Ch. 11: The Walk of Pain

"Applejack!  Applejack!  Wake up!  Please, sis', I need you!"

Applejack opened her eyes to see the warm colors and comfy feel of her room.  It looked as homey as ever, but was suddenly contrasted by her crying sister, who seemed like she could've been miles from home.

"What is it, Applebloom?" Applejack asked in an affectionately curious tone, slowly working her still-warm hoof out of the covers and down to pat her frantic sister's messy red mane.

"It's other ponies, Applejack..." she said, almost hysterically, "They're in our house-"

"Robbers?" Applejack asked, sitting up in a sudden action.

Applebloom shook her head, and with a great sob, she said, "No, th-th-they've already killed..."

But she stopped there.  The filly couldn't bring herself go on.

Applejack was shocked, a million sudden thoughts rushing through her skull, each one worst than the last.

Was it her brother?

Was it Granny Smith?

Was it one of her friends?

Was it—

Bang!

Applejack suddenly stood still with her sister in a very different kind of shock.  She wanted to run, to take her Applebloom with her.  She wanted to get out of her home, to take Applebloom to somewhere where she'd never know what was behind that door.  But somehow, she could not move.

Bang!

The next slam against the wooden door, which was now shaking, catapulted Applejack's shock into action, and Applejack suddenly became very aware of the fact that there was an gun—illegal as it was—under her bed.  But that wasn't important.  Because right then, she needed to get her sister to safety.  And she knew that wouldn't be an option if she gave that old door ten more seconds.

She sprinted towards the window, letting it explode under the impact of her front hoof.

"Applejack—" her sister yelled.

"Get in!" said the orange mare firmly, ignoring her sister.

"But—"

"I said get in!"

"What about—"

Applejack sighed loudly, realizing the forceful approach wasn't working.

"Look, Applebloom, I'll be fine, okay?  Just get out of here, run as fast as you can to—"

Applejack was never able to tell her where to go, because at that very moment, the door shattered.

"Wha...  Where am I?" Applejack stammering, asking no one in particular.  Feeling the harshness of wood against her back, she realized that she wasn't in an ordinary bed—if she even was in a bed.  Her front leg hurt a bit, but she couldn't tell anything past that.  Curious, she slowly sat up, feeling her mind ache in protest, and lazily glanced over to her right.  Something black and white was curled up in the corner, moving slightly.  Blinking her eyes to focus them once again, she realized it was Zecora.

Memory shot at her like a tidal wave of emotions, reminding her of the dream she had just had.  It was a nightmare, and the sudden dampness of her worn sheets proved that fact.  But it had felt strangely real.  Not lucid, Applejack had never had a lucid dream, but just startlingly realistic, whatever it had been.  She shrugged it off, and pulled herself out of her bed.

Applejack's hooves had just hit the ground when she heard Zecora stir.

"Applejack, I have gotten all packed, just give me a second to get out of this shack," Zecora promptly stated as she got up, moving over to the kitchen.

Applejack walked over to where Zecora had just lay and casually inspected her temporarily abandoned things.  There was a machete, some medical supplies, canned goods, and another, more padded bag.  Applejack was just about to pick this up and inspect it as well when Zecora stepped in, swooping close to pick up the leather bag.

"Come here," she rhymed, headed towards the front door, "we must leave.  We do not want those things to lay siege."

Applejack, who was still slowly getting over her curiosity towards the padded bag, silently obeyed, limping over to the front door.

When the two ponies reached the outside air, Applejack widened her eyes in surprise:  The wind against her shallow fur was actually giving her the shivers!  Zecora, noticing this reaction, gave a friendly laugh.

"Oh, no, my friend, it is this Everfree Forest.  It gets cold near the fall, after when it is the darkest."

"Darkest?"

Zecora nodded absentmindedly, saying, "Why yes, the darkest, which is the night.  But it will only get warmer now that it is light."

Applejack made grunting noise, halfway between interest and understanding, and without a single glance back, they were off.

"So where we goin'?" Applejack asked after only a few minutes.

Zecora smiled and pointed ahead.

"Nah, I meant...  I mean, where does that"—she bobbed her head in the direction Zecora had pointed to—"lead?"

"To the Bogg, simple as it seems.  But the ruins are there, so it could fulfill our dreams."

"Fulfill our dreams?"

Zecora nodded.

"What's that s'pposed to mean?"

Zecora chuckled, replying, "What would you want most this hour?  Shelter, food, water...  A shower?"

Applejack ignored her family desires and instead knitted her eyebrows together, thinking.  " You tellin' me that...  That this place, these ruins, have all that?"

Zecora shrugged, saying, "Maybe, I don't know.  It's just what a heard.  But I may be too hopeful, like I have not learned."  She sighed at this.

"Well...  Why not?"

"'Hm?"

"Well, my thinkin' is...  Well, e'rything goin' to shit, right?  See, you didn't even flinch at that language!"

Zecora laughed.

"But anyway, like I was sayin'...  Ponies are dyin' left and right, bein' turned into those... things, and we got nothin' real to hold on to 'cept for this!  So why not?!"

Zecora shushed her as her words began to echo off the trees, amplifying with each syllable.

"Oh, sorry," said a now-much quieter Applejack.  Then she continued, "Well, why not be hopeful?  We got nothin' more to be hopeful 'bout."

Zecora sighed.  "Yeah, I guess that's true.  I just don't want to disappoint me or you."

"You thinkin' any other city's gone down like Ponyville?"

"Hm?" Zecora asked.

"Well, y'know, maybe 'nother place ain't got it like we have."

"The ruins might not, but that's a long shot."

"Yeah, maybe.  It's just that—"

Zecora suddenly turned towards Applejack, using the joint of her foreleg to knock Applejack down.  The country mare's old brown hat flew off as she tumbled down the hill, Zecora rolling down with her.  It seemed like forever until Applejack hit a tree, where she hit her injured leg.

"Celesti—"

Zecora stuffed a hoof in her mouth, but it was too late.

"What was that?" said a voice off the path, not too far from where they had been.

"I don't know," said a second voice, obviously foreign.  "We could..."

Applejack strained to hear as the mysterious voice faded, but Zecora was on the scene before she could grasp his words.

"C'mon, we have to stay alive.  If they catch us, we might not survive," she said in a low whisper.

"My— my leg..."

"You're going to have to work through it, otherwise you won't have legs to deal with," Zecora impatiently said, drawing Applejack's body up.  Looking down at her leg, Applejack saw that her stitches had broken.

"Zecora...  The..."

Zecora wasn't listening.  Instead, the zebra was forcing Applejack back on to her legs, however painful that may be.

"C'mon, Russ, we gotta get there before it leaves," said the voice.

Zecora began walking, Applejack slung over her like a sloppily-placed backpack.

"Nah, dude, when have we ever lost property?"

Applejack's leg was still hurting, and she noticed that the world was suddenly becoming much less bright outside.

"I don't know, there was that one time..."

Applejack felt like her leg was becoming much less painful, like her entire body could just float, if only Zecora wasn't holding on to her.

"Who gives a buck about that one time?  You buckin' screwed it up for me, alright?!  We already buckin' established that!"

Applejack felt an urge to scold them.  Why would anypony use language like that?  It was rude.  And why was Zecora's coat colored like a raspberry?

"Well—Wait, there they are!"

Applejack fell to the ground as she heard a metallic sound, and all she could smell was grass.

But man, was she tired.

All she could think about was sleep.

So she pretended that the grass, the dirt, the birds, were her home.  And this place, right now, was her bed.

She fell into slumber just as she heard thump next to her.