The Thinkin' Spot
Twilight smiled as the sunshine poured over her face. With the cloud cover whipped away by the weather team, the temperature had jumped immediately, melting the snow underhoof as she stepped. She made her way along the outskirts of town, winding past the river. Spike hurried along next to her with checklist and quill in hand.
“So that takes care of the bird nests, the lakes, the planting, the animals, and the clouds,” Spike muttered with his face buried in the clipboard. Twilight stopped when they crossed paths with the procession of ponies from the plants team, who were heading out towards the farmland near the Whitetail Woods. She shot out a hoof to stop Spike from walking headlong into a stallion. “That’s … everything, right? Oh, the birds, but why’s the next thing seeds again?”
Twilight giggled. “Spike! Nopony could plant all the seeds at once. We’ve only planted the fast-start winter seeds; they’re supposed to go in while the ground is still really cold.”
“Oh.” Spike scratched his forehead with the quill, leaving a squiggle of ink. Twilight pushed him back out of the way again as Big Macintosh lumbered by, pulling a cart. “So next is more seeds. Man, Winter Wrap Up is hard, how long’s this part gonna take?”
Twilight started forward again as Mac gave her a nod in passing. She turned to follow him out towards the farms. “Oh, twelve hours or so.”
Spike dropped the clipboard. “T—twelve hours?!” He scooped it off the ground and ran to catch up. “But the sun’s gonna set soon!”
Twilight nodded. “If we want spring to start on time tomorrow, we need to finish the planting by sunrise and get the birds back first thing in the morning.”
Spike groaned and rubbed his face. “I knew I should’ve stayed in bed today. Everypony’s gonna be all grumpy and tired tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about that, it’s all part of the plan, Spike.” Twilight offered a smile, though she wasn’t sure how convincing a job she did.
They crested a hill and arrived at a loose circle of ponies waiting for her. Everyone there smiled, but she could see the fatigue on their faces. Past the group, the hills gave way to the flat stretch of earth that made up the bulk of Ponyville’s growing area, interrupted with a scattering of cottages and older growth trees, with Sweet Apple Acres’ farmhouse a brilliant red dot against the snow in the distance. Twilight stepped out into the middle of the group and let the circle close around her, while Spike flipped through pages and got more ink on his face.
“Good work so far,” she said, raising her voice to reach everyone. She turned in place as she spoke. “We’ve all still got a ways to go, but we are officially on time.” A spattering of polite hoof clacking followed, and Twilight’s smile grew stronger. She felt in her element again, and the morning was beginning to feel like a bad dream. “In about an hour, the ground is going to be soft enough to start plowing and planting again. I know everypony here is tired from the winter seed planting, so we’re switching to the night shift now.”
A louder applause broke out. Twilight giggled.
“There is still a lot to do,” she continued, looking out over the fields. They were turning from white to rich brown with every passing minute. “It’s going to take every able-bodied pony we have to finish, so your jobs are going to change like this: half of you are going to be preparing plows and seed bags for the night shift, and helping them load and unload. The other half will get time to relax and sleep. At around midnight, you’ll switch off, and the first shift will get their chance to get some rest.”
The gathered group looked around, their looks bleak and even more worn, until everyone eventually nodded. Golden Harvest stepped forward. “How do we decide who’s in which half?”
Twilight frowned and tapped her chin. “If anypony has a preference, line up. First shift on my left, second shift on my right. Those who don’t mind working either one, stay in the middle and we’ll try to make even groups. If that doesn’t work, we can draw lots. Does that sound fair?”
The tired ponies murmured and nodded, then shifted around into three sets which, to Twilight’s eyes, seemed to be least to most exhausted. A few stand-outs, Applejack among them, who still had bounce in their steps filed to the left. The next largest group were the second shift hopefuls, who had run themselves close to empty and looked ready to fall over where they stood. Scratch that, Caramel actually had fallen over, and Twilight covered her mouth with a hoof. The largest group by far, though, were those without preference. Twilight thought that it was less a case of not having a preference and more a determination to do what was needed of them. She gave a sharp nod.
“Okay, I think we can split this up without needing lots if there are enough volunteers from the middle to fill out the first shift.” Twilight looked back over the fields, then up at the sun, which was descending towards the horizon. “And keep in mind everypony does get an hour of rest before plowing can start again.”
With more murmurs, which had a distinct air of relief to them, the plants team sorted itself further, picking up momentum as more ponies settled on a position, until Twilight was looking at two teams of roughly the same size. She nodded again. “Great! Last thing is everyone here gets one pony from the night shift to find, just to tell them where to be in the next hour.” She turned to Spike. Spike had curled up on the ground, cradling the clipboard like a pillow. “Spike!”
Spike blinked himself awake and bolted upright. A smeary ink check mark had imprinted backwards on his cheek. “I’m awake!”
She sighed and shook her head. “Spike, there should be a list of names for the night shift on the back page, and it should say where that pony is right now. Can you give everyone a name and place to look?”
He shuffled through the papers on the clipboard. “Can do, Twilight. Everypony, gather up!”
As the two groups converged in front of her assistant, Twilight let out a breath and stepped out of the way, sitting on her haunches. She rubbed her eye and let her shoulders relax. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. A pall settled back on her mind and her stomach soured with mounting anxiety. “I’ve got to check in with the animals and weather teams to make sure they’re set for the night, then—”
“You’re somethin’ else at this, Twi.” Twilight blinked back into focus on Applejack, who smirked at her. “Ain’t been a Winter Wrap Up that’s gone this smooth that I’ve been around for. Can’t hardly believe we’re gonna be on time.”
Twilight smiled and rubbed her eye again. “Thanks, Applejack. I’m glad we’re on time, too.” Her smile fell, and she looked back at the fields. The snow left had a sad and lonely look to it, but there was so much unturned land. Her insides gurgled. “I hope we’re on time.”
A moment passed in silence as she looked on. Applejack’s hoof touched her shoulder. “I’m right in thinkin’ you’re gonna be workin’ through the night without gettin’ a sleep break, ain’t I?”
Twilight sighed and nodded, giving Applejack a beleaguered smile. “I’ll be fine, I’ve pulled plenty of all-nighters.”
Applejack’s brow furrowed and she looked down for a moment, then fixed her gaze back on Twilight. “You mind keepin’ me company for the hour? I got somewhere I’d like to show ya.”
She let out another sigh and pulled herself back to her hooves. “I need to check on the animals and weather teams, and then—”
“Ain’t gonna do nopony any good if’n you’re asleep on your hooves, Twi. You need a chance to rest, too. C’mon, I won’t take up your whole hour ‘n I’ll help ya out before the plowin’ starts again.” Applejack tilted her head and smiled in a look that could only mean ‘don’t argue with me.’
“Okay, okay, you’re right, I am pretty tired.” She rubbed her face and stretched out her back. “Physical labor is definitely a different sort of all-nighter than studying. Where are we going?”
“I’ll show ya, it ain’t too far from here.” Applejack turned back towards town and looked over her shoulder, waiting for Twilight.
Twilight made sure Spike was getting along okay and told him where to meet her later, then followed her friend back down the road. They walked in silence, leaving the path and following the river when they reached it. The river snaked away from town and into the Whitetail Woods, and Applejack led them into the trees. The snow was gone from underhoof and the new buds of leaves were starting to open on the trees, filling in the branches more and more as they went.
The quiet let Twilight’s mind wander back over the day, and she wished she’d taken the clipboard with her. She had so much left to get through if she was to get done on time, so many things to check on and who knows how many details she’d missed. Her stomach squirmed again and she folded her ears against her head. She’d have to beg off Applejack early and get back to work in a few minutes; she was sure she’d forgotten some vital detail, and if she didn’t get done on time, she’d—
“Here we are,” Applejack said, interrupting her thoughts. Applejack sat down with her back against an old oak that butted up against the riverbank. Twilight’s eyebrows raised, and she looked over the spot.
The oak’s piece of bank jutted out in the river, right at the corner of a bend. By the looks of it, the only reason the little stretch of ground hadn’t eroded away was the tree’s roots holding everything together. The stream’s flow ran fast most of the time, rushing up to feed the lake just out of town square. At the tree’s bend it got confused, though. It gummed up on itself for a stretch of ten feet right in front of Applejack and lay as a sheet that turned in lazy whirlpools. To Applejack’s back, the woods ran dense and thick, but directly across the water the tree line broke. Twilight looked through the hole.
The expansive field north of town stretched out before Twilight’s eyes, fading away into the purple of the distant mountains. She knew if a few more trees were missing from the opposite bank, she’d be able to see Canterlot Castle shimmering in the sunlight. With it hidden behind the trees, the view was left stark and bare. The sound of trickling water drowned out what little noise from Ponyville there might have been, and save for Applejack, Twilight could have been miles away from anypony else. Twilight sat on her haunches next to her friend.
Applejack tipped her hat away from her face and rested her hooves behind her head. “Like it?”
The water swirled around, swollen with runoff and close enough for Twilight to dip a hoof in. “What is this place?”
“When I was a filly, my daddy used to take me out here.” Applejack closed her eyes and grinned. “He called it his Thinkin’ Spot. Said it made him relax to just sit ‘n look out. Back then I was still pretty dang little and tryin’ to tell me to just sit still for a while didn’t work out too well. I think he had just as good a time watchin’ me jump after frogs as he did watchin’ the water, though.” She trailed off and her smile grew wistful. “… After I lost him, I kept comin’ back here. Might’a just been out of grief at the start, but he was right. Ain’t no place like it in Ponyville for thinkin’.”
Twilight’s gaze wandered across the fields. Tomorrow, the first wildflowers of spring would bloom, and they’d turn the grass to fireworks. Lilypads would thrive in the little stretch of calm, attracting the frogs and dragonflies Fluttershy’s team was busy waking up. As the sun grew closer to setting, the sky would ignite in red and burn itself out to purple flecked with starlight. “It’s beautiful here,” she said.
Applejack nodded, her eyes sliding closed again.
“Thank you for sharing it with me. Um. Why, though?” She pawed at the ground. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I just don’t understand.”
Chuckling, Applejack gave Twilight a sidelong look. “I just told ya. Ain’t a better place around to rest up some, and if’n you’re gonna be up all night, you need all the help you can get.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” Applejack’s smile fell, evening out to a neutral line across her face, and in the silence Twilight turned back towards the river. The sun had fallen below the treeline, bursting through the canopy in the few places it could and dappling the water’s surface. “Partly it’s for me. Today ain’t sittin’ right with me, Twilight. I got awful cross with you this mornin’ when all that snow got knocked loose and set my team back. I was sharp with you. I made you cry.”
Twilight pressed her ears back to her head and lowered her head. “I know you didn’t mean to.”
“Meaning to do somethin’ don’t matter much to me, Twilight, ‘specially if I’m the one meanin’ and doin’. Today ain’t easy for anypony, and if I was thinkin’ straight and payin’ better attention, I would’a seen it was goin’ extra hard on you. So I wanted to say I was sorry, and I wanted to say it in a way that meant somethin’.”
Twilight closed her eyes and smiled, though her happiness slammed straight into the guilt in her belly and they churned together in knots. “Thank you, Applejack. It … means a lot to know you care that much.” She let out a long breath and watched the wind—a warm breeze—rustle the grassy plain. “It’s my fault, though. I’m the one who let everything get to me as much as it did.” The knots squirmed like coiled snakes. Twilight sat forward and got ready to stand. “I’m going to make up for it, I hope. I just need to make sure spring is here on time. Thanks again, Applejack.” She pushed herself upright.
“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
Twilight paused mid-step. “Oh?” She stood for a moment, but Applejack stayed put, leaning against the tree with her eyes closed. The urge to get into town made her want to dance in place. As the silence dragged, Twilight gave in with a stifled groan and sat back down.
Applejack cleared her throat. “Nopony wants you to leave, Twilight.”
She rocked back on her haunches and raised her eyebrows. “Huh? What are you talking about?”
Applejack’s eye slid open and she gave Twilight a fixed look, expression impassive. “My family’s been in Ponyville since before there was a Ponyville. This town means a heck of a lot to me, Twi, and I got my ear to it as much as I can. Once in a blue moon I overdo it and run myself ragged, like last Applebuck Season, but I love this town and want what’s best for it.” She pulled a hoof away from behind her head and prodded Twilight in the chest. “You’re what’s best for it.”
Twilight looked down at the spot her friend had jabbed and furrowed her brow. “… Thanks, I guess? I’m still confused. I’m not planning to leave, Princess Celestia told me to stay, and … honestly, she did that because she knew I wanted to.”
Applejack remained neutral, looking over the river. “I don’t think you’re wantin’ to leave. I think you think Ponyville wants you to.”
Twilight opened her mouth, then shut it again. The quivering pile of guilt, ambition, happiness, and fear froze to a block in her stomach and she felt heavy enough to sink through the oak tree’s roots. She turned her face away from Applejack. “… I was being silly. As I said, it was my fault I let it get to me so much.”
“It’s still gettin’ to you, Twilight.” Applejack sat forward and pivoted, turning onto her haunches and facing her friend, who kept herself turned away. “You ain’t gotta make it up to nopony, and if spring’s late again, it’s late again. You’re not gonna let down a soul if it don’t work out perfect.”
Twilight laid her ears flat again. “I know …”
“And this ain’t the first time you done somethin’ like this, neither. I know you haven’t been in Ponyville all that long yet and you’re still figurin’ out where you fit in, but it’s like you think everypony’s gonna turn their backs on you the second somethin’ goes wrong.”
She tried to push the heat out of her face by force of will. She mumbled under her breath and pawed at the ground. Applejack’s hoof touched her shoulder, and she drew her head back up. Applejack’s smile was warm, warm enough to begin to thaw the block of ice in her stomach.
“I ain’t tryin’ to make you feel bad, Twi,” she said. “You’re my friend. One of the fastest and strongest I ever made, and I know I ain’t alone in feelin’ like that.” She lowered her hoof. “I just want you to know you ain’t bein’ tested, by me or nopony else, and if things don’t go perfect and it’s sometimes your fault, I still got your back, and I’d put a big stack a’ bits down I wouldn’t be alone.”
“I …” Twilight blinked. Her eyes felt hot, and she couldn’t get the quiver out of her voice when she cleared her throat. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling and she turned away from Applejack. The sun broke through the canopy at a sharper angle, throwing beams of orange across the water, which grew murky as it heated up. Water lilies were probably already sprouting from the riverbed. “Th—thank you, Applejack. I …” She swallowed. “I knew that, at least in my head. It doesn’t always feel like it’s true, and …”
“And it’s easy to forget that what others expect from you ain’t the same as what you expect from yourself.” Applejack leaned back against the tree. “I understand, Twi. I do the same darn thing and try to work myself half to death doin’ it, too. And I know tellin’ you that you don’t gotta worry won’t keep you from worryin’ sometimes.”
“Yeah.” She sighed and slumped back against the tree, alongside her friend. “… I still needed to hear it, I think.”
Applejack smiled again. “I thought bringin’ you here was a good idea.”
Twilight closed her eyes as the wash of feelings ebbed away, the snakes untwisting and lying still. After a few minutes, she smiled. “Thank you.” Her grin fell to a bemused line as she watched the sky fade to gold and red in the west. “I don’t really understand why here, though. I feel a little like I’m intruding on something private.”
“Oh, don’t feel like that, Twilight. Felt right for me to share it.”
“Why though?”
Applejack frowned and tipped her hat back. “I feel like … we’re kindred spirits for this place, I guess, same way my daddy figured for me. I haven’t brought nopony else here, ‘cause I don’t think anypony’d get what I get out of it the same. Big Mac walks around with his head in his own Thinkin’ Spot wherever he goes, and Apple Bloom … Apple Bloom and sittin’ still is like keepin’ a fox in a hen house. She’s got a head full of worries that only go away when she’s doing somethin’, not when she’s stayin’ put.”
She shrugged and smirked at Twilight. “You and me, we get nice and bullheaded when the world starts chuckin’ problems our way, and we both’ll put our snouts to the grindstone and grind ourselves away if it means not lettin’ somepony down. Least that’s the way you strike me.” She tipped her hat down, until it covered her eyes. “Havin’ a place to go where what you’re supposed to do is nothin’ has been good for me. Has it been good for you?”
Twilight watched the water swirl through the bend, then closed her eyes. It might have just been the magic of the season’s shift, she thought, which surged through everything without anypony’s help, bursting sprouts out of seeds and enriching the air with the pregnant smell of growth and renewal, but the Thinkin’ Spot held a palpable sense of power. The aches and pains of one of the most stressful days of her life had bled into the ground and were all sucked up by the oak tree’s roots. The exhaustion that had started to set in behind her eyes had been beaten back, and as she thought over the ponies she needed to check in with and the coming night of planting, a surge of optimism filled her middle like a breath of fresh air.
“I think so,” she said.
“Good. Then this is your Thinkin’ Spot now, too.”
Twilight started and sat up. “Oh, I couldn’t—”
“You can, if’n you want. Makes me feel good to know it ain’t just helpin’ me unwind anymore. A spot like this is meant to be shared, Twi.” She smiled. After a moment, Twilight returned it. “I hope it does good by you. And maybe next time your heart ain’t listenin’ to your head and it feels like everypony might turn on you, you’ll come out here instead.”
Twilight nodded, lost in thought, and settled back against the tree. She inhaled a deep breath of the warm air. She felt full, like she’d eaten a meal, but empty as well. The worries, fears, anxiety, and hurt joined her fatigue in feeding the tree. As she let out the held breath and opened her eyes, she felt reborn.
“Well, I’ve said my piece now, Twilight. Thanks for comin’ out and listenin’ to what I had to say. I ain’t gonna keep ya from all you got to do, if ya need to get back into it.”
The stalk of a water lily poked at the surface of the river. Twilight watched a frog hop in clumsy fits and starts along the bank, still dazed from its long nap, then come to a rest in front of her and watch the same water lily, waiting for it to unfold. “Just a few more minutes,” Twilight murmured.
Twilight walked along the path out of town with a picnic basket floating beside her. She crossed the bridge and turned off the road, following the river out into the tree line. She smiled as she went and listened to the birdsong until the river’s bend came into view. Sure enough, Applejack sat at the oak tree chewing on a hayseed.
A week into spring, Twilight had looked out the window of her balcony, feeling restless and drained from a marathon of studying. She felt so close to mastering a new technique, but her thoughts scattered like sand through her hooves when she tried to collect them, leaving her grasping for understanding that remained tantalizingly out of reach. The sun had been on its way out of the sky, and with a pleased smile she realized it had been exactly a week since she had been introduced to the Thinkin’ Spot. Exactly what she needed to recharge, she thought, and if she was lucky she’d come home with the solution to the technique in her hooves.
Applejack had been there, same as the week before with her hooves up and her hat over her eyes, as if she never left, though Twilight had seen her several times in between. Twilight had hesitated for a moment, until Applejack patted a spot on the ground. The conversation they’d had still made her smile.
“Day treatin’ you okay, Twi? Need an ear?” Applejack had asked, pushing up her hat’s brim.
“No, I’m fine. Just needed a break.” Twilight sat down next to her friend and let out a long breath, then watched the wildflowers dance in the wind.
“I like days like that. Best kind a’ day.”
They barely spoke a word after, which Twilight found awkward at first, but she marveled at how quickly that faded. It had been stifling, like she’d been called on in class when she didn’t know the answer to a question. There must have been something she was supposed to say, but Applejack had settled into the lull like it was a well-loved chair, and Twilight followed her lead. Soon, she found the silence rejuvenating in its own way, and felt if she broke it she’d lose the thread of a different and alien conversation. Maybe, she reasoned, just as much was being said between her and Applejack when they weren’t talking as was said when they were. Something felt like it had changed, but she couldn’t put her hoof on what. Her studies, however, had leapt into clarity while her brain focused on the dragonflies buzzing over the water, and she’d gone home at a near gallop.
A week later, she’d come to the Thinkin’ Spot at the same time and grinned when she found Applejack again, right where she’d left her. Half as a contingency and half out of hopefulness, she had packed a picnic for two, and she’d grinned when Applejack’s eyes lit up. After tucking in, they’d talked past sundown and deep into the dusk of the evening. Apple Bloom had made some fast friends at a cuteceañera that day, and Applejack went on with a breathless relief and giddiness; the friends had come along at a time her sister desperately needed them. Twilight walked home by moonlight, feeling empty and full, and still unsure over what had changed.
And here they were a fourth time and without speaking a word of planning. Twilight knew then that she would meet Applejack here every week through rain, snow, or shine, for as long as she lived in Ponyville. The something that had changed felt as close and yet just as out of reach as her studies had been that second week. She sat down next to her friend and plopped the picnic basket down between them.
“I brought somethin’ sweet,” Applejack said, setting a plate wrapped in a napkin next to the basket. “How you been doin’?”
“I’ve been fine. How about you?” She peeked under the napkin at the golden crust of a stack of apple fritters. Maybe the sandwiches she brought were best left uneaten.
“Oh, you know how it is, Twi. Season’s gettin’ busier by the day ‘n pretty soon I’m gonna be up to my eyeballs in ripe apples.”
“If you need help getting them in, don’t hesitate asking for—” she took a bite of a fritter “—Oh, Celestia, these are good.”
Applejack chuckled and prodded Twilight’s shoulder with a hoof. “Well, thank ya kindly. And Mac’s goin’ strong and Apple Bloom’s getting’ big enough to help out more, so it should go fine.”
Twilight floated a second fritter up to her mouth when she realized the first was gone. “What is in these things?”
“Mostly love. Love ‘n about three sticks of butter.”
“… Oh dear.”
Applejack laughed again. “You’ll work ‘em off.”
Twilight looked at what was left of the fritter forlornly. “Reading isn’t exactly a fat burner. Might have to enter the Running of the Leaves this year.” She took another bite and shivered. “So worth it.”
Applejack spat the hayseed out and scooped up a fritter. “You like these, just you wait for cider season; I’ll put a barrel aside and we’ll get nice and drunk out here.”
“You’re the best influence on me.” They tapped their fritters together in a toast.
“You ain’t half bad yourself. I can’t say I’m the best at rememberin’ to take a load off just on my lonesome. We make a good team.”
“Yeah … yeah, we do.” Twilight munched on the pastry and turned back to the stream, letting the conversation drift into silence. It felt strange to think it had ever been awkward before. It felt strange to consider how a lot of things had been before. She floated a sandwich and a bottle of juice out of her picnic basket and leaned back against the tree. Applejack grabbed a sandwich for herself and let her hat fall back over her eyes.
Friendship was a funny thing, she mused. She’d thought she’d understood its nature, back when the spark of inspiration spelled the defeat of Nightmare Moon and she’d found herself with five friends she’d go to the ends of the earth for. But that’s what had changed between her and Applejack, sitting with her friend at the Thinkin’ Spot. She had made five new friends that day, which felt so much longer ago than it had just a few weeks before, five ponies she liked and wanted to get to know better. She’d spent her time since she’d met them working on doing just that. She thought that was the end of it, five friendships forged in fire to be tempered over time with experience.
But Applejack had changed that. Bringing Twilight to the Thinkin’ Spot and sharing that piece of herself had been part apology and part for Twilight’s sake, but it had been more than that, too. Fitting it was the start of spring, Twilight thought, to plant the seed of a deeper friendship that wasn’t quenched in desperation, but in a moment of empathy. A seed fed by a little slice of peace they both desperately needed in their lives and left to grow, in silence and in laughter.
“So this is what it’s like to have a best friend,” Twilight mumbled.
Applejack pushed the brim of her hat up. “What was that?”
“Nothing important. So how’s Apple Bloom settling in with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle?”
Applejack grinned and sat up on her haunches. Twilight took a sip of her juice and listened to her best friend talk.