A Duet For Land And Sky

by Estee


Harmony

The house was silent.

It felt as if somepony should have noticed that a long time ago, especially from the outside. Those who lived nearby... surely they must have registered that the usual little indistinct babble of conversation wasn't gently vibrating windows, or that there was never a single muffled yell after a family fight. But the backyard occasionally hosted those few Crusades which could operate on the most local scale, and so perhaps silence had represented nothing more to those neighbors than relief. At least the filly was quiet at night. And that so many of the silent windows were dark? She was clearly going to bed more or less on time, her parents got in late (when nopony could see them) and left early (same), so you wouldn't expect to see much in the way of lights. You wouldn't think about a custodian who was carefully trying to conserve the charge on every device, because not everything could be taken to a shop for replenishment and it was too risky to invite an adult in...

It made Snowflake wonder how much longer it could have lasted, with Miranda having moved beyond mere suspicion and steadily-dwindling thaums. Scootaloo would have needed to bring somepony in eventually, if only for maintenance. But once she'd fully come into her own magic, she could have learned to replenish the charge levels on the wonders. And for devices, dealing with unicorn enchantments... she might have just been waiting on Sweetie's first true corona, and the celebration of discovering her friend's trick could have easily led into a request to show the pegasus just what a fully-active field could do.

A silent house, but for his own hooffalls. The lack of sound pressed against his ears, threatened to reopen closed wounds while inflicting its share of fresh ones.

Exploration was unintentional, and also unavoidable. As a guest, he had only been on the lower level, and that but briefly. It meant he had to find her bedroom, and... he found the other one first.

It was the cleanest room in the house. Every dresser had been polished, while the bedsheets showed the wear which came from having been washed far too many times in anticipation of return. There were a few trinkets on top of the nightstands: highly-polished rocks, little pieces of plants which had been trapped in amber, failing to truly glint in the scant amount of grey light which had made it through fully-drawn curtains. But there was something missing --

-- photographs. There wasn't a single framed picture of filly and parents together, not in that bedroom. No paintings. The neighboring bathroom was dusted regularly, which was easy when there was no grooming equipment occupying the little shelves.

The bed had been made. But the sheets were rumpled in the exact center of the mattress. Right where a filly's sleeping form might have rested between two absent bodies.

Just about everything was clean, because those were the instructions she had been given. But it was something which only held true for the places she could reach: without true flight, the ceiling fixtures were on their own, and so a thick coating of blackening dust had built up on the clockwork fans. Quite a bit of the cookware had clearly gone unused. And with time in the silent house, time in which he couldn't help but look...

There was an open ledger in the living room, with the pages covered in Equestria's Worst Mouthwriting. It was a lack of style he had experience with, and so his mind was able to translate some of the ink blots. Budgeting. Working out exactly what had to be spent from each voucher in order to keep the bills paid, something she was so utterly faithful with as to never have put a single tenth-bit of that allotment towards the Crusade. A level of loyalty which turned some part of her own spending money into coins she'd scavenged from the street.

He wanted to bring some of her favorite snacks along, and so saw the contents of a refrigerator which was only storing food for one.

And in her sanctuary...

He found the pictures, and then he very carefully failed to remove anything from the drawer which had been made into something very much like a shrine.

There was a double-sided checklist. On the left, things she had tried to gain her mark, furiously crossed off, added to that which hadn't been attempted yet and so had the relative clarity of desperate hope. On the right, things she believed the absent to be doing, and how her freshly-manifested skill might assist in those duties.

He spotted the voucher envelopes again on the way out. Kept in a place of honor, just off the main hallway. A shelf all to themselves, furled in a way where it was possible to spot multiple sending addresses at a glance. It had to be that way, because the house's custodian loved to look at them.

"It's everywhere they've been. It's everywhere I'm going to go. Because once I have my mark, something which says I'm tough enough to be with them again, that they don't have to worry about me... they'll have to take me along. As soon as they know I can deal with a little danger..."

Snowflake closed his eyes, waited until the moisture stopped falling onto what had been a spotless floor. And then, carrying saddlebags which were almost as heavy as his heart, he left the house to its final solitude.


"...an' there we go," Applejack decided, because the mirror's reflection had just shown her little sister's head pulling back again. "Thank y'kindly, AB."

Scootaloo, who'd never seen the process before, was staring from the far corner of the washroom.

"So that's how you get the loops on?"

Dryly, "Little awkward t' do it mahself. Ah can sort of whip everythin' to where Ah can reach it, but gatherin' is harder. Can't trim anythin' below a base length or Ah can't reach. An' then Ah've gotta tie the knot by mouth. Pullin' through a stable ready loop ain't much of an improvement. So it's easier with help." She shrugged, tracked the pegasus' reaction as she started to straighten up again: staying low also assisted Apple Bloom. "For that matter, how did y'think she gets the bow on every mornin'?"

"I thought she just slept in it."

"Ah do sometimes," the no-longer-youngest sibling reluctantly admitted. "Ain't a good idea t' do it too often, though. Hairs get all tangled, and then when it's gotta come out --" she winced "-- it ain't nice. Ready for your hat?"

Applejack checked her reflection.

Clean enough. Pretty sure Ah've got the right parts of mah fur highlighted. She seldom used makeup -- and 'seldom' meant she'd had to nose away some caked-together portions which had been sitting in the washroom since her ill-fated visit to the Gala. Mane's lookin' good. Tail's the tail. The snort was purely internal. Least Ah can be pretty sure he ain't into ones like 'Shy's. Her tail was exceptionally thick -- but for overall fullness and length, she was nowhere close to meeting that singular standard. Ain't quite sure how t' do a really first-class hip sway -- she could get some results, but she was aware her efforts weren't on a professional level -- an' most of the ponies Ah know are exactly the wrong ones t' ask. Could've talked t' Pink Lady at the last reunion. Gotta be some direct benefit t' havin' an escort in the family...

A smiling (and so very often, laughing) mare's face manifested upon the inner stage, and a shapely form pranced in place with private joy --

-- the memory of her cousin looked at Applejack, and silently waited.

Y'still gonna be there?
Who's gonna be around at'tall?

The Acres weren't hosting the next one, and all of the invitations would go out on the same day. She could already see herself waiting by the mailbox. Just... waiting.

"Yeah," she quietly told her sister. "Bring it here."

It was a hat which had been through a lot. Something which had come back when nothing else had and in a way, it was the truest link in the chain of generations. The thing which still bound Applejack to her father.

But it was also her hat, and so she put it on.


The table was set for six.

It wasn't particularly loud, as dinners went: not having Rainbow show up was part of that, and Applejack suspected the weather coordinator was mooching off somepony else that night. But it didn't seem to be all that quiet either. There was conversation, even if portions of it felt slightly awkward: some things couldn't be discussed with their new arrivals at the table, and the older of those was still having some trouble making contributions which weren't 'Yeah.'

But he'd come to eat with them, and done so a little earlier than was required for the meal itself. Time which had been required to bring Scootaloo's things up to what was currently a shared bedroom, get it all unpacked. A duration which had allowed her to see that he'd stopped at his own home before heading to the Acres, gotten washed up, done his best to groom -- and that 'best' indicated the brush cut of his mane mostly existed so that he never really had to figure out what else could be done with it. He was clean, but when it came to things like styling his tail, he had clearly given up after, at most, half an effort, and it was something which left an awkward half-curl along part of the tip. It was utterly, endearingly silly in appearance, and that was just part of why she kept looking at it -- at least during those moments when she was certain nopony would catch her doing so.

There were things to discuss, even if so many topics had to remain within the realm of the strictly mundane. Snowflake awkwardly mentioned having briefly thought about bringing his hare, because she needed feeding, tending, and time in which to become used to other ponies -- but having Genova racing about the house had seemed like a bad idea, plus there was Winona to consider. (She had carefully approached and sniffed his forelegs, while Applejack watched -- and then, having fulfilled the basic canine niceties while seeing that her mistress had no problems with the new arrival, immediately decided he was her friend and took up a watchful position at the base of his bench, just in case he turned out to be a little clumsier than the others about dropping food.) So he'd taken care of her, even spared a few minutes for the needs of play, and made sure she'd be okay for a while because -- his hooves had awkwardly scraped at the wood -- he didn't know how long this kind of dinner took...

What could they talk about? The small topics. Cider season was approaching, and that meant a certain need for spices: Granny had to check the stock on those. Scootaloo had offered to help with that, and Applejack had ticked off one entry on the newest phantom checklist: Work I Am Going To Get Out Of Her In The Hopes That Discipline Arises. You didn't live on the Acres without making some level of contribution, and so a degree of chore training would begin -- in a few days, after the pegasus had settled in somewhat. It was the same amount of time required for Applejack to figure out a total for Scootaloo's upcoming allowance.

Macintosh occasionally brought up the names of universities: the one he'd originally wanted to attend, plus a few which he'd never previously considered -- but with his sister having traveled so much over the last few years, had she happened to hear anything good about them? Ultimately, all she was able to tell him was that the Gifted School's post-graduate program was clearly right out, while Snowflake had eventually offered the surprising fact that at the time of his departure, there had been earth ponies and unicorns attending college in Las Pegasus -- two and one, respectively, and there was a certain degree of difficulty in staying on campus too far beyond class time: those who were the subject of frequent cloudwalking spells could find the results wearing off a little faster, and so there were wooden safety platforms scattered around campus. Just in case.

Granny was completely predictable: she had a fresh audience for her art, and so she wanted to know what he thought of her cooking, often asking the question before he had a chance to taste it. Apple Bloom mostly talked about school, and the work shifts she would be attending after normal classes wrapped up. The older sister had a harvest to consider, and the newest arrival mostly watched and listened. It was something new to him, this kind of gathering: the ebb and flow of words, plates being nosed around the table by a group of more than three. There were times when Applejack caught him staring at simple interaction like a colt attending his first cinema show, and others when she almost managed to intercept one of the rare glances he would risk towards her.

It was natural, having guests at the table. But one of them needed to be treated as a sibling, and... eventually, Miranda would be coming back with news of the warrants. It would hurt the filly, they knew it would, and they would have to make sure she had somepony there to support her when she... learned the truth about her parents. When the illusion finally shattered.

(It took time to find out what had become of them.)
(It was something they'd never meant to learn. Never wanted to encounter. Never dreamed could exist, because it was an idea impossible to conceive until the moment it presented itself as rewritten reality.)
(It nearly broke the world.)

And with the other...

He didn't speak all that much. But he listened. White ears rotated in all directions, with a freshly-polished gold hoop seldom finding enough time to vibrate into full stop before its owner shifted focus again. He frequently looked awkward, uncertain, with very little concept of how to interact, or whether he was allowed to do so at all. Most of what he said was directed at Scootaloo, or went to Granny in the form of yet another positive review from a critic who wasn't sure whether any negativity was permitted, even when it was clear that he had no previous experience with dumplings and so didn't know that a brief stay in the throat was natural.

It was his first time at the table, and so he didn't know to ask about the gap in the wood. (Her family kept the embarrassing fillyhood stories to a threat-arranged minimum of zero.) He sat and listened and it was... strange, just how natural that was.

But there had been many distractions during the day, things they weren't speaking about -- added to that which everypony had simply forgotten to check. And what nopony had truly remembered was that a day of heavy grey skies generally had but one Bureau-dictated conclusion.

Everypony glanced at the dining room windows, attention pulled in by the sudden harsh patter of liquid impacts.

"An' there y' go," Applejack sighed. "Did anypony look at the night schedule?" Five sets of features awkwardly displayed negation. "Me neither. Completely forgot the pegasi were gonna dump the moisture after Sun got lowered." She stared through the window, regarded the rapidly-worsening downpour. "'course that's what got put together: tomorrow's a market day --"

-- the good thing about the new gap in the wood was that it allowed the facehoof to take place without the slightest degree of foreleg shift.

"...tomorrow's a market day," Applejack repeated through wince and keratin. "Ah forgot. Got a market day, an' jus' 'bout nothing's been done..." She lowered the hoof, and did so just in time to see her brother's grin. "Wipe that. Ain't like none of you thought 'bout it, or got anythin' ready."

"We could maybe miss the one?" Apple Bloom hopefully asked as Snowflake's expression collapsed into crevices of self-blame.

"Not gonna happen," the oldest sister declared. "But Ah ain't gonna ask everypony t' go out in the dark and wet neither. It'll stop on time, especially since Rainbow don't manage the night shift. Ah'll get things ready in time t' go out once the dry comes in. Everypony else can get some rest. Ain't like it was gonna be too much t' begin with, not during transition." And just in case he'd been thinking of asking (even when he wasn't quite ready to do it), she looked at Snowflake. "Time between the end of the summer crops an' the heart of the autumn ones. Ain't got as much t' offer as usual. So it don't take long t' gather."

He managed a guilty nod. "Is..." And took a slow breath, which let her observe just how many muscles were shifted by the process. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not much, 'specially when y'don't know where t' gather or how t' sort yet." Admittedly, having him kick a trunk was --

The image flashed across her inner vision, and then took its time about leaving.

-- something which he's only gonna initially do under close supervision, with non-producing trees an' bark which can take some impact. Ain't like he's really gonna break one in half, but...

...maybe a small one.

...maybe.

"I should head home." He was already starting to get up. "Before this gets any worse. Thank you for --"

"-- stay." The red gaze was now looking directly at her, which was a pleasant change. "Y'don't need a drenching. Y'said your hare is good 'til mornin'? Y'can sleep on a couch. Head back after the rain stops." And she knew what was going to be said next at the moment his mouth began to open, that he could just head straight up and take a path above the clouds, make the soaking into a brief one... "Plus you've been pushin' too long as-is, an' Ah know bein' out cold don't count much towards real sleep. Y'need rest, soon, an' you're not supposed t' fly when you're tired. So you're stayin'."

After what felt like far too long, "...all right. But I'll have to leave early."

"Ah know." She looked at her Granny, and found the elder smiling back. "Also, y'don't want t' find out what happens if y'skip out on dessert."

"Tarts?" Scootaloo quickly asked, with the young voice carrying more than a hint of moan. "Tell me it's tarts..."

"Can't do that."

"So it's not tarts," the little pegasus sighed.

No, it is. Ah jus' don't feel like ruinin' the moment when y'see the tray come out. "Still gotta finish this course anyway. So. Nopony checked the south crop." That more than entitled her to a groan. "Tomorrow's gonna be a long day..."


They waited until everypony else was asleep. (It took a while. Granny had been moving too much for one day: her hip needed time to settle down, and the fillies wound up talking themselves out. Snowflake, however, fell asleep two minutes after settling onto the couch.) But eventually, the older siblings were resting together in her brother's bedroom, camped out on top of the sheets. Talking, in a way they'd never done before.

"Ah was afraid you'd be mad," Applejack admitted, about an hour in. "Ah didn't know how you'd take it, an' -- yours was the feelin' Ah was most scared of. The one which felt like it meant the most." She softly sighed. "'cause usually, y'worry 'bout bringin' somepony home t' meet your Daddy, an'..."

He quietly nodded. "That's how AB is going to feel bringing somepony home to meet you." Green eyes glanced down at the yoke, which was leaning against the side of the bed. "It won't be easy for her. Or for you."

"It'd be a lot easier if'fin Ah knew which pony she'd been lookin' at."

"Yeah," he borrowed. "But she's not ready to talk about that."

Which meant going back to the current subject. "Ah thought y'might be mad. But -- not that mad, Mac, nowhere near. That was mah worst-case times three. Why?"

Her dumb brother took a slow breath, and the big head went down.

"It was a bunch of things put together. The part of me that's had to be your parent... I felt like I'd failed. Like I hadn't raised you right, and -- that lost a lot a while ago, when you told me what Elstar said. But at the time -- I thought I'd let Mommy and Daddy down, that they would have done the better job and you never would have asked him out at all." Another, even slower breath. "I feel that way a lot. That I can't live up to them."

"Welcome t' the club," she said without irony.

"Founding members." His tail drooped. "So part of it was that. That I'd failed, and it meant losing that much more of them. And then there's the rest of the family. Plus I'd been waiting for a foal, an earth pony foal as the sign that I could leave. And..." Matching eyes briefly closed. "...some of it was jealousy. Because you'd gone for what you wanted, I couldn't, I never could, and... why should you have anything?"

She understood.
She hated understanding.
She loved him.

The softest of whispers, just barely audible at all. "What do you want, Mac?"

"Somepony who loves me. Somepony I can spend my life with," her brother quietly told her. "Same as just about everypony else." A little shrug, and he adjusted his position on the mattress. "To stop hating myself for what happened to Akane."

Sharply, "Y'didn't make her do it. Any more than Ah --"

"-- we did this part," he reminded her. "And emotions don't fade that fast."

"Ah'm still gonna try an' find out where those places are."

"I hope you can."

Silence for a while.

"Anythin' else y'want outta life?"

"Foals would be nice. There's always adoption --"

He blinked.

"-- I could ask Twilight."

Um... "'bout foals? Ah know she's got some pull with the palace, but she don't think t' use it. Anyway, y'shouldn't need that jus' t' adopt, not once your record's clear."

"About a spell." Decibels were subtly increasing. "If you know, then I can finally tell her. If she researches a stallion equivalent to the Most Special --"

"-- Mac?" Because there was something which had to be pointed out immediately.

"-- she just might be able to --"

"-- you're askin' Twi' t' put together a spell which, outside of the research, is probably gonna require watchin' ponies have sex. Stallions. Over an' over. For moons."

"...oh."

"It ain't," she solidly stated, "the way Ah want mah friend t' die. Pure embarrassment ain't exactly a good way t' go. Give her a little while before y'ask, an' you'd better have somepony when y'do. But if it don't work out... yeah. There's always foals who need homes."

"Like the one in Apple Bloom's bedroom," he eventually said.

Her lips quirked. "Probably wouldn't have been mah first pick. But you'll make your own family. One way or another."

He nodded. Both siblings looked at the old textbooks.

"How many do you think we lost?"

She knew he was talking about family, and so she held back her answer until she felt his ribs stop shaking. "Ah don't know. We sent our letters. Words of truth. But Elstar... he's gonna take this out on everypony but himself. Ah... think he'll convince a few, the ones who never thought Honesty meant much, or were lookin' for an excuse of their own. But that's the thing, Mac. The ones we lose -- some of 'em are the ones we might be better off without."

A little too dryly, "You think so?"

"Couldn't exactly say it if Ah didn't." And sighed. "There's two kinds of family. The family of your blood, that's the one you're usually stuck with. But there's a family of the heart. If you're lucky, they overlap. But the way Ah see it, with both kinds, y'still get a choice. Blood's a lot of things, Mac. But it ain't glue. Y'can always walk away: sometimes, y'have to. An' in the end... maybe heart should mean a little more. So anypony we lose wasn't worth keepin' t' start with. An' maybe we won't have that little side cluster of tables at the next reunion."

"We," he declared with mock solemnity, "may be the cluster. Assuming we're even invited."

"Yeah," she admitted. "Well, closer t' the food."

"AJ?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I didn't do such a bad job."

There was a nuzzle which was meant for family, and it was a warm one.

"You're still my dumb sister, though."

"An' you're still mah idiot brother." Which seemed to bring them to a very necessary topic "So. 'bout those ponies you 'had words with' when they wanted t' go out with me. Am Ah gonna get any names?"

Immediately, "Nope."

She fumed for a while.

"Anypony else in the family want stallions? An' before y'try t' be smart, Ah mean the males --"

"-- Braeburn."

Applejack blinked.

"Have you seen him?" Macintosh added. "Really watched the way he acts? I'm surprised you never figured it out."

"...Braeburn."

"It's easier for me, though. All I had to do was look at him."

"...Braeburn," she tried again. It didn't help.

"The instant you start wanting stallions? It's like you get a whole bunch of new senses. One look, and I can just tell if somepony else is interested. It's just another kind of magic. So yeah. Braeburn."

"...really?"

Her nowhere-close-to-being-the-Honesty-Bearer brother grinned.

"No." Which was immediately followed by "-- an' y'kicked me."

"An' y'deserved it. So not Braeburn?"

"No idea. Can't get him to shut up about Appleloosa long enough to talk about anything else. But now that I'm really thinking about it, probably Braeburn -- OW!"


He thought he'd woken up too early.

Moon was visible through the nearest window, and enough of the clouds had been cleared to give him a view of stars. (It never rained on a market day, by arrangement: there was no point to having one washed out.) But he'd awoken in the sitting room at his usual hour for such a day, something which was fine for him, but when it came to everypony else...

Was it possible to sneak out without waking anypony? Just trying to open the door might disturb Winona, plus any security spells which might be present clearly weren't attuned to him and even in the unlikely absence of magical defenses, he didn't have the key to reset any locks from the outside. But the rain had stopped, he had his own business to worry about plus a hare who would want an early feeding, and... he wasn't sure how much right he had to be in the house. Not after everything which had happened. Not when just having dinner with them had felt so

good

and things which felt that good didn't last. Not for somepony like him.

I can just check the front door. In theory, he could be a little late to his market space -- although with Ms. Colwood managing things, he might find somepony else occupying it: showing a degree of courtesy to long-time renters could be hoped for, but the opportunity to collect two fees on the same patch of land was expected. Just try to move quietly...

It was awkward, especially when he was shifting his bulk in the dark within a new location and didn't have the technique which allowed a few pegasi to locate objects through the resistance presented to air currents. But he managed to keep the damage down to a knocked-over picture, courteously straightened that up again, reached the front door --

-- which was open.

He looked at the small gap between door edge and frame, about a hoofwidth across. And then he saw the light shining from between the barn doors.

Carefully, he stepped outside onto chill soaked ground, under stars and watching Moon. Watched the little line of glow, saw a shadow pass across it as he carefully trotted up --

"-- Ah know you're out there," the mare called to him (and he didn't have a reason to wonder how she knew). "Y'can come in."

Without fully knowing why, his body acting before his mind could come up with a hundred reasons to do anything else, he carefully pushed the left-side door open.

She was moving quickly under the light from active devices, easily lifting full buckets of apples before allowing a combination of head angling and foreknee prod to tilt the contents into opened drawers. The market cart sat in the middle of it all, and the scent of fresh axle oil reached him at the same moment as the glint which came from newly-polished brass.

"Had t' get ready," she answered his unasked question. "Been up for a while t' -- set things up. Jus' 'bout t' head out. Ah was gonna wake you soon." She examined the next bucket, snorted, and nimble teeth picked out a less-than-worthy specimen before her head whipped hard to the right: the offending fruit bounced off a wall and went into a partially-filled trough. "That one's for the pigs. They mostly jus' want quantity. So you're goin' t' work now?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed at the same moment he saw her lips quirk. He wasn't sure which feature to believe.

"Details," the farmer ordered.

"I... have to check on Genova. And pick up my tent. Get breakfast, and work out --" which was when the realization kicked him. "-- I missed my workout yesterday." He didn't do that. Even when he was substituting for Fluttershy at the cottage, he found ways to improvise equipment...

She thought about that.

"Then we'd better get you some exercise," she decided. "Stay there." The last three buckets were quickly sorted out, and then her head began to move towards brass. "An' now come over here."

"I don't understand --"

Her teeth nipped at a few places, and something unfolded from the cart.

"Y'see this hitch?"

"...yeah." He saw it every market day, when she was packing up the cart. He... tried not to watch for too long --

"There's two of 'em. So get over here."


She closed the barn doors, locked down the house, and then returned to the cart.

"How's it feel? Gotta make adjustments before we get on the road."

He shifted his shoulders against the left-side pull. "It's okay."

The farmer's head tilted slightly to the right. (The hat failed to shift.) "Ah'm noticin' somethin' 'bout you. Y'don't like t' complain. Raises too much of a fuss an' draws attention." Which was when the right hoof stomped. "An' given the choice between polite silence an' lettin' me know what's really goin' on, guess what one Ah pick? How does it feel? Before y'get your fur an' skin abraded from a bad fit, 'cause Ah can still adjust this a bit more."

"...a little wider at the front."

She approached. Her right forehoof pushed, and he heard gears clicking against each other.

"Better?"

"Yea -- yes. Thank you."

It got him a shrug, followed by a slow survey. Her gaze went over the hitch, across his shoulders, shifted to his back...

Nopony looks at me for this long. Not like --

"It's a good fit," she quietly said. "Ah'm guessin' y'normally have trouble with this kind of thing, but... mah parents commissioned this cart, an' mah Daddy was pretty tall. Mac takes after him on build, so that's the side he uses." The orange body shifted, reoriented, backed up and ducked under curving padded metal bars. "Mine doesn't quite go low enough for AB, but... won't be much longer there, Ah think. Even Ah can see Scootaloo's wingspan comin' in, an' that means Apple Bloom's gonna be getting her growth." A quick twitch adjusted the position of her shoulders. "Move out slow t' start. It's gonna take a while t' get used t' each other's pace, an' Ah'm guessin' it ain't much fun t' take a cart t' the base of the tail."


And then they were pulling the cart. Walking together down the road (the first road), under Moon and what few stars could be seen through the branches which arched overhead. Moving side by side. They were so close to each other...

It was strange, how easily they'd matched gaits.

"So Ah jus' want t' clear somethin' up," the farmer voiced, shortly after they'd cleared the first turn. "We are goin' out, at least the once. Right?"

"I think," Snowflake honestly said, "your granddam would kill me if we didn't."

"Naw."

Surprised, "No?"

There was just enough moonlight to see the brief smile. "Killin' would be too quick."

He thought about that for a while, and eventually managed to stop.

"So where are we going?"

"On the date, y'mean."

He nodded.

"Not sure," she admitted. "This could almost be it, right? Goin' t' work together." Which was immediately followed by a soft snort. "Y'may not have heard 'bout the ponies Ah went out with before. Usually asked 'em out in winter, waited for spring t' get the date in, an' then -- we'd work on the Acres together. Y'can learn a lot 'bout a pony, workin' with 'em."

"...oh," was the best he could do.

Openly disgruntled, "For starters, Ah learned most of 'em couldn't make it t' lunch. An' had a skill for sneaking off when Ah wasn't lookin'. Might've taught each other 'bout how t' never look me in the eye again..."

The cart shifted a little, wheels skipping across small inconsistencies in the wet road.

"Everypony tells me Ah'm horrible at romance," she softly added. "By which Ah mostly mean Rarity. But Mac had a few words on the subject, an' so did some other ponies. Ah've -- been thinkin' that they kinda have a point." She glanced to the side. Looking at him again, this time with her eyes half-closed -- and the tone told him it was from embarrassment. "One pony who don't date, an' one who kept doin' it wrong. Ah'm pretty sure we're gonna need some advice. But --" another snort "-- look at who we've got t' ask, right? 'Shy's jus' gonna have us playin' with kittens, an' y'know what Ah've got? Rarity. Won't be able t' see each other for all the flowers we're supposed t' be carryin', an' after the exchange, won't be able t' move once we eat 'em --"

Before this goes any further. Before anything else happens --

"-- why?"

She didn't slow her pace, and it forced him to keep moving forward.

"Not a question 'bout flowers, is it?"

He shook his head, and Moon moved rough shadows across the trees.

"Same question other ponies were askin' me," she added. "Why you? Why ask you out? Even without everythin' that happened, even if nothin' happened at'tall... why you?"

It was the smallest of nods, and it took all the strength he'd ever had.

A few hoofsteps passed where it was just the two of them moving, as her ribs shifted with slow breaths.

"So let's clear up the obvious," the farmer said. "Y'ain't a looker --"

His head began to dip.

"-- an' Ah don't care."

That was when she laughed.

It was an oddly soft laugh, there on the old road. Something which caressed the trees, skimmed across wet soil while soaking into the ears, and there was no cruelty in it at all.

"Lookin' at you... you're a sight the first time, can't deny that. So y'look. But if y'keep lookin'... Mac an' Ah talked last night, after y'fell asleep. He said y'made him think of a bulldog. They ain't lookers neither. But they're strong, an' -- once y'know 'em, y'find out they're just 'bout the most gentle things in the world, right up until the second somethin' tries t' hurt whatever they love --"

She never broke stride, never slowed, and so he had to do the same. But she was looking directly at him. Not road or trees or Moon. Him.

"-- an' that is why it's you."

He'd never felt so weak. So confused, so desperate, so --

-- don't hope.

"Fluttershy trusts you," the mare softly reminded him. "More than anypony. Maybe if she talked t' the palace, she could have any vet from the capital takin' over during missions. But she wants you at the cottage, lookin' after everythin' she loves. Do you know how few ponies get her t' open up, even a little? There's times when the six of us still have trouble. But when it's you... she'll talk a bit more. She loves you, an' that's not jus' the hybrid thing. 'Shy don't exactly love casually. An' you... how hard is it, all that studyin'? She may not have a vet's mark, but she can ask where it hurts. You've got no affinity at all, an' y'do everythin' you can t' learn, 'cause y'care. That's it, ain't it? Y'care."

Don't believe.

"Ah'll admit," she added (and she was still looking at him, still), "Ah don't exactly hate strength. An' Ah like hard workers. Ah know y'qualify on both. But it's how y'use it -- or in your case, how y'don't. No pushin', no charges t' put your weight against the world. You're not a bully. Y'know the most important thing 'bout being strong is not havin' t' remind everypony all the time. Y'have the strength t' -- hold back until y'really need it. An' when y'do use it, it's for somepony else." Staring directly into his eyes now, as if there was something in her capable of seeing beyond them. "D'you know how rare that is?"

Hope hurts --

"Ah see your face, here an' now," that steady voice continued. "Ah see denial. An' Ah also see the only pony who ever got Scootaloo t' slow down a little. Somepony who's always there if anypony needs help, but he's gotta be right there when it happens 'cause he's afraid t' jus' approach an' ask. Afraid of bein' turned down, 'cause he knows he's different an' he thinks that's all anypony ever sees. An' that is what they see, if they look once. Ah've had a couple of years now. Years with 'Shy tellin' me 'bout you, years of jus' -- watchin'. Ah don't care 'bout your looks, 'cause Ah know what's at the core."

She slowly shook her head, and looked up through branches and leaves. Giving her attention to Moon, as the accent dropped away.

"Good looks, that's short-term most of the time," she quietly said. "You want the reason why I asked you out, Snowflake? Because good character is forever. That's what I wanted to take a chance on. The pony inside the skin. And even so..." She was trotting a little faster now, forcing him to increase his pace. "...I don't know if I love you. I'm attracted. But you can't just put any two ponies together and expect love. I don't know if there's such a thing as love at first sight, not really." A soft laugh. "Attraction, sure. Arousal --" (and he felt the blush beginning to rise) "-- yeah. But with love -- maybe Cadance would know, but I think love takes time. And I just thought... if we dated, if we had the chance to actually talk... we'd find out. So after everything happened, after I started feeling like I wasn't carrying fifty generations on my back -- I asked you out on a date. And you said yes, didn't you?"

Her lips quirked again.

"Well... close enough to 'yes'," she decided. "And if it does work, if this goes as far as it could... there's one more fear, isn't there? So I'm going to stop that one now, before it ever gets a chance to be an excuse. Fluttershy told me about you. I did some research. It took a while, and I never quite told myself the real reason I was looking, not for a long time -- but the medical books in the Archives are still on the library exchange program. For every capless birth, both parents were pegasi. What happened to you, if we do wind up together -- it won't happen to your children. It can't."

(and deep within his soul, a wall he'd never been aware of fell into dust)

"So I still think there's something in you which wants to go out with me. To find out what happens next. To see if we could love each other. So tell me something, Snowflake." Green eyes met red. "Was Ah lyin'? 'bout what Ah wanted, an' why?"

I
she
...I...

"...no."

Softly, so very softly, her voice barely ruffling his fur, "So in that case -- why did y'say yes?"

She gave him a minute to assemble an answer, as they moved down the old road while the shadows began to fade, with Sun now on the approach. Rain-driven leaves squelched under their hooves, and little bits of mud coated the sides.

"You're fierce," he quietly said. "You have this fire... I can see it in your eyes sometimes. Not just when you're angry: I've seen that happen a few times in the market --"

"-- like the day the colors all went bad," she nodded. "When y'stepped in for me."

"It's -- dedication," he went on as the deepening mud began to splash up towards his ankles and hocks. "Committing yourself to being exactly who you are, and staying the course. It's... something to see..."

"Would've been a good time t' say somethin' nice 'bout mah looks."

He blinked. Stared at her, and so saw the smile.

"Ah appreciate what y'said 'bout me. Especially after what Mac said last night."

"What did he --"

"Some college horse apple smear 'bout antithesis. That when somepony breaks from tradition, they can feel like the only way t' justify it is by becomin' the opposite of what they were before. But Ah'm still me. Ah'm just me with more experience. An' it sounds like you see that too."

'Yeah' seemed inadequate.

"And jus' 'cause Ah don't care 'bout your looks," the farmer said, "doesn't mean Ah'm sayin' Ah don't want t' be told Ah'm pretty. So?"

"...I don't know a lot about dating."

"No kiddin'."

"I'm still pretty sure this is the part which usually gets stallions kicked."

"An' some mares," she admitted. "But y'got permission. Go."

And with his mind spinning and pieces of shattered disbelief flying in all directions, he searched for words which wouldn't get him killed.

"Sometimes your fur makes me think of sunrise," he told her. "The bands of color you get before it all goes blue. That first second when you start to feel warm. And..." the blush wasn't exactly going away, Sun was approaching and white fur meant she wasn't going to overlook it "...I don't exactly mind strength. Your legs are exceptional --"

Pleased, "Are they now?"

Which was the point where flailing instincts made the mistake of going with "-- especially without professional supervision on the vastus."

And then he was waiting (and hoping) to die.

"Ah," she generously said, "am gonna overlook that. Right up until Ah find out what y'meant."

"...they're the muscles which flex the hind legs. They go from the stifle to the hip."

"Oh," she considered. "Still gonna overlook it. Anythin' else?"

Red eyes briefly closed.

"I was always afraid of being caught looking at your face," he softly admitted. "I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop, and if you caught me, you'd -- be disgusted. That I was looking at all. That it was me looking."

"Y'got permission t' look, too."

And then they were looking at each other, as Moon dipped --

-- at the same moment his left foreleg went into unseen mud up to the ankle and the cart lurched to a stop, coming just short of ramming the base of their tails.

"Sorry! I'm --"

But she merely sighed, and looked down.

"Typical, right?" The shrug shifted her hitch. "Sometimes this happens when the Bureau gives us a pour. This part didn't drain proper. Ah mean, look at that, willya? That's gotta be eight body lengths across an' as wide as the road. An' if we pull the cart through here, we're gonna get dirty, the splashes are gonna get the cart dirty, plus there's no way t' get around it with the trees so tight on both sides. Have t' lose at least twenty minutes t' finding a side path. Neither of us can give up that much time."

He sighed. "Well, there's no help for it. Maybe if you ask Ms. Colwood to hold my spot --"

She looked up. Her ears rotated, as the only outer sign of what was happening within. And then she smiled.

"-- so let me jus' drain that for you..."

The world changed.

The mud dropped, sinking down into the layers. Fresh earth moved up along the sides, flowed forward to cover the deepening gap, and he couldn't stop staring as the memories flowed back and there had been a smile, he remembered the smile and that before the smile

there had been a song.

"Gotta smooth out the top a mite," she said as new stones arranged themselves, offering firm support for frozen hooves. The dry soil began to vibrate --

-- oh...

"Can y'hear me?" she softly asked. "D'you --"

"...it's... like an oboe... how --"

"-- you're family," the mare told him as the layers finished switching places. (It had been a quick process, especially since she'd gotten up early enough to set up the patch in the first place.) "No matter what happens with the dates, you're family." Which was followed by a rather rough giggle. "The part Ah ain't up t' explainin' at the next reunion, but family. An' y'need trainin'. Talked t' Granny while y'were getting Scootaloo's things, about a bunch of stuff. Mac included. An' -- after the shock went away, which took some time -- she said she's gonna try really hard t' keep goin' for a while. She don't want t' die jus' when things are gettin' interesting. So she'll teach you how t' control the shaking, an' we'll find out if there's anythin' else y'can do. You up for that?"

The earth had finished moving. The bedrock of his worldview was still crumbling, and his knees were threatening to go with it. "Can every earth pony do that, or did it come from the Elements? Can --"

"-- Ah'll tell you more," she offered. "But it stops when we hit town. No talkin' 'bout it in front of anypony but me an' the Bearers, not for a good while. But Ah trust you t' do that. You're -- good at keeping secrets. Can y'keep this one?"

He'd been wrong about the earlier nod. This movement took every bit of strength he'd ever had, then took out a loan against the next two years and started charging interest.

"Good. So Ah'll give you a minute, 'cause y'need one. An' then we're back on the road."


There was a space which only existed between seconds, and it was filled with the recognition of possibility.

"She'll train me?"

"She's good --" and her head dipped again. "On the good days. There's bad ones too."

"Can I return the favor? I saw her having trouble with that hip. There's some basic exercises --"

Sun brightened the blonde mane as its owner immediately looked up at him. "How much could it do?"

"Some pain relief. More mobility, and for longer periods. It's not a cure, but -- it'll help."

"Y'have t' ask her. But Ah think she'll say yes."

Warm orange began to suffuse the sky, adding hues to soft white clouds.

"So we're dating."

"Seems like."

Not without dry humor, "When neither of us is any good at it."

"Pretty much." She shrugged again, and her hitch shifted accordingly. "An' there's more we're probably both bad at. Lack of experience. So maybe we should start workin' on part of that right now?"

Ponyville was starting to come into view. Just a few more hoofsteps...

"Which part?"

"Stop trottin'."

He did, and so did she.

"So --"

"-- an' stop talkin'."

There was a nuzzle which was meant for family.
This wasn't it.

Applejack held the position for a while, pressed her muzzle into warm white fur, rubbing gently against his snout. Snowflake took a single shuddering breath, and then a gentle touch nuzzled back.

For the land always touched the sky.
And it would have been the best day of his life, if not for all the days to come.