Feather of Days Past ~ The Old and New

by Dennet

Apple-scented Raindrops

Chapter III

Blobs of colours slowly crept up Macintosh's vision. Finally, his ears began registering the flickering sound of fire, wood burning up and falling upon itself in a warm pyre. He felt his legs resting comfortably against firm, slightly worn cloth. Ever so slowly, the big stallion blinked his eyes, trying to take in more of his surroundings.

A plain, rolling carpet stretched before him. It was rather simple but knit with love. Brown colour dominated the centre as an array of apples formed circles on its out edges. He recognized it, walking over the tapestry day after day.

Finally it dawned upon him. He was resting on the couch in the living room of Apple household, the lit fireplace keeping his side warm. He felt peculiarly reinvigorated.

What a strange dream.

He had probably keeled over on the couch right after that party. He could vaguely remember struggling to keep his eyes open on the way home. It all slowly made sense. Granny Smith had most probably tended to him after his sudden arrival. Judging by the lack of any other noise, everypony in the house was still sound asleep.

Maybe if he hurried, he would make it before Applejack wakes up. His apron was basically calling his name at this point.

He had to keep quiet. Gently rising his hoof, Mac gazed through the window to judge the time of day. His eyebrow rose inquisitively. Stars? Just how long had he slept? More importantly, though - what was the hour and day?

Curiously, he felt refreshed and full of vim. Still slightly tipsy though. It had to be the middle of the night, still fresh from Pinkie's party. Mac guessed the best course of action would be to simply rest down at his room. Little miss Smarty Pants was probably anxious for him at any rate.

Something didn't quite tick as he moved his legs off the couch.

They felt heavy. It was a different type of exhaustion - not from being worn after a long day. It reminded him more of the Running of the Leaves, but it's been years since he had participated. Applejack had steadily competed with him back in the day. They were equal in more ways then one. Stamina, speed, agility. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. As time went by, Macintosh noticed he was becoming increasingly bigger. He became more resilient, he tired less easily. His natural dexterity suffered greatly, and soon Applejack was running circles around him.

Still, his biggest worry had always been his strength. It came slowly at first, and steadily grew with each moon over the Acres. Accidents happened, but were mostly menial or inconvenient. Bent steel, broken plough, door torn from the hinges. It worried him, but he would always be confident in his self-control.

Until I wrestled Jacks in the mud.

Reality ensued quickly. His legs, still worn, just didn't agree with the rest of his body. The large red mountain was quickly thrown off-balance. Whoever was asleep in the household wouldn't get much more of it, that's for sure.

Brace for impact.

To his surprise, there was no sound. In fact, he didn't even crash against the floor. Skipping over on his two legs he somehow maintained his balance. Awkwardly he began slowing down, finally setting down with a heavy sigh of relief. There were always bright sides. This time, he had managed to avoid waking up the entire house, Luna knows what hour would it be.

Macintosh shook his head. He ought to really return to his bed proper. His sore hooves were a testament that he had done something of great burden the day before. Details came together. Something about the barn, the Cutie Mark Crusaders failing at their job. A leap. He must have hit his head harder than he could remember. He shrugged, and his head darted to his side immediately.

Hiding in the corner of his eye was a wing. As far as Mac could remember, it was his wing.

And he did not dream that day at all.

It came like a wave, the sensation of every muscle tensing flushed over him quicker than he could even comprehend. Ice-cold sweat once again started forming all over his large body. His breath became deep, chest pumping up and down furiously.

He swore he was freaked enough to run into a wall. Then again, a rock was a better choice, at least that would put him out for longer.

Macintosh once again focused on his back, on his new appendages. Consciously, he flapped them once and twice. He actually managed to tap his right wing against the edge of the couch, reminding himself that he is in fact not in high fever and this is anything but a hallucination.

How did this happen, he had no idea whatsoever. His mind began racing, trying to piece together scraps of the overarching story. Still, as his breath became more and more erratic, he started having trouble focusing. A sense of some sort of primal, irrational fear overtook him.

"Mwh.. wham... ah.. hwmhg.." he began to stammer. It was by all means a first. Were Macintosh to think, he would always do so in absolute silence. He could solve vastly complex riddles or ponder philosophical questions with ease and nopony would even see his snout change his expression. Were the need be, he would reply with a simple yes or no, in his usual and rustic style. Sometimes, very rarely, he allowed himself to speak more. Still, the stallion was laconic and to the point.

And now he was standing in the middle of the room, his hooves nervously clopping against the (thankfully) muffled carpet. His wings flapped up and down just fanning the flames whereas his mouth yelped like he was a little colt all over again.

His erratic behaviour changed for the worse quite rapidly as the large stallion began trotting around the outer edge of Granny's tapestry. The feathered limbs still moved up and down rhythmically. He managed to knock down a cup of water from the edge of a small table right next to the couch. The liquid spilt itself all over the wooden floor. Still, Mac was too busy to even notice.

In all of this fervour Macintosh became completely oblivious to the presence of another pony. A mare had descended down the stairs as he began his fit. By now, Applejack was standing right outside the reach of his feathers, eyeing his brother with both worry and subdued bewilderment.

"Ah... Mac?", she muttered at first before finally voicing his name.

The red blob of nerves stopped and piqued his ears up instantly. His wings were quickly to follow that motion.

"Jacks'? Jacks what's happenin' t'me!?", he yelped. She hadn't seen him in such a state for years now.

"Ah... Ah don't know brother. Uhh, settle down now, lad. Yer trashin' the livin' room," Her attempts at calming her elder brother weren't working quite as she had intended.

Macintosh flapped his wings again, trying to prove a point. "Ponies don' grow wings overnight! Ah haven't see ye grow a horn Jacks! Ahh! What's happenin'?!" the stallion almost reared.

With a quick nod to herself, Applejack stepped forward and quickly threw herself at her brother, taking his neck into an embrace, balancing against him on her rear hooves. A breeze of wind followed Mac's sharp wing beat. Both of them stood spread, facing up. The silence was practically audible.

Slowly, the feathers descended as the stallion gently tucked them against his sides. The mare simply ran a hoof through his mane, comforting her brother. It was a gesture the two would share since the most early days, back when Big Mac wasn't yet called "Big".

He was her older brother, an example of self-composure and rational mind, but even his ever-so-calm self would break under pressure. He was the eldest, he could not show such obvious weakness. There was nopony else to show his sisters how to deal with the farm - Granny was becoming too senile for such business. As such, he would lock himself in his room, crying himself to sleep every odd month or so.

It wasn't until Applejack forcefully bucked doors ajar and comforted him that Mac finally opened himself. Overcoming his drive to be a good older brother, he would share his problems with his little sister. True, they were petty at best, but they piled up into a fine mess. Still, she was always there, ready to listen when the time was right. As they both grew older and Applebloom came into the world, he began to deal with his himself a bit better, trying to set the little filly an example.

And now, they stood in silence in the middle of the room, simply hugging each other.

"There there brother. Sit yourself down and let me clean 's mess up," she finally drawled out, disengaging from the embrance.

Macintosh took a step back, almost dropping his flank down on the floor. Applejack helped him slightly, guiding the sullen mass back unto the couch. He stared at the distance through the window, tears flowing down his face.

"Jacks... auh... just what am'Ah?", he muttered under his breath.

"Yer Big Macintosh, my brother, why d'ya ask?", she replied quickly before grabbing some cloth off the kitchen rack.

He once again flapped right wing, eyeing it with curious disinterest, fright perhaps. He was worn out emotionally, so much was clear.

"Bu... how can Ah work like this?"

"Lhikeh whhath?", she tried to sound as normal as she could. Fact was she was just as confused by the situation as he was.

"Yer still the same ol' big pony as ever. Ah mean, Ah haven't seen ye doing loop'd'loops like a certain friend o'mine," Applejack added after spitting the soaked cloth back unto the counter, heading back to the kitchen for some tea.

Mac turned over to her, tucking his wing slightly. "What if customers come over to th' Acres? We're earth ponies, sis. No Apple was anythin' but."

"Ah'm sure they'll understand," she scowled from the other room.

"Ah'm sure they won't. 'sides, don't pegasi have some different structure or somethin'?", he barely could construct a sentence. "Ah mean... how can Ah pull the plough like that?"

"Yer yoke still fits," she deadpanned. She couldn't allow herself to become mellow as well. It was bad enough that Mac was crying.

"And th' buckin'? Ah never bucked with... uhm... six li—"

"Hush. Ah've ghoth yhehr theah," Applejack walked over carrying a small cup with her mouth.

He smiled slightly at the notion, carefully taking it over on his broad hoof. He pulled it closer, tasting the apple-scented flavour.

"Umm... Mac?"

He finally felt a slight squeeze against his right wing. The mare sat herself right next to him on the couch, just as he was trying to tuck the thing in. The result was an awkward hug-like expression from the large stallion.

Macintosh almost spat his tea, quaffing a bit and quickly drinking it down as he quickly tried to correct the position. Unfortunately, Applejack squeezed against his feathers slightly, making him unable to fully move the limb. The wing flayed around a little bit as he desperately tried to fix the situation.

"Mac, stop it. 's fine!"

The red appendage settled over her once again. He knew pegasi had large wings, almost four times the width of their head across. But his were truly humongous, almost capable of touching to the ceiling were he to spread them out. As the situation was, he almost completely covered the mare to his side.

"Ye know brother? 's doesn't feel half-bad."

Macintosh almost spat out his tea, again.

"Bh... Jacks, 's ain't right."

"Ah know sugar cube," she caught herself uttering her usual phrase against somepony absolutely inappropriate of build. "We'll figure somethin' out, right? My friend Twilight knows all about s' kind of stuff," she spoke reassuringly.

"Wh'... Wait, ye want me to... No, no Jacks no. Ah can't leave th' farm like that," the red stallion protested. Reading his emotions was easier for Applejack and Applebloom than for anypony else. Now it was less than trivial, his large wings gesticulating more than he had ever in his entire lifetime.

"Watch it Mac. Still, Ah could get Twilight over 'ere if yer... y'know."

The large wing almost smacked the mare over her head. Almost.

"Ah'm not lettin' a lady trouble herself over me. Uhm... Ah guess Ah'll go," he said unsure of himself.

In fact, he wasn't truly sure of anything anymore.

Applejack smiled at him, almost making him drop his tea as she once again embraced her brother in a familiar hug.

It must have been the tea, but Macintosh felt at strange ease. His thoughts were still swirling around like a tornado in his head, but he could swore he found the eye of the storm for the time being. He gently put the cup away.

And returned the hug.

__________________________________________________________

She wasn't spying or eavesdropping. Far from it. It's not spying if they talk loud enough to be heard through the whole house. She's not being rude if they're discarding their privacy altogether. Of course it's fine. Nopony can blame her.

Right?

Such and similar thoughts haunted little Applebloom in her sleep. She didn't fully realise just what had happened that day. She was supposed to expand the tree-house. A new floor was something the Crusaders could use. A new room dedicated just for planning their endeavours in finding their special talents.

She already had sketched it out, measured the dimensions in her head. She even began studying how their own house was jammed together. It wasn't too hard. She only had to add and subtract.

Nothing she couldn't handle.

But as life would have it, again, something went wrong. A cart full of tools which Scootaloo insisted on stacking had suddenly cut loose from Sweetie's messy hoofwork, and even her own nails couldn't keep the fabric from tearing. If anything, they probably just made it worse.

She had never felt so terrified as back then. She could almost see her entire life flashing before her eyes - her first birthday, her first bucked apple, the first day at school, the feeling when Snips was first to get his cutie mark, how Diamond Tiara bullied her over being a blank-flank, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, founding of the Crusaders.

Something had then tugged her by her tail, and she closed her eyes from fright. A few moments later she had found herself face-first in dirt after Mac dropped her down from his mouth. It had taken her mind a second to catch up to the situation, but she was quick enough to return the gesture as best as she could - with hugs.

But for the hay of her she could not remember Big Mac having wings before.

She tugged her sheet with her mouth, trying to cover herself entirely. She and Applejack had spent enough time trying to drag him into the house, and by the time everything settled down in the filly it was already extremely late. That, and eavesdropping on their little conversation later on.

Wait. "Overhearing". Better.

Point was that little Applebloom couldn't sleep. It was well past her bedtime, and now she was most probably stuck awake all night, counting sheep or fondly regarding the wooden planks that made for her ceiling.

She heard a sound of something hitting the wooden wall outside, but was quick to shrug it off as the planks shrinking from the cold.

That is, until she heard it again.

The second poke worried her. Apple thieves? Winona should barking her little lungs out if that was the case. A stray bird? They were more intelligent than that. What if... it was a ghost? The lil' filly was shaking by that point.

Something inside, however, drove her to investigate. Maybe... just maybe if it was a ghost she could scare it off and even earn a Ghost-Busting Cutie Mark! That silly notion pushed her forward.

As she approached the window, a large shadow almost crashed through it, just barely hovering its hooves over at the windowsill. She could feel the weight sliding down both the wall and down her throat.

With a quick jump to the side, she prepared her hind legs. If something was trying to assault her room, she would give it a well-deserved buck to the face. She crawled slightly under the window, assuming the right position as she rested her hooves against the wall.

The creature struck against the wall, this time clinging to her window. She could, by now, feel it rasp its hooves or feet or ethereal tail against the opposite side. It was... falling?

Applebloom turned around and gazed through, noticing two large red hooves with rather messy fetlocks.

"...Mac?!"

The filly didn't think twice, quickly jumping out and grabbing her brother with her mouth. She wasn't very strong, but she hoped her weight would at least help her brother climb up. She wasn't good at physics - far from it. All the formulas, even most basic ones, confused her endlessly. When it came down to practical application though, she always aced whatever the task at hand.

This time was no exception, as the large stallion came rolling in over the window into her room, leaving stray feathers everywhere. The two untangled each other from a collective mess of hair, hooves and wings with just the minimum amount of wincing.

"W-what are ye doin' Big Mac?!" She was, at very least, unhinged by the experience, yet years of addressing her brother in the usual manner held adamantly.

The deep-red stallion said nothing for the moment, eager to first make the spinning in his eyes stop. As soon as he could differentiate between down and up, he gently focused to move his wings, eyeing them with slight contempt.

"Ah... Ah can't sleep. They keep itchin'," he flapped the offenders slightly.

Applebloom couldn't help but giggle. This just prompted Mac to raise his eyebrow in question.

"Uhm... so Ah figured they need some... eh... exercise," he began to trail off into explaining his actions. As much as Applejack helped him calm down, he was still mighty perplexed by the situation he had somehow gotten himself into. He had read about pegasi anatomy some time ago, among other subjects in his prized collection. Apparently, since these ponies are biologically designed to spend majority of their time in the air, their wings demand to be kept in shape by themselves. If a pegasus was to ignore such routine, his back would start itching to remind him of the bare necessities.

By the time he had finished recapping this particular chapter to himself, Applebloom was already behind his back, poking his feathers with her muzzle, giggling.

"They're so soft Big Mac!"

He moved around trying to spot the filly, but he just managed to push her over on her flank with his wing.

"Mighty sorry sis," he drawled opening his eyes. Did he hurt her?

A laughing fit confirmed the contrary. The little filly was too busy enjoying the soft feathers on her coat as she played with them like with a new pillow.

"Uhmm... Applebloom?"

"Ahehe... sorry Big Mac, they're just awesome."

They're what?

"I mean, y'can fly? How cool is that?"

"Eh, Ah..."

"I bet y'can race Rainbow Dash! Scootaloo will die from envy when my big bro wins with her!"

"Uhm... really now..."

"Oh! Oh! Ye could teach Scootaloo how to fly! She's been askin' Rainbow for lessons but she always declines!"

"Applebloom, please," Mac finally managed to squeeze himself into the clearly one-sided dialogue. He found himself much more opt to vocalizing himself at this state of mind.

"As ye can see, Ah'm not really a good flier mahself... and Ah'm definitely not as fast as Miss Dash," he heaved himself unto all fours, finally rising up. The filly was quick to catch up, following his new wings with fascination, completely unlike the first time she saw them. Now that she managed to put the two and two together, she could only wonder how did it feel to actually... well... fly!

"Listen sugarcube, 's late. Ya go to sleep now, ya need t'rest before school like a good filly. Hush hush now."

"But Big Maaac!" she tried to protest but was quickly shot down by a stern stare from her older brother.

"...agh, fine."

She turned around and took a single of Macintosh's feathers into her mouth, fixing it into her mane with a few quick gestures of her hoof. She turned around, giving the red stallion a most infective grin.

Infective enough to cause him to smile on his own. Something he hadn't hoped to achieve tonight.

He gave her a reassuring pat as he helped her up to her bed. He turned around as she followed him with her eyes, as if expecting something. With another thud, Mac took a step back. He forgot to tuck his wings, springing his entire body backwards as they jammed between the tight door frame. With a mutter, he finally brought them closer and walked outside. Closing the door, he popped his head in to turn off the light.

Applebloom was lapsing into a giggling fit again.

Finally, he gently pushed the switch with his muzzle as the room bathed in Luna's moonlight.

Maybe... maybe it's not so bad after all? I guess... ouch they hurt.

He gently tried to flap his right wing, only for the searing sensation to come back immediately. There was some ointment in the bathroom, as far as he could remember.

"Haystacks."

Comments

[LacionARG]

Nice chapter my friend
Really show how shocked would be big mac if suddenly he grown wings and how he treats applebloom as a big brother myself cant stop loving this
cant wait to see what kind of adventures and problems will come with this

and i know that what pinkie gives him has something to do with this

well cant wait for your next update

[RaptorCalloftheShadows]

...And then he grows a horn.

Celestia's response: FINALLY, A ~MAN~

[nemryn]

Huh, I wonder why he's so embarrassed about having wings. Do I detect a tiny bit of pony racism?

[Dennet]

292876

*innocent whistle*

[Dostoron]

... it only hit me now, but the premise of this story could very well explain the lack of earth pony guards. the wings come with protecting others, and with them the duty to keep protecting.
Nah I´m reading too much into it. but I like the idea

[SergeantShenanigans]

I am enjoying this story, but I get the feeling that the drink Pinkie gave him was red bull, I hope nobody else had guessed this in your comments, and if so then I am sorry for the repetition in suggestion

[mrpretzel]

Eye-dialect is generally not a good idea. It makes writing less understandable in exchange for no clear gain. It's also most often used only for lower class dialects, showing the author's classism or regionalism -- not that that's necessarily the case here, but eye-dialect can't help but bring such things to mind. Even if you're good at it, you shouldn't use it. But...

"Hush. Ah've ghoth yhehr theah."
"Lhikeh whhath?"
"Jacks'? Jacks what's 'appenin' t'me!?"

...you're not good at it. Those first two are near-incomprehensible and don't resemble any dialect of English. In the third, he's suddenly transformed into a cockney. I suggest you stick to only the common ways of writing nonstandard English, like -ing as -in' and unstressed you as ya.