1 Autumn

Applejack stepped from the barn, the ropes draped around her neck and shoulders pulling taut and falling slack again with every step she took. The sun poured its light down in a stream of radiant gold, a hue Applejack always said could only be seen at the precise height of autumn. It bathed her in warmth even as a playful breeze chilled her coat, and she had to pause for a moment just to take it in, this swathe of land she and the ponies who came before her had carved from the wild earth.

In every direction, there was beauty and bounty in equal measure. The fields had been especially productive that year, and leaves still clung to the orchards, painting them in a riot of color. Not fully turned, they displayed the rainbow hues of life, warm and vibrant—green, amber, dusty yellow, all lightly stained throughout with shades of glowing red in the deepest hearts of the boughs.

And before her, the deep sea of verdant green crowned in palest gold that was the northern cornfield.

She breathed deep, taking in the cool scent of rich earth, spiced with the fragrance of ripe apples, sun-warmed corncobs, and the damp, silky sweetness of the pumpkins swollen to bursting in the patch just beside the cornfield. Soon, the farm would be alive with the sounds of ponies plucking those cobs, cutting pumpkin stems, and breaking open all their bright skins in pursuit of seeds, purees, and all manner of treats to toast and bake.

Applejack smiled and resumed pulling her load with renewed vigor. She could hardly wait.

She followed the road down to the cornfield, where a wide passage had already been cut through the rows. It branched almost immediately, different routes wending and weaving out of sight almost as soon as a turn was chosen. The cornfield maze was one of the Acres’ traditional autumn draws, and its opening was almost a holiday in and of itself for the families of Ponyville. Foals came to compete to see who could make their way through the fastest, as well as who could rack up the most scares by jumping out of the rows at their friends. Parents, for their part, came for the chance to distract the foals for a precious few hours, but also to remember their own younger days taking hayrides and getting lost among the warm stalks.

Applejack made her way through those paths now, ignoring all the wrong turns and misleading straightaways, taking instead a crooked path towards the center. The dead remnants of cut plants crunched and snapped below her hooves, little clouds of dust rising with every step. Soon, she reached an opening in the maze, a place where five different paths intersected and split apart, each at random and odd angles to each other. She shrugged herself out of the ropes, walked around to the other side of her load, and braced her hooves underneath the limp mass of fabric and straw.

“Alrighty, up ya get,” she said, easily levering the thing upright on a pole. The scarecrow swung into the sky, limbs ragdolling a little as Applejack shoved the sharpened stake into the earth. A few firm pushes saw it securely planted, and Applejack stepped back and nodded in satisfaction.

“You best take your job seriously this year, y’hear?” she said with a wry grin. “Don’t need all them varmints out here snacking on more o’ the harvest than we can help.”

The scarecrow made no acknowledgment of her words. Its blank cloth face sagged down and off to one side, staring out into the corn as its body twisted slightly in the breeze. It wore her oldest flannel, but only for the harvest; once Granny had the chance to patch the newest round of holes, it would keep her own withers warm through the winter once more. An old hat left behind by a hired hoof last season completed the look. It hung from its forelegs on a wooden crossbeam, a recognizable—if not terribly convincing—imitation of a farmer waving furiously to drive away thieving crows.

For Applejack’s part, she didn’t really think such things did much to protect the crops. She had seen more than a few critters munching away at pilfered goods right underneath the scarecrows, and it was one more chore to take care of every year. But Granny always insisted. Placing “guardians” in the field was tradition, she said, an important thing to never forget. But when Applejack had once pressed the matter, asked why exactly it was so important if it didn’t keep away the birds, Granny had just chuckled and patted her head.

“It ain’t about reasons, Applejack. Some traditions are older than reason, you know. Older than memory. Sometimes, the tradition is the only part of the memory left.”

“Does that mean that nopony remembers, or that you don’t remember?” Applejack had asked with a snarky grin.

“I’ll be remembering a few more chores for you if’n you don’t watch that mouth of yours. Now git!”

Applejack chuckled and shook her head at the memory. If nothing else, ponies did expect to see such things decorating the farm when autumn came, just as they expected winter starflies lighting up the trees a few months later. It completed the experience, somehow, and so Applejack supposed she would be obligated to keep the tradition up, regardless of whether the namesake role of the scarecrow was true or not.

She turned, ready to make her way back down the paths she had sketched and then cut herself. But as she stepped away, something crackled in the field behind her, something out of sync with her own hoofsteps. She turned and fixed the scarecrow with a stern glare, half-expecting to see a crow or two already perched on the dummy out of spite. But there was no bird or other varmint to be seen. There were only the draped and spiky leaves of the field swaying gently and the fabric figure watching her depart with its sagging bag head.

She waited a moment longer, watching for any telltale sign of sneaking raiders, then turned once more and left the clearing, following the path directly back to the farm and the myriad chores still awaiting her.

* * *

“I just wanted you to know the offer’s always open,” Twilight said with a chuckle, holding her hooves out in mock surrender.

“And we appreciate it sugarcube, don’t you doubt that,” Applejack said, lifting her cider mug to Twilight in acknowledgment. They sat basking in the warm afternoon sun at one of the many tables the Apples had brought out for the Acres’ Harvest Festival, listening to the volunteer Bluegrass band Pinkie had assembled.

Ponies milled all around them, browsing the various stands and events that had popped up all over the farm. Some were run by ponies from town, others by distant Apple family members who had come to visit for the event. Braeburn was running the hayrides with Big Mac this year, and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were eagerly “helping” with the pumpkin toss—Scootaloo especially launching just as many if not more of the reject produce as the actual participants. Families were in and out of the corn maze constantly, and just around the corner, Apple Bloom was taking her first solo shift in demonstrating the apple press, and the clear, aromatic cider she beamingly served sparkled in the many mugs clustered around their table.

“And o’course,” Applejack continued, “you’ll always be welcome to kick some trees with us any time you want. Help’s always appreciated.”

“Always?” Twilight asked. She tilted her head and gave Applejack a knowing grin.

“Always,” Applejack emphasized with a chuckle.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t let Twilight harvest the way she did that one year,” Rainbow said. “You’d be done in no time.”

“Maybe,” Applejack said with a gentle smile. “But that was an... how’d you say, ‘exceptional circumstance?’ ” At Twilight’s nod, she continued, “And there might be time and place for that again sometime. But farming’s about more than speed, especially in the long term.”

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“It’s the truth,” Applejack said with a shrug. “It’s a give and take kinda thing.”

“I thought that was siblings?” Rarity offered.

“Well, it’s both, kinda,” Applejack laughed. “Granny always said, if you’re gonna take from the earth, you always be sure to give something back in equal measure. Us earth ponies, we do that with our time. Our time, strength, love, and attention. And a fair amount o’ sweat and tears, sure. We coax the earth, and it feeds us in good time.”

“What, are you saying magic doesn’t take effort?” Rarity asked, raising a sharp eyebrow towards Applejack, who shrugged and gave Twilight an apologetic look.

“Hey, I’m just talking traditions and whatnot. But it’s true, we’ve always seen magic as a kind of... shortcut, I guess. I mean, just look at how you harvested them trees. You busted through half the orchard without breakin’ a sweat. I guess magic don’t seem to be about what you put in, it’s almost about… gettin’ around those sort of rules. Imposing, in a way. Pulling what you want out of thin air with power that ain’t even yours to begin with.”

“Is that really how earth ponies see magic?” Rarity asked, setting down her mug with a huff. “Because I must protest that it seems a myopic view, to say the least! Why, to even suggest Twilight hasn’t shed sweat and tears over her years of study!”

“She's certainly shed tears,” Spike said with a smirk. Then, “Ow!” as Twilight bopped him playfully on the noggin.

“But don’t you worry none,” Applejack continued. “We’ve been doing real well these past few years. Got a good rhythm going. Shoot, if things keep up this way, we’ll be able to hire seasonal help every year.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Twilight said with a contented smile.

“And who knows,” Applejack said. “Might be plenty of seasons yet when we’ll need one o’ them… er… what’d you call what you did?”

“Logarithmically iterated levitation spell,” Twilight said immediately, “with some logical filtering charms overlaid, of course.”

“Of course,” Rarity said approvingly.

“Yeah, that was it,” Applejack said with a nod. “Knew logging had something to do with it.”

“Duh,” Rainbow said. “Trees and all.”

“Even so,” Granny Smith interjected. “It don’t do to rely on doing things the easy way. The earth can be funny about things like that, if’n you ain’t careful. Can get used to the wrong sort o’ thing. No, best to do things the way they’ve always been done, the way our forebears learned was best over years both long and bleak.”

Twilight couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation at that, and not a small amount of surprise at the older pony’s sudden adamance. She wasn’t about to get into a cultural debate with the older pony on a festival day, though. Tradition and pride went hoof and hoof, she supposed; far better avoid bruising egos and just enjoy everyone’s company. “Of course, Granny Smith.”

Twilight took another sip of her own cider and sighed in happiness, sinking down a little deeper against the hay bales they reclined against. Pride or no pride, no one could deny the Apples knew their craft.

“Applejack?”

The circle of friends and the Apples looked up as Cheerilee trotted up to them, giving a rueful grin. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but could you maybe help me over at the corn maze? I’m worried Pipsqueak may have gotten lost. He’s been in there nearly an hour.”

“Sure thing, Cheerilee,” Applejack said. She grabbed her hat and tugged it down atop her mane, then got to her hooves with a languid stretch.

“Pssh, you stay here Applejack, I’ll look for him,” Rainbow said. She pushed herself up, swaying alarmingly as she did so, and set her cider mug so close to the edge of the picnic table that it nearly toppled right off. She gave Cheerilee a wonky salute and added, “I can fly over and find him in… like, no time. Just watch.”

“No,” Applejack said with a laugh, stepping on Rainbow’s tail and pushing her back onto her rump. “You ain’t flying. We agreed, if you were gonna get that extra cup.”

Rainbow sulked, but pulled her mug back to herself protectively.

“Won’t be but a minute,” Applejack said, following Cheerilee over to the field.

“Yes, the earth and its progeny are funny things,” Granny Smith continued, as though she hadn’t noticed the change of subject. Her head was nodding, and her eyes were unfocused, as though seeing something far away. “Most ponies don’t feel it these days. You don’t want to go giving it a… taste for things it oughtn’t. No, neither root nor shoot. Best to… go slow with ‘em…”

Her head drooped, and suddenly she was asleep, her rocking chair rolling gently. Twilight grinned, sharing a knowing chuckle with the others. The conversation meandered to the doings of her friends, to subjects of work and future plans. When they all rose some time later to put away their mugs and rejoin the festival, Twilight wondered briefly whether Applejack had found Pipsqueak yet. But as a still-lightly-swaying Rainbow Dash led them over to the horseshoe toss, already arguing with Rarity over whether the shoes could be cleaned after each toss, the question was pushed from her mind.

* * *

“Hey Twilight? Have you seen Applejack?”

Twilight turned at the sound of Apple Bloom’s voice. She and Spike were picking over the pumpkins to carve for Nightmare Night, and while Spike favored the biggest one she could possibly levitate, she was holding out for one that wouldn’t take hours to clean up after. Her eyebrow rose in puzzlement, glancing around the farm grounds over Apple Bloom’s head. “Um, not for a little while, I don’t think. Why?”

Apple Bloom stamped a hoof in frustration. “She was supposed to take over the apple press around one o’clock, and it’s nearly two now.”

“Hmm, that is odd. Did you check the hayrides?”

“I checked everywhere! I coulda missed her, o’course, but…”

“I’m sorry Apple Bloom, I’m not sure where I saw her last. I’ll take a look around though, and if I find her I’ll let her know you’re looking.”

“Thanks, Twilight!”

Twilight sat for a moment, thinking back. When had she seen Applejack last? They’d had lunch together with the others, and then Cheerilee had asked her to help find Pipsqueak, and…

Had that been it? She supposed it was, but that had been more than two hours ago. Surely Applejack was long since finished with that. Perhaps she had gotten caught up in one of the other activities and their paths hadn’t crossed, or she hadn’t noticed if they had.

She stood up and stretched her wings, rotating them and flexing her back the way Rainbow had showed her so long ago. “Alright Spike, new deal: You can get whatever pumpkin you want, if you can carry it back to the library yourself. And no asking anypony else to carry it for you.”

To her dismay, Spike’s smile only widened. “Yes, ma’am!”

She shook her head ruefully as he set about trying to lift a pumpkin easily three times his size, his draconic strength allowing him to make some impressive headway. Oh, well. If he wanted to put in the effort, she supposed she could deal with a messy kitchen.

She took to the skies, attaining a bird’s-eye view of the farm in only a few wingbeats. She flew in a slow circle, expecting to see Applejack’s signature orange coat stand out in a matter of seconds. She cruised over the vendor stands, the games, the picnic tables, and the Bluegrass band, her frown growing as she was unable to pick out her friend. It was certainly curious. She had no trouble spotting anyone else: Pinkie, Rarity, Rainbow, Fluttershy, even the other Apples. Granny remained asleep in her chair, and Big Mac was still pulling the carts through the trails around the farm. Perhaps Applejack had gone inside the house for something?

Twilight swept into an easy dive as she spotted Cheerilee chaperoning some of the foals through the games. It was a long shot, as she and Applejack would have finished up the search ages ago, but maybe she could still point Twilight in the right direction. Cheerilee glanced up and smiled as Twilight landed next to her.

“Hey Cheerilee,” Twilight said. “Have you seen Applejack?”

“Oh, hello Twilight. Hmm, no, I don’t think I have. Not since she brought Pipsqueak out from the maze.”

“Huh.” That was as expected, sure enough. “Did you see where she went after that?”

“Well, you know, now that you mention it, we didn’t actually meet up when she found him. We both went in to look for him, and we took different directions to cover more ground. After awhile, I found myself back at the entrance, and Pipsqueak was there playing with the others. I assumed she found him and then went to rejoin you.”

“Darn,” Twilight said.

“Is everything all right?”

“Oh, of course, Apple Bloom was just looking for her. Will you tell her that if you see her?”

“Sure thing, Twilight.” Cheerilee nodded, then her head snapped around. “Snips! Snails! I told you before, we do not drink directly from the caramel barrels!”

Twilight covered her mouth to hide her laugh as Cheerilee left to corral her charges. Recovering, she gave the festival another once-over.

“Strange…”

There were a dozen easy explanations, of course. For all she knew, Applejack had gone into town to fetch something or other they’d run out of early. Granted, she couldn’t imagine what the farm itself wouldn’t supply, but she wasn’t as familiar with the logistics of this particular festival as she had become with other Ponyville events. Her face brightened as she saw another possible lead.

“Oh, Pipsqueak!” she called, trotting over to where the little colt was playing some made-up game or other with Featherweight and Rumble. He looked up, dropping the suspiciously sword-like stick he held in his mouth at her approach. “Oh, hi Princess Twilight.”

“Just Twilight is fine,” she chuckled, waving off his dramatic attempt at a bow. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen Applejack since she brought you out of the corn maze?”

Pipsqueak tilted his head, obviously puzzled. “Applejack?”

“Yes. Cheerilee said you got a little lost in the maze? Applejack said she’d go in to help find you.”

“Oh, not really. Well. I guess I did, kind of. Did you know the maze is absolutely huge, Ms. Twilight? I thought it was going to keep going forever! I ran and ran and ran, and I sure started to think I might not find my way out. But then I heard the music, and I followed that back.”

Twilight’s frown shifted from confused to worried. “So… Applejack didn’t find you?”

“Nope,” he said with a careless shrug. Then, with sudden concern, “You don’t think she got lost, do you?”

“I doubt that,” Twilight said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I bet she left just after you did. Thanks, Pipsqueak. You go on and catch up with the others.”

“Okay Ms. Twilight!” Pipsqueak snatched up his stick and bolted, following the others deeper into the orchard.

Twilight turned back to the festival, an unsettled feeling sinking into her gut. No one, it seemed, had seen Applejack for a few hours. Of course, someone had to have seen her, but it wouldn’t do to start going from pony to pony. It wouldn’t be very efficient, and the alarm she would provoke with a crowd-wide announcement was hardly warranted yet.

Still…

Twilight took off again, gaining just enough height to fly over the corn maze. Despite Pipsqueak’s usual wild imaginings, it wasn’t really that large, for all the land the Apples had for it. “Six or seven hoofball fields,” Applejack had said? As she flew over, she could see the bright coats of at least twenty or thirty ponies wandering through in various states of amusement and frustration, but no familiar orange or telltale brown hat.

She squinted, flying lower and checking as thoroughly as she could, though the flickering lines of path and leaf quickly made her dizzy. Could Applejack have gotten hurt somehow? It seemed the least probable thing of all, but anypony could trip and fall… and if, say, she had stumbled in among the mess of plants themselves, she would certainly be harder to see.

Twilight pulled up and gave the farm grounds another survey. No, it was odd, and she didn’t want to seem frantic—or worse, make others frantic. But it was time to expand the search. Seeing Big Macintosh and Braeburn arrive back at the festival grounds, she descended towards them.

“Big Mac, Braeburn,” she said, greeting them as soon as she had touched down. “Hey, um, I don’t want to worry anypony, but we’ve been looking for Applejack for a bit here and haven’t been able to find her. I don’t suppose she was helping you at all?”

Macintosh’s shoulders tensed, and his expression turned a shade more serious. “…nnnope,” he said slowly.

“I sure haven’t seen her,” Braeburn said. “Have you checked the games? Maybe she’s with that short-tempered friend of hers.”

“I have,” Twilight said, biting her lip. “I’ve flown over the festival a few times now. I’m sure it’s nothing, but maybe you’d both like to look too?”

“Eeyup,” Macintosh said, tossing his harness aside. “Sorry folks,” he said to the waiting line of festival attendees. “Taking a break. Be back before you know it.”

“Any idea where she was last?” Braeburn asked.

Twilight shrugged. “The corn maze, but that was hours ago. I’m gonna take a closer look at it just in case. I’ll let you know if I find her.”

Macintosh nodded and set off across the grounds at a brisk trot, Braeburn nearly having to gallop to keep up. A hop and a flap of her wings carried Twilight back to the corn maze entrance, where she caught the attention of Apple Fritter, who was selling tickets.

“I don’t suppose you saw where Applejack went after she left the maze earlier?” Twilight asked.

Fritter looked thoughtful, but shrugged. “I remember her saying to watch out for a little white and brown colt she was going in to look for, but I must’ve missed when she brought him out. That was awhile ago. Need any help?”

Twilight’s heart sank, but she shrugged off the feeling and shook her head. “No, just let me know if you see her, okay? I’m going to…”

Twilight’s ear flicked, and she felt her gaze pulled to the entrance of the maze. Something had drawn her attention, but staring down into the first walkway, she struggled to determine exactly what. A glimpse of movement? A flash of color at the edge of her vision, just for an instant? Or had it just been the swaying of the countless layers of leaves?

She frowned, taking a hesitant step closer as the uneasy sensation she had felt earlier grew. It made no sense, but something about the field was making her coat stand on end, almost as though she could feel something looking at back her, hiding just around the corner and out of sight.

For a moment, she wondered if it could be Applejack, but there was no one there. She turned back to Apple Fritter, but not before giving the tall stalks another lingering look.

“I’m gonna look around,” she said, and trotted to the first path of the maze.

“Don’t get lost!” Apple Fritter called with a cheerful wave.

Twilight stood at the intersection, wondering whether to go left or right. She hadn’t bothered to watch which way Applejack might have gone. Not that she intended to search every inch of the maze. If she flew over the rows now and then, she would be able to cover most of the field in a matter of minutes, and it would be clear whether Applejack was there. Even if she had gone off the path, Twilight couldn’t imagine Applejack would be very deep in the shadows; the corn was planted so densely, and their stems so healthy and strong, Twilight doubted she would have been able to push through them very far.

Hoping Big Mac and Braeburn would soon render the search moot, she trotted down the path, took the next available turn, and plunged into the heart of the maze.

Author's Note

Well look at that, somehow a new story after more than four years of burnout. Not what I'd planned on finishing first, but art can be funny about things like that, can't it? In any event, Happy Nightmare Night! 🎃