Tales from Macabria: Blood Magic
“Right. Let’s have that again.”
“Okay,” Apple Bloom muttered, as she looked over the plate before herself.
One week had passed since Apple Bloom had gone to live in the dark world to study witchcraft.
The hour was growing late. And for what felt like the trillionth time, Apple Bloom was looking over a large plate that was strewn with rosemary. At least, what looked like it.
As part of her training, Apple Bloom was to choose the one true sprig of rosemary from among a platter of other herbs that had been magically transformed to look, feel and smell exactly the same as rosemary did.
According to Courtney, the witch who had offered to teach Apple Bloom, it was training to hone her senses and attune herself to the magic in all things. But as time went by, Apple Bloom was beginning to think that all magic felt the same.
“This one?” the filly said, taking a sprig of the herb.
“No. Try again,” Courtney said, as she slowly circled the tiny table where the plate was set.
In the dim light, only the outline of the witch’s slender figure was visible, along with her unnatural eyes, which glowed deep blue in the dark.
“Mmm...This one?” Apple Bloom said, picking up another herb.
Courtney’s eyes shook back and forth in the dark.
“Not so. Put it back,” she said.
Below the table, Apple Bloom wobbled her hooves back and forth, then jerked her hoof away from the splintered edge of one of the legs. She then felt the hot breath of Winona’s panting against her hoof.
“C’mon, girl. Help me out here,” the filly whispered, too quietly for Courtney to hear.
Winona huffed quietly back.
At the sound of the huff, Courtney glimpsed down below the table. For what sounded like a simple canine noise was to any witch a communication from their familiar. However, her suspicions were unfounded. Though she couldn’t understand Winona, the collie was telling Apple Bloom that she wouldn’t help her to cheat in her task.
Courtney stepped behind Apple Bloom, just as the filly chose another sprig.
“And again, incorrect,” Courtney said.
“Horse apples!” the filly whispered.
An idea occurred to her. The simplest thing to do would be to eliminate the incorrect choices. And so, she took the sprig she had just chosen and placed it on the table to the side of the plate.
“Put it back on the plate. We won’t have any cheats here,” Courtney said.
“Then how the hay am I supposed to find the real rosemary?” Apple Bloom snapped.
Courtney sighed and touched her fingertip to the wicks of every nearby candle, lighting up the attic as brightly as if she were using lamps.
“I’ve told you before, Apple Bloom. You must feel the distinct magickal signature of each of the herbs to tell them apart,” Courtney replied.
“Can’t I just taste ‘em to do that?”
“Only if you want to discern their culinary purposes. If you truly want to understand the magickal purpose and effect of each, you must be able to feel the magic that lies hidden in all things. Haven’t you been studying?” Courtney replied.
“Yeah. I been studyin’ my flank off all week fer this. But all these dumb books I get say is to open yerself to the world around ya. What the hay’s that even mean?”
“It means that you must learn a different way of perception. To learn what happens around you at a deeper level. Beyond simple sight, sound or touch, so that you’ll be able to recognise how to use a magickal component, and what for. Are you sure you’ve studied?” Courtney repeated.
“Yeah. I been readin’,” Apple Bloom replied.
Courtney noticed the way the filly’s eyes glanced away for a moment. A tad dodgy, she thought.
“Mm-hm...Reading what, precisely?” she asked.
Winona facilitated the answer by nudging Apple Bloom’s saddlebag toward Courtney.
“And what’s this?” Courtney wondered, as she lifted the bag and set it on the table.
“Just my readin’ material,” Apple Bloom said, taking her saddlebag back.
The moment she tried to put it back on the floor, Winona dug her nose into the bag and removed one of the books with her teeth.
“Hey!” Apple Bloom said, trying to take the book back.
Winona was too quick for Apple Bloom, weaving her head effortlessly around her filly’s hooves and offering the book to Courtney.
“Thank you kindly, Winona,” the witch said, taking the book and examining the cover. “One-Hundred Ways to Hex and Bewitch? I don’t recall loaning this to you.”
“I found it in yer library. I thought it might have somethin’ useful fer me to learn,'' Apple Bloom explained.
“Possibly so. For the moment, you may want to continue with the material I’ve assigned,” Courtney said, drawing the next book from the bag: a beginner’s witchcraft manual. Her phosphorescent eyes caught sight of the corner of a red cover with gilded pages. “What’s this?”
Apple Bloom tried to think of an explanation for that last book. But before she ever got the words out, Courtney quickly withdrew the book and the witch’s face turned to a dour scowl.
The book was thick and ornately decorated with gold markings. In the very center of the cover was a gnarled, old hand. On the palm of the hand was carved a bloody five-pointed star with runes drawn between the points.
“Is this what you’ve been reading?” Courtney gravely inquired.
“Er...Just a bit,” Apple Bloom answered.
“Is this what you’re hoping to train towards?” the witch said, placing the book before Apple Bloom
“No. But, I thought maybe it could help--”
“It won’t help you. I’m sorry to say, but this is no instruction manual. It’s only a history book about the illegality of blood magic. And of all the magic you could hope to learn, even if it were not against the law, this is not the way to go about it,” Courtney said. “Have you any idea the consequences of performing even the simplest blood magic spell? Do you know the number of witches who have gone missing or died from invoking such forces?”
“Yeah. They talk about that in the foreword,” Apple Bloom said, opening the book to the front and turning the pages. “But, it can’t all be bad. It says here there was a man who could turn into a werecat by pullin’ off his skin with a spinnin’ wheel. An’ there was this one lady what summoned some kind o’ devil whatsit to learn stuff she didn’t know. That ain’t so bad, is it?”
At those last words, Apple Bloom saw Courtney’s hand slowly but firmly shut the book. Looking up, the filly saw her mentor’s eyes narrow with a sternness she had only seen once before when she and her friends had accidentally lured a monster to Sweet Apple Acres.
“Apple Bloom,” Courtney deliberately began, “Blood magic is illegal because it’s not only a danger to the caster. It can easily put the natural order of all things into peril. And if I ever hear that you’ve been practising, even studying it, I’ll send you straight home. And I will not allow you to learn witchcraft. Do you understand?”
“Bu--”
“Do. You. Understand?”
The severity in the witch’s tone let Apple Bloom know that she would keep good her word. If she ever wanted to continue her education in dark magic, she would have to comply with Courtney’s rules.
“Yeah. I got it. No blood magic,” Apple Bloom said.
“See that you keep your word on it,” Courtney said, “As it is, I think it’s time we ended our lesson for the night. And since I’ve the morning off tomorrow, we’ll resume our lessons first thing after breakfast.”
“Sure thing,” Apple Bloom said, gathering her books and leaving the table with Winona.
And with a wave of her hand, Courtney extinguished the lights of the candles.
Witch, filly and collie left the dark and dismal attic to the stairs beyond. Down in the hallway the gas lamps on the walls ignited with tiny flames, dimly lighting the way to the living quarters down the way.
Courtney was the first to retire to her room. She changed into her nightgown and walked to her bed. Except the bed was already occupied.
Bruce, Courtney’s three hundred-fifty pound pet werewolf, was covering most of the bed with his muscular bulk.
“You. Off,” the witch said, snapping her fingers and pointing to the floor.
Bruce yawned lethargically and crawled to the floor. After he left, his impression remained deep in the bedding.
“Now there’s a crater in my mattress. Lovely…” Courtney yawned.
Too tired to do anything about it, Courtney simply crawled into bed, sunk deep into Bruce’s impression, and quickly drifted off to sleep.
Down the hall, Apple Bloom reached her own bedroom door and stopped a moment as each of the lamps in the hall slowly dimmed. There, back in the attic would be the plate of rosemary waiting for her in the morning. Not one week into her training, and she already met the bane of her education.
The last of the lamps dimmed, and in the dark the filly saw the smoke rise like a wistful phantom from the wick of the nearest light. The only light left was the orange glow from her own eyes. And with one last look toward the attic door, Apple Bloom followed Winona into their room.
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were already fast asleep in their beds. Apple Bloom and Winona treaded carefully across the wooden floor, careful not to step on the spots that creaked. In seconds, Apple Bloom crossed the floor, removed her bow from her mane and laid down in her bed by the window. At the foot of her bed, Winona curled up to sleep. Or, she would have. But, Apple Bloom was still restless.
The moon beyond the window shone brightly upon the pages of Apple Bloom’s open book. One look to the gilded edges of the pages, and Winona knew precisely what her filly was reading, and whimpered quietly.
“I know, girl. I’m just studyin’ some stuff,” Apple Bloom said.
Winona whimpered again.
Apple Bloom didn’t answer this time. Her eyes darted constantly across the page. Searching. Seeking.
The case of the woman who sought knowledge was mentioned only briefly in passing. But, Apple Bloom knew that she was the key to passing her first test. If she could only find the answers.
Many minutes passed, and Apple Bloom had gone over the same two pages over and over. Nearly no information was revealed about how that woman acquired knowledge from beyond. Only that it was communicated to her somehow.
“Communicate…” Apple Bloom whispered to herself.
Winona’s ears folded slightly when she watched Apple Bloom reach over to her nightstand for a pouch drawn with a string, then roll out of bed.
“I’ll be back, girl,” Apple Bloom whispered.
Winona whimpered.
“I just gotta get some stuff,” was all Apple Bloom replied, before continuing to the door.
Winona circled around to the front of her filly and stood low and broad.
“I can’t go to bed now. I know how I can find that stupid rosemary.”
Winona lowered her stance and stared intently at Apple Bloom. It was a look that the filly knew all too well. The same way that Winona looked at a sheep that she was about to herd. And the way that she huffed made Apple Bloom know that she meant business.
“Winona,” Apple Bloom whispered loudly through her clenched teeth. “I been tryin’ to find that rosemary all week. If I don’t get that rosemary now, I ain’t never gonna learn any other lessons. An’ if you rat me out to anypony, I ain’t gonna get to be a witch no more an’ you won’t be my familiar. Understand?”
Winona was silent. As Apple Bloom’s familiar, it was her duty to keep Apple Bloom safe from harm, but to also do as she said. Weighing her options, Winona bowed her head and stepped aside.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Apple Bloom whispered.
Without a sound, Apple Bloom opened her door and crept out into the dark hallway. This time, the gaslights didn’t ignite, leaving her completely in the darkness. The only light to be seen was the smokey vapors of orange flitting from her eyes.
Only a vague outline of each door could be seen by Apple Bloom. She counted each one of them, until she found the one that she was sure she was looking for. Reaching up, she carefully turned the knob and pushed the door open.
A guttural snort greeted her the moment the door was an inch open. Apple Bloom recoiled and waited a moment. Another snort sounded, followed by a long exhale.
“Bruce,” Apple Bloom thought to herself.
The filly quietly traipsed into the room, seeing her goal lit up by the moonlight from the window. There was Courtney’s night table, unguarded beside her bed.
Apple Bloom exhaled slowly over her trembling heart, and carefully began walking toward the night table. She was not five steps in when she felt something against her hoof.
Biting her lip to stifle a shout, the filly looked down to see what had grabbed at her. In the darkness, she saw nothing. But in shadow-checkered light of the window, she saw a long, bushy tail twitching on the floor. From her side, she heard a lethargic yawn. Then she felt enormous fingers curling around her hoof.
Apple Bloom quickly pulled her hoof from the unseen grip, and quickly tried to escape toward the night table. In the moonlight, she saw a pair of canine legs stretch backward, and felt a pair of muscular arms reach across the floor behind herself.
Quick as a wink, the filly jumped over the rear paws as they curled forward, and landed with a thump on the carpeted floor.
A rustle from the bed stopped Apple Bloom’s heart. Somewhere deep in the covers, a witch stirred from her sleep.
Apple Bloom realized then that she was standing directly in the light of the moon and ducked into the shadows to the side. It was then that she cursed not bringing along a pair of dark glasses, like the ones Courtney wore when she wanted to hide her luminous eyes.
More sounds came from the bed, and Apple Bloom snapped her eyes shut. She froze, not daring to even breathe.
A low, long breath came from Courtney’s bed, followed soon by another. Apple Bloom cracked her eye open, allowing just a sliver of orange to be shown in the darkness.
There was Courtney’s colorless hand hanging limply over the side of the mattress. Between the light of the moon and the stark white sheets, Apple Bloom may have missed it, if not for the nails colored solid black.
From where she stood, Apple Bloom craned her neck toward Courtney’s night table and took the drawer’s knob in her teeth. She pulled the drawer open without a sound and peered in. There was just enough light from the moon to see what she needed. Careful not to rattle the other contents within, Apple Bloom took the box of matches out, then closed the drawer just as silently.
Courtney’s hand twitched, making Apple Bloom snap her gaze to it. She didn’t even bother stopping that time. The filly quickly darted into the darkness beyond the window, stepping carefully over Bruce’s legs. When she was at his middle, the werewolf began to stir.
Apple Bloom froze, and waited as Bruce rolled over onto his back, his four limbs lethargically chasing after some dreamt up rabbit. Or whatever creatures lived in the world of darkness. Once the danger was clear, the filly went out the door and silently closed it behind herself.
Apple Bloom sighed as her whole body loosened up. Before she ever knew what she would do next, she stood up and quietly hurried to the door at the end of the hall.
The steps to the attic laid before her. At the very top, the glow of the moon through the window illuminated the attic floor. Though they were no louder than normal, each creak of the steps was amplified a thousand times to Apple Bloom’s ears. Partway up, she touched a hoof to the pouch around her neck. Everything she needed was in there. And the matches in her teeth were as good as a key to unlock the secrets she desired.
Though no light was on in the house, the attic seemed darkest of all. Not even the light of the moon shone through the window at the far end of the room. Making sure that the door was closed behind her, Apple Bloom took a match from the box and struck it aflame.
The match flared up, lighting up barely any of the dark room. Only enough for Apple Bloom to see the way to the nearest candle on the table. She lit the wick and the table lit up before her eyes.
There they were. Like a needle in a haystack, the one true sprig of rosemary laid somewhere among the many imposters.
It was time.
Apple Bloom cleared a space on the platter, opened the pouch around her neck and arranged a hoofful of its contents in a small pile. The flowers and acorns from the pouch were set the same way that she had done so many times before when she wanted to talk with her family. All she needed now was one last ingredient.
Below the chair, Apple Bloom looked for that splintered leg. She felt around in the dark, and immediately found that missing chunk of wood, its edges brushing her hoof like the teeth of a saw blade.
Her chest clenched as she brushed her hoof against the jagged edge of the broken wood. She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply, before dashing her hoof across the chair’s leg.
Apple Bloom had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She opened her eyes, and saw her hoof glistening red in the light of the candle. She looked at her hoof, thinking for a moment that the trickles of blood formed a familiar pattern. A shape that made her cut feel cold.
Shadows danced across the rosemary in the flickering light of the candle, beckoning Apple Bloom to find the true herb among them.
As if drawn by an invisible thread, Apple Bloom’s hoof hovered across the table, over the pile of flowers and acorns. She watched the blood all trickle down her hoof, gathering up at the tip into a single drop that grew heavier and heavier.
There was no turning back now. The drop of blood fell onto the tiny mound of ingredients, staining it with a dot of red. Then another and another.
Apple Bloom grew suddenly aware of the severity of her cut and looked frantically for a way to bandage it. There were no medical supplies in the attic, and she knew she couldn’t risk passing Courtney’s bedroom more than necessary. In a desperate move, she tore the white cloth that covered the table and tightened it around her cut hoof.
The improvised bandage quickly stained red, which stopped spreading after a second. With that taken care of, Apple Bloom took the candle from its sconce and touched the flame to the bloodied ingredients.
The ingredients on the platter burst into flame and quickly snuffed out, leaving only dozens of wisps of smoke, which mingled with the light of Apple Bloom’s eyes.
The filly sat staring at the smoke, and recalled the way that she always contacted her family when she used smoke channeling. She always had them pictured firmly in her mind, or called their names. Only this time, she had no idea who or what she was going to contact. One of the first things she had learned as a witch-in-training was that there was power in words, and the conviction behind them.
“Spirits o’ blood magic. I don’t know who you are, but I need yer help,” Apple Bloom whispered to the curling smoke.
Even she knew that was no good. Feeling her heart race ever faster, Apple Bloom fought to steady her voice.
“O...O spirit from beyond who craves the blood of the livin’, I ask for yer help. Blood fer a boon. My meager offerin’ fer a meager task. I ask ya now fer the answers I seek...Fer my blood offerin’, help me…”
Apple Bloom waited in silence for her magic to manifest. She could hear her heart beating loudly, as if it had jumped up into her ears. For eternal seconds, Apple Bloom watched the burning mound of ingredients, but the smoke remained unchanged. It simply billowed and curled as it always had.
Of course it wouldn’t have worked. She had only been training for a week. Even if it was illegal, blood magic was sure to be extraordinarily difficult. Apple Bloom sighed and wondered how she was going to explain her cut hoof to Courtney. Then, she saw it.
Even though she had sighed directly into the billowing smoke, not a wisp of it had blown away from her. She watched as it swayed back and forth, then engulfed the nearby candle. The flame on the wick flickered violently, as if to resist as it shrunk smaller and smaller, until it snuffed out altogether.
In the dim light that was left in the attic, Apple Bloom was just able to see her breath as she exhaled. She sat shivering in her seat, feeling as if some terrifying stranger were watching her from afar.
“Hello?” Apple Bloom quietly called.
She looked around the attic, hoping no answer would come. From every dark corner, she could feel a hundred eyes watching her.
Silence permeated the attic. Not even the creaking of the house settling was heard. Not knowing what else to do, Apple Bloom reached out her bandaged hoof to smother the smoking ingredients.
“Who are you?”
A deep voice droned out of the darkness, as if from the gullet of some infernal beast that was never meant to speak. Whatever it was, Apple Bloom didn’t reply.
“Who are you?” the voice repeated.
“I…I ain’t supposed to tell my name to strangers,” Apple Bloom said, remembering the advice her family had given her.
“Yes. You are wise to not give your name.”
Apple Bloom remained silent. Slowly, she turned her eyes around the attic, looking for the voice that was coming from the dark.
“You are a witch,” the voice said in a way that Apple Bloom wasn’t sure was stating or asking.
“Y...Yeah. I’m trainin’ to be a witch,” Apple Bloom said.
“And you desire knowledge,” the voice continued.
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom answered, shrinking in her seat.
“There is something you cannot overcome. An obstacle that has stagnated your study of the dark arts. And you wish to know a way past it.”
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said, slightly less hesitantly.
The disembodied voice chuckled in the dark, entirely mirthlessly.
“As it was with others before you, you seek the power of another to learn that which you cannot comprehend.”
“Kinda. I just wanna know how to find some rosemary,” Apple Bloom said.
More laughter came from the dark, and Apple Bloom became aware of it coming from all around her. As though some invisible audience had joined them, she felt a hundred other presences in the room.
“You know nothing of the power you now wield, do you?” the voice asked.
“Well, it’s my first try. Should I do it again?” Apple Bloom asked, feeling suddenly as if she had said the wrong thing.
“No. You’ve done well enough.”
Somewhere deep inside herself, Apple Bloom was smiling. And the more she looked at the burning flowers and acorns, she thought she could see something that wasn’t there before. Something that she could hardly describe, but feel very slightly.
With that feeling came another. As if the phantom audience had moved somehow closer to her. Boxing her in from all sides.
“Do you still wish to know what you cannot attain?” the voice asked.
Apple Bloom swallowed hard and answered, “Uh-huh. I still wanna know.”
More laughter from the dark.
“All I ask then is for more blood.”
“Huh?”
“Blood. The essence of the living. Feed me, and I’ll forever serve your every whim.”
Sweat poured down Apple Bloom’s forehead, feeling now as if somebody, or something, was looking directly over her shoulders. To her side more of those unusual feelings were cropping up like rows of corn. Dozens of new, nagging sensations that felt different than the devils on her shoulders.
Only half aware, Apple Bloom started unwrapping the cloth from her hoof. Somehow, she felt as if she were being egged on by the unseen onlookers.
She raised her hoof to the table.
“Yes…” the voice whispered from nowhere.
Apple Bloom’s eyes locked onto the smoldering mound. She watched as another puff of smoke billowed malevolently from within it, and stayed her hoof. To her side, more of those nagging feelings called out loudly to her.
“You hesitate. Have you forgotten why you called upon my power? Feed me.”
Apple Bloom glanced over to the direction of the odd sensations, and saw only the silhouette of the other herbs against the darkness.
“Blood, damn you! I hunger!”
The attic grew suddenly colder, and Apple Bloom felt her bloody hoof taken ahold by what felt like chilled mist. With her teeth, she reached into the plate of herbs, grabbed one and felt a sudden strange sensation as if the audience around her had been pushed away.
She drove the herb deep into the smoldering flowers and acorns, and felt the grip on her bloody hoof released as the scent of sage filled the air.
“Get out! I don’t want ya here no more!” Apple Bloom said.
The sounds of distant shouting filled the attic, which grew fainter and fainter until they all but disappeared.
Apple Bloom sat silently as the candle next to her flickered back to life. She looked around, and the world was as it should be. She saw nothing. She heard nothing. Most of all, she felt nothing. For the longest time, Apple Bloom let the sage burn, hoping it would clear out any remainder of the voice, or whatever it belonged to. The whole time, she kept her eyes on the plate of herbs, feeling as if her very life had been saved by the smallest of things. A lesson that she would never forget.
In time, the flowers and acorns stopped smoldering, and the smoke thinned out completely. Feeling no more of that terrible presence, Apple Bloom wrapped the shred of cloth around her hoof, blew out the candle and silently returned to her bed.
Morning came. As usual, it was just as dark as the night. Sweetie Belle was the first to wake up and light the lamps, before she and Scootaloo both trotted downstairs to breakfast. Right after them, Winona sat at the landing and waited for Apple Bloom to slump down each step one at a time. Their eyes met for only a moment, and Apple Bloom said nothing.
Courtney was already in the kitchen, still in her nightgown and robe, ushering the fillies to the table, where Bruce curled up underneath awaiting any scraps of crust from Sweetie Belle’s toast.
Apple Bloom took her seat, not joining in with the morning chatter of the others. It was only moments later that Courtney turned around with a platter in her hand.
“Right, fillies. Breakfast is served. Toast with beans for Scootaloo,” Courtney said, as she served Scootaloo her toast. “Toast and jam for Sweetie Belle,” she said, serving Sweetie. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Apple Bloom. “And you, Apple Bloom, may begin with this.”
Before Apple Bloom could ask what she meant, Courtney placed a plateful of burned acorns and flowers before the filly.
“Gross! Are you really gonna eat that?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Perhaps. After she explains why she was in my room last night, taking my matches without permission and burning ingredients for smoke channeling. With sage, if Bruce is to be believed,” Courtney said, her arms crossed. “Shall we hear it, Apple Bloom?”
“I…” Apple Bloom began.
Once again, she shrank in her seat, feeling more evil upon her than when she was in the attic last night. Even her friends were staring at her, waiting to hear the explanation.
Bruce’s yellow eyes glinted at her from beneath the table.
Winona shuffled her paws, egging Apple Bloom on.
“I was…tryin’ to burn some sage, ‘cause I thought doin’ that with some smoke channelin’ might help me find that rosemary,” Apple Bloom weakly replied, casting her gaze down.
Courtney tightened her crossed arms.
“That, Apple Bloom, is precisely why you must learn the magickal signature of all things before you use them. Besides, you’ve already learned the magickal properties of sage as a binder and repellant of spirits. Not at all helpful for dowsing or divining,” the witch said, before taking back the platter of burnt ingredients and throwing it in her bin.
“What happened to your hoof?” Scootaloo said.
Apple Bloom’s mind wiped clear when she saw Courtney focus on her hastily bandaged hoof. The cloth she had used was caked with dry blood, which had turned a rusty color.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Apple Bloom managed to say.
“Can you at least change the bandage? I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish breakfast if you don’t,” Sweetie Belle said, pushing her plate away.
“How did this happen?” Courtney asked.
One look at the witch, and Apple Bloom felt her blood freeze again. Her mind raced for an explanation. In the end, she decided the truth needed to be told.
“I cut it on yer chair in the attic last night,” was all Apple Bloom said.
Courtney’s eyes narrowed again as she loosed a low sigh.
“I’m so sorry, Apple Bloom,” Courtney said.
Apple Bloom’s ears lowered with her gaze.
“I’ve been meaning to replace that chair for months. I didn’t mean for you to hurt yourself on it. Come on. Let’s get that hoof properly bandaged, then we’ll choose your topping for toast,” Courtney said.
“Yeah!” Apple Bloom said, more elated than she had meant to, making everyone else jump. “I mean, thanks. This cut stings somethin’ fierce.”
Courtney guided Apple Bloom away, leaving the others to breakfast. For Apple Bloom, she had learned a lesson that she would never forget. And for the rest of the week, she chose to find the rosemary the honest way.