//------------------------------// // Coll'ottava // Story: A Duet For Land And Sky // by Estee //------------------------------// It took long enough for a hidden Sun to shift across the sky, and the movement of scant light through the barn windows had changed the angle of the shadows which fell across his body. When she'd started, the phantom castoff from the haystack had simply deepened the red at the edge of his left flank. But by the time she finished, they had crept up his back. Hues darkened within the mane, shifting the orange to something burnt, and his eyes... She hadn't told him everything: there were ways in which she still couldn't, not just yet. It had mostly been about the doctor, and everything which had come from what that stallion had done. About the hybrids. But the shadows had pooled in her brother's eyes and as his head dipped with the weight of truth, it seemed as if they might never go away. Heavy air drifted through the barn, brought multiple scents to her nostrils. The sweetness of the hay, a deep earthiness from some of the grain. Dust in the rafters (and she had to get those cleaned because nothing ignited faster than grain dust), and lingering oils which had been rubbed into the axles of the market cart. She could even pick up hints of brass from the handles of its drawers. But when it came to pony scents... there was a faint musk drifting in from the opposite corner. Most of that was the natural scent of a healthy stallion added to sweat, although it changed slightly when it came off the feathers. The olfactory signature of a hard worker. But from her brother... sorrow. She'd learned that it was possible to scent sorrow, something which had first happened for all three siblings on the same day. But it was usually a subtle odor, something where you had to be right on top of it... But the air was heavy, as it had been on that first day. And the emotion was nearly that deep. "AJ?" "...y'can talk t' me, Mac," she quietly offered. "Y'can ask what y'need to. Ain't sure Ah can answer all of it --" His tail wearily swished, just once: left to right, picking up a tangle of hay strands as it swept across the floor. His head dipped still more, and the yoke shifted against the back of his skull. "'It's classified' would've been easier," her brother quietly admitted, and she watched walls shatter behind his eyes. "I... I don't even know where to start..." "Wherever y'need to." He forced a breath, brought his head up enough to push the yoke back. "Does he know?" "What was done t' him? Yeah. Fluttershy told him. Same day as... the fight." The next part took a surprising effort of will, especially since it felt like the first time when understatement was almost verging on lie. "He didn't take it well. But Ah don't think he knows what he can do." Which entitled her to a deep breath of her own. "Means he may not have all that much control neither." "How -- how many are there?" "Dunno," she reluctantly admitted. "Twi was figurin' a few hundred on the low end. Way under two thousand at the high. But the only pony who knows is Gentle Arrival an' the last time Ah saw him, he thought he could bargain with the list. Make things that much easier for himself. But the Princess ain't buyin'." "A few hundred..." Mac breathed. "Or more." Because it had to be said, even if she didn't want to. "The ones who... got mixed with earth ponies..." The big body compulsively trembled. "Can they all hear? Speak?" Applejack sighed. "They're kinda... running on their own rules, Mac. 'Shy don't seem t' hear at'tall: she didn't react t' that one shout when even Pinkie picked up the note, an' teleports don't uproot her. Snowflake... he can at least sing one bar, but like Ah said, Ah ain't sure he knows he's doin' it. The rest of 'em -- we'll know when they're found." "This," her brother softly stated, "could break the Secret. One of them sings where somepony can see the results... Sun and Moon, if it happened in front of the wrong earth pony, they might..." Another shudder, one which went down to the bone. "Ah know," Applejack quietly replied. "Ah think that's part of why the Princesses are tryin' so hard t' find 'em." His eyes closed, and stayed that way until the shivering stopped. "They know? About..." She knew what he was facing: it was the same thought she'd had to deal with shortly after exiting the ravine. Something so basic that nopony thought about it at all. "Alicorns are part everythin', Mac." A tiny snort. "Except for crystals. Still don't know how that works... They know 'cause they can hear. They sing." Her own head dipped. "Kinda... kinda been wondering what they sound like --" -- oh no. Don't think of it, Mac. Don't... "Princess Luna's something deep," he distractedly replied. "AJ -- is that why you asked him out?" "Naw," she admitted. "Ah... Ah'd been lookin' at him for a while. Had t' explain the why t' Granny --" "-- then tell me." She did. And when she'd finished, her brother took a breath. "Still ain't mah type," he dryly said. "But y'make a decent case." The question was almost unstoppable, especially since it felt as if it had its own potential for distraction: something to keep her brother from thinking about Twilight's voice. "So what is your type?" It didn't quite work -- but there was something else distracting her sibling. "I heard him. I had to be the first to hear him. He lived in a pegasus settlement before he came here, didn't he? And he doesn't associate with much of anypony, so between the two, there was no chance to be heard. And he sounds like he's missing half the valves because he is. Because there's enough pegasus left at the core to displace where those chords would have been." "It's a fair theory," was the most honesty would allow her to say. His left forehoof came up, carefully pressed against his forehead. "It's... it's too much," Macintosh whispered. "It's too much to think about. It's too big, AJ. Every time I think I've got one part of it pinned down under a hoof, a hundred more spring up. It's like kudzu crossed with poison joke. This..." She stood up, quietly shifted her hooves across the dirty barn floor, turned and settled down next to him. Felt fast-heaving ribs pressing against her flank, pushed back that much harder. "Ah know," she softly told him. "Kinda puts you outta yourself, don't it? Makes you... not feel right for a while. You'll reconcile, 'cause Ah did. But it's too Tartarus-freed much t' deal with in a single afternoon. Jus'... try t' narrow it down. We can't do much 'bout all the ones who might be out there. But we can talk 'bout the ones around us." And snuggled closer. "The ones we care 'bout, Mac. The ponies we've loved for years." "'Daddy loved Pinkie'," her brother shakily quoted. "Sun and Moon..." And because it couldn't wait, "D'you? Still?" It felt like a long silence, and it also felt as if any amount of silence would have qualified for that. "...eyup," Macintosh said. "Still. Like a really annoying sister." And managed a snort. "Which, compared t' you two, is sayin' something --" -- which got him a foreknee to the ribs. "-- y'can stop right there." He did. They rested together for a while, feeling the warmth from each other's bodies. The presence. "How's his daughter doing?" "Tish?" Twilight had given Applejack the nickname towards the end of their meeting in the market square: it was something where she almost found herself preferring the fancy. "Gonna go t' Canterlot soon an' find out personally. Twi' says she's trainin', an' it's helping her feel better. Maybe not so much as gettin' t' paint, though. But..." She was entitled to a snort. "...Discord. Ah wanna see for mahself, 'cause Ah sure don't trust her teacher too far." "And it all happened," Macintosh quietly observed, "because she was an earth pony." The older sister sighed. "Rarity said... it's hard t' pin down the real beginning. Somepony had t' teach her father how t' hate, an' there was a pony before that... the blame could go back centuries, Mac. But if y'wanna figure for why he did what he did... Ah think he jus' broke, when his spouse died. Broke all the way, but with the cracks under the surface. Looked fine from the outside for a long time. He broke, he wanted some part of her back, an'... his daughter was an earth pony --" She felt like Rainbow at the seasonal card games, or at least her perception of how the pegasus tended to play. Going in on the world's worst grouping, when everypony at the table had already worked out what she had. "-- an' he didn't know she had any real magic at all." She sighed. "Can't say it would have been different if he'd known the truth, but... Ah was thinkin' 'bout us, Mac. Earth ponies, Ah mean. The ones who decide they can't raise a unicorn or pegasus foal, an' jus' -- leave 'em where they'll find new homes. He ain't so different, is he? He couldn't accept the daughter he got. But he didn't send her on. He jus' decided there was a chance t' change her, t' get the kid he'd dreamed of, an' he told her that she killed her mother..." He shuddered again. "And from that," her brother quietly said, "we get Snowflake. And Pinkie, and Fluttershy, and you said -- Ratchette. Just the ones we know about, and there's hundreds more..." "They would have died," she evenly reminded him. "Every last one of 'em. Had a hard enough time convincing Pinkie that she had a right t' be here. Where's the world without Pinkie an' 'Shy, Mac?" He didn't answer. He breathed, trembled and shook. Nothing more. "Kinda need an answer here." His eyes closed again. "He needs training." Applejack blinked. "An' it can't be either of us," Mac noted as the stress saturated his voice. "Y'aint great with that tool, not t' where y'could teach it, an' Ah've barely got it in the kit t' start with --" and groaned. "Sun's spots, it's gotta be Granny, don't it? We've gotta tell her, an' then she's our best chance t' keep him from breaking the whole thing. Somepony has t' train a pegasus. Buck mah life --" "-- Mac?" "...yeah?" "Y'know all the times y'asked what bein' a Bearer was like?" "All two of 'em. Yeah." "There's your answer." He choked on the laugh, leaned just a little bit of his weight against her. Enough to show her he was there. "An'," Applejack gently added, "Ah'm proud of you." Immediately, "Don't be. Ah sent those letters --" "Ah told you t' get out," and the shame began to highlight her skin beneath the fur. "Kicked you with the title," Mac reminded her. "Yeah, y'did, Lord Malus. We both said stuff." Her head dipped. "Said too much. An' there's things in there which we've gotta talk 'bout. Plus all the stuff from today... we have t' talk, Mac. Really talk, like we haven't done before." He sighed. "Yeah. But it has t' wait a little while. At least until we get him settled." "Tonight? After he's home?" "Okay --" -- and there was a soft knock on the barn door, followed by the tiny creak of hinges as it swung open. The siblings glanced at each other. Both slowly stood up, maintaining the contact for most of the way. Listened for signs of waking from the other corner, heard none, headed for the exit -- -- Granny nodded as she saw them approach, and the white tail flicked in the direction of the house. "Miranda wants t' see you," she told the siblings. "Both of you. Apple Bloom's already waitin'. Ah sent her down from her room after Ah heard the speech, so now they're both waitin' on you." Applejack blinked. "For what it's worth," the matriarch added, followed by a much drier "which don't seem t' be much these days... Ah'm okay with it. But it ain't mah decision. So you go hear her out." "Granny," Mac tried, "what's goin' on? Why is she here?" Applejack was looking up at him. "For that matter," she quickly said, "y'never got 'round t' sayin' why you're here. Instead of, y'know, jail. Is this somethin' t' do with the fight, Mac?" Or maybe Twilight's bail money had been recounted until it came up one coin short. He winced. "Too much t' talk 'bout, AJ: Ah can't tell you everythin' that's been goin' on while Ah'm hoppin' on mah back hooves! Granny --" "-- both of you," she interrupted. "Inside. Now." They looked at each other. "Um..." Applejack tried. "There's kind of a problem..." "Really," their granddam stated. "Can't imagine what that's like." The white tail lashed. "An' what's this one?" "Snowflake's in the barn." The elder squinted. "Is he now?" "Out cold," Mac failed to clarify. "Kinda pushed himself too hard. He was up all night, he flew me most of the way in --" "-- an' there was a fight," Granny interrupted. "...yeah." "Which you lost," she unnecessarily added. "So now he's in the barn, out cold. For some reason. Which y'can hopefully explain after Miranda?" "We can," the elder daughter valiantly tried. "But it's gonna take a while. Jus'... watch him? Make sure somepony's there when he does wake up?" "Ah can do that," Granny told them. "Jus' gotta fetch somethin' first. Meanwhile, you two get in there. The chief ain't exactly had the best day herself. An' when y'hear this..." The aged head slowly shook. "Well, like Ah said, Ah'm okay with it. But we'll jus' see what you two think, won't we?" She limped off towards one of the smaller sheds, with both siblings keeping a worried eye on that hip. And once she'd emerged again, they allowed themselves to head inside. The unicorn mare's coat blended perfectly into the majority of natural shadows. Turning on all the lighting devices in an attempt to fight back the grey outside the sitting room's windows turned her into a blot of weary darkness pacing around old furniture, never completely coming to a stop. Apple Bloom, who had managed to groom the tear tracks out of her fur, was watching nervously: the youngest had spent a lot of time in the chief's office, and... it had been a long day. Too long. Hours to go before Sun would be lowered, and it was already one of the longest days of Applejack's life. The unicorn rounded an end table, tucked her tail close in so as not to have it knock an ancient photograph away, and spotted the older siblings. "Good," she said. "Take a bench, both of you. I have something I need to ask you." And went back to pacing. "Y'can take one of the guest couches," Applejack offered as she climbed onto her favorite: the inner litany was taking a quick spiral into paranoia. Somepony saw somethin', Snowflake didn't set off the alarm 'cause it wasn't workin' and somepony else got through, but Granny wouldn't be okay with that, so that means Mac's 'pre-trial intervention' or however he was tryin' to explain it on the way in isn't good any more, 'cept Granny ain't gonna be happy 'bout that, maybe Elstar -- She had too many reasons to be afraid. They'd all spent some time in Miranda's office, usually while picking up Apple Bloom (and, after a while, with their saddlebags filled with bottles of sap remover), but she hardly ever came to the house -- and such visits tended to take place at the front door. The dark lips quirked. "I could," Miranda observed, "but you might have to pull me home in a cart." "Ah know where y'live," Applejack reminded her. "An' Ah can pad out the cart right nice." Which triggered a tired smile. "I'll take the chance, then." She slowly climbed up, sunk down into the padding and took several seconds before managing to comfortably tuck her legs. "It's a good old couch," Miranda wearily observed. "Holds the dents. I'd ask you to keep me in mind if you ever decided to put it out for a stable sale, but..." She sighed. "Let me clear up one thing right now: this visit isn't about any criminal activity. Nothing to do with new charges, or the deal Macintosh got from the prosecutor's office. It's more... personal." All three seated Apples blinked. "I didn't get much of a chance to thank you," Mac managed. "For what you said to Arraign." The unicorn lightly shrugged. "The PTI program exists for a reason, Macintosh: for the ones with clean records, who made -- one mistake. You're not exactly the only pony who's gotten in. But it's one chance." He silently nodded. Just once, and it was something which seemed to take all of his remaining strength: the big body sunk lower into his padded bench. Apple Bloom, far too tired, was on the verge of nodding off: her breathing was starting to slow, and the mane bow was slowly slipping forward. "And I understand your family members are on the way home," the chief added. "All of them. One of them apparently got off the train, had a green burst of flame go off in front of her snout, eventually read the results, and then got on the next train. Is it safe to assume that the situation has been resolved?" "More or less," Applejack forced. "Ain't nothin' y'gotta worry 'bout." "Am I going to hear the details?" There was an honest answer for that. "No." Grey-green eyes wearily closed for a moment, just before their owner willed them open again. "As expected. But I'd rather not talk about that right now. For today, it's enough that you settled your problem without anypony going into the cells." The cells would have been better. "So I want to say this," Miranda finished, "get it out there, and let you all think about whether you want to do it." "An' what does 'it' mean here, exactly?" Applejack asked. Their guest took a moment to compose herself. Hooves shifted a little, with ears twitching forward. "Are you willing to take in Scootaloo?" Apple Bloom's head jerked up. Mac's tail lashed at a speed which turned the tip into a little whip going into his own left flank. Applejack's mouth simply fell open, and the word "...what?" tumbled out. "As Macintosh is aware," Miranda calmly said, "and clearly didn't get the chance to tell you, Scootaloo's true living situation was recently exposed. I've been trying to speak with her parents for a very long time, the same way I spoke with you whenever the Crusade put Apple Bloom in my office. The same way I speak with the Belles. But I never could -- because they're not in town, Applejack. They haven't been in town for a very long time. As far as I can tell, she's been living alone for at least three years. And that's more than enough to qualify for abandonment." She... ...she doesn't have... ...all the times Ah kept hopin' for somepony t' step in, t' stop her, every time Ah went t' that house an' nopony came t' the door ...nopony at'tall Which was when those blended hues focused on the little vibration which had grounded itself in the mane bow of the youngest. "I have to ask this, Apple Bloom," Miranda added. "Did you know?" Their little sister trembled. "She said her parents traveled as part of their job," a weak voice softly said. "That we'd either just missed 'em, or they were going t' be coming in soon. Always there yesterday or comin' tomorrow, but never there today. An' we never wanted t' ask too much more, 'cause it got her upset. That she didn't see 'em as much as she wanted. But she said they trusted her t' take care of things, an' -- asked us not t' talk 'bout it, 'cause other ponies might not understand how important their jobs were. That they had t' travel. That they were jus'... great. The best parents anypony could ask for..." Her head went down again, almost tucked itself between yellow forelegs. "Which is just about exactly what Sweetie Belle said," Miranda gently told them. "Allowing for vocabulary and accent. I'm not blaming either of you, Apple Bloom. She had just about every adult in town fooled." The dark head slowly shook. "Shopping? Her parents were just sending her to pick up a few things, and she never carried too much at once. Paying bills? She had her own bank account, because you can get one when you're young if somepony sets it up for you. It gave her a place to deposit the vouchers, because they sent her one every moon." Which triggered a sigh. "And as far as the bank is concerned, all Mr. Croesus ever cares about is that money is coming into it. You can trust him to verify the authenticity of a voucher, and he'll always check the signature on any withdrawal. But wondering why a filly is managing the mortgage payments... not for a second. For everything else? They just happened to be out of town, and if somepony came knocking, she didn't have to let them in. And there were ponies who started to ask questions after a while, but there weren't enough of them. Some ponies say it takes a settled zone to raise a foal: I'm sure you've heard that one." All three managed some degree of nod, although Apple Bloom's had her chin bouncing off her legs. "It takes the same number of ponies," the mare wearily added, "to let one slip through the cracks." Applejack desperately focused, fought back against her own mental staggering and a sudden surge of self-blame. "But if you've got vouchers bein' sent," she frantically tried, "then y'know where they were sent from --" "The address is different each time," Miranda replied. "I have the most recent location, because apparently the 'traveling' part may be true. I sent a warrant to that settled zone, along with all the others which served as sending points and a few where they might go. But it may take a while before I get a reply." Darkly, "And I'm making an assumption." "...what?" Mac just barely got out. "That her parents have been sending them." And before any of the three could reconcile that, "So in order to --" The dark thought beat out the chief's next word, and a cloud of hatred began to spread through Applejack's heart. "-- Snowflake," she cut in, and loathed herself all the more: for Akane, for having been attracted, for everything. "If anypony knew --" an' kept that secret, an' jus' let her be alone -- "He found out two weeks ago, by accident," Miranda evenly told them. "He was trying to figure out what to do. He was afraid that if he told anypony, Scootaloo would wind up in an orphanage. Away from her friends, from Ponyville, from everypony who cared about her at all. And he knew she'd been managing by herself for a while, but he didn't know the scope of it. I spoke to him, Applejack: he thought it had been a couple of seasons. I'm not faulting him for this, and neither should you. If I had believed he bore responsibility, he'd still be in the freezer: aiding and abetting. But he was just trying to figure out if there was anything he could do, and he thought they might be coming home soon, because that's what she tells everypony: either soon or a little while ago. It's what Apple Bloom said: tomorrow or yesterday. Never today." Dark fur shifted, as they stared at her in shock. Pressed against the tired form, borne down by ever-present weight. "She loves them," the unicorn added. "That's... the worst part, I think. She kept talking about how great they were, how everything they did was so important, and that's why I didn't tell her about the warrants today. She loves shadows more than most ponies will ever love the real. And she thought that by living alone, she was freeing them to go and be great, until she finally got to join them. She doesn't understand that being left alone for so long is wrong." A long, slow breath, one which failed to expel any of the pain. "It's... going to be a while before she starts to see that. And when she does -- she's going to need help. A lot of it." Ah wish Ah had mah hat on. Ah wish Ah'd known this years ago. Ah wish mah parents were here. "An' y'came t' us." They were draining words. They took the last of her strength and sent it spiraling towards oblivion. "Under normal circumstances," Miranda said, "she would go to an orphanage. But I have some discretion in this, as long as I report my decision to Foal Welfare. She shouldn't be uprooted. She needs her friends more than ever, and a chance at some level of family structure. And when it comes to Scootaloo..." The police chief tossed off an oddly-light shrug. "There's a few ponies looking at her a little differently after this morning, and Macintosh can tell you about that later. But it's something which needs time to spread, and even so -- she has an earned reputation. That doesn't exactly encourage ponies to invite her into their homes." "Not when the Crusade could come with her," Applejack immediately observed. Miranda simply nodded. Apple Bloom's head sunk down a little lower. The older sister arched her neck forward. "Normally," the Bearer of Honesty softly said, "Ah wouldn't even expect this from the mayor. Ah know Marigold ain't always happy 'bout what hostin' the Elements does t' the settled zone, an' she finds little ways t' express herself. But she's got limits. Puttin' Scootaloo here, knowin' what the Crusade does -- y' jus' went past her, Miranda. And if'fin you're expectin' me t' be happy 'bout it --" "-- the Crusade," the chief broke in, "no longer has three Crusaders. I understand Apple Bloom has a part-time job now?" "Didn't have a shift today," the muffled voice informed the bench padding. "Wish Ah had." "Sweetie doesn't want to proceed on her own," Miranda quietly continued. "And as for the third... Applejack, she needs a place to stay. A family structure. And when anypony in this town thinks of family, they think of the Apples --" "-- I'm going to be a problem." They all looked at the stallion, watched the big body curling up on its bench. "I spoke to the Department," Miranda said. "Rather quickly. Scootaloo having openly forgiven you means something. I won't say they don't have some reservations, and they'll be sending ponies out to speak with her regularly. But as long as you stay in the PTI program --" "-- it ain't just that," he interrupted, and his features crumpled in misery. "I'm -- not going to be here." And then his sisters were staring at him, with company. "...say what now?" Applejack pitched her whisper. "You're -- you're leavin'?" Apple Bloom's voice was already halfway to a sob. "Y'can't --" "-- not yet," he told them, mostly speaking into his own legs. "Can't leave town until Ah finish the program, for starters. An' even after that, it wasn't gonna be right away. Ah was gonna tell y'tonight, Ah had to, but this -- Ah don't get t' wait, do Ah? Not for anythin', not any more..." He sighed, and his tail curled in over his mark. "Ah know she forgave me," their brother quietly said. "An' that means a lot. But it won't solve everything. There's probably always gonna be ponies in town who just see the stallion that kicked a kid, at least as long as the Trio's around. An' maybe Ah could live with that, but... Ah've been here too long. Took the last couple of days t' see it. Ah had reasons not t' go t' college, an' Ah think they were good ones. Ah had t' stay. But Ah also wanted t' go for a reason. Ah wasn't s'pposed t' stay on the farm mah whole life, an'... the longer Ah stay, the easier it is t' keep stayin'. For Scootaloo, it's yesterday and tomorrow, never today. Ah've gotta pick a day an' use it." The big head just barely managed to look up. "Ah'm reapplyin' t' college," he told his siblings. "For next autumn. That'll give us enough time t' -- change things over. T' get ready for it. Ah have t' go, an' if'fin y'hate me for that --" the tears were beginning to coat those matching eyes "-- Ah guess Ah could leave a little sooner --" It was a big bench: it had to be, to accommodate his form. But it wasn't quite big enough, and so they were reared up on their hind hooves, gently draping their bodies across whatever could be covered. "College," Applejack whispered. "Little old for a freshpony, ain'tcha?" "Yeah," he softly agreed. "That's why it's gotta be next autumn. Before Ah get too much older." "How y'goin'?" Apple Bloom softly inquired. "Gonna walk it, if it's Canterlot? We could take the trot with you..." "It's further out, if Ah get mah first choice. So it's gonna be a carriage," their brother decided. "Ah've got a ticket. It's still good." They stayed that way for a while, as Miranda silently regarded every picture and other piece of furniture in the room. And then the sisters went back to their benches, because there were still problems to resolve. "The point," Macintosh said after a few deep breaths, accent fading into the new calm, "is that if you're looking for a family structure, Miranda, we're going to be down one." "You're talking about next autumn," the chief countered. "I'm hoping it won't take anywhere near that long to resolve. And getting back to what Applejack was saying earlier..." The unicorn looked directly at the earth pony. "We've been through the dance a few times," Miranda noted, and her ears twitched. "The Crusaders do something, and then you're in my office. You mostly blame Scootaloo for it. Accurately." A side glance at Apple Bloom. "Don't deny it. All three of you have ideas, but she's usually the one who decides they'll work better if some part of the equipment is on fire." Apple Bloom managed a nod. "I understand that better now," the mare reflected. "Why she thinks she needs danger. But there you are in my office, Applejack, and it's the same old dance. You fret to the left. Hemming and hawing goes to the right. And eventually, we reach the chorus. 'Ah jus' wish somepony would corral that filly.' Because you want to do something, but you can't ever do anything more than the occasional yell or sending her off the Acres, because you have no legal right to go beyond that. Sound about right?" "Your accent needs work," Applejack decided. "But Ah don't see your point." Miranda subtly leaned forward. "You've been a parent for a while," the police chief reminded her. "Too long, in some ways." Maybe not the best parent, since Ah sort of wound up accidentally wagering mah little sister in a duel, an' Ah still have t' kinda explain that t' mah brother... "And you have been saying for years," Miranda continued, "that what Scootaloo needs more than anything else is somepony who can put reins on her. Well..." and a very small smile began to spread across the dark features "...as I understand it, you are about to start dating the only stallion to have ever partially gotten through. So now I want to add another part to that equation. You think Scootaloo needs discipline, somepony with the authority to tell her no. And if you let me place her here, Applejack, you won't be her parent -- but when it comes to telling her what to do, you'll legally have the authority of one." Green eyes slowly blinked. The rope loop fell away from the mane, and long blonde hairs scattered across the strong back. "Years of telling me that Scootaloo just needs discipline in her life," Miranda softly said. "How would you like to be the pony who provides it?" And slowly, oh so slowly, a singular, distinctive, slightly mercenary smile manifested on the farmer's face. It felt as if the red eyes had practically creaked open and when the first thing they took in was the too-close wrinkles sunken deep into green fur, a certain question was quickly brought to mind. "Where...?" Which mostly emerged as a croak: Snowflake's throat was rather dry, and he didn't feel completely focused. There had been a song, and then there had been a smile... "Figured you'd need a drink," the matriarch declared. A mug was nosed towards his right forehoof. "Had it ready for you." He managed a thankful nod, pushed his hoof through the loop, brought the mug up to his lips, swallowed while his nose was still processing hay and grain -- -- his ribs heaved, with his stomach doing its best to follow. Forehooves scrabbled against the barn's floor, and the amputations flared straight out at the same moment his tail curled in. "-- what is that?" The elder laughed. (Technically, it qualified as a laugh. 'Cackle' also would have worked, but the wickedness required for its use was still under evaluation.) "Cider!" "...cider," Snowflake repeated, at least after the coughing stopped. "Mostly cider," Granny Smith semi-clarified. "Made from apples. Mostly apples." And grinned. "Special blend. Ah keep some set aside for when Ah need t' wake up in a hurry. Better than that yellow cream they press at the cafes, ain't it?" He had no real answer for that. There was no argument against the brew's effectiveness: he was certainly awake. You had to be awake in order to perform the mental gymnastics required for calculating just how fast his heart was beating, along with counting the number of taste buds which had just died. It had been worse than his grasses and when it came to the health benefits, 'anti' seemed to be implied. "Been meanin' t' teach AJ the mix," she added. "Jus' been worried that she'll abuse it. So. Same day, if'fin you're wonderin'. In the main feed barn on the Acres. Mah grandson hauled you in. Can y'stand?" He managed to get his legs working, forced the mug off his forehoof, pushed against the blanket blanket? and regained his hoofing. "Good," the elder decided, and slowly got up. (Too slowly: he could see the problems which that hip was causing, immediately thought of a few exercises which could help.) "But you're gonna need more than cider, after the day you've had. So... guess who's comin' t' dinner?" The remnants of his wings weren't responding to the fold order. His tail, however, was beginning to unkink. "Dinner," he repeated, mostly because it was a word and his mouth was working, even if his tongue was still threatening to leave. He didn't attend dinners at other ponies' homes -- all right, Fluttershy, but he brought his own food so as not to do any fiscal damage to the contents of her pantry -- "Little early yet," Granny casually admitted. "But you'll stay. Ah wanna meet the pony who's gonna be datin' my granddaughter." Snowflake blinked. "I --" "-- an' talk t' him," she added. "Mostly 'to'. Ah understand y'ain't much good at the talkin' back part." Fold, come on, fold... "There was something about --" He didn't know how much she was aware of, was afraid to be the one who told her. "-- scrolls..." Her head briefly dipped. "Settled," she quietly said. "All settled now. She's made her choice, an' it'll be honored. That's all you've gotta know for now. An' since she made her choice, Ah'm hopin' you'll honor it too." And, sharply, with the right forehoof stomping against the barn floor using a strength which had never completely faded, "Honor her." He pulled back a little: he couldn't help it. The movement came from instinct alone, and misdirected impulses had his wings picking that exact moment to lock into the rest position. "Ah'll understand," she added, "if it don't work out. Nopony's forcin' you t' stay. Freedom of choice, that's what this was about. An' that includes the freedom t' trot away. But after all this jus' t' get a first date --" and the rest emerged at the same moment as the next stomp "-- Ah want there t' be a first date. Y'hear me?" He seemed to have very little strength left, and most of it went into the nod. "Good," the town's last living founder told him. "Y'can listen an' think. Ah'll call that a good sign." Which was followed by a small shrug. "So. Where y'from? Originally." "...Las Pegasus," was arranged by his tongue at the same moment it decided to forbid him the joy of salt. "Huh," Granny considered. "So you're used t' food from all over, 'cause that's a settled zone which needs ponies t' be comfortable. An' it mostly tries for that through tryin' t' have parts of the Spiral be every other settled zone. That's right, ain't it?" The restaurant district in his birth home was a vast one, and mostly consisted of everypony else's restaurant districts: for food, Las Pegasus arguably had everything except Mr. Flankington, and that was a gap which didn't need filling. "Pretty much." "Then dumplings," she decided. "Can't be on the Acres for a first dinner an' not get dumplings. We'll jus' hope Rainbow don't show up." "Rainbow --" was also a word. "Filches most of 'em," the elder chuckled. "Mare can't cook, so she jus' lets everypony else do it for her. An' she thinks we don't know. Now follow me out. Barn ain't the best place t' talk, an' Ah figure the sitting room should be clear soon, if it ain't already. Once y'wash up a little --" Hinges creaked, and both ponies stopped. Listened while multiple hooves approached. The orange form stopped first, a little away from her granddam. The red was just a little to the back of that, and the yellow filly shyly blinked from her half-shrouded place behind his sheltering tail. He saw that, and then he was looking at her again. At the mare who... wanted to go out with him, because he'd never seen her like that before, not with tail and mane unbound. He hadn't known her hair was so thick. Fluttershy's tail was by far the fuller, but Applejack's had denser stands. There was weight there, and power within every movement: something echoed as she tossed her head and her mane shifted across her back and sides -- "Ah was hopin' you'd be up," she said. "Got two favors t' ask you." He waited. "Somepony's waitin' at the main gate," Applejack told him. "Ah'd appreciate it if you'd help us walk her in. An' after that, Ah'm askin' -- well, Ah guess we both are -- if you'd go t' her house an' fetch her things, 'cause you're the only pony she'll probably trust t' do it." All he could do was blink his confusion. The elder simply smiled. "So we're doin' this?" Granny asked, with the twinkle in her eyes stating she already knew the answer. "We are," her elder granddaughter said. "Gonna be interestin'." "Ah'm hopin' for a touch of boring," Applejack declared. "T' start." And returned her attention to Snowflake. "So can y'help?" "Whose house?" Ponies who trusted him to -- -- wait... She looked at his expression. Tilted her head a little, just like her granddam. And then she smiled. "It's just for a little while," Scootaloo happily decided, steadily trotting at Apple Bloom's right, tail lofted high with confidence and pride. "It'll be like a really long sleepover!" "If'fin y'say so," the youngest Apple replied. "But Scoots -- we don't know how long it'll --" "-- and think about all the things we can do together!" Her voice rose, and did so in a way which magnificently ignored the fact that they were moving at the front of the pack, making anything less than total silence into a full-scale reveal for anypony who was moving behind them: namely, a trio of adults. "You know... we never get that much time to plan when it isn't summer, but since we'll be living together --" Apple Bloom's tail whipped to the right. "-- ow!" Almost calmly, "Scootaloo?" "What did you do that for?" "Ah told you Ah was done." More softly, "Ah ain't changed mah mind. Ah'm workin' in the fix-it shop, an' that's how Ah'm gonna get mah mark." (Behind them, well out of direct sight, an orange face beamed with sudden pride.) "Y'wanna Crusade? We can talk 'bout things that might bring your mark out. But it's no more zip lines, no ropes, no flamin' hoops. 'cause Ah care 'bout you, an' --" Years momentarily sank into the yellow back, bowed it down. "-- Ah lost enough today." The little pegasus stared at her. "What happened?" "It was a bad day," Apple Bloom quietly answered. "That's all Ah wanna say right now. But havin' you back, as a friend -- that would help. Ah really need a friend right now, Scootaloo -- but not a Crusader. An' if y'still think that's the only way we can spend time t'gether, say so. An' Ah'll go get Chief Rights." Silence for a moment, but for hoofsteps on the chill road. The adults simply watched. "Y'came t' me at the station," the little earth pony reminded her. "I needed to make sure you were okay. After everything --" "-- y'left the hospital t' make sure Ah was okay. T' try an' keep mah brother out of prison." (The big red head dipped again. The white body moved a little closer.) With open confusion, "You're my friend." "An' is that enough?" Five more hoofsteps, with the house coming into sight. "...I guess so," the pegasus too-openly fumed. "If you're not into cool stuff any more..." "There's all kinds of cool stuff in the shop. Maybe Ah can show you some." Paused. "Once Miss Ratchette an' Ah are on good enough terms that Ah can ask her t' let you in again." "Cool stuff," the pegasus dubiously considered. "Yeah." "Well -- you've found a few things before..." The scent of cooking drifted towards them. Everypony took a moment to inhale. "Living together," Scootaloo said. "For as long as it takes." "They'll be back soon," the pegasus confidently said. "They'll explain. It'll all work out." Three sets of adult eyes briefly closed. "And in the meantime," Scootaloo abruptly realized, wings flapping with sudden excitement and parting her forehooves from the path, "we'll be like sisters!" "...sisters?" Apple Bloom asked. "We'll be in the same house! Part of the same family! ...for a little while. So we're sort of sisters, right?" "Sisters," the yellow filly thoughtfully repeated. "Yeah! I've never had a sister! This could be amazing --" "-- Scootaloo?" "...what?" The next words emerged as a solid statement of fact. "Ah'm older than you." A little too quickly, "Well, yeah. A moon and a half. What's that got to do with anything --" "-- an' that makes me the big sister. Ah've been told that comes with responsibilities." The adult mare was starting to smile. There was the smallest degree of tremble in flared wingtips. "I don't know what you're talking about --" "-- Ah," Apple Bloom happily declared as she cantered towards the front door, "get t' tell you when you're being stupid. Let's go set up your bed!"