Learning to Soarby LoleusChaptersThe Flightless FillyFarmponyPaStartFollowThe Flightless FillyRainbow Dash huffed in exhaustion. No matter how many times or how fast she flapped her wings, she still couldn’t manage to fly. Not even a little bit. The cyan-colored filly wasn’t somepony who would relinquish hope very easily, but her dreams of becoming part of the Wonderbolts were dying out quickly. Performing a legendary Sonic Rainboom didn’t look like it would happen to her anytime soon either. Rainbow stopped flapping her wings, her head drooping in shame. She’d seen Spitfire do it before, so why couldn’t she? Even Fluttershy knew how to fly for Celestia’s sake! For a filly that couldn’t fly, living in Cloudsdale, the floating city made of clouds, was an everyday danger to her...especially when she did not have parents to care for her. It wasn’t hard to shuffle around a cloud in order to move to other places, but it always made Rainbow self-conscious when others stared at her like an unwanted outcast. Where are her parents? Why doesn’t that filly have a mare or stallion looking after her? Who’s teaching her how to fly? The whispers went on and on. Truth was, she didn’t have a mother, a father, or even a distant relative to learn from—she'd lost her parents years ago, and nopony had stepped up as her guardian, leaving Rainbow Dash to fend for herself. Nopony was teaching her how to fly except herself and flight school—not that either of those were helping at all. Rainbow Dash’s unruly rainbow mane became even more disorderly as she ruffled it in frustration. Tomorrow was her first flight test and she was the only filly in class that still couldn’t take to the air. She had once thought of dropping out of flight school, but decided against it immediately. She had to learn how to fly, she decided; there was no way around it. “Would you like to...um...let me teach you?” A quiet voice from behind interrupted Rainbow’s fierce thoughts. “I...um, found you here and thought you might need some help...if you want to, of course.” What? Rainbow Dash whipped around, finding a yellow pegasus filly her age standing on a cloud a few feet away from her. She had made sure nopony was around when she’d chosen a place to practice! How didFluttershy of all ponies find her? Fluttershy shot her a nervous grin. Since Rainbow couldn’t afford to embarrass herself in front of a close friend from flight school, she thought of an extremely clever excuse. And by clever, it was really intellectual. As in, it was so smart it could be quoted again and again by ponies all over Equestria or stuck to a golden plaque and hung on a wall to be seen by all. “I, err, have to go somewhere you’re not—uh, I mean, I have to go to the...to the rainbow factory!” The cyan pegasus faked a smile. “Yeah, that’s it! I have to go write a short paragraph about how rainbows are created f-for school!” Unbeknownst to her, she was imitating a certain pony she’d meet in the near future. Fluttershy timidly inched backwards. “O-okay, if you don’t want to...” The tone in her voice made Rainbow Dash think she didn’t believe her. Before flying off leisurely, Fluttershy left her friend with a small piece of confusing advice. “Gliding’s the best way to get started.” While Rainbow watched her leave, she wondered what that meant. Because Fluttershy was the weakest flyer (aside from Rainbow herself) in flight school, she figured those words would have been useless to her anyway. But still... she shook her head. There was no use worrying about it anyhow. Rainbow scooted back home on her cloud without a second thought about it. The amazing cloud fortress that she came back to didn’t seem all that amazing after parents had left. A rainbow trail protruded from the upper dome to the side of her home, and a dazzling colorful liquid oozed out from the end of the trail, making her cloud house look essentially like a giant multicolored fountain. Rainbow Dash hopped off her cloud and landed on the crystal-blue sidewalk that lead to her front door. She struggled not to be overcome by emotion, focusing her eyes downward. She was too cool to blubber like a little filly, too awesome to wimp out like a chump, and too radical to...to... A tear slid down her face. She forced herself to keep walking, ignoring how her vision started to blur. She managed to creak the door open and promptly dashed in, slamming it behind her. “...Fluttershy?” “Um, present.” “Spitfire?” “Here!” “Rainbow Dash?” There was a moment of silence. The coach cleared his throat. “Is Rainbow Dash here?” “HERE!” Rainbow rapidly maneuvered her small cloud to the bigger one where all the other students stood. The coach, who had on a bright yellow workpony hat, stood on another cloud that was a safe distance away from his students. He fixed his eyes on the nearing filly in an unsympathetic manner. “You’re late." “Won’t happen again.” “If you insist on saying that every day, you may as well stop coming, Miss Latepants,” he flatly remarked, causing scattered laughter throughout the crowd of students. A few “Rainbow Crash” comments flew by, and snippets of students continued to chatter amiably as Rainbow’s ears flattened against her head. Spitfire watched this scene in suppressed silence. She had one more extra year of flight training than Rainbow Dash and knew how unkind the coach could be, but he could have at least tried to sound nicer. She may not have known Dash very well, but she’d seen how the coach always seemed to be taking harsher jabs at Rainbow in particular ever since her first day in flight school. Almost as if he gained a personal affinity for her. Spitfire briefly wondered if he even knew about Rainbow Dash’s obvious flight problems. Was it why he was always hard on her? Or was there another motive to it? A colt shifted in his spot next to her, noticing Spitfire’s intense stare at Rainbow. “Did somepony catch your interest, Spitty?” She ignored the obvious jab, replying in a serious manner. “Yeah, Soarin’. The coach. He’s a little too harsh for his own good.” Spitfire grumbled. “Especially around first-year students. Remember that time he made us do ten times the amount of loop-de-hoops we usually were supposed to do just because somepony had his face in a pie?” Soarin’s sly grin turned apologetic. “It wasn’t my fault somepony decided to bring blueberry pie to school!” “That somepony was the coach,” she hissed. “I—“ The coach held up his forehoof, indicating everypony to quiet down. “This is where your first test begins.” He gestured at the six ring-shaped clouds. “You go through the loops as quick as you can, and I will time you. To pass, just simply go through the entire course without skipping anything." He paused to cough. "With that said, form a line in alphabetical order.” Rainbow Dash gulped. There were no clouds underneath the loops to fall onto if the pegasi fell. How was she going to get out of this one? Spitfire, who passed by her, patted a hoof on her shoulder reassuringly and continued on her way. It took Rainbow a moment to register the touch before noticing a fiery-maned pony trotting away from her to the back of the line. Although she had been in flight school for a small period of time, she knew almost all of the students’ names, and the one that had passed by her seemed genuinely concerned. Unfortunately, Rainbow Dash hadn’t the slightest clue what her name was. Fireball? Flame Head? Heatblast? Fluttershy sauntered toward Rainbow, wishing her good luck. Her expression revealed the extreme worry she had for her flightless friend. She too must have noticed the lack of safety nets. “W-what about...um...” “Telling a coach who barely even pays attention that I can’t fly? Fluttershy, we both have been here for a little over half a year, and yet I still can’t even get my hooves in the air for over five seconds before hitting the floor while you still fly about the same! But...” Rainbow Dash waved a dismissive hoof in the air. “I’ll just try passing the test. No big deal. I can manage.” Or so she thought. She had been avoiding flying in public, but she’d bet all her bits everypony but the coach knew. Fluttershy didn’t seem surprised at her submissive behavior. “Oh, um...glide.” Then she walked to the F section of the line without another word. “Glide...?” Rainbow’s thoughts shifted back to the day before. Gliding. It was to spread out your wings and let the wind flow through you, but it was only used when pegasi...fell. Oh. Did Fluttershy really think she’d—no. Rainbow shook her head wildly, eliciting curious stares from ponies standing behind her. She had said gliding was the best way to start, not end, as in not falling, but beginning her flight. Besides—Rainbow Dash shrugged—Fluttershy probably didn’t really mean anything by the harmless advice. She was probably reading into it too much. She watched in amazement (and maybe some jealousy) as the ponies in front preformed several loop-de-hoops while passing through the cloud loops in numerous quick thrusts. Some ponies flew fast, some slow, some medium, and some as quick as lightning. The coach observed with a neutral expression, scribbling on his clipboard every time a filly completed the course. And then it was Rainbow’s turn to go. She tentatively stepped up to the edge of the cloud, trying not to look down. Instead, she focused on the first loop-de-hoop hovering a few feet in front of her. Seeing her hesitance, the coach impatiently waved his hoof for her to begin. She suddenly wasn’t so sure about toughing the test out. “Err—“ “What are you waiting for, Rainbow Crash?” A brown-coated colt standing in the back jeered, interrupting her. “Still think you can join the Wonderbolts?” “I-I...” Rainbow felt her anger returning. Her gaze hardened when she spotted Fluttershy, who had already gone through the test, cowering at the end of the line with her hooves over her eyes. Then she took a deep breath. “Just ignore him!” The fiery-maned pony called out, slamming her hoof on his head. Soarin’ joined in, giving him a stern look. “Shut up, Dumbbell.” “Ow! Since when were you two allowed to butt in?” He interjected, holding a hoof to his sore head. “Since we were more experienced than you,” they simultaneously responded in a clipped tone. Pulling the ‘higher rank than you’ card was something Soarin’ and Spitfire didn’t normally do, but they seemed to have an agreement at the moment. Bullies weren't to be tolerated. “Nopony is allowed to interrupt training except the coach.” Coach said nothing. He only nodded his head a tiny fraction in approval at his two prized students. There was a specific reason for his making them both team leaders--their admirable agility, astounding strength, and high morals. Coach's mouth slightly curled upwards, then he turned to the filly he was supposed to be watching. Instead, his eyes rested on the spot she used to be standing at. She wasn’t there. Alarmed, the coach abruptly threw down his clipboard and flew straight down, holding on to his cap to ensure it would stay on. He choked on the winds biting at his throat, threatening to steal his oxygen. There was no rainbow-maned filly in sight. No...His expression turned gloomy. He tried not to let his overwhelming emotions take him as a hazy memory seeped through. Not again. The coach frantically smashed through clouds looking for the lost filly. His lungs burned, sapping at his strength. It felt like hours before the coach ascended back into Cloudsdale grounds. His neutral face returned. He refused to give in to a sigh. Why was he so worked up over a filly whose name he barely remembered anyway? It didn’t take away the fact that it was his fault for not paying attention to the trainee, though. Spitfire’s eyebrows knitted together when she didn’t see Rainbow with the coach. The students looked expectantly at the coach for his final verdict as he picked up his clipboard in a timely manner, slowly fixing his cap. When he finally turned his attention to the fillies, he eloquently said nothing but “continue.” The test must go on. Rainbow Dash felt herself being knocked about by the highspeed winds. Unable to catch any clouds to hold on to, she struggled to breathe, but instead her oxygen escaped from her open muzzle. Barely conscious, a sad frown settled on her face as she realized her dreams of becoming a Wonderbolt and performing a Sonic Rainboom were never going to happen. She closed her eyes and fell in resignation, knowing how much of a failure in life she was. Suddenly, she was jolted by a certain word in her mind, a word that had been repeatedly said by Fluttershy. No, she wasn’t a failure, and she was going to prove it. She may have gotten a zero on the test, but it didn’t really matter to her anyway. Turns out she was prepared for this! Rainbow Dash is awesome. She spread out her cyan wings. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash felt the air around her soften. The ground was no longer rushing up to meet her. She was fly—no, not flying. She was gliding. ”Glide,” she breathed with the tiny amount of oxygen she had left. The brief moment of excitement drained from her face as she lost consciousness, and Rainbow fell the rest of the way down, landing on the thick branch of an apple tree. FarmponyApplejack was having an excellent morning. The orange filly had finished applebucking earlier than usual, and that prompted Big McIntosh to send her off to relax for the rest of the day. There was nothing else she felt like doing except kicking back and sleeping in the apple orchards under her favorite tree, who she graciously named Bloomberg. Applejack trotted briskly in the direction of Bloomberg with a broad grin. In a few months’ time, she would be having a better life in Manehattan working under her Aunt and Uncle Orange. The farmpony would miss her old life in Sweet Apple Acres, but maybe, she thought, it might be worth it in the end. Change was good, right? Back in the farmhouse, she knew Granny Smith was still quaintly moving about on her rocking chair, with little Apple Bloom napping on the old mare’s lap. Foals tended to be lethargic in the afternoon, Applejack noted. Big McIntosh was probably still tending to his duties in the fields. Being the only pony in the family that was strong enough to till the fields with a plow may have been difficult, but she knew her big brother didn’t mind as long as it helped his family. Applejack had once attempted to assist him by pulling the machinery in his place; however, she had instead ended up being suspended in the air like an upside down turtle, the plow obviously outweighing her, sheepishly requiring Big McIntosh to help her down. He, of course, took the opportunity to scold his little sister about the proper way of doing it—and failed when he was not able to keep a straight face at how silly she looked, flailing around like a drowning pony. He had to cut off his own small speech and shook his head with a small smile, telling her that she’d be able to do it when she was a little older. He then proceeded to grab the machinery and pull it down to where her hooves touched the ground again. Since that incident, Applejack hadn’t touched the plow at all. Still, it never stopped her from hearing Big McIntosh’s occasional low laughter when he harnessed the leather straps onto his solid body to plow the crops. Underneath the shade of her chosen tree, she felt like a million bits. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and Applejack preferred it that way. She sighed in content, as all was right in the great wide world of Equestria—or, at least, in the Apple family. With nothing to be concerned about, the orange pony leaned back against the tree and peacefully dozed off, the fresh scent of apples pulling her further and further into relaxation. Tranquility and peacefulness reigned with a mighty fist in Sweet Apple Acres that morning. The robust style of which the humble Apple family lived frequently called for this type of atmosphere, as the three of them rarely had company other than each other. It was kind of lonesome—in a way. Applejack and Big McIntosh took pleasure in hanging around their family, but it didn’t mean they didn’t have their own way of spending time with other ponies. And that way was via sales. Whenever Applejack tagged along with her big brother McIntosh out to sell apples, there were typically ponies walking about and chattering genially in the shopping square. When ponies stopped by their apple stand, some spoke to her instead when they realized Big Mac wouldn’t say anything more than “Eeyup” or “Nope.” His shy, stout demeanor earned him lots of crushes and respect from the passersby, while Applejack earned the title of “Suave Seller.” “Buy some apples!” She would call energetically, earning an amused smile from the red earth pony next to her. Without her, he knew, ponies wouldn’t be half as interested in buying apples as they were when she was around. “We’ve got Golden Delicious apples, Red Delicious apples, Gala apples, and McIntoshapples!” An unconscious smile found its way onto the filly’s face as she shifted in her sleep. THUMP! Applejack’s eyes snapped open. In a fit of half-drowsiness, she managed to stand up. “What in—” She yawned and rubbed the sleepiness out of her system. “...tarnation?” Applejack inquisitively looked up in the direction the noise came from. The farmpony’s previous annoyance at being abruptly roused from her slumber subsided as soon as she spotted the object of her displeasure. Resting on one of Bloomberg’s branches was an unknown cyan pegasus, her alluring rainbow mane something Applejack had never seen before. The mysterious pony seemed to be asleep, curled up in a sideways fetal position. However, Applejack’s fascination turned to apprehension when she noticed faint wounds on the filly’s stomach. She contemplated bucking the tree to bring the pony to ground, but it seemed too cruel to do it without knowing exactly how injured the cyan pony was. She tapped on the tree lightly with her forehoof. “Hey.” No response. The jagged raising and falling of the pony’s chest indicated she wasn’t dead—Applejack knew that for sure. The farmpony may have not been the brightest tool in the shed, but she knew how to recognize when it was an emergency, especially with the ragged breaths coming from the newcomer. Her heart sank as she realized reaching that particular branch without disturbing the other pony would be out of her power. Unless.... She vigilantly took her hoof off the tree and crept away. When the filly was sure she was far enough to not be heard by the mystery pony, she dashed frantically toward the fields where Big Mac was working, not giving a second glance at the mud that splashed unflatteringly on her coat in the process. She galloped with a vengeance, ignoring the lengthy dirt path that lead to the fields. Instead, the earth pony cut right through the apple orchards, careful not to crash into the trees that blocked her way. The crisp, cool morning air felt like nothing as Applejack’s serene world was shattered in two, her lungs threatening to burn to a crisp. There wasn’t the slightest chance of stopping—somepony needed Applejack’s help, and she was going to do whatever it took to deliver help as fast as possible. As she leapt over the whitewashed fence that divided the fields and the orchards, she yelled, “BIG MAC!” The red pony stopped in his tracks, pausing his plowing. “AJ?” A quick glance at his little sister was enough to make him quickly shed the equipment that he was towing. He pulled the harness from around the length of his body and yanked it off in a disorderly and swift manner. Although he was almost finished with his current task, he always looked upon his little sister in the highest regard and often marveled at her constant honesty —albeit in silence—so he automatically assumed whatever she was interrupting him with must have been very important to her. His brow furrowed in concern as he trotted to meet her halfway. He said nothing about the mud on her coat—he had mud on his too; it wasn’t uncommon for farmponies to attract dirt—as she hurriedly summed up the circumstances of which had troubled her in as few sentences as possible. “...An’ that’s why I need your help!” She finished. Big Mac nodded and replied with a quick eeyup. He then began his vigorous walk to Bloomberg, Applejack taking the lead with an even faster jog. Everything was swell until Applejack dizzily tripped and fell on the ground a few meters later. “You should jus’ pace yourself when runnin’, Applejack.” Big McIntosh grabbed her hoof and pulled her up with a reassuring smile. What surprised him the most was of the fact that Applejack had already known the pacing rule, especially since she was such a hardworking filly. Her benevolence, he supposed, was what kept her going in full force. “But I’m glad ya ran here in the first place. I know how ya always want to do things yourself.” Big McIntosh’s smile never left his face, though his eyebrows stitched together in concern at the amount of effort Applejack was outputting for somepony she barely knew. In fact, the last time he had ever seen her that frazzled was when Granny Smith broke her hip and was rushed to the hospital. The mysterious pony’s injuries must have been a gruesome sight if Applejack was compelled to push herself that hard. While he watched her recover, his thoughtful expression changed to a determined one as an idea wormed its way into his mind. “Mac! We’re wastin’ time! I wouldn’t have called for help if I didn’t need it!” Applejack erupted into a fit of coughing as she irritably raced ahead. Her legs felt extremely weary as she glanced back at her big brother, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Wouldn’t I know it.” He charged ahead, hauling his surprisingly lightweight sister onto his back. His stride didn’t slow down one bit as he rapidly continued the race to Bloomberg, Applejack clinging tightly onto his neck. His coat became even muddier than it was before...not that he cared in the slightest. “Thank you!” Applejack gratefully shouted over the clopping of his hooves. Instead of utilizing the simple “eeyup” he always would have replied with, Big Mac smiled. “Anything for family.” He gallantly marched onwards, retracing Applejack's hoofprints. PaAs Rainbow Dash’s consciousness gradually returned, she felt achy all around. Even though a thick fog still clouded her thoughts, all she could register was pain. Fiery, stinging, pain. A crude wince appeared on her features as her forehoof indistinctively brushed against her stomach—the main source of her problem. Although a whole lot of pain was heaped on her, she didn’t feel as uncomfortable as she would have figured. No familiar gusts of wind breezing through the air, no soft clouds beneath her, and—was that a blanket over her? What in the hay? She clumsily rolled out of bed in a flash. A grimace graced her face as pain shot up her sides the moment her hooves touched the wooden surface of the floorboards. She wearily glanced back at the previously tidy bed. It seemed to be welcoming her back, radiating the warmth and softness that she was currently lacking. The tangled up green blanket lay on the ground nearby, tossed by her negligence. She scrutinized it and curiously considered the possibility of picking it up, getting back to sleep, and pretending that scene never happened. A second passed before she relented and jumped on the empty bed. The bandage wrapped around her midsection pulsed as she strained to lug the blanket onto the bed. Turns out it was more difficult than expected. The blanket felt as if it was getting heavier and heavier with every heave and ho. After a few minutes of pulling and straining, she managed to settle back into her prior position. Relaxation washed over her immediately. From her spot on the bed, Rainbow gazed inquiringly at the picture frames hanging on the far side of the wall. All of them, filled with a myriad of ponies. Even Rainbow herself didn’t think she could possibly count the sheer number of them. In a most of the photos, ponies smiled and laughed happily, as if just being with each other deigned them the happiest they could ever be. Even a few of them drenched in mud radiated happiness, their lips drawn out into a huge grin. Once, she herself thought that very same way. She absentmindedly scoffed. Look where that upbeat thinking got her. Funny how being orphanized left her mind to conjure up pessimistic thoughts, in contrast to the shallow inklings of an optimistic younger foal. Really, she presumed herself a realist, negativity aside.Though she could never admit how often her thoughts drifted to dying somewhere on an empty cloud, letting herself being drowned in the cynical depths of her mind. What category did she fall in anyway? Realimism? These ponies didn’t look rich, or even complex in any manner. None of them exuded royalty in any way, but those ponies appeared contented nonetheless. They appeared more so happier than she herself could ever be. That, Rainbow concluded, meant the owner of that room was either a psychotic serial killer looking at the many ponies she could slaughter... or, they were pictures of friends and family. Rainbow shrugged dismissively. It was probably more of the former anyway. One picture at the very end of the row caught her eye. It looked the most worn, as if it was taken off and positioned back on the wall constantly. It also had the least amount of earth dusted on its edges than the rest of the frames. Rainbow rubbed her chin. Why? Was it precious? She had the urge to get up to have a closer look at it. Rainbow started to get up until she suddenly bent in a heap of hurt, the pain in her abdomen increasing by tenfold. She clutched the bandaged midsection painstakingly and gritted her teeth. In an attempt to distract herself, Rainbow placed her attention back on the picture hanging on the wall. Was there was something behind the frame itself? Hmm. What if—“Augh!” Rainbow couldn’t resist letting out a soft howl and doubled over as the pain reached its peak. She felt tears prickle at the edges of her vision and forced them back. Feeling nauseated, blood seemed to gather at the back of her throat before Rainbow swallowed. The taste revolted her, bile burning in the pit of her stomach. If that was how vamponies ate daily, then may Celestia sooner rain lightning bolts on her than Rainbow ever turning into a bloodsucker like that. She shuddered when the pain abruptly subsided. Whew, she managed to not spit blood all over the bed sheets. Awesome. A brittle smile tugged at her lips. Breathing faintly, Rainbow delicately craned her neck toward the window behind her. No use wondering what the picture frame mystery was if it was currently unsolvable. Dusk was beginning to appear, and her view of the outside world was filled with endless amounts of exquisite apple trees. It was enough to make her impressed, looking bewilderedly at just the quantity of that one fruit. Thinking back to the picture frames on the wall, it made her wonder if there were the same amount of apples as her caretaker had company. All around were apples, apples, and more apples. Juicy, succulent, luscious, mouthwatering apples.... Great, now I’m hungry. Rainbow haughtily reprimanded herself for thinking of food. As if in response, her stomach growled. She grunted. Even her stomach was a smartass. Although the apple groves had gained most of her attention, it wasn’t the only thing she saw from the window. In the far left of the orchard, she could see a fence separating the orchards from the freshly plowed fields. The mounds of soil spread across the field sparkled in the afternoon sun. Rainbow wasn’t used to seeing those brown specks her parents called “dirt,” as she primarily lived in Cloudsdale, but she knew when to recognize it. There were a few potted plants around Fluttershy’s home, in addition to seeing this “dirt” during the times she visited Ponyville with her parents. That was about all she knew in relation to the matter, though. She silently hoofed the window with a deep scowl. Memories of the past had a way of getting her schmaltzy side out, and she was determined to push any of that useless sentimentality out—even if it required force. The glower faded as Rainbow Dash eyed an orange-coated young filly her age speaking to an older colt out in the fields. His coat, a lush crimson color, was outshined by the younger filly’s luxuriant brilliant orange coat, despite being partially covered in dirt. Her pale golden mane, which was tied up in a quick pony tail, shined vibrantly in the setting sun’s rays. In said pony’s eyes, Rainbow observed a spark of worry and concern, complete with the upsetting frown of a pony in distress. Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow at this. She watched the two carefully, her muscles tensing up involuntarily as continued to see the orange pony’s array of expressions. The red colt didn’t say much, letting the filly do most of the talking. Sometimes he would speak up and invoke a more lighthearted conversation, but it never seemed to last. The orange pony obviously appeared very agonized about something—or somepony that the topic couldn’t be dropped easily. “What is it?” Rainbow murmured to herself as she lifted her hoof from the window. .......................................... “...I jus’ can’t help worryin’, Big Mac.” Applejack clutched the white fence post in her hooves. “Maybe we should check to see how she’s doin’. Maybe she’s in even more pain than we last saw her.” She frantically gestured to the farmhouse with her hoof. “Maybe she’s chokin’ on her own blood right now! Maybe she’s already gone to the other side! Maybe—“ “AJ, relax.” Big Mac placed a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. This sparked a tinge of sadness in him that scratched the surface of the gruesome past they both experienced long—or maybe not so long—ago. He wasn’t sure how long ago that tragedy occurred, but it had caused an irreparable damage to their hearts. It would have broken their spirits permanently too, beyond any sort of repair, had Granny Smith not been there to patch things up. He sighed inwardly. The last time a pony on their farm was hurt ended in death. And that hurt pony wasn’t just some stranger—it was their father. He was a kind, stalwart, robust stallion, his morals high and his honesty challenged even the most truthful of ponies. The way he’d died just wasn’t right—no, it was more than ‘not right,’ it was plain unfair. His mother’s death wasn’t any better, she being ripped from the jaws of life like a ragdoll. It was a gruesome sight indeed. A shadow of a haunted expression passed through Big McIntosh’s features before settling on a slightly content expression. “Maybe she’d appreciate her caretaker not bein’ so gloomy. Now where’s that suave seller I used to know?” She sighed and vaguely pawed circles in the ground beneath her. “I guess you’re right.” “There ya go.” He shot her a sympathetic smile before proceeding to draw a big triangle over her circles, gently pushing aside her forehooves. This elicited a “hey!” followed by a laugh from his sister. Big McIntosh’s smile turned into a smirk.“How ‘bout makin’ apple pie for our guest instead ‘a frettin’?” Taking this as a queue, Applejack leapt on his back, shouting, “On ho, horse!” Because he was done with all of his chores for the day and everything was (hopefully) put away, Big Mac decided to do the most brotherly thing he could think of at the moment. He valiantly stood on his hind legs, whinnied, and nobly galloped toward the farmhouse. Applejack had to hug the colt’s neck for dear life as this happened, but the she managed to grin in excitement rather than terror. She gripped an imaginary Stetson hat on her head. “Yeehaw!” The ride was less than smooth to Applejack. Clop, clop, clop, went her big brother’s hooves on the dirt as he raced along the path. It almost felt like a rhythmic melody, forever repeating over and over. The wind flew past their manes and the setting sun dramatically shined behind them. Applejack could practically imagine the picturesque scene they were making. Big Mac skidded to a halt as he reached the farmhouse. He nonchalantly pushed through the front door...and suddenly met eyes with Granny Smith herself. Applejack swallowed thickly as the old mare’s eyes narrowed a fraction at the mud speckling her grandchildren’s coats. Baby Apple Bloom innocently watched this scene from Granny Smith’s lap in blissful ignorance, not noticing the displeasure flashing in her current caretaker’s eyes. A faint bead of sweat rolled down Big McIntosh’s forehead. They were definitely treading on dangerous grounds. Before anypony could argue, the oldest sibling hastily backed up against the entrance and used it to exit. As soon as they were met with the cool and clear winds of the outside world, Applejack shot off of Big Mac’s broad back and bounded for the water hose at the farmhouse’s rear. Her brother trailed behind with a panicked expression that probably reflected her own. They turned sharply and reached their destination. A drippy hose hung on the edge of the roof like a snake, winding around a conveniently placed hook. There really wasn’t anything else around that part of their home other than a broken down radiator and a dirty towel. The ground beneath the siblings felt like mush, though that was to be expected. The last time they’d forgotten to wash up before heading inside their humble home was, well, a long time ago. The tongue-lashing they had received then wasn’t something that could be forgotten easily and the tongue-lashing they would most likely get as soon as they returned wouldn’t likely be forgotten easily either. A quick turn of the knob primed the water to gush out through the nozzle clutched in Applejack’s hooves. She was only able to slightly wet her mane before it slipped from her grasp and landed onto the dirt below. The farmpony was only able to clumsily pick at the hose in a bad attempt to grab it. Growling, she dove on the ground and attempted a few more times—failing each time. Next to her, Big Mac’s terror was replaced by a humorous demeanor, watching his little sister heatedly thrashing about in the mud. Was she trying to get dirtier or get cleaner? When he said this out loud, an irritated Applejack paused to face him. The smile drained from Big Mac’s face at the seriousness in her glare. If eyes could kill, he was pretty sure he would have long been dead. He nervously stepped backwards, his hooves squishing the mud beneath him wetly. On a normal day, his little sister would have shrugged off his teasing and laughed along with him, but, he realized, that day wasn’t a normal one. Applejack had been filled to the brim with hurt and worry all day, and yet he’d been oblivious to the lingering feelings she had when Big Mac thought his consoling had finally worked. Consarn it. He wanted to slam his hoof on the ground, to grab hold of his precious younger sister and hug the stress out of her. To ease her broken mind of the deaths that seemed to haunt her in the present. But the world didn’t work that way. It was as if a massive dam broke somewhere in Applejack’s strong mind, all of her grief pouring out like a waterfall and turning into torrents of rage. A roar erupted from the little filly before she rocketed into her big brother and knocked the wind out of him. Abandoned, the hose began to whip around wildly, splashing the two siblings as they tumbled about in the mud. Big Mac was immediately met with a flurry of jabs that hurt him both physically and mentally. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as time slowed. Seeing his normally good-tempered sister like this made his heart sink. He made no attempt to parry or block any of the oncoming punches, simply relenting and letting her anger flow right at him. Although it didn’t look that way, he understood her current emotions. It disconcerted him how easily he dismissed her hidden bile, but he knew that pent up anger and frustration had to eventually release if it got too much to handle. Besides, it was his fault for prodding at her open wound like a bumbling idiot. Yes, even he reacted that same way the first time he’d seen a severely injured pony. His eyes snapped shut as a fleeting memory managed to seep into his thoughts. .......................................... Big Mac looked uncertainly at the sharp spear in his hooves. “Pa, maybe this ain’t such a great idea.” His eyes shifted to the grown stallion in front. The stallion had his back to him, but Big Mac was sure his face was grim, lips set in a thin line to watch for any predators nearby. In the dark, Big Mac could only make out the rough outlines of the scraggly trees surrounding the pair. He gulped. Whatever skills his father had in being able to distinguish friend from foe in the shadowy darkness of the Everfree Forest would come in handy. His hooves ached something awful, continuously rapping tumultuously on the unsteady ground underneath him. They had been walking around for hours. “Them timberwolves...” And to make things worse, he had a sneaking suspicion something was following them. Pa’s firm gaze flickered behind him. “Don’t worry, Mac. We’ll be all right.” As an afterthought, he reached for the spare lance slung over his side and whipped it out with his teeth. The hairs on his body bristled dangerously. “We’re only goin’ to a friend’s home to get medicine for...“ He trailed off as something rustled in the trees around them. His solid frame stiffened. “Get back!” What came next wasn’t something Big Mac sought to remember. The timberwolves finally closed in, pouncing on their prey—his father—with their jaws wide open to tear the flesh and bones away, easily pinning his father down. Young and foolish he was at that time, there wasn’t anything he could do as he watched in horror while his father fought the battle himself. He couldn’t see much in the dim, shady light, and was only able to make out a few flashes of movement. There was the furious sound of kicking, punching, and stabbing as a few of the timberwolves yelped in pain. The wolves defeated by Pa exploded into mounds of regular old firewood. The remaining wooden wolves wouldn’t back down, though. Slowly, the beaten firewood began to meld back together, into a lone, bigger shape. As if pulled by magic, the lingering timberwolves came apart and meshed itself into the mold too. Big Mac stood in silence, watching the immense growth in terrified fascination. Big Mac’s spear, which had dropped from his clutches in the skirmish, hung about on the ground with no master with a desire to pick it back up. Pa breathed heavily as he stumbled to his feet. “Mac,” he growled, “Let’s go.” The faint green glow emitting from the moving timber enabled Big Mac to make out his surroundings. He saw the nearest trees splattered with the red tint that could have only come from his father. The ground was the same way—speckled with the crimson dampness that Big Mac had come to fear. Wood couldn’t bleed. The young stallion suddenly felt sick to his stomach. As much as he desired to hurl, he kept it back. The stomach-turning smell of rotten flesh overwhelmed his senses as he staggered forward to his father. “Pa...” Big Mac managed to choke out. He touched his father’s side softly. “You’re hurt.” There was an unmistakable wince from Pa. When Big Mac removed his arm, he discovered a thick, warm liquid drenching his hoof. Blood. He didn’t even have time to cry out before a loud, drawn-out, piercing roar drowned out any sort of sound. “Let’s go,” Pa repeated with more force than before. Then it dawned on him. They would never make it to their destination. The only options were to turn back or go forward. Either way, the medicine they sorely needed would remain undelivered to the pony who needed it the most—his mother. Pa seemed to be thinking the same thing. Next to him, his father’s breathing turned shallow. Blood dripping from his coat, his mind became set. Pa roared fiercely, matching the tone of the giant timberwolf they faced. .......................................... Big Mac let out a small yelp of shock as his eyes cracked open. “Say sorry!” Applejack ferociously snarled. She was small, but her muscled arms made up for it as she gave his chest one last lashing. She appeared angry, but Big Mac could see the tears pouring down her face. It disguised well against the water raining down on them like a storm. Her anger was just a façade, he realized. The past hurt her as much as it hurt him, and he could never claim feeling more trodden than her, who actually tried to help rather than standing miserably and watching as a loved one fought for their lives. Back pressed against the mud, Big Mac was silent. He couldn’t look into the eyes of the pony on top of him, the one that pinned him to the ground. He already knew what would be in them—sorrow no foal that young should have, the piercing green eyes that had the mark of a deep, intangible wound. He gave a large sob and wrapped his arms around her, pulling Applejack closer. The tears began to spill. He felt wretched. “I’m sorry.” Applejack stiffened in surprise at the sudden sincerity. She hadn’t expected him to apologize in that manner. He was lenient, to say the most. His pride drove him, just like her pride drove her. Apologizing never came easy for either of them. A few seconds passed until she finally sighed. That anger wasn’t really pointed at him, despite him being the trigger. She hadn’t snapped before, but she’d already known what would happen if her fury was released. The filly had pounced on her own brother—something her better judgment would argue against. Then again, her mind felt cloudy and foggy in the spur of the moment. All Applejack was able to think about was how the newcomer could very well end up like her mother, and Big Mac had the nerve to joke around. One day she would apologize...though, at the moment, it felt better to just bury her face in her brother’s warm embrace and cry along with him. Time passed them by, and the sky soon became as dark as the Everfree Forest. It wasn’t long before the two of them had to get to their feet and wipe any feeble tears away. After all, moping eternally wouldn’t get them anywhere. The pair silently hosed themselves off. Big Mac held the nozzle in his teeth, spraying any stray dirt that lingered on his sister’s coat. Applejack did the same when it was her turn to clean her brother’s coat. Smoothly taking the hose away from him, she showered his hide until it gleamed. A nice, subtle apology suited her better anyway. As they trotted back, Applejack and Big Mac felt better than ever since the death of their parents. The pressure that frequently weighted them down felt as light as a feather, and if there was any bond between them then, it was most likely stronger than steel now. Applejack cheerfully turned to the red pony next of her. “How ‘bout that pie?” “Eeyup.” He flashed her a smile. .......................................... Carrying a lukewarm plate of apple pie, Applejack pleasantly drifted into her room—where her mysterious pony lay. Her rise in mood wasn’t surprising, given that fact that she’d immediately checked on the cyan pony when she finally reached the inside of the farmhouse to find that the dozing pony was okay. Granny Smith had also conspicuously refrained from lecturing up a storm during the siblings’ arrival. With a quirked eyebrow, she noticed the change in their step, from a slightly held back happy disposition to an all-out blissful one. Granny Smith didn’t ask a single mumbling question about the how or why. The old mare was simply content with the outcome, though she had a sneaking suspicion concerning what happened out there, judging by the welt on Big McIntosh’s cheek. Applejack sure had a rather fine left hook, she mused to herself. Rainbow Dash’s eyes fluttered open when she smelled the delicious pie. It wafted into her nostrils and surreptitiously woke her up. Her traitorous stomach growled eagerly. The orange earth pony standing in the doorway laughed mirthfully. “Heh, I reckon you must be hungry.” She stepped closer to the bed. Rainbow’s face lit up as she recognized the pony from the fields. Thinking back to how troubled the orange pony looked before, there wasn’t a trace of that particular distress anywhere up close. The previous unhappiness that Rainbow had witnessed in the afternoon didn’t seem to be on the other pony’s features anymore, a lazy sort of smile gracing her face instead. “I’m Applejack. Nice to meet ya,” she drawled. “I’m Rain—ah!” As she struggled to sit up, the strain on her abdomen caused the pain to reappear. Rainbow Dash bit back a curse while the second wave of pain rippled through her system. Applejack gently pushed her down to the position she was in before. “Whoa there, partner.” Applejack set the sweet-smelling pie on the table next to her bedside and settled down on the floor. “No need to hurt yourself just to eat,” the farmpony said softly. She tenderly kept her expression even. “The pie ain’t even completely cool yet.” Rainbow cleared her throat uncertainly. “I’m Rainbow Dash.” “Rainbow Dash, huh?” Applejack’s gaze flashed to the other pony’s mane. “I’d say it fits.” An empty silence ensued whereas Rainbow Dash pondered what to reply with. She, however, didn’t have to think any further when the orange filly opened her mouth to ask the most obvious question. “How’d you end up here?” She winced at the bluntness of it. Not that Applejack sounded harsh, but she was certainly one to get to the point pretty quickly. “I fell—from Cloudsdale, I mean.” Rainbow Dash heaved a sigh. “When I was taking my first flight test, I failed and accidentally threw myself down here.” “You can’t fly?” Applejack asked, not even batting a doubtful eye at the allegation of “accidentally throwing” herself thousands of feet downwards. She sounded genuinely interested; unlike many of the bullies she’d faced back home. Rainbow shook her head. “No? Guess we’ll have to remedy that.” An earth pony teaching a pegasus how to fly? The very idea was preposterous, the two fillies knew, but it was a warming one nonetheless. It was like suggesting drinking out of an acid bowl—no one in their right mind would put forward something like it. And yet there was sincerity in Applejack’s eyes that insinuated the seriousness in her offer. She clearly wasn’t crazy and there wasn’t an evil gleam in her eyes, so why not? After Rainbow accepted reliantly, the conversation took a turn into a more neutral one. How are you feeling? Is there anything else you need? How’s Cloudsdale? These questions were answered promptly, and then Applejack moved to any topics that could be spoken about. What are rainbows made of? What do you do when a thunderstorm appears? Is the sky any bluer up there than down here? Do you celebrate Nightmare Night too? What Rainbow Dash noticed, though, was that the subject never switched to her previous caretakers—her parents—and she was everlastingly grateful for that. It felt like a tender subject to breach. Unknowingly, the pegasus never realized how scorching hot the issue was for the farmpony sitting near her as well. Applejack wasn’t completely sure she’d be able to hide her grief at the mention of “parents” at the moment, after just recovering from a breakdown herself. She’d spoken warmly about her brother, her granny, and even her dog Winona, but there wasn’t a single remark about her own parents. Rainbow Dash found herself enjoying every word shared between them, easily indulging herself into the undemanding lull of the chat, which was why she felt a pang of disappointment when the discussion abruptly reeled to a halt. Was she warming up to the new stranger? Yep. To Rainbow, that wasn’t really a bad thing. Timid Fluttershy had hardly kept her attention for very long, speaking only when necessary and barely holding up her side of the conversation when spoken to. “You should eat,” Applejack said, pointedly glancing at the pie on the table. “It ought to be cool by now.” Helplessly stretching her arms for it, Rainbow continued to hold the farmpony’s gaze and casted a mockingly pathetic look at her. To her satisfaction, Applejack scowled. “Cute.” Then she cracked a conceding smile and stood up to leave the room. Moments later, she reappeared with a spoon. Rainbow’s eyes widened when she grasped her intent and narrowed her lips, crossing her arms defiantly. “You are not spoonfeeding me.” “You asked for it.” Applejack smirked and took a dollop of pie, raising it high enough to be level with her patient’s jawline. “No I didn’t!” And so, that was the spark of a new friendship—or rivalry. Maybe both. Start“Pa died.” That was all the young colt could say when he returned from the dark depths of the Everfree Forest. Big McIntosh’s coat, bloodied and matted, dripped a trail of oozing red liquid behind him as he stepped into view. The shameful part? None of the blood belonged to him. Applejack regarded him grimly from the front porch and watched as he emerged out of the apple groves. Sitting idly on her hindquarters, she said nothing and only moved to motion him over with a flourish. At her command, Mac obeyed willingly, dragging his exhausted body toward her. Once he was a hare’s breadth away, Big Mac stopped just short of the deck. Even through his clouded thoughts, he could practically hear Granny Smith lecturing his etiquette in his head, going on and on for hours about not tracking mud—or blood, as it was—onto the terrace. Boy, she would have a fit, complaining how grueling it was to wash out that noticeable stench and appearance off the wood’s usual buff surface. His effort to dish out a small smile nearly made him topple to the ground had he not been staring intently into Applejack’s countenance to watch her reaction to the news. Instead of a smile, the edges of his lips continued to point downwards and finally settled into a cross between a grimace and a frown. Like hay Granny Smith would be more concerned about the flooring when her son’s death had recently come to pass, he thought as he pushed the matter aside. To his surprise, his little sister’s expression remained schooled, like Pa dying was natural. It was natural for ponies to pass away—expected even, but how could she handle it so darned easy? If it was he who had just been given the news, Big McIntosh was sure he would have been in shambles by then, beating on the ground in anger and frustration at the unkind fate of which had befallen his father. Was it really fate, though? Or was it just because of a useless son? Big Mac couldn’t help but wonder. He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts before instantaneously being cut off by Applejack’s sudden question. “What happened?” Big McIntosh felt himself exhale sharply. How blunt. Still, it was a response that was expected from his little sister. Tired, and with a heavy heart, he illustrated it with a wary clamp on graphic descriptions. “It was bad,” he started. ... He had tried, with unreserved desperation, to drag his father back home. Shoving, begging—even threatening had not worked. Riddled with multiple bite and claw marks, Pa had simply laid there on the bloodied soil and let his life slowly seep away as he blatantly ignored Big McIntosh’s frantic requests to get up. His limbs hung uselessly to the side, and he breathed shallow and jagged breaths while Big Mac shook his father’s limp body as if the effort would magically cure him. The young colt forcefully bit back the horror that came with every bloodstain splashing on his already-red coat. The timberwolves had done a number on him, that’s what. But Pa had warded them off, knowing full well of the danger he placed himself in. Pa may have fought the losing battle, but he did what a father should have done, and that was all that mattered to the frightened colt. This amazing feat alone was even enough to gain his undying loyalty—and yet that heartfelt devotion didn’t seem to be able to make his hero undying himself. Pa was undoubtedly the opposite of undying at that moment. “Pa! You have to get up!” Big Mac continued to fruitlessly shake his father’s side. He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face as the injured stallion’s breathing slowed to a soft wheeze. “Please, Pa!” Through clenched teeth, all Pa did was whisper in a quiet, strangled voice, “Get yourself home. There ain’t no savin’ me now, Mac.” And then he grew silent. His eyes were already starting to become glassy. ... Applejack breathed a sharp intake of breath as her brother quoted their father. Still, she did not react, seeming to rank staying silent higher than speaking. The filly looked like she was mulling through the situation’s events slowly, bit by bit. Though her eyes were carefully shielded from Big McIntosh’s view, he could plainly see—no, feel— a tinge of disturbance radiating from her, which was why he immediately regretted saying his next impulsive words. “...Pa died,” Big McIntosh said once more to the filly before him, and then whispered a soft “I’m sorry” as an afterthought. He hung his head, feeling the shameful emotions of which he had already experienced on the frenzied run back home. “I—I’m fine.” She waved him off. Almost as if to back up her point, her tearless face hadn’t indicated any sort of emotional turmoil, save for the sad, wispy eyes and deep frown etched onto her features. At this point, Big Mac could barely contain his curiosity. Had she been taught to maintain her emotions during the days he and Pa were out, or was her lack of empathy the cause of some other reason? If that was so, Mac wondered what terrible calamity would have shaken her up that badly. Then again, grief was pretty much flogging any sort of common sense he had at the moment—for a very good reason, too!—and he really couldn’t get to the bottom of his inquiries without questioning her directly, though he thought she probably wouldn’t want somepony to just nose in her business in such a manner. Besides, he shrugged, if it involved him, Applejack would surely let him know in due time. Then he cautiously took a seat beside her and, turning to his little sister, spoke gently. “You’re actin’ awfully strong today, sis. I’m proud of you and all, but...it’s fine to cry once in a while. ‘Cause sometimes problems are too much for one pony to handle themselves, y’know.” “I reckon I’m...too tired to cry.” Applejack finally sighed, and a second passed before she deigned to speak again. “Ma...she died a while back.” The filly glanced over at the surprised expression on Big McIntosh’s face and simply forged on, cutting off the questions bubbling at the tip of his tongue. “Soon as she found out the two of you were in the Everfree lookin’ for a cure for her, she done bolted out of bed in the night to find y’all. An’ it was durin’ a thunderstorm, too.” Then she paused, her face darkening. “You remember how Pa always told us to stay away from trees so we don’t get struck by lightning, right?” “Yeah, it’s ‘cause trees conduct lightning,” Big Mac ventured. “Why?” Applejack was ominously silent. For a split second there, Mac could have sworn he saw tears brimming on the edges of her eyes as she turned away. Did that mean...? “No...no...that...” He trailed off, not daring to finish his thought. “Ma was struck by lightning,” she finally said. “When I heard her sneakin’ out, I came with her to find y’all. I tried to stop her for a while, but Ma wouldn’t budge and told me to go home, sayin’ it was dangerous for a filly like me out in the woods. I wanted to say it was dangerous for her too, but I just couldn’t find the words to, y’know?” It almost sounded like she was choking on the words coming out of her mouth, rushing her words and slurring a few lines as if she wanted to get the explanation over and done with. Big McIntosh nodded. “I didn’t want Pa goin’ out to the Everfree either. I knew he was doin’ it for Ma, but...” “She was out there for Pa. And you.” Applejack absently wiped away her stray tears. “Then she started gettin’ tired and finally listened to my advice for once.” She paused and winced as if being force-fed bitter leaves. “We were just turnin’ back when the timberwolves came.” The colt shuddered. His recent experience with the beasts hadn’t been pleasant, and the thought of Applejack meeting those bloodthirsty fiends did nothing to quell the sinking feeling in his stomach. “An’ then what?” “What else? I did what I could,” she said. “I fought them.” ... In his mind’s eye, Big McIntosh imagined his little sister fighting off a horde of monsters, standing protectively in front of their mother as to not let them inflict any pain upon the weakened older mare. Though Ma was pretty strong herself, she had recently birthed baby Apple Bloom, and it was from the birth process itself that had taken a huge toll on her physical health. It had been the main reason Pa overexerted himself to find his friend in the Everfree Forest to get medicine, and the source of all-things horrible happening to the two siblings’ mental state. “Hyah!” Applejack lunged forward and caught the pack’s leader in the face, plunging the sharp branch into its exposed glowing green eye. He could picture the way the wolf had yowled in pain, and how Applejack had turned away to engage the other beasts, not having time to savor the temporary victory. She bucked them like nopony’s business and landed each of them two hind legs to the chest, silently thanking Celestia with every felled enemy. There were beads of sweat running down her face as she desperately guarded her mother with the measly stick, her sweat dripping in both jarringly terrified and determined drops. Eventually, the two had been cornered. Their mother, Applejack described, was huddled up with her back against the thick tree behind them, yelling for Applejack to come to her “for safety.” “Applejack!” Ma pleaded. “Please! You don’t have to do this for me!” Applejack hadn’t spared a look back and simply crouched into the fighting position that she’d always used when playfighting against her big brother. Who would have figured it would be used in a real fight? “Shh,” Applejack tiredly wheezed through the branch gripped tightly in her jaws. “I ain’t gonna die today, Ma.” Fate was probably feeling cruel that day. As soon as she had said that, a bolt of lightning zipped down from the sky and flashed behind her, lighting up the exact place their mother was standing moments before. “Ma!” But Applejack’s alarmed shout had only reached deaf ears—the deed was already done. The little filly could only numbly look back at the charred remains of what used to be her Ma, tears welling at the gruesome sight. The pony she was fighting so hard to protect had been killed by the protection itself. What horrible irony. ... “Ma!” His little sister’s cry echoed in Big Mac’s head, over and over and over again. He resisted the urge to keel over and break down like the weak pony he was. Just listening to his little sister’s account made him want to hurl the contents of his stomach—which probably wasn’t much— onto the terrace. “The tree conducted the lightning to Ma,” Applejack said beside him, remaining as motionless and stiff as a rock. When Big McIntosh turned to her for comforting, he discovered that her face held a very sharp edge to it, like the little farmpony was forcefully holding back tears. Maybe she was. Big McIntosh dropped the hoof he was subconsciously raising to clasp on Applejack’s shoulder. It was a natural reflex that he’d made a habit of doing when he knew his little sister was down, just like during the times when Applejack would accidentally make a mistake and silently beat herself up over it, no matter how big or small the mistake happened to be. Though, his hoof was a little too bloody to be used as a comforting device at the moment, he decided. “What about the timberwolves? What happened to ‘em after Ma...died?” “Scared by the lightning. After them varmints ran away, I brought Ma back home and buried her like Pa would’ve wanted.” This would be the first (and certainly not the last) time he had ever seen her expression so devoid of any sort of emotion. Young’uns weren’t supposed to have eyes that spoke of deep sorrow, or reasons to shut themselves up tight in the dark, gruesome fields of their minds. Applejack had good causes for both. And that genuinely scared him. In that moment, Big McIntosh could feel his life crashing down on him. ............................................................................................................................. Rainbow Dash restlessly twisted and coiled around in her sleep that night. Incoherent thoughts of anguish swirled around in her agitated head, and she had unknowingly rolled off her—or rather, Applejack’s—bed in a fit of murmured whimpering. She landed right next to Applejack’s sleeping form on her makeshift bed of hay and unwittingly shocked the dozing farmpony awake. Miraculously, Rainbow Dash hadn’t stirred at all during her fall and had only managed a weak “oof” at the landing before going back to her terror-filled tossing and turning, occasionally sighing bits and pieces of words. “Stop...arrgh...live, damn it...Apple...jack...” If she had been conscious at all, she’d have surely been frowning profusely and silently chiding herself to not do embarrassing things around her caretaker like that. What she would not realize until morning was that the orange filly made no attempt to push her away (Rainbow Dash did, after all, invade her personal space) and instead wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer—presumably to warm the pegasus up, of course. Rainbow Dash hadn’t even heard her when Applejack mumbled breathlessly, “It’s alright. Sleep; I’ve got you.” As Rainbow Dash’s mind eased to a calming point, everything became right again. ... Hours later, at dawn, the two fillies were awakened by the sound of a crowing rooster. The rapid “cocka-doodle-doo”s resonated throughout the farm every single day to wake the sleeping Apple family—plus one!—and frankly, Rainbow Dash hadn’t ever gotten used to that part of staying at Sweet Apple Acres. She was fine with the intense applebucking, seasonal field-plowing, and even the amusing art of apple selling, but waking up early? She didn’t get that at all. Which was why she rolled over and grumbled, “Shut up.” Naturally, Rainbow Dash was never an early riser and preferred the late rays of sun from the afternoon light. She was a lazy and carefree pony at heart, after all. Being surrounded by hardworkers did little to ease that lazy streak. The rooster quieted a moment later. To her right, Applejack let out a tired yawn and shifted in the hay. “Whuh...? Rainbow...what are you doin’ on my bed...?” Evidently, she was not perturbed by the relentless rays of sunshine protruding through the glass window and was more concerned about a warm body lying beside her. Talk about low priorities, Rainbow Dash thought. She refused to open her eyes at the sound of her bedmate’s obvious confusion and deigned to mutter in an irritable voice, “Just go back to sleep, AJ.” Due to not being conscious for the better half of the previous night, Rainbow Dash herself had no clue as to why she was currently sprawled on Applejack’s makeshift hay bed either, and she wasn’t really awake enough to actually care. In her opinion, it was too early and too comfortable for any sort of coherent thought at the moment. Without quite realizing it, she reflexively reached out and gripped the other filly in a tight bearhug, wrapping both arms around Applejack’s suddenly-stiff shoulders and ignored the slight twitch that came from the farmpony at her sudden touch. That simple movement felt so familiar and reassuring that she had a sneaking suspicion that something like that had happened in the night. The thought of unconsciously cuddling her best friend in the dark brought an uncomfortable feeling to her chest. She swallowed, hoping Applejack hadn’t felt her heartbeat quicken. The hay crinkled softly as Applejack writhed in an attempt to disentangle herself from underneath Rainbow Dash. When that method failed, the farmpony opted to relax into her embrace instead, breathing a sigh torn between contentment and aggravation. “...Hey,” she growled quietly. “If you’re gonna stay like this all mornin’, the least you can do is let me breathe.” “Heh, sorry.” Rainbow Dash’s hold slackened. “It’s a good thing today’s our day off, RD. Otherwise I would’ve...” When Rainbow Dash finally opened her eyes to inquire about the farmpony’s unfinished threat, she found that Applejack was already sound asleep, face relaxed into a softer and innocent expression, completely opposite of the midly-intimidating tone she was using a few minutes ago. She sighed. “So you were more tired than me after all. Maybe you shouldn’t do that anymore—hide your true feelings from others, I mean. We’re practically family, AJ. If you can’t trust yourself, trust your family.” Rainbow Dash wasn’t quite sure if the farmpony had heard her until Applejack said, with her eyes still firmly shut tight, “I know.” “...Good, ‘cause you should explain what I meant later...I didn’t understand a single word of it,” she yawned. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash felt the hay shift again. Only, it wasn’t because Applejack was moving to push her away. Instead, she looked over to find that the farmpony was quietly shaking in laughter. Without releasing her grasp around her companion, Rainbow Dash raised a curious eyebrow.“Something funny, AJ?” Applejack stilled, though the broad smile was still plastered on her face. “I was jus’ thinkin’.” “About?” “Well, since you were so afraid last night, I figured I would have to take care of you in the morning. Then you went and turned the tables on me.” She shrugged dismissively, though it was a little difficult to do so with the extra weight pinning her down. Rainbow Dash slowly freed her hug enough to still have one arm around Applejack’s shoulder and moved the other to prop herself on her elbow. This way, they lay face to face and were only a few centimeters away from actually brushing noses. As she opened her mouth to speak, she tried not to think about the closeness between them, or about how Applejack’s surprisingly-fresh breath was hot on her face, or even about how the farmpony’s attention was fully rapt on her every movement. It was a little too early for those kinds of shenanigans anyway, and she felt groggy enough to not want reasons to warrant embarrassment. Still, she felt her face flush. “That story you told me a while ago—the one about how your parents died—it gave me nightmares.” “Sorry.” The earnest sincerity in Applejack’s voice with that one word nearly made Rainbow Dash want to nod and accept the apology, but she refrained from doing so and pressed on with a huge effort. “But that’s just it, Applejack. It only gave me nightmares. What about you? You were there. It must have been terrifying.“ “It was scary,” Applejack admitted. “But I think I’m gettin’ over it. My family’s helpin’ me out a lot.” They were both silent for a moment. “...AJ?” “Yeah?” “Let’s go to sleep.” “Mm.” When Applejack raised her arm over Rainbow Dash’s to pull her nearer and fiercely return the hug, it was then that the pegasus realized how thankful she was for her unexpected (yet warming) family. It may not have been as carefree and colorful as her old life with her parents in Cloudsdale, but it was just right. This was the ideal family—or, at least, it was her ideal family, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Besides, it felt a little better to just thank her best friend with actions rather than words. For the first time that month, Rainbow Dash drifted off to tranquility. ............................................................................................................................. “...know how to do it! Just gimme a second to practice!” A fiery maned pony winced as a crash echoed soon after, followed by a yelp of pain. “Ooh, sounds painful,” Spitfire grunted to herself with a small smile. She sat perched on a high tree branch, listening in on the action below; her body crouched in a half-relaxed half-stiff position in case a fast escape was needed. Though the view was mainly obstructed by the many leaves and branches hanging beneath her form, she could tell just by hearing the thuds and cries of frustration that somepony down there was having a hard time. And by somepony, she meant Rainbow Dash. And to think that just the thought of the blue pegasus being not-dead could bring a giddy smile to her face. “Dash,” an amused voice said. “Applebucking may look easy, but it ain’t. Here, lemme show it to you again.” Thud. The tree nearby shuddered and shook as Spitfire heard something drop. Probably an apple, judging by the loud chomp that it resulted in. “Anf thas how ya do it!” The muffled voice triumphantly called. “Applejack...” Rainbow Dash groaned. “Stop showing off.” Evidently, the object in the other pony’s mouth was removed as clear, peal laughter reached Spitfire’s ears. “That sounds kinda funny comin’ from you,” the accented voice continued. “You’re probably the definition of showoff.” Applejack, was it? Spitfire struggled to contain her own sniggers as Rainbow Dash spouted a sarcastic “ha ha” in response. Three months. It’d been three months since Rainbow Dash’s “death.” It had taken Spitfire a whole month of searching high and low in Ponyville just to sigh dejectedly and call it quits after weeks of no results. In fact, she had just been trudging past Sweet Apple Acres (which was on the edge of town and, admittedly, the only place she’d automatically skipped, deeming Rainbow Dash to be the non-rustic type) when a loud “oof!” floated past her ears. She had briefly stopped to wonder if somepony needed her help when another voice growled, “Careful there, Dash. Wouldn’t want you to split your noggin again.“ “I didn’tbreak my head that time,” a familiar voice had whined. “I only fell...from hundreds of feet up. From Cloudsdale.” Dash? Rainbow Dash?! Spitfire’s mind had gone on autopilot to quickly connect the dots. Rainbow Dash was there? Then, when her conclusions were drawn and solutions hastily planned, she had felt her body automatically surge forward and off her original course to pursue a stealthier route—high up in the air, straight towards the nearest apple tree. ...And so, that was how Spitfire, proud team leader of Cloudsdale’s flight school, was reduced to hiding at the very peak of an apple tree just to eavesdrop. She grimaced at the thought of her earlier impulsiveness and, with a quick frown, shrugged it off as if it were nothing. Oh well. It could’ve gone worse. At the very least, she had found the pegasus relatively unharmed and...well, if Rainbow Dash was going to continue trying to knock that tree over, she may as well have been marked “injured” in her books. She forcefully shifted her attention to the present as Applejack sighed, forcing the blue pegasus to temporarily halt in her pounding of the tree. “Today’s our day off, ain’t it? Why’re we out here buckin’ trees?” “I want to learn!” Rainbow Dash immediately bit back. Her tone softened as she seemed to realize how harsh she was sounding. “I just...sorry.” Spitfire couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her sudden apology. In the short time that she’d known the pegasus, she hadn’t ever heard so much as an ‘excuse me’ from her, much less a genuine ‘I’m sorry.’ She didn’t have long to ponder the Rainbow Dash’s utmost sincerity and trust toward the stranger—Applejack—since the two fillies were already pulling away from the apple groves. Trying not to let out an exasperated cry, Spitfire quietly scurried after them, jumping from branch to branch and using her wings to soften each landing. “Just stay in one place,” she angrily muttered as she was led toward the general direction of a nearby hilltop. What exactly were those two ponies planning to do there? Roll down? Once the trail of trees ended, she relented in her pursuit and deigned to watch from afar, shielded from sight in the brambles of the apple trees. She softly pushed aside a thin branch to reveal a clear view of Applejack sitting on the grassy outcrops while Rainbow Dash stood a few meters away, speaking words that Spitfire could not hear from the distance. Her expression was nearly unreadable. Applejack patiently waited for her to finish before saying something that made Rainbow Dash slowly trot over and sit alongside her. After a brief moment of fleeting silence as the pegasus settled into her spot, Applejack said something else, earning herself a dubious expression from said company. To this, the orange pony straightened and haughtily huff out a reply. Rainbow Dash’s ears flattened against her head as she seemed to be at a loss for words. Was that a “thank you” coming out of her mouth? Spitfire never thought of herself as a master lipreader, but it seriously looked like it. Applejack smiled and said something else, causing Rainbow Dash to return the smile with her own. What the hay were they talking about? She itched to bolt out of her hiding place and demand answers. Sadly, she wasn’t in the mood to be labeled a stalker and thus kept a lid on it. When was it ever a good time to appear out of nowhere and say, ‘Hey, I was just watching you from those apple trees over there and could you speak a little louder so I could hear you? Maybe even repeat a few of your lines too? ‘Kay thanks.’ Confused as she was, Spitfire made no move to come through with her morbid plan. Needless to say, she only stared. Rainbow Dash was standing again, the only difference being the fact that Applejack was by her side. They stood at the very edge of the hill overlooking the entire farm, beneath the clear blue sky and in the rays of the afternoon sun. The gentle wind tousled their manes a bit, carrying away the words floating out of their mouths as the fillies softly conversed. Spitfire could only gawk in miserable silence as she wished to know what they were saying to each other. Was it too much to ask, for just one moment, to have the comprehension that was needed to understand the situation? Or maybe, she sighed, just one little bit of dialogue to go by and make conclusions out of? She gasped slightly as Rainbow Dash shot her companion a grin and jumped from the hill, extending her wings to a movement that Spitfire knew very well from her beginner’s class at flight school: a glide. Applejack grinned back and yelled, “Now, while you’re floating! Move your wings! Not too fast! ...Not too slow either!” Spitfire’s look of awe as Rainbow Dash followed her commands didn’t compare at all to the look of joy gracing the blue pegasus' face herself as she steadily gained distance from the ground, flitting upwards instead of downwards. Her iridescent mane shone in the afternoon sunlight, inadvertently creating a picturesque scene. “AJ, I’m flying!” she called. And as quickly as that joy had come, it faded as Rainbow Dash was suddenly struck by strong winds. The gusts fought for control, the tendrils of air continuing to push her backwards until the pegasus started to plummet. Spitfire gritted her teeth as she heard Rainbow Dash’s inherent yelling and remained rooted to the spot, determined not to blow her cover. Luckily for her, Applejack was already on the move. “Hold on, RD!” She raced to the side of the hill where the pegasus was freefalling, diving to break Rainbow Dash’s fall. With a thud and a pained “ow,” Rainbow Dash landed squarely across her best friend’s back, forming a blue-and-orange plus sign with the literal addition of her own body. For a moment, everything was deathly still, their eyes locked together as if in a trance. Spitfire breathed an audible sigh of relief as they burst into laughter a split second later, melting away the building tension. Suddenly, she became fully aware of the fact that they were a little too close to her location—meaning she could actually understand what they were saying. “Didya see me? I was flying!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, raising her hooves excitedly. She didn’t seem to realize that her own body was draped across Applejack’s lone form. “That was awesome!” Applejack cheerfully returned the enthusiasm twofold. “Yeah, I’ve never really seen many pegasi my age flyin’ around before. What was it like?” “Like...I dunno, feeling free or something, I guess.” The farmpony quirked an eyebrow at the simple response. “Maybe I should ask you that question again tomorrow morning—when you’re half-asleep.” She grinned. “An’ smarter.” “Joke’s on you, AJ,” Rainbow Dash breezed. “Now I have an excuse to sleep on your bed again.” “Now, who says I don’t enjoy bein’ in your company...?” Spitfire abruptly turned away, feeling like an intruder. The two obviously had formed some sort of close bond over the last three months—there was nothing odd about that. There was just something intimate about the way they interacted that had felt sincerely off-limits to outsiders. As she took a careful step backwards, she spotted movement on the edges of her vision and turned her whole body to face it. What she saw was—“Fluttershy?” she whispered. The yellow pegasus quietly nodded her affirmation and shyly raised a hoof to indicate silence. Then she turned and floated off her nearby branch with ease, heading away toward Spitfire’s intended direction. The fiery maned pony followed after her, berating herself for not noticing her friend’s presence earlier. She supposed the fault was in the fact that she’d been too engrossed in Rainbow Dash and her best friend’s exchange that she had subsequently forgotten to actually focus on anything other than the pair of fillies in front. Her face burned at the thought of intruding on their private lives in such a manner. They silently passed through the apple orchards and had been following another dirt road before Spitfire stopped, recognizing the outbreak of green forest greeting them at the end. “Fluttershy, wait!” she called to the filly walking a few meters ahead of her. “This road leads to the Everfree Forest!” Fluttershy halted, squeaking out a small “eep!” This small disturbance allowed Spitfire to catch up. When she pulled up next to her friend, she couldn’t help but sigh at Fluttershy’s terrified expression. “We don’t really have anywhere to go,” she said, keeping her voice even. “So—“ “I-I have a cottage near here, s-so we could go there if we wanted,” Fluttershy hurriedly cut in. “A-actually, it used to be my parents’ but they aren’t alive anymore so I think it’s okay.“ Now Spitfire was perturbed. “You’re an orphan too?” Her mind was spinning in circles as she processed the new information. She frowned. “Why was I never told?” “You, um, never exactly asked,” Fluttershy timidly answered. As if to avoid any more talk, she lightly reached out and pulled Spitfire’s arm to her body, gently guiding her off the road and to the right. “L-let’s go.” Spitfire looked from her arm to the pegasus pulling on it, eyes slowly darting back and forth between the two before being veered off course. They walked along the edge of the Everfree Forest for a while before the yellow pegasus actually let go of her arm. Spitfire distinctly remembered Fluttershy mumbling something about the cottage being near the forest and figured that may have been the only reason for her not being led directly away from the creepy-looking shroud of endless trees. Without a road or path to follow, Spitfire was starting to feel a little anxious—and lost. Despite that feeling, she only had to look over at Fluttershy’s determined expression to be reminded of the faith she had in her friend’s sense of direction. Eventually, though, treading on nothing but grass and gravel for more than an hour paid off when they were met with an unusually narrow dirt road. It haphazardly began in the middle of the grass, like a sidewalk that was not meant to be discovered by random onlookers. A sharp glance in the distance confirmed Fluttershy’s earlier claim; the home awaiting them on the end of the path was definitely a cottage. As Spitfire shoved open the creaky front door, she tried not to notice the dust billowing from the edges of the gate; though she was evidently unsuccessful due to some of the said dust collecting at the back of her throat and forcing her to let out loud coughs. She didn’t need to glance down to know that her hooves were probably caked in grime. Scanning over the inside of the cottage, Spitfire could see that everything was covered with a thin film of dust—everything but the oversized couch in the corner, which she automatically assumed was Fluttershy’s temporary bed. She immediately trotted over to it and sat down without a moment’s hesitation, letting her tired joints relax and unwind. Fluttershy followed suit a moment later, quietly sitting beside her on the couch. “Hey Fluttershy,” Spitfire said between muffled coughs and tired wheezing. “How long have you been staying here?” “I, um, kind of left the same time as you.” She spotted Spitfire’s surprised expression and returned it with a look of horror. ”I-I didn’t jump!” she insisted. “Not like you or Rainbow Dash. I...I took a chariot.” “Sensible enough,” Spitfire duly noted, and leaned over, giving Fluttershy a sideways look. “There was an alternative to falling from Cloudsdale to Ponyville? Shocking. I thought everypony had to take a dive every once in a while.” Her gaze lingered over the dusty photo frames sitting atop the fireplace. The photos heralded the images of a happy mare and a stallion, complete with a small yellow pegasus wedged between them in each and every shot. Those were just snapshots from their everyday life, and Spitfire had to wonder—what could’ve happened to split this serene little world of theirs? The only thing her mind answered with was death. “Why?” she questioned aloud. “Why what?” Her question was answered with Fluttershy’s confused response. Spitfire gestured to the picture frames on the fireplace, brow furrowed. “Why did you end up like this?” There was silence as she felt Fluttershy thinking up a reply. And then, without missing a beat, the yellow pegasus spoke, eyes shining with pride as she went on an uncharacteristically long and rushed tangent. “My parents had weak hearts, you know. They couldn’t really do anything that had to do with straining themselves—but they didn’t care. Every day, they would take me for adventure after adventure—we went hiking up mountains, talked to animals, and even explored huge forests with monsters that were scary at first but were very friendly when I got to know them.” The monologue was cut to a screeching halt as Fluttershy took a deep breath to ease the onslaught of hasty words, her voice creeping back to its shy and slow sentences as she finished in her normal tone. “Until finally, their hearts couldn’t take it. They died, and I was sent back to Cloudsdale, where I was born, to stay with my uncle and aunt.” Not expecting her friend’s change in attitude, Spitfire hadn’t realized she was openly gaping until Fluttershy made a noise of unease in the back of her throat. She quickly gathered her wits and said, “Are you happy with your aunt and uncle?” “Oh yes,” Fluttershy softly agreed, as if she hadn’t just spent the last few minutes pouring out her life story. “They’re very nice.” “That’s good,” Spitfire yawned, her eyes fluttering shut. “I hope it stays good.” The couch slightly squeaked on the wooden floorboards as Fluttershy finally settled into a laying position. “Me too,” she whispered. FollowSpitfire ran her hoof through her fiery mane in agitation. She paced around the small proximity of the cloud underneath her feet, struggling to keep an iron grip on her senses. It had been two whole months since Rainbow Dash’s plunge. The memory of it blazed into her skull, every detail down in perfect precision; from the uneasy expression on the other pegasus’ face, to the blue feather that remained rooted to the spot she’d previously stood before plummeting into the unknown depths below. Coach went after her, only to come back empty-handed with a rigid icy cold expression. It had nearly paralyzed her at how brusquely he brushed off the loss, as if one little pegasus didn’t matter. He’d just arrogantly galvanized the students into continuing the test without the lost pony. From what Spitfire later learned about that filly, Rainbow Dash had no parents—no guardians, no aunts, no uncles. An orphan left to die in the harsh world singlehandedly. How could she have let something like that happen? Spitfire stared pensively at the lone blue feather on her hoof with regret. To anypony else outside of the flight academy, that dirty, ragged feather sitting on the end of her hoof meant nothing. The deterioration caused to it in the relentless continuation of time didn’t denote a single thing to any common pony’s eye. A figment of the past; that’s what it was—just a tiny piece of that coarse day for Spitfire to carry on in perpetuity. Nonetheless, she refused to see the truth. Rainbow Dash wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead. No, that glint of determination in those magenta eyes of hers couldn’t have let the orphan pass away that easily. Notnow, not yet. Spitfire forcefully unclenched her jaw and let out a half-hearted laugh. For heaven’s sake, she was just deluding herself. All the pony could do was hope Rainbow’s death was quick and painless. She stomped her hoof angrily. Pacing around all day didn’t seem to help improve her mood at all. “Spitfire—“ Her head snapped up in the direction the sudden voice came from. “—A-are you here for Rainbow Dash too?” Fluttershy, standing on the cloud behind her, appeared as startled as the pegasus facing her when Spitfire’s analyzing eyes came to rest on her delicate frame. The quiver in her lips told Spitfire enough—Fluttershy was suffering as much as her, if not more. It was she who stood by Rainbow Dash, not her. Spitfire had merely raced insufferably ahead of the crowd of students, only hanging out with the best, being as inattentive to everypony else with only the intent of growing stronger and stronger than everypony. In short, Spitfire was completely and utterly oblivious to the supposedly-deceased pegasus’ dire need of help. She had to hand it to her; Rainbow Dash hid it well. Unresponsive, the fiery-maned pony turned away guiltily, unable to hold Fluttershy’s pitying eyes, and instead focused her gaze on her unfamiliar surroundings, drinking in the sights leisurely. In her fit of sulking, Spitfire had failed to notice her cloud being carried away by the rogue gusts of wind, coiling and twisting around the platform she walked upon. She found herself drifting closer and closer to a giant multicolored fountain of liquid rainbows. Almost gloomily, that home probably represented unending happiness at one point. Now, it was just a desolate place of death. Upon closer inspection, Spitfire could faintly make out wilted potted plants sitting on a windowsill in a neat row, crumpled downcast by the brutal force of gravity and lack of turgor pressure. They’d died quite some time ago, if her judgment was correct. Their care seemed to have already been tossed aside long before Rainbow Dash’s death. “’If my parents can’t live, why should they?’” Spitfire mumbled aloud before she managed to catch herself. Rainbow Dash’s reason for leaving the plants to wither probably was somewhat more practical like purely being lazy or too anguished to want to do anything. The garbage Spitfire had spewed on a whim probably did not hold any meaning to the blunt pony anyway. Or so she thought. She felt Fluttershy’s curious look boring a hole in her back and shrugged it off, not deeming it worthy of any altercation. The shy pony made no attempt to confront her about the comment, however, awkwardly keeping her head pointed in another direction. A long and uncomfortable respite passed between them before Fluttershy decided to speak up, motioning at the rainbow fountain. “This is—“ Spitfire interrupted quickly, much to her dismay. “—Rainbow Dash’s home. I can tell, y’know. Something about the rainbows gave it away.” She chuckled darkly at the joke. “Nice decorations.” On the front steps leading to the entrance, Spitfire noticed little gifts dedicated to the cyan pegasus—a pie, a few multicolored flowers, picture frames, pieces of foreign cloth—most of which appeared to be from the students at the academy. A workhat pressed between a cement step and a bouquet of golden daisies stood out among the other presents, mainly because of its bright yellow shade. Spitfire’s face softened as she thought back to the month before, when Coach’s favorite hat was nowhere to be found, never to reappear on his head again. He hadn’t said a word regarding where it had disappeared or why, nor did he comment when confronted by his bolder students about it. Who would have known that old stallion had a softer side to him? Spitfire certainly hadn’t. She pulled the dirt-encrusted blue feather from her fiery mane and tenderly stroked it with her free hoof. Then, carefully placing it atop the hardhat, she didn’t take her eyes off the strikingly familiar yellow object as she said in a low voice, “Coach likes to keep his affection to himself, doesn’t he?” Fluttershy touched the bouquet of flowers beside the hardhat hesitantly. “I-I think so—um, that is, if you’re okay with it.” The wind began to pick up, tossing her pink tufts of hair wildly and wedged itself over her face, discreetly covering her visage and gave her a clever excuse not to meet Spitfire’s probing gaze. “Dash would have loved meeting you...um, personally.” The sudden change of subject sent a jolt of deadly surprise Spitfire’s way. “I have met her.” “Th-that’s not what I meant!” Fluttershy tried not to flinch at her own impulsive outburst. Spitfire recoiled. What exactly did she mean, then? No response. This gave Spitfire some time to think to herself, contemplating what the hay she was supposed to do, now that an academy student was allegedly dead. Her thoughts gradually drifted in the direction of action, from what she was going to do to what would eventually happen. If she stayed, her life would end up normal and continue on wondering if Rainbow Dash was okay and being well cared for. On the other hand, if she went, her life would erratically change; blissful ignorance to knowing the harsh life of the ponies below. Her second option jumped out at her, plaguing her mind with all the thoughts of both a bad and good ending. She thoroughly weighed her options. Everything boiled down to whether she would or wouldn’t leave depending on the events that would soon be set in motion. A few minutes ticked by before Spitfire turned away arrantly and unhurriedly jogged off, extending her wings and taking off to the flowing gales of the winding drafts ahead, much to the shy pony’s astonishment. It was almost cruel, leaving Fluttershy alone like that. Then again, she wasn’t about to turn back, Spitfire thought, her mind burning in temptation—her already-made decision was tucked away warm and cozily right in her chest cavities. Spitfire’s original intent was to pay her respects and leave. Now, however, her purpose had changed—for better, she liked to think. Thanks, Fluttershy. She didn’t even look back when Fluttershy whisper-shouted, “Wait! Wh-where are you going?” “To meet her.” ......................................................... Rainbow Dash bit into the apple boisterously. Delicious. She currently was hidden stealthily in the shadows of the apple tree behind her, the wind whistling gently in her ears. The pegasus couldn’t help reaching down and plucking an apple from the ground hungrily. Living in Sweet Apple Acres for two months had surprisingly failed to make her sick of apples. In fact, it might have even made Dash appreciate apples even more, taking into consideration the affectionate company that came with the scrumptious apple-based meals. “How long do you reckon you’re stayin’ there, RD?” Applejack called out, her voice resounding in the area close by. Said pony swallowed fitfully and tried not to choke on the giant chunk of apple going down her gullet. When she finally made progress in forcing the food down, Rainbow Dash managed a daunting smirk. “How long do you think you’ll spend looking for me?” She teasingly replied. Hide-and-Seek was the best, especially to the sneakiness that came in the form of a blue pegasus. She snaked straight past the sound of slow clopping echoing against the surrounding trees, well aware of the danger she placed herself in. Applejack’s eyes were as sharp as every other one of her senses. But, Rainbow Dash realized soon after, her senses didn’t work so well when provoked. The smirk spread wider across her complexion. She had to admit, though, Applejack’s slightly-reddened face—whether it was from embarrassment, anger, or a mix of both, Rainbow hadn’t the slightest clue—was kind of adorable...in the most non-creepy way possible, of course. “Adorable?” The earth pony appeared next to her, apparently out of nowhere. In the previously-quiet darkness, Rainbow Dash could make out a reddish tint on Applejack’s features. She still couldn’t be sure if it was fury or discomfit showing on her partner’s countenance, but she did know one thing for certain—Rainbow Dash’s face most certainly harbored a blush. She’d said that aloud? “Oh...err...adorably angry, I mean.” Smooth, you just made things twenty percent worse. The pegasus resisted the urge to thump her noggin against the tree shaft behind her. Applejack turned away, clearing her throat. “I found you, by the way.” Pushing aside her embarrassment, Rainbow Dash flippantly glowered at this and gritted her teeth. “Hey! I was caught off-guard!” She didn’t want to admit it, but despite the sturdy way Applejack handled herself, the farmpony had notoriously silent hooves. It was only when motivated did her hoofsteps become louder with each thump of a leg. That included walking normally, too; her stomps only a soft brunt to the earth below. The simple movement was so smooth and natural that Rainbow Dash had wanted to ask her how she learned to keep on her toes in such a manner. She didn’t expect a jovial answer, so her mouth had sensibly stayed shut. “That’s what sore losers say.” Applejack cheerfully slipped back into their lighthearted bantering. “I’m not a sore loser!” Now that Rainbow Dash was fully healed (or so the doctors said), she was free to do whatever neck-breaking activity she desired. There always seemed to be a contest of who was better at doing trivial things—racing, cleaning dishes, pie-making—everything would just be set on the line in the drop of a bucket if one of the two fillies so much as suggested a challenge. That was the roundabout way of enjoying the other’s company. They had their days of sitting at dusk or dawn, relaxing against themselves and drinking a mug of whatever liquid they deemed worthy of the moment. Those were the days when time stopped, as if it was saying “Here’s your tiny moment of peace. Don’t let it go to waste.” Applejack and Rainbow Dash hadn’t had days like that ever since the untimely deaths of their parents. Oddly enough, they hadn’t ever spent any words talking with no references to their pasts at all. It was like an invisible mutual bond was binding them together, knowingly or not. And they relished the peace reigning in their hearts. “Not a sore loser?” Applejack’s eyes glittered as she clasped Rainbow Dash on her shoulder. “Prove it.” Letting go of the tense tone she carried, the farmpony thoughtfully tapped her chin with a playful smile. “Let’s head back. I’m gettin’ mighty hungry.” She didn’t need to say it twice. It. Was. On. “Yeah. Me too.” Rainbow Dash took no time in shooting forward, the wind battering against her mane in the process. Applejack, starting a second too late, followed closely behind. The pegasus risked a few moments to glance behind her and shouted a few taunts. “Still think I’m a sore loser?” “If you aren’t a sore loser, you’re a sore winner!” Applejack taunted back. She took this opportunity to widen her strides fervently. Seeing Applejack hasten her pace, Rainbow Dash did the same. It wasn’t long before they were neck-and-neck. Not one of the two ponies wanted to let up—not to the growing soreness in their legs, not to the wind trying to choke the air out of their lungs, and certainly not to the other filly running next to them. Both were determined to be crowned the victor, fair and square. Dashing through the apple groves, the blur of blue and orange began melding together in a confusing array of colors. Fleet feet, those two had. Breathing in the fresh air, Rainbow Dash managed to deal with dodging the apple trees as she went, huffing every time she had a close encounter with a hard-as-rock trunk. The pegasus could have sworn Applejack was manipulating the trees into getting in her way, with the manner the farmpony smoothly swiveled in and out, as if knowing beforehand where each spiteful tree would be. Her knowing smirk told more than enough. To their mix of dismay and delight, the mad dash to the farmhouse ended with a draw, immediately ending with the two fillies crumpling onto the farmhouse’s soil like pieces of slack paper. Panting wildly, Rainbow Dash grinned, her chest rising and falling rapidly against the damp earth beneath her. She rolled over and met her friend’s eye. “Nopony wins.” Sprawled on the ground next to her, Applejack nodded and returned the smile, her lips stretching all the way to the edges of her exhausted face. It was quite the run. “Yep. Let’s wash up ‘fore Granny Smith decides to come out an’ lecture us a storm.” Rainbow Dash let out a soft sigh, settling into a more comfortable position. “If she’s the storm, I’m the clouds.” Clouds were nice—lazy, disobedient, and free—just like her. Not to mention the softness of the fluffy cotton balls. When would she ever be able to show Applejack exactly how feathery the clouds were? She idly cracked an eye open. “Just let me rest here for two more years,” she mumbled through her weather-beaten hooves. “Come on, Rainbow Cloud.” Applejack staggered to her feet and held out a weary arm to her companion. “I’m just as tired as you, ya know.” The pegasus accepted conscientiously, gripping tightly onto Applejack’s hoof and dragged herself up. Her lips curled a bit as a humorous notion suddenly occurred to her. “And you’re Lightningjack—you won’t ever give a cloud a break.” “Maybe,” Applejack mumbled absently, starting a slow trot toward the waterhose. It was her job to point Rainbow Dash to where she was supposed to be. Admittedly, she too had wanted to lie down and go to sleep herself, except there was something about the laziness her friend sported that made her strive to work harder in ensuring the health and wellbeing of the accident-prone pony. The name Lightning felt a little awry to her, she thought as the darkened sky began to rumble incongruously, like it was accusing her of the double-edged lie she told back there. She was tired, yes, but she’d also glimpsed the bright flash of lightning while looking for her friend during their game of Hide-and-Seek. Pa had once warned her not to play near any trees while a storm was brewing, which was why she hastily wanted to get out into the clearing. Besides, it was kind of awkward, overhearing Rainbow Dash’s sudden remark about her flushed face. A loud boom erupted overhead. That jarred her back to reality. “A thunderstorm’s comin’,” she noted over the sound of clean water being splashed onto her coat. Rainbow Dash spat out the hose when she’d made sure Applejack was spotless. “Cool. Does that mean we’ll get to see lightning in action?” Applejack hesitated, casting an uncertain glance at the likewise clean pony standing a mere few inches away. Were pegasi always this lenient about storms? She supposed they never had to worry about flooding and such, living untroubled atop the great big clouds that rained only upon the unflying ponies. “Y-yeah, I guess,” she answered. Rainbow Dash’s cheery face sobered as she examined Applejack’s facial expression. “Something wrong?” A streak of lightning tore across the sky behind the farmpony, attracting Rainbow Dash’s attention as her eyes drifted to the sky. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Applejack tremble, drawing in a sharp breath. Carefully making sure it seemed like she wasn’t paying attention, Rainbow Dash watched as the farmpony wiped away her tears and sniffled. “No. Just some bad memories.” Bad memories? Rainbow Dash decided not to pry. It might’ve had something to do with her mother, after hearing Applejack murmur “Ma” under her breath just then. Better to ask later, perhaps before heading off to bed. They shared the same room, after all. The pegasus had a feeling the story she would soon be hearing wouldn’t help her already-fitful dreams much. Still, burdens were better when shared, no matter how hypocritical that sounded to Rainbow Dash. Applejack deserved to know what had befallen her parents, what with all of the kindness and tender care she’d exerted the past two months—but not now. First, she decided, she would learn about the events that had troubled Applejack. Rainbow Dash’s jaw became set. ......................................................... “Coach,” Spitfire reasoned, “Don’t you think you should send some sort of locating ponies down there to look for Rainbow?” “It’s a lost cause.” She waited impatiently as Coach paused to scribble something on his worn out clipboard with a lack of interest. Grunting, he looked back down at her. “Rainbow Dart—“ “Rainbow Dash,” Spitfire corrected him offhandedly, narrowing her eyes a bit. He should have already known her name, him being the stallion with the all-knowing clipboard and all. Unless he was pretending to be stupid, that is. Did he already send help when nopony was looking? Maybe, if the rusty yellow workhat isolated on the front steps of Rainbow Dash’s home told her anything. “—would have already died in the impact.” Spitfire stamped her foot. Despite the fact that no sound came from the soft cloud, Coach seemed to get the impression she was making, pointedly moving his clipboard to his side and shifting his frosty attention in her direction. The academy students close by deliberately had their faces the other way, but Spitfire knew they were clinging to every word being spoken. Spitfire growled. "Look here, Coach. I know for a fact that Rainbow isn't dead." She pointed her hoof at a lone yellow pegasus hanging in the far corner of the crowd, slightly leaning away from the other ponies like an outcast, not quite fitting in and not quite out of place. "Fluttershy over there has been crying her eyes out over her friend, and I won't stand for crying ponies! I know Rainbow Dash must have survived somehow!" That was a lie and she knew it. She was as unsure of Rainbow’s fate as Coach himself was. Coach breathed in heavily, sensing the troubled tone mixed in with the anger at the bitter truth in her voice. “Is any of this your business, Spitfire? You know as well as I do that Rainbow Dash had no other acquaintances other than Fluttershy and her deceased parents.” His steady eye remained glued to her, fixedly observing the look of surprise on her face. “Why exactly are you intruding in on Rainbow Dash’s life now of all times?” Finally, Spitfire frowned. “I told you already, didn’t I? I won’t stand for crying ponies.” “But there’s another reason, is there not?” Coach’s cold demeanor melted as he said, in a softer voice, inclining his head toward her, “You feel guilty.” The nearby students had to lean closer and strain their ears to make out his next words. “As do I.” “Huh?” Before Spitfire could say anything else, Coach sharply spun the other way and shot the eavesdropping party a glare. Their response was to take a step back and shiftily look the other way. “There’s nothing we can do.” “But—“ “Listen to what I said,” Coach sighed, wringing his hooves. “Don’t feel guilty. Let it pass and don’t make any hasty decisions unless you have to.” So he knew what her plan was. “I won’t change what I’ve already decided.” “Alright then.” His expression remained unchanged. No sort of restrictions? It was almost too easy to get his authorization to leave. Spitfire was glad she had the forethought to leave a note telling her parents about her “fieldtrip to the ground,” prudently making sure she mentioned it would be a while before her return. Spitfire felt a shiver go through her. “Why are you letting me do this?” “I know you’ll return safely, pegasus slung over your back or not.” Coach’s hopeful gaze wavered. “I can’t go myself—the academy has standards to live up to, and you’ve shown more than enough promise in your skills of flying.” His slight frown deepened. “And it isn’t as if I can stop you. I can’t promise you that you aren’t leaving your life up here.” “Don’t worry. I left a note.” “If you need a ride back, send for a horse-drawn carriage. Tell them Manerick sent you.” He paused. “Are you sure there aren’t any doubts to what you are about to do?”’ Spitfire shook her head. “No.” “And remember, if you don’t come back soon, you’re considered dead.” And with that oh-so-happy thought, she leaped. ......................................................... “Wait!” Coach nonchalantly glanced in the general direction the sudden outburst came from. Soarin’, crouching by his cloud, stared downwards into the blue skies below where his close friend had jumped. “Why did you let her go?!” “Nopony could’ve stopped her,” Coach simply said. And it was true. The fiery intent in her eyes had told him just that. Yes, he was reluctant to let loose a young filly out into the harsh world beneath, but he had realized the inevitable while staring into the face of the determined youth: With or without his consent, she would dive. So he might as well bestow her some help rather than force back her will. “But I could’ve!” Soarin’ shouted. “But did you?” Coach didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to, seeing the sullen expression spreading across Soarin’s’ countenance. “No.” The colt held his head in shame. “I thought so.” Coach smiled humorlessly. “Besides, she looked like she was about to slug me.”
The Flightless FillyRainbow Dash huffed in exhaustion. No matter how many times or how fast she flapped her wings, she still couldn’t manage to fly. Not even a little bit. The cyan-colored filly wasn’t somepony who would relinquish hope very easily, but her dreams of becoming part of the Wonderbolts were dying out quickly. Performing a legendary Sonic Rainboom didn’t look like it would happen to her anytime soon either. Rainbow stopped flapping her wings, her head drooping in shame. She’d seen Spitfire do it before, so why couldn’t she? Even Fluttershy knew how to fly for Celestia’s sake! For a filly that couldn’t fly, living in Cloudsdale, the floating city made of clouds, was an everyday danger to her...especially when she did not have parents to care for her. It wasn’t hard to shuffle around a cloud in order to move to other places, but it always made Rainbow self-conscious when others stared at her like an unwanted outcast. Where are her parents? Why doesn’t that filly have a mare or stallion looking after her? Who’s teaching her how to fly? The whispers went on and on. Truth was, she didn’t have a mother, a father, or even a distant relative to learn from—she'd lost her parents years ago, and nopony had stepped up as her guardian, leaving Rainbow Dash to fend for herself. Nopony was teaching her how to fly except herself and flight school—not that either of those were helping at all. Rainbow Dash’s unruly rainbow mane became even more disorderly as she ruffled it in frustration. Tomorrow was her first flight test and she was the only filly in class that still couldn’t take to the air. She had once thought of dropping out of flight school, but decided against it immediately. She had to learn how to fly, she decided; there was no way around it. “Would you like to...um...let me teach you?” A quiet voice from behind interrupted Rainbow’s fierce thoughts. “I...um, found you here and thought you might need some help...if you want to, of course.” What? Rainbow Dash whipped around, finding a yellow pegasus filly her age standing on a cloud a few feet away from her. She had made sure nopony was around when she’d chosen a place to practice! How didFluttershy of all ponies find her? Fluttershy shot her a nervous grin. Since Rainbow couldn’t afford to embarrass herself in front of a close friend from flight school, she thought of an extremely clever excuse. And by clever, it was really intellectual. As in, it was so smart it could be quoted again and again by ponies all over Equestria or stuck to a golden plaque and hung on a wall to be seen by all. “I, err, have to go somewhere you’re not—uh, I mean, I have to go to the...to the rainbow factory!” The cyan pegasus faked a smile. “Yeah, that’s it! I have to go write a short paragraph about how rainbows are created f-for school!” Unbeknownst to her, she was imitating a certain pony she’d meet in the near future. Fluttershy timidly inched backwards. “O-okay, if you don’t want to...” The tone in her voice made Rainbow Dash think she didn’t believe her. Before flying off leisurely, Fluttershy left her friend with a small piece of confusing advice. “Gliding’s the best way to get started.” While Rainbow watched her leave, she wondered what that meant. Because Fluttershy was the weakest flyer (aside from Rainbow herself) in flight school, she figured those words would have been useless to her anyway. But still... she shook her head. There was no use worrying about it anyhow. Rainbow scooted back home on her cloud without a second thought about it. The amazing cloud fortress that she came back to didn’t seem all that amazing after parents had left. A rainbow trail protruded from the upper dome to the side of her home, and a dazzling colorful liquid oozed out from the end of the trail, making her cloud house look essentially like a giant multicolored fountain. Rainbow Dash hopped off her cloud and landed on the crystal-blue sidewalk that lead to her front door. She struggled not to be overcome by emotion, focusing her eyes downward. She was too cool to blubber like a little filly, too awesome to wimp out like a chump, and too radical to...to... A tear slid down her face. She forced herself to keep walking, ignoring how her vision started to blur. She managed to creak the door open and promptly dashed in, slamming it behind her. “...Fluttershy?” “Um, present.” “Spitfire?” “Here!” “Rainbow Dash?” There was a moment of silence. The coach cleared his throat. “Is Rainbow Dash here?” “HERE!” Rainbow rapidly maneuvered her small cloud to the bigger one where all the other students stood. The coach, who had on a bright yellow workpony hat, stood on another cloud that was a safe distance away from his students. He fixed his eyes on the nearing filly in an unsympathetic manner. “You’re late." “Won’t happen again.” “If you insist on saying that every day, you may as well stop coming, Miss Latepants,” he flatly remarked, causing scattered laughter throughout the crowd of students. A few “Rainbow Crash” comments flew by, and snippets of students continued to chatter amiably as Rainbow’s ears flattened against her head. Spitfire watched this scene in suppressed silence. She had one more extra year of flight training than Rainbow Dash and knew how unkind the coach could be, but he could have at least tried to sound nicer. She may not have known Dash very well, but she’d seen how the coach always seemed to be taking harsher jabs at Rainbow in particular ever since her first day in flight school. Almost as if he gained a personal affinity for her. Spitfire briefly wondered if he even knew about Rainbow Dash’s obvious flight problems. Was it why he was always hard on her? Or was there another motive to it? A colt shifted in his spot next to her, noticing Spitfire’s intense stare at Rainbow. “Did somepony catch your interest, Spitty?” She ignored the obvious jab, replying in a serious manner. “Yeah, Soarin’. The coach. He’s a little too harsh for his own good.” Spitfire grumbled. “Especially around first-year students. Remember that time he made us do ten times the amount of loop-de-hoops we usually were supposed to do just because somepony had his face in a pie?” Soarin’s sly grin turned apologetic. “It wasn’t my fault somepony decided to bring blueberry pie to school!” “That somepony was the coach,” she hissed. “I—“ The coach held up his forehoof, indicating everypony to quiet down. “This is where your first test begins.” He gestured at the six ring-shaped clouds. “You go through the loops as quick as you can, and I will time you. To pass, just simply go through the entire course without skipping anything." He paused to cough. "With that said, form a line in alphabetical order.” Rainbow Dash gulped. There were no clouds underneath the loops to fall onto if the pegasi fell. How was she going to get out of this one? Spitfire, who passed by her, patted a hoof on her shoulder reassuringly and continued on her way. It took Rainbow a moment to register the touch before noticing a fiery-maned pony trotting away from her to the back of the line. Although she had been in flight school for a small period of time, she knew almost all of the students’ names, and the one that had passed by her seemed genuinely concerned. Unfortunately, Rainbow Dash hadn’t the slightest clue what her name was. Fireball? Flame Head? Heatblast? Fluttershy sauntered toward Rainbow, wishing her good luck. Her expression revealed the extreme worry she had for her flightless friend. She too must have noticed the lack of safety nets. “W-what about...um...” “Telling a coach who barely even pays attention that I can’t fly? Fluttershy, we both have been here for a little over half a year, and yet I still can’t even get my hooves in the air for over five seconds before hitting the floor while you still fly about the same! But...” Rainbow Dash waved a dismissive hoof in the air. “I’ll just try passing the test. No big deal. I can manage.” Or so she thought. She had been avoiding flying in public, but she’d bet all her bits everypony but the coach knew. Fluttershy didn’t seem surprised at her submissive behavior. “Oh, um...glide.” Then she walked to the F section of the line without another word. “Glide...?” Rainbow’s thoughts shifted back to the day before. Gliding. It was to spread out your wings and let the wind flow through you, but it was only used when pegasi...fell. Oh. Did Fluttershy really think she’d—no. Rainbow shook her head wildly, eliciting curious stares from ponies standing behind her. She had said gliding was the best way to start, not end, as in not falling, but beginning her flight. Besides—Rainbow Dash shrugged—Fluttershy probably didn’t really mean anything by the harmless advice. She was probably reading into it too much. She watched in amazement (and maybe some jealousy) as the ponies in front preformed several loop-de-hoops while passing through the cloud loops in numerous quick thrusts. Some ponies flew fast, some slow, some medium, and some as quick as lightning. The coach observed with a neutral expression, scribbling on his clipboard every time a filly completed the course. And then it was Rainbow’s turn to go. She tentatively stepped up to the edge of the cloud, trying not to look down. Instead, she focused on the first loop-de-hoop hovering a few feet in front of her. Seeing her hesitance, the coach impatiently waved his hoof for her to begin. She suddenly wasn’t so sure about toughing the test out. “Err—“ “What are you waiting for, Rainbow Crash?” A brown-coated colt standing in the back jeered, interrupting her. “Still think you can join the Wonderbolts?” “I-I...” Rainbow felt her anger returning. Her gaze hardened when she spotted Fluttershy, who had already gone through the test, cowering at the end of the line with her hooves over her eyes. Then she took a deep breath. “Just ignore him!” The fiery-maned pony called out, slamming her hoof on his head. Soarin’ joined in, giving him a stern look. “Shut up, Dumbbell.” “Ow! Since when were you two allowed to butt in?” He interjected, holding a hoof to his sore head. “Since we were more experienced than you,” they simultaneously responded in a clipped tone. Pulling the ‘higher rank than you’ card was something Soarin’ and Spitfire didn’t normally do, but they seemed to have an agreement at the moment. Bullies weren't to be tolerated. “Nopony is allowed to interrupt training except the coach.” Coach said nothing. He only nodded his head a tiny fraction in approval at his two prized students. There was a specific reason for his making them both team leaders--their admirable agility, astounding strength, and high morals. Coach's mouth slightly curled upwards, then he turned to the filly he was supposed to be watching. Instead, his eyes rested on the spot she used to be standing at. She wasn’t there. Alarmed, the coach abruptly threw down his clipboard and flew straight down, holding on to his cap to ensure it would stay on. He choked on the winds biting at his throat, threatening to steal his oxygen. There was no rainbow-maned filly in sight. No...His expression turned gloomy. He tried not to let his overwhelming emotions take him as a hazy memory seeped through. Not again. The coach frantically smashed through clouds looking for the lost filly. His lungs burned, sapping at his strength. It felt like hours before the coach ascended back into Cloudsdale grounds. His neutral face returned. He refused to give in to a sigh. Why was he so worked up over a filly whose name he barely remembered anyway? It didn’t take away the fact that it was his fault for not paying attention to the trainee, though. Spitfire’s eyebrows knitted together when she didn’t see Rainbow with the coach. The students looked expectantly at the coach for his final verdict as he picked up his clipboard in a timely manner, slowly fixing his cap. When he finally turned his attention to the fillies, he eloquently said nothing but “continue.” The test must go on. Rainbow Dash felt herself being knocked about by the highspeed winds. Unable to catch any clouds to hold on to, she struggled to breathe, but instead her oxygen escaped from her open muzzle. Barely conscious, a sad frown settled on her face as she realized her dreams of becoming a Wonderbolt and performing a Sonic Rainboom were never going to happen. She closed her eyes and fell in resignation, knowing how much of a failure in life she was. Suddenly, she was jolted by a certain word in her mind, a word that had been repeatedly said by Fluttershy. No, she wasn’t a failure, and she was going to prove it. She may have gotten a zero on the test, but it didn’t really matter to her anyway. Turns out she was prepared for this! Rainbow Dash is awesome. She spread out her cyan wings. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash felt the air around her soften. The ground was no longer rushing up to meet her. She was fly—no, not flying. She was gliding. ”Glide,” she breathed with the tiny amount of oxygen she had left. The brief moment of excitement drained from her face as she lost consciousness, and Rainbow fell the rest of the way down, landing on the thick branch of an apple tree.
FarmponyApplejack was having an excellent morning. The orange filly had finished applebucking earlier than usual, and that prompted Big McIntosh to send her off to relax for the rest of the day. There was nothing else she felt like doing except kicking back and sleeping in the apple orchards under her favorite tree, who she graciously named Bloomberg. Applejack trotted briskly in the direction of Bloomberg with a broad grin. In a few months’ time, she would be having a better life in Manehattan working under her Aunt and Uncle Orange. The farmpony would miss her old life in Sweet Apple Acres, but maybe, she thought, it might be worth it in the end. Change was good, right? Back in the farmhouse, she knew Granny Smith was still quaintly moving about on her rocking chair, with little Apple Bloom napping on the old mare’s lap. Foals tended to be lethargic in the afternoon, Applejack noted. Big McIntosh was probably still tending to his duties in the fields. Being the only pony in the family that was strong enough to till the fields with a plow may have been difficult, but she knew her big brother didn’t mind as long as it helped his family. Applejack had once attempted to assist him by pulling the machinery in his place; however, she had instead ended up being suspended in the air like an upside down turtle, the plow obviously outweighing her, sheepishly requiring Big McIntosh to help her down. He, of course, took the opportunity to scold his little sister about the proper way of doing it—and failed when he was not able to keep a straight face at how silly she looked, flailing around like a drowning pony. He had to cut off his own small speech and shook his head with a small smile, telling her that she’d be able to do it when she was a little older. He then proceeded to grab the machinery and pull it down to where her hooves touched the ground again. Since that incident, Applejack hadn’t touched the plow at all. Still, it never stopped her from hearing Big McIntosh’s occasional low laughter when he harnessed the leather straps onto his solid body to plow the crops. Underneath the shade of her chosen tree, she felt like a million bits. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and Applejack preferred it that way. She sighed in content, as all was right in the great wide world of Equestria—or, at least, in the Apple family. With nothing to be concerned about, the orange pony leaned back against the tree and peacefully dozed off, the fresh scent of apples pulling her further and further into relaxation. Tranquility and peacefulness reigned with a mighty fist in Sweet Apple Acres that morning. The robust style of which the humble Apple family lived frequently called for this type of atmosphere, as the three of them rarely had company other than each other. It was kind of lonesome—in a way. Applejack and Big McIntosh took pleasure in hanging around their family, but it didn’t mean they didn’t have their own way of spending time with other ponies. And that way was via sales. Whenever Applejack tagged along with her big brother McIntosh out to sell apples, there were typically ponies walking about and chattering genially in the shopping square. When ponies stopped by their apple stand, some spoke to her instead when they realized Big Mac wouldn’t say anything more than “Eeyup” or “Nope.” His shy, stout demeanor earned him lots of crushes and respect from the passersby, while Applejack earned the title of “Suave Seller.” “Buy some apples!” She would call energetically, earning an amused smile from the red earth pony next to her. Without her, he knew, ponies wouldn’t be half as interested in buying apples as they were when she was around. “We’ve got Golden Delicious apples, Red Delicious apples, Gala apples, and McIntoshapples!” An unconscious smile found its way onto the filly’s face as she shifted in her sleep. THUMP! Applejack’s eyes snapped open. In a fit of half-drowsiness, she managed to stand up. “What in—” She yawned and rubbed the sleepiness out of her system. “...tarnation?” Applejack inquisitively looked up in the direction the noise came from. The farmpony’s previous annoyance at being abruptly roused from her slumber subsided as soon as she spotted the object of her displeasure. Resting on one of Bloomberg’s branches was an unknown cyan pegasus, her alluring rainbow mane something Applejack had never seen before. The mysterious pony seemed to be asleep, curled up in a sideways fetal position. However, Applejack’s fascination turned to apprehension when she noticed faint wounds on the filly’s stomach. She contemplated bucking the tree to bring the pony to ground, but it seemed too cruel to do it without knowing exactly how injured the cyan pony was. She tapped on the tree lightly with her forehoof. “Hey.” No response. The jagged raising and falling of the pony’s chest indicated she wasn’t dead—Applejack knew that for sure. The farmpony may have not been the brightest tool in the shed, but she knew how to recognize when it was an emergency, especially with the ragged breaths coming from the newcomer. Her heart sank as she realized reaching that particular branch without disturbing the other pony would be out of her power. Unless.... She vigilantly took her hoof off the tree and crept away. When the filly was sure she was far enough to not be heard by the mystery pony, she dashed frantically toward the fields where Big Mac was working, not giving a second glance at the mud that splashed unflatteringly on her coat in the process. She galloped with a vengeance, ignoring the lengthy dirt path that lead to the fields. Instead, the earth pony cut right through the apple orchards, careful not to crash into the trees that blocked her way. The crisp, cool morning air felt like nothing as Applejack’s serene world was shattered in two, her lungs threatening to burn to a crisp. There wasn’t the slightest chance of stopping—somepony needed Applejack’s help, and she was going to do whatever it took to deliver help as fast as possible. As she leapt over the whitewashed fence that divided the fields and the orchards, she yelled, “BIG MAC!” The red pony stopped in his tracks, pausing his plowing. “AJ?” A quick glance at his little sister was enough to make him quickly shed the equipment that he was towing. He pulled the harness from around the length of his body and yanked it off in a disorderly and swift manner. Although he was almost finished with his current task, he always looked upon his little sister in the highest regard and often marveled at her constant honesty —albeit in silence—so he automatically assumed whatever she was interrupting him with must have been very important to her. His brow furrowed in concern as he trotted to meet her halfway. He said nothing about the mud on her coat—he had mud on his too; it wasn’t uncommon for farmponies to attract dirt—as she hurriedly summed up the circumstances of which had troubled her in as few sentences as possible. “...An’ that’s why I need your help!” She finished. Big Mac nodded and replied with a quick eeyup. He then began his vigorous walk to Bloomberg, Applejack taking the lead with an even faster jog. Everything was swell until Applejack dizzily tripped and fell on the ground a few meters later. “You should jus’ pace yourself when runnin’, Applejack.” Big McIntosh grabbed her hoof and pulled her up with a reassuring smile. What surprised him the most was of the fact that Applejack had already known the pacing rule, especially since she was such a hardworking filly. Her benevolence, he supposed, was what kept her going in full force. “But I’m glad ya ran here in the first place. I know how ya always want to do things yourself.” Big McIntosh’s smile never left his face, though his eyebrows stitched together in concern at the amount of effort Applejack was outputting for somepony she barely knew. In fact, the last time he had ever seen her that frazzled was when Granny Smith broke her hip and was rushed to the hospital. The mysterious pony’s injuries must have been a gruesome sight if Applejack was compelled to push herself that hard. While he watched her recover, his thoughtful expression changed to a determined one as an idea wormed its way into his mind. “Mac! We’re wastin’ time! I wouldn’t have called for help if I didn’t need it!” Applejack erupted into a fit of coughing as she irritably raced ahead. Her legs felt extremely weary as she glanced back at her big brother, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Wouldn’t I know it.” He charged ahead, hauling his surprisingly lightweight sister onto his back. His stride didn’t slow down one bit as he rapidly continued the race to Bloomberg, Applejack clinging tightly onto his neck. His coat became even muddier than it was before...not that he cared in the slightest. “Thank you!” Applejack gratefully shouted over the clopping of his hooves. Instead of utilizing the simple “eeyup” he always would have replied with, Big Mac smiled. “Anything for family.” He gallantly marched onwards, retracing Applejack's hoofprints.
PaAs Rainbow Dash’s consciousness gradually returned, she felt achy all around. Even though a thick fog still clouded her thoughts, all she could register was pain. Fiery, stinging, pain. A crude wince appeared on her features as her forehoof indistinctively brushed against her stomach—the main source of her problem. Although a whole lot of pain was heaped on her, she didn’t feel as uncomfortable as she would have figured. No familiar gusts of wind breezing through the air, no soft clouds beneath her, and—was that a blanket over her? What in the hay? She clumsily rolled out of bed in a flash. A grimace graced her face as pain shot up her sides the moment her hooves touched the wooden surface of the floorboards. She wearily glanced back at the previously tidy bed. It seemed to be welcoming her back, radiating the warmth and softness that she was currently lacking. The tangled up green blanket lay on the ground nearby, tossed by her negligence. She scrutinized it and curiously considered the possibility of picking it up, getting back to sleep, and pretending that scene never happened. A second passed before she relented and jumped on the empty bed. The bandage wrapped around her midsection pulsed as she strained to lug the blanket onto the bed. Turns out it was more difficult than expected. The blanket felt as if it was getting heavier and heavier with every heave and ho. After a few minutes of pulling and straining, she managed to settle back into her prior position. Relaxation washed over her immediately. From her spot on the bed, Rainbow gazed inquiringly at the picture frames hanging on the far side of the wall. All of them, filled with a myriad of ponies. Even Rainbow herself didn’t think she could possibly count the sheer number of them. In a most of the photos, ponies smiled and laughed happily, as if just being with each other deigned them the happiest they could ever be. Even a few of them drenched in mud radiated happiness, their lips drawn out into a huge grin. Once, she herself thought that very same way. She absentmindedly scoffed. Look where that upbeat thinking got her. Funny how being orphanized left her mind to conjure up pessimistic thoughts, in contrast to the shallow inklings of an optimistic younger foal. Really, she presumed herself a realist, negativity aside.Though she could never admit how often her thoughts drifted to dying somewhere on an empty cloud, letting herself being drowned in the cynical depths of her mind. What category did she fall in anyway? Realimism? These ponies didn’t look rich, or even complex in any manner. None of them exuded royalty in any way, but those ponies appeared contented nonetheless. They appeared more so happier than she herself could ever be. That, Rainbow concluded, meant the owner of that room was either a psychotic serial killer looking at the many ponies she could slaughter... or, they were pictures of friends and family. Rainbow shrugged dismissively. It was probably more of the former anyway. One picture at the very end of the row caught her eye. It looked the most worn, as if it was taken off and positioned back on the wall constantly. It also had the least amount of earth dusted on its edges than the rest of the frames. Rainbow rubbed her chin. Why? Was it precious? She had the urge to get up to have a closer look at it. Rainbow started to get up until she suddenly bent in a heap of hurt, the pain in her abdomen increasing by tenfold. She clutched the bandaged midsection painstakingly and gritted her teeth. In an attempt to distract herself, Rainbow placed her attention back on the picture hanging on the wall. Was there was something behind the frame itself? Hmm. What if—“Augh!” Rainbow couldn’t resist letting out a soft howl and doubled over as the pain reached its peak. She felt tears prickle at the edges of her vision and forced them back. Feeling nauseated, blood seemed to gather at the back of her throat before Rainbow swallowed. The taste revolted her, bile burning in the pit of her stomach. If that was how vamponies ate daily, then may Celestia sooner rain lightning bolts on her than Rainbow ever turning into a bloodsucker like that. She shuddered when the pain abruptly subsided. Whew, she managed to not spit blood all over the bed sheets. Awesome. A brittle smile tugged at her lips. Breathing faintly, Rainbow delicately craned her neck toward the window behind her. No use wondering what the picture frame mystery was if it was currently unsolvable. Dusk was beginning to appear, and her view of the outside world was filled with endless amounts of exquisite apple trees. It was enough to make her impressed, looking bewilderedly at just the quantity of that one fruit. Thinking back to the picture frames on the wall, it made her wonder if there were the same amount of apples as her caretaker had company. All around were apples, apples, and more apples. Juicy, succulent, luscious, mouthwatering apples.... Great, now I’m hungry. Rainbow haughtily reprimanded herself for thinking of food. As if in response, her stomach growled. She grunted. Even her stomach was a smartass. Although the apple groves had gained most of her attention, it wasn’t the only thing she saw from the window. In the far left of the orchard, she could see a fence separating the orchards from the freshly plowed fields. The mounds of soil spread across the field sparkled in the afternoon sun. Rainbow wasn’t used to seeing those brown specks her parents called “dirt,” as she primarily lived in Cloudsdale, but she knew when to recognize it. There were a few potted plants around Fluttershy’s home, in addition to seeing this “dirt” during the times she visited Ponyville with her parents. That was about all she knew in relation to the matter, though. She silently hoofed the window with a deep scowl. Memories of the past had a way of getting her schmaltzy side out, and she was determined to push any of that useless sentimentality out—even if it required force. The glower faded as Rainbow Dash eyed an orange-coated young filly her age speaking to an older colt out in the fields. His coat, a lush crimson color, was outshined by the younger filly’s luxuriant brilliant orange coat, despite being partially covered in dirt. Her pale golden mane, which was tied up in a quick pony tail, shined vibrantly in the setting sun’s rays. In said pony’s eyes, Rainbow observed a spark of worry and concern, complete with the upsetting frown of a pony in distress. Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow at this. She watched the two carefully, her muscles tensing up involuntarily as continued to see the orange pony’s array of expressions. The red colt didn’t say much, letting the filly do most of the talking. Sometimes he would speak up and invoke a more lighthearted conversation, but it never seemed to last. The orange pony obviously appeared very agonized about something—or somepony that the topic couldn’t be dropped easily. “What is it?” Rainbow murmured to herself as she lifted her hoof from the window. .......................................... “...I jus’ can’t help worryin’, Big Mac.” Applejack clutched the white fence post in her hooves. “Maybe we should check to see how she’s doin’. Maybe she’s in even more pain than we last saw her.” She frantically gestured to the farmhouse with her hoof. “Maybe she’s chokin’ on her own blood right now! Maybe she’s already gone to the other side! Maybe—“ “AJ, relax.” Big Mac placed a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. This sparked a tinge of sadness in him that scratched the surface of the gruesome past they both experienced long—or maybe not so long—ago. He wasn’t sure how long ago that tragedy occurred, but it had caused an irreparable damage to their hearts. It would have broken their spirits permanently too, beyond any sort of repair, had Granny Smith not been there to patch things up. He sighed inwardly. The last time a pony on their farm was hurt ended in death. And that hurt pony wasn’t just some stranger—it was their father. He was a kind, stalwart, robust stallion, his morals high and his honesty challenged even the most truthful of ponies. The way he’d died just wasn’t right—no, it was more than ‘not right,’ it was plain unfair. His mother’s death wasn’t any better, she being ripped from the jaws of life like a ragdoll. It was a gruesome sight indeed. A shadow of a haunted expression passed through Big McIntosh’s features before settling on a slightly content expression. “Maybe she’d appreciate her caretaker not bein’ so gloomy. Now where’s that suave seller I used to know?” She sighed and vaguely pawed circles in the ground beneath her. “I guess you’re right.” “There ya go.” He shot her a sympathetic smile before proceeding to draw a big triangle over her circles, gently pushing aside her forehooves. This elicited a “hey!” followed by a laugh from his sister. Big McIntosh’s smile turned into a smirk.“How ‘bout makin’ apple pie for our guest instead ‘a frettin’?” Taking this as a queue, Applejack leapt on his back, shouting, “On ho, horse!” Because he was done with all of his chores for the day and everything was (hopefully) put away, Big Mac decided to do the most brotherly thing he could think of at the moment. He valiantly stood on his hind legs, whinnied, and nobly galloped toward the farmhouse. Applejack had to hug the colt’s neck for dear life as this happened, but the she managed to grin in excitement rather than terror. She gripped an imaginary Stetson hat on her head. “Yeehaw!” The ride was less than smooth to Applejack. Clop, clop, clop, went her big brother’s hooves on the dirt as he raced along the path. It almost felt like a rhythmic melody, forever repeating over and over. The wind flew past their manes and the setting sun dramatically shined behind them. Applejack could practically imagine the picturesque scene they were making. Big Mac skidded to a halt as he reached the farmhouse. He nonchalantly pushed through the front door...and suddenly met eyes with Granny Smith herself. Applejack swallowed thickly as the old mare’s eyes narrowed a fraction at the mud speckling her grandchildren’s coats. Baby Apple Bloom innocently watched this scene from Granny Smith’s lap in blissful ignorance, not noticing the displeasure flashing in her current caretaker’s eyes. A faint bead of sweat rolled down Big McIntosh’s forehead. They were definitely treading on dangerous grounds. Before anypony could argue, the oldest sibling hastily backed up against the entrance and used it to exit. As soon as they were met with the cool and clear winds of the outside world, Applejack shot off of Big Mac’s broad back and bounded for the water hose at the farmhouse’s rear. Her brother trailed behind with a panicked expression that probably reflected her own. They turned sharply and reached their destination. A drippy hose hung on the edge of the roof like a snake, winding around a conveniently placed hook. There really wasn’t anything else around that part of their home other than a broken down radiator and a dirty towel. The ground beneath the siblings felt like mush, though that was to be expected. The last time they’d forgotten to wash up before heading inside their humble home was, well, a long time ago. The tongue-lashing they had received then wasn’t something that could be forgotten easily and the tongue-lashing they would most likely get as soon as they returned wouldn’t likely be forgotten easily either. A quick turn of the knob primed the water to gush out through the nozzle clutched in Applejack’s hooves. She was only able to slightly wet her mane before it slipped from her grasp and landed onto the dirt below. The farmpony was only able to clumsily pick at the hose in a bad attempt to grab it. Growling, she dove on the ground and attempted a few more times—failing each time. Next to her, Big Mac’s terror was replaced by a humorous demeanor, watching his little sister heatedly thrashing about in the mud. Was she trying to get dirtier or get cleaner? When he said this out loud, an irritated Applejack paused to face him. The smile drained from Big Mac’s face at the seriousness in her glare. If eyes could kill, he was pretty sure he would have long been dead. He nervously stepped backwards, his hooves squishing the mud beneath him wetly. On a normal day, his little sister would have shrugged off his teasing and laughed along with him, but, he realized, that day wasn’t a normal one. Applejack had been filled to the brim with hurt and worry all day, and yet he’d been oblivious to the lingering feelings she had when Big Mac thought his consoling had finally worked. Consarn it. He wanted to slam his hoof on the ground, to grab hold of his precious younger sister and hug the stress out of her. To ease her broken mind of the deaths that seemed to haunt her in the present. But the world didn’t work that way. It was as if a massive dam broke somewhere in Applejack’s strong mind, all of her grief pouring out like a waterfall and turning into torrents of rage. A roar erupted from the little filly before she rocketed into her big brother and knocked the wind out of him. Abandoned, the hose began to whip around wildly, splashing the two siblings as they tumbled about in the mud. Big Mac was immediately met with a flurry of jabs that hurt him both physically and mentally. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as time slowed. Seeing his normally good-tempered sister like this made his heart sink. He made no attempt to parry or block any of the oncoming punches, simply relenting and letting her anger flow right at him. Although it didn’t look that way, he understood her current emotions. It disconcerted him how easily he dismissed her hidden bile, but he knew that pent up anger and frustration had to eventually release if it got too much to handle. Besides, it was his fault for prodding at her open wound like a bumbling idiot. Yes, even he reacted that same way the first time he’d seen a severely injured pony. His eyes snapped shut as a fleeting memory managed to seep into his thoughts. .......................................... Big Mac looked uncertainly at the sharp spear in his hooves. “Pa, maybe this ain’t such a great idea.” His eyes shifted to the grown stallion in front. The stallion had his back to him, but Big Mac was sure his face was grim, lips set in a thin line to watch for any predators nearby. In the dark, Big Mac could only make out the rough outlines of the scraggly trees surrounding the pair. He gulped. Whatever skills his father had in being able to distinguish friend from foe in the shadowy darkness of the Everfree Forest would come in handy. His hooves ached something awful, continuously rapping tumultuously on the unsteady ground underneath him. They had been walking around for hours. “Them timberwolves...” And to make things worse, he had a sneaking suspicion something was following them. Pa’s firm gaze flickered behind him. “Don’t worry, Mac. We’ll be all right.” As an afterthought, he reached for the spare lance slung over his side and whipped it out with his teeth. The hairs on his body bristled dangerously. “We’re only goin’ to a friend’s home to get medicine for...“ He trailed off as something rustled in the trees around them. His solid frame stiffened. “Get back!” What came next wasn’t something Big Mac sought to remember. The timberwolves finally closed in, pouncing on their prey—his father—with their jaws wide open to tear the flesh and bones away, easily pinning his father down. Young and foolish he was at that time, there wasn’t anything he could do as he watched in horror while his father fought the battle himself. He couldn’t see much in the dim, shady light, and was only able to make out a few flashes of movement. There was the furious sound of kicking, punching, and stabbing as a few of the timberwolves yelped in pain. The wolves defeated by Pa exploded into mounds of regular old firewood. The remaining wooden wolves wouldn’t back down, though. Slowly, the beaten firewood began to meld back together, into a lone, bigger shape. As if pulled by magic, the lingering timberwolves came apart and meshed itself into the mold too. Big Mac stood in silence, watching the immense growth in terrified fascination. Big Mac’s spear, which had dropped from his clutches in the skirmish, hung about on the ground with no master with a desire to pick it back up. Pa breathed heavily as he stumbled to his feet. “Mac,” he growled, “Let’s go.” The faint green glow emitting from the moving timber enabled Big Mac to make out his surroundings. He saw the nearest trees splattered with the red tint that could have only come from his father. The ground was the same way—speckled with the crimson dampness that Big Mac had come to fear. Wood couldn’t bleed. The young stallion suddenly felt sick to his stomach. As much as he desired to hurl, he kept it back. The stomach-turning smell of rotten flesh overwhelmed his senses as he staggered forward to his father. “Pa...” Big Mac managed to choke out. He touched his father’s side softly. “You’re hurt.” There was an unmistakable wince from Pa. When Big Mac removed his arm, he discovered a thick, warm liquid drenching his hoof. Blood. He didn’t even have time to cry out before a loud, drawn-out, piercing roar drowned out any sort of sound. “Let’s go,” Pa repeated with more force than before. Then it dawned on him. They would never make it to their destination. The only options were to turn back or go forward. Either way, the medicine they sorely needed would remain undelivered to the pony who needed it the most—his mother. Pa seemed to be thinking the same thing. Next to him, his father’s breathing turned shallow. Blood dripping from his coat, his mind became set. Pa roared fiercely, matching the tone of the giant timberwolf they faced. .......................................... Big Mac let out a small yelp of shock as his eyes cracked open. “Say sorry!” Applejack ferociously snarled. She was small, but her muscled arms made up for it as she gave his chest one last lashing. She appeared angry, but Big Mac could see the tears pouring down her face. It disguised well against the water raining down on them like a storm. Her anger was just a façade, he realized. The past hurt her as much as it hurt him, and he could never claim feeling more trodden than her, who actually tried to help rather than standing miserably and watching as a loved one fought for their lives. Back pressed against the mud, Big Mac was silent. He couldn’t look into the eyes of the pony on top of him, the one that pinned him to the ground. He already knew what would be in them—sorrow no foal that young should have, the piercing green eyes that had the mark of a deep, intangible wound. He gave a large sob and wrapped his arms around her, pulling Applejack closer. The tears began to spill. He felt wretched. “I’m sorry.” Applejack stiffened in surprise at the sudden sincerity. She hadn’t expected him to apologize in that manner. He was lenient, to say the most. His pride drove him, just like her pride drove her. Apologizing never came easy for either of them. A few seconds passed until she finally sighed. That anger wasn’t really pointed at him, despite him being the trigger. She hadn’t snapped before, but she’d already known what would happen if her fury was released. The filly had pounced on her own brother—something her better judgment would argue against. Then again, her mind felt cloudy and foggy in the spur of the moment. All Applejack was able to think about was how the newcomer could very well end up like her mother, and Big Mac had the nerve to joke around. One day she would apologize...though, at the moment, it felt better to just bury her face in her brother’s warm embrace and cry along with him. Time passed them by, and the sky soon became as dark as the Everfree Forest. It wasn’t long before the two of them had to get to their feet and wipe any feeble tears away. After all, moping eternally wouldn’t get them anywhere. The pair silently hosed themselves off. Big Mac held the nozzle in his teeth, spraying any stray dirt that lingered on his sister’s coat. Applejack did the same when it was her turn to clean her brother’s coat. Smoothly taking the hose away from him, she showered his hide until it gleamed. A nice, subtle apology suited her better anyway. As they trotted back, Applejack and Big Mac felt better than ever since the death of their parents. The pressure that frequently weighted them down felt as light as a feather, and if there was any bond between them then, it was most likely stronger than steel now. Applejack cheerfully turned to the red pony next of her. “How ‘bout that pie?” “Eeyup.” He flashed her a smile. .......................................... Carrying a lukewarm plate of apple pie, Applejack pleasantly drifted into her room—where her mysterious pony lay. Her rise in mood wasn’t surprising, given that fact that she’d immediately checked on the cyan pony when she finally reached the inside of the farmhouse to find that the dozing pony was okay. Granny Smith had also conspicuously refrained from lecturing up a storm during the siblings’ arrival. With a quirked eyebrow, she noticed the change in their step, from a slightly held back happy disposition to an all-out blissful one. Granny Smith didn’t ask a single mumbling question about the how or why. The old mare was simply content with the outcome, though she had a sneaking suspicion concerning what happened out there, judging by the welt on Big McIntosh’s cheek. Applejack sure had a rather fine left hook, she mused to herself. Rainbow Dash’s eyes fluttered open when she smelled the delicious pie. It wafted into her nostrils and surreptitiously woke her up. Her traitorous stomach growled eagerly. The orange earth pony standing in the doorway laughed mirthfully. “Heh, I reckon you must be hungry.” She stepped closer to the bed. Rainbow’s face lit up as she recognized the pony from the fields. Thinking back to how troubled the orange pony looked before, there wasn’t a trace of that particular distress anywhere up close. The previous unhappiness that Rainbow had witnessed in the afternoon didn’t seem to be on the other pony’s features anymore, a lazy sort of smile gracing her face instead. “I’m Applejack. Nice to meet ya,” she drawled. “I’m Rain—ah!” As she struggled to sit up, the strain on her abdomen caused the pain to reappear. Rainbow Dash bit back a curse while the second wave of pain rippled through her system. Applejack gently pushed her down to the position she was in before. “Whoa there, partner.” Applejack set the sweet-smelling pie on the table next to her bedside and settled down on the floor. “No need to hurt yourself just to eat,” the farmpony said softly. She tenderly kept her expression even. “The pie ain’t even completely cool yet.” Rainbow cleared her throat uncertainly. “I’m Rainbow Dash.” “Rainbow Dash, huh?” Applejack’s gaze flashed to the other pony’s mane. “I’d say it fits.” An empty silence ensued whereas Rainbow Dash pondered what to reply with. She, however, didn’t have to think any further when the orange filly opened her mouth to ask the most obvious question. “How’d you end up here?” She winced at the bluntness of it. Not that Applejack sounded harsh, but she was certainly one to get to the point pretty quickly. “I fell—from Cloudsdale, I mean.” Rainbow Dash heaved a sigh. “When I was taking my first flight test, I failed and accidentally threw myself down here.” “You can’t fly?” Applejack asked, not even batting a doubtful eye at the allegation of “accidentally throwing” herself thousands of feet downwards. She sounded genuinely interested; unlike many of the bullies she’d faced back home. Rainbow shook her head. “No? Guess we’ll have to remedy that.” An earth pony teaching a pegasus how to fly? The very idea was preposterous, the two fillies knew, but it was a warming one nonetheless. It was like suggesting drinking out of an acid bowl—no one in their right mind would put forward something like it. And yet there was sincerity in Applejack’s eyes that insinuated the seriousness in her offer. She clearly wasn’t crazy and there wasn’t an evil gleam in her eyes, so why not? After Rainbow accepted reliantly, the conversation took a turn into a more neutral one. How are you feeling? Is there anything else you need? How’s Cloudsdale? These questions were answered promptly, and then Applejack moved to any topics that could be spoken about. What are rainbows made of? What do you do when a thunderstorm appears? Is the sky any bluer up there than down here? Do you celebrate Nightmare Night too? What Rainbow Dash noticed, though, was that the subject never switched to her previous caretakers—her parents—and she was everlastingly grateful for that. It felt like a tender subject to breach. Unknowingly, the pegasus never realized how scorching hot the issue was for the farmpony sitting near her as well. Applejack wasn’t completely sure she’d be able to hide her grief at the mention of “parents” at the moment, after just recovering from a breakdown herself. She’d spoken warmly about her brother, her granny, and even her dog Winona, but there wasn’t a single remark about her own parents. Rainbow Dash found herself enjoying every word shared between them, easily indulging herself into the undemanding lull of the chat, which was why she felt a pang of disappointment when the discussion abruptly reeled to a halt. Was she warming up to the new stranger? Yep. To Rainbow, that wasn’t really a bad thing. Timid Fluttershy had hardly kept her attention for very long, speaking only when necessary and barely holding up her side of the conversation when spoken to. “You should eat,” Applejack said, pointedly glancing at the pie on the table. “It ought to be cool by now.” Helplessly stretching her arms for it, Rainbow continued to hold the farmpony’s gaze and casted a mockingly pathetic look at her. To her satisfaction, Applejack scowled. “Cute.” Then she cracked a conceding smile and stood up to leave the room. Moments later, she reappeared with a spoon. Rainbow’s eyes widened when she grasped her intent and narrowed her lips, crossing her arms defiantly. “You are not spoonfeeding me.” “You asked for it.” Applejack smirked and took a dollop of pie, raising it high enough to be level with her patient’s jawline. “No I didn’t!” And so, that was the spark of a new friendship—or rivalry. Maybe both.
Start“Pa died.” That was all the young colt could say when he returned from the dark depths of the Everfree Forest. Big McIntosh’s coat, bloodied and matted, dripped a trail of oozing red liquid behind him as he stepped into view. The shameful part? None of the blood belonged to him. Applejack regarded him grimly from the front porch and watched as he emerged out of the apple groves. Sitting idly on her hindquarters, she said nothing and only moved to motion him over with a flourish. At her command, Mac obeyed willingly, dragging his exhausted body toward her. Once he was a hare’s breadth away, Big Mac stopped just short of the deck. Even through his clouded thoughts, he could practically hear Granny Smith lecturing his etiquette in his head, going on and on for hours about not tracking mud—or blood, as it was—onto the terrace. Boy, she would have a fit, complaining how grueling it was to wash out that noticeable stench and appearance off the wood’s usual buff surface. His effort to dish out a small smile nearly made him topple to the ground had he not been staring intently into Applejack’s countenance to watch her reaction to the news. Instead of a smile, the edges of his lips continued to point downwards and finally settled into a cross between a grimace and a frown. Like hay Granny Smith would be more concerned about the flooring when her son’s death had recently come to pass, he thought as he pushed the matter aside. To his surprise, his little sister’s expression remained schooled, like Pa dying was natural. It was natural for ponies to pass away—expected even, but how could she handle it so darned easy? If it was he who had just been given the news, Big McIntosh was sure he would have been in shambles by then, beating on the ground in anger and frustration at the unkind fate of which had befallen his father. Was it really fate, though? Or was it just because of a useless son? Big Mac couldn’t help but wonder. He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts before instantaneously being cut off by Applejack’s sudden question. “What happened?” Big McIntosh felt himself exhale sharply. How blunt. Still, it was a response that was expected from his little sister. Tired, and with a heavy heart, he illustrated it with a wary clamp on graphic descriptions. “It was bad,” he started. ... He had tried, with unreserved desperation, to drag his father back home. Shoving, begging—even threatening had not worked. Riddled with multiple bite and claw marks, Pa had simply laid there on the bloodied soil and let his life slowly seep away as he blatantly ignored Big McIntosh’s frantic requests to get up. His limbs hung uselessly to the side, and he breathed shallow and jagged breaths while Big Mac shook his father’s limp body as if the effort would magically cure him. The young colt forcefully bit back the horror that came with every bloodstain splashing on his already-red coat. The timberwolves had done a number on him, that’s what. But Pa had warded them off, knowing full well of the danger he placed himself in. Pa may have fought the losing battle, but he did what a father should have done, and that was all that mattered to the frightened colt. This amazing feat alone was even enough to gain his undying loyalty—and yet that heartfelt devotion didn’t seem to be able to make his hero undying himself. Pa was undoubtedly the opposite of undying at that moment. “Pa! You have to get up!” Big Mac continued to fruitlessly shake his father’s side. He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face as the injured stallion’s breathing slowed to a soft wheeze. “Please, Pa!” Through clenched teeth, all Pa did was whisper in a quiet, strangled voice, “Get yourself home. There ain’t no savin’ me now, Mac.” And then he grew silent. His eyes were already starting to become glassy. ... Applejack breathed a sharp intake of breath as her brother quoted their father. Still, she did not react, seeming to rank staying silent higher than speaking. The filly looked like she was mulling through the situation’s events slowly, bit by bit. Though her eyes were carefully shielded from Big McIntosh’s view, he could plainly see—no, feel— a tinge of disturbance radiating from her, which was why he immediately regretted saying his next impulsive words. “...Pa died,” Big McIntosh said once more to the filly before him, and then whispered a soft “I’m sorry” as an afterthought. He hung his head, feeling the shameful emotions of which he had already experienced on the frenzied run back home. “I—I’m fine.” She waved him off. Almost as if to back up her point, her tearless face hadn’t indicated any sort of emotional turmoil, save for the sad, wispy eyes and deep frown etched onto her features. At this point, Big Mac could barely contain his curiosity. Had she been taught to maintain her emotions during the days he and Pa were out, or was her lack of empathy the cause of some other reason? If that was so, Mac wondered what terrible calamity would have shaken her up that badly. Then again, grief was pretty much flogging any sort of common sense he had at the moment—for a very good reason, too!—and he really couldn’t get to the bottom of his inquiries without questioning her directly, though he thought she probably wouldn’t want somepony to just nose in her business in such a manner. Besides, he shrugged, if it involved him, Applejack would surely let him know in due time. Then he cautiously took a seat beside her and, turning to his little sister, spoke gently. “You’re actin’ awfully strong today, sis. I’m proud of you and all, but...it’s fine to cry once in a while. ‘Cause sometimes problems are too much for one pony to handle themselves, y’know.” “I reckon I’m...too tired to cry.” Applejack finally sighed, and a second passed before she deigned to speak again. “Ma...she died a while back.” The filly glanced over at the surprised expression on Big McIntosh’s face and simply forged on, cutting off the questions bubbling at the tip of his tongue. “Soon as she found out the two of you were in the Everfree lookin’ for a cure for her, she done bolted out of bed in the night to find y’all. An’ it was durin’ a thunderstorm, too.” Then she paused, her face darkening. “You remember how Pa always told us to stay away from trees so we don’t get struck by lightning, right?” “Yeah, it’s ‘cause trees conduct lightning,” Big Mac ventured. “Why?” Applejack was ominously silent. For a split second there, Mac could have sworn he saw tears brimming on the edges of her eyes as she turned away. Did that mean...? “No...no...that...” He trailed off, not daring to finish his thought. “Ma was struck by lightning,” she finally said. “When I heard her sneakin’ out, I came with her to find y’all. I tried to stop her for a while, but Ma wouldn’t budge and told me to go home, sayin’ it was dangerous for a filly like me out in the woods. I wanted to say it was dangerous for her too, but I just couldn’t find the words to, y’know?” It almost sounded like she was choking on the words coming out of her mouth, rushing her words and slurring a few lines as if she wanted to get the explanation over and done with. Big McIntosh nodded. “I didn’t want Pa goin’ out to the Everfree either. I knew he was doin’ it for Ma, but...” “She was out there for Pa. And you.” Applejack absently wiped away her stray tears. “Then she started gettin’ tired and finally listened to my advice for once.” She paused and winced as if being force-fed bitter leaves. “We were just turnin’ back when the timberwolves came.” The colt shuddered. His recent experience with the beasts hadn’t been pleasant, and the thought of Applejack meeting those bloodthirsty fiends did nothing to quell the sinking feeling in his stomach. “An’ then what?” “What else? I did what I could,” she said. “I fought them.” ... In his mind’s eye, Big McIntosh imagined his little sister fighting off a horde of monsters, standing protectively in front of their mother as to not let them inflict any pain upon the weakened older mare. Though Ma was pretty strong herself, she had recently birthed baby Apple Bloom, and it was from the birth process itself that had taken a huge toll on her physical health. It had been the main reason Pa overexerted himself to find his friend in the Everfree Forest to get medicine, and the source of all-things horrible happening to the two siblings’ mental state. “Hyah!” Applejack lunged forward and caught the pack’s leader in the face, plunging the sharp branch into its exposed glowing green eye. He could picture the way the wolf had yowled in pain, and how Applejack had turned away to engage the other beasts, not having time to savor the temporary victory. She bucked them like nopony’s business and landed each of them two hind legs to the chest, silently thanking Celestia with every felled enemy. There were beads of sweat running down her face as she desperately guarded her mother with the measly stick, her sweat dripping in both jarringly terrified and determined drops. Eventually, the two had been cornered. Their mother, Applejack described, was huddled up with her back against the thick tree behind them, yelling for Applejack to come to her “for safety.” “Applejack!” Ma pleaded. “Please! You don’t have to do this for me!” Applejack hadn’t spared a look back and simply crouched into the fighting position that she’d always used when playfighting against her big brother. Who would have figured it would be used in a real fight? “Shh,” Applejack tiredly wheezed through the branch gripped tightly in her jaws. “I ain’t gonna die today, Ma.” Fate was probably feeling cruel that day. As soon as she had said that, a bolt of lightning zipped down from the sky and flashed behind her, lighting up the exact place their mother was standing moments before. “Ma!” But Applejack’s alarmed shout had only reached deaf ears—the deed was already done. The little filly could only numbly look back at the charred remains of what used to be her Ma, tears welling at the gruesome sight. The pony she was fighting so hard to protect had been killed by the protection itself. What horrible irony. ... “Ma!” His little sister’s cry echoed in Big Mac’s head, over and over and over again. He resisted the urge to keel over and break down like the weak pony he was. Just listening to his little sister’s account made him want to hurl the contents of his stomach—which probably wasn’t much— onto the terrace. “The tree conducted the lightning to Ma,” Applejack said beside him, remaining as motionless and stiff as a rock. When Big McIntosh turned to her for comforting, he discovered that her face held a very sharp edge to it, like the little farmpony was forcefully holding back tears. Maybe she was. Big McIntosh dropped the hoof he was subconsciously raising to clasp on Applejack’s shoulder. It was a natural reflex that he’d made a habit of doing when he knew his little sister was down, just like during the times when Applejack would accidentally make a mistake and silently beat herself up over it, no matter how big or small the mistake happened to be. Though, his hoof was a little too bloody to be used as a comforting device at the moment, he decided. “What about the timberwolves? What happened to ‘em after Ma...died?” “Scared by the lightning. After them varmints ran away, I brought Ma back home and buried her like Pa would’ve wanted.” This would be the first (and certainly not the last) time he had ever seen her expression so devoid of any sort of emotion. Young’uns weren’t supposed to have eyes that spoke of deep sorrow, or reasons to shut themselves up tight in the dark, gruesome fields of their minds. Applejack had good causes for both. And that genuinely scared him. In that moment, Big McIntosh could feel his life crashing down on him. ............................................................................................................................. Rainbow Dash restlessly twisted and coiled around in her sleep that night. Incoherent thoughts of anguish swirled around in her agitated head, and she had unknowingly rolled off her—or rather, Applejack’s—bed in a fit of murmured whimpering. She landed right next to Applejack’s sleeping form on her makeshift bed of hay and unwittingly shocked the dozing farmpony awake. Miraculously, Rainbow Dash hadn’t stirred at all during her fall and had only managed a weak “oof” at the landing before going back to her terror-filled tossing and turning, occasionally sighing bits and pieces of words. “Stop...arrgh...live, damn it...Apple...jack...” If she had been conscious at all, she’d have surely been frowning profusely and silently chiding herself to not do embarrassing things around her caretaker like that. What she would not realize until morning was that the orange filly made no attempt to push her away (Rainbow Dash did, after all, invade her personal space) and instead wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer—presumably to warm the pegasus up, of course. Rainbow Dash hadn’t even heard her when Applejack mumbled breathlessly, “It’s alright. Sleep; I’ve got you.” As Rainbow Dash’s mind eased to a calming point, everything became right again. ... Hours later, at dawn, the two fillies were awakened by the sound of a crowing rooster. The rapid “cocka-doodle-doo”s resonated throughout the farm every single day to wake the sleeping Apple family—plus one!—and frankly, Rainbow Dash hadn’t ever gotten used to that part of staying at Sweet Apple Acres. She was fine with the intense applebucking, seasonal field-plowing, and even the amusing art of apple selling, but waking up early? She didn’t get that at all. Which was why she rolled over and grumbled, “Shut up.” Naturally, Rainbow Dash was never an early riser and preferred the late rays of sun from the afternoon light. She was a lazy and carefree pony at heart, after all. Being surrounded by hardworkers did little to ease that lazy streak. The rooster quieted a moment later. To her right, Applejack let out a tired yawn and shifted in the hay. “Whuh...? Rainbow...what are you doin’ on my bed...?” Evidently, she was not perturbed by the relentless rays of sunshine protruding through the glass window and was more concerned about a warm body lying beside her. Talk about low priorities, Rainbow Dash thought. She refused to open her eyes at the sound of her bedmate’s obvious confusion and deigned to mutter in an irritable voice, “Just go back to sleep, AJ.” Due to not being conscious for the better half of the previous night, Rainbow Dash herself had no clue as to why she was currently sprawled on Applejack’s makeshift hay bed either, and she wasn’t really awake enough to actually care. In her opinion, it was too early and too comfortable for any sort of coherent thought at the moment. Without quite realizing it, she reflexively reached out and gripped the other filly in a tight bearhug, wrapping both arms around Applejack’s suddenly-stiff shoulders and ignored the slight twitch that came from the farmpony at her sudden touch. That simple movement felt so familiar and reassuring that she had a sneaking suspicion that something like that had happened in the night. The thought of unconsciously cuddling her best friend in the dark brought an uncomfortable feeling to her chest. She swallowed, hoping Applejack hadn’t felt her heartbeat quicken. The hay crinkled softly as Applejack writhed in an attempt to disentangle herself from underneath Rainbow Dash. When that method failed, the farmpony opted to relax into her embrace instead, breathing a sigh torn between contentment and aggravation. “...Hey,” she growled quietly. “If you’re gonna stay like this all mornin’, the least you can do is let me breathe.” “Heh, sorry.” Rainbow Dash’s hold slackened. “It’s a good thing today’s our day off, RD. Otherwise I would’ve...” When Rainbow Dash finally opened her eyes to inquire about the farmpony’s unfinished threat, she found that Applejack was already sound asleep, face relaxed into a softer and innocent expression, completely opposite of the midly-intimidating tone she was using a few minutes ago. She sighed. “So you were more tired than me after all. Maybe you shouldn’t do that anymore—hide your true feelings from others, I mean. We’re practically family, AJ. If you can’t trust yourself, trust your family.” Rainbow Dash wasn’t quite sure if the farmpony had heard her until Applejack said, with her eyes still firmly shut tight, “I know.” “...Good, ‘cause you should explain what I meant later...I didn’t understand a single word of it,” she yawned. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash felt the hay shift again. Only, it wasn’t because Applejack was moving to push her away. Instead, she looked over to find that the farmpony was quietly shaking in laughter. Without releasing her grasp around her companion, Rainbow Dash raised a curious eyebrow.“Something funny, AJ?” Applejack stilled, though the broad smile was still plastered on her face. “I was jus’ thinkin’.” “About?” “Well, since you were so afraid last night, I figured I would have to take care of you in the morning. Then you went and turned the tables on me.” She shrugged dismissively, though it was a little difficult to do so with the extra weight pinning her down. Rainbow Dash slowly freed her hug enough to still have one arm around Applejack’s shoulder and moved the other to prop herself on her elbow. This way, they lay face to face and were only a few centimeters away from actually brushing noses. As she opened her mouth to speak, she tried not to think about the closeness between them, or about how Applejack’s surprisingly-fresh breath was hot on her face, or even about how the farmpony’s attention was fully rapt on her every movement. It was a little too early for those kinds of shenanigans anyway, and she felt groggy enough to not want reasons to warrant embarrassment. Still, she felt her face flush. “That story you told me a while ago—the one about how your parents died—it gave me nightmares.” “Sorry.” The earnest sincerity in Applejack’s voice with that one word nearly made Rainbow Dash want to nod and accept the apology, but she refrained from doing so and pressed on with a huge effort. “But that’s just it, Applejack. It only gave me nightmares. What about you? You were there. It must have been terrifying.“ “It was scary,” Applejack admitted. “But I think I’m gettin’ over it. My family’s helpin’ me out a lot.” They were both silent for a moment. “...AJ?” “Yeah?” “Let’s go to sleep.” “Mm.” When Applejack raised her arm over Rainbow Dash’s to pull her nearer and fiercely return the hug, it was then that the pegasus realized how thankful she was for her unexpected (yet warming) family. It may not have been as carefree and colorful as her old life with her parents in Cloudsdale, but it was just right. This was the ideal family—or, at least, it was her ideal family, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Besides, it felt a little better to just thank her best friend with actions rather than words. For the first time that month, Rainbow Dash drifted off to tranquility. ............................................................................................................................. “...know how to do it! Just gimme a second to practice!” A fiery maned pony winced as a crash echoed soon after, followed by a yelp of pain. “Ooh, sounds painful,” Spitfire grunted to herself with a small smile. She sat perched on a high tree branch, listening in on the action below; her body crouched in a half-relaxed half-stiff position in case a fast escape was needed. Though the view was mainly obstructed by the many leaves and branches hanging beneath her form, she could tell just by hearing the thuds and cries of frustration that somepony down there was having a hard time. And by somepony, she meant Rainbow Dash. And to think that just the thought of the blue pegasus being not-dead could bring a giddy smile to her face. “Dash,” an amused voice said. “Applebucking may look easy, but it ain’t. Here, lemme show it to you again.” Thud. The tree nearby shuddered and shook as Spitfire heard something drop. Probably an apple, judging by the loud chomp that it resulted in. “Anf thas how ya do it!” The muffled voice triumphantly called. “Applejack...” Rainbow Dash groaned. “Stop showing off.” Evidently, the object in the other pony’s mouth was removed as clear, peal laughter reached Spitfire’s ears. “That sounds kinda funny comin’ from you,” the accented voice continued. “You’re probably the definition of showoff.” Applejack, was it? Spitfire struggled to contain her own sniggers as Rainbow Dash spouted a sarcastic “ha ha” in response. Three months. It’d been three months since Rainbow Dash’s “death.” It had taken Spitfire a whole month of searching high and low in Ponyville just to sigh dejectedly and call it quits after weeks of no results. In fact, she had just been trudging past Sweet Apple Acres (which was on the edge of town and, admittedly, the only place she’d automatically skipped, deeming Rainbow Dash to be the non-rustic type) when a loud “oof!” floated past her ears. She had briefly stopped to wonder if somepony needed her help when another voice growled, “Careful there, Dash. Wouldn’t want you to split your noggin again.“ “I didn’tbreak my head that time,” a familiar voice had whined. “I only fell...from hundreds of feet up. From Cloudsdale.” Dash? Rainbow Dash?! Spitfire’s mind had gone on autopilot to quickly connect the dots. Rainbow Dash was there? Then, when her conclusions were drawn and solutions hastily planned, she had felt her body automatically surge forward and off her original course to pursue a stealthier route—high up in the air, straight towards the nearest apple tree. ...And so, that was how Spitfire, proud team leader of Cloudsdale’s flight school, was reduced to hiding at the very peak of an apple tree just to eavesdrop. She grimaced at the thought of her earlier impulsiveness and, with a quick frown, shrugged it off as if it were nothing. Oh well. It could’ve gone worse. At the very least, she had found the pegasus relatively unharmed and...well, if Rainbow Dash was going to continue trying to knock that tree over, she may as well have been marked “injured” in her books. She forcefully shifted her attention to the present as Applejack sighed, forcing the blue pegasus to temporarily halt in her pounding of the tree. “Today’s our day off, ain’t it? Why’re we out here buckin’ trees?” “I want to learn!” Rainbow Dash immediately bit back. Her tone softened as she seemed to realize how harsh she was sounding. “I just...sorry.” Spitfire couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her sudden apology. In the short time that she’d known the pegasus, she hadn’t ever heard so much as an ‘excuse me’ from her, much less a genuine ‘I’m sorry.’ She didn’t have long to ponder the Rainbow Dash’s utmost sincerity and trust toward the stranger—Applejack—since the two fillies were already pulling away from the apple groves. Trying not to let out an exasperated cry, Spitfire quietly scurried after them, jumping from branch to branch and using her wings to soften each landing. “Just stay in one place,” she angrily muttered as she was led toward the general direction of a nearby hilltop. What exactly were those two ponies planning to do there? Roll down? Once the trail of trees ended, she relented in her pursuit and deigned to watch from afar, shielded from sight in the brambles of the apple trees. She softly pushed aside a thin branch to reveal a clear view of Applejack sitting on the grassy outcrops while Rainbow Dash stood a few meters away, speaking words that Spitfire could not hear from the distance. Her expression was nearly unreadable. Applejack patiently waited for her to finish before saying something that made Rainbow Dash slowly trot over and sit alongside her. After a brief moment of fleeting silence as the pegasus settled into her spot, Applejack said something else, earning herself a dubious expression from said company. To this, the orange pony straightened and haughtily huff out a reply. Rainbow Dash’s ears flattened against her head as she seemed to be at a loss for words. Was that a “thank you” coming out of her mouth? Spitfire never thought of herself as a master lipreader, but it seriously looked like it. Applejack smiled and said something else, causing Rainbow Dash to return the smile with her own. What the hay were they talking about? She itched to bolt out of her hiding place and demand answers. Sadly, she wasn’t in the mood to be labeled a stalker and thus kept a lid on it. When was it ever a good time to appear out of nowhere and say, ‘Hey, I was just watching you from those apple trees over there and could you speak a little louder so I could hear you? Maybe even repeat a few of your lines too? ‘Kay thanks.’ Confused as she was, Spitfire made no move to come through with her morbid plan. Needless to say, she only stared. Rainbow Dash was standing again, the only difference being the fact that Applejack was by her side. They stood at the very edge of the hill overlooking the entire farm, beneath the clear blue sky and in the rays of the afternoon sun. The gentle wind tousled their manes a bit, carrying away the words floating out of their mouths as the fillies softly conversed. Spitfire could only gawk in miserable silence as she wished to know what they were saying to each other. Was it too much to ask, for just one moment, to have the comprehension that was needed to understand the situation? Or maybe, she sighed, just one little bit of dialogue to go by and make conclusions out of? She gasped slightly as Rainbow Dash shot her companion a grin and jumped from the hill, extending her wings to a movement that Spitfire knew very well from her beginner’s class at flight school: a glide. Applejack grinned back and yelled, “Now, while you’re floating! Move your wings! Not too fast! ...Not too slow either!” Spitfire’s look of awe as Rainbow Dash followed her commands didn’t compare at all to the look of joy gracing the blue pegasus' face herself as she steadily gained distance from the ground, flitting upwards instead of downwards. Her iridescent mane shone in the afternoon sunlight, inadvertently creating a picturesque scene. “AJ, I’m flying!” she called. And as quickly as that joy had come, it faded as Rainbow Dash was suddenly struck by strong winds. The gusts fought for control, the tendrils of air continuing to push her backwards until the pegasus started to plummet. Spitfire gritted her teeth as she heard Rainbow Dash’s inherent yelling and remained rooted to the spot, determined not to blow her cover. Luckily for her, Applejack was already on the move. “Hold on, RD!” She raced to the side of the hill where the pegasus was freefalling, diving to break Rainbow Dash’s fall. With a thud and a pained “ow,” Rainbow Dash landed squarely across her best friend’s back, forming a blue-and-orange plus sign with the literal addition of her own body. For a moment, everything was deathly still, their eyes locked together as if in a trance. Spitfire breathed an audible sigh of relief as they burst into laughter a split second later, melting away the building tension. Suddenly, she became fully aware of the fact that they were a little too close to her location—meaning she could actually understand what they were saying. “Didya see me? I was flying!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, raising her hooves excitedly. She didn’t seem to realize that her own body was draped across Applejack’s lone form. “That was awesome!” Applejack cheerfully returned the enthusiasm twofold. “Yeah, I’ve never really seen many pegasi my age flyin’ around before. What was it like?” “Like...I dunno, feeling free or something, I guess.” The farmpony quirked an eyebrow at the simple response. “Maybe I should ask you that question again tomorrow morning—when you’re half-asleep.” She grinned. “An’ smarter.” “Joke’s on you, AJ,” Rainbow Dash breezed. “Now I have an excuse to sleep on your bed again.” “Now, who says I don’t enjoy bein’ in your company...?” Spitfire abruptly turned away, feeling like an intruder. The two obviously had formed some sort of close bond over the last three months—there was nothing odd about that. There was just something intimate about the way they interacted that had felt sincerely off-limits to outsiders. As she took a careful step backwards, she spotted movement on the edges of her vision and turned her whole body to face it. What she saw was—“Fluttershy?” she whispered. The yellow pegasus quietly nodded her affirmation and shyly raised a hoof to indicate silence. Then she turned and floated off her nearby branch with ease, heading away toward Spitfire’s intended direction. The fiery maned pony followed after her, berating herself for not noticing her friend’s presence earlier. She supposed the fault was in the fact that she’d been too engrossed in Rainbow Dash and her best friend’s exchange that she had subsequently forgotten to actually focus on anything other than the pair of fillies in front. Her face burned at the thought of intruding on their private lives in such a manner. They silently passed through the apple orchards and had been following another dirt road before Spitfire stopped, recognizing the outbreak of green forest greeting them at the end. “Fluttershy, wait!” she called to the filly walking a few meters ahead of her. “This road leads to the Everfree Forest!” Fluttershy halted, squeaking out a small “eep!” This small disturbance allowed Spitfire to catch up. When she pulled up next to her friend, she couldn’t help but sigh at Fluttershy’s terrified expression. “We don’t really have anywhere to go,” she said, keeping her voice even. “So—“ “I-I have a cottage near here, s-so we could go there if we wanted,” Fluttershy hurriedly cut in. “A-actually, it used to be my parents’ but they aren’t alive anymore so I think it’s okay.“ Now Spitfire was perturbed. “You’re an orphan too?” Her mind was spinning in circles as she processed the new information. She frowned. “Why was I never told?” “You, um, never exactly asked,” Fluttershy timidly answered. As if to avoid any more talk, she lightly reached out and pulled Spitfire’s arm to her body, gently guiding her off the road and to the right. “L-let’s go.” Spitfire looked from her arm to the pegasus pulling on it, eyes slowly darting back and forth between the two before being veered off course. They walked along the edge of the Everfree Forest for a while before the yellow pegasus actually let go of her arm. Spitfire distinctly remembered Fluttershy mumbling something about the cottage being near the forest and figured that may have been the only reason for her not being led directly away from the creepy-looking shroud of endless trees. Without a road or path to follow, Spitfire was starting to feel a little anxious—and lost. Despite that feeling, she only had to look over at Fluttershy’s determined expression to be reminded of the faith she had in her friend’s sense of direction. Eventually, though, treading on nothing but grass and gravel for more than an hour paid off when they were met with an unusually narrow dirt road. It haphazardly began in the middle of the grass, like a sidewalk that was not meant to be discovered by random onlookers. A sharp glance in the distance confirmed Fluttershy’s earlier claim; the home awaiting them on the end of the path was definitely a cottage. As Spitfire shoved open the creaky front door, she tried not to notice the dust billowing from the edges of the gate; though she was evidently unsuccessful due to some of the said dust collecting at the back of her throat and forcing her to let out loud coughs. She didn’t need to glance down to know that her hooves were probably caked in grime. Scanning over the inside of the cottage, Spitfire could see that everything was covered with a thin film of dust—everything but the oversized couch in the corner, which she automatically assumed was Fluttershy’s temporary bed. She immediately trotted over to it and sat down without a moment’s hesitation, letting her tired joints relax and unwind. Fluttershy followed suit a moment later, quietly sitting beside her on the couch. “Hey Fluttershy,” Spitfire said between muffled coughs and tired wheezing. “How long have you been staying here?” “I, um, kind of left the same time as you.” She spotted Spitfire’s surprised expression and returned it with a look of horror. ”I-I didn’t jump!” she insisted. “Not like you or Rainbow Dash. I...I took a chariot.” “Sensible enough,” Spitfire duly noted, and leaned over, giving Fluttershy a sideways look. “There was an alternative to falling from Cloudsdale to Ponyville? Shocking. I thought everypony had to take a dive every once in a while.” Her gaze lingered over the dusty photo frames sitting atop the fireplace. The photos heralded the images of a happy mare and a stallion, complete with a small yellow pegasus wedged between them in each and every shot. Those were just snapshots from their everyday life, and Spitfire had to wonder—what could’ve happened to split this serene little world of theirs? The only thing her mind answered with was death. “Why?” she questioned aloud. “Why what?” Her question was answered with Fluttershy’s confused response. Spitfire gestured to the picture frames on the fireplace, brow furrowed. “Why did you end up like this?” There was silence as she felt Fluttershy thinking up a reply. And then, without missing a beat, the yellow pegasus spoke, eyes shining with pride as she went on an uncharacteristically long and rushed tangent. “My parents had weak hearts, you know. They couldn’t really do anything that had to do with straining themselves—but they didn’t care. Every day, they would take me for adventure after adventure—we went hiking up mountains, talked to animals, and even explored huge forests with monsters that were scary at first but were very friendly when I got to know them.” The monologue was cut to a screeching halt as Fluttershy took a deep breath to ease the onslaught of hasty words, her voice creeping back to its shy and slow sentences as she finished in her normal tone. “Until finally, their hearts couldn’t take it. They died, and I was sent back to Cloudsdale, where I was born, to stay with my uncle and aunt.” Not expecting her friend’s change in attitude, Spitfire hadn’t realized she was openly gaping until Fluttershy made a noise of unease in the back of her throat. She quickly gathered her wits and said, “Are you happy with your aunt and uncle?” “Oh yes,” Fluttershy softly agreed, as if she hadn’t just spent the last few minutes pouring out her life story. “They’re very nice.” “That’s good,” Spitfire yawned, her eyes fluttering shut. “I hope it stays good.” The couch slightly squeaked on the wooden floorboards as Fluttershy finally settled into a laying position. “Me too,” she whispered.
FollowSpitfire ran her hoof through her fiery mane in agitation. She paced around the small proximity of the cloud underneath her feet, struggling to keep an iron grip on her senses. It had been two whole months since Rainbow Dash’s plunge. The memory of it blazed into her skull, every detail down in perfect precision; from the uneasy expression on the other pegasus’ face, to the blue feather that remained rooted to the spot she’d previously stood before plummeting into the unknown depths below. Coach went after her, only to come back empty-handed with a rigid icy cold expression. It had nearly paralyzed her at how brusquely he brushed off the loss, as if one little pegasus didn’t matter. He’d just arrogantly galvanized the students into continuing the test without the lost pony. From what Spitfire later learned about that filly, Rainbow Dash had no parents—no guardians, no aunts, no uncles. An orphan left to die in the harsh world singlehandedly. How could she have let something like that happen? Spitfire stared pensively at the lone blue feather on her hoof with regret. To anypony else outside of the flight academy, that dirty, ragged feather sitting on the end of her hoof meant nothing. The deterioration caused to it in the relentless continuation of time didn’t denote a single thing to any common pony’s eye. A figment of the past; that’s what it was—just a tiny piece of that coarse day for Spitfire to carry on in perpetuity. Nonetheless, she refused to see the truth. Rainbow Dash wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead. No, that glint of determination in those magenta eyes of hers couldn’t have let the orphan pass away that easily. Notnow, not yet. Spitfire forcefully unclenched her jaw and let out a half-hearted laugh. For heaven’s sake, she was just deluding herself. All the pony could do was hope Rainbow’s death was quick and painless. She stomped her hoof angrily. Pacing around all day didn’t seem to help improve her mood at all. “Spitfire—“ Her head snapped up in the direction the sudden voice came from. “—A-are you here for Rainbow Dash too?” Fluttershy, standing on the cloud behind her, appeared as startled as the pegasus facing her when Spitfire’s analyzing eyes came to rest on her delicate frame. The quiver in her lips told Spitfire enough—Fluttershy was suffering as much as her, if not more. It was she who stood by Rainbow Dash, not her. Spitfire had merely raced insufferably ahead of the crowd of students, only hanging out with the best, being as inattentive to everypony else with only the intent of growing stronger and stronger than everypony. In short, Spitfire was completely and utterly oblivious to the supposedly-deceased pegasus’ dire need of help. She had to hand it to her; Rainbow Dash hid it well. Unresponsive, the fiery-maned pony turned away guiltily, unable to hold Fluttershy’s pitying eyes, and instead focused her gaze on her unfamiliar surroundings, drinking in the sights leisurely. In her fit of sulking, Spitfire had failed to notice her cloud being carried away by the rogue gusts of wind, coiling and twisting around the platform she walked upon. She found herself drifting closer and closer to a giant multicolored fountain of liquid rainbows. Almost gloomily, that home probably represented unending happiness at one point. Now, it was just a desolate place of death. Upon closer inspection, Spitfire could faintly make out wilted potted plants sitting on a windowsill in a neat row, crumpled downcast by the brutal force of gravity and lack of turgor pressure. They’d died quite some time ago, if her judgment was correct. Their care seemed to have already been tossed aside long before Rainbow Dash’s death. “’If my parents can’t live, why should they?’” Spitfire mumbled aloud before she managed to catch herself. Rainbow Dash’s reason for leaving the plants to wither probably was somewhat more practical like purely being lazy or too anguished to want to do anything. The garbage Spitfire had spewed on a whim probably did not hold any meaning to the blunt pony anyway. Or so she thought. She felt Fluttershy’s curious look boring a hole in her back and shrugged it off, not deeming it worthy of any altercation. The shy pony made no attempt to confront her about the comment, however, awkwardly keeping her head pointed in another direction. A long and uncomfortable respite passed between them before Fluttershy decided to speak up, motioning at the rainbow fountain. “This is—“ Spitfire interrupted quickly, much to her dismay. “—Rainbow Dash’s home. I can tell, y’know. Something about the rainbows gave it away.” She chuckled darkly at the joke. “Nice decorations.” On the front steps leading to the entrance, Spitfire noticed little gifts dedicated to the cyan pegasus—a pie, a few multicolored flowers, picture frames, pieces of foreign cloth—most of which appeared to be from the students at the academy. A workhat pressed between a cement step and a bouquet of golden daisies stood out among the other presents, mainly because of its bright yellow shade. Spitfire’s face softened as she thought back to the month before, when Coach’s favorite hat was nowhere to be found, never to reappear on his head again. He hadn’t said a word regarding where it had disappeared or why, nor did he comment when confronted by his bolder students about it. Who would have known that old stallion had a softer side to him? Spitfire certainly hadn’t. She pulled the dirt-encrusted blue feather from her fiery mane and tenderly stroked it with her free hoof. Then, carefully placing it atop the hardhat, she didn’t take her eyes off the strikingly familiar yellow object as she said in a low voice, “Coach likes to keep his affection to himself, doesn’t he?” Fluttershy touched the bouquet of flowers beside the hardhat hesitantly. “I-I think so—um, that is, if you’re okay with it.” The wind began to pick up, tossing her pink tufts of hair wildly and wedged itself over her face, discreetly covering her visage and gave her a clever excuse not to meet Spitfire’s probing gaze. “Dash would have loved meeting you...um, personally.” The sudden change of subject sent a jolt of deadly surprise Spitfire’s way. “I have met her.” “Th-that’s not what I meant!” Fluttershy tried not to flinch at her own impulsive outburst. Spitfire recoiled. What exactly did she mean, then? No response. This gave Spitfire some time to think to herself, contemplating what the hay she was supposed to do, now that an academy student was allegedly dead. Her thoughts gradually drifted in the direction of action, from what she was going to do to what would eventually happen. If she stayed, her life would end up normal and continue on wondering if Rainbow Dash was okay and being well cared for. On the other hand, if she went, her life would erratically change; blissful ignorance to knowing the harsh life of the ponies below. Her second option jumped out at her, plaguing her mind with all the thoughts of both a bad and good ending. She thoroughly weighed her options. Everything boiled down to whether she would or wouldn’t leave depending on the events that would soon be set in motion. A few minutes ticked by before Spitfire turned away arrantly and unhurriedly jogged off, extending her wings and taking off to the flowing gales of the winding drafts ahead, much to the shy pony’s astonishment. It was almost cruel, leaving Fluttershy alone like that. Then again, she wasn’t about to turn back, Spitfire thought, her mind burning in temptation—her already-made decision was tucked away warm and cozily right in her chest cavities. Spitfire’s original intent was to pay her respects and leave. Now, however, her purpose had changed—for better, she liked to think. Thanks, Fluttershy. She didn’t even look back when Fluttershy whisper-shouted, “Wait! Wh-where are you going?” “To meet her.” ......................................................... Rainbow Dash bit into the apple boisterously. Delicious. She currently was hidden stealthily in the shadows of the apple tree behind her, the wind whistling gently in her ears. The pegasus couldn’t help reaching down and plucking an apple from the ground hungrily. Living in Sweet Apple Acres for two months had surprisingly failed to make her sick of apples. In fact, it might have even made Dash appreciate apples even more, taking into consideration the affectionate company that came with the scrumptious apple-based meals. “How long do you reckon you’re stayin’ there, RD?” Applejack called out, her voice resounding in the area close by. Said pony swallowed fitfully and tried not to choke on the giant chunk of apple going down her gullet. When she finally made progress in forcing the food down, Rainbow Dash managed a daunting smirk. “How long do you think you’ll spend looking for me?” She teasingly replied. Hide-and-Seek was the best, especially to the sneakiness that came in the form of a blue pegasus. She snaked straight past the sound of slow clopping echoing against the surrounding trees, well aware of the danger she placed herself in. Applejack’s eyes were as sharp as every other one of her senses. But, Rainbow Dash realized soon after, her senses didn’t work so well when provoked. The smirk spread wider across her complexion. She had to admit, though, Applejack’s slightly-reddened face—whether it was from embarrassment, anger, or a mix of both, Rainbow hadn’t the slightest clue—was kind of adorable...in the most non-creepy way possible, of course. “Adorable?” The earth pony appeared next to her, apparently out of nowhere. In the previously-quiet darkness, Rainbow Dash could make out a reddish tint on Applejack’s features. She still couldn’t be sure if it was fury or discomfit showing on her partner’s countenance, but she did know one thing for certain—Rainbow Dash’s face most certainly harbored a blush. She’d said that aloud? “Oh...err...adorably angry, I mean.” Smooth, you just made things twenty percent worse. The pegasus resisted the urge to thump her noggin against the tree shaft behind her. Applejack turned away, clearing her throat. “I found you, by the way.” Pushing aside her embarrassment, Rainbow Dash flippantly glowered at this and gritted her teeth. “Hey! I was caught off-guard!” She didn’t want to admit it, but despite the sturdy way Applejack handled herself, the farmpony had notoriously silent hooves. It was only when motivated did her hoofsteps become louder with each thump of a leg. That included walking normally, too; her stomps only a soft brunt to the earth below. The simple movement was so smooth and natural that Rainbow Dash had wanted to ask her how she learned to keep on her toes in such a manner. She didn’t expect a jovial answer, so her mouth had sensibly stayed shut. “That’s what sore losers say.” Applejack cheerfully slipped back into their lighthearted bantering. “I’m not a sore loser!” Now that Rainbow Dash was fully healed (or so the doctors said), she was free to do whatever neck-breaking activity she desired. There always seemed to be a contest of who was better at doing trivial things—racing, cleaning dishes, pie-making—everything would just be set on the line in the drop of a bucket if one of the two fillies so much as suggested a challenge. That was the roundabout way of enjoying the other’s company. They had their days of sitting at dusk or dawn, relaxing against themselves and drinking a mug of whatever liquid they deemed worthy of the moment. Those were the days when time stopped, as if it was saying “Here’s your tiny moment of peace. Don’t let it go to waste.” Applejack and Rainbow Dash hadn’t had days like that ever since the untimely deaths of their parents. Oddly enough, they hadn’t ever spent any words talking with no references to their pasts at all. It was like an invisible mutual bond was binding them together, knowingly or not. And they relished the peace reigning in their hearts. “Not a sore loser?” Applejack’s eyes glittered as she clasped Rainbow Dash on her shoulder. “Prove it.” Letting go of the tense tone she carried, the farmpony thoughtfully tapped her chin with a playful smile. “Let’s head back. I’m gettin’ mighty hungry.” She didn’t need to say it twice. It. Was. On. “Yeah. Me too.” Rainbow Dash took no time in shooting forward, the wind battering against her mane in the process. Applejack, starting a second too late, followed closely behind. The pegasus risked a few moments to glance behind her and shouted a few taunts. “Still think I’m a sore loser?” “If you aren’t a sore loser, you’re a sore winner!” Applejack taunted back. She took this opportunity to widen her strides fervently. Seeing Applejack hasten her pace, Rainbow Dash did the same. It wasn’t long before they were neck-and-neck. Not one of the two ponies wanted to let up—not to the growing soreness in their legs, not to the wind trying to choke the air out of their lungs, and certainly not to the other filly running next to them. Both were determined to be crowned the victor, fair and square. Dashing through the apple groves, the blur of blue and orange began melding together in a confusing array of colors. Fleet feet, those two had. Breathing in the fresh air, Rainbow Dash managed to deal with dodging the apple trees as she went, huffing every time she had a close encounter with a hard-as-rock trunk. The pegasus could have sworn Applejack was manipulating the trees into getting in her way, with the manner the farmpony smoothly swiveled in and out, as if knowing beforehand where each spiteful tree would be. Her knowing smirk told more than enough. To their mix of dismay and delight, the mad dash to the farmhouse ended with a draw, immediately ending with the two fillies crumpling onto the farmhouse’s soil like pieces of slack paper. Panting wildly, Rainbow Dash grinned, her chest rising and falling rapidly against the damp earth beneath her. She rolled over and met her friend’s eye. “Nopony wins.” Sprawled on the ground next to her, Applejack nodded and returned the smile, her lips stretching all the way to the edges of her exhausted face. It was quite the run. “Yep. Let’s wash up ‘fore Granny Smith decides to come out an’ lecture us a storm.” Rainbow Dash let out a soft sigh, settling into a more comfortable position. “If she’s the storm, I’m the clouds.” Clouds were nice—lazy, disobedient, and free—just like her. Not to mention the softness of the fluffy cotton balls. When would she ever be able to show Applejack exactly how feathery the clouds were? She idly cracked an eye open. “Just let me rest here for two more years,” she mumbled through her weather-beaten hooves. “Come on, Rainbow Cloud.” Applejack staggered to her feet and held out a weary arm to her companion. “I’m just as tired as you, ya know.” The pegasus accepted conscientiously, gripping tightly onto Applejack’s hoof and dragged herself up. Her lips curled a bit as a humorous notion suddenly occurred to her. “And you’re Lightningjack—you won’t ever give a cloud a break.” “Maybe,” Applejack mumbled absently, starting a slow trot toward the waterhose. It was her job to point Rainbow Dash to where she was supposed to be. Admittedly, she too had wanted to lie down and go to sleep herself, except there was something about the laziness her friend sported that made her strive to work harder in ensuring the health and wellbeing of the accident-prone pony. The name Lightning felt a little awry to her, she thought as the darkened sky began to rumble incongruously, like it was accusing her of the double-edged lie she told back there. She was tired, yes, but she’d also glimpsed the bright flash of lightning while looking for her friend during their game of Hide-and-Seek. Pa had once warned her not to play near any trees while a storm was brewing, which was why she hastily wanted to get out into the clearing. Besides, it was kind of awkward, overhearing Rainbow Dash’s sudden remark about her flushed face. A loud boom erupted overhead. That jarred her back to reality. “A thunderstorm’s comin’,” she noted over the sound of clean water being splashed onto her coat. Rainbow Dash spat out the hose when she’d made sure Applejack was spotless. “Cool. Does that mean we’ll get to see lightning in action?” Applejack hesitated, casting an uncertain glance at the likewise clean pony standing a mere few inches away. Were pegasi always this lenient about storms? She supposed they never had to worry about flooding and such, living untroubled atop the great big clouds that rained only upon the unflying ponies. “Y-yeah, I guess,” she answered. Rainbow Dash’s cheery face sobered as she examined Applejack’s facial expression. “Something wrong?” A streak of lightning tore across the sky behind the farmpony, attracting Rainbow Dash’s attention as her eyes drifted to the sky. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Applejack tremble, drawing in a sharp breath. Carefully making sure it seemed like she wasn’t paying attention, Rainbow Dash watched as the farmpony wiped away her tears and sniffled. “No. Just some bad memories.” Bad memories? Rainbow Dash decided not to pry. It might’ve had something to do with her mother, after hearing Applejack murmur “Ma” under her breath just then. Better to ask later, perhaps before heading off to bed. They shared the same room, after all. The pegasus had a feeling the story she would soon be hearing wouldn’t help her already-fitful dreams much. Still, burdens were better when shared, no matter how hypocritical that sounded to Rainbow Dash. Applejack deserved to know what had befallen her parents, what with all of the kindness and tender care she’d exerted the past two months—but not now. First, she decided, she would learn about the events that had troubled Applejack. Rainbow Dash’s jaw became set. ......................................................... “Coach,” Spitfire reasoned, “Don’t you think you should send some sort of locating ponies down there to look for Rainbow?” “It’s a lost cause.” She waited impatiently as Coach paused to scribble something on his worn out clipboard with a lack of interest. Grunting, he looked back down at her. “Rainbow Dart—“ “Rainbow Dash,” Spitfire corrected him offhandedly, narrowing her eyes a bit. He should have already known her name, him being the stallion with the all-knowing clipboard and all. Unless he was pretending to be stupid, that is. Did he already send help when nopony was looking? Maybe, if the rusty yellow workhat isolated on the front steps of Rainbow Dash’s home told her anything. “—would have already died in the impact.” Spitfire stamped her foot. Despite the fact that no sound came from the soft cloud, Coach seemed to get the impression she was making, pointedly moving his clipboard to his side and shifting his frosty attention in her direction. The academy students close by deliberately had their faces the other way, but Spitfire knew they were clinging to every word being spoken. Spitfire growled. "Look here, Coach. I know for a fact that Rainbow isn't dead." She pointed her hoof at a lone yellow pegasus hanging in the far corner of the crowd, slightly leaning away from the other ponies like an outcast, not quite fitting in and not quite out of place. "Fluttershy over there has been crying her eyes out over her friend, and I won't stand for crying ponies! I know Rainbow Dash must have survived somehow!" That was a lie and she knew it. She was as unsure of Rainbow’s fate as Coach himself was. Coach breathed in heavily, sensing the troubled tone mixed in with the anger at the bitter truth in her voice. “Is any of this your business, Spitfire? You know as well as I do that Rainbow Dash had no other acquaintances other than Fluttershy and her deceased parents.” His steady eye remained glued to her, fixedly observing the look of surprise on her face. “Why exactly are you intruding in on Rainbow Dash’s life now of all times?” Finally, Spitfire frowned. “I told you already, didn’t I? I won’t stand for crying ponies.” “But there’s another reason, is there not?” Coach’s cold demeanor melted as he said, in a softer voice, inclining his head toward her, “You feel guilty.” The nearby students had to lean closer and strain their ears to make out his next words. “As do I.” “Huh?” Before Spitfire could say anything else, Coach sharply spun the other way and shot the eavesdropping party a glare. Their response was to take a step back and shiftily look the other way. “There’s nothing we can do.” “But—“ “Listen to what I said,” Coach sighed, wringing his hooves. “Don’t feel guilty. Let it pass and don’t make any hasty decisions unless you have to.” So he knew what her plan was. “I won’t change what I’ve already decided.” “Alright then.” His expression remained unchanged. No sort of restrictions? It was almost too easy to get his authorization to leave. Spitfire was glad she had the forethought to leave a note telling her parents about her “fieldtrip to the ground,” prudently making sure she mentioned it would be a while before her return. Spitfire felt a shiver go through her. “Why are you letting me do this?” “I know you’ll return safely, pegasus slung over your back or not.” Coach’s hopeful gaze wavered. “I can’t go myself—the academy has standards to live up to, and you’ve shown more than enough promise in your skills of flying.” His slight frown deepened. “And it isn’t as if I can stop you. I can’t promise you that you aren’t leaving your life up here.” “Don’t worry. I left a note.” “If you need a ride back, send for a horse-drawn carriage. Tell them Manerick sent you.” He paused. “Are you sure there aren’t any doubts to what you are about to do?”’ Spitfire shook her head. “No.” “And remember, if you don’t come back soon, you’re considered dead.” And with that oh-so-happy thought, she leaped. ......................................................... “Wait!” Coach nonchalantly glanced in the general direction the sudden outburst came from. Soarin’, crouching by his cloud, stared downwards into the blue skies below where his close friend had jumped. “Why did you let her go?!” “Nopony could’ve stopped her,” Coach simply said. And it was true. The fiery intent in her eyes had told him just that. Yes, he was reluctant to let loose a young filly out into the harsh world beneath, but he had realized the inevitable while staring into the face of the determined youth: With or without his consent, she would dive. So he might as well bestow her some help rather than force back her will. “But I could’ve!” Soarin’ shouted. “But did you?” Coach didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to, seeing the sullen expression spreading across Soarin’s’ countenance. “No.” The colt held his head in shame. “I thought so.” Coach smiled humorlessly. “Besides, she looked like she was about to slug me.”
