The kitchen, which also served as the dining room, was a simple thing. Wooden planks made up the floor, wooden cabinets lined up the walls, pans and ladles (among other kitchenware) hung under overhanging shelves; a wall of blue and sea-green design, and a window that brought in the calming morning sunlight with its rays and beams piercing through, lighting up a patch of the floor.
At the table sat the family. Apple Bloom, the youngest of the bunch, scarfed down the stack of pancakes before her. She was overshadowed by her bigger brother, Big McIntosh, who, upon seeing all the pancakes gone in mere moments, rubbed her on the head, his enormous hoof almost throwing her pink hair ribbon away.
She smiled. "Ah, c'mon, Big Mac!"
"Ya' better get to bitin' real' soon!" Granny Smith interrupted—the oldest of the family, her mane whitened. "You've been here for almost half an hour!"
The door slammed open.
"Look!" Applejack yelled, holding up the newspaper, headline at the front.
"Now, what are ya' gabbing about?" Granny said firmly, glaring at her. "I was wonderin' where you've been!"
Apple Bloom and Big McIntosh were already looking at the newspaper—Apple Bloom jumped out of her chair and walked up to her sister. "Wha-What's going on, Applejack?"
Big Mac got out of his chair, too, sliding it out with visible creases on the floor.
The two read the headline.
And gasped.
"We're at war?!" Apple Bloom shouted—shock in her voice.
"War?!" Granny repeated—and then got up out of her chair.
"B-but how?!" Apple Bloom went on, a hoof on her cheek.
"I read everything 'bout it the very second I got to it!" Applejack explained. "Apparently, remember that new city that grew up from the ground a few days ago?"
"Ya' mean the Crystal Empire there in the North?" Granny Smith said. "That thing we've all read in our 'istory books?""
"Yeah, that city," Applejack said, nodding rapidly, still holding the newspaper. "The king of that place, well, is invading Equestria right...uh, now!"
"Now?!" Apple Bloom screamed before shuddering, holding Big Mac's leg as he rubbed her head—now in a comforting way. "W-We'll be together, right?"
Applejack dropped the newspaper—a sturdy face of narrowed eyes. "We're the Apple family," she began—solemn. "We've been through the rough an' tough, the hard and tumblin'. If we could get past those times, then we're gonna be just fine."
"Well!" Granny exclaimed, grabbing the newspaper.
All eyes were on her.
"Peace o' war, the least we could all do is feed the ponies!"
Applejack and Big Mac nodded.
"And you, too, Apple Bloom!" Granny said, eyeing her.
She nodded, too.
"I, for one, don't want the Apple family to go down selfishly! So, that better motive all o' us!" Granny pointed at all three of them—and then to herself.
Silence as they looked at each other.
"Wait! Ya' better eat yer' breakfast first—can't work well with empty stomachs!"
The sun was a bit higher now in the sky, certainly a good distance above the distant mountains with a city's tiny silhouette sticking out.
In the numerous fields of Sweet Apple Acres, the apples trees in their neat rows stood tall, towering above the average pony. Their red, juicy apples were hanging—some of them dangling—high up on the branches. With so many apple trees present in these fields, the amount of apples that could be seen was a staggering amount.
Then, grunts, kicks, rustles, and thuds.
The three Apple siblings were at work: Big McIntosh kicked, in succession, each apple tree with his hind legs; all the apples fell with each of his kick and they fell into the positioned baskets below. Applejack also kicked the trees with her hind legs, causing all of them to fall as well—with Apple Bloom moving around and catching the apples by balancing the large wooden container on her head.
This went on with no words as, slowly but surely, row after row was cleared of apples, leaving the trees with just their leaves and branches and bark.
"Applejack!" a fancy voice called out. "Applejack!"
Her ears perked up, stopping her short trip to the next tree. "Rarity?" She looked at Big Mac.
Big Mac nodded.
"It's alright, sis'!" Apple Bloom said, waving at her while still holding the container on her head. "I'm sure it won't be long."
She sighed. "I hope you're right."
Then, she galloped off the fields on to the fenced dirt path that split them into two.
Rarity groaned as she tapped her hoof and brushed her mane by levitating a comb through her mane. She stood alone, with acres and acres of apple trees surrounding her.
"If only she could have attended!" she muttered. "That way, I would not have to do the dirty work of reminding her about what she must have heard already if she were responsible."
Hoofsteps.
She looked to the side. "Oh, look who's here," Rarity said, lowering her eyes and adopting a rude tone. "the only pony who missed out on a very important business."
Applejack moaned as she hopped over the fence and landed in front of the posh pony. "I'm not as uniformed as you think, Rarity! I got the newspaper and that was enough for me."
"So did everypony else, darling," Rarity said. "But, you were absent at Mayor Mare's speech."
"I'm pretty sure that I could get caught up to date with everything when I trot my way there," Applejack replied, a bit haughty herself. "It's not like everypony will magically ignore me just because I missed a speech."
Rarity sighed—grumbling under her breath. "You don't have to go to Ponyville to know, because the mayor sent me to her to tell you."
"Ya' memorized her entire speech?" Applejack said, smirking. "I'm impressed."
"What? No! I'm not here to waste my time reciting an entire adress verbatim!"
"So, le me guess—yer' gonna tell me the essential points, right?"
Rarity grumbled even more. "Yes. I could've been done by now if you did not stoop to delaying me about."
"Why didn't ya just say so?" Applejack asked, smirking again.
Rarity sighed again. "Alright—I myself don't want to waste your time either. Let's reconcile, ignore our squabbles, because if we don't, we're wasting everypony's time in something as dagnerous as this."
"Sudden change o' heart, huh?" Applejack said, still smirking. Then, a frown. "Yeah."
Rarity cleared her throat.
Applejack moved closer.
The two ponies stood on the path.
"The mayor called for volunteers to join Equestria's fighting force. Then, she requested everypony else that we should dedicate at least some of our working hours for the cause. The more we bring in, the sooner this war will end and everyone will be happier." And, she smiled.
Applejack lifted an eyebrow—a face of doubt. "That's it?"
"Well, I had to give you the essential points—nothing more, nothing less."
"Ya' could've sent me a letter!"
"Lots of ponies are not in their right mind now, including me!" Rarity exclaimed. "I didn't expect a war to come up this morning! I was planning to finish some special orders from Manehattan! I bet you didn't expect a war to come up today, too!"
"At least I'm already working for the cause," she retorted, pointing to herself and closing her eyes. "Providing the food for the town and even the nearby villages—we've been doing all that without havin' to be told. I'm certain that ponies won't be askin' for frou-frou dresses when they're facin' an army."
"How else will trade go on?!" Rarity said, lifting a hoof in the air. "I'm working for the economy! I'm working so that there'll be more bits for Equestria!"
And a hoof on her head.
"Rarity, I know yer' goin' crazy, but this is too much even for you."
Applejack lowered Rarity's head—the unicorn's face unflinching from its wide-eyed expression. Then, she let go.
She sighed.
"My apologies, Applejack," Rarity said—somewhat contrite in how she said it—"but these are extraordinary times! I have not planned nor even preplanned any of this—"
"And—" slowly trotting her way back to the fence "—you better be going. Funny, ain't it, being the pony who doesn't wanna waste anypony else's time?"
One last smirk under that simple country hat.
It was Rarity's turn to sigh before she turned around—"Then, farewell, Applejack."
A hop over the fence, back on to the fields, and—"Goodbye to you, too."
She waved at the walking unicorn—who then went on galloping.
Apple Bloom put down one more full container of apples, setting it beside the now-empty tree. Just beside her, Big Mac pummeled down yet another tree, bringing down yet another hoofful of apples—with Apple Bloom moving fast, jumping here and there, catching all the new apples without missing a single one.
Hoofsteps.
The two looked there, toward the path. "So, what did she say?" Apple Bloom asked, trotting up to her.
Big Mac, meanwhile, gave her a nod before kicking down still another tree—with its own set of apples falling down.
"Didn't tell me much," Applejack said, walking up on the clean grass to an unkicked apple tree, facing her sister. "She's gettin' mad over somethin' not that urgent. I already knew 'bout serving Equestira through this hard time—that's all she said, plus her goin' the usual motions."
"Of beratin' you?" Apple Bloom guessed, tilting her head a little in that guess.
Another kick, another group of apples.
"You could say that," Applejack said, looking wistfully at the blue sky where a few clouds were drifting by. Then, looking back down on her—with a swinging hoof and a tempered smile—"But, let's get back to work!"
And the three continued on in kicking down the apple trees, collecting the apples into baskets and then bushels.
A few birds perched on a tree's branch.
The tree was unique amongst the other trees in Ponyville. It was a stout tree—its thick bark implying a great resistance to force, but that could be said of a lot of trees in various forests. What truly made this tree unique was that it was fitted to be a library—for a sign standing beside the only door had an image of a book.
Glass windows of inconsistent designs were the sun's paths to liven up the inside—some windows were typical with their uniform straight lines, other windows were grated with diamond-like schemes, still others appeared organic and had tree-like frames about them. The roof, from the outside, was covered in dense foiliage—right then, two nests were housed on this canopy of leaves. The balconies and the entrance itself were also graced with ceiling-like covers of leaves—these ones different from the "main" roof since they had flowers sprouting up.
Inside was a grand circular room—that smell of musty wood and dusty books. The centerpiece was a rudely formed table with a stylized statue of a pony's head on top. The windows brought in the sunlight, beautifying the interior by letting the beams flow freely, shedding light on a few closed books that happened to be there. The bookshelves carved into the walls—not to mention a few cabinets also carved into the walls as well. The shelves were mostly full, many of them showing signs of disregard—not only dust but the yellowing of pages, too. Only certain titles garnered themselves the honor of being well-read—special among them was the row of "Daring Do" books: They were clean, sparkling, and still had bright white pages. The wooden stairs—with pink hearts engraved on each step—led to the second floor of the wooden library, but most of that could not be seen from the library proper.
Rarity and Mayor Mare walked about—Rarity in a tip-toe manner.
"What would you suggest be done with the Golden Oak Library?" the mayor asked, eyeing Rarity.
"Hmm." Her horn glowed as she floated a ladder from the ground and propped it up in front of a bookshelf. "It could serve as emergency shelter—it could hold up to quite a dozen ponies."
"Other than that," the mayor said, sounding disappointed—fixing her glasses. "I already thought of that one."
Rarity's horn stopped glowing. "It could do well as a general meeting place. The main area here is perfect for spreading the news to all of us here in an orderly fashion."
"That's good," Mayor Mare said, nodding as she bobbed her head up and down while skimming the shelves. "But, what about the books themselves?"
Rarity's eyes opened up at that. "Surely, you're not considering them as useless, mayor—are you?"
"The opposite, actually." She turned around to face Rarity. "I was thinking of transporting them to a safer location."
"Safer location?" Rarity repeated—about to stammer, a hoof forward. "I beg your pardon, but that would make the Golden Oak Library...only the Golden Oak."
"I'm a cautious mare," the mayor said, raising her voice a little. "We do not have enough unicorns to perform a shield spell for a library, and, honestly, a shield spell is more useful for places like the town hall with its archives or certain section of the houses here or Sugarcube Corner. And, the Crystal Empire has just emerged; what weapons do they wield?"
Rarity took in a deep breath. "It could be used as a defense position."
The mayor raised an eyebrow. Then, a smile crept up on her face. "Good idea, Rarity!"
"Well, if that is a good idea, what will we defend it with?"
Mayor Mare's smile quickly disappeared.
"You're right," the mayor said, pacing about.
Rarity's ears flayed, a subtle frown on her face. "I've never been a librarian nor a book lover myself, mayor, but..."
And, she trailed off, looking away to the open door through which she could see the streets of Ponyville.
A general panic still about, as several ponies talked loudly, boisterious. Others were clattering their teeth even as they spoke—or tried to speak—about what to do and what they did not want to lose. Some were already crying, but most of the ponies had not gone that route—they were just looking at each other, buying and selling and eating and drinking and walking and talking and flying and running without an ordinary smile but with a neutral face, a face that spoke neither a plain happiness or a plain sadness but a fear, a watchful fear.
No wonder, then, that the ponies shifted their eyes about frequently that morning.
Ponyville's train station was a modest place—too modest, maybe, for it looked worn and somewhat run down. Two buildings: the station itself, with signs of trains on it, and the guard station where a few ponies in no uniform at all looked about themselves with sharp eyes. Both buildings had hay roofs.
The shrilling whistle of an incoming train could be heard; one look to the left, past a tall green tree, and a colorful train was chugging on, closer and closer to Ponyville.
The only pony there, standing on the boarding platform, was Press Release—a unicorn mare with a roll of film as her cutie mark. With frizzled orange mane, a brimmy hat, and camera around her neck, she eyed the train over there in the horizon.