Year Six: Beyond The Horizon
Clenching a match between her forehooves, Applejack struck the back of the matchbox, creating a pinprick of light in the dark kitchen. She put the match to a single candle in the center of the kitchen table, racing the tiny, flickering flame. She won.
Applejack rested on her haunches and began to organize her paperwork as quietly as she could. The rest of the farmhouse was silent and slumbering. Summer reigned from on high, creating a pleasant, warm night. She had no need for blankets or firewood. Just light.
She sighed. She yearned for the taunting figures on the parchment before her to be only a trick of the light. However, Applejack could not blame shoddy illumination on this discrepancy. Even after this year’s Zap Apple Jam season and the regular apple harvests, profits were down, expenses were up, and Applejack was scrambling.
Recently, the plow and several other farming tools had to be replaced. That had been expensive. The pigs—their last remaining livestock—were carted off to auction just a week ago. Their upkeep couldn’t justify the fertilizer they produced. That, too, would need to be purchased from now on.
Applejack couldn’t put her hoof on the cause. In the past few years, exports of Applejack Daniels to the larger cities—Trottingham, Canterlot, and Manehatten—had decreased in demand. Ponies there were no longer drinking Apple Family beverages. Hay, even apple sales there declined.
Appleloosa’s demand grew, but the tiny settlement couldn’t compete with the larger losses. Ponyville sales also decreased slightly, doubtlessly caused by the general decline of the town’s economy. Many ponies were taking to their hooves and the road, called by whispers of gold, silver, oil, labor and cheap land in the West. On one hoof, Applejack couldn’t blame them. On the other, she despised their willingness to abandon their fellows, to drown them in their dust. Recovery, when (not if) it came, would be slow, and emigration would not assist it.
There were only so many towns throughout Equestria, and with each lost sale or cancelled contract, the Apple Family had to search for a replacement market. Those were becoming fewer and farther between. The exodus of her own townsfolk was certainly less than reassuring.
Applejack fumbled through her inventory and budget listings. She double and triple-checked her figures, sweat dripping down her nape. Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. The Element of Honesty wasn’t sure if she could handle this truth.
Cursing her insomnia, Applejack blew out the candle and gathered her paperwork. “We’ll be fine. We’ve always been,” she reasoned, keeping her voice barely above a trembling whisper. “We’ve been through worse.”
~
Clousdale and Canterlot proved to be deserving of their monstrous titles. A few weeks after their departure, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo wrote to their fellow Crusaders, parchment drenched in excited scribbles of their new adventures. Scootaloo was a lead pony and performing near the top of her Academy class. Sapphire Shores positively adored Sweetie Belle’s voice and encouraged her to write original music and lyrics.
Unfortunately, neither of the twain would be able to visit Ponyville for at least a year. Engrossed in their own demands and held hostage by strict instructors, both were forced to leave their friends in their hometown. Both assured, however, that if Babs Seed and Apple Bloom could find the means to bridge the distance between them, they would make all the time in Equestria for their meeting.
Again, Fate frowned down at Babs and Apple Bloom. Travel required bits. Bits that they no longer possessed.
A few days after their eighteenth birthdays—mares at long last—Applejack broke the harsh, reluctant news to her sibling and cousin, sitting them down at the kitchen table after a particularly grueling day of work.
“Ah’m gonna keep this short,” Applejack said, pulling up a stool to the table. “But there’s somethin’ Ah have ta tell y’all, though Ah wish Ah didn’t have ta.”
Confused glances were swapped between her wards. Apple Bloom and Babs Seed joined her and took their own seats. Her sibling was the first to inquire, “What do ya mean, Applejack?”
“Well… look. Ah’m jus’ gonna come out an’ say it. Ah can’t pay y’all any mo’ fer yer work. Not until harvest time, at least,” Applejack spat, fiddling with her forehooves. She tugged on her Stetson and dodged their gaze. Her ears flattened, regretting the words they’d heard.
Babs Seed asked, “Why is dat, Applejack?” Her muscles ached beneath her coat, torn fresh and anew from another tiresome day in the fields. With school forever out of the way, they worked from dawn until dusk. Spurred by little other than her own foalish pride, Babs Seed pushed herself to the limit, to the edge of the edge. Driven by no whip, threatened by no chains, she sought merely to challenge herself, to see how much she could take.
Bits, though they mattered little, would be a nice exchange for her efforts.
Applejack muttered, ashamed, “Well, Ah don’t really know how o’ why, but we aren’t makin’ as much money as we used ta, an’—“
“We jus’ bought a new plow a few weeks ‘go! Don’t youze tell me right now we’re broke,” Babs snapped. Leaning forward on her forehooves, she pressed, “What’s the real reason, Applejack?”
“Ah don’t have any other reason,” Applejack replied, glancing up at Babs from beneath her Stetson. “Why would ya think Ah have any other reason? Are ya callin’ me a liar?”
Babs countered, “No, but it seems awful strange ta me dat youze suddenly can’t pay us. We’re grown mares workin’ our tails off in dat heat!”
Brushing aside her shame, Applejack looked the filly straight in the eyes, leaning across the table. “What do ya think Ah’m doin’ all day? Ya even saw me workin’ out there earlier wit’ y’all!”
“Not as long as I was!”
“Ah don’t ask ya ta push yerself like that! Ya do it on yer own!”
Apple Bloom said calmly, “Ya know, it’s really not that big o’ a deal—“
Snapping her head around to face her, Babs argued, “What do youze mean ‘it’s not dat big o’ a deal’? Bloom, we’ve been earnin’ fo’ years! An’ now we won’t be paid—“
“Until harvest time,” Applejack finished. “Not forever. Besides, Babs, what’s so damn important ya can’t go without pay fer a few months?”
Babs Seed narrowed her eyes and growled through her teeth to the surprise of both siblings, “Dat’s none o’ youze business.”
Apple Bloom shook her muzzle, certain her ears betrayed her. She blinked several times, finding herself thrust into reality, rather than some dream of a parallel universe. Babs Seed had just growled at Applejack, dismissing her carelessly. Placing a forehoof on her mare's shoulders, she hesitantly asked, “Babs, are ya alright?”
“I’m fine, Bloom,” Babs dismissed, breaking free of her grasp. Rising from her haunches and pointing her hooves towards the front door, she added, “Guess I’ll go an’ do some mo’ work fo’ free. Don’t have anythin’ betta ta do.”
Muttering curses that would make a Royal Guard blush, Babs Seed exited the farmhouse, nearly slamming the front door off its hinges in her wake. Two Apples pondered the silence and fidgeted with their forehooves.
Then, Apple Bloom began to apologize on her filly’s behalf. “Don’t worry, Applejack, Ah’ll go talk ta her later ‘bout it. She needs ta apologize, though Ah’m sure she didn’t mean it.”
Applejack secured her Stetson on her head and sighed. “Ya don’t have ta do that, Apple Bloom. Ah don’t wanna drive a wedge ‘tween y’all. Ah’m sure it’s jus’ ‘cuz she’s tired o’ somethin’.”
Apple Bloom trotted over and nuzzled her sister. “Are ya sure there ain’t mo’ ta this, Applejack? This not gettin’ paid, Ah mean?”
Returning the gesture, Applejack answered, “No. It’s jus’…Ah’ll tell ya ‘bout it sometime later. Not now. Ah gotta go talk ta Granny an’ Mac ‘bout a few things.”
Applejack began to make her way out of the kitchen, suddenly halted by a stray thought. “Oh, one mo’ thing, Bloom.”
“What’s that, Applejack?”
“Can ya go get the mail fer me in town? Ah didn’t have time ta take care o’ it this mornin’.”
Apple Bloom nodded eagerly. No errand or task from Applejack’s edict truly inconvenienced her. Sure, as a foal and a filly, she would bemoan her chores, though she had no honest reason to do so. As a mare, she knew all that Applejack commanded was within reason and not without purpose.
Still, as Apple Bloom strode towards town’s center, she couldn’t help but wonder if Babs Seed had stumbled upon some smidgen of truth. Perhaps there was a reason beyond pure economics that Applejack wasn’t going to pay them for a while?
Perhaps, she pondered, was this her sister’s way of urging them to strike out on their own, just as Sweetie and Scoots had?
~
Summer’s sun rose and fell upon its apex and descent, churning away their days. Weeks passed. Apple Bloom rose with the dawn and nudged Babs Seed awake with her, ignoring pleas of, “Jus’ five mo’ minutes…” Those words, of course, never worked. Apple Bloom was stronger than that.
The days preceding the fall harvest began to trickle away. All of their days merged and stretched into one infinite, repetitive cycle. Wake with the dawn. Chow down breakfast. Work in the fields, the orchards, the farmhouse, whatever needed tending. Check the mail. Write back a reply to Sweetie or Scoots some lucky days, sigh in disappointment the rest. Chow down dinner with the rest of the family. Collapse into bed, exhausted, unable to talk for more than a few minutes before one of them fell asleep.
Such was the life of Apple Bloom and Babs Seed, post-graduation.
During her toil, Babs Seed found a familiar, tranquil peace, a silence of her buzzing brain that seemed to purge her anxiety. While pulling the plow, or bucking apple trees, or baling hay, or doing any sort of mindless task, she was calm and quiet of mind. She was content under the blazing sun, the unrelenting heat, the echo of the wind through her ears in the fields beyond. She was alright with her two best friends being worlds away from her, nothing within her own power to bridge that distance.
She was alright confined to Sweet Apple Acres, to her boundaries and responsibilities. And so was Apple Bloom. Or so it seemed.
~
The desert road stretched endlessly beyond her forehooves, leading to the division between the heavens and the Earth. That horizon, trickster boundary it was, did not fade or shrink as she trotted towards it. She picked up her pace, escalating quickly to a canter, then a full-speed gallop, chasing it, pursuing it, predator and prey tangoing in the dying light of the setting sun.
Churning up a cloud of dust, Babs Seed held her muzzle high, breathing through her nostrils. On her back, she carried only the most meager of provisions. Enough water to hold her until an oasis or town. Enough food to satisfy her gnawing hunger once it could no longer be disregarded. A blanket, some matches, some candles, some parchment, quills, and ink. The bare necessities were all she needed.
But, she thought, pounding her hooves against the sand—the horizon and its ornamental sun eluding her through her fruitless steps—perhaps there was something else she needed. No. Not something else. Somepony else.
Babs Seed turned around, skidding to a halt.
Beneath fire in the sky, a shadowy figure emerged from behind her, its identity obscured by a traveler’s cloak. The pony rivaled her in height by only six inches, and in weight by maybe thirty or so pounds. Nevertheless, she could discern from its slow, ragged breaths that this figure was a stallion.
A stallion? Who? The only stallions she cared about were in Ponyville or Appleloosa, not in the desert plains between.
“Who are youze?” Babs Seed barked, bracing her hooves and flexing her powerful muscles beneath her fur. Was he a fellow traveler, a vagabond-in-the-making, just as she? Or was he far more sinister? Her senses failed to side with either half of her suspicions.
The approaching stallion continued, his hoof-steps as slow and calculated as his breath. Muzzle hidden by a black cowl, his coat and cutiemark kept a mystery beneath waves of black cloth, he refused to reveal himself. Instead, he trotted further and further towards her, her only companion in the race for the sun.
Again, she asked, “Who are youze?”
He stopped in his tracks, mere feet from her.
Babs Seed took a step forward. A sudden gust of wind scooped sand from the ground and rushed between them, creating a barrier that irritated her eyes, making them water. Babs threw a foreleg over her eyes and squeezed them shut. She cursed, unable to see or move, vulnerable.
Her stranger breached the barrier and placed a forehoof on her shoulder. “Don’t you know who I am?” he asked, his voice a deeper baritone than that of any Ponyville stallion.
Coughing, she mumbled back, “I… I dunno! Dat’s why I asked youze! Where’s Apple Bloom? I thought she was gonna come wit’ me!”
Through her narrowed gaze, she detected the shake of a shadowy muzzle. “That’s for you to find out,” he replied, his tone steady, firm. “But, if you want to leave this place, you must take up your hooves and follow me.”
“I don’t even know who youze are!”
“That’s part of the mystery, isn’t it?”
Sandstorm blinding her still, Babs squeezed her eyes shut again. The stallion lowered his forehoof from her shoulder and sighed. “C’mon. You know what you want to do. You want to leave, and follow the horizon, and follow me.”
Enraged, she shouted over the desert’s mournful howl, “Who the hay are youze?! Make it stop! I wanna see! I wanna see who youze are!”
Chuckling, the stallion said, “The desert is a cruel mistress, Babs Seed…”
A flash of light in front of her eyelids, the wind’s final breath, and then, when she opened her eyes, Babs Seed was alone.
~
Babs Seed dreamt of the shadowy figure on the desert road for several days before he disappeared as mysteriously as he arrived. She tossed and turned in her sleep in his presence but did not startle herself awake. She thanked the Most High for this blessing, grateful she did not rouse Apple Bloom from her own slumber those nights. Sleep was their refuge, their gateway into Cloudsdale and Canterlot, and neither sought to disturb the other. It would be long before they would sprout wings or scrape together enough for a Canterlot ticket.
Dreams had been pleasant and restful for Babs Seed since her permanent arrival in Ponyville six years prior. These visions could not rightly be called nightmares, especially when compared to the shadows in her foalhood nights. However, she was at a loss to explain them, and chose not to worry her filly or her family with their contents.
~
Past the clubhouse she trotted, admiring her work. A year of relentless Nature had been unable to destroy that which she so lovingly crafted. Shame and pity that it had outlived its purpose. However, Apple Bloom hoped, perhaps someday, by the blessings of Celestia and Luna themselves, her own foals would run wild in that structure, crusading for their cutiemarks. Or maybe her nieces and nephews would. It was of little importance, the distinction.
All she knew was that she would forever be a Crusader. All she knew was that her adventures were not yet over.
Continuing past the clubhouse and towards the northern orchards, Apple Bloom let her thoughts wander aimlessly beyond the horizon. The sun was setting fast now, sending the heavens aflame with seas of yellow, orange, and red. What laid beyond it? Could she reach it? Could she reach it… alone?
Apple Bloom spun on her hindhooves. She was joined by a familiar form, and a smile streaked across her muzzle, happy to be alone no longer. “Howdy, Applejack.”
Applejack wrapped a forehoof around her sister in a quick sideways-hug. “Howdy, lil’ sis! Ain’t them orchards lookin’ mighty pretty this time o’ the year?”
Applejack matched her sister's pace, striding alongside her as she journeyed through the thicket of trees. Apple Bloom’s course was set for the highest hill on Sweet Apple Acres, the one that led to the train station and out of town.
Apple Bloom nodded and grinned. “Sure is, Applejack!” she exclaimed, genuine. “Why, Ah think they’re even stronger an’ mo’ beautiful than usual…”
“Well, o’ course they are!” Applejack rustled the filly’s mane playfully. “Now that Ah’ve got ya all grown up an’ helpin’ me—you an’ Babs both—nothin’ can stop us! That’s the Apple Family way!”
Apple Bloom paused, her hooves frozen in place. “C-come again, sis?”
“Heh, heh. Are ya goin’ deaf already?” Applejack teased. Nudging her sibling in the ribs, she repeated, “Ah said, things are mighty good now that you an’ Babs are all grown up. Now y’all can really start helpin’ me wit’ the farm! Nothin’ can stop us now! Ya, me, Babs, an’ Mac, all workin’ together on the family farm…”
Applejack paused, letting her words hang listlessly in the air, unfinished. Apple Bloom was frowning. “What’s wrong, lil’ sis?”
“Well, it’s jus’… Ah was kinda wantin’ ta go travelin’ fer a while,” Apple Bloom admitted, her eyes downcast, fascinated with the grass beneath her hooves. “Ah mean… Ah do love ya, Applejack, an’ Ah love the farm. It’s what Ah’ve always known, an’ Ah loved every minute o’ it. But Ah jus’ wanna see what’s out there, like Sweetie an’ Scoots have. An’ Ah think Babs does, too.”
Applejack took a few steps away from her, her emerald irises widening in horror. All she had feared was coming to pass, right before her eyes. Apple Bloom was leaving her. Babs Seed’s impending departure she could tolerate, but not her sister’s.
Hurt, Apple Bloom reached out to her sibling with a forehoof, pleading, “Applejack, please, don’t be mad… Ah thought ya knew, o’ ya would have a good idea o’ this—“
“Good idea o’ what?! That ma own sister wants ta abandon the family?!” Applejack snapped, backing further away still. “That she’s gonna leave everythin’ behind jus’ ta go chase her fillyfriend’s foalish dream?! What do y’all think yer gonna find anyway? It’s all sand an’ broken dreams! Jus’ as Manehatten was!”
“Yer not even givin’ it a chance! Yer not even—“
“Ah expected better from you, Apple Bloom.”
Applejack turned tail and galloped away, an orange blur expertly dodging tree trunks in her egress. Apple Bloom took to her own hooves to follow her. She hadn’t gotten far when the Earth itself opened its carnivorous maw, and she stumbled into a bottomless pit, beginning to fall, fall, fall…
She screamed for Babs Seed. This time, she wasn’t there to protect her.
~
Unlike her counterpart, Apple Bloom dreamt only of Applejack’s disdain and the murderous ground beneath her hooves once. Unfamiliar with such nightmares, she woke up that night in a cold sweat, her mane frazzled and knotted. Babs Seed, caught in the forehooves of the shadowy figure and his beckoning, did not awaken.
That night, smack-dab in the August heat, Apple Bloom wondered how soon the day would come. She could sense it with every fiber and ounce of her being. They had spoken little of the subject, keeping their pillow talk to lighter things. But she knew. Each letter from Canterlot or Cloudsdale served as a catalyst, spurring both of them to reconsider their own options.
Their friends had moved on, chasing their own dreams. Knowing that her only reply would be a shrug and a mutter of indecision, Apple Bloom resisted asking Babs Seed what hers were. In due time, she would know.
They would both know.
~
August rushed them by, a thief stealing away into the night. September soon followed. The last of the apple harvest was completed by two sets of young, spry, capable hooves. Applejack was more than impressed, and rewarded Babs Seed and Apple Bloom accordingly. Much-needed revenue began to flow in, and as October began to usher in autumn, Applejack breathed a sigh of relief.
Applejack's happiness was short-lived. Fall arrived with torrents and tempests, storms of tremendous magnitude, ripping shingles off the roof of both the farmhouse and the barn. The little buffer between coasting through winter and struggling to make ends meet evaporated with the latest repairs. Apple Bloom and Big Macintosh did all they could to fix the torn roofs, finding themselves empty-hooved. New shingles were ordered, and Applejack dreaded the winter that was sure to come.
Again, she told her wards that there would be no more pay. Anger dissolved into apathy, and there were no more confrontations at the Apple Family kitchen table. For now.
Autumn began to paint its broad brush across the farmland, strokes of red, yellow, orange, and brown, but Applejack found herself unable to truly rejoice. Winter was coming, and it would be long.
~
One dusk near the beginning of October, after a round of harvesting the last of the turnips, potatoes, and carrots with Big Macintosh, Babs Seed entered the farmhouse and trotted into the kitchen, her stomach rumbling. The scent of dinner rapidly boiling on the stove transfixed her. To an equal amount of surprise and disappointment, she found the table empty, except for a piece of rolled-up parchment. A scroll.
A scroll addressed to her.
Apple Bloom and Applejack busied themselves over the stove with dinner, oblivious. Babs Seed cleared her throat. Two mares jumped in their coats and turned around, chuckling nervously. “Oh! Hiya, Babs!” Apple Bloom greeted sweetly, smiling.
“’Ey. Who’s dis from?” Babs asked, pointing at the scroll.
“From Auntie, Ah think,” Applejack said, stirring a pot on the stovetop. “Weren’t in an envelope like normal, but Ah think it’s from her. Sorry dinner ain’t done yet. Me an’ Bloom been a might busy.”
Suspicious, Babs asked, “Wit’ what?”
“Nothin’,” dismissed Apple Bloom, forcing a grin. “Don’t worry. Dinner’ll be ready soon.”
I’m not worried ‘bout dat. I’m worried ‘bout how strange youze been lately. Quiet, distant, spendin’ a lot mo’ time wit’ Applejack than youze used ta. Hay, I don’t even see youze half o’ the workday anymo’. Babs snorted her skepticism . But maybe I should jus’ keep it ta maself. Afta all, I haven’t been entirely honest wit’ youze, eitha…
“Are ya alright, sugarcube?” Applejack frowned, noting Babs’ crestfallen countenance. “Ah’m sure Auntie only has good news ta share. Things are goin’ a tad betta out there in Appleloosa.”
Huh? Oh. Dat’s right. Thinking fast on her hooves, Babs snapped out of her haze and grabbed the parchment off the table. “Heh, right. Thanks, Applejack. Dat’s good ta hear.”
It was no lie, but it was no truth, either; finding that Appleloosa of all places was fairing better than Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres didn’t exactly tip the scales towards staying. And unbalanced scales made Babs’s relentless, circular thinking that much more unbearable.
Excusing herself from the kitchen, Babs ducked upstairs and closed her bedroom door behind her. She trotted over to the bed and slumped down against the sheets. She stretched, yawned, opened the scroll, and began to read.
“Babs,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to visit since your Graduation. Luck has finally smiled down upon us after all these years. I’ve found a steady job as an accountant for our general store. No more orchard work for me! It was great, but my back can’t take it anymore. You’ll understand when you’re older. Mares in our family all eventually have back problems, unfortunately…
Anyway. Braeburn is doing great work as a Deputy, earning a generous pay. The townsfolk love him, and I think he’ll give Silverstar a run for his money someday soon. Citrus is considering opening her own clothing store here in Appleloosa, and is working hard to save up the bits. The settler ponies are beginning to, well, settle here, and beginning to desire fine threads. You know (maybe even more than I do) that Citrus’s Canterlot days are over, but she still has an eye for fashion, the clever mare. I’m so proud of her.
And you. I’m so proud of YOU. You’ve grown up so much throughout these years, Babs… I just can’t believe it. You’re a mare now. You’re all grown up. (Well, actually, nopony ever really “grows up,” but you know what I mean, don’t you?) You can do anything you set your mind to; don’t let anypony tell you otherwise.
Which brings me to the ultimate reason for THIS particular letter. Babs, there are two things I wanted to tell you about. One of them I will not tell you until I see you again, face-to-face. I have been agonizing these past six years how to tell you this, and I think I am finally ready. But I won’t tell it to you through a letter. So, the next time you visit—or the next time I visit—we will have a talk, mother to daughter.
The other thing is simply news, word-of-mouth I am sure you have probably heard. Even further west than Appleloosa, there have simply been explosions of economy and resource. Gold and silver have been found again, long thought to be dried up. Oil, too. Ponies of all varieties and occupations are scrambling to get out here. Do you remember Allspice? She was in town the other day! It was so wonderful to see her. She’s working as a camp chef for several groups of miners out west in a little settlement called Yukon. You won’t find that on any map, but it’s there, Babs, and it’s growing. It’ll be a town before anypony bothers to write it down.
I know that you are as strong in spirit as you are in body, and I know that if you choose to do so, you can make it out here, Babs. I won’t lie. I would love to see you out here again. I miss you dearly. I often wish that we could come and live in Ponyville with you, Applejack, Mac, Granny, and Apple Bloom, but unfortunately that’s just not going to happen. I’ll explain more later.
Running out of ink… I love you and hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
~Mother
P.S. Apple Bloom can come with you out here, too. You know how I feel about that, but maybe… maybe, I’m wrong.”
Pupils incredulously wide, Babs Seed read and re-read her mother’s letter, unable to comprehend its contents on the first try. Once it had sank in, she jumped from the bed to her hooves, clutching the scroll tightly. She smiled so bright and wide her muzzle ached.
Excitedly, she crossed the room and opened the door, intent on barreling down those stairs and sharing the news with the rest of the family. Braeburn’s a deputy! Citrus is gonna open a store! Ma’s got a new job! An’ there’s lotsa jobs out there fo’ everypony! An’ gold, too! Gold! An’ Allspice is alive an’ well! An’—
Only a few steps from the threshold, Babs’ ears fluttered and pricked, catching the sound of hushed voices on the first floor. Huh? She trotted over and leaned against the railing of the second story, tilting her head to amplify the whispers below. Sure enough, indistinguishable murmurs escalated to faint whispers, and she was barely able to pick out the words of two fillies arguing with each other in the kitchen.
“… Ah jus’ don’t see why y’all wanna leave,” muttered Applejack, her words thick with anger.
Oh no.
“… Don’t know why you wanna argue this!” Apple Bloom countered, venom apparent, unrefined in her voice.
Babs fidgeted uncomfortably in her position but was unable to break away. Eavesdropping was not only foalish; it was dangerous. A storm was beginning to brew below her, two trains threatening to crash into each other. Babs Seed could not tear away, and stretched out on her belly, listening closer.
“Ah need… yer help. Both o’ y’all. Granny’s far too old ta be… much other than bakin’ o’…Zap Apple Jam.” Applejack's words faded in and out of her ears, although it was simple for Babs to fill in the blanks. So, she wants us ta stay an’ help. But, why then, wouldn’t she pay us? How’s dat one work?
“But, Applejack—“
“Ah know what yer goin’ ta say… can’t afford ta pay y’all… sales down… Manehatten… Manehatten’s the worst, nopony will buy our product anymo’… new contracts hopefully soon… please stay through the winter…”
Through winter? Dat’s pretty long... I dunno iffa I can do dat…
“Ah can’t promise nothin’… Babs an’ Ah—“
THUD!
“Ah said, stay through winter!”
Babs Seed jolted and rose to her haunches. The storm was approaching, and Apple Bloom was in the eye of it. Not iffa I have anythin’ ta do wit’ it, will youze—
Then came Apple Bloom’s voice, calm and serene. Unhurt. “Applejack, please… ya don’t understand…”
Babs Seed froze in mid-step down the stairs.
Apple Bloom continued, her words staccato, trembling, drifting through her filly’s startled ears. “Ah know ya want us ta stay… We already stayed ‘till harvest, that’s what Ah promised ya… Help as much as we can… might leave soon... Ah promised somepony else somethin’ Ah can’t break…”
“… But… Ah thought ya were gonna stay here an’ help. Help run the family business. Like Mac did. Like Ah did. Like Ma an' Pa did.”
Ice rushed through her veins and crystallized her muscles and bones, a statue in orange fur clinging to the railing of the stairs. No. Youze didn’t. Youze...
From the kitchen came a whimper, a soft, pitiful noise. Soon followed a barely audible squeak of a reply, its speaker clearly on the verge of tears. “Please… please don’t bring that up…”
A clip-clop of one set of hooves trotting towards another. A mournful silence. And then Applejack said it, it that would later keep Babs Seed up at night, going bump in her night, going insane in her night.
“Then… Please… please don’t leave me, Apple Bloom. Ah’m… Ah’m sorry… Ah jus’… Ah can’t handle losin’ ya both… losin’ ya the most…”
Unable to bear any more, Babs Seed turned around and escaped into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. The parchment in her forehooves soaked her tears perfectly. Soon, the ink ran and tangled and twisted, the words becoming unintelligible gibberish.
~
Memory, though it most likely flowed from her Orange past rather than her Apple present, was not one of Babs Seed’s weak points. Nevertheless, she willed herself to forget her mother’s words, to bury the calls of opportunity and reunion and rapture in Appleloosa and the badlands beyond.
Ponyville is ma home, she repeated to herself on an endless loop through plow and orchard and field and barn and sleep. For weeks on end, she chanted her mantra, as if she would believe it if she could just hammer it into her skull one more time. I’m not leavin’. I’m not leavin’. Applejack wants me ta stay heeya.
Bloom wants me ta stay heeya.
Which wasn’t exactly the case. Apple Bloom had never said such an awful thing. She didn’t need to.
Babs Seed dodged all sorts of bullets shot her way over those next few weeks, questions and concern from all others in the household, especially the one she loved the most. She buried her vagabond dreams. Gold, silver, and oil—and, more importantly, adventure and wanderlust—amounted to nil in the face of love and duty. Focusing on farmwork and family, Babs Seed hoped her dreams would fade, lost to the winds of time and change.
Overall, Babs Seed had everything she needed. A loving family, a loving mare, food on her table, a roof over her head, a duty and a purpose. She was second only to Big Macintosh in strength or endurance, a worker in the same right as him and Applejack, a part of Sweet Apple Acres's clockwork. Like any worthy gear, she could not suddenly cease, halting all action for her own selfish whims.
She had once been incomplete, holes riddling her soul and heart, and was now fulfilled. Perfect had arrived, casting away all partition. She was once a foal, and was now a mare. And it was time to let go of foalish things. She had once seen through the glass darkly, but now saw everything muzzle-to-muzzle.
She knew the truth now in part, but would soon know the entire story, just as she was known.
~
Babs Seed was running.
A foal once more, her tiny hooves thundered against the cobblestone, running down, down, down the Manehatten Hill. The wind caressed her mane and tickled her nostrils, wanting nothing more than to play with her. She was free. She was wild. She could do anything…
Babs Seed was watching the Buffalo run.
She was almost fifteen, sitting on her haunches beside her mother, confessing her true and sacred heart. Her mother was less than accepting. She brushed her rejection away, though her words tunneled through her chest, pure ice through her heart. Those words would keep her awake through more than a few nights, taunting her, whispering that certain things would never come to pass. Not with the blessing of her mother, the mare who mattered more to her than anypony else in Equestria. But it was alright. It was alright because she could watch the Buffalo stampede into the sunset, disappearing below the horizon, and they were free, and someday, she could be, too…
Babs Seed was reading her mother’s letter.
She was eighteen, arching her tired back into the full-sized bed she’d shared with Apple Bloom over six long years. It was becoming far too small. Everything on Sweet Apple Acres was becoming far too small, too confining, too routine and mundane and predictable and so, so, so suffocating. She toiled from dawn until dusk to “earn her keep,” finding her mason jar emptier than ever. She longed to chase her dreams at last, to follow the road, the edge of the edge, the horizon, the sunset, to just GO and see what she could find. With Apple Bloom beside her, of course. Six years had made them inseparable, if not in word, in heart. And she couldn’t fathom walking that road alone.
Her mother’s words urged her, the spark on the sagebrush, setting everything aflame. There was hope. There was work. There was possibility. Whereas Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres was stagnant and floundering, manipulated by the invisible hooves of the apathetic marketplace into oblivion, Appleloosa and beyond promised a new start, a fresh beginning, a lifetime of adventure…
Babs Seed was running.
Up, up, up the crest of the highest hill on Sweet Apple Acres she galloped, never looking back. A few personal momentos and supplies weighed her down, but only a little. Soon, she had crossed that hill and stood at the boundary of the farmland, gazing longingly towards the place she’d called home for the last six years of her life.
It would never be as beautiful as it was in that moment. Nor would it be as bittersweet.
Though she chased the sun into its void between the dimensions, uncovered the identity of her shadowy pursuer, struck gold in the sand, found a home with Braeburn, Citrus, and her mother, and tasted adventure—thick and sweet as honey—on her tongue, she did so alone.
She did so alone.
Babs Seed was running, running, running, catching her dreams and leaving Apple Bloom behind. And one night in the desert, she ran and ran and ran until she couldn’t run anymore.
She didn’t raise her forehooves to stop the Earth when it swallowed her. She accepted gravity and let herself be consumed.
She deserved it.
~
Babs Seed bolted upright in bed, clutching the blankets between her forehooves. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, searching within the darkness for a hint of oxygen and relief. She sputtered and coughed, her heart racing with the aftershock of adrenaline. Jus’ a dream… jus’ a dream…
No monster or shadowy figured cursed her slumber. No demon cackling through the great beyond swept upon her. Her antagonist was far more intangible. Her blood surged not with the commands of fight, but the urgency of flight, flight, flight, move, move, move. Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go NOW. Now, now, now, NOW.
Babs counted her breaths, crashing back down to Equestria.
Apple Bloom stirred next to her but did not wake. Oblivious to the interruption, she nuzzled her pillow in her sleep, visions of green and gold leading her to the higher plains. A grateful smile streaked across Babs Seed's muzzle. At least youze can sleep soundly. At least I didn’t wake youze up. Good. I think I need... need ta...
Unfinished, her thoughts played hide-and-seek, merging into the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against her window. Carefully, Babs Seed wrestled out of the covers and softly placed her hooves onto the floor. Mindful of her gait, she slowly crossed from one side of the room to the other, muffling her motion. Forehooves met windowsill and a muzzle pressed against the glass.
The Ponyville moon was full and glorious, radiant beacon in the night. Its warden, however, frowned upon Babs, snatching away her refuge. Youze dreams these past moons have been restless, an’ full o’ nightmares…
Never before had the moon shone this brightly. Well, perhaps that was a lie. There had been one other instance, one just as haunting and significant as this night. Then, the parish lantern had truly guided her out of the dark, out of the East, out of her tangled mess of roots and to someplace where there was no more hiding.
Six years ago, Babs Seed found a light to guide her home, and it pointed west. She’d made her choice. The right choice.
Six years past that dark night of the soul, Babs exhaled her indecision on her bedroom windowpane, circles of condensation proliferating on the glass with each passing second.
Autumn reigned triumphant on the farmland. Leaves in infinite branches transformed into shades of copper, gold, crimson, and vermillion. Soon, they would crash to the fields below, orchards stripped of foliage and blanketed by winter’s frost. The seasons never failed. They never would.
Rhythm and regiment were the cornerstones of Sweet Apple Acres. Planting season, Zap Apple Jam season, harvest season, cider season, winter’s slumber, Winter Wrap-Up, and on and on, ad infinitum, until Celestia and Luna laid down their crowns and let time arrest for eternity. Never would such a thing come to pass. Time and seasons would remain, outlasting their laborers, lording over all.
Babs cracked the window open, a cool rush of wind caressing her muzzle. She peered from the peripheral of her pupils, checking to ensure she hadn’t roused a sleeping beauty. Apple Bloom flipped over onto her back, snoring still. Good. Don’t wanna wake youze fo’ ma foalishness.
Inch by inch, Babs welcomed the night breeze, hanging her forehooves over the windowsill and ducking her head under the glass.
Satisfied, she exhaled a cloud of dragon’s-breath, a steady stream against the curtain of night. The barn and farmhouse slept peacefully. No timberwolves crept through the orchards. No intruders dared to sample their wares. Not a blade of grass grew out of place. Nopony tossed and turned from nightmares within the house. All was quiet on the Western front.
Too quiet.
Alright, maybe it’s mo’ than jus’ dreams, dis wanderlust. Maybe I can't bury it, she admitted, exasperated with herself. Maybe I am gettin’ restless. Maybe I can't wait anymo'. Maybe I'll leave. An’ soon. So soon. But why? Silva an’ gold? Oil? Adventure? Pfft. Ain’t dat jus’ foal’s dreams? I have everythin’ I could possibly want heeya. Dis place is ma home. I have everythin’ I need.
The constellations spelled out meaningless gibberish. The alicorn of the night did not escape from her lunar prison, searching the dreams of foals and foals alone for discord. No apparition of a bartender or barber magicked himself into existence on her shoulder. Though the moon was radiant and vibrant, it whispered no secrets, no wisdom from the chasms of the Earth.
Babs Seed stood on her hindhooves, alone. She did not awaken her better half. She remained, silent, stone as statue, letting a thousand moments in time race through her mind.
~
Apple Bloom creaked one eye open, her fiery-ruby iris shining in the moonlight. The gem glistened in Luna’s rays but suffered no discomfort. Light or noise hadn’t torn her from the Sandmare’s hypnotic forehooves. The absence of a familiar form beside her did.
That form leaned on her hindhooves, her head, shoulders and forehooves hanging out the window. Transfixed on some unknown object in the distance, she stared straight and true ahead, somewhere beyond the horizon.
Beyond the horizon. Apple Bloom had caught her mare fascinated with that division time and time again these past few weeks. Once harvest season had been completed, Babs Seed had grown distant, sleeping late, dragging through her chores, wandering over Sweet Apple Acres until the dusk called her inside. She withdrew from the others, dismissing questions posed by their elders. She was alright. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.
Between their sheets and their own whispers, Babs dodged her filly, assuring her there was nothing to worry about. She was just tired. She was just getting sick. She was just preoccupied for any number of reasons about any list of things. Although Apple Bloom inherited no Element of Honesty from her elder sibling, she could easily detect the white lies thrust towards her.
Babs Seed was not as good a liar as she used to be.
Something was wrong. Their few conversations would suddenly cease in mid-sentence, Babs’s own gemstones held hostage to the West again. Babs held her less and less, turning her back and her forehooves away. Their late-night sweet nothings amounted to little more than an exchanged “Good night,” and “I love you,” anymore.
Suspicion and dread roused Apple Bloom from her slumber. She had enough.
One of her hindhooves softly connected with the floorboards, bearing little weight. Babs’s left ear pricked immediately.
“Go ta bed, Bloom,” Babs muttered, unmoved from her position.
Ignoring her, Apple Bloom put all four to the floor and trotted up to the windowsill, placing her own hooves beside her filly’s. Though one side of her demanded she drag the elephant out from the room and beat the living daylights out of it, another part of Apple Bloom reckoned that would only end in disaster. So, instead, she chose a gentle inquiry.
“Why are ya up so late, Babs? Don’t ya know what time it is?”
Shivering, Babs snapped, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Apple Bloom raised a concerned brow. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.” Deadpan.
Apple Bloom shook her muzzle. The sum of all Equestrian wealth would never be enough to buy what Babs Seed was trying to sell her. She whispered, “An’ yer cold… yer coat’s so cold…” A forehoof ran across Babs's shoulders, fur chilled and clammy with sweat. “How long have ya been standin’ here?”
Sighing, Babs replied, “I don’t know.” Black of night beginning to fade to lighter shades of violet, she guessed, “Maybe an hour?”
“An hour?” Apple Bloom repeated. She stretched up on her hooves and stared her filly straight in the eye. Or attempted to do so. Babs refused to tilt or turn her way. Sighing, she asked, “Why didn’t ya wake me up? Somethin’ on yer mind?”
“Nope, everythin’s fine,” Babs dismissed.
“Then why are ya up?”
“I dunno. Jus’ go back ta bed, Bloom. Go back ta bed, alright? Please?”
Apple Bloom shook her head. “No.”
Towering over her, height and weight and muscle, Babs Seed around at last. She said it again, sternly this time, request evolving rapidly into an order. “Go back ta bed.” Don’t youze get it?
Apple Bloom stood firm, answering in the negative. She pressed her muzzle to her mare’s. The elephant couldn’t be dismissed anymore. Petty-talk-time was long over.
“Ah’m not goin’ back ta sleep until ya tell me what’s been botherin’ ya. Ah’m tired o’ ya dodgin’ me. Somethin’s wrong, an’ ya won’t tell me.”
Babs Seed didn’t reply.
Apple Bloom ran a forehoof through Babs Seed's mane, only to be quickly nudged away. She sighed. “Alright, fine. You don’t want me ta touch ya? Fine, Ah won’t.”
Apple Bloom backed away and tensed her hooves, frustration a match and spark settling the kindling of her suspicion afire. “Ya’ve been actin’ like this since we sold the last o’ the harvest fer the year. Ya keep spacin’ out on us, on me ‘specially. Ya won’t tell anypony what’s wrong. Yer startin’ ta drift away from me. Fer no good reason! An’ Ah’m tired o’ it. Yer gonna tell me what’s wrong, right now, Babs Seed.”
Apple Bloom had always been the smaller of them, the weaker, the slower, the late-bloomer. She was the first to apologize, the first to compromise, the first to cling to the other. A litany of adjectives and clauses could entrap her within their boundaries, reducing her to the more submissive of the two.
To think this, however, would be a mistake.
Stomping a forehoof for emphasis, Apple Bloom appeared all the stronger. She stood firm and fast, glaring through the dim light of the moon, waiting for some explanation, any explanation. Anything that would silence the taunting fear of her most secret heart. “Ah’m waitin’, Babs! Fess up already!”
Silence settled between them. This was not the familiar, comforting silence of friends or lovers. It was prickly around its edges, rough and alien, a hesitation that sent icy daggers through two thundering hearts.
Apple Bloom waited.
And waited.
Finally, Babs Seed stared at the floorboards and struggled to answer. “Bloom… I…”
“Ya what?”
“I…”
“Ya what?”
Babs swallowed, trying again. “I… I…”
Apple Bloom bounded forward and grabbed her by the muzzle, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Ya what, Babs Seed?”
Unable to stop herself, Babs blurted,“I heard what youze an’ Applejack were talkin’ ‘bout!”
Apple Bloom blinked. “… W-what?”
“When youze were in the kitchen! When I got dat letter a few weeks ‘go! I heard youze! I heard it all!”
Refusing to pause for a polite knock and an affirmation, a tear announced itself in the window of an emerald-green soul. Don’t, don’t, don’t, not heeya, not now…
Too late. Burying her muzzle in her hooves, Babs pushed Apple Bloom away, dropping her belly to the floor. Countless more joined the first intruder, tears running down her cheeks and staining the old wood grain below. “I h-h-heard y-youze t-two! S-she w-w-wants y-y-youze t-ta stay! An’ I k-know y-youze said iffa I g-go, youze would g-go, but—“
Sprawling on her stomach, Apple Bloom joined her, wrapping a forehoof around Babs’ shoulder. “So why are ya worried? Don’t ya believe me? Ah’m no Element o’ Honesty, but Ah can’t be that much o’ a liar, right?” she joked, forcing a chuckle.
One deep breath followed another, and then another, and then a third after that. By the fourth, Babs Seed was rolled onto her side, a set of gentle hooves wrapped around her from behind. “Shhhh. Take slow breaths. Shhhh. Ah’m here. It’s alright.”
“No it’s n-not, d-d-dammit!” Babs choked, pulling at her own mane.
Disgusted that she had even dared to take a menacing step towards the pony she loved the most, Babs gripped her own strands tightly, tugging, rejoicing in her wincing. Nopony could hurt Apple Bloom. Nopony. What’s wrong wit’ me? How could I even—
This time, Babs was the one who was knocked away, forehooves grasping hers and securing them on her chest. She allowed herself to be overcome. She was the stronger, after all. Wasn’t she?
It would be so easy for Babs to simply flex and fling Apple Bloom away, to trot and canter and gallop and just run, run for the hills, for the mountains, for the desert. It would be so easy to do that, anytime but the wretched now. Thoughts disjointed, a haphazard concoction of rotting fear and doubt and apprehension swirling in her consciousness, she was powerless now, sobbing, concealing her shame with Apple Bloom’s fetlocks.
Apple Bloom whispered in her nicked left ear, “Shhhh. Jus’ relax. It’s alright. Ah’m here. Ah’m not goin’ anywhere—“
Babs interrupted, “B-b-but I a-a-am.”
A pause. And then, “Oh?”
Swallowing her foalish sorrow, Babs Seed sniffed and craned her neck to the worried mare holding her close. Nodding, she muttered back, each word an act of Celestia itself, “I’ve… I’ve been wantin’ ta go… fo’ a while. Since the summer. An’… dat letta… it was from Ma. She wants ta see me… An’ lots o’ things are happenin’ out there… Big things, Bloom. Things I wanna be a part o’… But… I know Applejack doesn’t want us ta leave… I know she asked youze not ta leave—“
An' I can't be the one ta pry youze away from her... dat isn't right...
“Is that all ya heard from our conversation?” Apple Bloom asked. Another nod. She sighed. “Ah was afraid o’ that. Why didn’t ya tell me sooner?”
Wiping her tears on her own fetlocks this time (feeling slightly guilty at how damp her mare’s had become), Babs answered, “I wanted ta stop thinkin’ ‘bout it… I wanted ta see iffa I could jus’ let it go an’ be happy stayin’ heeya. An’ I am happy, I guess.”
“If ya only ‘guess’ ‘bout it, don’t ya think ya ain’t happy?”
“… I dunno. Maybe, I guess. But I wanted ta see iffa dis whole thing was jus’ a foalish dream o’ mine. Silva, gold, oil, goin’ west. Becomin’ a traveler. All dat junk,” Babs explained. “Youze see… it’s kinda like when I lived… in Manehatten. I used ta like ta run at night. I told youze dat, didn’t I?”
Apple Family memory neglecting to fail her, Apple Bloom said quietly, “Yes, Ah remember, sugarcube.”
“Alright. Well,” said Babs Seed, beginning to calm, “when I did dat, I felt free. Jus’ runnin’ an’ explorin’, no destination in mind. Even afta it got me in trouble, I still wanted ta do it. I stared out the window, jus’ like I was doin’ now, an’ I would think ‘bout how free I felt. Explorin’ new places, seein’ new things. But at home, surrounded by all dat luxury, an’ possessions, an’ havin’ everythin’ I wanted, I wasn’t happy. An’ then I came heeya fo’ Harvest Day an’ saw youze an’ how youze all lived, how happy youze were. That’s mostly why I came back heeya. I was so happy bein’ heeya.
“An’ I still am, in a way,” Babs said. “But…”
“Ya wonder what else is out there, an’ ya want ta see it. Ya want ta experience it. Ya want ta be… free,” finished Apple Bloom, nuzzling her neck softly.
Babs sighed. “Those are such stupid reasons, aren’t dey?”
Apple Bloom shook her head, leaning against her mare. “No. Ah don’t think so. Everypony's gotta get out an' explore, don't they? Applejack went ta Manehatten when she was jus’ a foal ta see how Auntie an’ Uncle Orange lived. Don’t ya remember?”
“Yea, dat’s right… but, iffa dat’s true, why did she say she wanted us ta stay? Why wouldn’t she want us ta explore, too?”
Apple Bloom whispered back, her breath hot in her mare’s disfigured ear, “Ah dunno, sugarcube. We never talked ‘bout that part, 'bout explorin'. All Ah know is that she’d rather have at least one o’ us stay an’ help her. But ya missed out on the rest o’ the conversation, darlin’.”
“An’ what was the rest?”
“Ah told her that Ah understood, but Ah’ve got ma own dreams ta chase. Ah love her, an’ Ah love you, an’ Ah want y’all both ta be happy. But Ah’ve got itchy hooves too, Babs. Ya really think after all that crusadin’, tryin’ all kinds o’ things, that Ah’d jus’ be okay doin’ the same damn things over an’ over again?
"Plus,” Apple Bloom added, “Ah wanna get closer ta Auntie, an’ Citrus, an Braeburn. Ah wanna see the settlements, face the frontier. Ah wanna see what’s beyond the horizon, too. It’s history, Babs, what’s goin’ on out there. We can be a part o’ history. We can make our mark. Jus’ think o’ it. Gold, silver, oil, all kinds o’ ponies out there, all kinds o’ sights… everythin’ new, an’ clean, an’ blank, an’ real.
“An’ ya know what?”
Babs Seed flipped over to face her, muzzle-to-muzzle close. “What’s dat?”
Apple Bloom said, “Ah want ta see it all wit’ you. Ah not only promised that Ah would follow ya inta the dark. Ah want ta.”
“Are youze sure?”
Gripping her forehooves in sincerity, Apple Bloom answered, “Yes. Yes, Babs. Ah’m sure.
“Ah’ve never been so sure o’ anythin’ else.”
~
Daylight extinguished the fireflies and the stars, sending them back into their retreat and refuge. The rain halted its downpour, the clouds parting and revealing the promise of a new dawn, a new sun, a new star. Although it was the same one that always rose over the face of the deep, today, as it shone on the horizon, it signaled the beginning and end for two fillies on Sweet Apple Acres.
Applejack heard the commotion from the bedroom next door, hasty packing in the morning, drawers slammed shut, closet doors thrust open in urgency. She yawned and ran a brush quickly through her mane. Securing her Stetson on her head, the mare exited her bedroom and trotted down the stairs. Within a few minutes, she brought a pot of oatmeal to boil on the stove and set the table. Each and every monotonous motion bore the burden of Equestria upon her back. She focused on the tasks at hoof, pretending she hadn’t heard what she’d thought she’d heard.
So it came to this. She expected it from Babs Seed. After all, nopony but a foal who’d snarled in the muzzle of Death itself could have made the choice that she had. Apple Bloom, however, was a different story.
Though courageous in her own right, her determination a source of supreme pride and praise in Applejack’s eyes, Apple Bloom was not the reckless, wild, untamed force of nature that was Babs Seed. Apples they both were—they all were—but Babs was the boldest of them all.
Yes, Applejack—one of six Elements of Harmony, one savior of Equestria—acknowledged her cousin and ward for what and who she was. The shield on her flank and the nick in her ear spoke of power, courage, and sacrifice. She would be fine in the badlands, in the mines and oil fields, in the unforgiving Appleloosian heat.
Imagine, then, Applejack’s utter shock when two fillies emerged from the second level, a saddlebag on each back, full to bursting. If Applejack hadn’t already set the table, she would’ve ruined their finest silverware, sending it clattering to the floor and stomping it underhoof in her canter.
Meeting them in front of the kitchen table, Applejack exclaimed, “What in tarnation are y’all doin’?!”
Confused, Babs Seed looked to Apple Bloom, who offered no answers. Cautiously, Babs replied, “Uh, gettin’ breakfast?”
“No!” Applejack shook her muzzle rapidly. Pointing at their saddlebags, she demanded, “Why are ya lookin’ like yer packed ta go join the circus o' somethin'? Where are y’all goin’?!”
Apple Bloom began, “Applejack, calm—“
“Down,” interrupted a husky baritone. Big Macintosh strode through the living room, chewing on the end of a single stem of wheat. His coat was slicked with morning rain. “Ah heard yer hollerin’ from outside, AJ. Ya need ta calm down.”
“’Calm down?!’ What’s this look like ta ya, Mac? Look at ‘em!”
The stallion answered flatly, “Looks like they packed their bags fer somethin’.”
“Exactly!” Applejack snapped, glaring at him. Turning to her cousin and sister, she asked, “An’ where, exactly, are y’all goin’?”
“Well, Applejack, heh, we were gonna tell youze—“
“We’re leavin’,” Apple Bloom said.
Silence among the four. One of them breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thank youze, Bloom.
Applejack stammered, “N-n-now?! T-today? Ya can’t be serious. It’s almost winter! An’ where are y’all goin’, anyway?”
“Ta Appleloosa, first,” Babs answered. “An’ afta dat, we don’t know. But we’ll find out.”
Narrowing her eyes at her sister, Applejack began, “Ah thought we already discussed this, Bloom.”
“An’ Ah told ya ma answer then, don’t ya remember? An’ it’s no different than now,” Apple Bloom said, standing firm. “Babs wants ta go, an’ Ah want ta go, too.”
Shaking her muzzle in protest, Applejack countered, “Yer jus’ gettin’ blindsided by—“
“AJ, that’s enough.”
Big Macintosh stomped towards Applejack, placing his towering form between her and the fillies. Pointing accusatorily with a forehoof, he said, “You should be ashamed o’ yerself! Tryin’ ta stop ‘em from goin’ out an’ havin’ adventures an’ findin’ themselves when you did the same thing! An’ as a foal ya did it! Do ya have any idea how worried Granny an’ Ah were when ya left?! Ah thought Ah was neva gonna see ma sister ever again!”
Applejack backed away, staring at the tile, removing her Stetson and circling it in her forehooves. “M-Mac… Ah… Ah never knew—“
“’Cuz Ah didn’t guilt trip ya like yer doin’ ta them!” The stallion gestured to the two fillies standing close behind him, their expressions a mixture of relief and resentment. “Ah know things aren’t goin’ so well ‘round here, but it’s not their fault! Yer jus’ drivin’ ‘em away! An’ if yer not careful, ya will drive ‘em away, AJ. Is that what you want?”
Applejack hung her head in shame. It had been many, many, many years since she’d last been scolded by her older brother. She’d done many foolhardy things in the years hence, but Big Macintosh had stayed trademark silent, watching from afar. But he couldn’t turn a blind eye to this spectacle.
Applejack was scrambling to keep the farm and her own dreams alive—her own dreams of passing Sweet Apple Acres to Apple Bloom, to the next generation, a time she feared may never come to pass. In the process, she was pushing Babs Seed and Apple Bloom away, working their hooves into the ground, living vicariously through them.
Sibling and cousin did not share Applejack's dream. Their hooves itched and their eyes pointed longingly towards what laid beyond all they knew and towards all they dreamt of finding. They were their own ponies now, captains of their own souls. They had their own dreams to chase, however reckless and foalish they were. The call of the wild and of wanderlust was a strong and often unbreakable one.
Yes, Applejack realized, Apple Bloom was truly a mare, and Babs Seed, too. And she could do nothing but bless them.
Regaining her composure, Applejack secured the Stetson on her head and offered a weak smile to the three ponies scowling before her. “Ah’m sorry, y’all… Ah’m jus’ worried ‘bout the farm… Ah want ta pass it down ta ya, Apple Bloom, someday. Ah want it ta be yers… Ah… Ah don’t ever see maself havin’ foals. Ah guess… Yer all Ah’ve got in that sorta way. Ah jus’ worry.”
Babs Seed trotted forward and wrapped her forehooves around Applejack, embracing her. Startled, the mare returned the gesture, holding her tight. “Heh, Babs, are ya—“
“Don’t worry, Applejack,” Babs Seed said, releasing her. “I’ll take good care o’ her. We'll be back someday, maybe soon. Don’t youze worry. An’ she’ll take care o’ me too. Afta all,” she began, winking her mare, “she’s the betta half o’ us.”
The four of them shared a good laugh.
“Well, all Ah know is if ya run inta any timberwolves o’ coyotes, y’all should be alright,” Applejack joked, injecting a little more humor into the atmosphere. “Ever thought ‘bout joinin’ Royal Guard, Babs? Ah bet Twilight o’ her brother could help ya wit’ that.”
“Heh, well… I dunno. Maybe someday. Fo’ now, I need ta go see Ma, Citrus, an’ Brae, then go check out those… What's the matta, Apple Bloom?”
Forehooves crossed, Apple Bloom huffed as she said, “Don’t ya mean we need ta go see Auntie, Citrus, an’ Braeburn?”
Laughter again shattered their tension, their previous scuffle forgiven in a wave of baritone, alto, and soprano chuckles. “Yea,” Babs Seed affirmed, giggling. “Yea, we need ta.”
~
Pointing their hooves towards the train station, Babs Seed and Apple Bloom cherished every hoof-step out of Sweet Apple Acres, knowing it would not be their last. Up and down the hills they trotted, taking in all sight, sound, smell and taste of that autumn morning.
They waved continuous forehooves goodbye to Granny Smith, Applejack, and Big Macintosh as they trotted off into the distance, their ribs aching from being hugged so tightly. A set of saddlebags each threatened to slow their pace, loaded down with food, water, supplies and a few momentos. So far, they continued, strong as ever, heads held high against the face of the wind.
All fear vanquished, all trespasses forgiven, and all family intact, they traversed on their path, stopping along the way to bid farewell to their remaining friends. Tears were shed, well wishes were spoken, and advice was provided, taken dearly to heart and hoof.
They arrived at the train station around mid-day and purchased two tickets to Appleloosa. Applejack had reached deep into her own bit-jars for the loan, insisting that they forego Babs’s plan of walking there. They initially refused the bits, but Applejack was not one to be denied. Babs vowed to return the favor once they were strong on their own hooves. Don’t youze worry, Applejack. I’ll pay youze back, tenfold.
A few hours stood between them and their train, but the mares didn’t mind.
Equestria was now theirs to explore. What laid beyond the horizon, mysterious and beautiful, beckoned, summoned, a magnetism neither could deny. One’s polarity was due to the ancient call of codon and chromosome, nomadic tendency rushing through her blood; the other’s was borne of wonder, curiosity, and love.
Soon, Babs Seed and Apple Bloom would come to find which was thicker—blood or love—beyond the horizon.