Staring out the train window, Sunrise didn't see the desert changing to meadows, didn't see buttes give way to hills, cacti to trees, sand to grass.
All she could see was the apple, the big, round, red apple on Braeburn's flank when she'd come slowly, gently, smilingly awake after the best night's sleep she'd had in—months? Years? Ever, maybe?
Still muddy but warm and dry, she'd opened her eyes, had turned to grin across the room at the stallion she'd gotten to know better in those couple hours the night before than any other pony outside her immediate family—
And the apple had practically popped off his hide at her, had smacked her in the head with a sting she could still feel all these hours later.
She had only two real memories of the moments after that: standing with her hindquarters pressed against the shack's rough wooden door, her gaze snapping back and forth between the unmistakable apple of that cutie mark and the quietly snoring face of the sweet and soft-spoken guy who'd saved her life; and running, the morning sky so perfect and blue and clear overhead that she wanted to shriek at it, wanted to scream that it was a liar and a cheater and a betrayer.
Sprinting, she'd reached the Appleloosa city limits sign after about ten minutes, her mind all the while refusing to think about why her face felt wet even though nothing remained of the rain except the sudden rash of tiny yellow and purple wildflowers that had apparently sprung up overnight to cover the scrub brush and give the air a sweet, tangy scent. She'd stormed into the hotel, reared back, slammed her hooves and about half a pound of mud onto the front desk, fixed her glare on the earth pony gaping at her there, and had informed him that she'd lost her key but would like to retrieve her luggage so she could check out as quickly as possible.
If he'd been any less accommodating, Sunrise would've had a target for the heat simmering just behind her face, would've been able to focus on him and let loose the foulest stream of obscenities this backward burg had likely ever experienced. But he'd grabbed a skeleton key from the desk, had scrambled upstairs and returned almost immediately with her bag in his teeth. She'd scooped some random amount of coins out, had rushed to the train station like her tail was on fire, slapped down another bunch of coins, and had spent the last she-didn't-know-how-many hours not seeing the scenery.
Just the apple. Nothing but the apple.
"Ponyville!" a deep voice called out, and Sunrise snapped back to the present, the conductor making his way down the center aisle of the car. "Ponyville's the next station stop!"
Which was when she realized she hadn't washed up yet, her feathers all askew, and her mane a mess. Staring at her reflection in the carriage window, she could even see the tracks in the dirt on her face from her tears.
No! Strawberry Sunrise didn't cry! She made other ponies cry!
Like when she accused kind, gentle, friendly, helpful ponies who'd just saved her life of wanting to molest her. Or when she called those same ponies doormats and implied that she found them ugly.
Except he'd laughed, hadn't he? Had sliced right through her defenses, had pushed her pettiness aside, had treated her like she wasn't an obnoxious wretch, had—
Had told her she had a nice smile. Even after everything she'd said to him...
The train was passing through town now, was slowing, taking the curve just before the station, and Sunrise suddenly wanted to be anywhere other than here. Well, not anywhere, of course: she was absolutely never going near Appleloosa again, for instance.
But apples and Ponyville had a very strong association, too, one that had always made her grind her teeth when she passed through the market square on her way to her family's strawberry fields on the other side of town from Sweet Apple Acres. Before, seeing members of the Apple family parading around with various princesses, getting honors from the mayor, their produce stand outselling all others according to the figures released by the Chamber of Commerce, all that would just make Sunrise vow silently to spread the word about strawberries even more fervently. But now?
Pulling into the station, the train lurched to a stop, the early afternoon sunlight washing across her and reflecting her damp, wavering eyes back from the window. She growled, wiped a fetlock at them, pushed herself from her seat, and grabbed her bag. Out on the platform, she felt like everypony was staring at her, but when she glared around with her lips pulled back to make it easier in case she needed to start shouting, she didn't meet any other pairs of eyes.
Because nopony cares about you, an awful little whisper hissed in the deepest, darkest part of her head. And why should they?
She wanted to growl some more, but instead she stomped off the platform, through the station, and out onto the street. Was it her fault the world was unfair in every single way?
"Sunrise!" an all-too-familiar voice rang out behind her, and Sunrise froze, started thinking up a whole new set of adjectives to use for the world. Because of course the first pony she ran into after this disaster had to be—
"Roan," she said through her teeth. Turning, she clenched her teeth even tighter to see her older brother trotting toward her with their cousin Bramble beside him.
His smile fell, his eyes narrowing, and Sunrise's knees threatened to buckle. Not that she was going to let anything like that happen, but she couldn't help wincing at the thought of how horrible she must look, mud dry and itchy all up and down her hide. "What happened to you?" Roan asked.
So many words crowded into the back of her throat, she almost choked. But she swallowed them, took a breath, and forced herself only to say, "Nothing worth mentioning."
Bramble was openly staring, her scent sour and salty at the same time. "We were just talking about the surprisingly good deals you got in Dodge Junction." A smirk tugged at Bramble's lips. "I'm guessing things didn't go so well in Appleloosa."
Any other time, Sunrise would've happily unleashed her tongue. Cousin Bramble had always been every bit as prickly as her namesake, and growing up together, Sunrise had gotten to enjoy sparring verbally with her. Well, not enjoy it. She didn't really like her cousin all that much, and she was sure the feeling was mutual—
Because, that nasty little voice in the back of her head murmured, you feel the same way about everypony as everypony feels about you, right? As filled with joy as a trip to the dentist...
It took several more swallows before Sunrise could get out, "I'll have a complete report on your desk by lunchtime tomorrow, Roan. But right now, if you'll excuse me, I need a long bath and an even longer nap."
Not waiting for a response, she turned away and began her slog home, half hoping and half afraid that he would call out after her.
He didn't, and she made it home without anypony else calling to her, either. She spent about an hour in the tub, draining and refilling the thing four times with the hottest water she could stand, only splashing out when she started feeling like she'd boiled away the last of the mud. Wrapped in her big red robe, she chewed at a spinach, arugula, and strawberry salad while doing everything she could to think about nothing at all, then she crawled into bed. It took a while of very specifically telling herself how much more comfortable she was here than in, say, a drafty wooden hut with a straw mat, but she did finally fall asleep.
She'd never been one for recalling her dreams, and the first thing she did when blinking awake the next morning just after dawn was to thank Princess Luna that the night had passed just as uneventfully as usual. It was bad enough she could remember every minute of what had actually happened in Appleloosa without it smacking her in the head while she was asleep, too...
Her report took five drafts, the first four crumpled up and spat toward the trash basket beside her desk when they started wandering into personal areas she knew Roan wouldn't care about. Half a sentence was all she wanted, just a quick recommendation that the Strawberry Family send a donation to the Appleloosa Night Patrol to thank them for their work, for their professionalism, for their preparedness, their attention to detail, their devotion to their duties, their kind and gentle natures—
And into the trash it would go.
She did finally get it done, tucked it into her second-best saddlebags, and headed across town to the family house nestled in a little crook of the Whitetail Woods overlooking the strawberry fields the family had been working since coming here not long after Ponyville's founding. The sight and scent of the old homestead soothed her as always: the green spiky leaves, the red ripening fruit, the subtle sweetness drifting on the breeze.
Of course, Cousin Bramble lounging on the front porch swing like she owned the place dampened some of that, and her sharp little grin tightened Sunrise's stomach in a way it never had before. "Morning, Cousin!" Bramble stretched herself off the swing and tossed her strawberry blonde mane. "You're looking a little less scruffy at least."
"Not in the mood, Bramble." Usually, a session trading barely veiled insults with the other members of her family left Sunrise keyed up and invigorated, but right now, the only thing she wanted to do less than jab at Bramble was head back to Appleloosa.
"Really?" Somehow, Bramble's grin got even sharper. "Is the Strawberry Family's number-one salesmare slipping in her onrushing old age? Could it that younger, prettier, and more hard-working ponies might finally have a chance to slip in and take her crown?"
A reply that featured several different terms for excrement popped into Sunrise's head, but for some reason, it just made her vaguely embarrassed. "Do your best, Cousin," she said instead, pushing through the front door into the mud room.
Like always, Roan looked through her whole report while she stood there, and like always, he didn't offer her a sandwich or a glass of water or even a seat. For once, though, his casual disregard didn't set her hackles rising or her teeth gritting. Before, she'd taken his behavior as a goad toward a goal, his way of giving her something to aim for and aspire to: Some day, she used to imagine him saying by his actions, you might be important enough to treat other ponies like dirt, too!
But on that Tuesday afternoon, blinking at his impassive face on the other side of his polished oak desk as he flipped through the pages of her report, all she felt was tired. His bushy green eyebrows went up several times during the reading, and at the end, Sunrise wasn't surprised in the least when the question he asked was, "You lost your sample case?"
"Yes, Roan." She wanted to shout at him till she'd drilled a few more ear holes into his thick and bony skull, but the tangled memory of her plunge into that storm-swollen creek kept dripping cold and shivery at the edges of her mind and dowsing her usual burning cloud of anger before it could even start to spark. With a sigh, she just said, "I thought replacing a sample case might be easier than a replacing a spine or a rib cage."
He shrugged. "Well, we all have to set our own priorities, I suppose." His beige face twitched into something like a smile, but Sunrise couldn't detect a single bit of actual humor anywhere near it. "And the deals you managed to land in Dodge Junction will cover this whole Appleloosa fiasco well enough; we might even have a few bits we can contribute to this night patrol if you think it necessary."
Again, it took some effort to keep her voice down. "They did save my life."
All that got was another shrug before he folded the report closed and crossed his front hooves over it. "I'll approve issuing you a new sample case, but try not to make a habit of this sort of thing." With a crisp nod, he pulled open a desk drawer and slid the papers into it. "Now, you can still catch the 2:36 train to Vanhoover if you hurry."
"What?" At that, her inner fire flared up pretty substantially. "I almost died out there, Roan! And, yes, I know I don't mean anything to you as a family member or a pony or anything like that, but maybe you could pretend for just one scat-sucking minute that you care about me as a semi-valued employee?" Sunrise refused to let her words shake even though most of her body seemed to be. "Or even pretend that I'm more valuable than a sample case?"
His ears flicked. "What do you want, Sunrise? A medal for doing your job?"
Her throat threatened to squeeze closed, but again, she wasn't about to let that happen. "What I want, Roan, is a brother! A real, actual, genuine, cares-about-me brother!"
"I see." His face got even stonier. "And are you planning to start behaving like a real, actual, genuine, cares-about-anything-other-than-herself sister?"
Shock froze Sunrise for a moment, but just for a moment. "I care about plenty!" she shouted. "Strawberries, for instance!"
"Maybe the fruit." Roan waved a hoof. "But what about the ponies in the pictures I've got here? Do you even know their names?"
Staring around her, Sunrise noticed for the first time all the framed photos standing among the books that lined the walls. Aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, sure, but... "Names?" she repeated, the quiver finally penetrating her voice. "I...I...I—" Letting her head droop, she pulled in a breath, and even though she couldn't remember the last time she'd said it, she pushed out, "Please, Roan. I need a couple days off."
He made a little humming noise. "And I need somepony to go to Vanhoover."
"Bramble." Sunrise forced her head up and tried to look at him without glaring. "She's a hard worker, she's hungry to prove herself, and—" The words stuck in her throat as stickery as an artichoke. "And she's probably better with other ponies than I am." She couldn't stop a sideways grin. "I mean, she can't be any worse, right?"
Roan cocked his head, his smile a lot closer to a real smile. "Looks like we should've sent you into life-threatening peril years ago." He tapped his desk calendar. "How 'bout you come back next Monday? Or, y'know, any time before that to see if we can have another conversation without trying to bite each other's heads off."
"I'd like that," she said, and she was more than a little amazed to find that she meant it. Unsure what was supposed to happen next—nearly every talk she'd had with her brother over the past decade or more had ended with her shouldering her way out of his presence while loudly launching snide remarks back to drown out the snide remarks he was aiming at her—she finally shrugged, said, "Thanks, Roan," and left.
Bramble was still sitting on the front porch, her smile still absolutely phony. "Off into the wild blue yonder, then, Cousin?" she asked.
Sunrise bristled automatically—Bramble regularly dug at her for being a pegasus—but the oddly contented warmth that was wafting around inside her somehow wouldn't ignite into her usual burning unhappiness. So she just gestured over her shoulder and said, "Roan wants to see you. Have a nice trip."
Getting Bramble to look sour by being nice to her made Sunrise smile; she cantered down the porch steps and headed—
Home. Alone. Same as always.
Why had her life never bothered her before this? And why was it bothering her now?
That the answer to both these questions had the word 'apple' in it almost convinced her to do some stomping along Ponyville's quiet streets, and while the idea of closing herself up inside her empty little house seemed unappealing, well, she didn't have any other ideas. None that were even remotely realistic, at any rate.
She stopped off at Timothy Hay's cafe, bought a sandwich, and sat outside in the afternoon sunlight to eat it and watch the town go about its business. That killed maybe forty-five minutes, but after that...
Maybe she could see if Rarity had picked up any juicy gossip while Sunrise had been away? Except Rarity would likely ask what Sunrise had been up to, and that wasn't a subject Sunrise had any interest in addressing. So home it was.
The rest of the afternoon and evening, Sunrise lolled on her sofa and tried to finish a book she'd found on the train a few months ago, an action-adventure-romance thing that had been one of last year's best sellers. Unfortunately, though, every time the hero spoke, Sunrise heard a soft, countrified twang speaking the lines, and when she finally turned in after a supper of strawberries, oats, and kale, she decided that taking a week off was the worst idea she'd ever had in her whole entire life. Tomorrow morning, she'd head back to the fields and ask Roan if he had anything else that needed doing.
Waking the next morning, she once again breathed her thanks to Princess Luna for sparing her from any dreams, ate a quick breakfast, combed her mane, and washed her face. It was a new day, and she was determined not to let the past hold her back any longer. Nodding to herself in the mirror, she slung her saddlebags over her back, took a step toward the front door—
And somepony knocked on it.
"Braeburn..." Red blew out wunna her extra large sighs. "If'n you'd wanted me to think you was home last night, you shoulda stuffed pillows or something under the blankets on your bed to make it look like you was in it."
Standing in front of her desk, Braeburn flashed his best smile. "Could ya maybe pretend I did that, then?"
She looked at him over the top of her half glasses. "This ain't a game, Little Brother. You go gallivanting out in a storm like that, you're likely to get yerself hurt. I told you that and trusted you'd do the right thing. And you didn't."
Suddenly, holding that smile in place turned into the hardest thing he'd done in ages; he struggled a second, then let it drop. "I'm not a foal anymore, Red."
"Then stop acting like one." She turned her attention back to the paperwork. "I ain't much interested in being a parent, truth to tell, but you keep this sorta thing up, I'll ground you like Pappy used to."
"Ground me? But I—" Almost, Braeburn blurted out everything that'd happened during the storm last night, but for once in his life, he squeezed his fool mouth shut. Taking a breath and blowing it out, he said, "Look, Red, maybe...maybe I needta get away for a piece, do some thinking and some plain ol' apple bucking." It took some effort, but he managed to keep any bit of excitement off his face. "Maybe I could go visit Cousin Applejack. It'd get me out from underhoof here, and her and Granny Smith'd have plenty to keep me busy."
Red looked back up again. "'Scuse me? You're volunteering to work?"
His face went hot. "That ain't fair, Red. I don't shirk, and you know it."
She at least had the decency to twitch her ears back. "Well, we got work here, too, if'n you're so eager."
He'd already thought of an answer to that. "Work you won't let me do." He shook his head quickly. "Look, I don't wanna argue with you, Sis, but I know that's exactly what we're gonna be doing if'n I don't clear my head a little. We both trust Cousin Applejack: I know she won't baby me, and you know she won't let me do anything dangerous." Putting a pleading note into his voice was easy enough. "It'll just be a couple of days, a week at most. Then I'll be back, and we'll be okay."
That she still hadn't come right out and said 'no' got a little thrilling chill to rustle his mane, but it was a long stretch of just the big clock on the mantelpiece ticking before she said, "I'd miss you."
A lump wanted to clog his throat, but he snorted it away. "You mean you'd miss lording it over all them mares who come calling on you with pies and cakes and hay bales when they wanna pay court to me."
Her smile had a greedy edge. "I don't know what you could possibly be referring to." She tapped a hoof on the desk. "But it's a right fine idea, getting you up to Ponyville and under the eye of them wealthy city mares. They even got a princess now, don't they?" She winked. "Can't imagine you'd mind that too awfully."
And for all that she was starting to think the way he'd hoped she would, Braeburn still couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Red..."
"Just funning with you, Brother." Stretching, she stood from the desk. "Reckon I'll stroll on down to the telegraph office and send AJ a note asking if she wouldn't mind putting you up for a spell."
Braeburn somehow kept himself from hopping in place, but he did give Red a grin. "And I reckon I'll get a bag packed." He trotted across the room, held the door open for her, then started down the hallway; she was heading the opposite direction toward the front door, so he was very careful not to do any dance steps till he'd rounded the corner and got outta sight.
Because when he'd woke that morning to find Sunrise gone, he'd jumped right up and practically stampeded himself into town. He'd remembered her saying that the desk clerk at her hotel had warned about the storm, so he'd run from the Grand Appleloosan to the Palmer House to the Century Inn before Hash Browns at the front desk of the Best Western had finally known who he was talking about. Coal Porter at the train station had told him she'd bought a ticket to Ponyville, and Braeburn had let out a whoop to hear it. If she was from Ponyville, then Cousin Applejack'd know where to find her. He just had to get himself to Ponyville.
Which he was just about to do. Strawberry Sunrise wasn't like any other mare he'd ever met—funny and grouchy and still cute as a bug's ear—and even though she'd run off, he was one hundred percent sure that a straight-talker like her woulda told him she didn't wanna see him again if she didn't wanna see him again. And since she hadn't told him anything like that...
Packing his bag took all of twenty seconds, and he stretched himself over the sofa in his sitting room to wait for Red to get back.
And sure, he squirmed a little, thinking about the way he was lying to Red about all this. 'Cept he wasn't lying to her, not really. Not telling the whole unvarnished truth wasn't the same as lying—everypony knew that. And the way Red would wanna plant herself smack dab in the middle of Braeburn getting to know Sunrise better, well, he just plain didn't wanna think about how the two of them might get to butting heads. Maybe even literally if he knew his sister at all...
The minutes crept past, and Braeburn got to squirming even more. Because hadn't Sunrise said she didn't have any real friends? Which meant that if Cousin Applejack did know her—and she had to if Sunrise lived in Ponyville—then the two didn't like each other. He'd hafta keep back a bit of the truth from AJ, too, looked like.
He snorted. Why did ev'rything hafta be so complicated?
By the time the minutes had multiplied out to an hour, Braeburn had gotten up three or four times to repack his bag. He wasn't trying to impress Sunrise, after all, so he didn't need his best hat and the vest that hugged his sides and made his barrel look so neat and trim. He was just...just...
Yeah, okay, so maybe he was trying to impress her a mite. His second-best hat'd be fine, but back into the bag went the vest.
Lunchtime came straggling in, and Braeburn rushed to the kitchen to slather himself together a quick sandwich before getting back to his room so he'd be there when Red told him he could go. And when she hadn't shown up a half hour after that, he found his eyes getting heavy the way they always did this time of day. He swore he'd only set his chin on his hooves for a second, but then he was starting awake to the clock softly chiming five.
Red blinked at him when he rushed into her office. "I just sent the telegram, Bray. We still gotta wait for her to answer, y'know?"
That night positively crawled, and while he didn't usually remember his dreams and didn't that night either, he did wake up with a powerful hankering for strawberries.
Not that they had any: he'd only tasted 'em at the county fair once or twice, now that he thought about it...
Extra cinnamon and sugar on his apple pancakes weren't the same, but Braeburn gave it a try, sitting with the resta the family in the chow hall where he could see the front walk in case Dashin' Dot from the telegraph office might stop by with AJ's reply. Instead, though, Little Strongheart came running up, pounding on the door, waving her hooves and looking mighty alarmed about something when Cousin Marigold answered.
Marigold brought Strongheart into the chow hall, and the little buffalo told ev'rypony that wunna of the tribe's calves had gone missing in the storm two nights ago. The buffalo hadn't been able to find him, so they were hoping—
Red didn't even give Strongheart time to finish before she was jumping to her hooves and calling out the names of squad leaders for search patrols. She didn't call his name, of course, but Braeburn caught his breath when she looked at him and said, "You're on my team, Brother." She stomped a hoof. "So let's move out!"
And even though Braeburn wasn't looking anywhere near where the little fella turned up—the flood had washed him all the way down to the Pulgas's place south of town, and they'd been so busy getting the water distributed to their fields, they hadn't had time to send word out asking what family in the tribe might be missing a calf—it was still great to be out doing what he could to help.
Trotting home beside Red with the sun finally setting, he felt like putting a strut in his step, but he was a mite too tuckered out for that. They came over the hill to see the lights of the ranch house bright at the end of the walk, and Red nudged her shoulder into his. "See? There's work you can do here."
He blinked at her smile. "Y'mean you'll put me on the regular night patrol list?"
Her smile faded, and that was all it took for ev'ry drop of warmth to drain outta his chest. He picked up his pace, ignored her when she called his name, and reached the front door before she did, his teeth clenched.
A telegraph envelope was sticking out from the mail slot.
Grabbing it, tearing it open, and reading Applejack's reply that he was welcome anytime was all it took: he just plain galloped to his room. His saddlebag lay draped over the sofa right where he'd left it; he slung it on and got back to the front door just as Red was clomping in. "Reckon I'll see you 'round," he said, not slowing up even when she called his name again.
At the station, the next train to Ponyville wasn't leaving for another four hours. One to Baltimare was steaming at the platform right then, though, so he counted bits outta his bag for a ticket. He doubted Red would chase him here and try to talk him outta going, but he didn't wanna take that chance any more'n he wanted to sit around the depot all night.
Huddled against the carriage window, he looked out at the darkness, his stomach grumbling to remind him he'd been on search and rescue patrol all day and was missing supper right now. But his throat was way too tight for him to think about forcing food down it. Because Sunrise had been right. Letting Red run his life wasn't any sorta answer to anything.
When the train pulled in to Baltimare just after midnight, he managed to get halfway through a hayburger while waiting for the red-eye to Ponyville to start boarding, and he even slept some once he'd got his seat. Again, he didn't dream, but he woke up before dawn tasting strawberries. Grinning, he took himself down to the dining car and ordered pancakes smothered in 'em, sweet and tart—just like her—and so different from the apples he was used to.
He was the first passenger off when the train pulled into Ponyville not long after sunup, and the questions he asked led him pretty quickly to a trim little cottage, bushes heavy with strawberries out front. Pausing for half a second—his good vest was still folded up in his bag, after all—he decided he didn't wanna wait, stepped up, and knocked on her door.
In less time than it took for him to draw a breath, the door opened, and Strawberry Sunrise was blinking up at him, her mane and coat nicely currycombed, a pair of saddlebags across her back.
This part, he'd thought about over the past couple days. Tipping his hat back a mite, he spread a long, slow smile across his face and said, "Morning, Sunrise."
She did some more staring. "Braeburn? Where—? How—? What—? What're you doing here?"
Shrugging with a nonchalance he didn't remotely feel, he waved a hoof. "I didn't getta chance to say good-bye."
Her eyes widened ever further. "But you can't—! You can't just—! Just—!" Leaning forward, she was suddenly wrapping her hooves around his neck and hauling him inside. "Are you crazy? What if somepony sees you?"
The touch of her hooves vanished and the door slammed behind him before he could get his balance back, but when he did manage to turn, she was hyperventilating, standing squeezed right up against the door, a drop or two of sweat trickling down the side of her face and her gaze riveted to him.
Not sure if this was bad or good, he kept his tone light. "Now I know it ain't proper for a gentlestallion to call upon a young unaccompanied mare like this, but, well, I couldn't rightly send you a letter telling you I was coming since I didn't know your address. But the stationmaster at the depot asked wunna them taxicab haulers, and he asked another, and they finally told me how I could track you down."
None of this seemed to soothe her in the slightest. "You asked taxicab ponies? Plural? How to get to my house? You?"
"Ummm..." This was definitely not heading in the direction he'd hoped it might. "Did I do something wrong, Sunrise? D'you—" He had to swallow. "D'you want me to go?"
"No!" She jumped away from the door, then pushed herself back up against it again. "I just...I wasn't expecting you!"
He nodded, and it finally clicked in his head that she was wearing saddlebags. Biting back a curse, he couldn't help slumping a little. "I shoulda figured out a way to get word to you, the way it looks like you're heading out and all." With an effort, he made himself smile. "Anyplace I can walk you to?
"No!" she shouted again, then she slapped a hoof over her face. "I mean, no, I'm not heading anywhere." The breath she took in was deep and deliberate, and for the first time that morning, she didn't have white around her eyes when she looked at him. "I took the week off, actually, after everything that happened Monday. You...you couldn't've come at a better time. Except—" A salty sourness came into her scent, and this time it was her doing the slumping. "I don't really know what we could do..."
Grinning, Braeburn resolutely held his tongue against the lascivious thoughts popping into his head, and Sunrise started blushing, the whole room filling with the sweet aroma of strawberries. A damsel in distress brought all his chivalry to the surface, though, and he asked, "How 'bout breakfast? You pick a place, and I'll treat."
"You don't have to do that," she mumbled, looking at the carpet and shifting from hoof to hoof.
"But I can if'n I want to." He reached out, touched her chin, smiled into her startled eyes when her head snapped up. "Can't I?"
Her expression stayed panicked for longer than he cared for, but finally she gave the tiniest possible nod, pulled the door open, and stepped outside as draggy as a pony on her way to the dentist. She was still wearing her saddlebags, so Braeburn kept his on, too, followed her out, then fell in beside her. "So!" he said, trying to be jaunty enough for the both of them. "You got a place picked out?"
"Place?" Her ears buckled, and she somehow got even more panicked. "Place for what?"
His jauntiness slipped a mite. "Uhh, breakfast?"
"Oh! Right!" Her lips twitched into something that could've been a smile. "We, uhh, we could go to Timothy Hay's, I guess. It's pretty good—I mean, it's the only place I ever go, but I assume it's good compared to other places. Except since, y'know, I haven't been to any other places, I don't really know. I don't know where else we could go, though, or why...why I'm still talking..." She closed her eyes and shook her head quickly. "I'm sorry. I...I'm not usually like this..."
Braeburn cocked his head. "Cute and charming, y'mean?"
He thought it was a pretty cute and charming line himself, so Sunrise's shout of "Exactly!" made him blink. "I told you!" she went on. "I'm a grouch and a—!" She blushed some more, her eyes shifting from side to side. "Sorry," she said again.
She looked so down in the mouth, Braeburn decided to keep up the cute and charming stuff. "Well, now, Sunrise, all I've got to say is that I've met grouches before. And based on the time I've spent with you, I wouldn't call you one of 'em."
Instead of cheering her up, though, this little speech just made her heave a heavier sigh. "Yeah, I know. And that's the problem."
Not sure what to do next, Braeburn started forming up a comment about the weather, but then she was nodding forward and saying, "We're here," in a voice as drab and dusty as an unwatered orchard.
It seemed a nice enough place full of happily chatting ponies, but the way Sunrise's gaze kept flitting around, Braeburn started thinking trouble might be brewing. A few of the ponies did sorta look sideways at the two of them as the waiter showed them to a table on the patio, and for all that he wanted to think they were admiring either him or Sunrise, their expressions more ran the gamut from surprised to annoyed.
He asked for a bowl of porridge with strawberries on it, beaming at her while he did so. Her smile went way too wide, her eyes still shifting while she said, "Just water for me, thanks."
Which was about as far as cute and charming was gonna get him, he figured. "OK," he said quietly, leaning toward her, "maybe you've noticed how me and subtle don't have much more'n a nodding acquaintance? So if I've done something stupid, Sunrise, you gotta say so or it's just gonna fly right on past me."
"No!" she said not quite as loudly as she'd shouted it before. She reached across the table and took his hooves between hers. "It's not you, Braeburn. It's—"
"What in tarnation?" an all-too-familiar contralto asked, and glancing over, he just about winced to see Applejack standing there wide-eyed, a cart of apples hitched up behind her. "Cousin Braeburn? Holding hooves with Strawberry Sunrise?"
Sunrise jerked away like he'd stung her, and when he wheeled his head back around to see if she was okay, she was staring just as wide-eyed back at AJ. "Cousin?" she more choked than said.
"You're darn tootin'!" AJ shrugged outta her harness and stormed up to the edge of the restaurant's patio. "When Cousin Red said you wanted to come up for a visit, I wouldn'ta said 'sure' if'n I'd known it meant you was gonna be canoodling with the likes of her!"
Braeburn recognized the way Sunrise's lips tightened from the times he'd seen Red about to start yelling. But then the anger on her face just plain cracked, her eyes pulling closed, her breath unsteady when she sucked it in. "That's right," she said quietly. "The likes of me." She sprang from the table, her eyes flashing open, and spun to face the resta the folks eating breakfast. "Hooves up, all of you I've insulted or complained to or shouted at! Come on, now! Don't be shy!"
Half a dozen hooves shot into the air right away, their owners giving nasty little smiles. And as Braeburn stared, another dozen or so ponies sorta swallowed and slowly lifted their hooves, too.
"So." Sunrise turned back, his lower lip quivering and her eyes closed again. "That's why."
His throat went all jagged inside him. "Sunrise?" he managed to force out.
She shook her head as fast as if she'd felt bees in her mane, her voice rougher'n sandpaper. "Go home, Braeburn. Just...go home." She pushed away from the table and bounded away up the street.