“You sure you don’t want to stay for lunch?” Applejack called out to her, standing in the shade of the farmhouse’s porch.
Apple Bloom dropped her suitcase into the back of the little cart and wiped the sweat from her brow.
“No, sis,” she said. “I’ve gotta get goin’ if I don’t want to miss my train.”
Yesterday’s heat had continued into today, as Apple Bloom had suspected it would. It did little to quash the nervous excitement that had gathered in her core.
“Well, at least let me bag up some fritters for you,” Applejack said. “In case you get hungry on your trip.”
“It’s only an hour from here to Filly. I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “You’re turning down fritters?”
“…Well, I never said that…”
“That’s what I thought,” Applejack said, chuckling. “Be back in a minute.”
Applejack disappeared through the house’s screen door, its rusted spring squealing in protest as it pulled closed behind her.
Apple Bloom bit her lip. Replacing that was supposed to have been her job, had been for a while, but amongst everything that had been happening lately she’d never gotten around to actually doing it. She glanced towards the tool shed, out to the side of the house. Maybe she had time…
“Don’t worry about it,” said Big Mac, as if he’d read her mind. Apple Bloom started; she hadn’t heard him coming up behind her. He could be awfully quiet sometimes, despite his size.
“You sure?” Apple Bloom said, turning around to face him. “I could—”
He set a crate into the back of the wagon; the sound of rattling glass could be heard from inside. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. “You’ve got a train to catch. You ready to go?”
“Almost,” she said.
“Well, you’d better hurry. I’ve only got one more crate left to load.”
“Those the preserves for Mr. Rich?” Apple Bloom asked.
“E’eyup,” he said. He shot her a sideways glance. “Couldn’t help but notice we were runnin’ a little short on cider bottles while I was down in the cellar packin’ em, though. You know anything about that?”
“Nope!” Apple Bloom lied. Big Mac chuckled.
“Well, you get on,” he said, turning back towards the barn. “An’ don’t forget to say goodbye to Granny before we go.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The inside of the house wasn’t much cooler than the outside. Apple Bloom headed up the wooden steps to the second floor and made her way down the hall. Granny’s room was the third door on the left; she pushed it open, just a crack.
“Granny?” she asked, softly. “You awake?”
“Just about,” came a strained voice from inside the room. Apple Bloom smiled and walked in.
Time had not been so kind to Granny Smith. Her breaths were heavy and carried a rasp; her coat was grey and patchy. Cataracts had robbed her of most of her sight years ago. Arthritis had taken her limbs.
Granny’s head slowly turned to face Apple Bloom, who stood beside the bed.
“I’d have thought you’d have left by now,” she said.
“I wasn’t gonna leave without sayin’ goodbye. You taught me better than that.”
Granny Smith chuckled. It came out more like a wheeze. “You bet’cher behind I did.”
Apple Bloom giggled. They were both quiet for a few moments.
“It’s gonna be lonely ‘round here, without you on the farm,” Granny said.
“You’ll still have Applejack,” Apple Bloom said. “An’ Big Mac. They’ll take care of ‘ya.”
“You know that ain’t what I mean.”
Granny Smith’s smile grew mischievous.
“O’course, that’s assumin’ you end up stayin’ in the city.”
“Huh?” Apple Bloom asked, tilting her head slightly.
“Us Apples have a habit of comin’ home earlier n’ we expect,” Granny Smith said. “Your sister did, anyhow.”
“You mean when she got her cutie mark?”
Granny nodded. “M-hm. And your pappy, too. He tried to run out west, back when he was your age. Didn’t even make it a day!”
“Really?” Apple Bloom said. “You’ve never told me that story before.”
“That’s ‘cause it ain’t much of a story to tell,” Granny said. “ One day he just up an’ left, all gung-ho about findin’ somewhere new to settle down with your ma. This was back durin’ the last big westward expansion, you see, it was the trendy thing to do. Well, by the next morning he was back an’ working the orchard. Wouldn’t tell nobody why he’d come back, neither!”
Apple Bloom frowned. “Why not?”
“Well, it didn’t need to be said, did it?” Granny said. “He just realized that Ponyville’s the place we’re supposed to be, that’s all. Don’t matter how.”
Apple Bloom wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Silence filled the dusty little room for a few moments.
“Well, you should probably get goin’,” Granny Smith said. “Before you miss your train! Come here and give your old granny a hug first, though.”
Granny Smith reached up towards Apple Bloom, her frail forelegs trembling, loose skin hanging off them like leather. Apple Bloom didn’t hesitate for a moment as she returned the gesture.
“I’m gonna miss you, Granny.”
“I know.”
They parted.
“I’ll come back to visit,” Apple Bloom said. “Promise.”
“I know you will, Apple Bloom,” Granny Smith said. “I know.”
Apple Bloom turned towards the door. However…
“Apple Bloom?”
She looked back.
“Yes, Granny?”
“I—”
Granny Smith seemed to start to say something, but then froze. She lay there motionless for a few seconds, her mouth open.
“Granny? Are you okay?”
This seemed to break whatever spell she’d been under, because immediately she relaxed.
“Nevermind,” she said, smiling. “Go on now.”
Apple Bloom nodded and headed for the door. A general unease, however, had settled in her stomach.
For just a moment, she could have sworn Granny Smith had looked scared.
“You take care now!” Applejack called after them from the wireframe archway that marked the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres. “Don’t forget to write, y’hear?”
“I won’t!” Apple Bloom called back.
She turned her head forwards. Big Macintosh walked beside her, pulling the cart along the dirt road that lead into town. The sound of the cart’s wooden wheels crunching the dirt beneath them followed behind.
She could see Ponyville, in the distance. Sweet Apple Acres was a fair distance away from the main part of the town, but it was also slightly higher up, and so from the top of the path Apple Bloom could see almost all of it. Everything from the thatched roofs of the houses, to the sculpted swirls of Sugarcube Corner, to the clocktower, standing resolute at the edge of town.
“You gonna miss it here?” Big Mac asked, catching her looking.
“Of course,” Apple Bloom replied.
“It’s not too late to change your mind, y’know.”
“I know,” Apple Bloom said. “But I’m not gonna.”
They kept walking. Soon enough, they’d entered the town proper, enclosed by painted walls and thatched roofs. The roads grew more even, and their cart rolled without issue.
Even for a day as hot as this one, the town bustled with activity. It was market day in Ponyville, and as they neared the town’s center vendors began to dot the sides of the street. The sounds of haggling and bits changing hooves filled the air, joining the shrieks and cheers of foals as they played among the stalls.
Big Mac brought the cart to a halt.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ve gotta go deliver these to Barnyard Bargains. You want to go on ahead to the train station?”
“Sure,” Apple Bloom said. She circled around to the back of the cart to retrieve her suitcase. “You’re gonna be done before the train leaves, though, right?”
He nodded. “Promise. Filthy’s already paid for ‘em, anyway, so it shouldn’t take long.”
“Alright. But I’m holdin’ you to that.”
Apple Bloom set her suitcase on the ground. It had a set of rollers on the bottom, so all she had to do was pull it along.
The two parted ways, Big Mac heading down a side street towards the general store, and Apple Bloom continuing on towards the train station.
The door squealed as Applejack stepped back into the house. She pulled her hat off and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She’d completed the last of her morning chores; now it was time to make lunch. She replaced her hat and headed towards the kitchen.
It would only be lunch for three, today, so she wouldn’t have to do much. Sandwiches would be easiest; she was pretty sure they had some celery left in the pantry. That would be good on a day like today.
As she reached for the handle of the pantry door, however, she thought she heard the sound of creaking floorboards overhead.
She paused. Her ears twitched. There it was again.
She rolled her eyes.
“Granny,” she called out. “Are you up? You know the doctors said you’re supposed to stay in bed!”
No answer, but the creaking seemed to stop. Satisfied, Applejack returned to her work.
The train was waiting for her when she arrived. It was the same engine they’d been using since they’d first opened the station, back when Apple Bloom had been just a little filly. Some things never changed.
She hauled her suitcase up the wooden ramp that lead up to the platform. The station was mostly clear, with only a few ponies waiting around. Good; that meant she wouldn’t have trouble getting a seat to herself. She headed over to the ticket booth.
“Good afternoon,” the ticket vendor said as she approached the window.
“’Afternoon,” Apple Bloom replied. “One ticket to Fillydelphia, please.”
He nodded. “Should I make that a round trip?”
“One way’s fine.”
“Alrighty,” he said. “That’ll be ten bits.”
She’d known what the fare was already, of course, and she’d already set aside the bits into a smaller pouch, which she pushed through the hole in the bottom of the window. The teller undid the knot and counted out the bits, then passed the empty pouch and her ticket back to her.
“Enjoy your trip,” he said as she tucked the pouch back in her bag.
There was a clock, on the wall of the station; it read forty past eleven. Twenty minutes. She made her way to one of the benches that lined the back of the platform and sat down.
She glanced around the platform again. Still no sign of Sweetie Belle, or of her brother. She bit her lip. Her brother would be along soon, she was certain, but Sweetie…
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried, because not a minute later the mare herself came bounding up the station’s steps.
Slightly red in the face, Sweetie looked up and down the platform. Apple Bloom waved to her, and was quickly spotted.
“Sorry,” Sweetie said, trotting over to the bench. “I lost track of time.”
“You look like you just ran a marathon,” Apple Bloom said.
“It’s the heat,” Sweetie replied, wiping her brow. “It should be illegal to go outdoors when its this hot.”
“It’s not that bad,” Apple Bloom said, poking Sweetie Belle in the side. “You’re just a prissy pony.”
“I am not! I’m just… delicate!”
“Uh huh,” Apple Bloom said, smirking. “Sit down before you fall over, you delicate lil’ thing.”
Sweetie pouted, but she obliged the offer anyway and took the seat next to her on the bench. She glanced up and down the length of the platform.
“Where are the rest of your bags?” she asked.
Apple Bloom gestured to her suitcase, sitting on the ground in front of her. “Right here.”
“That’s all you’re bringing?” Sweetie exclaimed.
“Uh… yeah?” Apple Bloom scratched the back of her neck. “Why?”
“B-but you’re moving!”
“So?”
“So you’ve got to be bringing more stuff than that!” Sweetie said. “What about clothes? Keepsakes? Furniture?”
Apple Bloom tapped the side of her suitcase. “Got all I need of the first two right here. Never thought about furniture, but we can always pick somethin’ up in Filly. ‘Sides, there ain’t anything up at the farm worth bringin’. I swear, some of that stuff’s been around since before Granny was born.”
Sweetie leaned back into the bench.
“I dunno,” she said. “It feels wrong that everything you’re bringing from here fits into one tiny suitcase.”
“Well, how many would you need, if you were the one moving?”
“Oh, three, at least,” Sweetie said. “And I’d have to pay someone to cart everything I couldn’t bring on the train. Probably… a half a dozen boxes, to hold everything. And I’d want to bring some of my furniture.”
“There’s not much point in movin’ away from home if you’re just gonna take home with you,” Apple Bloom said.
Sweetie frowned. “I don’t see what’s so bad about that.”
“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.”
Sweetie Belle shot her a questioning look and opened her mouth to speak, but Apple Bloom’s attention was drawn away by the arrival of Big Macintosh before she had the chance. His heavy hoofalls sounded loudly upon the wooden floor of the platform as he approached them, free of his wagon and harness.
“Cutting it a bit close, huh?” Apple Bloom said, glancing up at the clock. Eight minutes to noon.
“I said I’d be here before the train left,” he said. “Train’s still here, so I’d say I’m right on time.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“All aboard!” the conductor cried. “Twelve o’clock to Fillydelphia! All aboard!”
Apple Bloom sighed and stood up.
“Guess this is it, huh?” Sweetie said.
“Yep.
She hugged each of them in turn, first Big Mac, then Sweetie Belle.
“I’m gonna miss the heck out of you,” Sweetie said.
“Me too,” Apple Bloom replied. She pulled out of the hug. Her shoulder came away slightly damp.
Then she smiled, turned, and headed towards the train.
Applejack climbed the last of the stairs up to the second floor of the farmhouse carefully, trying very hard not to drop the tray balanced on her back. She had a long day still ahead of her; the northern orchards needed to be checked for tangleflies, and the job would only be made harder without Apple Bloom around to lend a hand.
But first, she needed to bring Granny her lunch. The door to her room stood closed; Applejack walked up to it and knocked.
“Granny! Lunchtime!”
No response.
“Granny?” she called again.
Still nothing.
“Must be asleep,” Applejack muttered. She considered letting her be… but no, the old mare needed to keep her strength up. At least, that’s what the doctors had said.
“Alright, Granny, I’m comin’ in,” she said, and reached for the doorknob. The door slid open with little resistance.
“Got some of your favourites today,” she said. “Daffodil and celery—”
Applejack froze, mid-sentence.
Granny Smith’s bed was empty.
She chose a seat in the first car, slumping against the side slightly so she could see out the window. The summer sun warmed her shoulder as it filtered through the glass.
Soon enough, she felt the familiar shudder of the train’s brakes unlocking. With a long blow of its whistle, the train eased into motion, letting out jets of smoke and steam which clouded the station from her vision. The gentle vibrations of its motion put Apple Bloom’s heart at ease. Through the window, she could see Sweetie and Big Mac waving to her. She waved back until the train pulled too far away to see.
She was off.
The train picked up speed quickly. The thatched roofs and wooden houses of Ponyville gave way to grassy hills and picturesque fields, the kind found on the backs of postcards. Apple Bloom watched through her window as they sped by, thoughts drifting.
In less than an hour, if all went well, she would be in Fillydelphia. With a little luck, she’d be there before they were supposed to meet the landlord.
“Ticket, miss?”
Apple Bloom started, but it was just the ticket collector, coming around with his punch. She held out hers.
“Ah, Fillydelphia, huh?” he said, his little machine click-clicking as it marked her ticket. “Lovely place to visit.”
“Oh, I’m not visiting,” Apple Bloom said.
“Oh. My condolences.”
Apple Bloom blinked.
“What’d you say?”
“I said, ‘I hope you enjoy your time there’.” He smiled, tipped his hat, and moved on to the next passenger. A faint wooden clattering sound seemed to follow him, though it might just have been the noise of the train.
Apple Bloom, frowning, turned back to her window.
The land around Ponyville really was beautiful, she thought, looking out at the rolling fields. So much of her foalhood had been spent out here. So many crusades. And other things.
There had been one summer, a few years back, when she, Sweetie, Scootaloo and a few of the other Ponyville foals had come out here, armed with a picnic basket and a bottle of whiskey Pinchy had swiped from her mother’s stash. They’d spent the entire day out there, morning through sundown and well into the night.
Needless to say, the bottle had emptied faster than the basket. Of course, that had been the night Scootaloo had—
The shrill blast of the train’s whistle startled her out of her reverie. It continued incessantly, one blast, then another, then another.
“What in tarnation…?” Apple Bloom mumbled under her breath.
Then came a sudden lurch, and the squealing of brakes. Apple Bloom was nearly thrown off her seat.
“What is going on up there?” one of the other passengers said.
“Are we stopping?” asked another.
The whistle blasts continued, forming a bizarre harmony with the squealing of the breaks.
Thump.
“Did we hit something?” someone asked.
“Someone must have left something on the tracks!”
“Sounded like a bale of hay or something.”
“Well, we’re still slowing down, we’ll see in a minute.”
And they were right; the train continued to slow, breaks still squealing, until at last it had stopped completely.
Apple Bloom rose from her seat, leaving her suitcase behind. She wanted to see just what it was they’d hit, if only to alleviate her own concerns.
She’d heard something distressingly wet in the impact.
The first thing that hit her upon stepping out of the car was the smell. Metallic. Acrid. It burned her nostrils, but whether it was from the train’s brakes or something far worse, she couldn’t say.
She looked back down the tracks, back the way they’d came, shading her eyes with a hoof.
She could see something lying on the ground, some thirty meters behind them. What it was, she couldn’t tell, but it might have been a—
Numbly, she turned towards the engine and began walking.
Two of the train ponies were already there. They turned at her approach.
“Ma’am, don’t,” one of them, the engineer, said, stepping in front of her. “You don’t want to see this.”
She brushed past him, walked past the other one, came up to the front of the train, and halted dead in her tracks.
Her torso had embedded itself into the slats of the cowcatcher. Her chest had been mangled, her neck folded wrong, her head twisted sideways, one leg torn completely off, but it was still, unmistakably, undeniably…
“G-Granny?” Apple Bloom choked out, and then the bile came up.