//------------------------------// // Pilot: The Shed in the Woods // Story: Timberjack: Season 1 - Heart of Oak // by True Edge //------------------------------// It was cold. Colder than she thought it ought to be. Wasn't it nearly summer? It was cold, but she was warm. Frost hung on the boughs of the trees above, silhouetted against the gray of the night sky, the moon hanging full and round above, the shape of a unicorn's head, some said an alicorn's, seeming to glare down upon the earth below. Anger ever seemed to radiate from it, for some reason. Or maybe that was just in her mind. Sticks snapped beneath paws, a distant feeling to her, as though sensed more than felt, even as her mind wandered. Was it a night like this? Was it a night with the moon so full and angry and the branches all covered in rime? Perhaps it was . . . . A voice called, somewhere in the distance, calling a name she knew. Her own, she thought. Paws turned, following the sound of the voice, and she felt a sense of dread beginning to overtake her, flickers of memory, snatches of conversation. The taste of blood in her mouth, like copper acid, burning her tongue. She began to scream and cry and beg, but she could not hear her own voice, only whimpers and growls, and she felt her desperation turning to anger, as she raged against this, against seeing this, against allowing it to happen again. It could never happen again. Not ever. She wouldn't let it. And yet, she was powerless, as she saw a figure ahead of her, colors warped and distorted, as it turned, looking towards her. The last thing she saw was a soft, curly blonde mane, and a pair of emerald eyes, so very familiar, widening in horror. A scream echoed through the woods, overtaking the sound of snarls and whines of the beast, as it leaped. . . The shed had seen better days, but then, so had the field it was in. The old South Orchard had been abandoned a decade ago, to act as a buffer against the forest that wrapped around the farm to the south and west. It was meant both as a windbreak, protecting the fresher crops from the violent, wild storms that would blow up out of the Everfree Forest, unchecked by Pegasi magic, and as a shield against some of the more . . . aggresive flora and fauna of the Forest. As such, while the old growth trees still showed signs of the neat, even spacing and tender love and care that marked the rest of the farm, they had also grown up quite noticeably, with weeds and brush, as well as wild seedlings popping up here and there throughout the once well kept paths. Cobwebs hung here and there, along with a hornet's nest, the angry insects buzzing about the tree closest to the old tool shed. The shed itself was worn, its only window broken, and several boards missing here and there. The old woodshed behind it lay sprawled over a pile of mostly rotten logs, one of its posts broken and sticking up at an angle into the air. However, many passing by might have noticed that, while the shed itself looked worn and abandoned, the door into the shed was much better kept, looking to have been replaced, recently, and the hinges were well oiled. The silence and peace of the old Orchard was shattered by a scream, a sound of terror and rage and despair that would have sent a chill up the spine of the most hardened of soldiers. It carried up, from somewhere inside the shed, the sound muffled and distorted, but still audible, to those close enough to the small building. Birds scattered, crying out angrily at the sudden start, flying away into the late spring air. The large red stallion who was making his slow way out to the shed only paused, looking up in the early morning light. He sighed, blowing a lock of ginger mane out of his green eyes, before frowning and continuing on to the shed. Inside, the shed looked as abandoned as it did outside, with cobwebs in the corner, and a hole dug under one wall by some enterprising critter or other. However, there was also a heavy trapdoor in one corner, made from iron banded oak, nearly four inches thick. The stallion walked over, pushing the four bolts, made from heavy steel, out of their slots, unlocking the door. He took the rope handle in his mouth and lifted, neck bulging slightly as he pulled the door open and looked down the narrow staircase which made its way into the darkness beneath the shed. He lit a lantern that hung nearby and, with a casual toss of his head, caught it on his back, between his withers, and began making his steady, cautious way down into the basement. It used to be a root cellar, once upon a time. However, very little could be found now to remind one of this room's humble origins. It had been expanded a bit, and a wall of the same heavy, iron banded oak as the trapdoor had been set up to stop anypony from entering the room past the first few feet out of the stairwell. Into the wall was a door, of similar make, with a small window set in the upper half, just at eye level with the stallion. He walked up, cautiously, though he calmed some, hearing the sound of soft sobbing coming from inside. He stood still, waiting until the sounds had died down to a low murmur, before lifting his hoof and knocking softly on the door. "Applejack?" He asked, deep voice rumbling in the still air of the cellar/prison. After a moment, a voice, husky, deep and sounding like it was in dire need of a drink, responded. "Mac. I'm awake. 's'okay." Nodding with a sigh, he unlocked the door and opened it outwards. The interior was the most changed from what it had once been. Every wall and even the floor had been covered over in thick iron plating, the floor covered over by a light coat of sand. A large bowl sat in one corner, tipped over, the sand still showing signs of being damp from the water that had spilled out. Next to it was another bowl, stained red from its former contents. The plating on the walls here and there showed signs of having been attacked, long vicious marks that gouged into the metal and dug at it, each evenly spaced apart, just the right size for the claws of some great beast. The inside of the door showed the most damage, as though whatever had struck it recognized that it was a weak point. He'd have to work on it some, once the harvest was done. Big Macintosh sighed, finally turning his eyes to the room's soul occupant. The orange mare sat in the middle of the room, fur mussed and filthy, as though she'd been rolling in something she shouldn't, mane and tail tangled and in a similar state. Her emerald eyes were tired, heavy bags under them, and showed the signs of her heavy crying. The fur of her face and forelegs was stained a dark, rusty red, the color turning brown in places where it had dried already, and beginning to flake off. Once, she used to spend these sorts of mornings retching into a bucket for a while, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. Now, though . . . She seemed to've just accepted it. Mac wasn't sure how he felt about that. "AJ." He said, softly, and she glanced over at him, throat working as she tried to swallow. He glanced over again, before taking a breath. "Ya spilled yer water." "Ain't mine." She growled, jaw working as she ground her teeth, and he nodded. "Right. Sorry." He said, softly, before sighing. "Are ya . . . " He drifted off, unsure of what to say. She sighed roughly, nodding. "Yeah. It's . . . It's gone, for now." She slowly stood up, grunting slightly as she did. She looked up at him, then down at the door and flinched. "Gonna need to fix that, soon." She said, mouth working as though to say something else, before shaking her head. She moved to the door and he stepped aside, letting her out first. He followed her up the stairs and into the shed itself, where she did not hesitate in heading out into the morning sunlight. He watched as she took a deep breath, letting it out shakily, before turning and heading for the rusty old water pump that sat nearby. She cranked the handle, getting the water flowing, and ducked her head under it, gasping lightly at the cold well water as it washed through her mane. She stepped back, shaking her head, and getting it out of her eyes, before setting to work trying to scrub the old, dried blood off her face and forehooves. Mac stood nearby, having turned the lantern off and left it inside the shed, after checking that it still had an ample supply of fuel. He ground his teeth, wanting to speak, but unsure how to begin. Her ear flicked, and she frowned, not looking at him. "I c'n hear your teeth workin', Big Mac. Spit it out." She said, voice low as she ducked her head and took a long drink of the water from the spigot. ". . . . Can't keep on, like this, Applejack." He said, softly, and her ear twitched again. She turned a gimlet eye on him, chest moving up and down as her breathing quickened. "Ain't gotta last much more, Mac. Y'all know that. Summer Sun Celebration's a week off, an' the damn thing always settles down, after that." She said, as he passed her a towel from the bundle on his back. "Eeyup." He said as she dried off, before continuing. "But what if this time, it don't?" She stopped in her motions, before finishing quickly and lowering the towel, glaring at him. "What d'ya mean?" "Applejack . . . You know how things work . . . . You an' I, we built enough sheds and barns to know, that without proper care, things break." He said, and watched as his sister narrowed her eyes at him. "Gimme my hat." She said, holding out a hoof. He took a breath, frowning, even as he reached into the bundle and pulled out Tallulah, the old Stetson that had once belonged to their father, before he passed it on to AJ. "Applejack, I-" "I don't wanna hear it, none, Big Mac! It'll be fine! Ain't got no other choice!" The big stallion set his jaw, stiffening up and nodded. "Eeyup." As she put her hat on her head and turned away, he spoke up again. "Sooner or later, Applejack, somethin's gonna break, if we don't find some other way o' dealin' with it. And way it's goin' right now, that thing is either gonna be you, or that door." She stopped, turning and looking at him with a hard eye. "Then it'll be me, Mac." She said, eye twitching as her breath caught. "I ain't gonna let that . . . monster hurt no more o' my family!" She said, before turning with a shake of her head. "I gotta go make sure Apple Bloom fed the pigs. You comin'?" She asked, not waiting for an answer. Mac wanted to say more. To argue more, but it wasn't his way. He'd already spoke more than he normally did. Instead he took a deep breath, watching his stubborn, fool of a sister as she walked away, and silently prayed, to anything that might be listening, to send some help. But ya already are, Applejack. He thought, nodding his head sadly before plodding along behind her. The old stool wobbled on the warped, applewood planks of the farmhouse kitchen. Apple Bloom shifted her weight, amber eyes going a bit wide as she braced against the countertop, until she had regained her balance. Sighing, the yellow furred, red maned filly went back to work, washing the dishes from breakfast. "Is ya excited, Apple Bloom?" A creaky, aged voice called from nearby, still energetic, in spite of the many years it boasted, and she looked over her shoulder, frowning at the pale green, grey haired figure of Granny Smith. "Whatcha mean, Granny?" Bloom asked, forehooves still working to scrub some stubborn syrup off of the plate she'd eaten her pancakes off of. "Fer the Celebration, o' course!" Granny said, and Bloom frowned. "This is feelin' a might expository." She grumbled, and Granny quirked an ear. "Eh? See, now, tha's what we send ya ta school fer, young'n! Dem big words like that! Anyways, as I was sayin'. . . " Granny proceeded to go on about how this was the first time the Summer Sun Celebration had been held in Ponyville since before Bloom's Pa was born. This had the effect of causing Apple Bloom to drift a bit, mind wandering off into her own thoughts. She didn't really remember her parents much, except for a few hazy images of a smiling face. She hadn't been but a few months old before . . . it happened. Now, she was ten, and she'd grown up pretty good, she figured, with AJ and Big Mac and Granny workin' to raise her, once her big sister had got back from her trip to Manehattan, that was. She was a little sore about the fact she still didn't have a Cutie Mark, and that this tended to make her a bit of a target in school, given her age. That wasn't her family's fault, though. Still, she often found herself wondering what it would have been like . . . How she might've turned out, if they had . . . still been around. A glimpse of motion outside, through the window over the sink, drew Apple Bloom's attention, and she looked up to see her big sis, looking a bit weary, coming around the corner of the barn, BIg Mac following along behind her. To most ponies, the big stallion wouldn't have looked much different than he normally did, but to Bloom, he showed all the signs of being upset, and having had some sort of spat with AJ. Though, what about, she wasn't sure. He'd seemed okay when he left earlier, to go meet up with Applejack in the South Orchard. "Granny?" Bloom asked, interrupting some long winded tale or other that the old mare was telling. Blinking, Granny Smith glared at the filly. "Now, Apple Bloom! Y'all was raised better'n that! Ya shouldn't be interruptin' yer elders when they's talkin'!" Bloom lowered her ears, nodding. "Sorry, Granny! I just . . . Why's she do it?" "Eh?" Granny asked, frowning in confusion. "Applejack." Bloom said, looking back out the window. "Why's she go out to the ol' orchard so often?" She asked, watching her sister head into the barn, probably to check on something. As such, she missed the flinch that crossed Granny's face, before the old mare schooled her expression. "Er, well . . . " Granny began, Bloom continuing without really noticing. "I mean, there ain't hardly nothin' there! Just some ol' trees, rotten apples and, ugh, spider webs." The filly shuddered, having had a bad experience once, when she was younger. She'd ran out to an old tool shed in the South Orchard, opened the door and come face to million beady eyes with a nest of star spiders. The things had literally been covering the inside of the door and the wall around it, crawling over and around each other, all spindly, hairy legs and dark eyes, the shining stars on their backs glowing faintly in the dark of the inside of the shed. Since then, the filly hadn't liked either spiders OR the old orchard. "Well, Apple Bloom, y'all gots to remember, the old orchard also butts up along the Everfree. Yer sister just has to go out to check an' make sure ain't nothin' come onto the farm that don't belong!" Granny said, nodding her head and smiling at the filly, who looked back at her and frowned. "Ya mean like . . . Timber wolfs?" She asked, breathing a little quicker. Granny walked over, patting the filly on the withers with one hoof. "An' . . . other things. Now, don't you worry, Apple Bloom. Yer sister ain't gonna let nothin' hurt ya. I promise." The old mare said, smiling at the filly with a worried frown. Apple Bloom nodded, looking back out the window, before turning back to the dishes in front of her. She knew Applejack wouldn't let anything hurt her. She was the best big sister ever, afterall, and was stronger than a lot of stallions her age. Still . . . What if some of them spiders got inside the house? The thought made the filly squirm, which sent the stool wobbling again, and Bloom gave a yelp as it fell over, soap suds and water splashing her as the bowl she'd been cleaning flipped up into the air, did a half corkscrew and a backflip and landed on her head. This was the scene that greeted Applejack as she opened the back door, and the orange mare stopped, quirking an eyebrow, even as she smiled, watching the filly grumble as Granny Smith cackled. "Y'alright there, Bloom?" Applejack asked, shaking her head at the accident prone filly. "Dandy." The filly replied, taking the bowl off of her head and glaring at Granny, who waved her off, still smiling. "Oh, I knew ya was fine, Apple Bloom!" Granny assured her. "Ain't nothin' ya ain't had happen afore, and yer sister took some licks way worse'n that, when she was younger'n you!" The old mare said, before her smile faltered and she cleared her throat, Applejack glaring at her. "Like what?" Apple Bloom asked, looking up at her sister, who sighed and looked back at her. "Nothing, Apple Bloom. Just . . . just a foal being dumb, is all." She said, grimacing. "Now, did y'all feed the pigs?" Apple Bloom frowned, thinning her mouth at the obvious change of subject, but nodded anyway. "Well, yes! Honestly, Applejack, I'm ten, now! I'm practically an adult!" Applejack snorted, stamping a hoof on the floor. "Hardly, Apple Bloom. Still, y'all know how its done, so I'm gonna trust ya did it right. Course, if'n I find out ya didn't you'll be muckin' out their stalls, later." The farm mare said, glaring at her younger sister, who gulped. "Uhhh . . . I just remembered . . . I need ta do . . . Somethin'." She said, before shooting off out the back door like a rocket, leaving Applejack to chuckle, shaking her head, before walking over and grabbing a mop to clean up the floor in front of the sink. Granny snorted, shaking her head as she trotted over to the table, picking up another plate from the top in her mouth, sitting it on her back and making her way over to the sink. "That filly's got a hyper streak a mile wide." She said, shaking her head, and AJ snorted as well. "Y'all c'n say that again." She said, finishing cleaning up the floor and putting the mop away, coming over to help Granny with the dishes. The two stood side by side, Granny washing while Applejack rinsed and put away. Granny took a breath, frowning out the window. "Where'd Mac git off ta?" Applejack sighed, shaking her head, not looking at Granny as she put the plate away. "Went to get some tools. The, uh . . . " She stopped, gritting her teeth slightly and frowning. "The shed needed some . . . work." She finally finished, and Granny took a breath and let it out. "Uh-huh. You should go an' take a proper bath, Applejack." She said, nodding her head. "Only so much that nasty ol' well water c'n do . . . an' you smell like a wet dog!" The orange mare turned around, shooting her grandmother a glare. "I do not!" She said, and Granny snorted. "Oh, please! Spill yer water again?" She said, looking at Applejack, who bridled. "It ain't-" "Yeh, yeh, I heard it afore! Don' matter too much whatcha call it, Applejack . . . You still smell like a wet dog, and yer still takin' a bath afore I lets ya do anythin' else today!" Applejack frowned, jaw working as she grit her teeth, turning away. "I almost prefer Big Mac!" She muttered, and Granny flicked her side with her tail as she passed. "I may be old, but I ain't deaf! Not chet, at least! An' y'all should listen to yer brother! He got a better head on 'is shoulders than either o' us, that's fer sure." The old mare said, meeting Applejack's eye as her granddaughter glared at her again. "We've had this argument before, Granny! There ain't nothin' else to be done!" "We ain't even bothered lookin'. I'm too old, an' anytime Mac brings it up, ya dern near bite 'is head off! Figure o' speech." She said, adding the last quickly as Applejack stiffened up. "Alls I'm sayin' is, ain't no harm in lookin' for some . . . other ways to go abouts this." "Ain't no other way." Applejack said, jaw set and eyes hard. "Ain't gonna risk it. Not with y'all here, not with Apple Bloom." She said, shaking her head, before turning and stomping off to go upstairs and bathe. Granny just sighed and shook her head, turning to head out to the porch and her favorite rocking chair. Only one more week until the Summer Sun Celebration came to town, and she'd be damned if she let her daughter's sour mood ruin it for her. Not that Applejack's mood wasn't earned, but at the same time she could at least try! Granny remembered how it was in the old days, before . . . She stopped herself, sighing. A pony didn't live as long as she had without feeling a fair share of heartache, but she'd had her share and then somepony else's too. Nopony should outlive their own children, and that was a fact. Later that evening Applejack sighed as she sat down at the dinner table, looking over the fine spread Granny had thrown together for them. Mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, a fresh baked loaf of whole grain bread and a small wheel of cheese, along with haycakes and hashbrowns. And, of course, topping it off was a steaming hot apple pie, made using an old Apple family recipe. Applejack had loaded her plate up, while listening to her little sister go on about her day at school, and she now sat there, looking at it. She was hungry, and she knew she was. She hadn't eaten much at lunch, and it had been a long day bucking trees and hauling baskets full of apples to the barn. She was starving, but the food barely interested her. She could taste something else in her mouth, something she didn't want to think about. She distracted herself by tuning in more to what Apple Bloom was saying. ". . . she said I couldn't be that bright, or I'da got my Cutie Mark already!" The filly snapped, clearly upset, even as she dug into the plate of food in front of her. "Who said this?" Applejack asked, frowning, and earning a small glare from her brother, which was quickly hushed by her hoof against his pastern under the table. He barely even flinched. "Diamond Tiara." Apple Bloom grumbled, turning to look at Applejack, and the older mare took a breath. "Filthy's daughter?" She asked, frowning as Apple Bloom nodded. "She's always so awful t' me! She ain't got her Cutie Mark yet, neither, but she thinks it'll happen any day now. I hope she never gets it!" "Apple Bloom!" Granny Smith snapped. "Now, wishin' ill on somepony's bad enough, even if they are a stuck up li'l bully, but that is takin' it too far. Not a pretty thing, to wish somepony never finds their purpose!" Bloom snorted, shaking her head. "Best I c'n tell, Diamond's purpose is bein' a pain my aaaa. . . . flank." She said, catching the glare all three of her family members were throwing her way. Applejack took a bite of her food, chewing slowly as she thought. Ponderance about Apple Bloom's apparently expanded vocabulary aside, if her little sister was being bullied, something ought to be done about that. Diamond Tiara. . . . Why'd it have to be her? Filthy Rich and her family went back a long way. In fact, if it hadn't been for the Apples, Filthy's store, Barnyard Bargains, might have never gotten off the ground when he started out. That wasn't long before she was born, if she recalled right, about twenty years ago, give or take. "Hmm." She grumbled, swallowing and washing it down with some fresh, clean apple cider. "I'll go have a word with Filthy, tomorrow. Maybe he c'n-" "No, Applejack!" Apple Bloom complained, looking up at her sister with the biggest, wettest set of puppy dog eyes the world had ever seen. "If y'all do that, he'll talk to her, and then she'll make my life miserable fer the next week!" Applejack frowned. "Well, I can't just let it go, Apple Bloom. Besides, maybe he c'n rein 'er in." She said, nodding. "Uggghhh." Apple Bloom groaned, leaning forward as though to faceplant in her mashed potatoes, but a warning growl from Granny Smith about wasting food stopped her, and instead she took a big bite of them. "Shkool shucks!" She said, mouth full, and Applejack fought the urge to cuff her in the back of the head. Thankfully, she swallowed before continuing. "Why I gotta go, anyway? Applejack didn't go!" "An' I regret that!" Applejack snapped. "Only so much schoolin' at home can do." "I can learn all the same stuff here as I can there!" "'Cept how to get along with others. Sure, you can talk t' us, but ya need to learn how to deal with everypony else, too." Applejack said, pointing a hoof at Apple Bloom, who grumbled and crossed her forelegs, not looking at her sister. "If it makes ya feel better, remember that you got two weeks off after the Summer Sun Celebration." Apple Bloom blinked, looking up at AJ, and a smile broke across her face. "That's right!" She said, before a frown crossed her face. "Though . . . I dunno what I'll do durin' it." Applejack snorted, grinning. "Well, I guess ya c'n help on the farm. Ain't you got no friends at school?" She asked, frowning, and Apple Bloom glumly poked her fork at her plate, shaking her head. "Not really . . . I mean, there's Twist, but . . . she's about it. Still, I guess I c'n ask her what she's doing fer her break!" She said, cheering back up again just as quickly as she had gone down. Filly's got some kinda roller coaster goin' on her brain, I swear. Applejack pondered, not for the first time. Still, she smiled. "There ya go! A couple good friends, that's all ya need. Now, see, ya wouldn't know Twist, if'n ya didn't go to school!" She said, nodding, and Bloom rolled her eyes. "I guess yer right, sis." She said, sighing, before turning back to her nearly empty plate. Dinner was finished, and desert served, but again, Applejack couldn't really do much but pick at her plate and occasionally take a small bite. Granny and Big Mac both watched her, frowning occasionally. It was such that even Apple Bloom noticed. "Y'alright, sis? You've barely touched yer food all night." She asked, frowning at Applejack, who just smiled tightly. "I'm fine, Bloom. Just . . . A bit tired, is all." She said, which was . . . technically the truth. Still, it made her frown, looking down at the mostly intact slice of pie. "Sorry, everypony, I just . . . I guess I ain't much myself, today. I'm gonna go wash up. Bloom, help Granny with the dishes and get ready fer bed. Let me know when you're ready, I'll come tuck ya in." "I ain't a baby, sis!" Bloom said, and Applejack just rolled her eyes. "I know, I know." She said, smiling softly, before getting up from the table and heading out. She walked through the foyer, hooves tapping on the old, stained applewood planks that most of the farmhouse was built from. She turned left and headed up the staircase, passing pictures of Apples, past and present. She paused, as she often did, in front of one particular image, turning and looking at it slowly, feeling her throat tighten up. The air was cold, and the sounds of screaming echoed, mixing with the sick feeling in her stomach, as- She pulled herself away, turning and looking at the stairs going up, breath coming fast and hard as she fought to keep from hyperventilating. She moved upstairs a little uneasily, making a beeline for her room, stepping inside and shutting her door behind her. It was a simple room, with a decent sized bed set to the right, just inside the door, a window on the other side of the bed, while an old steamer truck lay at its foot and across from that was a small dresser with a mirror, and an old mahogony wardrobe stood to the left. Applejack shut the door behind her, rear hoof kicking the latch to lock the door, as she fought to control her breathing. Images, sounds and smells continued to flicker through her mind as she stumbled over and fell against the dresser. The ground was hard, frozen over, beneath her hooves . . . no, her paws. Paws that had sharp claws, which dug into the earth and helped her keep her traction as she ran, following scents here and there, this way and that, before a sound drew her attention away. It was the sound of a voice, half-familiar, calling out, saying something, a word that part of her recognized. 'Applejack!' The voice called, and without thinking, paws turned on the hard packed, frozen dirt, while snow fell gently through the wild branches of the trees up above, making for the source of the sound- She pulled herself out of the half formed memory with a gasp, which broke off into a sob as she leaned on the dresser, trembling. She felt cold, down to her soul, while her stomach felt empty. She looked up, and froze, flinching at the image in the mirror. Her emerald eyes had altered, the green irises taking up much more of the orb, leaving only the tiniest hint of white sclera around the edges, while her pupils had narrowed to pinpricks in the light of the single lantern that was burning overhead, which seemed as bright as day to her, right now. Her fur was . . . moving, dancing almost, like there was lightning in the air, and little flickers of static electricity, like green fire, arced through it here and there. Her ears seemed sharper, and her teeth certainly were, small, but sharp canines poking out over her lip. She spun from the mirror, panting. She had to calm down, to get a grip on herself! It had been . . . Had been a long time, since she'd allowed herself to lose it like this. She had never allowed the beast to be free, had sworn she would keep it locked away inside of herself, and when she couldn't, then she'd lock herself up in the cellar of the old tool shed. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking of Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith and Big Macintosh- The big fool! Arguing with her about this! He'd got her all het up and she'd been in a mood all day cuz of it! This was his fault! He needed to stay in his place! She was alpha here, not him! She spun with a growl that sounded far too animal like. She grimaced, moving over, feeling like her hooves were unsteady on the floor, as she forced open a drawer on the dresser, digging down to the bottom of it and pulled out a small baggie. Inside was something rare. Not illegal, but certainly something which would have made plenty of ponies lift an eyebrow or two, especially if it was found in the home of a respectable farmer, like the Apples. Imported from Griffinstone, it was a bag of chicken jerky. She opened it up, the smell hitting her nose and instantly making her mouth flood with saliva. She swallowed it down, before tipping her head back and pouring some of the dried meat into her mouth. The flavour was like ambrosia, and she had to stop herself from dumping the whole bag down her gullet. As she chewed and swallowed, she tried to push the feelings of guilt and shame away from her thoughts. It wasn't like they didn't raise chickens and pigs on the farm for more than just pest control and trash disposal. Every other year, a load of them were shipped off to Manehattan, where they'd be loaded on a boat and taken over to the Griffin lands, to be sold for slaughter. Still . . . She swallowed the last bite, feeling, if not well fed, at least content, for the first time that day. She closed the bag up, her breathing back to normal. As she turned to put the bag away, she glanced up, hesitantly, to the mirror. Everything seemed back to normal, and she watched as a last small arc of static lightning flickered over her fur, before burning out. She sighed in relief, nearly sobbing before her head was pulled up by a knock on the door. "Sis?" Apple Bloom's voice called out, and Applejack double checked herself in the mirror quickly, sighing again, before turning. "Yeah! I'm comin', Bloom!" She said, walking over to the door, to go put her little sister to bed.