Apple Hospitality

The next day on the farm is... weird. You can tell Applejack is trying very hard to be normal, but, well, trying to be normal kind of defeats the purpose. You're watching her use your new scythe on the barley, taking notes on possible problems or improvements.

She finishes a row and releases the handle from her mouth, letting the blade hang from her shoulders, "Boy howdy, Anon! I'm mighty pleased you're improving our farm tools. I tell ya, this is takin' less'n half as long as usual."

As she steps up to you, you gesture at the freshly cut barley on the ground, "How do you collect it afterward?"

"With another big ol' rolling machine I bet y'all will make twice as good." She chuckles at your startled expression, "Not right now, 'course! I know, takes time. Took you a couple weeks to fix that there waterin' machine."

You look up at the sky and rub your chin thoughtfully for a moment.

"Y'all got another idea?" Applejack asks.

"More like I remember a video I saw back on earth..." You lower your gaze back to her and ask, "Think you could pull a cart and swing that scythe at the same time?"

"Well sure, why?"

"I remember seeing a scythe that had a little tray or bag or something that caught what it was cutting. If I can figure out something like that, you could cut some barley, then just use the scythe to toss it over your shoulder and into the cart."

She beams at you and gives you a friendly buck on the hip, saying, "Ah just knew ya had a good idea! You always get this look like..."

She stands up on her hind legs and raises her hoof to her muzzle, obviously trying to imitate your thinking face.

...And apparently forgetting the scythe still hooked around her shoulders.

The blade swings around awkwardly, aimed directly at your leg, and you lurch backward with a yelp. Applejack, with a look of horror, tries to bat the scythe away with a foreleg. She manages to redirect it and the blade misses you by inches, but the scythe's momentum throws her off balance and she crashes heavily to her back.

She screams in pain and your imagination immediately fills with ugly images of the blade sinking deep into her body.

"Applejack!"

She neighs and thrashes wildly, clearly overwhelmed with panic and pain. You rush forward, dodging her flailing hooves as best you can... and are relieved to see the blade flat on the ground. However, the handle and rope had somehow hooked around her fetlock and twisted it terribly, slamming it into the ground when she fell.

You hurry to lift the heavy scythe off her leg and slip the whole contraption over her head, tossing it away. As soon as the weight is lifted off her leg, she pulls both forelegs to her chest and lays on her back, whimpering, eyes shut tight.

You kneel beside her and gently touch the side of her head, speaking softly, "Hey, Applejack, shhh, it's alright, you're okay."

She looks up at you for a moment, then closes her eyes again and presses her cheek into your palm. You stay like that for a few minutes, gently stroking her muzzle as her breathing returns to normal.

Finally, she opens her eyes again and you slowly move your hand to her injured hoof. She lets out a nervous little whinny but doesn't resist as you carefully take her hoof in one hand, pressing gently on her fetlock with the other. She immediately gasps in pain and you click you tongue.

"Oh man... I'm no doctor but I'd say that's one hell of a sprain, might even be broken."

Still lying on her back, her head falls back to the ground and she groans loudly, "Aw... what the hay are we gonna do now? I got way too many chores for this!"

You point at the sharp blade of the scythe and say, "Hey, it coulda been a whole lot worse."

She lifts her head to follow your gesture, then nickers agreement.

"I'll go get Big Mac," you say with a sigh, but she stops you with her good hoof as you start to stand.

"No... no, if he didn't hear my scream an' come gallopin' already, he's too far away to bother. I just need to get to the farmhouse. Ain't far anyhow."

You scoot back a bit as she rolls toward you onto her side and tries to stand on her good forehoof. As she stands, you continue holding her injured foreleg, supporting her at the knee. She snorts and wiggles her injured leg free and leans on it carefully, only to immediately cry out and pull her foreleg up close to her chest. You grab it again.

"Easy now. C'mon, let's get to the farmhouse."

She groans, "Ponyfeathers... ya ain't gotta baby me like this!"

"Hush, I ain't babying you. You're injured and probably couldn't even walk by yourself. Now come on, move."

She reluctantly takes a step forward as you pull on her knee, muttering under her breath, "Be hay to pay if you tell anypony..."

You lightly flick an ear with a finger and it flicks back at you, "Quit your moping and walk." You straighten as she starts to walk.

As it turns out, Applejack is just the right height for you to stand fully upright and hold her foreleg by the knee with your arm just casually hanging straight. After a few paces, you look down at Applejack, intending to ask how she's doing, and instead notice how you two look.

You're walking normally, she's walking as best she can on three legs, her foreleg is in your hand, her head is turned slightly away, and her ears are back in embarrassment.

"Uh..." An ear swivels toward you, "Walking like this looks pretty, uh..."

You trail off, but you guess she got your point from the way her ears flatten again. She mutters, "Let's just go."

Her blush was hidden before, but now it's spread all the way up her face and down the side of her muzzle.

Trying to save your friend some of her dignity, you distract her with a question, "Okay, so if I'm right and you won't be able to work while this heals... is there anything I can do to help around the farm?"

Her ears perk up as she thinks, then droop sadly, "Well... not much, honestly. Everything comin' up is hard pony work: pullin' plows, buckin' trees, movin' carts... I mean, y'all can help Apple Bloom harvest the carrots, but I was always gonna have ya do that, this don't change nothin'." She sighs heavily, "I, uh... guess you'll mostly be helpin' me recover. Granny, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom'll all be too busy pickin' up my slack to help me much."

The two of you continue in silence until you reach the farmhouse and find that, for once, Granny Smith was awake. When she sees the two of you enter, she gives Applejack a sly wink.

"Wayyyll now, ah thought y'all mighta hit it off, but if'n y'ain't gone an' caught 'im in near half the time ah thought!"

You jerk your hand open and she pulls her hoof to her chest as your ears start burning and you sputter, "Wha--but, no, it's.."

Applejack sighs, "Gosh darnit Granny, no! I told ya we ain't nothin' like that. I just went and got myself hurt, Anon was helping me get back here."

Granny Smith winks again, "y'ain't never been one fer takin' help like that from nopony else!"

Applejack groans and starts to reply but Granny cuts her off and steps closer, "Hush an' lemme see that there hoof."

She tentatively extends her hoof and Granny supports it gently without pressing on the joint, mumbling as she twists her head to look at it from all angles.

"Can ya move it? Twist yer fetlock 'round much as ya can without hurtin'."

Applejack winces in pain as her hoof barely wiggles. Granny steps back and nods.

"Alright, I'll go find Big Mac an' have 'im fetch a medical pony," she turns to you and adds, "Anon dearie, if'n ya don't mind, help Applejack up the stairs an' into bed, please?"

"I don't need no help into bed!" Applejack says with a snort.

Granny smirks, "Ah reckon you'd like Anon's help just the same!"

Your ears must be on fire by now.

Cutting off another indignant reply, Granny continues, "'Sides, ah mostly just meant up the stairs; y'ain't gettin' up them all on yer lonesome! Anon, be a dear an' help 'er up to her bedroom, if'n it pleases you."

Applejack grumbles but reluctantly lifts her hoof for you to hold again. As Granny trots out the front door, you and Applejack turn towards the stairs.

Halfway up, Applejack lets out a little frustrated whinny, "Tartarus, I hate bein' babied like this an' I ain't got a darn choice 'til I heal."

You chuckle and tug her leg to get her to take another step, "Ah, quit yer whining, you'll be fine."

She gives you an indignant neigh and bumps your hip with her shoulder, "I sure as hay could get up these stairs by myself."

"Yeah, probably, but it'd be difficult and risky. If you slipped and landed on your bad hoof you could hurt it even worse. No point taking such a risk when I'm right here to help you."

She doesn't have a response to that and you continue to her room in stony silence. Her room is mostly empty, with ropes coiled on the wall and a small reading niche where a cushion is sitting on the floor. Her bed is just to the right of the door near the window with a cute little end table between it and the wall.

Despite her early protests, she doesn't fight you as you step up to the bed and half-support, half-lift her into bed. She's surprisingly light for being more than half your height. She then pulls the blanket up to her neck and averts her eyes. You consider offering to take her hat, then decide not to even risk it.

"How do you feel? You want something to eat or drink? An extra pillow? Anything?"

"Nah, I'm... I'm fine."

You take a step back, "Alright... guess I'll see you tomorrow."

She nods and you turn to leave, but as you walk away, you hear her quietly mutter, "Thanks."

You look back and see her laying on her side, facing away, her ears folded down. Even if she can't see, you can't help but smile.

"'Course, AJ. I'm happy to help you."