Winter came slowly to the land, but the cold was already taking root. Where the lightly forested lowlands mixed with open grassy plains, dandelion seeds joined the leaves that filled the air. With no stampede or race to help them along, the forest’s leaves fell only after color had long since drained from them and they were dry and brittle things.
Fluttershy giggled as she leapt the small brook that crossed the forest floor to join Applejack on the other side. Together, they trotted onwards under the sparse canopy. “Okay, what about Rarity?”
“Rarity? Oh don’t get me started!” Applejack laughed, shaking her head. “Twi would be fine even if she couldn’t just whisk us back home, but Rarity?”
“Oh she’s much stronger than she looks,” Fluttershy admonished. “And you would be surprised how tenacious she can be when she really puts her mind to something.”
“I know, sugar,” Applejack allowed, still grinning. “I was just making a joke of it, honest. How about you and, say, Pinkie Pie?”
Fluttershy stifled another giggle. “Oh my, I doubt we’d get home at all.”
“Now there’s a load of hooey,” Applejack snorted. “You know she ain’t silly all the time, and I bet you could talk some sense into her if you had to. Point is, doubt there are any two of us who wouldn’t do fine together, and that’s why I reckon the others are safe.”
“I suppose,” Fluttershy nodded, craning her neck as she sought the sun through the trees, squinting against the sharp light where it filtered past their crowns. “Um, I think we might be off course again. Just a teensy bit. We should have checked after we went around that hill earlier today.”
“Right,” Applejack grunted as halted, sliding the saddlebags off her back. “You fly up and check, I’ll get the map. Reckon’ we should take a break while we’re at it? Might as well call it here, make camp.”
Fluttershy shed her saddlebags and took wing before Applejack had even finished her sentence. It had become routine by necessity. With a map and no compass but the sun and stars, and with no knowledge of the land, Fluttershy spent quite a bit of time in the air scouting for landmarks. It was odd, that, how her wings had suddenly become so important to the pair where before they had almost been a symbol of her inadequacy, at least to herself.
Now, Fluttershy flew in tight circles as she gained height, finding a measure of pride in her wings. Higher she climbed, up and up until the forest was a vast carpet of green below. She could barely see the ocean anymore, still a little sad that they were journeying further inland, but it was quickly forgotten now. Her gaze lingered a little longer than usual before she made her descent. Mere minutes after she started her climb she drifted back down through the canopy to find that Applejack was almost done setting camp.
The blanket they used as a tarp was draped over a low and sturdy branch, and their saddlebags were safely nestled in its shadow, their cloaks already prepared as bedding. The precious map was spread out on the ground under the orange mare’s hooves, as was the journal that had hid it.
“So, are we making any progress?” Applejack asked, flicking her hat on to the bedding and shaking out her mane.
“I think so. I think I see the lake that’s on the map,” Fluttershy replied, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “I saw something big and flat past the forest, but it’s already getting dark. Maybe we’ll see it tomorrow, but I know I saw something.”
“Really?” Applejack asked, breaking into a huge grin. “Well, don’t that beat all.”
Fluttershy nodded, the thrill of discovery still surging through her body. “That might mean we’re heading in the right direction, perhaps there really is a village further north-east! Maybe somepony, or, um, well, someone knows how much further it is to Equestria. To home. If the village is still there, I mean.”
“Villages don’t disappear in a couple o’ hundred years, I’m sure it’s there. I just wish this darn thing made more sense,” Applejack grumbled, glaring at the map. The old and worn cloth had seen better days, and it was a small thing, barely twice the size of the journal with its pages opened. The center of the map was dominated by the mountains from where they’d come, where they had found the map itself, and the forest they journeyed through covered much of the rest. The valley with the fortress and the earth pony ruins were all marked with odd signs that meant nothing to them, and accurate distances and scale must have been a very secondary concern for the cartographer.
“Thing’s barely useful at all,” Applejack added, giving the map a poke. “Just glad if the lake’s up ahead and that you’re right. If that’s true, the little marker with the houses past it shouldn’t be far.”
“And after that,” Fluttershy continued, her eyes wandering past the little circle that had to be the lake, past the crude houses marked with illegible script to where an arrow pointed off the map. Below the arrow were more runes that neither of the two ponies could read, and in far less elegant scrawled ink beneath, an infinitely more readable “Equestria.”
“Yup,” Applejack agreed, gently folding the map. As she went to tuck it away amidst their other scavenged supplies, Fluttershy sat and parted the pages of the journal they had taken from the Dreamspire weeks ago. While Applejack made for lovely company, it was soothing to read the strange unicorn’s writing again just to remind herself that there were—or at least had been—other creatures out here beyond the weird and wonderful creatures of the great forest.
Fluttershy let her gaze wander at that. They had seen huge and loud birds with jagged beaks, critters who looked much like otters yet hunted mice, and other, stranger things besides, but not a single creature who spoke. Behind them, between the trees, she could still see the towering mountains that had hid the Dreamspire. It was hard to imagine the horizon without those immense peaks.
“What’re you thinking ‘bout then?” Applejack asked, tilting her head from over by their little tarp-become-tent.
“Oh. Well, nothing,” Fluttershy muttered, quickly averting her eyes.
“If you’re thinking about Castellan, he wasn’t a pony.” Applejack scratched at her nose. “Just something a pony made. It’s right sad that he had to go and destroy everything, but it ain’t like he could die. He—or it never lived.”
“I know. But Brighthoof did,” Fluttershy replied, walking over join her atop the cloaks that lined their bedding area. The wind was sharp now that the sun had set. “I wonder if he got away. Maybe he found a different way out?”
“Maybe,” Applejack muttered, laying down next to her. Side by side, they stared out at the darkening forest around them. Everything was a little off, even if it wasn’t exactly scary. The animals were different, some of the trees were new, and half of the plants and berries were unknown to Fluttershy. It was as if though she was in any of the little forests that surrounded Ponyville: they could have been in the Whitetail Woods or the Proudleaf forest, except that somepony else was telling the tale, not her, and they didn’t get it quite right.
Not scary, no, but unsettling. Different. And it never felt so keen as it did when the night fell. Birds sang strange songs when the darkness came, and they had an endless repertoire of new sounds.
“I just miss ponies. People,” Fluttershy said, leaning closer to Applejack until their sides touched. Only then could she close her eyes and let herself rest, once more wishing for a wing to cover her back, this time with neither shame nor hesitation.
They broke camp and set off through the woods again with a sunrise that was oddly late. Applejack’s long experience in rising with the sun suggested that the darkness lingered longer than it should, but she’d barely completed the thought when the first rays of dawn filtered through the forest.
She had stopped counting the days. In fact, she had stopped twice. First because she suspected she’d lost count, and the second time because there was no real point to it. Even with seasons that slowly changed of their own accord rather than in a matter of days like they ought to, it sufficed to say that autumn was giving way to winter.
“I reckon it won’t really snow much,” Applejack said on a whim as she leapt a fallen log. Fluttershy flapped her wings to clear the obstacle and tilted her head as she landed.
“Unless it’s all gonna fall at once, I mean,” Applejack added. “It’s warmer here’n back home, don’t you think?”
“I think so. It hasn’t really rained since the day after we landed,” Fluttershy agreed as they trotted on. Ahead, the woodland was becoming more and more sparse. Dry, even. Low grass and copses of trees dotted the lowlands, and there was precious little else to see.
“Sounds about right,” Applejack murmured. It was an easy, comfortable silence between the two as they walked. There were limits to how many times you could say the same things without it becoming trite, and they’d had none but each other for company for so long, the few things they hadn’t talked to death were the things they didn’t really want to talk about anyway. Still, they had their ongoing little topics and games.
“Okay, hit me. I’ll trade ya for an apple pie when we get back,” the farmpony said with the beginnings of a smile.
“Hm? Oh, goodness, I really shouldn’t,” Fluttershy replied.
“Sugar, if you and R.D. have known eachother for so many years, I refuse to believe you don’t have just one more little embarrasin’ thing about her that only you know about,” Applejack retorted, bumping into her as they trotted along. Fluttershy giggled and tossed her mane.
“Oh okay, but I think you owe me at least a dozen apple pies already.”
“Fourteen,” Applejack nodded.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like something else.”
“Well, of course. Fritters? Crumblers? Caramel apples?” Applejack asked, though she could already tell she was on the wrong track. Fluttershy wasn’t looking at her, the pegasus biting her lower lip.
“I want to ask a question of my own,” she finally said.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Applejack admitted. “But fine. Come on already. Something I can tease Rainbow Dash with. I know you got something for me, sugar.”
Fluttershy nodded and glanced skywards at the grey clouds that marred the dark blue, as if looking for inspiration. “You won’t actually tell her or make fun of her for it, will you?”
Applejack sighed and let out a low chuckle. “Fourteen apple pies, and fourteen times you’ve said those words or something like it. ‘Course I won’t, it’s just all in good fun.”
Fluttershy nodded. “Well, um, she was afraid of geese, once. Does that count?”
“Geese,” Applejack repeated. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“No,” Fluttershy affirmed, giggling. “She had a little accident with a flock of geese in flight school, and it didn’t go very well. It ended with her needing a few stitches.”
Applejack gave a bark of laughter, grinning so wide her face hurt, but Fluttershy’s mirth was far more subdued, the pegasus actually wincing.
“I introduced her to Belle, a lovely little goose, soon after I moved to Ponyville, and I think she’s over it, but she still thinks they fly in, um ‘attack formation’ for a reason.”
“Doubt I’ll soon forget that.” Applejack shook her head. “Alright, fair’s fair. Your turn then.”
Fluttershy glanced over at her. “You said you needed to get home. It’s more than you just missing your family, isn’t it?”
Applejack puffed out her cheeks and kept her legs moving as she thought. She’d barely taken five more steps before Fluttershy went on.
“If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine, you don’t have to answer that. I mean, you’re probably just worried about the harvest like I hope that somepony’s taking care of all the animals and—”
“It ain’t that,” Applejack said, jerking her head forwards so her hat would sit right. “It’s about mom and dad.”
“Oh,” Fluttershy voiced.
“Ain’t much to tell, sugar. They went out one day when I was so little I don’t even remember. Granny Smith said she thought they were heading by road to Clopenhagen like they would every spring before sowing the crops. Never came back.”
Fluttershy gave her another covert little glance, her eyes glistening in the sunlight. Applejack could feel a lump worming its way up her throat. She forced it back down as she drew to a halt.
“If I ain’t cryin’ over this, you don’t get get to,” Applejack muttered. “Was a long time ago and I don’t remember anything about them except that I miss them.”
Fluttershy nodded, blinking rapidly as she sniffled. “Sorry,” she whispered. It was all Applejack could do to draw her into a quick hug, the two ponies exchanging smiles before they kept moving towards a distant copse of trees they’d marked from the map earlier in the day, now at a slower walk.
“The stupid part is, Granny Smith never realized something was up until she noticed mom had left her hat.” Applejack shrugged. “She never went anywhere without it, but she left it in my crib.”
“Something was wrong?” Fluttershy repeated, shifting the weight of her saddlebags. The pegasus was frowning at her.
“Well, considerin’ as how even back then, the road to Clopenhagen was nice and well travelled, and nopony’s gone missing within Equestria for goodness knows how long, I’d say.”
Applejack arched her neck. “May be that I checked and found out that nopony ever saw them travel towards Clopenhagen that spring either. It don’t matter much now, does it? Well, except to make me want to get home. I don’t have a stallion or a mare in my life right now, but I have a family all the same, and I don’t want to do the same to them. Apples ain’t meant to wander this far from home.”
Fluttershy gave her a long look, her expression blank as they walked. It carried on for so long, Applejack finally looked away, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. “What now, then?”
“You want to get home for them, for your family, not yourself,” Fluttershy said, finally letting go of her with her gaze. “It’s very nice of you.”
“Nice, is it?” Applejack grumped, one of her the corners of her mouth tugging at her face.
“Sorry, I just—”
“I get it. Thanks,” the earth pony muttered, leaning over to nudge her in what she hoped was an affectionate manner. “It's just gildin' it, that's all. Not wanting them to be sad 'cause I don't want them to lose me, that's much the same as wanting our friends to be happy, to get to see us again. It's all the same. Can't say I don't want to get back home for the chance at an apple pie, too."
"You can have a slice of mine," Fluttershy suggested, smiling.
"Sorry, what?" Applejack asked, blinking.
"Since you owe me fourteen of them, you have a lot of apple pies to bake," she responded, giggling.