E1. The Tangling of Applejack
The Tangling of Applejack: Part 1.
Act 1.
The fields of Ponyville flashed past the window of the speeding bus, a veritable cornucopia of golden swathes of wheat and verdant twists of leafy greenery, overshadowed by the thick russet slabs of tree trunks rising high above the earth, bisecting out into slender branches hung heavy with fruit. An inspiring sight to warm the cockles of the stoniest heart that was completely lost on all but one of the occupant ponies.
A single face was pressed against the window, green eyes lit up in excitement for her eventual homecoming. Applejack almost couldn’t wait to get back to the farm.
True, though she did dearly love her extended kith and kin, being the sole representative of the Ponyville Apples at the Trottingham family get together could be quite a strain on anypony’s nerves. The infighting and complicated familial politics that surrounded the estranged and outermost branches of the Apple tree were tricky enough waters to navigate at postal range, at spitting distance all the bubbling feelings of petty annoyance and mutual ingratitude came rushing to the fore in a tidal wave of passive aggressive social bear baiting.
‘Spitting distance’ was, if anything, too sanitary a term.
It was, perhaps, due to her attention to the scenery that she alone saw the four figures walking along the side of the road. For a given value of ‘walking.’ The lead figure was bouncing along in a very familiar and welcome gait and the poofy expanse of her pink mane jiggled about her shoulders with every skip.
Applejack pulled her saddlebag out from under her seat and trotted jerkily to the front of the bus, coughing loudly for the drivers’ attention. “‘Scuse me sir, but wouldja kindly let me off here?”
The elderly pony at the reigns of the bus snorted awake, rolling one rheumy eye in Applejack’s direction. “What?” He grunted. “Whatchoo want?”
Applejack spoke loud and careful in her enunciation; “can you drop me off here? Rather than the farm? Please?”
The bus driver stared at her with a nonplussed frown on his face. As the stare continued for a long uncomfortable moment, Applejack caught a glimpse of a bouncy pink shape keeping surprising pace with the bus outside, three smaller figures scurrying to match.
The bus driver started to snore and Applejack barked, “look mister, canya just let me off right now?”
The driver started awake once again, the end product of a worrying trend of lapses on his part. “Eh? What? Why didn’t you just say so?” He leaned forwards in his seat and grasped the reigns in his teeth, yanking his head back and pulling them taught. The four burly stallions drawing the bus along skidded to a stop, the back two bucking their legs to steady the heavy coach.
“Hey,” one of them called back over his shoulder, “what’s the hold up?”
“Sorry fellas.” Applejack tipped her hat to the four load-bearers and smiled coyly. “Thankin’ ya kindly for the favour.” She nodded to the driver as he kicked the lever that opened the door. “And may the rest of ya’ll have a pleasant afternoon.”
As the bus clattered off down the road, the pink bubblegum pony across the thoroughfare slid to a halt on her backside, her face splitting into a wide grin at the sight of her retuning friend.
“Pinkie Pie!” Applejack cantered across the road, delight etched onto every line on her face. “Ah missed ya, you giggling loon!” Pinkie Pie cackled gleefully and twined her hooves around Applejacks’ shoulders, burying her muzzle-deep in a swathe of pink mane. Applejack surfaced long enough from the fuzzy avalanche to hear a high-pitched cry of, “BIG SISTER!” Before a filly with a light olive coat and pink bow latched onto her neck with a grip like a vice powered by familial affection.
“Hi to ya’ll too Apple Bloom.” Applejack scrubbed the back of her little sisters’ neck with one hoof and an affectionate chortle. She started a moment as she felt a slight pressure against her stomach, glancing down to see the pale unicorn filly Sweetie Belle beaming up at her, intent on joining in the group hug.
Which left the pegasus, Scootaloo hanging back by the side of the road, scuffing the ground with a hoof and making faux gagging noises. “Urgh, come on guys can the lovey dovey stuff alright?”
“Whoops,” Pinkie Pie giggled, “looks like Scootaloo is feeling left out. Come on girls; let’s get her in the pile!”
Despite the protests of the laws of mass and muscle density Pinkie Pie managed to heft the group over to the weakly protesting pegasus as she feebly tried to stumble back out of the way. It seemed physics were for once stronger then Pinkie’s ability to defy them and the whole company of ponies collapsed into a giggling tangle of limbs.
Pinkie Pie surfaced first, somehow having acquired Applejacks’ hat in the melee. “Welcome back AJ! In case you couldn’t tell, we missed you heaps.”
o--O(0)O--o
“So tell me then Pinkie Pie.” Applejack trotted along at the head of the queue after they’d managed to disentangle themselves. “What are you an’ the Cutie Mark Crusaders doin’ out an’ about this time a’ day?”
“Chaperoning them into town for the show of course,” said Pinkie Pie, “we’re going into Ponyville for fun, fun, fun. Gonna’ watch a puppet show with everyone. All the ponies will be there at this time of day, for the show we’re gonna see is the bestest play!” she sang as she skipped along behind the farmpony.
“A puppet show?” Applejack wrinkled her nose in perplexed amusement. “That really a big enough reason for a song there Pinkie?”
“You’ve been away for a while so I’m going to ignore that remark,” said Pinkie Pie, “it’s been playing in town for some time now and ohmigosh is it great? Yes it is! The Cutie Mark Crusaders have been going every afternoon. And like half of Ponyville besides. You just wait Applejack, you come with us and Pinkie will show you right enough just why everypony who’s anypony is coming to see it!”
“That’s if’n you want to sis,” chimed in Apple Bloom. “Ah’m sure you’re wantin’ to git back to the farm with your bags soon as you can.”
Applejack grunted her affirmation, but in truth she was not so thoroughly keen to return to the farm as she’d first thought back on the bus. Technically her trip to Trottingham qualified as a holiday, but in between coordinating the pointless feud Auntie Crumble seemed to be maintaining with Cousin Braeburn, keeping her various Uncles from wandering off to the races and babysitting far too many foals she was only tangentially related to, she hadn’t had much time to relax at all. And she just knew that despite Big Macintosh’s best efforts (bless his giant heart for all that he tried) she would have more than enough work to return home to.
A quiet afternoon with her friends was looking quite the preferable alternative.
“Pinkie Pie seems so keen to sell this thing to me,” she said as they drew abreast of the edge of town, “reckon Ah’d be remiss to pass on it after all that.”
“Oki Doki Loki,” Pinkie Pie trilled gesturing with a sweep of her hoof, “Cutie Mark Crusaders, let’s move out!”
“You don’t get to say that,” muttered Scootaloo, “you’re not a Crusader. Didn’t take the initiation or nothin’.”
“Come on Scootaloo, let her have this one,” hissed Sweetie Belle, “it makes her so happy.”
o--O(0)O--o
On a park bench on the edge of the town square a green-furred earth pony was taking a nap.
She had her chin resting on her fore-hooves and a pair of large circular glasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose. A long black mane hung low around her lime-coloured shoulders, the bulk of it around her ears sticking up at awkward angles. A snuffled whistling noise emitted from her nostrils in time with her breathing, lightly fogging up the inside of her glasses.
Her cutie mark was six white lines in a circle, curled in towards a central point.
A shadow fell over her face as a pony stood with her back to the sun, causing the green mare’s nose to crinkle in annoyance. “Can I... help you?” she murmured sleepily. “Only you’re... messing with my rays.”
The other pony cleared her throat with a feigned theatrical cough. “I’m sorry to inform you Miss, but you can’t sleep here.”
“Oh, yeah?” The green mare shifted and rolled onto her back, her glasses hanging slack by the arms and her mane pooled on the ground as she jiggled into a more comfortable position. “Cause’ I seem to be doing an okay job of it so far.” She grinned and cranked her eyelids open, leering up through her lenses at the silhouette of the other mare.
“I meant you aren’t allowed to sleep on a public bench,” the other pony huffed, “you’re making the place look untidy.” The silhouette leaned in closer. “Wait a second; aren’t you involved with the puppet troupe? Shouldn’t you be preparing for the show?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing? This is how I get the creative juices all churning in the spaces behind my oculars. ‘Sides, what are you anyway? The bench police?”
“Head of the Ponyville Community Watch actually,” said the silhouette smugly, “and you are in direct violation of at least...”
“Hi Bon Bon!” The silhouette turned away, distracted as the sound of her name resounded across the public square. Five ponies were passing by, Applejack at their head. She tipped her hat and beamed. “Ah’m back.”
“Hello Applejack,” said the silhouette, as she twisted to face the familiar farmpony, “how was the reunion?”
“Bout’ the same as usual and then some and as much fun as pulling teeth. Whatcha’ up to?”
The mare smiled grimly. “Keeping things tidy and altogether, naturally. If only somepony would take the hint.” Bon Bon rolled her eyes good-naturedly and brought her attention back to the lounging pony on the bench. “Now you...”
The bench was empty.
The green pony had absconded.
Applejack turned back to Pinkie Pie. “Alright Pinkie, we’re here; now where’s this show at?”
The bubble-gum pony grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Oh don’t you worry AJ, Pinkie has this all in hoof. Just let Auntie Pie be your guide to this spectacle of wonderment and then you’ll see.”
“If ya say so.”
Pinkie Pie bounded ahead of the group, humming tunelessly.
In the early afternoon the streets of Ponyville were lit by the golden glow of the slowly sinking sun as it slinked silently towards the horizon tracing long shadows with gently flickering fingers of light. Ponies were gathered on every street corner and beneath the eaves of the buildings; the air was full of the sound of animated conversation. And yet, despite the warmth and cheery atmosphere (and more than a few ponies caught sight of Applejack and paused to tip her a friendly nod, a wave or a light touch on the shoulder) there was something about the crowds that did not sit quite right with the orange mare.
“Hey, Pinkie?” Applejack asked tentatively, “does it seem like there’re more fancy lookin’ unicorns about then usual?” And indeed horns did seem to be the prevalent theme about town. Needless to mention that some of those bearing the magic head spikes seemed somewhat better dressed than the norm for Ponyvillians (when they bothered at all).
Pinkie Pie laughed. “Well of course there are! Ponies have been coming to town ever since the show moved here from Canterlot. I’ve been throwing parties every other day!” She hopped along backwards, gesticulating with her fore hooves in wild pinwheels that just barely managed to avoid clipping any nearby ears. “They all brought their families too so there’s been sooo~ many foals to play with. Isn’t that right Crusaders!?”
The response from the Cutie Mark Crusaders was less than enthusiastic. “I guess,” Scootaloo mumbled, “but they’ve all got rich families so it’s not like they want anything to do with us.”
“One of ‘em said Ah sounded like her gardener,” added Apple Bloom, “what’s that s’posed to mean anyway?”
“It means they haven’t got any proper orchards in Canterlot,” said Sweetie Belle, brushing up against her friend, “they don’t know a real farm pony accent when they hear it.”
Applejack tendered the fillies a warm grin, and then rounded on Pinkie Pie again. “There something else you not tellin’ me there Pinkie? Only Ah’m of the impression there’s more to this here show then you let on.”
The pink mare merely winked and sauntered away down the gleaming sweep of the dirt road.
o--O(0)O--o
The old Ponyville fairgrounds hadn’t been put to official use since the last world fair had come to town.
The time had long since passed since that fateful day, not that anypony neither thought nor cared to remember. Princess Celestia had seen to that. But in the deepest achieves of the Investigations Bureau there still lay a file chronicling the so-called ‘War of the Red Noses,’ something of a black-mark on the resume of an otherwise peaceful town. The scuffles and counter-skirmishes of that brief, dark time were numerous; from the guerrilla pie bombardment on Melody Hill and the ensuing turnabout pastry fusillade, to the signing of the Treaty of Apples following an order to cease the use of helium against civic leaders to the effect of mass-induced hilarity and the tainting of the well with a carbonated orange product still being studied by duly assigned Top Ponies to this very day.
Even after the fact there were many as still could look at a rainbow wig or a cream pie and not suppress a shudder. It was decided through general consensus that some things were best left forgotten.
At any rate the current introduction of a pastel tent sprouting up from the green like a giant novelty mushroom certainly looked the part for a large scale attraction. It wouldn’t have surprised newcomers to the town that this was an event that drew an auspiciously large crowd. Though the wooden billboard over the entrance proclaiming in a bright shiny font that the ‘Skaian Players welcomed one and all to the critically acclaimed production of Squiddles!’ whereby the bright colour palette and smiling purple cephalopod with its arms outstretched, making it clear to one and all that there were chambers aplenty in all three of its hearts for Equestrians big and small, spoke volumes as to the intended age of its attendees. They appeared not to have anticipated the periphery demographic.
One such was a Canterlot born and bred unicorn mare who nonetheless was known far better for her work around the Ponyville surrounds then the mountain city of her birth, where her name was more akin to that of something trodden in at three in the morning on a bluegrass lawn. Regardless, the mare had no qualms with this perception of her character; she was more than comfortable with the anonymity which living among the sleepy townsfolk afforded.
Twilight Sparkle stalked across the grass, smiling at nothing very much but the persistent buzz of thoughts cluttering the pan of her thinking organ. She sashayed through the crowds of ponies already lining the grounds, nodding absentmindedly at faces she recognized as she passed by. In truth she was more invested in mulling over the layout for the afternoon’s entertainment and the chaperoning system that had been put in place to ensure no foals were lost in the assembly of pony bodies (and guess what a clever mare it was who put such a system in place, go on guess!) and frankly it was beginning to get a little impractical as the show was nearing its conclusion and the influx of Canterlot visitors exhibited no signs of abating any time soon. Both the inns and hotels and the occasional fortunate pony with a room to let were surely doing a roaring trade in the deluge, but the tent was starting to become dangerously overcrowded and the safety considerations for everypony involved was naturally something she took upon herself to iterate to the Mayor and anypony else who could stand to take a lecture on the quality and standards of equine evacuation procedures. The Skaian Players had been quite good about it thus far, extending and redesigning the layout of the audience’ seating arrangements on an almost daily basis; their resident carpenter had displayed an uncommon talent for building on the fly.
And so it was quite fortunate indeed that these considerations took up much of the think-space in her overtaxed noggin and she was able to put out of mind the fact that Pinkie Pie (designated chaperone of the Cutie Mark Crusaders for today) was presently three minutes late and, oh Celestia, she was THREE AND A HALF minutes late and time was swiftly counting down to the MATINEE and, oh my goodness, where was she where was she WHERE WAS SHE?!
Twilight rose on her hind legs and scanned the crowds like a neurotic periscope, ears flopping back and forth as her head snapped around at any trace of the telltale pink of her good and TARDY friend.
“Heya Twilight!” said an upbeat voice right behind her, who’s innocent, lilting tone did nothing to prevent the unicorn all but turning a somersault with a yelp of alarm, “whatcha’ lookin’ for?”
Twilight whirled around as her heart beat a samba against her ribcage, coming nose to nose with Pinkie Pie and her entourage. “You’re late!” she snapped by way of a greeting, which Pinkie took in stride as one who had received this remark as often as a hello. “What held you up this time?” She added an eye roll to the query to hopefully emphasize to the vibrant mare that this was undoubtedly the last time she’d tolerate this behaviour and any excuses made would have to hold up against intense scrutiny.
“Just picking up a new recruit,” Pinkie giggled, hopping to one side with a flourish. “Tada!”
Applejack smiled sheepishly as the CMC clustered around her legs. “Hi Twilight,” she said, gently rubbing the tip of one hoof against her back calf with an embarrassed chuckle. “Mighty sorry ‘bout causin’ a holdup.”
“Applejack!” Twilight’s eyes lit up and she beamed, all previous antipathy immediately discarded as she swept up against the Earth pony with a warm but chaste embrace. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. How long have you been back? Did you have a good time? How were all the Apples? Well, haha, I mean your family of course, not the fruit which I’m sure must have been excellent with so many good cooks around. Though too many cooks spoil the broth as they say, which must go for apple strudel too I guess. But then many hooves make for lighter work, so I suppose when you get right down to it the primary goal of any working relationship is find an appropriate balance...” She faltered when Applejack gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “I’m babbling aren’t I?”
Applejack nuzzled her cheek. “Little bit.”
“Heh.” Twilight broke away and awkwardly shuffled back a couple of steps. “It’s great to have you back, is what I’m trying to say.”
“Ah know.” Applejack adjusted the spread of her saddlebags across her back with a shrug of her shoulders. “Wish Ah coulda’ brought ya’ll back a present but Ah’ve been mighty busy while away.”
“Just seeing you back is enough. Because the true gift of friendship is one that cannot be compared to any material...” The eternal student’s easy slide into lecture mode was cut off abruptly by the heavy bass thrum that began to emanate from the tent on the green. “Oh gosh, it’s starting already? I got so distracted.”
“I’ll say,” said Pinkie Pie, “you’ve gone and lost Spike.” She pointed at the spot of empty air in the space above Twilight’s back and outlined with her hooves a rough shape that could very well be assumed to resemble a dragon (or a duck given one’s interpretation of the gesture which would no doubt have opened up a great deal of discussion on the qualities of Pinkie Pie’s competency as a charade partner, but I digress).
“Oh, he’s with Fluttershy this time,” said Twilight with an airy wave of her hoof, “her and Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon at any rate. He said something about not wanting to sit with me because I talk too much which is simply not true. I just occasionally choose to make quiet observations about the show as and when tacit information becomes available because there’s a lot of subtly to the writing and I just want to make sure he understands it all because context is vital to understanding the underlying themes of the Squiddles! internal mythos.” The two Earth Ponies merely nodded politely and took up station either side of the slight mulberry mare, gently guiding her towards the tent entrance alongside the growing press of ponies.
Applejack stepped smartly into the darkened interior of the tent, more than a little surprised by the decided lack of any admission fees after how played up Pinkie Pie had made the show sound. There were just a couple of brawny stallions to either side of the ingress directing the crowds to their seats on the stacked tiers that curved around the stage, Applejack let her eyes stray up to the ceiling where thick fluffy clouds had been tethered to allow for seating of the pegasus ponies.
Biting back the bitter taste of envy for the comfort of the cumulus pouffes, Applejack allowed herself to be lead down to the seats closer to the raised dais where the foals and their chaperones were apparently expected to sit. She turned to look at the central stage once again.
And what a stage it was; the quality of the workponyship on the pillars standing to either side of the thick red velvet curtain belied their practicality with images of smiling anthropomorphised squids tangling together around cakes and candy and books and other such wholesome iconography that it did much to conceal the ropes and winches and gears set into the back of them, serving only Celestia knew what arcane purpose.
It was a far cry from anything she had imagined from the simple phrase ‘puppet show,’ which prior to being lead to this edifice only consciously reminded Applejack of something she’d once seen in Manehatten as a filly, whereby a pony in a decorated box had performed with a couple of hoof puppets that had seemed curiously preoccupied with hitting one another with sticks. The then young Applejack had only seen a snippet of the performance before being lead away by sternly tutting adults.
This was... something else entirely.
Pinkie Pie was jiggling up and down on her seat, casting excited glances towards her orange friend, as if she expected some kind of immediate revelation to occur when the show started. Twilight Sparkle had been swept along with the group as a third supporting chaperone (and given the rambunctious nature of the CMC this may have been a happy quirk of fate), she was staring at the stage intently and gnawing on her lower lip, all her concentration focused on the curtain.
Some silent order passed between the door stallions then as the last pony was seated, and they set about covering the firefly lamps lighting the interior of the tent as all remaining radiance affixed upon the stage and the low murmuring that had suffused the space dropped down to a hushed tittering.
Then the music started.
“Squiddle-ee dee, Squiddle-ee dum, everyone sing, a Squiddle-ee song,”
Applejack sunk low in her seat almost immediately, the shrill piping melody completely at odds with the sense of stately design that the interior of the tent had conveyed, suddenly she felt very self conscious surrounded by all these foals.
“Let’s all be friends, and work as a team. Squiddles for you, Squiddles for meee~!”
Her cheeks flaring red beneath bristling orange fur, Applejack ducked lower and tugged the brim of her hat down over her eyes. This had to be some kind of a joke right? Okay, maybe she could see Pinkie Pie taking something this downright silly with good humour but honestly there was no chance Twilight Sparkle of all ponies could think this was quality entertainment. Somepony was pulling her leg and she’d fallen for it alright. There was no way in Tartarus that something with a theme song like that could have any social or artistic merit whatsoever!
Then the music changed.
A sleek note from a violin cut through torpor of the childish tune, followed by a low pulsing beat that bulled through the last of the resonant notes. A piano and a guitar soon joined in the theme and the song began anew as something altogether quite apart from the ersatz beginning.
And with that note in mind, as Applejack sat up straight again, shocked by the turnaround, the show began.
o--O(0)O--o
Up among the support beams of the canvas heart of the Squiddles! tent a lone cloud had broken free from its tether. It stuck among the rafters like a carelessly thrown marshmallow, so unassuming in its facade that it was unlikely that any pegasus would be up to scrape it off until after the show. This suited the lone figure sprawled on its belly atop the vapour plush just fine. Shrouded in a long coat that kept its fur out of view, it twisted in its seat and made certain its tail too was tucked out of sight, a stylish flat cap was rammed down over its ears so only by the faint flicker of its eyes in the dark could there even be considered to be a pony there at all.
Nevertheless, the figure curled into a more comfortable position and settled in to watch the show.
o--O(0)O--o
It was getting dark when Applejack finally set out for home. The shadows were long probing tendrils that stretched away across the fields, dogging her steps as she trotted along the dirt road from Ponyville proper. Apple Bloom dozed quietly from her perch atop Applejack’s shoulders, the easy rhythm of muscles shifting beneath her skin providing the gentle rocking motion that served as a physical lullaby to softly guide the sleepy filly to her personal dreamland. Applejack reached up and gently prodded the back of Apple Bloom’s hoof. “Almost home sugar. Jus’ you keep yer’ eyes open fer’ a few more minutes, mmkay hun?”
Apple Bloom yawned hugely and scrunched up her face. “Yah Ay-Jay.” She murmured, nuzzling her big sisters’ flaxen mane.
“Hey now,” Applejack chuckled, “dun’t you get too comfortable up there or ya’ll not sleep the night.”
Not that she was surprised by the filly’s fatigue. Pinkie Pie had insisted on hustling them away to the Carousel Boutique after the show, whereupon a homecoming soiree had preceded them. Applejack had politely feigned surprise on stepping through the door to a rather untraditional party against the pink equine’s usual aesthetic preference, apparently since the Cake’s young twins were sleeping at Sugar Cube corner Pinkie wasn’t as free to her usual bombastic style as was the norm and so had been forced to cohabitate with Rarity, resulting in an unusual compromise of clashing themes.
Nevertheless Applejack had appreciated the effort, and the mere act of spending the remainder of the afternoon in the company of her best friends was something she would not have traded for the world.
Apple Bloom shifted on her shoulders, breaking through Applejack’s reverie by blowing a wet raspberry in her ear. “Hey Applejack. What didja think of the show?” She leant forward, tiny hooves worrying at the gamboge tufts on her sister’s withers. “Didja have fun? Are ya gonna be comin’ with us again next time?”
“Is it a regular thing?” Applejack huffed, noncommittal.
“Every afternoon.” Apple Bloom searched her sisters’ face for any flicker of interest. The earth mare’s mouth was set in a hard line, giving nothing. “An seein’ it with you would be more fun than Twilight, no offence to her, mind, but she gits pretty chatty at times.”
“Ah, well.” Applejack nodded sagely. “Don’t pay her no mind now, it’s just her way. She has so many thoughts buildin’ up in her head they just start to spill out any old time.” She spared her sister a sideways look, catching a glancing blow off a masterfully executed quivery-lipped pout and watery eye combo. “As fer the show, well,” she said hurriedly, cocking her head on one side and searching the sky for the right words to say.
In all honesty it had neither qualified as the primary focus of the day nor the supreme highlight to an enjoyable afternoon. In fact most of what had occurred seemed to pass through her travel-weary mind in a fading cacophony of swirling colour and noise. Admittedly the backdrops had been very pretty; resplendent in deep sea greens and ocean blues, somehow the puppeteers had assembled innumerable fireflies in jars of different hues to shade the entire interior of the tent in a manner that had left her breathless with awe as the intimate sensation of the oppressive depths of the sea had suffused the space about her. The puppets themselves had moved in such a fluid manner that Applejack could only assume they were enchanted (“A four-hundred and thirteen kiloThaum Come-To-Life spell with extended duration Geppinto [sic] enchantment by way of a blue spectrum filter, if I’m not mistaken” – Twilight Sparkle). There had also been a pony puppet with a spiralling metal horn in a large, riveted steam ship that she had taken for the show’s antagonist, she recalled his voice was so insidious and cold that it had struck her to the core of her soul like a shard of dark ice from the inky pits deep within the ravine of a long forgotten arctic wasteland driven right into the seat of animal fear in her mind, and she suppressed a shudder even now at the memory.
She was made aware from Apple Bloom’s irritable squirming that she had been silent for far too long.
Applejack gave a light chuckle and inclined her head. “Alright sis ya twisted mah arm. Ah’ll come with.”
Apple Blooms’ own arms found their way around her sisters’ neck as she gave a small yip of glee. “Thanks Ay-Jay, Ah know ya’ll have fun.”
“Ah’m sure Ah shall.” Applejack trotted towards the farm as it began to emerge on the dark horizon. There was a pale glow in the windows, and the ghostly scent of freshly baked onion and potato pie stroked its siren fingers across her nostrils. Her mouth watered and she had the presence of mind to lick a fleck of drool off her lower lip.
Apple Bloom sniffed. “Granny’s cookin’ up fer your homecoming sis. Reckon it’ll be about done by now.”
“Ah reckon you may be right.” Applejack grinned. “C’mon, gee up little pony!”
Her sister laughed high and loud as the orange mare reared up and galloped down the way to hearth and home.
o--O(0)O--o
Applejack lay on her bed, cushioned on a belly full to bursting with Granny Smith’s home cooking, a broad smile plastered on her lips beneath droopy eyelids.
She chortled and rolled onto her back, lulled by the quiet sounds of her family moving around the house, Big Mac’s heavy hoof falls alone making the whole building groan in protest. There was a certain euphoria to be found here that hadn’t been there in her Trottingham accommodations which had consisted of a spare room in Auntie Crumble’s home that may or may not have been a shoe closet prior to her arrival, which she had had to share with two young cousins and a near perpetually slumbering great aunt so old she had, on one rare moment of waking, asked after somepony she referred to as ‘Young Smith.’
Applejack snapped up straight with a wince as her stomach panged in protest; of course, there was work to be doing tomorrow and little enough time left to be spent ruminating.
Cradling her swollen gut with one hoof, Applejack swung herself off the bed and ambled across the room to set her hat on its customary hook. She unbound her mane and tail next, tugging off the ribbons in her teeth and letting the olive hair hang long and loose around her shoulders.
Applejack paused, then, on the threshold of leaping into bed but struck by the faintest notion that something was not quite right just yet. She was not, by definition a pony of leisure, that sort thing more what the likes of Rarity was better suited to. For her part, Applejack sought out practicality over luxury and wouldn’t have had time for anypony suggesting otherwise.
However...
She pawed open her closet door. What meagre stockpile of clothing assembled there was primarily a row of her various work duds for as and when they were required throughout the year: her cold weather gear hanging up next to her Winter Wrap Up vest, a waterproof poncho and an old duster coat that had changed hooves through at least three generations among them. But further along down the line was where she became less familiar. Dividing the two separate worlds of pragmatism and opulence (read: fancy schmancy) first up was an old green sundress, an aged gift way back when from an aunt who’d thought it’d match her eyes and worn a grand total of once. But the material was tough and dowdy, and over the years much of it had been cut and torn away for sowing patches and cloths. In its own way the raggedy thing was as much a beloved and well-used addition to the clothing rack as any other. Then there was her Gala dress, neatly pressed at Rarity’s insistence and stored away inside a protective cover for when next it should be called upon to serve the cause of swank. Applejack smiled faintly at that thought and pushed aside another of Rarity’s concoctions (and how many of these were from that ritzy unicorn anyway? Sure was a generous soul) until her hoof brushed up against something sleek and soft, that rippled like water at her touch.
She took the hanger carefully in teeth and pulled the article from her closet, reverentially laying it down on her duvet.
Splayed out before her was as fine a set of silk pyjamas as you could find. A birthday present of several years previous, Applejack couldn’t even call to mind who had been the one to gift them; they glistened in luxuriant burnished gold, a differently tinted icon on the centre of the breast depicting a crescent moon.
Glancing around warily, as though even now there would be some disapproving Apple gaze watching through the window for this gross pandering to upper class sleepwear, Applejack pulled the top on over her head, the cool fabric sliding easily over the fur on her shoulders. The leggings next, she pulled them up to her waist so then, with but a moment of awkward shuffling, her tail flowed out of the hole in the back and spilled out over the smooth fabric like a waterfall of wheat grain.
Dropping the hanger on her desk, Applejack crossed to her bed, wriggled under the covers and allowed for a look of warm bliss to spread across her face as she snuggled into her pillow.
It was good to be home.
Presently, she fell asleep.
And dreamed.
