Twilight Sparkle sat in her crystal studying chair. Around her lay stacks of books calling out to be read. But she ignored them all, her face instead buried in Magical Derivations. She studied the complex formula filling two whole pages, composed of all sorts of constants, variables and dimensionless units. Frequently she turned back to earlier chapters to reread important passages or flipped ahead to consult the appendices.
Knock! Knock! Twilight lowered the book to find a familiar stallion standing at the door. “Big Mac!” she greeted, masking her surprise by his unexpected visit.
“Mornin’ Miss Twilight,” he said in a slow drawl.
After a long pause, she asked, “Is everything alright?”
Big Mac's face darkened. “Nnope.”
Twilight immediately cast the book aside and motioned him to her comfy chair. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Stopping to inspect the chair, he at last took a seat, his large frame barely able to squeeze between the armrests. He sat there looking at Twilight, apparently attempting to decide what to say. Finally, after an uncomfortable stretch of time, he confided, “Ah’m worried ’bout Applejack.”
Twilight’s eyes went wide. “Applejack? What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s not actin’ like herself... not since the funeral.”
“It has hit her pretty hard,” she noted.
Big Mac shook his head. “No. Ah remember how she was after our folks died... an’ when Grand Pear passed. This is different.”
Leaning forward, Twilight prompted, “What do you mean?”
“She’s hardly said two words the last three weeks. Ah talk more ’n her, an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’. An’ she’s always out workin’ in the fields or the orchards. ’Cept for breakfast an’ supper... when she feels like eatin’.”
Twilight gasped, “She’s not eating?”
“Some meals she eats, others... she just pokes at her food an’ says she ain’t hungry. Ah don’t think she’s starvin’, but she don’t eat like she used to. But after dinner, it’s real strange.”
“How so?” urged Twilight, now perched upon the edge of her seat.
“She always used to spend time wit’ her family – readin’ a book, playin’ the fiddle or helpin’ Bloom wit’ her homework. But now she goes straight ta bed. Or...” he trailed off.
“Yes?” pressed Twilight.
“Or she’ll go out an’ watch the sunset then stare at the stars ’til late.”
“That doesn’t seem like Applejack at all,” thought Twilight out loud.
“Nnope.”
“Have you tried talking to her? Let her know you’re worried about her?”
Big Mac nodded. “Both me an’ Bloom. But she says nothin’s wrong. We cain’t get anythin’ from her, even when she does talk.” He shook his head in frustration. “It’s like she’s closed herself off from us.” He looked at Twilight, desperation written upon his face. “You bein’ one of her best friends, ah was hopin’ you might’ve heard somethin’.”
“No, she hasn’t told me anything.” Twilight leaned back, reflecting on her interactions with Applejack over the past few weeks. “I’ve spoken with her a few times. I’ve invited her out to several things me and the girls do, but she always says she’s too busy.”
“That ain’t an excuse. It’s not much busier than before.”
“I thought she just needed time to grieve. How could I have not noticed?” She slumped in her chair.
Big Mac asked, “What are we goin’ ta do?”
Twilight thought for a while, then sat up straight with a look of determination. “I’ll talk with the other girls and ask if they know something or if they’ve seen anything.” She reached over and put a reassuring hoof on his. “Trust me, we’ll get to the bottom of this and help Applejack.” Big Mac returned a weak smile. “You’ll be the first to know when I find out something.”
“Thank ya kindly, Miss Twilight.” He rose from his chair and headed for the door.
“Thank you for coming. I– I just didn’t realize how serious things were.”
Big Mac merely nodded then left the room.