The Blood Runs Crazy

“You’re missing breakfast,” a voice sang in Applebloom’s ear. She pulled her head off the desk, leaving a pool of drool. Truffle Shuffle, who had survived so many years tucked in a notebook between laboriously copied song lyrics, had been almost completely obliterated.

Mosaic giggled at the sight of her bedraggled sister.

“I think I’ll skip breakfast. I need a bath.”

“You can eat breakfast while the water is being heated …”

“Nevermind,” Applebloom shook her head. Of course, there was still no indoor plumbing, “I’ll just go out back to the spring.”

She slipped out the backdoor of the house, avoiding the early risers and late fallers in the impromptu campground. The thought of someone seeing her in her present state, even if they were technically family, grated on Applebloom’s nerves.

As she walked down the path to the cluster of trees that marked the old creek, Applebloom passed through a cluster of sparrows. With each step, the stupid birds took flight and settled a few more feet in front of her. She continued forward, cursing the animals for their refusal to travel left or right of her path and leave her alone.

Finally, the copse of trees forced the birds to scatter and leave the yellow mare alone as she slid into the frigid, autumn embrace of the spring. The cold water woke her up as she slid through it. Her hooves idly paddled through the water, pushing her body out until the sand below her hooves vanished.

Beneath her, fish scattered in every direction. They moved exuberantly as the liquid separated around the foreignness of her body. Watching the little, black animals, she remembered catching them in jars when she was younger. Applejack showing her how to hold the jar still, waiting for the creatures to forget and move close enough to the inescapable, invisible maw. Scooping them up into transparent prisons.

Applebloom dunked her head beneath the surface, letting the sparkling water purge her face of two generations of drool. When she came up, her gaze settled on a crawdad regarded her from the mud. She had captured one of those tiny monsters, too.

In the single night she left it alone with her captured guppies, they had all been massacred. Her dreams that night had been tortured with small splashes and quick cuts in the dark.

The next morning, the little creatures had been floating at the surface, their bellies slit open and their organs ripped out. A sole survivor swam amongst the dead, an eyeball quietly hanging from its socket. Her sister had found her crying that morning, mourning the loss of the little fish in her care.

Applejack had laughed at first, as much at the ridiculous caricature of a face the remaining fish presented as at her sister's apparent distress. Once she had calmed, she'd explained that it was just nature. The cycle of life. Now half-blind and flickering through the water, as if it knew what hideous fate awaited it in the night.

Applebloom turned over onto her back, now oblivious to the fish beneath her, turning her hooves in a slow approximation of a backstroke. Her mane hung and swayed gently in the water, twisting with invisible currents from below.

She would have to stop by her sister’s grave this morning, as the afternoon would be filled with talking with the lawyer. It would be a bitter pain. Between the current status of the farm and inheritance taxes, there would be at least a couple days worth of bureaucratic wading to try and keep Sweet Apple Acres in one piece.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of snapping twigs, and she turned to see her brother staring at her. Her mind, still fresh with last night’s assault, urged her to swim for it. Could he swim? Did he need to swim in the shallow waters, or could he just wade out toward her.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

Big Macintosh shuffled his hooves and held out a small bag in his mouth.

“He’s sorry for scaring you last night,” Apple Mosaic, spoke up. The green and yellow filly was easy to miss beside her uncle's size. She stood staring beside Applebloom's sibling, her hooves resting on a stone.

The red simpleton nodded his head and snorted. Then proffered the bag again.

Applebloom climbed out of the water, the brisk, autumn air catching her breath. Out of the water, her mane lost its airy quality and plated, cold and wet, to the side of her neck.

“Also, Apple Rust said I should bring you a towel,” Mosaic added, pulling a white patch of cloth off her back.

Applebloom dried herself and wrapped the towel around her like a blanket before she took the bag from her brother. Opening it, she found cold pancakes, a half jar of jam, a biscuit that was at least a day old, and a piece of cheese. It was an utterly random assortment of food, but her stomach rumbled at the sight.

Without the bag in his mouth, her brother lowered his head and tossed his mane apologetically. Looking up at the sorrowful face, Applebloom couldn't help but forgive him. She threw her forelegs around his neck, and he eagerly returned the hug. This close, his mane smelled of mildew and old wood, with a slight tang of copper.

Her hooves massaged his back, feeling the flesh beneath crinkle and chaff.

The earth pony detached to eat, and her brother paused for a moment. Once he saw Applebloom quietly spreading the preserves across a pancake, he splashed into the stream. The red giant stood in the shallows, enjoying the cold as it tickled his underbelly.

Apple Mosaic sat perfectly still, her eyes wide and fixed on her aunt.

Unable to endure the silence, Applebloom asked the first question that came to mind, “What happened to Macintosh?”

“The doctor said...”

“No, not that. I mean, his skin. The accident.”

“Oh. He burned down the barn,” Mosaic returned to her quiet silence, periodically looking over to where her brother now had his nose buried in the water. After a few moments he jerked his head up, snorting and snapping at a passing guppy.

“What happened?” Applebloom probed further.

“Nopony knows. One night, we woke up and the barn was on fire. He ran all the way into Ponyville, screaming at the top of his lungs. It took five stallions to stop him.” Apple Mosaic smiled at the strength of her uncle.

Applebloom finished her meal in silence, watching the giant hunting fish in the stream. As she watched his powerful teeth snapping in the glistening water, she wondered what he’d do if he caught one.