//------------------------------//
// 08: Open Question 
// Story: A Tear in the Fabric 
// by Cold Bolt 
//------------------------------//

Applejack awoke to a splitting headache and a chilly breeze blowing by.

Had she opened the window last night? Why would she do that if it was going to be this cold? Why did her head hurt this much? Why did her pillow feel like wood? The more questions popped into her head, the more it hurt.

With a groan, she sat up as gingerly as she could and opened her eyes slightly, raising a hand to her aching head. She appeared to be outside, which answered at least one question... and another was soon resolved when glancing behind her revealed she'd been sitting against a tree.

Or at least, the remains of one.

The forest around her carpeted the slope of a mountain range that stretched all the way to the horizon and featured a great variety of trees, leafy and evergreen alike. It petered out as it stretched into the valley below, making room for smaller shrubs and tall grasses at the very bottom.

Her pillow tree looked like a truck plowed into it; she had actually been resting against a rough-looking stump. Her gaze traveled its way up the mountainside, causing her to gasp: no less than a dozen other trees had toppled over in a similar fashion, a trail of destruction easily a hundred feet long.

As she climbed to her feet, Applejack let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be."

The cool breeze blew through again, causing her to shiver and rub her arms for warmth. It also picked up an object she hadn't noticed was missing until it bumped into her leg.

She bent over and picked up the old cowboy hat. Inspecting it for damage, she frowned as she spotted several scuffs and tattered edges that hadn't been there the last time she looked. Was this the result of whatever knocked over all those trees, too? She had no particular reason to assume so, but the thought lingered in her mind all the same as she plopped the hat on her head.

kashoo!

Applejack jumped slightly at the sudden noise, looking this way and that for its source. Was there someone hiding nearby, or did one of those trees just... sneeze?

"Hello?" she called out. "Someone there?"

"Don't you move!"

A figure emerged from behind a large tree nearby. Slightly taller than Applejack, she had dirty blonde hair braided into pigtails and wore a red vest over a pink t-shirt, pink jeans, and hiking boots. A bit more striking were her eyes, completely white with no irises or pupils, and her long pointy ears. Strangely, she didn't look any better dressed for the cool weather than Applejack was, but that wasn't what concerned her the most.

That spot was reserved for the revolver in the girl's hands, pointed squarely at Applejack's chest.

"Whoa nelly!" Applejack staggered back a step and raised her hands. "N-Now why don't we just calm down a little, and - "

"What are you?" the girl demanded.

Applejack blinked. "Beg pardon?"

"You're bloody orange, and you've got animal ears on," said the girl. "And what's all this? Look what you did to the trees! How'd you manage that one then?"

A portion of Applejack's fear gave way to confusion. "Wait a sec. That sounds like..." Sure enough, a quick check over her shoulder confirmed that her hair was now long and flowing, easily reaching all the way to her knees. "But that ain't right... When did I - WHOA!"

Applejack yelped in alarm as the girl fired a warning shot at her feet.

"Don't ignore me!" The girl spun the revolver on her finger for a second before pointing it at Applejack again. "How'd you make that big glowing light and knock over all these trees? What kind of magic is that? What're you gonna use it for?"

Once her heart had begun beating again, Applejack glanced very carefully at the destruction around her. Her magically enhanced strength was really something, sure, but could she really have done all this? If so, why couldn't she remember any of it?

"Look... I'm mighty sorry about the trees," she said finally, "but I promise I don't mean any harm. If you'll put that there gun away, I'll give you the honest truth about everything I know."

"That seems a more than reasonable trade if you ask me."

A second figure emerged from the trees. This one was visibly armed as well, sporting a rifle on a strap over his shoulder. He too wore a t-shirt and jeans, gray and blue respectively, and a leather jacket. His hair was the exact same color as the girl's, and he featured the same pointed ears and blank eyes.

...Applejack seriously wanted to ask about that last part, but the timing felt slightly behind ideal.

"About time you caught up," the girl barked. "Help me with this, will you?"

The young man stepped forward, pausing for a moment as he surveyed the situation. After a few seconds, he scowled as he reached for the girl's gun and lowered it, earning him an irritated huff from her and a sigh of relief from Applejack.

"Hey!" the girl protested.

"Put that away," he warned. "A gun is not an intimidation tool. You know better."

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind and closed it a second later. Glaring, she returned her gun to a holster at her hip and crossed her arms as the man finally turned to Applejack.

"My name is Brent," he explained, "and this is my sister, Rebecca. You'll have to pardon her belligerence; we're all a bit on edge these days."

Relieved that the situation had defused a bit, Applejack took off her hat for a moment and wiped a few weather-defying beads of sweat from her brow. "No harm, no foul, I guess. Name's Applejack."

"Applejack?" Brent echoed, raising a hand to his mouth. "With a name like that, I might have suspected you of otherworldly origins even without the rest of your unusual features."

Otherworldly...

The word lingered in Applejack's head. This really was another world, wasn't it? Her memory had gotten pretty fuzzy by the time she woke up, but now she found she could clearly recall everything that had happened with the mirror portal... at least, up until just after she'd jumped into it intending to rescue Rarity and Pinkie Pie. Everything between then and now was a complete blank - just how long had she been out, anyway?

She hoped that her impulsive rescue attempt hadn't been as foolish a decision as it suddenly felt.

"Look, I ain't here to cause any trouble," she said finally. "I'm just looking for my friends after we all fell into the portal."

"Hmph!" Rebecca huffed again. "See? I told you she came through the portal!"

Though he betrayed no other emotion, Brent's eyes narrowed. "I never claimed to doubt you."

"You thought it though."

"You can't claim that."

"Can too!"

"You - "

rrrrip

The two ceased their bickering and stared slack-jawed at Applejack, the splintered remains of a tree stump in her hands.

"Figured that might get your attention." She casually tossed it away as she spoke. "Now, that ain't getting us anywhere. 'Sides, I owe you two a story, don't I?"

Brent nodded. "Likewise. I should think a bit of hospitality is in order, but we ought to be cautious; I can't imagine the rest of the town will react to your presence much better than this one did."

Rebecca shot him a look. He didn't seem to notice.

Applejack tilted her head. "What's got you folks all spooked, anyhow?"

"Come with me. I'll explain on the way." He turned to Rebecca. "You should get back to your post."

"Whatever. Not my problem then." With a dismissive wave of her hand, Rebecca parted ways with them as Applejack followed Brent through the trees.





At the foot of the mountains, the trees gave way to a grassy clearing that seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon. The wooden ramparts of a small town rose over the grass less than half a mile away, two figures making their way toward it as they spoke.

"So what you're saying is," Applejack began, "You folks are right on the border with a not-so-friendly neighboring country and y'all are worried they might march up and take over at any time, so your sis gets paid to sit in a tower up there and keep an eye out?"

"A succinct - if somewhat contrived - summary, yes," said Brent.

Applejack scratched her head. "Well, that explains why she was a mite jumpy before. Reckon it means Dash and the others ain't been by, either."

Brent nodded. "Most likely. She would've spotted them as she did you."

"So what's your deal then?" Applejack quirked an eyebrow. "How come you ain't all suspicious of me and my magic?"

Brent adjusted his rifle strap as he walked. "I happen to believe in the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps a bit foolish of me, I'll admit, but you seem sincere enough that it would genuinely trouble me not to lend you a hand."

"Well, that's mighty kind of you."

As the two fell silent, Applejack found herself pondering the strange man walking beside her. He apparently trusted her, so she saw no particular reason not to return the favor... but a hint of doubt hovered in the back of her mind all the same. In spite of appearances, this world was very unlike her own; she would need to be careful about how far she extended that trust until she could reunite with her friends.

That is, provided she could do so in the first place... but the idea that she might be alone here after all was not one she wanted to spend too much time entertaining.

"Hold."

As the pair was about to round the corner of the outer walls of the town, Brent extended his arm,  prompting Applejack to stop in her tracks.

"You'll want to look as inconspicuous as possible," he warned. "Tuck your ears into your hat and follow my lead."

Somewhat deformed as it was, Applejack found that her hat now hid her pony ears with little effort. Satisfied, Brent nodded and led her to the front gate, its massive doors slightly ajar to allow them inside.

It looked as though someone had taken an old wild west town and unceremoniously dropped it here in the grass; short wooden buildings stretched down either side of a central dirt road. Aside from a smattering of foot traffic, it was populated by both old timey-looking trucks and horse-pulled wagons carting things back and forth, their cargo consisting mostly of wood in varying states of processing.

"Altair isn't much, all things considered," said Brent, "but it's home. It also happens to be the biggest source of lumber in all of Victoria."

Applejack grinned. "I think it's mighty swell."

"Oi, Voral!"

A woman waved at the pair from nearby, bent halfway over a truck with the hood open. Her hair was tied in a bun and her shirt was splattered with grease.

"Good morning, Ayers," said Brent as he and Applejack approached. "Truck still giving you trouble then?"

The woman wiped her forehead with her arm. "There's something stuck in one of the pipes somewhere, and I'm liable to take the whole thing apart before I find it."

Applejack glanced under the hood. Was that supposed to be an engine? She almost knew more about Big Mac's truck than he did, and she didn't recognize any of the components inside this thing.

Ayers quirked an eyebrow at Applejack. "Say, who's that?"

"Oh, pardon me. This is, er..." Brent hesitated, staring at Applejack for a moment. "...Gala Macintosh."

In spite of herself, Applejack stifled a snicker.

"She sent us a letter about a month ago," he continued. "It turns out she's related somewhere on our mother's side, but we're not sure on the details quite yet."

"How come she's orange?"

"Rare magical skin condition," Brent suggested, hardly missing a beat. "It's entirely benign, not contagious, and only affects the pigment."

Ayers stared at Applejack for several moments, her eyes narrowing. "Is that so?"

Applejack gulped audibly. An image of Rebecca's gun pointed at her torso flashed through her head - if she couldn't convince these people that she was as 'normal' as could be, she was liable to wind up in a whole heap of trouble.

"O-Of course it is!" She flashed as nonchalant a smile as she could manage. "I, uh, just don't much like talking about it is all. Real sensitive, you know? Gets me stared at a mite more than I'd like," she explained perhaps a little too quickly.

Sure enough, though there wasn't much going on in the immediate vicinity, no less than half a dozen sets of eyes lingered on her as she spoke.

Ayers seemed to ponder this for some time, silently scrutinizing Applejack as though doing so might confirm the veracity of her claim.

"Well now, that's just lovely!"

Applejack had to resist a sigh of relief.

"Looks like you two have some family left after all." Ayers grinned at Brent before turning back to Applejack. "Are there any more of you back home, Gala? Oh, and do you mind if I call you that?"

"Not at all!" Applejack grinned back. "There's my big brother, baby sister, and good old Granny back on the farm."

"Lovely indeed." Ayers nodded. "Well, I'm sure you two have plenty of catching up to do, so I won't keep you. Have a good one!" She turned back to her work as the two wandered off.

Brent exhaled. "Well, Gala, I believe we may have just dodged a bullet."

Applejack frowned. "I don't like lying to folks like that, but I guess I don't see we've got much choice."

"Not likely." Brent shook his head. "In any case, the house is down this way. We have a guest room you can use for the time being."

"Huh?" Applejack blinked. "Wait, you mean you're gonna put me up then?"

"That was my implication, yes." Brent quirked an eyebrow. "Why? Was I wrong in assuming you would need a place to stay?"

"Uh, well... no," Applejack admitted. "I just didn't realize that's what you meant by 'hospitality,' is all. I don't wanna impose or nothing."

Brent held up a hand. "It's no trouble, I promise. Plus, Ayers works at the lumber mill; now that you've met her, she can put in a good word for you over there to help you find work. If you mean to reunite with your friends, you won't get far without money."

Applejack nodded. "Might need an excuse for why I need it, but that sounds mighty fine to me. Means I can offer you something back, too," she added.

Brent nodded in turn. Though she hadn't seen him smile once since they'd met, she could still tell that he was pleased with the arrangement.

Even if it wasn't quite what she was used to from the farm, the thought of having decent work ahead of her was a comforting one. She didn't relish the idea of keeping secrets from these folks though, for more reasons than the obvious; if the rest of the town proved to be as unhappy to see her as Rebecca had been, someone was liable to get seriously hurt.

That aside, she didn't want to spend any more time in Altair than was absolutely necessary. It wasn't a bad little town, by and large... but what mattered most was that none of the others were here. Were she just a bit more impulsive - perhaps like a certain colorful friend of hers - she might try to set out immediately, but taking care of herself had to come first.

She just hoped they had the luxury of waiting for her.