Both foals fell over with a cry, Applejack backwards onto her rump and the colt rather more heavily onto his side. Neither found the experience particularly enjoyable, although they both reacted rather differently to finding themselves no longer upright.
“Hey!” cried the colt in a rather high voice as he clambered to his hooves again. Applejack clutched her sore muzzle with her hooves, eyes tearing up slightly as the older colt stomped over to her.
“Why dontcha watch where yer goin’, huh?” he continued angrily as he stood over Applejack, glaring down at her. Little Macintosh, recently turned eight though large enough to be two years older, did not take kindly to apparent clumsiness from anypony. Despite his young age he was normally very calm and collected, but tended to lose his temper with others if they didn't display similar behaviour.
Applejack bore the full force of his youthful wrath with all the self-control one might expect of a five-year-old, and began to cry. It wasn’t her fault! She didn’t know that he would be there! But now he was yelling at her even though it was her birthday, and her nose really hurt… she wanted her daddy…
“H-hey, don’t cry…” Little Macintosh hadn’t really expected the filly to burst into tears like that, and he instantly regretted his harsh words when she did.
“Ah’m sorry, Ah didn’t mean to make ya cry or nothin’…” He half extended a hoof to Applejack then stopped, unsure of whether he should really be the one to comfort her after being the one to make her sad in the first place. Macintosh looked around in a slight panic, but no inspiration was offered from the surrounding apple trees, which remained as silent as ever. He looked back at Applejack, who was still crying although not as hard, and swallowed once before reaching out fully and lightly touching her shoulder. Applejack flinched back slightly at the contact and looked up at him.
Her shining eyes met his own, and both noticed they had the same green colour. In an instant something passed between the two, something that neither could understand nor describe with their youthful inexperience of worldly ways. Unable to comprehend the feeling the two just kept staring at each other, possibly for a few minutes, until a female voice called out from the orchard nearby and broke their reverie.
“Macintosh? Little Macintosh? Where are you, honey?” A beautiful mare trotted into view and looked about her for her foal. Her dark pink coat glistened in the sunlight as testament to a long morning’s work in the orchard, and her blonde-streaked green mane and tail swished around in the breeze. A red apple set on a chequered picnic blanket adorned her flank, and as she walked the blanket seemed to flutter beneath the apple.
“Aha! There you are! Ah’ve been lookin’ all over for ya, sweetie, where’d ya run off to in such a hurry?” She lightly trotted up behind Macintosh and nuzzled his head gently before noticing Applejack, who was still sitting on the ground and holding her muzzle.
“Oh my! Are you ok, sweetie? What happened, Macintosh?”
“She ran into me, Mama! Knocked us both over!”
“Oh dear, you’re not hurt are you?” she asked quickly, checking his side where he rubbed it in the worried way that a mother will do in such circumstances.
“Nah, Ah’m ok. Ah think she’s more hurt’n Ah am.” The colt looked away and kicked at the ground in embarrassment before admitting: “Ah kinda shouted at her, though…”
“Macintosh! What have Ah told you about controllin’ yer temper?” His mother quickly switched from checking him to Applejack, gently moving aside the filly’s hooves to examine her nose whilst she remonstrated with her son.
“M’sorry, Mama…” He did indeed look very sorry, but…
“Apologisin’ to me ain’t no good, young man. Ah hope you’ve said sorry to this little filly here too?” He gulped and nodded, and Applejack lightly nodded as well.
“Alright then.” The colt’s mother focused her attention on the filly for the time being, wondering who this little foal could belong to, and what she was doing in Mrs Smith’s orchard in the first place. Nopony else who worked here had any foals that she knew of; perhaps she came from nearby Ponyville? The ready availability of juicy apples had been more than exploited by mischievous young foals over the years, but this filly did look rather young for that.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Ap…Applejack…” she answered with a slight sniffle.
“Applejack, huh? My, now that’s a lovely name!” The mare smiled sweetly and Applejack smiled a little in response.
“My name’s Pink Pearl, it’s very nice to meet you!” Pink Pearl took Applejack’s hoof lightly in her own and shook it, prompting a giggle from the filly.
“And how are you, Applejack? Did you hurt yourself when you ran into Macintosh?”
“Uh huh…” she answered quietly, looking away in embarrassment.
“On the nose?”
“Uh huh…”
“Anywhere else?”
“N-no…”
“Ok then, Applejack,” Pearl said, keeping up what limited momentum their conversation had, “how’d ya get here?” With any luck this would give a greater-than-one-word answer, and so it proved.
“Mah Daddy brought me here t’see Granny Smith ‘cos it’s mah birthday, n’she said there would be a surprise nearby so Ah ran here but then Ah ran into… Macintosh?” His name was spoken as a question and accompanied by a look in his direction. Macintosh smiled and nodded, clearly trying extra hard to be friendly in light of his earlier telling off.
Wait a minute. Granny Smith? Was Applejack Mrs Smith’s granddaughter? Now that Pearl stopped to think, the filly’s name did ring a bell. In conversation with her employer, the older green mare often mentioned her son and his daughter. In fact, Pearl had been regularly teased by Mrs Smith trying to set her up with Redstreak (at least that’s what she thought his name was), who from her descriptions certainly did sound like quite a slice of stallion. Fortunately/unfortunately, a meeting between the two had proved impossible before now, so Pearl had only been able to speculate just how much mother’s bias had been applied to Redstreak’s virtues.
Now seemed like the perfect opportunity to see how accurate her speculations were…
Hold on, no! That could wait, now she had to make sure Applejack was brought to her family!
“O-ok then, Applejack…” Pearl began again, confusing both foals with her sudden flustered state, “Ah think it’d be a good idea to getcha back t’yer daddy. How’s that sound?” The effect was immediate, as Applejack brightened up considerably. Go back to Daddy? This did indeed sound like an excellent idea!
“Ok!” See?
The orange filly sprang to her hooves in an instant and started galloping towards the farmhouse as fast as her tiny legs could carry her.
“Race ya there!” Macintosh’s ears perked up instantly at the issue of a challenge, and he too was off like a little scarlet bullet. Pink Pearl was left standing in their proverbial dust, smiling at the sound of foalish laughter as she assumed a more sedate pace behind them and marvelling at how well foals could get along after such a little amount of time. As she passed the last apple tree before Sweet Apple Acres’ large farmhouse, Pearl thought about something Applejack had said.
Her grandmother had told her a surprise was in the orchard. Had she meant Little Macintosh? The surprise was a new friend? That seemed a little too sweet to be the whole story. More likely the crafty old mare meant for their foals to meet as a way of getting Pearl and Redstreak to meet as well. The notion made Pearl laugh good naturedly, before she swallowed and realised she felt quite nervous all of a sudden. A lack of romantic male company since she lost Macintosh’s father had made her both desire and dread the prospect of more in equal amounts. She wasn’t quite sure she was ready, but neither was she certain it would definitely be a bad idea.
And then Applejack’s father trotted outside, with Mrs Smith following behind, and as he scooped up his giggling daughter Pink Pearl made a realisation, followed by a decision. Firstly, she realised that Mrs Smith’s descriptions of her son had been, if anything, rather modest. Redstreak (Pearl was sure now that was his name) had to be one of the largest stallions she had ever laid eyes upon, and was certainly the most well-built. His handsome red coat was a similar shade to her Little Macintosh’s, his short-cut mane a little darker than Applejack’s. And secondly, she decided that this stallion would be hers.
In a similar experience to that which had occurred between the two foals mere moments before she had come across them, although aided by the maturity of adulthood, Pink Pearl felt something stir within her at the sight of Redstreak. It was only a little feeling, and had she not been paying attention she might have missed it, but it was unmistakable and definitely there. A sense of connection, of belonging, something deeper than what she felt towards anypony else even after years of acquaintance. It was small now, but it could and should be nurtured into more. She was not one for rash decisions, but certain things require no consideration before action is taken.
Pink Pearl breathed in deeply to calm herself, and, being very careful to simply put one hoof in front of the other, she slowly walked towards her future.