//------------------------------//
// We'll Meet Again 
// Story: Sepia 
// by Incandesca 
//------------------------------//

Swaddled in the amber shine of sunset, Granny Smith rocked in her chair.

Atop her lap was spread an ancient quilt. It smelt of dust, and mothballs, and the long-lingering scent of baked apple goods. The stitching scratched rough against her thinning, faded green coat, but she loved it.

It felt like home. Like the loving smiles of her Ma and Pa. Like a hug from her husband. Like Celestia's Sun warming her coat on Harvest Day as Applejack and Big Macintosh worked the fields.

She needed it these days, to stay warm. 

The past few months a chill had entered her bones, and refused to leave no matter how hot the summer day or roaring the campfire.

But the kids - and that pretty young filly her grandson hooked - made sure to keep her comfortable.

She smiled. They were such good kids. She couldn't take all the pride in raising them, though.

Before it was just her, there'd been Pear and Brighty. And after, they raised themselves as much as she raised them.

But they were good kids regardless, and she couldn't begin to put into words just how dang proud they made her.

She glanced down, to the hooves-thick tome in her lap. Its cover showed clean, but nothing short of magic could wash away the smell of old memories. She doubted even that would work.

With a trembling hoof, she opened it to the beginning.

Even this far back, she recognized the ponies in the photographs. Sepia faces smiled upon her, loving life and all its wonders. And how could they not? They - and she - were the first generation to see the invention of the camera, and the amazing things it could do.

Funny, that. A thing that once upon a time seemed so magical, incomprehensible, had become mundane. Just like magic itself.

Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, Nieces, Nephews. This shelf-rattler of a scrapbook ran the gamut from Great Great Grandparents to the newest generation of the Apple Family.

And still, over half the pages remained blank.

Granny smiled, and started with her parents.

That was before the Apple Family moved to Ponyville - before Ponyville existed. There she saw herself as a bright, youthful, and strong teen filly.

Once, she longed for those days.

Once.

Now, she was satisfied with the life she'd led. She knew, when her time came, the farm and family name rest in good hooves.

The only regret she had was knowing she would not live to see her great granddaughter.

She turned through the pages, watching as the settings changed. Back then, Sweet Apple Acres had been wild, untamed - not quite part of the Everfree, but close.

Gradually the tangled roots and twisted trees disappeared. Plowed fields and new saplings took their place, and those saplings became strong apple trees.

In the photos, she saw herself as an adult mare. In her eyes showed respectful, restrained grief.

Behind her, no parents stood.

Then her husband appeared, and Granny Smith smiled. Pages later, they held a foal in their hooves, wrapped in blankets. The child bore a dark mane and light fur.

Two more pages, and she appeared in one photo, wearing a black veil. Beneath her eyes were wrinkles that hadn't been there before.

She continued, and watched as Bright Mac grew. From a baby, to a colt, to a teenager. By the time he reached adulthood, the photos were in color.

A little while later, she saw him and Pear. Then, their first child - Big Mac. Applejack followed. Finally, little Apple Bloom.

And then, the couple disappeared.

A lump caught in her old throat, but she did not cry. She'd be with them, soon. Ma, Pa, her hubby. Pear and her beautiful boy Bright Mac.

She closed her eyes, shut the book, and called out.

"Applejack! I think I'm ready now."

The sound of hooves against carpet and creaking wood floated out the house. The door creaked open, and her middle granddaughter stepped out onto the porch. Following her came Big Mac, his wife, and Apple Bloom.

No smiles on these faces today.

Applejack moved to her side. "Are ya sure, Granny?"

Beside her, Apple Bloom's lip trembled. "Y-yeah. How d'ya know?"

Granny smiled, and reached to brush a tear from the mare's cheek. "I jus' do, honeycrisp. When yer my age, you'll understand."

"But I don't. You've lived fer so long. How can ya go away now? What about Mac and Sugar?" Her breath hitched, and sadness flowed down her cheeks. "Y-yer gonna miss the baby."

"I know. I wish it didn't have ta be that way, but it's my time."

Applejack removed her stetson. "Thank you, Granny. Fer everything ya've done. I know I ain't say it enough, so I'm sayin' it now - I love you."

"I love you too," Apple Bloom echoed.

Granny looked towards Big Mac. He opened his mouth to speak, before the dam broke.

"Come now, child," she soothed. His wife, concerned, hugged him tight. "It ain't forever. One sunny day we'll meet again, I know it."

She reached up, unfastened her ascot, and passed it to Applejack. "I want you to have this."

Applejack's jaw worked. "But, Granny-"

"No buts. It's yers now. Take care of it fer me, and pass it down when it's yer time, too."

Applejack's voice broke. "I will, Granny. I will."

"Good girl."

Leaning back, Granny shut her eyes and breathed out.

The noise sounded hollow.

"Be with me, won't ya'll?"

She sensed the four surround her. Two hooves, one huge, held her left hoof. Two more, one smaller, took her right.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice brittle as wind through dry leaves. "I'm so proud a' ya'll. But now..."

She breathed in, taking in the scent of Sweet Apple Acres one last time.

"I'm ready ta leave."

As her final breath escaped, she saw the smiling faces of the ones she'd lost flash before her eyes.

She smiled back.

When she stepped forward, she did so on young hooves.