“Applejack! C’mon down, girl. We ain’t got all night!”
Granny Smith waited. There was no response. Dinner was getting cold.
“Macintosh,” she said, “go fetch your little sister.”
“Eeyup.” The colt made his plodding way upstairs.
Granny watched his shadow bob along the unpainted walls her father had built.. Macintosh had always kept to himself, but in the weeks since the accident he had crossed the line from quiet to withdrawn. He wasn’t making trouble like his sister, but somehow that only made it harder to reach out to him.
She let her eyes drift to Apple Bloom, sound asleep in her playpen. She, at least, was too young to understand what had happened. Some days Granny was grateful for that. Other days it seemed horribly unfair that the baby would never know her parents.
The foals thumped their way down the stairs. Macintosh never looked up, but Applejack cast a sullen glare her way. “I don’t gotta do what you tell me,” she said. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I oughta finish packing, anyhow.”
“When you’re in Manehattan you can do as you trotting well please,” Granny snapped. “Tonight you’re still in my house. Now come on and eat your dinner.”
Applejack deflated, but her glower never wavered. The foals followed her into the dining room. The three of them ate wordlessly. Granny was used to staying quiet at dinner while her daughter told one of her stories. Her supply of legends and tall tales had seemed endless, but now there was only an uncanny void in its place. The pain kept hitting her from unexpected angles.
“I found your pa’s hat,” Granny said to break the silence. “I reckon one of y'all oughta keep it.”
She almost missed the flash of desire in Macintosh’s eyes, there and gone in an instant before his composure slid back into place. He glanced at Applejack. “You can have it.”
Applejack scowled. “I don’t want some stupid hat.”
They plunged back into silence.
“Granny,” said Macintosh, “can you tell us a story?”
Granny Smith was taken aback. She didn't know how many times she had seen Applejack and Macintosh curled up with their mother, listening to her tell about Tawny Appleseed or the Great Stampede . The thought of telling such a story herself was...
Well, maybe it was exactly what they needed. “Reckon I could,” she said. “Reckon I could.”
She cleared her throat. “A long time ago, way back when, there was no princess in Equestria. Those were hard times. Unicorns had to move the sun and the moon, and unicorns ain’t built to do nothing that big. The days were uneven. Some were too long and some were too short. The seasons didn’t work quite how they ought, neither. Worse, without a princess, ponies argued and fought. But I suppose that there’s a different story.
“Anyhow, the princesses arrived. They’d been traveling the cosmos, doing whatever it is princesses do. The three of 'em found Equestria, and they—”
“Hold up,” said Applejack. “Three princesses?”
“Yep. There was Celestia, of course. She had two younger sisters, then. There was Luna, the princess of the moon. And there was Terra, the princess of the earth. She was the little sister. Didn't have her cutie mark yet, although she was just about the age to find it.”
“That ain’t what they say in school!” Applejack said. “Miss Sharpener says there's one princess. Celestia controls the sun and the moon, and ponies control the earth.”
Granny glared at her. “Who’s telling this story, you or me?” When Applejack didn’t answer, she went on. “Right, then. Where was I? Yes, the princesses. They came, and they put the world in order. With Celestia and Luna watching the heavens, night and day finally worked right. Terra made the earth bloom. She directed the seasons and made crops grow. The rest of us ponies didn’t have to do much of anything.
“Didn’t last, of course. Sooner or later, they lost Luna. The others were sad, and—”
“What happened to Luna?” said Macintosh.
Granny Smith blinked. “Don’t rightly know,” she said. “Story’s old. Some bits got misplaced.”
Macintosh nodded.
“Well, there were two princesses left,” Granny went on. “Terra wanted to leave Equestria, but Celestia wouldn’t have it. She said they had to take care of all the ponies. Terra weren’t listening, though. She just had to get away from anything that reminded her of Luna. Didn’t much care what she left behind, mind you. Even her own family just reminded her of what she'd lost.”
Applejack pushed herself to her hooves. She stomped to the door, hurled it open, and darted into the hall. Her hoofsteps pounded up the stairs to her room.
The door eased back and forth on creaking hinges. “Land sakes,” Granny muttered. “What am I gonna do with that filly?”
Macintosh spoke even slower than usual. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“If she wants to.” Granny's eyes were still on the empty doorway. “Even then, could take a while.”
Silence lingered for a moment before Macintosh replied. “What happened to the princesses?”
She paused to gather herself. “Celestia weren’t about to leave her ponies. Someone had to take care of 'em. She told Terra she was staying, no matter what. The two of them parted ways, that day. Terra left. Celestia was already in charge of the sun and the moon, but even she couldn't handle the earth, too. That's why we ponies have to do it, instead. With Terra gone, there ain't no one else to handle the weather and the seasons and all that.” She shrugged. “Reckon that's about it. Celestia's here and always will be. Terra's out there somewhere in the sky, doing what she does.”
Macintosh was looking at her with wide eyes. “Will she come back?”
“Someday,” said Granny Smith. “Someday.”
