A Clap of Thunder

by KorenCZ11

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Granny Smith, Romance, Original Character, Profanity, Violence, Slice of Life, Sex
Length: 17582

A young stallion has his life derailed

Deep within the corruption of Manehattan, a young stallion lives on a never ending high. From one heart pounding job to another, he couldn't ask for better.

So, what does he do when the boss tells him he has to go?

His whole world comes tumbling down all at once, and from the top of his tower, he falls into an unmarked train car southward bound. Where it ends up is anypony's guess. With another swig of that Apple liquor, he'll find out where he lands when he wakes up.

An entry in the Ancestral Tribute contest.

Pre-read by Comma Typer.

Published 2022-10-15 14:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-10-15 14:00:01 UTC

Neon lights and neon dreams

“Damn it, stop struggling!”

Day was beginning to break over the horizon. The body under my hooves—a rope around his neck, a burlap sack over his face—was fighting desperately for life. It was hard to hold down, but he hadn’t been strong enough to overpower me when all this started, so he wasn’t now either. My screaming muscles tightened my grip, both hooves pushing down harder in the shallow water.

Just a little more, just a little more! The hooves kicked, the thrashing became more frantic, more terrified. I squeezed harder, trying my best to not leave a mark. Nopony can know I did this.

Splashing slowed. The bubbles became fewer. One last push! And then, I felt it. The thing I’d been waiting for. Defeat. Resignation. An end to this.

The body stopped.

I let go, giving him the chance to sink. You only let your captive revive once. That mistake wasn’t one you make twice.

Movement stopped completely. No floating, the rock was done and down at the bottom. He’d be full of water and hard to transport, but better that than give him the chance to live to tell the tale. I pulled the corpse back up, loaded him into my cart, threw a tarp over him, and made my way back to the warehouse. Any walk becomes a long one with cargo like this.

Manehattan’s dawn had finally crested. Nopony was out at this hour, at least not in this neighborhood in the sleepless city, but that didn’t make me any less wary.

The cops had gotten bolder as of late. Wandering into places they shouldn’t, making arrests where we had deals. Things have gone so far south in the last few weeks that it makes my head spin. But, with this little piece out of the puzzle, all that should fall apart.

The bricks I asked for were laid out right where I expected them. With all the material in place, the next part, the most vile part of this job, was the real tough task.

Unicorns were way more common now than they had any right to be. Magic everywhere, new spells that could find ponies. Another new development that ruined the delicate balance we had. They’ll know he’s missing soon. However, our lovely media, who also hated this guy as much as we could pay them to, would keep the real story locked away with the key thrown out.

It’s the secret he could never figure out—how far they were in the tank for us. Why won’t they report on the boss? Because they love the boss. Why isn’t anypony covering the murders? Doesn’t fit the narrative. Manehattan is falling to ruin with all the crime and drugs washing over the city; doesn’t anypony notice?

A few things in this city you aren’t supposed to say, and that was one of them.

After a few hours, my gruesome duty was done. One heap in the furnace, the other in my tarp lined with bricks, I set to work tying the bundle together. Got to be careful about the smell. Doesn’t get too hot in Manehattan this late in the year, but anypony with a nose in a ten-mile radius isn’t going to miss this. Match lit, the kerosene poured all over the inconvenient traceable parts, I tossed it into the housing. Blast door shut, that nice hickory I cut the other day masking the smell, this piece would be gone for good.

It’d been a long day. Never would’ve believed a guy like this could be as honest as he was, but he did like his booze. He had good taste in liquor at least, I’ll give him that.

Thinking about it a little harder, I dug around the crates in this place for the one where I kept my personal stash and pulled out the bottle I was looking for. A little farm out somewhere in the middle of the country, not too far south from the capital but nowhere near anything relevant, sold it through a shipping startup out there.

Hard apple liquor, 1955. Only a couple years old, but the taste would be just as good as any of the expensive crap the boss likes. Some ponies just get off on having a price tag to show around. I poured a triple into a little glass I had for just such an occasion. Wasn’t the first time I’d done this, nor would it be the last.

They think the shovel means I’m bound for construction work. Oh, if only they knew. They won’t, though. The system in place, the machine running right, Manehattan is set to return to normalcy. One false report, one missing pony, and this whole movement for a ‘safer Manehattan’ would die out like embers in an ash heap.

When the sun went down, I’d take my load to the harbor, and that would be the end of it. For now though, I had time to kill. One more problem taken care of, Undertaker had his day of rest.

The whiskey went down smooth. A quiet burn at the back of my throat, the sweet hint of apple at the end of the swallow, this stuff was too easy to down. We’ll stop at one for now. When the job is done, that’s when I can really relax. Until then, sleep was calling to me.

I’d like to think that hiding in plain sight was the boss’s special talent. You couldn’t really tell what he was meant to do based on the knight chess piece he had on his flanks, but if nothing else, it made him popular with the intellectual class, and that’s all the currency you really need to rise in a business like this.

For Equestria, and probably the rest of the world, Manehattan was a technical marvel. Factories that forged steel, new construction techniques that let us build higher and higher into the sky until we got to the point where we had to worry about wind actually knocking things over. The pegasi can eat their hearts out. The unicorns can take their fancy castles and shove ‘em where the sun don’t shine. This was earth pony engineering at its finest. First the skyline, then the stars above. Together, we’d make Ebon Chevalier’s dream a reality.

“Undertaker,” he called from his desk at the head of this immaculate room.

“Sir?” I stepped forward on the red carpet, waiting for the praise I knew I was here for. The reward for my task, the accomplishment of retaining power in the city, the savior of the gang and all our—

“They found him.”

I blinked. I searched the boss’s violet eyes for any hint of humor, and worse than that, I found the slightest twitches of worry instead.

“But… but that can’t happen! I threw him in our harbor, they—”

He clopped a hoof on his big granite desk. The sound was deafening in this big glass room.

“Somepony saw you with him the night before.”

The alley was clear, nopony followed me. The drunk bastard didn’t even have a security detail. There’s no way.

The boss continued, “One of those sharp-eyed old mares who aren’t in our network, you know the ones. The ones who aren’t fond of us. She lives on the corner of 91st, and just so happened to remember to take her laundry back in her apartment when she noticed that a ‘young, pale yellow stallion with a red mane’ was walking the gubernatorial candidate home. She thinks she remembers seeing a shovel on your flank.

Anger flashed through my veins. “She’s full of shit! It was pitch dark! I made sure I was away from the lights!”

The boss’s security, all four of the burliest stallions in Manehattan, took a step toward me, but stopped at a signal. “Whether or not that’s true, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that she spoke with her son about it, a middle-aged stallion who goes by the name…” He sighed and ran a hoof through his glossy black mane. “…Bird’s Eye.”

I bit into my hoof. Shit. I checked the eyes of all the guards in the room, and none of them looked any more confident than I did. This cannot be happening.

“That spook ain’t here, is he?”

Rubbing at his temple, the boss turned his big chair toward the northern window. His next project, the Manehattan Building, was slowly coming together as beams on giant cranes were lifted from the ground to the top as worker ponies riveted them into one another. A giant structure like blocks a colt would play with, on a scale he could only imagine. One day, it would be taller than the castle atop Dragonspine. The princess could have all the labor from all the ponies they wanted for their thousand-year-old abode, but us? We’d build something bigger and better in a matter of months.

“You need to leave Manehattan.”

I swallowed. “But, sir—”

“That wasn’t a request, Undertaker.”

My rear hooves slid out from under me. I have to leave? Manehattan? I was born here. I grew up here. The gang's here, my friends are here, we had a goal, a vision!

Bravery compelled by fear had me speak up again. “Sir, can’t I just lie low for a while? I don’t have anywhere else to go. Manehattan is my home.”

The boss took a deep breath and turned back around to face me. He nodded to one of his guards, and the huge guy took a bag from some hidden compartment and brought it to me. It jingled when it landed heavily next to me on the carpet.

“You have been one of my best assets, Undertaker, don’t misunderstand me. I value you and your service to the cause more than most, but this is Bird’s Eye. The crown will know if he goes missing. This isn’t a problem we can just take care of like usual. You understand—if he gets you, he gets me—don’t you?”

I gritted my teeth. I ought to find that old biddy and dig her an overdue grave too! Damn it, damn it, damn it!

“What…?” My mouth was so dry. Where’s that liquor when I need it? “What should I do, sir?”

“In that bag is a map of a hoofful of frontier towns I’ve marked out for you. Bird’s Eye never stays anywhere for more than a couple years. You pick one, or all of them, and keep out of sight for at least five years. When things have cooled down, I’ll send for you. But, and I cannot stress this enough, you cannot tell anyone where you’ve gone. Unicorn magic has ruined enough for us, and if the crown gets involved, we’re subject to truth spells. If they find you, they find me. Remember that, Undertaker. Pick a new name, pick a place, and the bits in there should be enough for ten years, let alone five.”

I grabbed the bag and checked the contents, remembering all the lessons this stallion has taught me over the years. As long as I don’t spend it all in one place, nopony should question a guy carrying a few coppers around.

“It means a lot to me, that you’d take this good care of me, sir.”

“I know, Taker.”

I felt… so lost, looking at this stallion. To have to say goodbye to the only stallion who ever thought I was worth a damn after all these years. All the skills I’ve learned, all the experience I’ve gained, all the ponies I know. For the first time in my life, I noticed how old he looked. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the strands of silver coming into the black beard, the weight of age on his once strong shoulders.

I cinched up the bag, got to my hooves, and threw it on my back. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, sir.” I was about to move.

“Taker.” He got up out of his chair and came close. “Eventually, every stallion has to make it out on his own. If the day comes when you find out we can’t see each other again, remember that…” He fumbled his words, emotion clear on his face. He brought me into a hug. “I wish my son had been more like you.”

Goddess, what is he trying to do, break me before he sends me off? Come on, sir, don’t do this to me.

He pushed himself off, patted my shoulder, gave me a light smile, then nodded to the guards.

I bit deep into my lip as the stallions ushered me to the elevator. I understand physical pain. I can deal with physical pain. It was almost not enough.

I paid off my landlady, told her to get rid of everything however she wanted to, just to make sure my name was scrubbed off her records. She was in the network, so she’ll know the drill here in a few days. I was never much of a spender, and if I couldn’t eat it, I didn’t need it.

One thing, though, was that little ukulele. Only thing I remember about mom was this thing, and for the life of me, I could never get rid of it. Between that and the shovel pendant the boss had given me on completion of my first job, there wasn’t much else worth keeping.

I changed about one platinum for a couple golds, a hoofful of silvers, and way too many coppers. On that alone, I could probably get by for a few years, but it was better to be generous with coppers than be stingy with the higher value stuff.

I decided that it was best there were no records of me leaving Manehattan. Hooves were greased, and I was allowed to hang out in the train yard overnight and hop aboard a freight train headed south. I didn’t ask any questions because if I don’t know where I’m going, nopony else can either. South was rural, south was safe. Anywhere I end up is fine.

So much power in Manehattan, all slapped down by a single unicorn, the bastard.

Still, it wouldn’t be so bad. With me out of the picture, nothing could really lead him to the boss other than speculation. These honor types like Bird’s Eye have to play by the rules.

Around six in the morning, my little box was shut by my buddy with the rail union. A pile of hay, a few crates that didn’t smell, and a blanket or two, and I was off to who knows where. I took out the apple liquor and the old uke, tuned it up right, and played and drank for a while before sleep took me. It was going to be a long ride.

“Good Goddess! Pa, Pa there’s somepony here!”

My head was throbbing. Couldn’t feel my shoulder, my body ached like nothing else, and for the life of me, I couldn’t get my eyes straight. The whole world was blurred and wrong.

“Hey, boy, are ya alright? Oh, Goddess, he’s bleedin’! Pa!”

Green. Braids. Orange. Eyes were messed up. My body hurts, can’t move half my legs. I know I drank most of that bottle, but I shouldn’t have been that hammered. What is going on?

“Annie, get him on my back! We gotta get him back ta the house!”

A mass of red obscured everything. A little trickle down my face made everything even redder.

“Everythin’s gonna be alright, boy, don’t’cha worry none! Stay with me, please? Can ya feel my hoof?”

I rolled, but something sharp stabbed my side. “Fuck!” I tried to grab a spot, but my hoof refused to respond. A little shoulder movement, but it was like the rest got disconnected.

“Be more careful, Annie!” the bigger, redder voice said. “Run on ahead and tell Ma we’ve got a survivor! He’s real messed up. Lots of broken bones, brusin’ everywhere. Bloodloss. Ah’ll have ta move slow.”

Pain and heat and cold and pain. Good Goddess, the pain. A wave, even worse than the burning cold or the freezing heat, washed over me.

Flames that run down through my veins

Consciousness came and went like a revolving door. The green shape and the red shape were there pretty often, but they weren’t the only ones. A yellow shape, a pink shape. A pair of shapes that always came and went together. Sometimes, my vision was clear to see a huge stallion, a lovely mare, a couple of kids, an older lady. But that’s it.

The thing I wished the most was for the dreams to stop. I hated seeing those dreams. They always started the same way.

A stallion walks in from behind a curtain. I’m hidden in a corner of the room somewhere, a little wooden toy in my hooves, trying my hardest to be still and silent. Mom greets him, way more friendly than she would normally, but this isn’t somepony I know.

She’s left a wreck on a mattress and the stallion walks away.

The dream starts over and repeats, but it’s always a different stallion. Once, it was that stupid politician. Another time, it was the boss. The last time, it was the unicorn Bird’s Eye. While he was with mom, he looked at me, like he could see me in my hiding place, knew I was there.

“I’ll find you,” he cooed.

Slap, slap.

“And after I get you…”

Slap, slap.

“He’s next…”

He put a bag over mom’s head, a rope around her neck.

I tried to call out, tried to run and stop him, but I was stuck in a hole just big enough for me to fit inside. Not an inch to move, barely enough room to breathe, and every time I did, a needle would stab me.

He was at the fountain in my old neighborhood. It hadn’t run in forever, and the water was stagnant and swampy, but it was just deep enough to drown in.

Bird’s Eye smiled at me. “You know what happens next, don’t you?”

I tried to open my mouth, I tried to scream, but nothing would come out.

Please, don’t do this to her, she didn’t do anything to you!

But Mom went under. She didn’t even struggle. Bird’s Eye held her down as the bubbles rose to the surface, quickly at first, then slower and slower.

You have to fight back! You can’t let him keep doing this to you! Mom, please!

“Mom!”

I sat up and immediately regretted it. “Mother fucker!”

Pain blossomed in my side. I moved my right hoof to stop it, but that, too, flowered into burning agony.

“Well, he’s up,” a concerned but dejected feminine voice called from beside me.

“Thanks, Sugar, but Ah’m sure the whole house knows it now,” a much deeper, gruff, masculine voice called back.

As the pain receded, I could feel the air of a massive stallion nearby.

A cup was put to my lips. “Here, boy, drink this. It should make ya feel better.”

Anything to make the pain go away. I didn’t even question the bitter taste. Once it was all gone, I sank back into the pillow and croaked, “Thank you.”

A huge red head with a leafy green beard and mane appeared above me. “You’re welcome enough, but ya’ve gotta stop cursin’. The kids don’t need that kinda language in their ears.”

It took a moment for me to register I was talking to somepony. The face was so foreign that I couldn’t place it anywhere. Nothing like the ponies I used to know, nothing like the ponies I’d even seen around Manehattan. The golden irises glaring down at me were mesmerizing. I’ve never seen a color quite like that.

“Oh, sorry.”

“At least you’re alert fer once. What’s yer name, boy?”

“Boy?” I tried to sit up to declare how offended I was, but got a sharp reminder that my right side was very injured. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Boy, if ya don’t stop that, I’ll give ya somethin’ ta really make ya curse.”

“Come on, Pa, let him be fer now,” The mare intervened. “This is the first time he’s been conscious in ten days.”

“Ten days!?” I nearly shot up, but stopped the moment the first wave of pain caught me.

“Stay down!” the stallion commanded. “You’re not in shape enough ta sit up yet, boy.”

When the pain had cleared enough to give me focus again, another set of those golden eyes stared back at me. Only, these were softer. Gentler, kinder, nicer eyes than that stallion’s. These were the kind of eyes you could get lost in.

To make sure they were real, I figured out which foreleg still worked and reached up to touch the face attached to them. “What… beautiful eyes.”

She went from bright green to beet red in an instant and backed off. “M-maybe he ain’t so alert as we thought.”

The stallion grunted. “He’d better be.” He clapped his hooves by my ear, and my head turned to face them. “Ya got a name, kid?”

Boy. Kid. This old man has no idea who I am. I’ve killed ponies bigger than him before, I—

It hit me like a brick to the face.

I left Manehattan on a train. How did I get here? Where is here? Who are these ponies? That’s right. Undertaker has to disappear. I can’t even be the pony I was in Manehattan. Do I have a name? I always thought I’d figure it out later, but I need it now.

I looked around the room for anything I could find. Unpainted, maybe varnished wood made up the little box. A carved stick had a plastic bag stuck to it filled with water. A little tube ran down it and… oh, geez. It disappeared under a ton of gauze wrapped all around my body. Left hind leg tied to sticks, right foreleg tied to sticks, a huge patch over the right side of my barrel. What the hell happened?

The piercing gold eyes were still waiting on me, and growing impatient.

“I’m sorry, sir, my head’s a little messed up still. I can’t quite remember.”

The old man raised a brow. This was not the guy to bullshit. There is no way he didn’t know I was lying, but he didn’t press me on it. Instead, he held his stare as he rubbed his beard. “Well, Ah suppose ya had a pretty nasty head wound when we found ya. Figured I’d have an unmarked grave on the property after too long, but ya pulled through somehow.”

“Pa!” the mare chided. Green coat the same color as the stallion’s beard, pale yellow braids along either side of her head beneath an apple print bonnet. Hoofmade, by the looks of it. And those eyes…

She turned to me and put a reassuring hoof on my good one. “Oh, don’t listen ta him. Pa used ta be a field medic, he’ll see ya through.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Though, ya really were awful messed up when we found ya out in the woods.”

Woods? What woods was I near? I thought I was headed south somewhere. “Uh, look, guys, I really don’t remember much of anything. What happened, where I am, who you are. Ya mind filling me in?”

The old man raised that brow again. “Sure didn’t forget how ta talk like a Manehattanite.” The big red stallion crossed his forelegs and closed his eyes. “Ya were on a south bound cargo train that had the unfortunate timin’ ta cross under a rock slide. This kinda thing happens, but they usually avoid incidents like this. Awful unlucky ta hitch a ride like ya did. Train derailed, the drivers were killed when the engine exploded in the crash after it rolled down the mountain.”

I swallowed. “Good Goddess.”

One eye popped open. “You’re damn right. Y’all were lucky enough ta be in an unsecured box and landed on a tree, where Ah assume ya broke yer ribs and foreleg, then hit the ground after a heavy snow, which is uncharacteristically early fer December in Whitetail. Must’ve caught yer hind leg when ya did and managed ta get away with just that. Though, ya had a whole bottle of our liquor in yer system, so Ah’m a bit surprised that didn’t kill ya first. Then again, maybe bein’ blackout drunk saved yer life too. Body limp, easy ta bend. Probably kept ya from bein’ any worse.”

Oh. I should be very dead right now.

The mare… Annie, I think, coughed into her hoof angrily at her father. “What Pa means ta say is that ya should be thankful we were out gatherin’ wood when we were. We saw the whole crash from start ta finish. We couldn’t save the drivers, but Ah spotted ya a few yards off from that empty car. You’re awful lucky ta be alive.”

Luck is one thing to call it, I guess. Two broken limbs and a few broken ribs, and all I got was this shirt.

Awareness caught me and I scanned the room. It wasn’t there. “You… didn’t happen to find anything with me did you? Like, a—”

‘Pa’ knocked his hoof on the wall. “Ya know, that reminds me. What’s an early twenty somethin’s kid doin’ with a couple thousand bits and a ukulele?”

I frowned.

“Pa, please.”

A look passed between the two goilden-eyed ponies, and begrudgingly, the stallion turned away.

Out of the pan and into the fire. He doesn’t want me cursing in the house, he’s perceptive, and he’s got my number. I am going to have to find a way to be honest with this guy without letting the truth out, and that’s a tall order. With my legs and ribs like this, I’m not going anywhere any time soon, either. Let’s just hope he’s not a colt scout too.

“Look, sir, I really don’t care about the money. My… father had run into some trouble in the city and he wanted to protect me, so he sent me away as quietly as he could. The Uke and the pendant are all I really care about. You can keep the cash as payment for this and everything else I’m gonna need, alright?”

The old man tilted his head. “Sounds like yer head’s all clear now. What was that name again?”

Fuck. What did she say, field medic? Good Goddess, if he’s got ties to the guard, I am so screwed. What is that thing made out of again? And the shovel on my ass, uh… “Spruce Digger, sir. My name is Spruce Digger.”

He frowned. “Is that right?” The massive stallion stood and put his head eye level with me, not a hint of mercy in those mesmerizing golden eyes. “Well, Spruce Digger, Ah’m Rome Apple, and this here is Sweet Apple Acres. We’re an honest bunch on this farm and we like clean, over-the-table deals. Ah won’t take yer money, and Ah’m not about ta abandon a pony in need, but ya eat my food and use my supplies, so ya are gonna pay fer it. It’ll be March by the time you’re healthy enough fer work, but that’s just in time fer plantin’ season, and we could always use an extra hoof around the farm. We understood, Spruce?”

He put a hoof near my left for a shake. No matter where you go, there are always colt scouts stuck in the mud. Lucky is a word for it.

I shook the hoof. “Yes, sir, Mister Rome.”

Rome smiled cold and hard. “Good. Now, you and Ah are gonna get real intimate here in a minute because Ah need ta change yer bandages. If ya wanna keep yer jumblies, Ah suggest ya cooperate and expand yer vocabulary.”

Annie flushed and got up from her seat. The old man winked at her. “Why don’t’cha go get Mister Spruce here some soup, Sugarcube?”

“Y-yes, sir,” she complied quietly.

The moment she was out of the room, Rome shut the door and locked it. He turned around and we were all business now. He picked up a roll of gauze and started with the patch on my chest. “You the kid who killed Clean Slate?”

My heart jumped into my throat.

He sighed. “Don’t answer that. Punks like you don’t have the kinda control on their bodies real politicians do. Yer voice can lie, but yer body can’t. Birdie would have ya on a choppin’ block faster than Ah could right now if he found ya.”

What is going on here? This guy quite literally has me by the balls. What does he want from me?

He started undoing the gauze on my thigh, moving very carefully and very gently as he got down to the break. The whole leg was swollen right around it, and him deftly moving the split as he was still hurt like hell. I didn’t dare make a sound.

“The swelling is bad, but the break was clean. Miracle upon miracle left ya alive long enough ta make it this far. Ah just wonder if helpin’ ya out here is even the right thing ta do.” He glared hard at me, shook his head, then went back to work. “Roll on yer side.”

I didn’t bother hesitating. Not only am I a dead stallion walking, our whole business is gone if I can’t get this guy on my side. He’s one of us, isn’t he? His daughter is an earth pony too. So long as his whole family is, maybe I can convince him it’s for the best if the boss takes over. No more unicorns, no more pegasi on top, but us, after all these centuries. Their magic makes them small-minded, their wings make them careless. We have technology on our side, we have the ponies on our side. Once we build something stronger than them, they could never beat us.

“Look, sir—ack!”

He gently pressed a hoof right on the break in my right foreleg. “Don’t speak. Ah know yer type. You’re a true believer. Ya’ve got reasons ta follow whatever bad ideas are in yer head and whoever put ‘em there. Ah was only in Manehattan fer a little while in my youth, but even then, the corruption was palpable. Can’t imagine what a shit stain it is now.”

He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t get it! If I could just explain it to him, he could see our vision, he could see what the boss sees for us!

I went to open my mouth, but Rome caught my eye and put his hoof right above the break again. Tail between my legs, I remained silent.

“There’s a good boy.” He unwrapped and rewrapped my foreleg in quick silence until he was satisfied with his work. He inspected everything, then threw the sheet back over me. “Ya got any family, Spruce? And Ah mean blood relatives, specifically. Ya can answer this one.”

“No, sir.”

The old man licked his lips. “Better question. Do ya know what yer father’s name was?”

A deep, cold pit burned in my stomach. “No.”

He let air out of his lips. “Typical Manehattanite, alright.”

Rome got off the bed, then sat back down in front of me, looking down on me like some superior being. What an asshole. I swear to the Goddess, I’ll pay you back for this.

“Ah was never one ta kick ponies when they’re down, so fer now, Ah won’t. With all the stuff Ah’m burnin’ ta keep ya alive, Ah figure ya owe me at least a year of service. Ah’ll even do ya a favor and harbor ya like the fugitive ya are till ya pay off yer debt. With Birdie around, ain’t likely ya can ever go back ta Manehattan again anyways. A news article from a few days ago said they’d already frozen the accounts of some real-estate guy who was on track ta build the largest structure in the world.”

No… no, no, no! This can’t be happening! All because some crusty old hoe saw me? Everything we were working toward, it’s all… No, no, that can’t be right. We had the news on our side; how could this guy out in the middle of wherever this is get that kinda news? She said it’s been ten days since the crash, so that means it’s only been two weeks since I left, and three since Clean Slate was put down. The government does not move that fast unless we make it. That can’t be right.

Of course, this equally crusty old fart was practically reading my mind. “Ah know it’s hard ta believe, but on occasion, the good guys do get a win every now and again, far and few between as they are. Ya give me a year, and Ah’ll let ya walk. Ah shouldn’t, really, but Ah can’t help but think you’re just a boy with a bad stallion pullin’ yer strings.”

He put his hoof next to my good one. “Behave well, and we’ll forget ya were ever here. Do we have a deal?”

Damn it, damn it, damn it! What else can I do? What else… was I going to do? Boss told me to disappear for a while. If… if this guy is just bullshitting me just to get an indentured servant for a while, then this can still be fixed. I’ll just go to one of my towns like I was told and the boss will come find me. One year, five years, what’s it matter? I’ve got all the time in the world. I can wait. For the boss, I’ll wait forever.

This asshole wants a year, then he can have it. “Alright, Mister Rome. We’ve got a deal.”

I shook the hoof with as much strength as I could muster, but it was practically nothing compared to his iron grip. He smiled. “Good.” He was about to unlock the door, but stopped. “Oh, and if ya make a pass at any of my girls, Ah will personally castrate ya faster than Birdie could ever get his hooves on ya.”

“Ow, ow, ow!” My poor broken legs tightened what muscles they could and pulled on the very sensitive healing parts of my body. Never in my life have I felt such overwhelming fear.

“Ah’ll take that as a ‘yes, sir.’”

Tell me where you'd rather be

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.

Hold on to your wishes if you can't hold on to me

Later, Annie and I were in the main orchard, picking the early apples. Harvest season was less than a month out, and right about now is when some of the main produce of this farm, the apples, were ripening. The big legwork days would be in October, or whenever the Zap Apples decided to show up—that could happen any day now—but until then, we were on apple duty.

After a few months I was trusted enough to do most tasks on my own to Papa Rome’s satisfaction, but this part was new and I needed to be trained for the upcoming season again. Like a colt with shiny new bits in his pocket, I had a question in mind that was going to burn a hole in me if I didn’t get to it soon.

“Now, there is a trick ta buckin’ apples, but it’s real difficult ta explain. Ya see, there’s a spot on every tree where the magic in yer hooves and the magic in the plants connect. It sorta finds its way up ta the ripe apples and knocks ‘em all off the branches. Over time ya know which is which and where ta kick, but every tree is different and sometimes they’re finicky.”

“Hey, Annie?”

Concern washed over her. “Oh, did Ah explain that wrong? Ah’m sorry Spruce, Ah’ve never had ta teach anypony this part. We all grew up knowin’ what ta do, and it’s been hard ta think through what actually happens.”

I shook my hoof. “No, no, I think I get the tree thing.” Well, kinda. The family books talk about trees and magic, and this is how the Apples have been able to manage such a large orchard for so long with just a single family, but I haven’t seen it in action and I don’t really understand it. I don’t think I will until I see it done, either. “Heir didn’t really just show up with a couple of gifts and ask to marry you, right?”

She groaned. “Oh, this again.” She scanned the nearby trees for anything she could pick, found one glossy green apple in the bunch, then moved to its tree. She shot a hoof out at the center, and I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it, but the apple just fell right into her hoof. “Why do ya wanna know?”

I didn’t want to make any confessions or anything here because, honestly, I’m not even sure how I feel anymore, but what I do know is that time wouldn’t wait forever.

“I mean, ya know, I never thought Heir was that kind of pony. He’s like Rome and all the other stallions out here. Hammer in search of a nail, but not without some discretion, ya know? I’d expect better than that from him.”

She frowned at me, then scowled at the apple. She tossed it at me, then went back to scanning for more. I put the apple in our collection cart and followed along, not sure if I should bring it up again. We moved in silence until, when she found a ripe yellow apple—a golden delicious I think—she started back up.

“Hammer in search of a nail, huh? Whether it hits a nail or a foal, it strikes at everythin’—that’s a good description fer Heir, Ah suppose.” She tossed the apple to me. “Ya know what strain this one is?”

Course she quizzes me. I checked it all over, making sure there was no red anywhere because ‘red and yellow’ makes up like twenty different kinds and they all have different patterns and tastes, but because this one didn’t, I was sure. “Golden delicious.”

She smirked, then turned away. “Imagine that, the boy can learn.” She continued at a slower pace now, scanning lazily. I think she knew there wasn’t anything else for us to pick, but she’d already started her story. “No, it wasn’t that simple.”

Annie stopped at the base of one of the ‘super’ trees. These trees were all over the orchard, the magical ones that grew as big as oaks and carried more than one variety of apple on their branches. She sat down and leaned against the big trunk and motioned for me to sit next to her.

“At first, he approached me with a deal. Two farms, two families; we merge, no more competition in the village, we sell as a unit at whatever we think is fair and the profits go up as a whole. More crops, more food, more sustainability fer the town. In theory, it ain’t a bad deal.”

I nodded. “Now that sounds like Heir.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “To a T. If ya don’t know, that’s how his parents ended up together.”

I considered that. I met the Pears once, and their deal is a little different than the Apples. All together, the family is more solemn. Not the kind of ponies you’d expect to see relaxing or with hobbies other than their orchard. Heir and his father are carbon copies of each other, Anjou and her mother are the same way, and only Asia seemed like an artsy type.

In contrast, the Apples are pretty lively. The twins are always doing something, they all can play the guitar better than I ever could with my ukulele, and they’re all sarcastic and jokes with each other. Maybe I just haven’t seen the Pears at home and comfortable, but the Apples are always like that no matter where they go.

“Is that a big deal? I mean, compared to how things go in Manehattan, it sounds like the mare gets a pretty good deal out of it.” A house, a source of income, a job where she doesn’t have to deal with the worst stallions the world has to offer on a regular basis. If Mom had gotten a deal like that…

Annie eyed me like I was crazy. “Maybe Pa is right. Ah’m not sure Ah want ta know much about yer world.” She let her eyes drift up and she sank back into the tree. “All things considered, Ah suppose it ain’t too bad, if yer lucky. Ya could hit a stallion ya get along with, maybe even one ya love like that. But that ain’t how my parents met, and ta be honest, if Ah can have it, I’d rather pick somepony fer myself.”

“Pick for yourself, huh?” Courting usually goes one way back home. And, a lot of the time, it was a business transaction. She gets paid, you get laid, everypony leaves satisfied and unaffiliated. “I guess, I really don’t know what you mean. What’s the point if it isn’t for business?”

The crazy-eyeing intensified. “Spruce, what kinda house did ya grow up in?”

I know Rome told me not to talk about this, but she asked, so it’s really not my fault, is it? “House? Mom had an apartment in the city, but we never had a house. After she disappeared, I just kinda wandered until I met the boss.”

Annie frowned. “Sometimes Ah feel like ya speak a different language. What about yer Pa?”

“Didn’t have one.”

“What are ya talkin’ about? Everypony has a Pa. Ya kinda need both parts ta make a foal.”

I don’t know why this subject always got under my skin. “What about it? Sure, there had to be a stallion at some point, but who knows who he was or where he went. There were lots of stallions. It could’ve been any or none of them.”

Gently, she put a hoof on my shoulder. “Spruce, Sugarcube, ya… ya really don’t know, do ya?”

I stood and stepped away. “So what? I’m not some kid, Annie. I don’t need you to be my mom.”

“Oh, Sugarcube…”

What is this? That tone, that face. “Stop that! What is it? Why are you doing—” I motioned my hoof around her “—whatever this is?”

She kept looking at me with those sad eyes. Being under that golden glare; that’s what I hated about this place. I can’t escape it, from him and now from her.

Annie stood up and I stepped back. She held that torturous gaze for so long. “Ah’m sorry, Spruce.”

Goddess, this isn’t any better. “Don’t be! You didn’t do anything, just don’t do… this, alright? I can’t… I don’t…” My scalp itched. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”

The gears turned. Something finally fell into place for her and she changed her look. It wasn’t sad, it wasn’t pitiful. It was interested now. She took a step closer. “And what did ya have in mind?”

Oh geez, what does that mean? Did she catch me? What do I say now? Everything was so simple back in Manehattan, I don’t even know what this is. “All I really want is…” To know if I have a chance. “Why’d you turn him down?”

There’s nothing I could offer to compare to Heir. I don’t have anything, nothing at all. No place to return to, not even a name to give away. Nothing here is the same as it was. To be with her, it couldn’t be casual. It couldn’t be a one time thing. Even if it was like Manehattan, I could never afford constant visits or anything like that. If she had a price, it’d be astronomical. Is there anything I could earn that would make it worth it to her? What could I give that she would take?

And most of all, could somepony else do it before me?

Annie stared at me, through me, with clear eyes and parted lips. I’ve always wondered how they would taste. How she would feel. But this is a different world. The rules aren’t the same here, the ponies might as well be different creatures. The rules are under the surface; it all looks so simple until you find the maze beneath. I want in, but where do I start?

“Well, ta be completely honest, it was fer selfish reasons.” She turned away and stared back up at that huge apple tree, all those red and green and yellow fruits handing in the noonday sun shining like the electric lights back in the city.

“Like what?” I took a step closer.

She raised a hoof to her lips. “If Ah’m thinkin’ objectively here, Ah’ve made an awful decision, not takin’ Heir up on his offer.”

My teeth found my inner cheek.

“This is a rural town. Unless Ah move out ta the city and go lookin’, chances are nopony else will ever come along. Can’t be the head of the family if Ah don’t have a family myself. Ain’t got forever ta make foals whenever and if Ah run out of time before Empire or Jazz or Tango does, this place will slip right out of my hooves.

“One of my cousins, named after that same yellow apple—it happened ta her. Nopony ever came along, she hit her thirties, and suddenly, her little brother had a family. Now, she lives on a secluded part of their orchard takin’ records and keepin’ track of the family history, but chances are, that’s where her story ends. No stallion, no foals, her record is written and that’s what her legacy will be, ink which fades with time.”

The new Manehattan building sprang to mind. That was going to be the first of many. A monument, a reminder to the whole city, the world even. This was our city, and this would be here long after we weren't. It wouldn’t have been some nameless stallion from the dark alleys of Manehattan, but the Black Knights that were remembered. Who we were, who I was—our legacy.

“Ink… on a page?” An entire life that only amounts to ink? If things keep going wrong, if they ever really catch the boss, would that be me? A footnote in the newspaper, even less than that. Some street trash kid who worked for a guy that the world turned against with a turn of its head. No title, no name, nothing.

“It’s a soberin’ thought. Ah love Goldie and all, she’s one of my best friends, but… Ah don’t want ta end up like her. Course, on the flip side, Ah don’t want ta end up like Heir’s mother either.”

That took me out of it. “What?”

She sighed and moved right in front of me. “Think about it, Spruce. Ya’ve been around us long enough ta see what my family is like. What Heir’s family is like. Ya’ve got ta know there’s a difference in the way we act.”

“I guess I’d never accuse the Pears of having fun like you guys do.”

Annie jabbed a hoof into my chest. “And that is exactly what Ah’m talkin’ about. A business transaction. A cold, hard deal. Papers signed, the state decreein’ these ponies hold this land under this name. A pattern started like that begets another. This loveless marriage creates another down the line. A sense of duty keeps it goin’ until somepony says no and tries ta find another way, and if they don’t, their story ends with them. Safer, easier, smarter: acquiesce and fulfill a roll. So long as you’re the substance of what ya are, at least ya have that.”

She shook her braids and let her flanks sink to the soft grass. “Heir’s mother served her purpose, she produced an heir, and now she’s a specter within the family. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a saint fer servin’ like that all this time and it’s admirable, but that’s not the life Ah want. It ain’t the one my parents got, it ain’t the one they taught me ta seek. And if I’d said yes ta Heir… Ah can’t help but think it’s the life Ah’d get.”

What could I even say? Is that how ponies live out here? In little frontier towns like this, they get one shot maybe, and if that doesn’t pan out, they just find a hole to fall in and wait for death? What’s the point? What do you live for? How do you keep on like that?

Annie curled up and brought her knees to her chest. “She scares me, ya know? Her presence is like a fixture in that family. She’s always in the house, she’s always doin’ somethin’ fer the family or their orchard, but she never smiles. Anjou and Asia are her only consolations, and she’s raisin’ them ta end up in lives just like her. Anjou will do it; she’s already got a date set and a pony ta wait fer. In just a year, she’ll have become her mother. Asia seems like the type ta break off and go on her own, but so, so much could go wrong if she goes out inta the world like that.

“There’s safety here. There’s normalcy here. At least a few stallions in the village hungry for a place ta call their own and mare ta come home ta. Long as she hooks one just like her sister, she could keep what she has and maybe even gain more. She could be lucky. But luck is so fleeting.

“Like the Zap Apples every year, ya never know what it’ll bring with it. They show up one day, share what they have ta offer, be it bounty or famine, then leave the next. They’re unreliable, but because it’s all we have ta rely on, we must. Why they come, why they go, we don’t understand it. We might never understand it. We simply hope that they do and pray that they’re enough.”

A memory filled my head. She was sitting by the window, looking down on the street one day in the middle of summer. The Uke strummed softly, a little melody she would play from time to time. She never smiled except when she would play that tune. She saw me approach, she offered to have me sit by, and she put the instrument in my hooves. One, two~ three, one, two~ three.

Such a wistful melody, such a sad smile. I never saw her again.

I put a hoof on Annie’s shoulder. If Annie disappeared like that…

“Ya know, it doesn’t have ta be like that.”

She patted my hoof and relaxed, a bit more color coming back to her smile. “Thanks, Sugarcube, but Ah know.”

“Really?” That’s not exactly the impression I got from all this.

She nodded vigorously, then pointed to the sky. “Once upon a time, Ma was bound fer a life like that. She expected it; that’s how she was raised out on her family’s rock farm. She saw my uncle married like that, she saw my aunt given away like that. She even had somepony lined up herself, bound ta continue the tradition.”

I was taken aback. “What, for real? How did she end up here?”

She raised a brow at me, searching through me with that golden glare. Those beautiful eyes.

“There was once a boy who decided that this tradition we had, of lives like that, wasn’t what he wanted out of life. He was big and strong and he didn’t need anypony ta keep him safe from the world; the world had ta be kept safe from him. Destructive and violent, no outlet for his frustrations in life. Ta try and knock some sense inta him, his parents signed him up fer the guard and shipped him off ta Canterlot ta train and become somepony respectable. Mission after mission, he went all over Equestria, fightin’ in the frontiers, dealin’ with civil unrest in the cities, attendin’ nobles in the castle.

“The years took their toll on him. The boy saw much in his travels. And then, on one of his frontier tours, he finally grew up. The colt became a stallion, and that stallion saw what he wanted out of life. Like discoverin’ his special talent years ago, all at once it crystallized in his mind and set the picture straight. After puttin’ down a group of rouge timberwolves all on his own, he’d saved a mare who’d always been waitin’ fer him ta show up. Once they’d crossed paths, they never parted.”

She nodded her head toward the western side of the orchard. “Now they’re over there, doin’ what they love, together, in love.” She shrugged her shoulders, let herself fall back, and rolled to standing. “A pair like that, a relationship like theirs; they were the Zap Apple couple. Some ponies just have all the luck.”

She brushed her tail across me and swayed away, the movement of her wide hips just as mesmerizing as her golden eyes. “Ah think we’ve had a long enough break. Come, Spruce, there’s still work ta be done.”

Without a word, I rose to my hooves and followed along. A Zap Apple couple, a miracle.

Lucky to be alive, huh?

Oh my love

It came as a clap of thunder. The whole house shook, my dreams were shattered by the force of the sound. I was out of bed and on my hooves, ready for anything when Papa Rome burst in the door.

“Spruce!” Noticing me up already, he nodded in approval. “Zap Apples are here. Go out ta the field, grab all the crossbows, and make sure all the quivers are full.”

I wanted to ask questions, but the old man was off and away before I could register my orders. Zap Apples. Crossbows. Okay, I still don’t know what they’re for, but I guess we’re doing this.

While I’d been prepped on what to expect for the most part, nothing could prepare me for the sight that greeted me when I went out into the night. Over on the east side of the orchard where the fields halted by fence and further beyond was the great darkness of the Everfree. Normally, there’s just an empty lot there.

This morning, there was an entire grove of glowing trees. Lightning streaked across their trunks and branches, bright blue-green flashes of brilliance in the midnight air, like the Goddess herself had dropped them all by hoof into the world. Their leaves shimmered in the darkness, flashing like bulbs, their color was charged with a glow like everything about them was otherworldly. The deep mahogany of their bark, the stunning near-black green of the thick leaves. I’d seen all kinds of trees here in the orchard, around Ponyville, and even on excursions to Canterlot alongside the Everfree. These were like nothing else.

I was stopped in my tracks. Yesterday, Annie and I were talking under a tree just a little ways away from this empty lot. An entire wood in an instant.

“Spruce, buddy!” Empire had come galloping, slapped my shoulder to wake me up.

“Uh, yeah?”

“We gotta move!” He ushered me along to the shed by the high wire-lined fence around the new patch of orchard. “Pa told ya what ta do, right? We ain’t gonna get ‘em all if we don’t get on with it.”

Trying to blink the shock away, I followed along. Inside the shed, there was a rack of spears, several crossbows from various ages, all recently restrung, cleaned, and polished. Bolts filled boxes stacked upon each other, lined neatly in pyramids, straps facing out for anypony to grab and run away with.

I opened the first quiver, checked that it was full, seeing the sharpened, slightly glowing projectiles in order, then threw the strap over my neck. “How many of these do we need?”

Empire had loaded himself up with bows, taking five of them off the rack. He paused for a moment to consider. “One fer Jazz and Tango, two everypony else. Pa’s gonna get the spears, but those are just fer us.”

Crossbows and spears? “Empire, are we going to war or something?”

He scratched at his mane. “Oh, right. It’s hard ta explain when ya haven’t seen ‘em, but now that they’re here, Ah guess ya ought ta know. Zap Apples are a magic fruit that show up fer one week every year sometime in the fall. The trees appear in a flash of lightnin’ with a clap of thunder so loud, ya can hear it all the way in town. In a bit, the magic they summoned is gonna merge with the magic in the land and start producin’ fruit. The number always changes, but usually, ya can count on about three hundred trees full of fruit on this patch of land and a little deeper inta the Everfree.”

He hefted the crossbow. “While we try ta get what’s safe ta get first, we’ve got ta go in deeper later on ta gather the rest. Sometimes, things wander out ta eat the apples. Other times, things show up when we’re in their territory. Timber wolves, bugbears, cragadillies. Ya never know what you’ll run inta. Somewhere in the records, there’s talk of a chimera and a manticore showin’ up durin’ the Zap Apple harvest. If we ain’t prepared, ponies die in this season, but since Ah know ya’ve seen the books, ya know what these things are worth ta the orchard. So, move carefully, stick with yer partner, and if ya see somethin’, say somethin’.”

He tossed the weapon to me, then threw a few ammo boxes on his neck too. “Let’s move.”

I followed along quietly. I’d never seen them, but I’ve heard the timber wolves. On nights of the full moon, they howl. A deep, moaning sound that carries across the air like a bird on the wind and chills the spine like snow on your back. I’ve read in the records what timber wolves will do to a pony. Magical cursed wood monsters. They don’t eat; they rip and tear and scatter. The forest feeds, the trees produce more wolves.

And Annie is about to walk out here to kick trees and pick fruit non-stop while those things are just out of sight.

We all gathered by the fence gate. Everypony was armed to the teeth. Empire and I were carrying spears, and Papa Rome was totally decked out in royal guard armor. In spite of all that, I seemed to be the only one on edge here. Even Rose was all smiles and bright and chipper.

The stallion in charge began to march. “The time has come once again, y’all.” He looked over his shoulder, through the fence at the glowing trees. Little flashes of cyan energy floated around them in rapid arcs to disappear wherever they pleased. All around in the leaves, uniform orbs grew out of nothing, glowing in one color, then shifting through the rainbow in succession.

“Here in a moment, every one of these trees is gonna have a couple hundred pounds of Zap Apples just like any other apple tree in this orchard. These are special, but they ain’t no different than what ya already know.” The big red guard nodded at me. “Spruce and Ah are gonna go scout ahead. Rose, Tango and Jazz, y’all are on buckin’ duty. Annie, Empire, y’all are on watch. See somethin’—”

“Say somethin’,” they all called back.

The Captain nodded. “Good. Y’all call, and we’ll come runnin’. Things look too dangerous, ya get out of the field and close the fence. Everypony understood?”

The family straightened and saluted. “Yessir!”

A little lost, I followed suit. “Yessir!”

Turning to face the trees, Rome put a hoof on a huge reinforced beam of wood that made the big gate latch. Razor wire lined the fence and curled out toward the forest, keeping whatever was on that side out. Magical wooden carnivores, six-legged winged bears, rock-skinned lizards, cat monsters with bat wings and stingers, and whatever the hell a chimera was.

And they do this every year.

The glowing orbs changed colors ever more rapidly until they got brighter and brighter. The whole forest flashed, thunder rocked the world, and every single tree was filled with fruit striped in rainbow. They sparkled, they glowed with magic, and little streaks of bright lightning scattered and trailed away from them.

Rome heaved the beam up and set it to the side with a loud thud. “Move!”

The sun had risen. Noon found its way over the orchard, but not quite into the Everfree. Deep inside, the canopy grew thick and harsh. Light came down in streaks, illuminating the green and the dank where the brilliance of the Zap Apple trees couldn’t be found. We’d been counting all morning, we’d covered at least five acres of forest, and still more trees were found deeper in. One tree would bring in a quarter of a year’s worth of bits for a single pony.

All we had to do was risk our necks.

“Spruce, now!”

Terrified to my core, I worked up all the hysteric fear I could muster and put it into my foreleg. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I hurled the spear with every ounce of might at the horrible wooden beast. It pierced the monster’s head, and just like that, the branches scattered.

I sank to my flanks. Every year. They do this every single year. How many of these things has Rome killed? How many has Annie killed? And they’ve been doing this their whole lives. Good Goddess.

Breathing hard himself, Rome came over to pat me on the back. “Good job, Spruce. Yer technique needs work, and ya’ve got ta stop screamin’, but we’ll make a soldier out of ya yet.”

Deeper in, a low moaning howl cried in sorrow.

I shot to my hooves, grabbed the spear from the scattered pile of branches and scanned everywhere, listening for anything and everything.

Rome was totally unbothered. “Another soul returned to the forest. But don’t worry, he’ll be back next year.” He reached down into the pile, found a branch with a slight green glow to it, then stuck it in his saddle bag. Unlike mine, his crossbow was totally untouched, and everything we’d come across had seen the end of his spear.

I, on the other hoof, had panicked more than once and fired wildly at anything that moved in the dark. This timber wolf here was unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire.

“I don’t know how you do this, man.”

The big stallion in his pristine armor sent me a golden glance. “What, after yer time in the city? Come on now, ya’ve got ta know that the scariest thing on this earth is another pony, don’t’cha? Beasts are just that, beasts. Every wolf has a way it’ll come at ya, and with enough practice, ya can know them down ta their core. A pony on the other hoof…” He shook his head. “Even a lifetime might not show ya who they are.”

My heart had finally steadied enough for me to relax a little. “Whatever you say, but that thing wasn’t about to have reservations on tearing me limb from limb.”

Rome scanned around us, then started back toward the orchard. “Ah think we’ve found all our trees fer this harvest. Let’s head back and help out.”

I shivered. “Anything to get away from this place.”

The older stallion looked at me in a way I have never seen before. He’s a rock when he wants to be—he’ll always find my weaknesses and poke at them, make jokes at my expense and all that—but this was new.

“Something wrong, Rome?”

He shrugged, totally at ease even under hungry eyes. “Ta be honest, Ah had higher expectations.”

Cautiously, I scanned the dark forest again. Further ahead, glowing patches marked the Zap Apple Trees, but out here, there was wood, bush and darkness. Never in my life had I been so horrified by my own colors. Anything in here could see me for miles. “Why’s that?”

Rome snorted. “Thought ya’d be braver than this.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

Rome stopped. I stopped. “Ah’ve got friends, Spruce.” He studied me, then rubbed at his leafy beard. “But, that ain’t what they called ya back in the city, is it, Undertaker?”

My muscles tightened like another wolf was staring me down. “What about it?”

Throwing a hoof up, he continued walking. “Nothin’ in particular. Ya ought ta know me by now, Ah’m not about ta go breakin’ promises. As a matter of fact, Ah’d keep ya on fer next year if ya’d stay. Ah can see why that crooked Chevalier kept ya.”

Ho-lee shit. Who even is this guy? Where is he getting this information? Annie told me he was royal guard, but how far up did he go? And… he wants me to stay?

I stopped. He stopped. “Alright, ya lost me. What are you saying? You know who I am, you know what I did, and apparently, you even know the boss. What’s your deal?”

Tilting his head, Rome adopted a raised brow that I’ve seen in him and the kids. They all do it, and it always makes me feel like they can see right through me. “Me? I’m just a retiree runnin’ an apple orchard my family has always had. You’re awful young, and that leaves ya short-sighted. Today, tomorrow, the next day. That’s about as far as ya think ahead. But us older stallions? We’ve got futures ta prepare.”

He waved a hoof to the forest surrounding us. “Ah’ll give ya credit, ya fight instead of runnin’, but that’s just because ya’ve seen blood before. You’re a killer, not a soldier; a beast. Ya come out in the dark, ya hide in the shadows, and when the opportunity shows itself, ya strike.

“A soldier stands out in the open. A soldier puts himself in front of what he defends. A soldier knows his fear, understands it, and masters it.” He looked me up and down. “Tango could probably take ya on her own.”

This old bastard. Every single time, he can’t just say what he means, and he just insults me instead. “Goddess graces, what the hell do you want from me? I didn’t end up in this place by choice, I didn’t come here just to become some orchard lackey—you’ve got me in cuffs!” I stabbed the spear into the ground. “What, am I so pathetic that you brought me out here to train me? To groom me into another one of your little soldiers or something? Is that what this is? Or is this your way of telling me that if I step out of line, you’ve got a place where nopony will find me?”

Amused, he set his own spear into the ground and sat down. The crack of a branch set me wide-eyed and ears alert.

“What was that!?”

Rome chuckled. “Our little stalker is just gettin’ a bit careless, that’s all.” As if it were the most mundane thing in the world, he waved it away. “Fer a moment here, let’s say Ah happen ta understand yer point of view. Ah spent some time in Manehattan, Ah know what the nastier side of the city is like, and Ah’ve seen dozens of kids just like yerself. Ah understand ya, Undertaker.”

Staring straight through me with that golden glare, I was paralyzed. The fear of the creature at my back, the fear of this stallion in front of me. Somehow, he was scarier.

“Now, what Ah want ta know is if you ever tried ta understand me. Use that head on yer shoulders fer a moment and think. Why would Ah keep ya? Why would Ah let ya be on my land, around my kids? What value are ya ta me, if Ah know exactly what ya are?”

Well, he was right about one thing: I’d never considered why. Has he known all this time? Everything I’ve done? He knows my real name; how could he not? And yet, he hasn’t kicked me out or anything. He could’ve gotten rid of me at any moment, and yet, here I am.

I tried to meet his golden gaze. “I don’t understand.”

Rome stood up. Towering over me, he looked down on me with another new expression. He patted my head. “Ah, know, Spruce. It’s what Ah find so disappointin’ about ya.”

He picked up his spear, reeled it back, all the massive muscles under his armor bulging like thunderclouds, and launched the weapon. It flew into a bush faster than a crossbow bolt, and right behind me, branches clattered to the forest floor.

He stepped up to the bush, reached down to pick up another glowing branch to add to his collection, then retrieved his spear. “Ah don’t have any plans ta get rid of ya or sell ya out. Ah’d like ta keep ya if ya want ta stay. But if ya don’t, Ah won’t even hold ya ta our original term. Soon as winter comes, you’re free ta go.”

The soldier approached and offered me a hoof. “December will be here soon, but consider it. Us, this place, yer future. If ya take nothin’ else away from this—make a decision ya can be proud of.”

Once again, I was stunned silent. What does this mean? What is he saying here? Between learning all the jobs, reading all the materials and the things I wanna do with Annie, I haven’t had time to consider anything else.

What is a decision I can be proud of? Am I proud of anything I’ve done? The boss used to talk a lot about earth pony pride, but this isn’t the same.

What do I want?

On the last day of the Zap Apple harvest, I was on bucking duty. Apple season proper wasn’t quite here yet, but in the next few days, it would be. The total count came to three hundred and fifty-six trees, and on this final day, we were ahead of schedule. Papa Rome wanted to see me buck an acre’s worth of trees on my own.

They’d gone out and harvested all the more dangerous ones, and Empire even took down a bugbear on his own defending his little siblings. Even after the call had gone out, the thing was down and under his hooves before the Captain could get there. That kid was gonna be somepony, growing up and making a name for himself, making a name for his family. Empire is somepony worth being proud of.

After a week of ‘considering it,’ I didn’t think I was. Bravery, courage, the heart and strength of a stallion. These ponies knew what that was, how to cultivate it, and exemplified it. I was just some thug from the streets of Manehattan.

All the confidence I’d built up over the years, the persona of Undertaker, the gallantry of being one of Ebon Chevalier’s Black Knights. It was all fake.

I had to lie, pay ponies to look away, hide everything I did from everypony. Nopony would be impressed if I said anything about my kill count. Nopony would pat me on the back and tell me I did a good job for taking Clean Slate off the ballot. The bits, the booze, the mares, the drugs—did any of that ever make me really happy?

Clean Slate had a family; now, his kids don’t have a father. If their mom can’t pick up what he left behind, what becomes of them? If they’ve got a boy, where does he go to find what his dad had for him? Well, you know where he goes. Our guys would be out there looking for a kid like him. They’d see what he was, his raw, untapped potential, and they’d bring him to the boss. Then, he’d be Undertaker.

At least Annie’s cousin has a legacy of ink. What did I have, what did the gang have, but an empire of dirt? Ponies will never know the why or how of the Manehattan building. They can’t; they’d be appalled. Regular ponies formed governments and laws to stop us from doing what we did. This whole country, Equestria, was built to keep a system like ours from forming. A place where strength didn’t rule and ponies could live free in harmony.

So, what did Rome see in me? I get what the boss saw in me now, a tool he could apply easily to any problem he had without so much as lifting a hoof. A hammer in search of a foal.

Why spend all this time and effort on me? Why let me go when you’ve all put more into me than I was ever worth? What do you see that I don’t?

The morning was colder than it had been, somewhere in the fifties today. The sun was still an hour away from rising, and I was preparing for my day. A whole acre, all to myself. They think I can do it, so I have to.

That look on Annie’s face was the same one Rome used on me in the Everfree—disappointment, pity. If nopony else, I can’t have her looking at me like that. I didn’t miss the signals; I know why she told me what she did. I fell out of the sky like magic. I’m the stallion who comes out of nowhere to sweep her off her hooves and give her that life she wanted.

Except, I’m not him yet.

If I can land the right kick, if I can buck these apples like they do, then I can become him. I can be the stallion she’s looking for. I just have to do something I’m proud of. Something I could look her in the eyes and say I did and have her smile at me, just like Rose smiles at Rome.

Nopony else was up yet. I’ve been told not to go out into Zap Apple territory alone. I’ve seen the horrors out there, but this is the first step, and I’ve got to do it myself.

I psyched myself up, practiced some of my old boxing kicks, and once I was good and warm, I grabbed one of the apple barrels, and trotted on to the eastern side of the orchard where the Everfree loomed.

Over the course of the week, the glow of the Zap Apple trees faded. Today, the light was weak. Little more than a dim shade casting like a lamp. The magic that created these things in a flash was fading just as fast. Once it was gone, they’d go too.

I hadn’t practiced enough with the crossbows to trust them, so I decided to go with the spear today. My protection at my side, a barrel ready to collect, the next hurdle was the gate. This one beam was practically a whole tree. On top of that, it was reinforced with iron bands. To call it heavy would be an understatement.

More than the bucking, this is what I’d warmed myself up for. I got under the right side for the most leverage I could muster, put hooves on the ground and under the beam, and with everything I had, I pushed. Slowly, ever so slowly, the beam rose. The weight shifted, the giant block of wood scooted, and with one last grunt, the thing slid off. It was still partially on the right side latch, but I only needed it out of the way to open the gate.

Mission accomplished, I snuck inside and found my way to the northern part where the unpicked acre was. Once they were off the branch, the Zap Apples no longer glowed, but retained their crazy colors. They come with rainbow-striped skin, and though the flesh is like any other apple, the juice shines with that iridescent shimmer. And here were a hundred or so pounds of glowing, fresh Zap Apples, waiting for me to buck them.

Approaching my first tree, I laid the spear down nearby and pointed at the greater forest, just in case something decided to visit me. Then, I set the barrel under the branches and inspected the tree. I’ve seen Annie just clap a tree and make an apple or two fall, but to get everything, you really gotta ram into it.

The tingle of magic hummed in the air and under my hooves. Fading as it was, it sang a soft note brightly wherever you walked. I could feel it in my veins. Trace it through the ground, up the roots, into the trunk and down the branches. I followed my hoof along the glowing bark to the point where the magic pooled the most. A little notch in the thunderbolt-like tree was just a shade brighter than the rest.

I planted my front hooves and got ready. Annie’s form came to mind, the way her legs were bent, how she rocked into the kick, how her whole body and all the magic in it moved with her will toward the apples. One, two~ three.

Thunk!

The leaves shivered, the bark shook, and rainbows rained down on me.

“Yes! I did it!” I went to punch the air in joy, but a Zap Apple landed in my hoof instead. This close, the fragrance of the thing finally hit me. Electric, vibrant, every color and every flavor, sweet and sour and savory and fresh. My mouth watered. I shouldn’t eat this. This is worth a lot of money to the orchard and keeps them going through the winter. If I eat it, they can’t sell it, which means they can’t buy food when they need it.

“Go on. Ya’ve earned it.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Annie appeared from behind one of the harvested trees just out of the corner of my eyes. I swallowed. “I, uh…”

She rolled her golden eyes and approached with her easy swagger. “Oh, don’t make excuses, Sugarcube. Ya did it, just like Ah taught ya. Not a single fruit left on the branch.” She looked around, noting a few scattered apples on the ground. “Didn’t make it all in the barrel, but that comes with time. We’ve got a lot more orchard fer ya ta practice on later. But fer now, why don’t ya taste the fruit of yer labor? These only come around once a year.”

Caught rainbow-hooved, I figured I should just accept the gift. It smelled incredible. Between this and the jam from the spring, it was easy to see why these things sold for so much. A dangerous harvest, a random appearance, and the wildest fruit known to ponies.

I bit in, and suddenly, I was taken somewhere else.

Mom and I on a sunny day in Manehattan park. The boss giving me my pendant. Annie under the tree.

When I came back to reality, the flavor hit me like a bowling ball. The intensity of the jam taken to one hundred, electric and sparkling, bubbly like soda, sweet and sour, soft and inviting, pleasant and light. The taste of a fond memory.

Before too long, I attacked the thing, eating it core and all. Strangely, there were no seeds in this, nor a change in texture anywhere. It was all just that amazing, incredible Zap Apple through and through.

“This is crazy. I thought it would be just like any other apple, but this is weird all the way. No core, no seeds, no stem. What are these things?”

Annie stepped in close with a smile I’d never seen on her lips. “Zap Apples are special. They’re totally magic. They don’t grow anywhere else, ya can’t grow ‘em yerself, and they’re quite literally a fruit unlike any other. Not just anypony can harvest ‘em either. They’re awful picky about who they let in, and our family has been here fer a long time. They were the first thing we ever sold, the reason this orchard exists in the first place. Magic chooses ponies it thinks are worth it. And so do we.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine.

I thought my heart was going to explode. She was everything I imagined and more. Not even Zap Apple could compare to this flavor. A flash of lightning, a clap of thunder. It was over in an instant.

Annie licked her lips, totally pleased with herself, smiling at me. “Why don’t’cha ya get on the rest of these, Sugarcube? Ah put down a lot when Ah bet on ya back in the winter. Show me you’re worth it.”

Overwhelmed, joy filling every inch it could and spilling out, I collected my shivering body and straightened up.

“Yes, Ma’am!”