Applejack had been doing fairly brisk business all morning, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary happened until the bell in the clock tower sounded eleven times. As the final peal faded away, the farmer’s attention was drawn to the sound of a purse full of bits being dropped onto her stall’s counter.
“Dried apple slices. Now.”
Applejack didn’t even have to look at her customer to know who it was. “Mornin’, Bon-Bon.”
Most residents of Ponyville knew Bon-Bon as the town’s premier confectioner—basically, anything sugary that didn’t fall into the category of “baked goods” could be purchased from her. Her chocolate truffles were decadently scrumptious, her gummi candies were bursting with fruit flavors, and her oversized lollipops were the bane of dentists throughout Equestria.
However, a select few also knew that that the candymaker was one of the most obsessive preppers around, and that the custom-built steel-reinforced shelter in her basement had one of the most well-stocked pantries for any doomsday scenario that a pony could possibly imagine. Of course, as far as Bon-Bon was concerned, there was ultimately only one kind of apocalypse that was even remotely imaginable, but it was one that loomed large over the whole of ponykind.
“I take it you heard about the fog,” Applejack commented as she pulled several bags of dehydrated fruit from her cart and placed them in front of her customer.
“Hmph,” Bon-Bon snorted derisively. “As if they’d go to all this trouble if it was something as mundane as some wayward clouds. You know what this is really about, don’t you?”
The farmer sighed; she’d had this conversation many times before, and every time it managed to end up in the same place. “Lemme guess: humans?”
“Exactly!” Bon-Bon said excitedly as she slammed a hoof on the counter. “This fog has obviously been unleashed upon us to provide cover for the invasion!” Applejack had no idea where the mare had gotten the idea of humans from, but she’d heard more than enough rants to get a fairly good idea of what they were supposed to be like. Allegedly, humans were a species of superintelligent, hairless sasquatches who could somehow cause widespread devastation despite their complete inability to use any sort of magic whatsoever. According to Bon-Bon, these heinous creatures coveted the vast resources of Equestria, and were forever planning to launch an invasion, intent on taking possession of the land and subjugating the ponies who lived on it.
Of course, Bon-Bon was always quick to point out that she didn’t think the humans would actually succeed; there was no way that they’d be able to overcome the might of the Royal Princesses. “But they won’t be able to prevent all the destruction. Mark my words: those monsters are sore losers, and if they can’t have Equestria, they won’t let us keep it either. It’s called a scorched-earth policy, my friend. That’s why stores of food are going to be especially important to the rebuilding process. You know, it might not be too late to have some basic modifications done to your barn to reinforce it. Luna knows, that thing always seems to be falling down—”
“I think we’ll take our chances.”
“Are you sure? Because I know a contractor here in Ponyville who has very reasonable rates.”
“Pretty sure. The Apples have always been willin’ ta take risks.”
“If you say so, but I really think...” Bon-Bon trailed off as she heard a vague chopping sound from above, accompanied by occasional squeaks and whistles. She briefly scanned the skies above for a few seconds until she spotted what she was looking for. “What the— Since when are the helicopters supposed to be pink?!” The confectioner quickly scooped her purchases into her saddlebags, informed Applejack she could keep the change, and galloped off towards her home.
Curious, Applejack looked upwards herself. “Huh... looks like Pinkie Pie’s back.”
August 31 – 11:17 AM
“So, uh, Rarity? Could you explain what a cravat is again?”
The white unicorn had a bewildered look on her face, as if it she’d never expected anypony to ask her something so patently obvious. This expression soon passed, however. After all, Spike was only a baby dragon. “Well, dear, the cravat is a sort of neckband that was the forerunner to the modern necktie. As such, it is worn underneath a collar, and tied in a knot—though not so tight as to restrict a pony’s ability to breathe.”
“Oh, um, okay.” That didn’t quite answer Spike’s question, but he figured that it would be much clearer once Rarity had actually selected a cravat for Fluttershy.
“No... no... Celestia’s mane, no... no.... Paisley?! How on earth did that ever get in my collection?” Rarity floated several pieces of fabric in front of her, comparing their textures and hues to those of Fluttershy’s coat and mane before flinging the rejected options in Spike’s general direction. It was the dragon’s job to retrieve and reorganize these swatches, to keep the library floor from becoming a chaotic mess.
Of course, Fluttershy had plenty of experience with this ritualistic fussing—it was standard practice for Rarity to begin the creative process with a string of rejected ideas. In fact, were she so inclined, Fluttershy might have answered her friend’s rhetorical question by suggesting that she put it there so she could make a comment about how much she disliked the paisley-patterned fabric. The pegasus, however, remained silent, mostly because she was Fluttershy, and partly because making snarky comments to a friend who was trying to help her out was a bit rude.
“Are you really sure this is worth taking up Fluttershy’s time?” Twilight asked, clearly skeptical.
“Absolutely! There are few things that convey a sense of authority quite like neckwear. Or are you not familiar with the concept of the ‘power tie’?”
“Actually, I am,” Twilight Sparkle replied. “I remember coming across the term in a book as a filly and asking my dad about it. He told me it’s something haberdashers made up to sell more neckties to easily intimidated stallions.”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Well, I suppose that if one assumes a power tie is supposed to give somepony a psychological advantage in a conversation, one could be forgiven for dismissing the idea as hogwash. I, on the other hoof, am referring to the more general idea that authority figures should dress like authority figures if they want to be taken seriously. After all, one would not expect anypony to respect the mayor if she wore her clown costume at any time other than Nightmare Night.”
“Oh,” Fluttershy said, entering the conversation. “Is that why she wears a cravat?” She’d hoped there was a good reason for her to be wearing a heavily starched collar—not that she minded the excuse to think about something other than the fog.
“Precisely. It’s also the reason she dyes her mane grey.”
“I thought she did that because her mane clashes with her coat,” chirped a new voice from behind the fashionista, causing her to drop all of her fabric samples on the floor.
“Pinkie Pie! When did you get here?”
“Around the time you started talking about my Auntie Diane’s clown costume. So, Fluttershy,” the earth pony said, “ready to hear my report?”
“Um, sure,” the fog specialist lied. “Go ahead.”
“Okay. Well, as far as how fast it’s moving, it took about 45 seconds for the fog to travel twenty trots.”
Fluttershy briefly did some mental math before nodding. “Okay, I guess that’s about what I’d expect given the reported wind speeds. Um, do you have any idea how big it is?”
“Uh, no, actually. I wasn’t flying high enough to see the whole thing.”
Fluttershy knew that the fog bank was supposed to be really big, but this... well, it didn’t sound good. “Um, that’s okay,” she responded. “I didn’t really ask for that, after all. So, er, how thick is it?”
“Well, really, really, really thick. I wasn’t walking for very long before I couldn’t make out anything other than the ground, and when I looked behind me, I could barely see the end of my tail. I, um, got lost. I eventually got lucky, and ended up on my family’s rock farm, which was good, because it was also really cold and damp and I was starting to shiver and shake all over the place and my hooves were getting numb.”
“What?!” Twilight Sparkle shouted, concern etched onto her face. “Pinkie, are you certain about this?”
“Oh, definitely. It was my father who found me, and my mother was in the house he led me to, so I’m pretty certain that it was their farm.”
Twilight glowered at her friend for a few seconds before responding: “I was referring to your body’s physical reaction to the fog.”
“My goodness, Twilight, you look like you’re about to panic,” Rarity said, pausing from her task of sorting through various swatches of fabric.
“That’s because Pinkie Pie was showing symptoms of hypothermia. Fluttershy, if this is true, then this fog isn’t just a threat to pegasus ponies. Any earth ponies and unicorns who get caught in it are going to be in serious trouble.”
This was the last thing the fog specialist wanted to hear at the moment. “Er... when you say ‘serious,’ you wouldn’t happen to mean it in the sense of ‘not particularly funny,’ would you?”
“I mean that it’s quite possible that we’ll have non-pegasi who need medical attention if they aren’t inside when the fog arrives.”
Fluttershy’s ears drooped as she realized the implication: the number of ponies who’d be relying on her for her leadership and knowledge had effectively tripled. “But... fog shouldn’t be that bad. Not at this time of year.”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve established that this fog isn’t normal. Fluttershy, we need to form a plan.”
“Oh... right. A plan. Um, okay. When Rainbow Dash gets back, we’ll start discussing strategies, to, um... implement.” Fluttershy really hoped that sentence made her sound like she knew what she was talking about.
“Speaking of whom, where is Rainbow Dash?” Rarity asked. “I haven’t seen her all morning.”
“Oh, she went off to let the pegasi who aren’t on the weather team know about the fog this morning.”
“I see... and when was this?”
“Um, she got started... nearly five hours ago.”
“Right,” Twilight said, somewhat skeptically. “And how long would you expect her job to take?”
“Uh, not too long. I mean, I asked her to do it because she’s so fast.”
“Is that so?” the purple unicorn replied with a distinctly skeptical note in her voice. “Tell me, how was she acting right before she left you?”
“Well, not like she usually does. I mean, she volunteered to scout the fog for me this morning, and she seemed a little bit annoyed to find out that I’d already sent Pinkie Pie to do it. Um, you don’t think she’s in trouble, do you?”
“If she isn’t, there’s a good chance she will be,” Twilight muttered.
“Um, could you speak up?” Fluttershy asked. “I, uh, didn’t quite get that.”
“Never mind. Uh, look, maybe you should have somepony on the weather team go find her.”
“But... I don’t want to impose...”
“Fluttershy, I’m pretty sure that imposing is part of your job description. I mean, according to the Department of Weather, everypony who gets a paycheck from them answers to you until this fog is taken care of.”
“Oh, right... I guess I forgot about that.” Fluttershy turned towards Pinkie Pie. “Pinkie, could you find a member of the weather team and have them tell Rainbow Dash to come to the library? Um, if they give you any trouble, you can just tell them I said so, I suppose.”
Pinkie responded with a crisp salute. “Yes sir, Commander Fluttershy! About... face! Company... march! Hut, two, three, four! Hut, two, three, four! Unintelligible... yell!” She somehow managed to hold the stern expression on her face until she shut the library door behind her, after which several seconds of muffled giggling could be heard before they finally faded away.
“Well,” Rarity said as she once again started levitating fabrics in the air, “at least you have a better idea of what you’re up against.”
“Yeah,” Fluttershy replied dolefully. But I still have no idea what to do about it.