It was usually possible to leave autumn outside the farmhouse.
Winter was different. Apple Bloom lived in one of Ponyville's oldest homes: something which didn't mean much when you compared it to Canterlot and just about every other settled zone on the continent, but... old enough. Older than her, at least: something which could make the entire world feel ancient. And it was a house which had been constructed by earth ponies. Any attempt at thermal sealing was a task for precisely-fitted planks, with magic politely requested to wait outside the door. And when a house got old enough, once some of the wood started to warp...
In winter, the house leaked. Not much -- but enough that it could be uncomfortable to stand near a window for too long, when there was chill radiating from the glass. There were times when Apple Bloom had to bring a warming pan into bed, and few things were more awkward than trying to carry something that hot directly in front of your snout: the jaw grip was insulated, but her eyelashes usually felt as if they were going to start smoking. And Rainbow Dash had offered to use pegasus techniques on the farmhouse, keep some more of the heat inside where it belonged, but Applejack didn't want to rely on a system which she couldn't personally recharge. And when it came to placing the magic into something inanimate, an enchanted wonder which might draw its replacement thaums from the air... the weather coordinator apparently had a certain reputation.
Winter tried to follow you, waited for a chance to steal away the heat which came from flesh and fur. But it was usually possible to close the door on autumn. Sun's light streamed through windows which got cleaned just a little too often for comfort (especially when you were the filly who had to clean them), and having the wind blocked off meant getting all of the warmth without any of the chill.
The scents of the season were mostly associated with the Acres themselves: a crisp sweetness tended to permeate the atmosphere around the trees. Because there were a lot of leaves, just about every last one of them died when the trunks began to enter their silent slumber, and once the tiny corpses began to litter the ground... they decayed. There was some natural sugar in a leaf, and when that started to break down...
Spring and summer on the Acres were filled with the scents of life. Autumn on farming land meant Apple Bloom had to live at the center of a massive graveyard, and it made the air crisp and sweet.
Apple Bloom was a little older now. Wiser, or... at least she hoped to be. She was capable of looking back on her life. And she knew that there must have been a time when autumn had simply meant that there was a little more in the way of heated food and warm drinks, accompanied by a major upstep in the number of leaf piles available for jumping into. Or hiding within. She knew she'd spent at least one afternoon in giggling at the center of a mound, waiting to be found. And that had turned out to be a really bad idea, because it had taken a little too long before anypony had gone looking: enough for a very young filly (just past foal) to start wondering if anypony cared enough to search at all. So giggling had gone silent, transmuted into a soft weeping, that was what they'd heard, and...
Also, you got insects in leaf piles. A lot of them. The woolly caterpillars and pillbugs had been easy enough to extract from her fur, but it had taken over an hour to get rid of all the ticks.
(It wasn't necessarily a memory she wanted to have: focusing on a youthful past from an increasing age seemed to bring equally-increasing embarrassment. But there wasn't much of a selection available.)
The scents of the season were mostly associated with the outside. You could usually leave autumn at the door. But when you came into the farmhouse before Homecoming, with so much emanating from the kitchen... the same dishes every year, across all of the years, and every waft of air which touched your snout seemed to go directly into the brain and pushed you back in time...
Even if Babs hadn't been at the train station, being sent off the Acres would have still been the highlight of the day. Return and on this day, autumn would follow you. The season, the holiday, and everything which came with them.
Apple Bloom hated Homecoming. Hated how she was the only one who had to pause before going inside, because her siblings just stepped into the warm miasma as if it was all normal. Scootaloo had the excuse of not knowing enough to be offended, but her brother and sister should have remembered. Should have hesitated, if only for an instant.
And there must have been a time of innocence when she hadn't felt that way, when it was just a larger dinner than usual and an oddly-sleepy filly being carried to bed by the nape of her neck, too weighed down by warmth and dessert to protest, but... she couldn't remember it...
...a canine head lifted away from a tight curl of life as she entered, and warm dark eyes regarded her. The lightly-fringed tail wagged.
Applejack and Mac went past the dog, headed towards the kitchen because there was one more pony in the family who needed to be told what was going on and her hearing wasn't the best. And it had started as a good day for Granny Smith, but Apple Bloom had been away for a few hours and there had been plenty of opportunities to have it turn into a bad one --
-- Babs, who didn't know, who hadn't been there for any of it, simply came directly into the sitting room, then executed a complicated sort of shrug. It ended with saddlebags deposited to the floor.
"Hey, Winona!" her cousin called out, and the wagging became a little more uncertain. Apple Bloom was certain that the canine remembered Babs, or at least recalled her scent. But the Manehattanite hadn't spent a lot of time with the family companion during either of the previous visits, and now Babs was going straight towards her --
-- the heavyset body dropped down. (Several pictures and knickknacks indulged in small leaps.) She moved in --
-- it only lasted for a few seconds. And then she snorted, puffed a little air into her mane, and watched the dog go into the kitchen.
(There was an indistinct babble coming out of the preparation area now. Apple Bloom knew Granny was part of it, but she couldn't make out the words. However, when it came to emotional tone, the mix seemed to call for two parts confusion to one part surprise and a major dusting of worry.)
"She ain't much of a cuddler, is she?" Babs observed, watching the tip of Winona's tail vanish past the edge of the door frame.
"She's a workin' dog," Apple Bloom said. "She usually don't stay still for long unless she's exhausted or asleep. Always lookin' for somethin' t' do." Which could actually be a problem with border collies. The breed often came across as the canine equivalent of Applejack: they needed to work -- and if there wasn't enough activity available, they would make some. "Good news is that she didn't try t' herd you. Sometimes, when we don't wear her out enough --"
"-- cats are better," her cousin decided, and made that announcement just as Scootaloo crossed the threshold. (The pegasus shut the door behind her. At least Scootaloo could remember to shut a door.)
Both of the local fillies blinked.
"...they are?" Scootaloo didn't quite ask.
"Yeah," Babs declared. "I should know. I've got a cat."
We really didn't get t' talk much before this, did we?
"Y'do?" emerged as the verbal end of that.
"Cats are smart," the visitor stated, frustrated gaze focused on the empty doorway. "Bianca's smarter than some of the ponies I go to school with. She's sure smarter than the average dobbin. A cat pays attention, all the time. So they know when stuff's going on. And they stick around. Share the bed. Cuddle. Because they know you need them around."
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo looked at each other. Kept looking, because very few ponies chose cats as companions. The majority of the population just wasn't comfortable in living with an open, prideful predator -- especially one who kept bringing in little still-bleeding gifts because the pony was clearly too stupid to hunt for themselves. It meant their central experience with the species was Opal. There was a certain silent agreement that any filly who tried to cuddle their body against Opal was going to wind up pulling back a little less body than they'd started with.
The youngest Malus thought about Opal. Which led to thinking about Sweetie.
She tried to stop. It didn't work.
"Bianca pays attention," Babs semi-repeated. "Sometimes, she's..." Stopped. Took a breath, and glared at the open door. "Dogs are good enough, I guess. And maybe some of them cuddle. Just not Winona." Hooves pushed against the floor, and she started to stand up. "I'll take my saddlebags up and unpack. But I've gotta go get rid of the train first."
"Washin' up?" Apple Bloom theorized.
"For starters," Babs admitted. "But train food is lousy -- well, maybe not all of it, but anything the dobbins paid into the ticket wasn't worth it. And there's stuff you just can't do on a train. Not unless you're getting off right after." And then she snickered. "So I'm just gonna go put a dent in the toilet trench. See you in a few!"
And without looking at the other two, she took up the saddlebag straps in her mouth and headed for the ramp, leaving the shock behind.
It turned out to be more than 'a few'. In Apple Bloom's opinion, Babs wound up staying in the bathroom for far too long. Several concerning questions about train cuisine were raised, initially tabled and then, because there seemed to be plenty of time for it, brought into open debate and eventually dragged through the deep realms of culinary horror. Apple Bloom's end of the argument started with theory and quickly moved towards pure imagination, because just about all of her train experience was in relatively short jaunts to Canterlot --
Babs lives on the east coast, Scootaloo wasn't even born in Equestria, an' Ah've hardly ever been anywhere
-- for school trips supervised by Miss Cheerilee, and Applejack always tried to send plenty of snacks along.
But then Apple Bloom was called in to stir a few pots. After that, there were chores to do, because autumn wasn't winter and the Acres weren't quite at rest just yet. She had to go out to the tenant-hosting portions of the land and check on a few things, there was a brief argument with a pig because having been in the kitchen meant she smelled like food and the pig wanted to know why they weren't getting all of it, she came back to the farmhouse and Babs was still in the bathroom.
It begged a few questions, and a fast hoof knock on the closed door settled the one about medical emergencies.
Ah don't get it. Scootaloo ties up the whole thing for too long 'cause she spent all that time... alone. Might as well stay in there for hours, 'cause ain't nopony who needs it after you're done. But Babs lives with her parents.
Two of 'em.
An'... don't she have a sister?
Hadn't that been mentioned, just before Babs had returned home for the first time? That her cousin was going to bring up the bullying to an older sibling? Apple Bloom was sure Babs had a big sister, and those were nature's perfect mirror hogs. especially before a date. But...
...Ah didn't see her sister at the reunion. Least, nopony pointed her out t' me, an' Babs sure didn't.
Have Ah ever met...?
But that was when Babs had come down, and all had been silently explained with a single look. Her cousin had been experimenting with mane and tail. There wasn't much to work with, not as short as Babs's cuts were, but -- it was possible to add a little bit of wave, try a few things to bring out that much more of the natural highlights. Add that to the fur grooming, and Babs almost looked like a different pony.
A different, rather hungry pony. And since it was dinnertime...
It turned out to just be the six of them. (Apple Bloom knew what the pre-Babs holiday guest list looked like, and her theory was that Rainbow Dash was saving up some internal space for the next day.) And there wasn't a lot of talk around the table. Plenty of eating, because Babs was hungry and Scootaloo's body was currently running the kind of internal engine which made trains look like they were on starvation diets. But when it came to talk...
Apple Bloom knew her sister. She was perfectly aware that Honesty didn't mean Applejack had to say everything, along with the fact that there were too many times when it felt as if her sibling said nothing at all --
-- y'didn't tell me --
-- and that made it easy to pick up on when the older Malus was holding words back. There were a few light inquiries made of Babs, but they were the sunken foundation stones of talking to kids: schoolwork and play. The sort of thing where you had to clean off a lot of dirt just to see if there was anything real underneath, and Applejack wasn't exactly doing any heavy excavating. You couldn't really ask Mac to contribute much into a conversation until a new presence had been around for a while, and Granny... just kept looking at Babs. A quiet regard, and it happened over and over. Something which made it impossible for Apple Bloom to tell if it came from the heart of a good day or a bad one.
They all ate. And then they had to clean up after dinner, there were a few more chores...
She couldn't sleep.
Again.
There was almost no light in her bedroom, not with a quarter-Moon hidden behind scheduled heavy night clouds. A little leak of illumination came from the door frame: something which suggested there was at least one adult awake in the house. That mostly served to give the space a few designated shadows, and two of them occupied extra beds.
Her bedroom was getting kind of crowded. The memories took up too much room.
The larger shadow was Babs. It breathed slowly, almost silently, and that didn't feel like it was quite what Apple Bloom was used to. But perhaps she was simply out of the habit. She'd spent a lot of time listening to Babs breathe in the dark. Staring at a dark ceiling, waiting for the exact moment when that breathing changed. Hoping for a precious second of warning.
Ah could've had a bed, the first time she was here.
All Ah had t' do was 'snitch' and say that she was in mine.
Didn't find where she put the one Mac brought in for her until two weeks after she left.
Babs... hadn't asked about the extra bed which had already been in place, any more than she'd questioned Scootaloo's possessions being in the room. She'd just claimed her space, and then she'd almost immediately gone to sleep. Apple Bloom's guess was that the travel had just worn her out. And Scootaloo had been sleeping a lot more than usual, because puberty took a lot of energy.
Apple Bloom wasn't staring at the ceiling. Sleeping on her back... that wasn't a natural position for a pony. She usually only wound up that way when she couldn't sleep at all, found herself twisting and turning in a desperate attempt to learn if there was some magical position which she just hadn't tried before. And even when she did find herself in the unnatural configuration... she was in her own bed this time. A canopy bed. It meant she was mostly staring at a dome of shadowed fabric.
Staring, and listening to Babs breathe.
Again.
Ah thought Ah was past this.
Ah couldn't tell Mac or AJ what was happenin'. Because that was 'snitchin'.' An' for some reason, that was supposed t' be wrong.
She put me out of mah own bed. An' every day, every time she was around me or us, she'd find somethin' t' do. Lots of stuff t' do on the Acres, always. Or t' do to the youngest pony there.
Ah had t' listen when she slept. 'cause that way, Ah'd know when she was 'bout t' wake up. Ah'd get a few seconds of warnin'. An' maybe if Ah was quick, Ah could get out of the room before it all started up again...
Ah was afraid t' sleep, with her in the room. Jus' in case she woke up first.
Lost hours of sleep. That's what happens, when you share a bedroom with your bully. Y'lose so much sleep that it gets hard t' do chores. Ah jus' stumbled around in a daze most of the time, because Ah wasn't sleepin' an' it was jus' gettin' hard t' think. An' after a few days, the thoughts Ah could still have got... strange.
Stuff like 'sabotagin' a float is a good idea'.
Babs' first visit had taught Apple Bloom a few vital things about herself. For starters, the filly had some vengeance in her heart. And there was a chance that she was a little too good at it.
Ah still feel like Ah care 'bout Babs.
It's a lot easier t' care 'bout her when she's a long way off.
Ah thought Ah was past this...
But her cousin was motionless. No harm was being planned, not even in dream. Just sleeping, and -- breathing. The sound was so soft...
The new shadow was curled up a little, with a small hollow at the center. Making room for something which wasn't there.
Maybe if Ah jus' move around a little.
Pretend Ah'm Winona. Jus' gotta wear mahself out.
Not that she could get outside and take a quick gallop. It was safe enough on the Acres at night, but autumn meant it was going to be cold. And any attempt to extract the necessary protection from the ground floor closet would require getting past whoever was still awake.
Ah can at least go out into the hallway. Pace a little. Somepony sees me, Ah needed the bathroom. If'fin Babs switches up her mane again tomorrow, gonna be a lot of ponies who need the bathroom. An' we've got more than the one, but there's gonna be guests...
Apple Bloom was fairly certain there was no mark for stealth. (Miss Twilight seemed to believe there was a suit for it, and the filly was pretty sure the adult was wrong.) But years of Crusading had given her some skill at quietly exiting the old bed.
She moved past the sleeping shadows. Blankets were jaw-pulled over wings exposed by restlessness. She found herself glancing at the larger mound of life more than she would have liked.
It took a few seconds to get the door open in a way which didn't produce noise, because getting out of the Crusade meant Apple Bloom had stopped dedicating quite so much time to lubricating the hinges. And then she was in the upper hallway, the light was streaming up from the lower level of the farmhouse...
Her bedroom door was no longer blocking sound. She could hear a soft snore coming through a partially-open doorway, just off to the right. Apple Bloom knew that snore by heart.
Granny's asleep.
It was a sound to which she gave close attention, because so much of her dreaded the night when it stopped.
So it's AJ or Mac down there. Could be both. Quiet right now, but --
"Can I see the letter?"
Her brother sounded tired. His voice always got a little deeper when he was tired...
"Want t' read it for yourself?" Applejack asked.
They're in the sittin' room. Definitely ain't gettin' out that way, if'fin it comes t' that --
-- wait.
The letter?
"Eyup." Which was followed by a sigh: something which, when it emerged from such a large body, always seemed a little too soft. "Just to see exactly what they said, AJ. The wording counts."
"Keep the reins on: Ah'll get it..."
Movement. Hooves on floorboards. Paper rustling.
They haven't heard me.
If Ah don't move too much, they won't --
"Not much here," Mac wearily said. "Just enough to get the basics across."
"Not much," Applejack agreed, and the youngest Malus heard a solid body plop back onto the couch. "Not much an' too much. At the same time."
"It's barely about Babs."
"Once y'take them out," Applejack darkly observed, "it's barely 'bout anythin' at all."
Apple Bloom froze.
They were talking about --
-- she wasn't completely sure. Not yet. But if it concerned the letter...
Can Ah get closer?
Kinda wish mah fur was a different color. This ain't fur designed for sneakin' close t' anypony. Maybe there ain't no stealth suits, but Miss Rights got the stealth fur...
She could hear well enough from where she was. There was no point in taking the risk.
"There's a pattern here," Applejack's open frustration observed. "When y'think it over."
"What are you seeing?" Mac asked.
"College colt don't know?" Only half a tease.
"Pretend you need to explain it," said her big brother. "Philosophy means more than most ponies believe, AJ. But I can only try to have your thoughts. I don't know what they actually are."
(The filly imagined a nod.)
"An' there's days," Applejack sighed, "when you're better off for it. Okay. The pattern? They don't deal with things, Mac. They push. Get it out of sight, an' maybe it'll resolve itself. The first time Babs came here, wasn't that their answer?" Shuffling against old cushions, with an audible compression of springs. "Ah... didn't think much 'bout that at the time. But now it's a pattern. They didn't try t' charge down her problem at the source. Jus' -- moved her away from it. An' unless she manifested while she was with us, the issue was still gonna be there when she got back."
"And if that did happen," Mac realized, "they would have missed it."
"Lots of parents do. Not always around when..." Applejack stopped. "Not always around."
Waiting.
"They would have missed the chance."
Silence, deep enough to hear the ancient clock ticking.
"Bullyin'," Applejack finally said. "Get her out of the area. Maybe it makes sense on the surface, but not deeper down. They pushed the problem away. An' now? They're pushin' her off again. It's the same answer. The same one, an' it doesn't work."
"I thought they were just too busy to attend the reunion," Mac slowly said. "It's not as if we ever get everypony. Too busy, so they sent her to represent the branch."
She never pointed a hoof at anypony an' said that was her sister.
Never brought me up to her folks.
It was jus' her.
Only her.
Alone.
"Or they pushed her out for a while." Volume dropped, and Apple Bloom's ears strained forward to catch what remained. "Ah was thinkin' durin' dinner. The train is days back an' forth. That first visit -- same as it was for the reunion. Different timin'. But it's autumn, Mac. The only way she's on the Acres for Homecomin' is for them t' pull her out of school. For nearly a couple of weeks. She's missin' classes an' friends an' everythin' else. Jus' so they can put her here for a couple of days."
"Pull her out of school," Mac slowly said, "or push?"
Granny snored. The clock ticked along. Somewhere behind Apple Bloom, Babs breathed, and did so in near-silence.
"Ah'm goin' t' bed," Applejack suddenly said. "Ah think Ah want t' deal with this under Sun. You?"
"Same."
Springs decompressed. Hooves began to repeatedly impact wood. Apple Bloom, trying to move as silently as she could, scrambled for her own door.
It didn't prevent her from hearing her sister's last words.
"They push it all away," Applejack stated. "Everythin'. An' now they're pushin' each other."