Once upon a time, there were two foals named Hansel and Gretel who lived with their parents; a woodcutter and a housewife.
The house wife told the woodcutter to take their foals into the woods and leave them there as they could not afford to keep them. Overhearing, the foals took several baked goods with them and left a trail of crumbs behind to follow back home.
Unfortunately, the crumbs were eaten by birds and Hansel and Gretel were lost. Wandering the woods without direction, they came upon a cottage owned by a witch.
The witch tried to eat them, but Hansel and Gretel managed to trick the witch and return home.
The woodcutter, left alone by the loss of his wife who had died earlier, welcomed them back, glad they were safe.
Then they lived happily ever after.
Granny Smith rocked back and forth on her worn down rocking chair, the wood creaking in time to the light breeze that blew through the apple trees. The sun had begun its journey downwards, bathing the warm coloured leaves of the orchard in intense orange light causing the trees to look like they were ablaze. Appropriate considering her mood.
Though the acres stretched far towards the horizon, Granny couldn’t have felt anymore claustrophobic. She loved her home, the farm, the trees, and everything that had been built by her family over the years, but recent events had made her wish that she could leave it behind for newer pastures far away from this place.
The present had trapped her at a time when all she wanted to do was slip away into the past. Think of better times, when she felt that she could be happy instead of being on the cusp of breaking down at any moment. She shouldn’t be hiding out on the porch. She should be inside, being there for her family, tending to those swallowed in their grief. But, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, to go into that horrible house. To participate in the motions of mourning.
She hadn’t even seen— no, she never would. Her dreams were haunted enough.
A creak signified the opening of the front door followed by the soft click of it being closed. A yellow stallion with bright green mane sat beside her, hanging his hooves over the railing and staring out across the acres alongside her. Though normally a walking beam of sunshine, her nephew, Mosely Orange, was more akin to an overcast cloud, threatening to rain at any moment.
“Can we talk for a moment, Granny?” Mosley asked.
“I don’t know where you expect me to run off to if I don’t want to,” Granny curtly replied. “Don’t exactly gallop like I used to.”
“It’s polite to ask.”
“And ya couldn’t even be patient enough to wait until after all this was over?”
“It’s important.”
“So is letting an old mare have her peace,” Granny sharply retorted.
Mosely flinched.
Taking pity, Granny sighed and said, “What is it, Mosely?”
“Well, I was trotting about the wa—” He coughed at Granny’s harsh glare “—house, trotting about the house, and I couldn’t help but notice that Applejack and Big Mac weren’t taking things very well.”
A grunt of acknowledgement was all Granny offered as a reply.
“Mac is technically an adult and I think he just wants to be left alone after Bright and Pear—”
Another glare from Granny.
“—After recent events,” Mosely corrected. “But Applejack is still young, and I was thinking, and, of course, you don’t have to agree, but if you think it would help, and I do want to make sure you’re okay with it and—”
“I’ve seen a dog chasing its own tail get to the point sooner than you,” Granny interrupted. “Make like a dog and catch the darn thing or drop it.”
“Can I take Applejack to Manehattan?”
Granny whipped her head toward Mosely. Mosely leaned away from her, startled by the force of the motion.
“You want to do what?!” Granny exclaimed in surprise. “No, actually have you asked her yet?”
“Not yet,” Mosely answered. “I wanted to run the idea by you first before asking her since I wasn’t sure if you’d be willing to let her go.”
“Course I wouldn’t want her to go!” Granny snapped. “What kind of uncaring grandmother do you take me for?!” She raised a hoof to stop Mosely from replying. “No, absolutely not. Her parents would never…” She trailed off as she took in her own words, a familiar sense of sadness enveloping her.
“Look, Granny. I know this is hard for you, but we’re not trying to take her away from you. We, Citron and I, think that maybe it might do Applejack some good to get away from here for a while. Give you some time to sort things out with Mac and figure out where to go from here.”
She wanted to respond by saying he had no right to butt in like this. To not stick his nose where it don’t belong. But she felt tired and her inner fire was beginning to die out in the wake of her own grief.
“Give me some time to think it over,” Granny finally said. “I just want to be alone right now.”
Mosely nodded. “I’ll leave you be then. Just let me know before the end of the service.”
Granny looked back to the acres, the creak of the door signifying Mosely’s departure.
She released a weary sigh. At no other time had she ever truly felt her age as in that moment. Nothing had felt right in the past few weeks and she didn’t feel it would get better any time soon. What was worse is that her grand foals felt it too.
Her grandson had gone nearly mute.
Her eldest granddaughter got angry at everyone and everything.
Her youngest still had some of her usual cheerfulness, but that was born more from youthful innocence rather than any ability to cope.
Speaking of, the creaking of the door followed by the thumps and pitter patter of hooves on wood brought a rare smile to Granny’s lips as she took in her newest visitor.
The smallest apple, a rambunctious filly with a bright red bow on her head that was far too big for her, dragged an old worn book backward toward her. When she was within range, she turned around and dropped the book before Granny, looking up expectantly at her similarly to Winona when she was looking for a treat.
“Whatcha got there, Sprout?” Granny asked bemusedly.
“Story!” She cried out, raising her hooves up in glee.
“And which one would you like to read to you?”
“Story!” Bloom repeated.
Chuckling, Granny scooped up both foal and book into her lap to the tune of her aching joints. “Definitely not so small anymore. Gonna be big as your sister at the rate you're going,” Granny remarked. “What story do you feel like listening to?”
Opening up the book gently with her hooves, Apple Bloom turned the pages until it came upon a familiar story with an image of a gingerbread house under the title.
“Hansel and Gretel, eh?” Granny smiled wistfully. “One of my favourites when I was your age.”
Granny settled into her rocking chair, Apple Bloom nestled into the crook of her foreleg with the storybook held between Granny’s forehooves.
“Once upon a time, there lived two foals named Hansel and Gretel,” Granny started.
“Fine, go! Do that delivery you’re so keen to do.”
Shaking her head to clear away the echo of a memory, Granny continued, “Their father loved them dearly, but his wife didn’t take kindly to them.”
“We’re going, Ma. And I hope when we get back you’re ready to apologize for the way you acted.”
“The wife told her husband to leave them in the woods, which he obeyed. But the foals overheard them talk and snuck several loaves of bread with them to leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind to follow home.”
“Okay, you were right. I shouldn’t have— oh, excuse me, officers. I thought you my colt. What’s the problem?”
“Unfortunately, the crumbs were eaten by crows and the foals were unable to find their way home, becoming lost in the woods.”
“No, no! Bright! Pear! I’m sorry, just wake up, please! I’m sorry!”
“As they wandered alone, they came upon a house made of gingerbread. They thought they had found a peaceful respite, but little did they know that a witch lived there who gobbled up lost foals.”
“This can’t have happened! It can’t! I have to tell them I’m sorry!”
“The witch invited them inside—”
“That can’t be the last words I said to them! Give them back! Please, please, I’ll do anything! Just Give THEM—!”
Granny slammed the book shut, fighting back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. Bloom looked up at her grandmother, concerned confusion on her face.
“Granny?” She asked.
“I’m fine, Sprout. Granny is just… not in the mood to read anymore.” She managed to bite back the sobs in her throat and calm herself down. “Maybe your brother Mac might be up to it.”
Bloom frowned, her ears pinning to the back of her head.
“Now, now, don’t give me that look. I’ll read to you another time, Sprout, promise. Just not today.”
Dejectedly, Bloom got off of Granny’s lap, taking the book with her. She looked back hopefully, but upon not getting a different response, she began dragging the book after her, presumably to seek out her brother. Once she heard the creak of the door opening and closing, Granny finally let the tears and choked sobs go, hunched over in her chair.
She mentally chided herself for her moment of weakness. The matriarch of the family didn’t lose herself over a fairytale. Even if she felt no small amount of jealousy at the woodcutter’s good fortune.
If only her own life could have such a happy ending.
Granny stretched back with a sigh, her mind wandering back to the horrid moment she had learned her foals were dead. The memory of seeing their mangled bodies from the storm that had taken their lives. It had been horrifying at the time, but now that she looked back, the bodies seemed wrong.
Furrowing her brow in thought, she began to recall more details. She had thought they were her foals, but the colours of their coats had been off. The damage had been so severe that it was nearly impossible to identify them, so there wasn’t even a guarantee that it was them. And really, how many ponies had an apple or a jar for a Cutie Mark? Just amongst her present relatives in the house, there were at least a dozen with similar marks.
It began to make much more sense to Granny. The coroner had been wrong. Her foals were still alive and probably just couldn’t find their way home. It struck Granny how terrible she was being by sitting there in her chair and not searching for her poor lost foals.
She stared out over the acres, her mind coming back to the story she had read to Apple Bloom. As she recalled the details, her eyes widened as an idea came to her.
A smile graced her face as a plan came together in her mind. She would have Bright and Pear back.
And all she needed were some pies.