//------------------------------// // 5- Clouds (Part 2) // Story: Chasing the Sky // by SnowOriole //------------------------------// Applejack doesn’t feel great, when she gets home. Granted, she hasn’t felt great in a long time. That, at least, she can admit. Apple Bloom seems to pick up on this; she doesn’t say much all the while they were on the road back from her school, just grips onto her hand and silently stares the other way at trees or birds or whatever might capture her interest more than her curiosity. Applejack’s glad for it. After that earlier conversation, she really isn’t in the mood for answering questions, nor does she think it would’ve made her feel any better. Like Applejack always says to herself, though, not feeling great doesn’t mean the world stops spinning. After leaving Apple Bloom to her room, Applejack steps into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. There, she finds Big Mac standing behind the counter. She furrows her brows. “What are you doing here?” Big Mac reaches an arm forward and grabs an egg from the carton. “Helping.” Her eyes narrow as she steps around to the fridge, popping the door open. “I don’t need help.” “Eenope.” Big Mac agrees, but he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing as Applejack throws ingredients out onto the counter. “Did you get any sleep the night before?” “...Yeah?” Applejack isn’t so sure where this conversation is going. “But you haven’t been sleeping well,” Big Mac moves his elbow as a carton of milk goes on the counter. “There’s something bothering you.” Oh, so that’s what this is. An interrogation in disguise. Big Mac was clever to do it during dinner preparation so she can’t just leave, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t as subtle as a rock. Fight stubbornness with stubbornness—that’s the Apple family way. “I mean, shucks, of course there is. Flim and Flam keep stealin’ all our business,” Applejack says, lifting her head to look out the window. She senses Big Mac’s gaze following hers. From here, they can see Granny at the grass patch together with one of Carrot Top’s siblings, ringing a cow bell and hollering as they do their best to draw customers toward them. The crowd pays them no heed, joining the snaking queues in front of the S.S.C.S. 6000 instead. Their eyes are glued onto Flim and Flam as they twirl across a hoisted stage in ballet tutus, or something. Big Mac looks down and taps his egg on the side of the mixing bowl. The yellow yolk slips out from the shell’s fissure and plops silently into the bowl, all calm and quiet-like, unlike the tumult of emotions roiling in her gut. “Ain’t the first time we’ve dealt with competitors. The Pears bug us all year round.” “But this is different from the Pears,” Applejack gives a frustrated sigh. “The Flim Flams, they’re not just offerin’ discounts. They’re straight up givin’ out trip tickets to Cloudsdale, or as far as Las Pegasus—” “They’re lottery tickets, not trip tickets—” “But it’s workin’!” Applejack shuts the fridge with more force than necessary. She heaves a sigh and places her hands on the counter, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s an important time, an’ with the revenue drops I’m- I’m just worried sick that we won’t make it through the winter.” “We’ll make it through, just like we always have,” Big Mac says. He rests his whisk across the rim of the bowl and turns around to face her properly. “I’m more worried about you.” “About me?” Applejack raises her eyebrows. “What for?” “You haven’t been sleeping well. You look constantly tired and you snap at the slightest thing,” Big Mac exhales slowly. “Yer dealin’ with problems on yer lonesome again. Problems you ain’t tellin’ nobody.” Applejack stills. “We’ve had this same conversation before a thousand times, Mac. You’re overworking yourself, yada-yada-ya, you need a break. If I take a nap, will you leave me alone?” “You wouldn’t take the nap,” Big Mac states plainly, and he’s right, “and even if you did, no.” Brothers. Christ. Groaning, she takes up Big Mac’s abandoned whisk into her own hands and resumes beating the eggs. Big Mac, evidently seeing no reasoning with her, picks up her ingredients and moves for the stovetop. Applejack pays him no mind, just keeps focusing on the eggs swirling about in the bowl, most certainly over-beaten by now. The eggs, the eggs, the eggs- “Yer gonna add that to the eggs?” Big Mac’s voice interrupts. Applejack looks down at the pepper shaker in her hands. Except, it’s not a pepper shaker, but a jar of jellybeans. She doesn't know since when she'd had jellybeans in her kitchen, nor how they got there, nor how she could've mistaken it for pepper. She looks to her brother, back at her hands, and then sets the jar down to close her eyes. “...I’m losing it, aren’t I.” Big Mac eyes her. “And you still don’t want to talk about it?” “Okay, fine. Fine,” Applejack surrenders. "I had a fight with a friend. See? T’ain’t no big deal." "What did you fight about?" “It’s… well, it’s a really long story.” “Doesn’t seem like such a ‘small deal’, then.” What had Applejack said about brothers? She pinches the bridge of her nose, “As I was sayin’. We were fighting… well, not really actual fighting, but Rainbow was mad at me because I’d been, maybe, kinda, sorta ignoring her.” “Why? Did Rainbow Dash do somethin’?” Big Mac’s gaze darkens. “No, no, get that scary look off your face,” Applejack swipes at the air in front of him. “To be honest, it’s mostly my fault. Actually, scratch that, entirely my fault. Y’see… well…” Applejack looks down and sighs. “Reckon it’s a real stupid reason. A while ago, Rainbow got accepted into the Wonderbolts—as you might remember, from that TV programme—and she started getting busy. And I felt… I don’t know. Suddenly we barely got to talk or see each other anymore, and it made me feel somethin’ awful. It felt like she was gettin’ all cool and big and important, like she forgot all about me.” “I thought you said you were ignoring her, not the other way.” “Yeah, I kind of…” Applejack sighs again. “Decided to ignore her back? I mean, I didn’t think she would care, since she was always too busy for me anyway.” “But she did,” Big Mac points out. “That she did. That’s probably- no, that’s definitely why she got mad at me, an’ now I feel even more awful than before. But truth is…” Applejack gulps, unnamed feelings stirring up inside her. The words, having been bottled up for so long, come rushing out of the opened floodgates before she can stop them: “when she got into the Wonderbolts, I realised she was gunna leave Canterlot, so I guess I got pretty upset. I…” she confesses, her voice wobbly to her own ears. “I really didn’t want her to go.” Big Mac gives her a long look. His broad shoulders go up… down… with each inhale and exhale. “You like her.” Applejack definitely does not jump. “What?” Big Mac looks away. “...It was pretty obvious, really. Y’ain’t good at hiding yer feelings. Though, I thought you got over it already.” “Got over…?” Applejack murmurs. “What do you mean, got over… oh.” The vaguely warm feelings of relief that had come over her by releasing her frustrations vanish, replaced with the crushing slab of reality. An unpleasant shiver runs down her spine. “My middle-school crush? I got over my crush. I didn’t get over bein’ into girls.” He shuffles in place. “But you have to try… You know. Granny.” “Believe me, Mac,” Applejack breathes out slowly. “I’ve tried.” “I mean…” Big Mac’s eyes shift. “You can still marry a guy even if you don’t love them, right? We’re short-handed as it is, and the likes of Rainbow Dash… wouldn’t be very good help. Plus, we need to have kids to take on the farm. Although, I suppose you could adopt… but then they'll eventually want to find their birth parents, you know? They wouldn’t stay." Applejack could tell he was trying to be understanding, but knowing that didn’t help. Yeah. In the end, it's always about going back to the place where you came from, isn't it? No matter how far you look. No matter how far you go. It's a part of you, always. That alone has never changed. "I'm sorry, but you know…" “No, don't be. You’re right,” Applejack says. Her voice has never sounded so tiny. She swallows heavily, “It’s not realistic at all for me to chase her. Just… yeah. I'll get over it.” Big Mac’s jaw visibly tightens. “Applejack…” “Just… forget I said anythin', alright? Sorry,” Applejack looks away. And then they continue cooking in silence, which is just what she wanted in the first place anyway. One uneventful dinner later, everyone puts themselves to bed early. They’re all tuckered out from the effort exhausted at the booth against the Flim Flams, much as said effort was futile, so it’s understandable. Well, ‘everyone’ except Apple Bloom, apparently, as Applejack finds when she checks out the ruckus in the living room and sees her little sister wide awake, working on the shishi-odoshi. “I done told ya yer supposed to get my supervision before ya drill anythin’,” Applejack says. Vrrrrrr! Vrrrrrrrrrrrr! Apple Bloom looks up briefly, but doesn’t respond. Maybe she can’t hear her over the revving of the drill? Stepping around the bamboo poles scattered about the floor, Applejack seats herself next to the girl, whose hazel eyes remain focused on her work. With another loud noise, the metal drill bit sinks, carving a hole through the bamboo. “Careful of splinters," Applejack murmurs, not taking her eyes off her. “Yeah,” Apple Bloom's lips barely twitch. Vrrrrr! “Don’t want any of ‘em to get in yer eyes.” “That’s- ngh- why I’m wearin’ safety goggles.” Vrrrrr! “Could still happen. An’ they could cut yer hands.” Vrrrrr! “I’m wearin’ gloves.” Vrrrrrrr! Vrrrrrrrr! For a moment all is silent save for the sound of the drill. After a while, Apple Bloom finishes the second hole and sets aside the pole. She sits back down on her folded knees and wipes her glistening brow with the back of her gloved hand. “Want me to do it?” Applejack voices. “Ugh, no!” Apple Bloom shuts off the drill and lifts her goggles to look at her. “I’ve done drilling a million times before. Why are you even here?” “I’m just here to make sure yer safe,” Applejack says. “Are you sure you dun want me to do it for ya instea-” “No!” Apple Bloom snaps. Applejack frowns. “Now, Apple Bloom, you don’t talk to me that way-” But Apple Bloom continues, rapid-fire. “First you said the measuring was taking too long, so you measured all the poles while I was at school. Fine. Then you said that the sawing was dangerous, so you went and sawed everythang for me even after I told you I wanted to do it, and hid it in mah room. Now you won’t let me do the drilling either?” “Well,” Applejack has to take a second to gather her breath, “maybe you shouldn’t be wasting time on yer toy when you should be helpin’ the farm! We’re in dire straits as it is with the Flim Flams!” “Oh, I’m wasting time?” Apple Bloom seethes. She doesn’t throw the drill, per se, but she puts it down with enough force to make a clank. Then she stands up, little fists clenched. Applejack’s breath catches in her throat. She’s hardly ever seen her cheerful, happy-go-lucky sister like this. “You’re wasting time, insistin’ on watching me like a hawk all the time! You’re always wanting to do everything yourself, and then when you’re too tired to do anymore, you get angry at us for trying to help?” Apple Bloom throws her arms wide open. “We’re a family! We want to help you! Why don’t you get it?” “You don’t understand nothin’, Apple Bloom, yer just a child-” "Well I don’t care! I just wanna build it mahself," Apple Bloom scoops up a few poles and the drill and storms into her room. “Just- you- just go away!” And Applejack… Applejack struggles for words. So, like an idiot, she says the first thing that comes to mind: “Hearth's Warming is comin' up. If yer this disrespectful, Santa ain't gonna give you gifts this Hearth's Warming." "Santa doesn't exist." The door slams. “Why you-” Applejack’s about to say something, but a hollow, empty feeling permeates her. Because—as much as Apple Bloom’s little and doesn’t understand what she’s saying—she does confirm a lurking suspicion that Applejack’s had for a while now. That no one’s ever needed her. All this time she thought she was the strongest and most dependable one, but really, she’s the one who’s needed others to make her feel that way. It’s a horrible feeling. It's a moonless night out, and Applejack packs up the booth alone. Clouds cover the entire sky, shrouding what would ordinarily be the stars. But that doesn't matter, since the most dazzling starscape wouldn't be able to enchant her heart right now. …Huh. Ain’t that an awfully dramatic thought. Applejack feels kind of stupid thinking that—it’s not like she’s a character in a book, brooding over some forbidden love interest. When she was little, Applejack was a fan of romance novels, you know, to the point where she once begged Granny to let her move in with her bourgeoisie aunt and uncle in Manehattan just so she could feel like one of those princesses from her favourite childhood series. The interest was briefly rekindled at CHS, because hey, sometimes Rarity and Twilight have good recommendations, but it faded off once Applejack started getting busier and never quite found the time for them again. Life isn’t no fairytale, and Applejack sure as hell ain’t its protagonist. Somehow, Applejack remembers she has deliveries to send. Then somehow, she finds herself in the driver's seat of her van. Habitually, she leaves her hat on the co-driver's seat, but before starting the ignition, she just kind of sits there. Doesn’t even turn on the music. It’s just her, the interior lights casting her reflection in the dulled windshield, and the silence. Finally, the silence cracks—along with the seal of one of the bottles she's brought with her. Thanks to the poor sales, there's a lot of apple cider left over, and other stronger stuff that they’d brewed for the occasion. Rainbow Dash was right; it isn't as good as the kind straight from the barrel. Yet Applejack can’t bring it in herself to care at the moment, since it serves its purpose well either way. It doesn’t take too long for the numb fuzziness to settle into her bones and her thoughts become too watery for her to make heads or tails of them. Only one thought sticks out, seemingly too stubborn to drown in the tide with the others. Rainbow. Rainbow. Rainbow Dash. No matter what, she just can’t get her out of her head. As much as she routinely calls her varmint, rascal, devil, all as terms of affection of course, Applejack never once genuinely hated her. Applejack had thought she was ‘getting back’ at Rainbow, like this was another one of their childish challenges, but really, all she’d done was hurt Rainbow, who’d done nothing wrong to her. Rainbow had never even ignored her, not for a second. No, in fact she was the one who had looked out for Applejack this whole time, hadn’t she been? God, Applejack was a gigantic ass. She should really apologise, at least. Following that thought, she pulls out and flips open her phone. ME: Sorry about ignoring you. Before she can dwell too much on it, she’s typing something else. With a blip, the message appears on the screen. ME: I’d like to dance with you She stares at it for a beat. Then two. Two grey ticks appear beside the message, indicating that it has been delivered. “Buck. Oh my god,” Applejack smacks her face as the realisation belatedly sets in. “What in tarnation am I doin’?” In a panic, she grabs her phone up again, swipes a finger over the last message and hits ‘delete’. Just milliseconds before the message disappears from existence, though, she sees the two grey ticks flip blue, indicating the message has been read. She thinks for a second that it might be alcohol-induced delirium, but then above the chat, Rainbow Dash’s activity status reads: online. Her heart thump-thump-thumping in her ears, Applejack’s hand squeezes so hard around the phone it could break in two. Every muscle in her body, every cell in her brain, is screaming at her to do something, anything, but she can do nothing but stare with wide eyes at the screen as Rainbow’s activity status stays online. No typing. Just online. Had she read the message? Could Applejack have been imagining things? Should she type another message? Would Rainbow reply? What feels like an eternity passes. Then Rainbow’s activity status blips and turns offline again. "Oh," Applejack says aloud. Her own voice bounces back to her in the confines of the van. She almost starts giggling hysterically as she turns her phone off and finally, fumbling all the way through, jams the key in the ignition and slams the pedal. "Alright." ~ ~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ “Look at all of them,” Pa had said to her, pointing out over the fields. "Isn’t it marvelous." She was teetering on her tippy-toes, her blonde braids swishing back and forth. At her heels, her puppy Winona yipped excitedly. “I can’t see over the fence, Pa!” “Let me help you,” Pa squatted down. “One and two and- hup!” Applejack jumped onto Pa’s back, chubby arms and legs wrapping around him piggyback-style. “Heheheh.” High up above, fluffy white clouds drifted through the sky in a gentle breeze as birds soared between them, nary a care in the world. The pasture rolled out in front of them like a soft green blanket, with grassy hills that undulated far into the blue horizon. Cattle of all shapes and sizes ambled about the meadow leisurely, muzzles nosing between the grassblades as they grazed. “Whoaa… There we go!” Pa’s voice goes. “Easy on the fritters, girl, you’re gettin' real big.” “Does that mean I get to help with the cattle?” Applejack’s large green eyes gleamed. “You said big girls help with the cattle!” A deep, hearty chuckle sounded by her ear. Pa shifted her weight onto one arm, then with his free hand, poked her in the cheek. "Well, that’s what I brought you in here for. You would've known if you weren’t so darn busy stuffing your face at dinner." “Paaaaaa. They were apple crumble cookies!” Giggling girlishly, Applejack let go of Pa’s shoulders and tried to jump off his back. She flailed as Pa lowered her to the ground. "Be careful out there, sugarcube!" Ma called from the apple orchards, where she was picking apples with Big Mac. She was holding a basket full of fruit in her two hands, her fluffy ginger hair tied back in a low ponytail. The pronounced curve of her belly was just visible below her wrap dress. The smile on her face was as bright as the sun. “Yes, Ma!” Applejack yelled as Pa unlatched the gate and led her in by hand. “Come along, Winona!” The soft grass tickled her exposed shins as her boot-clad feet sank into the rich dirt below the pasture with every step. They treaded past clusters of wildflowers and patches of mimosa with their pink pompom-like flowers and dark leaves, which Applejack purposely brushed against so that the leaves would fold up like books. Winona skipped around in the grass, sniffing everything in sight. At this moment, Pa tugged on her hand gently. Stumbling a little, Applejack glanced up questioningly at him before he steered her away from the rear end of a cow. From beside her, the cow mooed and lifted her head up, ears pricking as her tail flicked from side to side. “Don’t walk up directly behind a cattle, or they might kick ya somethin' fierce,” Pa instructed. “Alright, now I’m gonna show you how to herd ‘em. Winona!” He pinched his fingers and whistled. Instantly, Winona perked up in their direction, wagging her tail furiously. “I’ve trained her up some already lettin’ her watch the neighbours’ dog herd sheep, so all you gotta do is walk around and make sure she gets ‘em in the pen,” Pa explained. “Walk steady, Winona! That’s it. Good girl. Now go!” Winona leapt ahead, bounding as fast she could on her four little legs. Meanwhile, Pa guided Applejack around the cow she had nearly run into before. “Put yer hand on her side.” Applejack held her hand up to it, barely brushing the cow’s fur. “Don’t be scared, honey. Gently does it,” Pa’s warm hand covered hers and pushed it until her palm was flat on the cow’s side. She could feel the cow’s fur rise and fall against her skin. “So long as you stay within their line of sight, they won’t be taken by surprise. Now you just steer her right towards the pen. Always stand on the opposite side of where ya want to go. Once you get one going, the others will start followin’. That’s it.” Led by Pa, Applejack walked in zigzags around the cows. Winona was loping around the herd, barking and nipping at the cows like a pro. Applejack giggled; Winona always was a smart dog. It wasn’t long before she let go of Pa’s hand and began jogging around the cattle too. Pa called after her, “Scamp, slow down! Don’t go ahead of the leader, or behind the straggler. Be gentle, patient. Just enough ‘ta keep the cows goin’. Dun spook ‘em or they’ll scatter.” Soon enough, the cattle were all huddled together, trotting one after the other as their heads bobbed. Cows stuck close to their calves and mooed, their eyes attentive. The way they moved in unison, brown and black and white all melding together, was like frothing waves in an ocean. They continued until they were gathered in the pen, and Pa closed the gate behind the last of them, like a tide ebbing away. It was beautiful. “Look, Pa, I did it! I did it!” she jumped and pointed. “Of course you did,” Pa swooped her up in his arms and kissed her on the forehead, beaming at her proudly. ~*~*~*~ When she was eleven, Pa and Ma died. It happened out of nowhere, on a day where nothing was happening. The explanation was an accident, plain and simple: the season was dry, something caught aflame, Pa and Ma were both in the barn, and then Granny was wrapping her in her arms, telling Applejack they were gone. Applejack became meticulous. This was even more so after she took over the farm; Granny and Apple Bloom were out of the question due to their age, and the normally withdrawn Big Mac had become entirely non-communicative after Pa and Ma’s deaths, so the responsibility fell on her shoulders alone. And so she made sure to scrutinise every last detail of the farm’s running. Fire safety systems in case of fire, a more diverse crop system in case of drought, the like. All that she could control, she controlled; and all that she couldn’t, she tried her darndest to control. It was the way to make sure nothing like that happened ever again. When Rainbow Dash came into her life, it rocked that boat mighty fierce. Rainbow was not like her. She was wild, reckless, chaotic. The average teenage city girl had average responsibilities, such as homework and exams. Rainbow looked like she had none. Like she was leaping through life, chasing whatever those rose eyes landed on. Applejack couldn’t imagine living like that, but maybe a part of her envied that free spirit of hers. Maybe some small part of Applejack wanted to go on a little adventure of her own, to run after the sky and see all that the world had to offer her. It was why she’d come to Canterlot, after all. Even when it would most certainly be harder on her. Even when she would be away from the farm for longer than what was necessary. Rainbow gave her that. Dragged her this way and that, stupid challenges, dumb jokes, roughhousing like they were kids in elementary rather than high school. It was like a sparkling comet had arced across her world and exploded it into colour again. As different as they had seemed initially, they were really similar after all. Applejack couldn’t have asked for a better best friend. So when had Applejack begun to love Rainbow Dash as more than that? It must have been a boring, dull moment. Far from the flower fields and hot air balloons and balconies of storybooks. Maybe it had been one of those lazy summer afternoons, mashing digital planes on an electronic screen, sweaty T-shirts sticking to the couch and feet on cold tile, when Applejack caught herself staring at the other a little too long. Or in second year, when her rival and friend in the first year race pulled out the chair next to her desk and triumphantly announced that she was going to be her classmate for the semesters to come. Or earlier still: when Applejack held out her spit-stained hand to her, and she’d understood it for what it was. Did it matter? Does it matter when Applejack realised Rainbow had become so intertwined in the carefully-woven strands of her life, that her leaving would be like ripping out a piece of her soul too? It’s ironic, isn’t it. Applejack, herself, was never going to stay in Canterlot either. Once they graduate, it’s over. They’ll go their separate ways, she goes to Cloudsdale, Applejack goes home, like nothing had ever happened. ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~ ~ Applejack opens her eyes and doesn't know where she is. The ceiling above her is made of wood, painted a murky pink shade. A single lamp dangles above her head, switched off. Applejack sits up on the small single bed she’d found herself in. She's in what seems to be an attic; the roof is slanted and the room is generally cramped, stacked full of dusty cardboard boxes in every corner. Applejack glances aside and sees a vanity with a mirror. Her hair is a mess and her eyes look bloodshot. She's in a plain T-shirt and baggy trousers that are too big and don't belong to her. What in the world happened? Rubbing her eyes, Applejack tries to remember what happened last night. She had been at the farm, packing up after the event. And then... she'd been on her way to deliver something, right? Her memory feels so cloudy it escapes her every mental grasp. She needs air, she surmises. Standing up, she walks toward the other end of the room where a small glass window is closed. "It's okay," she mumbles to herself. "So I think I got drunk... an' maybe I passed out at the wheel. Some neighbour picked me up and took me in. I'm at Berry's, or somethin'. I'll just have to thank her for the hospitality, apologise to her for the trouble, and then make my way right back--" She opens the window. Firstly, what hits her is not winter wind. It's scorching hot, and incredibly dry; Applejack pulls away, coughing from what seems to be dust in the air. Then, she forces her groggy eyes open and peeps outside. And her heart nearly stops beating. Looking out, she sees endless dunes of sand stretching as far as the eye can see. It may as well have been a desert. Clumps of tumbleweed roll across the dunes where cacti are growing sparsely like in old-time movies. A blazing afternoon sun hangs high in the sky. She recognises absolutely nothing. It’s then when the sunlight sends a piercing migraine shooting through her skull, her hangover finally catching up to her. Clutching her head, she groans and sinks to the floor on her knees. She's been kidnapped for real, this time. She's been brought across states. Hell, maybe she's on a whole ‘nother continent now. It's all over. That's when the door opens. "Girl? Are you up?" Applejack cranes her neck to see a middle-aged woman in the doorway. She has thick curly maroon hair, fastened in a ponytail by a cherry-patterned gold headband. After looking about for a while, the woman seems to spot her curled up on the floor by the window. "Oh, dear me. Are you alright?" "No," Applejack grits out too softly for anyone to hear. "What was that?" the woman hurries over and squats down beside her. She speaks in a foreign-sounding accent. There’s a glass of water in her hand that Applejack hadn’t noticed earlier. “Drink this water, you’ll feel better. Don’t worry, you’re not in any danger.” Like I’m gonna believe some random stranger. Dimly, Applejack knows it’s unwise to accept drinks from strangers but hey, she’s stuck across the world now, how much worse can it get? So she reaches for the ice-cold glass—doesn’t drop it, despite her shaking fingers, thank the lord—and quenches her parched throat. Her head does feel clearer. Just a little. “So, my name is Cherry Jubilee, and I’m the boss here at Cherry Hill Ranch, where you’re now at,” the woman was explaining once Applejack could concentrate on her words. “What’s your name, sweetie?” “Applejack,” Applejack gets out. Her mouth feels like it’s full of wool. “Wonderful. Can you remember what happened?” “No.” Jubilee purses her glossed lips. “Well, how about you get a shower first, and then I’ll explain to you what happened.” Jubilee tries to get her to eat breakfast. There’s some corned beef and beans from a can, fried bacon and eggs on a plate (“I heard greasy food is good for hangovers—not that I drink, of course,” she’d said), and a cup of black coffee. Applejack downs the coffee immediately. Applejack also eats some of the food, even though she feels too queasy to have any appetite, because she figures this stranger must have prepared it all by herself. She’s neither seen nor heard anyone else in the house, and there’s only two plates on the table, hers and Applejack’s. Applejack asks her about it, half out of curiosity and half out of courtesy. Cherry Jubilee looks up from where she’s brewing her own cup on the kitchen counter and sniffs. "My ungrateful son moved out of Dodge Junction years back. Took his idiot father with him too. I’d say good riddance, but it's just me and whatever hired help I can get, keeping this here ranch afloat. No one wants to work on farms anymore." "Dodge Junction…” Applejack echoes. “So that’s where I am?" "Uh-huh. Where are you from, dear?" "Ponyville. Lil' village south of Canterlot." "Can't say I've heard of that village, I'm afraid." "Didn’t expect you to," Applejack says, nursing a chunk of bacon on her cottony tongue. "So, is there any way back?" "Well, you’re in eastern Appleloosa at the moment. It's a while from the nearest train station. Why not I show you around, after breakfast?” They finish up. Applejack washes the dishes for her, it’s the least she can do. Then they head for the door. Jubilee tells her her clothes are in the wash and that she’ll give them back to her when they’re clean. “And your boots are right here-” Jubilee bends over and takes her work galoshes out from a shoe cupboard by the door, handing them to her. “Where’s my hat?” Applejack questions. “Your hat?” Jubilee ponders, blinking. “I don’t remember you wearing a hat… Oh! Was it a brown Stetson? I think I saw it beside you in your van.” “Oh,” Applejack pulls on her boots. “Let’s go see it then.” A flicker of something that Applejack can't quite place crosses Jubilee's face. But the woman nods, pulling on boots of her own. She unlatches the door and Applejack follows her outside. The weather is searing, much like the wind she’d felt earlier. She immediately feels like she’s going to break out in drenching sweat. They do indeed look to be on a ranch, instead of the alien abduction facility she's been imagining this whole time (what? It was a possibility!). A winding sand path cuts through the thin grass field surrounding the farmhouse, leading to an orchard of cherry trees in full pink bloom, the red of the first cherries peeking out through the brush. Beyond the ranch, the peaks of a tall rock mountain scrape the fiery sky. Jubilee, walking ahead of her, doesn’t take the main path, but a side path that diverges from it and leads around the house. Applejack's crunching footsteps follow hers. “So… what happened?” Applejack finally braves to ask. Jubilee thinks. “It was last night; well, this morning, I suppose, at three… or was it four?... Never mind that. Anyway, I was sleeping soundly when a loud crash woke me up in the wee hours of the morning.” “I went down and found your van at the mill, gone off-course from the road. You were passed out at the wheel with a bottle in your hands. The engine was leaking and there were sparks- You’re lucky I found you when I did.” “Sparks? Engine? Wait," Applejack puts a hand up. "The van. Was the van okay?" Jubilee's silence is her answer. "No,” Applejack gasps. “No, no, no, not the van—” She stops short as they round the corner. There's a flour mill here, standing tall and towering above the farmhouse, the vanes creaking in the barest hint of desert wind. Against the side, there is the van. Or what remains of the van. Suddenly she's eleven again, being told the news, almost able to imagine the scene. The fire. The smothering, smothering smoke. Ignoring Jubilee's shouts not to, Applejack runs up to the van. The van lies at the end of a trench of dirt and rocks likely dug up as the van veered off the road and went down the short hill. The van had swerved in its trajectory so both the passenger side of the bumper and left side of the van were smashed into the side of the mill. The windscreen is intact, hence why it left Applejack unscathed, but the bonnet was less fortunate. The engine is visible from the hole in the bonnet where the metal had crushed up, leaking a river of diesel like Jubilee had described. Applejack runs her fingers on the driver side of the van, where the white paint is charred on top of peeling. The old engine of the van had caused a fire upon collision. Not an explosion, but bad enough to cause serious fire damage to the van. I never even got to take Rainbow for a ride in it. She runs to the other side pressed against the wall of the mill and slams her shoulder into it. “Rnnngh-agh!” With all her strength, she pushes the van until its sagging tyres drag through the dirt, revealing the other side of the van. The once red SWEET APPLE ACRES is now blackened so much she can barely make out the words. She kind of chokes up. She still remembers her father painting the words with her on his shoulders. How the Apple family had never touched up the fading paint, one of their ways of remembering him. Now it’s gone because of her. Running back around, heaving, she wrenches open the driver’s door and sees her hat in there, on the co-driver seat where she always leaves it. Tallulah, her father’s hat. By some miracle, it’s sooty, but still in one piece. She grabs it and puts it on her head. Breathe, Applejack, she can almost hear him saying to her. She does, gulping lungful after lungful of air. Then, she whirls around to face Jubilee. "How much to repair it?" "Applejack, get back, it's not safe. I don’t think the van can be salvaged easily-" "I said, how much to repair it??!" Applejack raises her voice. Jubilee doubles back, stunned. Applejack steps toward her and continues, unrelenting. "You said you needed more farmhands. I’ve worked on a farm for the better half of a decade. Apples, cherries, same difference. I'll work for ya until I can pay off the repairs. I'll fix the damaged part of yer mill too." Meeting her eyes, she softens her voice. "Please. Let me work here. I can't go back like this." Jubilee’s face doesn’t soften, but something in her expression cracks. She’s desperate, Applejack can tell. They both are, really. "Very well,” she says. “You may work at Cherry Hill Ranch until you see it fit to return."