed Ember’s empty plate and utensils. “Lemme get these outta your way real quick. Oh, one more thing—I took a look at your notes real quick while you were in the bathroom this morning.”

Ember froze. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Applejack gathered up her own plate and utensils, stacking one set on top of the other. “Gotta say, Ember, I ain’t entirely comfortable with what you’ve got laid out there.”

An unpleasant chill ran down Ember’s spine. “Oh.”

“I get that havin’ a rail network runnin’ all the way out there is gonna do wonders for openin’ up the dragonlands, but even if you could finance it out of your own savings, you’re giving no reason for the Equestria side of things to want to maintain their side of the railways. Even if they charged a fair price to build a rail line out there, without havin’ a moneyed interest in keepin’ it working all the time, all the good it’s gonna do is to keep bleedin’ you dry.”

Ember’s jaw dropped.

“You’re expectin’ commerce to just flow into your borders once you plunk down a way to get to an’ from the dragonlands, and that ain’t how it works.” Applejack hoisted the tableware up onto one hoof and began an awkward three-legged walk back to the sink. “If you can get an industrial interest to want to keep transportation as shipshape as possible, that’s different, but that depends on if you have something to extract—”

“Gems.” Ember raised a talon. “Plenty of copper, too.”

Applejack slid the tableware into the sink, turned around and walked back over to the table. “Copper’s good, but don’t y’all eat gems?”

“You think dragons could survive somewhere where the gems aren’t bountiful? Of course there’s tons of gems here.” Ember leaned back in her seat and gestured at her notes. “I figured you would have picked up on that in the part where I talked about buying excavation and farming equipment. I thought we’d be able to sell those en masse—”

“They’re mostly decorative out here. You’d flood the markets right quick if you did it mostly for exports. Copper’s good, though.” Applejack eyed the notes again. “Lotta fancy doo-dads need copper these days. That’d mean lettin’ ponies mine things out of you, though, an’ raw resource exportation only props up an economy until the exports run dry. Plus, you gotta figure out where they’d be able to start mining. If it’s somewhere that dragons are already living on, then…”

Ember’s eyes sparkled. “...Oh, wow. Applejack, you’re actually a genius.”

Applejack took a seat again and cocked her head to the side. “Eh?”

“I’m, like, eighty percent positive I’ll be able to spin that to my advantage.” Ember grinned and started sifting through her notes again. “Not sure I’ve written it down here, but a lot of our elder dragons are effectively squatting on our lands and doing nothing with their absurd wealth but sleeping on it. So if I can…”

“Can’t believe the size of my headache right now.” Ember rubbed her temples and leaned back. “Ugh. Flying home like this is going to be a pain.”

“You’re tellin’ me. Whoof.” Hooves and mouth smudged with ink stains, Applejack sat up and stretched her legs. “I’m gonna get a mug of proper cider now. Want any?”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t drink before flying.” Ember yawned. “I really should have bought a canteen while I was here.”

“I got a thermos I could lend you.” Applejack hopped out of her chair. “Lemme go get it.”

“What? No way. I can’t just—”

“Too late.” Applejack trotted over to one of her cupboards, opened it up, grabbed a thermos between her teeth and set it on the kitchen counter. “There. I’ll just fill it up real quick. I don’t think it’ll keep warm the whole flight home, but—”

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Applejack stared at Ember, who stared impassively back. Or, at least, tried to. Any other creature in Applejack’s position would have seen Ember’s expression as neutral, maybe even bored.

“Eh?” Applejack replied.

“It’s…Making breakfast for me is one thing. But helping me out with my notes is…I didn’t think you’d even want to look at them, or acknowledge they existed at all. But…how is this just…” Ember’s neutral face belied her voice, which abruptly cracked. “...How do you not just hate my guts right now? I’m basically rubbing this in your face, aren’t you?”

“Sugarcube, you ain’t—”

Ember laughed; a hollow, bitter thing. “And now you’re the mature one of us. One talk, and…and a dance, and suddenly everything’s better? That’s horse app—”

“It ain’t better.”

Ember fell silent. Applejack took a deep breath.

“Crying on the inside, remember? Or at least, not the outside? It’s…it’s hard, it is. An’ I reckon I’m projectin’ a little harder than you are to try an’ keep calm. Though…” Applejack chuckled, dipping her head a little. “You are, too. Don’t lie.”

“Aheh. Caught…caught in the act.” Ember’s voice cracked again, and the corners of her mouth twitched a little. “But…I still don’t get it. It’s like you’re deliberately trying to hurt yourself.”

“It ain’t entirely that. It’s more like…” Applejack looked over at the fireplace, tipping her hat up slightly. “It’s more like I’m tryin’ to figure out exactly what we need to do, so we can do exactly what we should do. An’ I know there’s gonna be some sort of random chance to that, an’ things ain’t gonna go exactly to plan. But…”

Applejack opened her mouth, but fell silent. Ember sat up a little, rubbed one of her eyes, and took a breath before replying. “Not like building a cabin, huh?”

“Not in the least.” Applejack’s voice cracked as she looked back at Ember. “I think I’m lost.”

“So am I.” Ember chuckled.

Applejack giggled in reply.

And then, abruptly, the floodgates opened up again. Cracked, ugly laughter mixed with half-stifled sobs. Shoulders spasmed with all the regularity of an inebriated judge. At some point in time, Ember stood up, and she and Applejack began walking in each other’s direction, still making atonal hacking sounds in cacophonic harmony. It was as if both of them had borne witness to the world’s saddest joke, and were the most inarticulate audience in the world to express their appreciation for it.

And, at some point in time, Ember’s arms wrapped around Applejack’s back as she hoisted the pony into the air, and Applejack’s forelegs wrapped around Ember’s back, until neither laughed or said anything at all.

And in the background, faintly, the radio continued to play.

“I think…” Ember started, standing outside Applejack’s cabin, claw clutched around a small satchel containing her notes and Applejack’s thermos. “Okay, first, I think it’s really cold out here.”

“Ain’t that right.” Applejack shivered. “Temperature fell faster than I thought. Guess it won’t be long afore it’s time to bring back winter. Do y’all get…?

“Snow in the dragonlands? Not even close. Ash clouds, sometimes, but those aren’t fun at all. I guess it’ll be warmer, though.”

As if to emphasize the contrast, the wind picked up again, plucking red and brown leaves from their trees and kicking up a batch of leaves by the side of the trail.

“Hey, uh…” Ember started again. “The notes…”

“Yeah?”

“I think they’re gonna help as much as anything. It should be six months. Eight, tops. And I’ll hold myself to that.” Ember sucked in a lungful of autumn air. “You hold me to that too, okay? If I don’t hit the six month marker, feel free to, I dunno, punish me somehow.”

“Like what?” Applejack cracked a wry grin. “Kiss you until your beak’s sore?”

“Beak? My maw is perfectly contoured, I’ll have you know. You’re such a cruel pony.” Ember smirked, then shivered again as the wind sent another gust of leaves between and around them, swatting as the leaves danced around her face. “Gah!”

“Forever an’ always cruel to you. Just like you said on friday, remember?” Applejack chuckled, then paused. Ember stood in place, unmoving, staring at her fist, looking utterly shocked.

Then Ember opened her fist. Inside it was a bright red leaf, too hearty-looking to have wasted away on the ground.

The wind died down, and the two stared at the leaf in silence. Then, still silent, Ember reached out and threaded the leaf into Applejack’s mane.

“Huh?” Applejack replied, touching the leaf, taking care not to dislodge it. “Weren’t you tryin’ to catch one on friday?”

“I was. For a wish. But I figure that if I made one now, you’d know all too well what it was and it wouldn’t count. So I’m giving it to you. Make an awesome wish for me, okay?”

“Don’t you figure—”

Ember cut Applejack’s reply off with a kiss. For one final time, they lingered, mouth embracing mouth, still and silent, and the world around them fell away. In those moments, there was only stillness, silence, warmth.

And when Ember pulled away, it was only with the mutual, unspoken understanding that there was nothing left to say.

Ember paused, then—smiling as much as the circumstances permitted—spread her wings, steadied her grip on her satchel and took off into the sky. Applejack watched, silently, as Ember grew smaller and smaller, until she seemed a mere dot against the sky, slowly drifting above the trees until the canopy shielded her from view.

Then Applejack turned and walked back to the cabin, ready to finish up the last of the tasks she needed to do before heading home. And the tear that trickled down her cheek belied a genuine, peaceful smile.

The Clearing

“So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
‘Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity of our love.”

- John Donne