Ember stirred. Something was wrong.
She wasn’t warm enough, for one thing. Curled up around nothing, that was another—there should have been something, or somepony, in her outstretched arms. And then there was the dull pain somewhere south of her chest.
Opening her eyes, Ember woke up to a room she didn’t recognize. It took her brain a couple of moments to kick in and remind her that, yes, it would have been creepier if she had recognized it. This was Applejack’s cabin. Applejack’s room. Which meant that…
“Applejack?” Ember mumbled as she sloughed off her covers and pulled herself out of bed. It really was cold, colder than she had expected, and she shivered a bit as she stumbled across the floor towards the door opposite her. The pain didn’t abate, either, which added to the mystery of what had happened after Applejack dragged her off.
Applejack had grabbed her wrist, and…
And…
The door was unlocked. Pulling it open, Ember staggered down the hall, tail dragging along the floor and peeked her head into the main room. Applejack stood over by the stove, mouth wrapped around a panholder, which she was using to bite down on a panhandle. With surprising grace, a pancake seemed to lift itself skyward, tumble neatly end over end and land other-side up with a satisfying sizzle.
“Uh…”
Applejack looked over at Ember, and abruptly Ember realized exactly why she felt uncomfortable.
“Applejack, I…”
“G’morning, Ember. Somethin’ wrong?”
Ember’s tail lashed. “Bathroom.”
With a smirk, Applejack nodded her head to the side. “To your right.”
Ember yanked the door open, threw herself inside and slammed the door shut again.
By the time Ember staggered out again, Applejack was laying down a second plate full of pancakes on the dining table. The pancakes on one plate were riddled with colorful, glittering shards, and Ember took a seat by that plate without question.
“Do I want to know how much cider we went through yesterday?” Ember groaned, grabbing at a fork.
“Depends on if you’d find it impressive or embarrassin’.” Applejack sat down by the other plate and reached for a jar of apple jam. “Y’know, I was about a minute away from buckin’ the door open an’ waking you up myself. You’re a sleepy lil’ lizard.”
“Compared to who? Spike?” Ember waited until Applejack was done with the jam jar before grabbing it. “The little softie keeps pony hours and we know it. Try talking to my would-be contender to the throne, assuming you can wake him up before the sun sets.”
“Or I break out the pan an’ a wooden spoon and start havin’ myself a lil’ bit of drumming practice.” Applejack arched an eyebrow, grinning playfully. “Right next to his head.”
“You’d make him cranky for weeks.” Ember spooned out a huge scoop of apple jam onto her pancakes and slathered it on them with her butter knife. “Please do. I love the thought.”
The two of them tucked into their pancakes, and Ember didn’t pick up the conversation again until she had cleared her plate.
“So, uh…these are really good.” Ember pointed at Applejack’s half-emptied plate for emphasis. “How’d you learn to cook with gems? Farmer’s intuition, or practice?”
Applejack’s eyebrow came up again. “ ‘Farmer’s intuition?’ Really?”
“Look, I’m genuinely surprised by how delicious they were. And you’re pretty full of surprises in general, so I dunno, maybe this is some kind of earth pony magic at work?”
Applejack snorted, giggling and leaning over a little, letting her hat slide slightly askew. “Earth pony m…Oh, ya big silly lizard, you crack me up sometimes!”
“Just practice, then? But who—”
“Spike!”
“Oh, right.” Ember’s tail flicked. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“The lil’ guy was a big help. I used to burn ‘em all the time, just couldn’t get th’ hang of it. Which I s’pose makes sense when you’re tryin’ to cook rocks an’ batter at the same time. Took a while!” Applejack clinked the tines of her fork against her plate as she cocked her head to the side. “Did it taste like it was worth it?”
“I’m so, so tempted to pretend it’s awful just to see your reaction.” A little cloud of smoke puffed out of Ember’s nostrils in amusement. “But I know you’d take it personally anyway. So…yeah? Best thing I’ve had in months, honestly. Except for the cider! That was better.”
An awkward silence hung over the meal.
“So is there any—”
“Slow down, partner. At the rate we’re goin’, we ain’t gonna have any left before dinner tonight. Besides, didn’t anypony ever teach you that daydrinkin’ ain’t all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Drinking at all in the dragonlands isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“How come?”
Ember pointed her fork at Applejack. “Have you ever tried any beer that’s come out of the dragonlands?”
“Can’t say I have, no.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
Applejack snorted, chuckling. “An’ I suppose you aren’t gonna offer a cross-cultural exchange on that front?”
“I think you can do better things with your tongue than cutting it out just to get rid of the unspeakable taste. And that’s assuming you can keep it in your stomach for more than five minutes.”
Applejack chuckled louder, leaning back in her seat and readjusting her hat. “I s’pose I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Yeah…”
Silence. As seconds passed, Applejack’s grin fell into a smaller, sadder smile. “I don’t s’pose there’s any chance I could see it for myself, is there?”
Ember sighed. “Not anytime soon. We—”
“Talked about it, I know. I know. Jes’...checkin.”
“Fair.” Ember pointed her fork at Applejack’s plate. “You really should finish those, or I’m gonna have to steal them from you, gems or no.”
Abruptly, the pall over the conversation lifted, and Applejack’s face slid back into a grin. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Wasn’t I just saying they were too good for me to pretend otherwise?” Ember poked her tongue out at Applejack. “And your jam just makes it even better. Honest take?”
“Sure.”
“I, uh…” Ember blushed faintly. “I wouldn’t mind eating like this for the rest of my life.”
Applejack’s cheeks coloured in turn. “Y’mean, the food?”
“Yeah.”
Silence fell, and tension rose. This time, however, it wasn’t sadness that filled the air between them.
“...There’s a place I want us t’go to this afternoon, if that’s okay. Figure you’d like it. Grassy clearing, no muck, no brush. Took care of all that a few days ago.” Applejack rested a hoof on the table and looked down at her plate. “...Figured it’d be nice to spend a lil’ time there.”
“I’d like that.”
Applejack’s head snapped up. “I-I mean, you…”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. And I’d like that.”
“A-alright. Got it. So, uh…yeah. But…” Clearly at a loss for words, Applejack gestured wildly at the air.
“Heck, you wanna go now?” Ember stood up, and Applejack almost keeled over backwards in her chair.
“N-now? I-I mean…I said this afternoon, right?” Applejack said, red-faced. “ ‘Cause I want it to warm up a little, an’ all that. It’s…you ain’t noticed it’s cold in here?”
Ember raised a talon, appearing ready to object to Applejack’s argument, before—as Applejack’s words sunk in—lowering her talon again and pensively rubbing her chin. “That’s actually a good point. No offense, but it was honestly pretty cold when I got up this morning, and…” Ember gave the air an experimental sniff. “Still cold. Probably even colder outside. Got any ideas on how to warm things up, or…?”
“Got a fireplace.”
“Like heck you do.”
Applejack pointed a hoof at a wall on one side of the room. Ember followed her gaze, saw the fireplace and—after turning back around—saw Applejack sporting a punchably cheeky grin.
“...How?”
“Structural engineerin’ knowledge. A little bit of studyin’. Twi helped me out with some of the fundamentals of heat distribution an’ all that. An’ a whole lot of elbow grease. An’ you know what?” Applejack’s grin grew even cheekier. “It was worth it all to see the look on your face right now.”
“I’m not—I don’t have a look on my face!”
“Sure you don’t, sugarcube.”
“I don’t!”
“Whatever you say, sugarcube.”
“Don’t ‘sugarcube’ me, you smug—also, how in Equestria do you think this is a good idea? At all?” Ember gestured at the fireplace. “This is a wood building! It’s gonna catch on fire in, like, five minutes!”
“It’s a stone fireplace, hon.” Applejack quirked an eyebrow. “Stone. Stone don’t catch fire. An’ the surface area-to-volume ratio, thank ya kindly for the term Twilight, means that thicker logs as an outside surface actually catch fire less often than your average frou-frou—”
“You know what catches fire even less? A stone house!” Ember spread her arms exasperatedly. “You could have—”
“There’s how much stone ‘round here, exactly?”
Ember paused. Applejack’s grin was reaching revolutionary levels of cheekiness, which would have been impressive were it not so irredeemably infuriating.
“...This still seems dangerous.”
“Any more dangerous than havin’ a temperamental an’ frequently-inebriated dragon wanderin’ around the place?”
Ember huffed, smoke puffing out of her nostrils. “...You’re not wrong, but I still resent you for saying that.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” Applejack slid out of her chair and headed towards the door. “Lemme go get the firewood real quick, an’—”
“—and I’m coming with you. I can carry wood, and many claws make light work.”
For a moment, Applejack looked ready to object. Then, thinking better of it, she nodded. “Fair ‘nuff. C’mon, it’s just out back.”
The warmer cabin air washed over Ember’s scales as she staggered inside the front door holding a small pyramid of logs. With a small sigh, Ember set the log pile down next to the fireplace and gave her claws a little shake. “Think that should be enough?”
“More’n plenty, I reckon.” Applejack dislodged her hat with a sharp shake of her head, then trotted over to the other side of the fireplace, bent forward and lowered her head. The logs that she had balanced on her back rolled off easily, landing with a small series of thumps on the floor, until Applejack stepped away from her freshly dislodged log pile and brushed a chunk of cruft out of her mane. “Depends on how long you want to keep the fire going.”
“You’re asking a dragon how much she likes fire?” Ember snorted in amusement, walking over to one of Applejack’s dislodged logs and wedging it in the fireplace.
“Actually, ah…would you mind gettin’ the kindling for this instead?” Applejack scratched the back of her head, then pulled an errant twig out of her mane. “I can be a lil’ particular ‘bout how these get arranged.”
“Oh. Sure.” Ember stood up and stretched. “Want me to use my claws, or…?”
“Should be a shovel near the woodpile. Jes’ scoop up a buncha twigs an’ leaves an’ whatever else seems good. You can bring the whole dang shovel back in an’ just dump it on top when you’re done.”
“Shovel. Got it.” Ember stretched, headed for the door and slipped outside. Once again, the chill bit through her scales; once again, she ignored it completely as she hooked a corner around the cabin and headed for the log pile.
The sky was still grey, and that—unlike the chill—kind of ticked her off. There wasn’t any reason she should be, since weather was weather and that couldn’t really be helped, but…it felt weighty. Heavy. Vaguely oppressive. The opposite of…
Ember grabbed the shovel, then paused. What was it the opposite of? She could always just say sentiment again, but she didn’t want to just brush it all aside. Not now that she had a moment to think, without being around Applejack or flying or the absolute mess that the dragonlands were going to be in when she got back. Not when she could just…
Ember leaned back against the somewhat diminished log pile and looked up at the trees, towering and solid, beating back the empty sky with their last vestiges of summer and brilliant heralds of winter. The changing of the seasons was inevitable, and always would be, and there wasn’t anything she could do about that.
The sooner she accepted that, the better she would be for it. She knew she wasn’t the only one struggling with that, of course, but Ember didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
But at least there was the here and now. And even with grey skies, she could still enjoy the trees as they were, and the rich autumn air as it was. And so, for a few seconds, Ember let her eyes glaze over and thought of warmer summers, richer springs and green leaves.
Balancing the shovel in one claw and working the door handle in the other, Ember pushed the door open. “AJ? I’m back.”
Silence. Ember turned towards the fireplace. Applejack was sitting near the remains of the log pile, hoof resting on one of the logs on a sturdy and somewhat complex-looking log pyramid in the fireplace, not saying anything.
Ember moved her other claw back to the shovel and, with a soft huff, walked over to the fireplace, upended the shovel and poured a hefty amount of leaves and kindling over the pyramid. “Wakey-wakey, spacepony.”
“Ah!” Applejack scooted back, blinking. “Ember! What in tarnation…?”
“It’s not like I didn’t call your name, you know.” Ember flipped the shovel over and placed it next to the door, leaning up against the wall. “You were all kinds of zoned out in there. Didn’t know piling a few logs on top of each other took so much brainpower. Should I have been taking notes?”
Applejack snorted and stood up. “Ha ha ha, very funny. Now, if you’ll ‘scuse me for a bit, I’ll just get the matches—”
Ember glanced at the log pile and opened her mouth. A gout of flame erupted from her jaws, bathing the pile in flames, and within seconds the unkindled fuel turned into a crackling fireplace.
“—Ooooor you could just do that” Applejack finished, sitting down again.
“Dragon? Helloooooo?” Ember sauntered over and sat down next to Applejack. “Did you just, like, spontaneously forget what dragons are, or something?”
Applejack rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Wouldn’t have been polite to just ask, Sugarcube. I appreciate the help, though.”
“Ugh. Polite this, polite that…again, I guess it’d be worse if all you ponies acted like my would-be throne rival, but you really gotta learn that asking for help with the small things is okay.”
Applejack’s ears drooped. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just…ugh. If I didn’t think this was just how you all genuinely felt, I’d be way more annoyed by this, but still.” Ember reached over and toggled one of Applejack’s ears. “You’re all too nice for your own good. I’m surprised it hasn’t bit you in the backside more often.”
“Aw, c’mon, we ain’t that schmaltzy. We’re perfectly capable of fightin’ amongst ourselves, y’know.”
Ember arched an eyebrow. “Like dragons?”
“Well—”
“Like griffons?”
“Okay, but—”
“Like yaks to non-yaks—”
“Okay! Okay! Point taken!” Applejack’s tail swished. “But so help me, if you try an’ put my mane in a bow or somethin’ else cutesy, I’ll make you regret—”
Ember leaned over and kissed Applejack’s cheek. Applejack blushed bright red, mouth hanging open, words abruptly stifled by the gesture.
“Mmm? What are you gonna make me regret, AJ?” Ember replied in a singsong voice, pulling her head back. “Are you gonna be a big, nasty pony, now?”
“Aw, hush.” Applejack muttered. “Ain’t fair when you do that.”
Ember peered at Applejack’s mane. “Y’know, funny I said all that, but—”
“Don’t you dare try an’ put my mane in a bow!”
“I wasn’t gonna.” Ember pointed a talon at Applejack’s mane. “But you’ve still got some bark and other junk in there. Want me to pick it out for you?”
“Eh?” Applejack reached up with her hoof and felt around in her mane. “...Consarn it, guess I do. Guess I should—”
“Ahem.”
Applejack caught Ember’s smug expression. “...Alright, fine. Could you get the rest of the cruft outta my mane, sugarcube?”
“With pleasure.” Ember scooted behind Applejack, running her talons through Applejack’s mane. “Ooooh. I still love the feel of this stuff, you know. Guess I’ll be at this for a while.”
Applejack didn’t say anything, but the swishing of her tail conveyed her feelings about the situation well enough. Slowly, Ember began her impromptu combing session, casually dislodging small twigs and setting them aside as she ran her talons through Applejack’s mane over and over again.
Half a minute passed in silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire, before Ember spoke up again. “You know, I know I only mentioned it a bit last night, but…”
“Yeah?”
“Ponies are really big on singing and musical numbers, right? Not just the pink one?”
“...yeah?”
“What about dancing?” Ember gently unwove a stubborn-looking knot. “I figured that’d be pretty ponylike, too, but as far as I know it hasn’t come up.”
“It does. Ponies aren’t as big on dance numbers, though. ‘Asides, dances for four-legged critters are different from dances with two-legged ones. You can’t really mix an’ match, so it doesn’t always cross over with other creatures.”
“I’m sure they could work out some compromise.”
Applejack arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t figure you for a dance enthusiast, Ember. This somethin’ you wanted to try, or…?”
“Me? Nah. I mean, I’m curious enough that I’m not gonna say never, but for now? Pass.”
“Fair enough.”
Another half-minute passed in silence.
“So, uh…” Ember started up again. “You were kind of intense about staring at the fireplace when I walked in.”
“Mmm?”
“Yeah. I was just…” Ember paused. “I mean, obviously you were lost in thought, but…what’s on your mind?”
“Oh.” Applejack’s voice was rather quiet. “It’s, uh. Jes’ silly stuff, really.”
“I like silly.”
“Pinkie Pie levels of silly?”
Ember froze. “That’s the name of the pink friend of yours? Anyways, uh - noooooo. No thanks. Not that silly. Please tell me your thoughts aren’t that silly.”
Applejack chuckled, shifting her weight a bit. “Can’t say they were. Not that they didn’t involve her! Jes’...thinkin’ bout a party that seemed like it was forever ago.”
Ember paused, talons still interwoven with Applejack’s mane. “A party, huh?”
“Yeah. A party right after Winter Wrap-up. Comemmoratin’ spring an’ all, right? Where the sky was blue enough to drown in an’ the sun felt like it could melt even the coldest stallion’s heart.”
“Hm.” Ember’s wings relaxed, unfurling slightly. “Spring, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“The sort of party you could meet new folks at?”
Applejack leaned back a bit, tilting her head towards Ember. “The sort with wild queens with fiery tempers.”
Ember grinned, tapping a talon on Applejack’s cheek. “And exuberant farmers with big hats.”
Applejack grinned. “An’ cider. Folks seemed to appreciate that.”
“Can’t think of a single creature who wouldn’t!” Ember traced a gentle circle into Applejack’s cheek, making a low noise in her throat not unlike a cat’s purr. “I bet you could find good conversation there, too.”
“Like about the trials an’ tribulations of trying to keep a whole dang country together?”
“Or a farm!” Ember snorted playfully. “And the fifty different chores you needed to get through every day to keep the whole place from falling apart.”
Applejack gestured vaguely at the fireplace. “About folks who weren’t ever grateful for all the hard work you did.”
“Or who thought that you didn’t get frustrated with the things you were born to do.”
“Who didn’t understand that just because you’re loyal to your job…”
“...Doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes wish that it never happened, or that there would be more to it all than just being your profession.”
The fire crackled, flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. Neither Ember nor Applejack paid it any sort of attention whatsoever.
Ember started again. “So then you think about all those times when you'd talk, and talk, and talk…”
Applejack smiled wistfully. “At an amusement park…”
Ember’s catlike purr returned. “...and a buckball game…”
“And that one awful formal gala.” Applejack blanched. “The kind you tell yourself you’ll never do ever again.”
“But then you wind up holding claws, or hooves…” Ember took her claw off of Applejack’s cheek, slid it down her foreleg and squeezed her hoof. “And suddenly the whole thing doesn’t seem that bad after all.”
“An’ holding hooves turns to spendin’ nights together, an…” Applejack paused, then flipped over and scooted up on top of Ember’s lap, chest to chest, face to face.
Ember grinned. “Yeah?”
“An’ I think I’m gonna kiss you now” Applejack said matter-of-factly. “An’ I don’t know when ah’m gonna stop.”
“What if the cabin catches on fire and burns to the ground? If I die, I’m haunting your corpse.” Ember stuck her tongue out at Applejack. “Bleh.”
Applejack caught Ember’s tongue with her mouth, and the conversation guttered and died even as the flames in the fireplace roared to life.
The cabin, despite the subsequent passing of many inattentive minutes, did not burn down.