//------------------------------// // Mope Harvest // Story: Appledashery Vol. Two // by Just Essay //------------------------------// Applejack had barely gotten any sleep and she was back up to apple bucking again. Towards the latter half of the following day, she assisted Big Mac in fixing a fence along the west end of the farm. Then there followed an awkward, quiet dinner... and then bed again. The following day, Applejack went to market. Ponies bought some of the farm's produce—but not as much as she had hoped. She trudged home in a slump, carrying twice as many fruit as she had initially expected to be bringing back. That night she had yet another long talk with Granny Smith, the latter of whom decided to pay a visit to her distant cousins in Fillydelphia to see if they knew of any potential buyers for bulk apple product. It was the weekend, so she took along Apple Bloom—which was fine. Applejack figured the little foal could use some time off for levity while her older siblings toiled with the reality at hoof. The next day was farmwork... as was the day after that... and the day following. It felt like Applejack only had to blink three times, and Granny Smith had already returned with her little sister in tow. There were no leads in Fillydelphia, but Granny had been advised to go visit Golden Delicious—a distant relative—to try for better luck. Applejack wished Granny good fortune, then returned to her work. It was all she could do. Between sunrise and sunset, she immersed herself in the toil. At the rate she was going, there would be no fruit clinging to the trees—and they'd have to wait a spell before there'd be enough apples for harvesting yet again. Big Macintosh suggested keeping a section of the orchards untouched, but Applejack wasn't entirely certain. After all, the fruit had already ripened, and if they didn't do a complete harvest then it might all go to waste. Still, Applejack couldn't help but feel as though she was doing an insane amount of work for little to no gain. Aside from a few casual individuals milling about in the marketplace thrice a week, the only enthusiastic buyer the family had was Rainbow Dash—and she had earned her fruit through hard labor alone. It got to the point that the totality of the family's primary barn had been entirely filled with bounty. Applejack couldn't summon the courage to look at it. She had never been sickened by the sight of apples before like she was now. And at night—when the damnable shadows came, and Applejack was alone in her room like she was in the fields—she lingered at her vanity, staring at the drawer with the feather cradled in her grasp. It had helped her accomplish so much in a blurred period of time... and to what end? Granny hadn't found any leads, and nopony was buying up their harvest. The family was just as doomed as they were the moment they heard the bad news from Filthy Rich. "Feelin' ain't nearly as swell as bein', ain't it?" Applejack murmured. The feather had no answer. Applejack felt stupid yet again for expecting something. And yet... as she tried to put it away... ...she couldn't. Several loathsome minutes later, she crawled back into bed. She had the feather clasped inside the velvet case as she nuzzled it into the night. No, she couldn't feel its unmistakable softness that electrified her, but at least this way the feather was preserved in the long run... preserved in all its uselessness. Just like the family fruit. Applejack had sweated so much that week that her body hadn't the moisture to produce tears. She much preferred it that way.