A Clap of Thunder

And so began the long, long healing process. Papa Rome was not kidding when he said three months. The dude seemed to have eyes on me every second because even if I was feeling alright, if he saw me try to get up, he’d come back the next day threatening to strap me down. Don’t know how much fighting this guy saw, but he was super serious about making sure I was back in good shape.

I get the feeling he knew a whole lot more than he let on, but there was just no reading the guy. He’d usually answer my questions before I had a chance to ask them. Most of the time, the answer was ‘no,’ or ‘don’t bother,’ since I was guilty of trying to pump him for information as often as I could. Never worked, but you can’t say I didn’t try.

Soon enough, I was introduced to the family and wheeled around in a chair every now and again. As it happens, Sweet Apple Acres had been here for a very, very long time. The history goes all the way past Nightmare Moon’s banishment, but that’s about where records get muddy. Not because of legibility; the language becomes something else over time.

Of course, I only mention this because all I could do to waste the hours away was read whatever was available or talk to the family.

I learned that my pink shape was Rose Quartz, the mother of the household, a mare somewhere near her early forties with a curly blonde mane and a bright pink coat. The yellow shape was the oldest son, Empire Apple, a huge kid with a green mane and yellow coat that would put a neon sign to shame. My pair turned out to be a couple twins, Jazz and Tango Apple. Tango, the girl, was the sweetest little freckled thing one could imagine. Jazz, the boy, fit the same description as his sister, save for the fact that he was only thirteen and nearly bigger than me.

Sometimes, it was rough dealing with this big family, but in all that, my consolation was the lovely Annie Smith Apple. I may have been a little delirious on the day I first woke up, but I knew what I was looking at when I saw her face. You don’t see this kind of natural beauty in Manehattan.

She was nice, she was funny, she attended to my every need, and she seemed really interested in me, if only to hear the stories I could tell. Well, the PG stories anyways. Papa Rome was very explicit on what I was allowed to talk about once Annie had the grand idea to go blab about what she’d heard.

It put a lot into perspective for me. This very sheltered farm was way away from everything. Out in the middle of nowhere with a village a couple miles east that had a cargo rail on it, but that was about as close to civilization you could get without walking northeast for a week to Canterlot.

But, as it does, time passed. March rolled around and though I felt weak, the doc cleared me for work again. More than anything, I was excited to be back on my hooves.

Spring was in the air… and I hated it. My sinuses weren’t accustomed to this surge of plant life, and by the Goddess, it was a surge. Flowers everywhere, crop plants in the fields, those fuzzy weeds spewing their fuzzy parachutes all over. I had to sneeze for a good minute every time I walked outside; it was a nightmare.

“Ya good, Spruce?” Annie asked.

I held up a hoof, feeling a sneeze that was right at the edge… and never materialized. My snout started running instead. “Good as I can be in this green hell.”

My chaperone for the day raised a brow. “Ya got all kinds of city phrases, don’t’cha? Green hell. Ah figure there’s a bit too much life around here fer that.”

“Look, are you gonna show me what I’m doing today, or are you gonna analyze my speech patterns?”

“Ah’m a pretty good multi-tasker.” She smiled easy, then swaggered off.

Being beaten to death by Papa Rome nearly seems worth it. I have to go back to Manehattan eventually, but maybe I don’t have to go back alone? You know, provided her dad doesn’t kill me first. She stopped her trot into the orchard to turn back toward me, putting those golden eyes on me again.

“Ain’t got all day, Spruce.”

It would be so worth it. I stretched, then caught up with her. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t get big like Rome by doin’ easy work all your life. What am I in for, Annie?” Come to think of it, side by side with her, even Annie was a little bigger than me. What do these ponies eat?

“Well, that depends on the day. Since you’re new, Ah’ll just show ya the basics fer now. If ya remember the map, the house is situated on the northern side of the orchard.”

Yeah, the very little mark for the house on the huge map that barely made it to the little village by the rail, and the pear orchard even further south.

“In total, fer the moment anyways, there are about seven hundred twenty trees over our eighty acres.”

I looked around at all the rows of green and pink trees. “Seven twenty? Like, seven gold and two silver? That many trees?”

Annie nodded. She pointed a hoof ahead of us. “About thirty-six trees to an acre fer yer average tree, but our trees have a habit of growin’ larger than average sometimes, so we have ta uproot and move a few of ‘em every now and again. It’s a little hard ta believe an Apple tree can get ta the size of an oak, but out here near that wild magic forest, sometimes these things happen.” She giggled to herself. “Can’t wait till ya see the Zap Apples in Fall. Ya think seven twenty is a lot? Just wait till we have ta harvest about three hundred in a week.”

I stopped. “What in Equestria is a Zap Apple?”

“We’ll get there when we get there. Fer today, they’re not important. Since it’s spring right now, all we really care about is maintenance on the trees.” She scanned the leaves all around us in their neat rows till she spotted something a few back. “There’s one. Follow me.”

Annie bounced her braids through the springy green grass when she stopped right at just another tree in the line. She pointed deep into the center. “Ya see what’s wrong with this picture, Spruce?”

I squinted. I squinted harder. I looked at another tree nearby, and to be totally honest, it was one of the hundreds around. “No.”

Disappointed, Annie rolled her eyes. She got up on two legs, then reached a hoof out to drag a branch down. She motioned for me to come closer. “Look at these leaves closely. Think of it like those cards ya told me about. There should be a level of uniformity, but these ain’t quite right.”

Like cards, huh? Our gambling dens usually used marked cards. Unless you knew where to look, you probably didn’t realize our guys always stacked the decks.

Some of the leaves on this little branch were the same as they all were, but then, I spotted it. Holes, frayed edges. A hooffull of leaves had been eaten by something. “So, bugs, yeah?”

“Eeyup. Not all bugs are bad fer the trees, but when ya see ‘em eatin’ leaves like this, ya gotta find one and figure out what it is. Aphids are a pain, but we usually leave ‘em alone unless they’re real bad. They’re prey fer some of our natural defenders like ladybugs, which eat a number of bad things we see in the orchard. Other things, however, also eat at the trees like this and do need ta be rooted out. What you’ll be doin’ fer most of spring, out here anyways, is walkin’ the fields and checkin’ fer signs of infestation or poor growth.”

Now hold on. Most of spring? This is all they do? And, not only that, she spotted a few damaged leaves deep in a tree from two rows away. Do they expect me to do that?

“There it is.” Annie reached up to another branch, then snatched a green tube off the tree. The little thing inched around her hoof, blending in with her coat. “Now this ain’t an aphid.”

“It… isn’t?” To be totally honest, the only ‘bugs’ I knew the proper names for were spiders and flies. We had a lot of those in Manehattan, and not these.

She raised a brow at me. “Sounds like ya need ta visit the insectopedia tonight. This is a fruit worm. They’re mostly harmless too, but they’ve got a nasty cousin called a leaf roller that looks awful similar. Fer the most part, all ya gotta do with these is shake ‘em off, but we’ve also got cottonseed oil that they don’t like ta spray around. Chewed leaves like these aren’t the worst thing ya can see on the orchard, and our nastier pests only come around in the summer and fall. Yer big worry is the moths and the fruit flies. Both of ‘em can ruin an entire acre of trees on their own, which destroys profits and makes fer hard winters. Luckily, they hate the oil, so that’s what spring is about. Sprayin’ down the trees, and—”

Her eye caught something, then she darted down the row to another tree with extra long grass by it. Or, no, actually, there was a little yellow flower at the base. She motioned me forward. “Weeds.”

Now it was my turn to raise a brow. “Weeds? Ain’t that just a flower?”

She rolled her eyes at me like I was some dumb kid. “No, boy, that there is a dandelion. See them dark spiky leaves? The hairy stems? They take up nutrients and space that the trees need. If ya see anythin’ that resembles this around the trees, ya reach down, and rip it out.” And she did just so, grabbing the whole plant at the base and yanking the thing straight out. “And fer this season on this part of the orchard, that’s just about it. Any questions?”

“Any particular reason you ponies keep calling me ‘boy?’ Because, it really doesn’t make me happy.” Always in that condescending tone, always with that look of, ‘are you an idiot?’ Always like I’m some lost child they had the grace to take in. No way I was fighting Papa Rome about it, but it almost stings more when she does it.

Annie ran those lovely eyes over me, then stopped at mine. Half her lips curled up. “Tell ya what, the day ya start ta act like a stallion, Ah’ll stop callin’ ya ‘boy,’ alright?”

I threw a hoof up. “What, I don’t act like one now?”

She drew a circle around me. “That thing ya just did? That’s somethin’ a boy does.”

“Oh, come on. Am I supposed to just know what you mean all the time now?”

She sighed and trotted off toward the orchard’s western side. “We got other parts of this place ta cover, hop to it, boy.”

I groaned. As happy as I would be to chase her tail, this isn’t how I envisioned it going.

With a week under my belt, I could confidently say that I was so screwed. Annie treated me like a kid, which was as infuriating as it is frustrating; the orchard days were easy because the field days were not; and at some point, we’ll transition into field harvest, which is apparently harder. On this farm, which was more farm than orchard as I found out, they grow a whole bunch of stuff. Cotton, wheat, corn, carrots, cabbage, onions, the works. Most of those plants require us to plow a field, but like, in the literal way.

Why were these ponies huge? Because they dragged hundred-pound plows across acres for weeks. And this was the easy season! Annie, Rome and Empire were all out there taking the big plows and cutting up five rows at a time for Mom and the kids to plant in, and I’m not strong enough to do that for an hour, let alone a whole day.

And the way they ate everything. The sheer amount of food they consumed at every meal just boggles the mind. Empire was five years younger than I am, but he’s nearly bigger than me, and by the end of the year, I suspect he will be. And there were two more of these ponies.

I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised. I learned a lot this week, and just surviving off apple sales would be difficult for a single family. With a few different crops for every season and preserves and secondary products for the winter, they had a constant cash flow, but this only works if all the work during the warm seasons is done correctly. And then there’s whatever Zap Apples are. That makes up a huge part of the account, but is totally unpredictable.

One of the things I did prove competent at was managing the books, and every year around the end of August to the end of October, there’s always a big spike in sales during one week. It’s a different week each year, and the amount varies wildly, but it’s always almost a quarter of the orchard’s earnings. My first natural question was ‘What the hell happened here?’ to which of course the answer was simply ‘Zap Apples.’

Nopony wants to explain any further than that. They have a big patch of land that blends into the Everfree which they have marked as ‘Zap Apple territory,’ and they basically don’t go near it. They’ve got a pretty crazy fence over there too, and that’s also where they keep the old war tools. Empire is happy to explain where they came from and who used them, but what they were used for now, he wouldn’t say. Well, any more than anypony else does, which is, ‘Zap Apples.’

One morning on my quest to figure out what these things were, Rose offered to let me try some of the leftover Zap Apple jam, and I could see why they were such a big seller. It was somewhere between rock candy and lemon cakes, the flavor sparked on your tongue like electricity. I’d never had anything like it. Supposedly, the fresh Zap Apples taste better than the jam, but because they were so scarce, the jam was the best way to sell it. It’s got a weird rainbow quality to it where any light that passes through it sort of shifts color depending on the angle. Kinda like oil-slick, but way brighter and more appetizing. A little rainbow in your mouth, literally.

I wouldn’t say I hate it here, but good Goddess, I am not looking forward to fall. Between the plowing, planting, and walking, I’m zonked at the end of the day. Fall is supposed to have picking, pressing, driving and the active selling of crops every morning at the market. Even with the seven of us taking turns to sell—which, how they trust their kids to walk all the way to town unsupervised and handle bits is beyond me—it was going to be a whole hell of a lot of work. A moment wasted was a bit unearned. If they didn’t take Sundays off for religious reasons, I bet they’d do it just to heal from the pain of the week.

Of course, no rest for the wicked. My only day of physical rest was spent rereading through the necessary plant and field guides that the family had kept and updated over the generations. Every weed, every pest, every magical anomaly the forest caused. I needed to know all of it last month and now I had to play catch-up.

Lucky to be alive, huh?

For once, out in this southern heat, I woke up to a fairly mild morning. I’m still a little surprised that I can wake up at six every day without help now, but I guess that just means I’m getting used to it. Just a few days ago, it started in the seventies and made it all the way to over a hundred at the peak of the day, but today? It was at least sixty, which in my book was an improvement.

Despite my earlier worries, life had stabilized over the past few months. The fresh food or whatever out here was definitely better for me than all the cheap restaurants I would go to back home, because even I was bulking up. Not quite ready for the huge plow, but I could at least pull as well as Annie. Though, all things considered, if I could ever pull that thing, I’d probably be twice the size I am now. Enough time here and maybe one day.

But that’s the thing—do I want to get used to this? In a weird way, because I’d gotten so comfortable here, I feel kinda… lost.

Back in Manehattan, there was always something new to do no matter how long I’d been working for the boss. My typical role as Undertaker, an intel-gathering op, an operator to smooth things over with new faces, an insurance salesman for new businesses in town. It was fun. I had guys under me, mares and booze and any kind of drug I could get my hooves on.

And yet… this is nice too, in its own way.

Annie knocked on the door. “Spruce? Are ya up yet?”

Course, maybe it was just that which was nice. My mane had gotten long; didn’t have any kind of barber around here, so I’d been growing a beard too. They say it makes me look more like a stallion, and frankly, I will take any points in that direction I can get. The ‘boy’ thing hasn’t died down as much as I would’ve hoped.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Upon opening the door, I was greeted by the ever beautiful Annie, surprisingly wearing a robe today. I looked at her confused, she looked at me.

“You cold?”

“Are ya not?”

I blinked. “Uh, no. Why would I be? This is, like, normal for where I’m from.”

She shivered, then turned toward the kitchen. “Ah can’t imagine it. Can’t stand the winter and this is just the first sign of it. Ya lived like this? All the time?”

Following, I shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, what, it’s September? Next month, it could be snowing up in Manehattan.”

Her ears stood up straight. “Snow!? Oh, thank the Goddess Ah’m here and not there. We’d freeze ta death if it snowed down here any more than it already does, and it’s too much as it is. Ah’d consider buildin’ a house further toward the south side of the orchard if Ah could.”

We sat at our places at the table while Mama Rose worked on breakfast. Papa Rome was in his seat with the Ponyville Gazette and a coffee, and the younger kids weren’t out of bed just yet.

“If ya went any further south,” Rome commented, “ya’d be that much closer ta Heirloom Pear, Sugarcube.”

Annie gagged. “Ah said if Ah could! Ah swear, the Goddess put that stallion there ta torment me.”

Rose brought a pan of hash browns by and dispensed them on everypony’s plates. “Come now, Sugarcube, the Pears ain’t so bad.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Sure, but ya know I can’t stand that crusty old grandpear. ‘If it ain’t Granny Smith, we grow this better, we do this faster, blah, blah, blah.’ Makes me wanna see how long cottonseed oil burns.”

Rome shook his head. “One of these days, you’re gonna have ta get over yerself. Unless somethin’ unexpected happens, you’ll both be here fer a long time, Sugarcube.”

She rubbed at her temple and leaned against the table. “Pa, Ah know that.”

“From first-hoof experience, I can tell ya arson usually isn’t a sure thing either,” I added. “No eyes on the ground, no proof to be found, ya get me?”

Anne narrowed her eyes on me one way, and Rome did it in another. According to the scarier glance, I coughed into my hoof. “Like, uh, ya know, trees grow back, right? We burned an old field here last month, didn’t we? Fire wouldn’t exactly scare him off.”

Annie let out a long breath. “Ah know that too. He’d know it was me, and then they’d go find a sheriff, and things would get messy, and Ah still wouldn’t be rid of that awful Pear. Besides, Ah ain’t got nothin’ against Anjou or Asia. Goddess knows they’re just as much hostages to their brother as Ah am.”

“Sis, ya ever think—” Empire yawned as he lazily trotted to the table “—maybe he antagonizes ya cause ya burned him?”

I frowned. “I thought we all agreed that arson didn’t work. Am I missing something?”

The golden young stallion shook his head before finding and emptying his own coffee cup. “Naw, Spruce.” He snorted. “Arson. Naw, Heir wanted ta increase the scale of his orchard by mergin’ it with ours.”

“Like, some kind of conglomerate? Do farms usually do that? With so few businesses out here, that’s kinda surprising that the concept even reaches this far.”

“No, Spruce,” Annie huffed. “Civil union.”

I think everypony expected me to know what that meant. It was terrible to have all these eyes on me while I was completely lost. It gave credence to the whole ‘boy’ thing and they’d catch me on it all the time with stuff like this.

“Which refers to…?”

The ‘are you an idiot?’ look plastered itself on Papa Rome. “Boy, do ya not know what a marriage is?”

Oh. Oh, that makes way more sense now. “Okay, look, I’ve just never heard it put in those terms. Even then, it’s not so common back in my part of the world. Ponies who had the means to got married, and I wasn’t around those kinds of ponies.” Then, it finally clicked. “Heir asked you to marry him?”

That blunt, straightforward brick of a stallion wanted Annie? Goddess, that’d be like smashing two rocks together. I knew Heir a little, and I was friendly enough with him to know that he was right about everything, even when he wasn’t, and Annie is also kinda that way too. Except, well, Annie isn’t wrong about anything.

Green cheeks turned red, Annie hid under her hooves. “Oh, Goddess, it was awful! Collared himself with a tie, brought me some ugly, stinky flowers from Canterlot and figured it was a done deal! Ta this day, Ah can’t understand who put it in his head that that’s all it would take. It’s like he didn’t even consider if Ah liked him or not.”

The now three male Apples chuckled. “Sis, give him some slack,” Jazz said. “It’s not like anypony can work up the courage ta poke a bugbear.”

“Ya little runt!” Launching from her seat like the aforementioned creature, Annie tackled her youngest brother till he was totally at the mercy of her ticking hooves.

“N-no, stop it! It’s too e-early fer this!”

Tango appeared from the hall and clasped her hooves together. “Sorry Jazz, now ya must suffer this fate brought on by yer own hooves.”

Papa Rome knocked twice on the table. “Amen. Now y’all quit screwin’ around and sit down fer breakfast.”

Sighing, Annie brought her little brother into a hug and rested her head atop his. “Yes, sir. Come on, Jazz.”

They returned to their seats, Mama Rose brought the rest of the dishes to the table, and once everypony was served, the morning was back on track.

Of course, every thought about comfort and familiarity had gone out the window. Now, there was a much more pressing matter at hoof.