//------------------------------// // Eat the Clouds // Story: Bad Apples // by Lidocaine Varnish //------------------------------// Bad Apples Eat the Clouds Apple Jack didn’t want to wake up. She was cold. Her senses returned to her slowly. She smelled damp, rotting wood, and wet earth. Her body ached from the cold. She was on the ground, beneath an oilskin slicker, hard up against a large, rotting log. Apple Bloom had been huddled against her most of the night, sobbing quietly beneath the slicker. Occasionally she’d leave, gathering snow to hold against Apple Jack’s face. For the most part, Apple Jack had been able to remain somewhere between unconscious and sleeping fitfully. The snow felt good against her swollen face. Apple Bloom had wanted to go back for Granny Smith. Apple Jack had been able to drag her away—it was too late for Granny Smith. Apple Jack fought the urge to curse at the aches and pains she was feeling. She didn’t know where Apple Bloom had gone. When she stuck her head out from under the slicker, she let out the slew of curses she’d been holding in reserve. The brightness hurt her eyes, hurt her face more as it forced her to squint. Tried to squint—her face was so swollen that it wasn’t able to squint. It hurt plenty as it instinctively tried. Her eyes throbbed with the light coming from the overcast sky. Patches of snow all over the wet ground threw more light at her. The wet, black, bare trees offered no sympathy…no shade, no respite from the scattered light pelting her from every direction. The forest was a world of mud, soggy snow, bleak skies, and dead winter trees. Apple Jack plodded dully toward the farmhouse. Toward what had been the farmhouse. Apple Bloom was sitting, staring at the remains of the cabin. She’d already been busy—some of their belongings had been dug out of the ashes. Anything she found that had any use left in it had been placed in a pile. Some of the still-usable timbers from the house had been nudged into another pile; furniture and timbers too smashed or burned to be usable had been pushed into another pile. Still other timbers had been pushed up into a small campfire, before which she still sat. Apple Jack estimated that the fire was just a couple of hooves to the inside of where their front door used to be. “You all right, sugar cube?” Apple Jack asked uselessly. Ignoring the question, Apple Bloom replied, “Sis, you’re gonna tell me EVER’THIN’ you know ‘bout Paw’s shootin’ ahrns.” A long silence followed. Apple Jack trod up to warm herself at the fire, sitting down. She shifted to cuddle against Apple Bloom. After a time, Apple Jack asked again quietly, “So how’re you doin’, sugar cube?” Apple Bloom’s eyes were reddened, but dry. “Ah’m tired a cryin,” she said. “I guess I’ve cried enough—I’m done with it.” After a moment, she added, “Bout the same’s you, I reckon,” with a rueful smile. “Better’n you, if you count the face.” Apple Jack let out a laugh that was as much a cough. “Granny Smith’s over there. Near where her rockin’ chair used t’ be.” “Oh, I’m sorry, sugar cube,” Apple Jack said, hitting her own forehead with a hoof. “You oughtn’t have to’ve seen that.” “It ain’t her,” Apple Bloom said simply. “It’s only what she left behind.” “You’re raht.” Then Apple Jack snickered. She paused, smiling at a memory. “She blooded one’ve ‘em…smacked ‘im raht’n’a nose. Blooded ‘im good.” She added soberly, “Th’ last thing she said was, ‘I’ll see your souls trampled in hell bah Nahtmare Moon.’” They both smiled. “Said it with such strength ‘n’ conviction, one of the Pegasi dropped a pie on the floor right where ‘e stood.” Apple Bloom smiled broadly, proudly at Granny Smith’s spirit. “’f anypony can lay a curse and make it stick, ol’ Granny Smith’d have the power to,” she said. Apple Jack nodded. “They stomped her to death after that,” she said. “We’re gonna need a place to sleep,” Apple Jack said. “’Course they set fahr to the barn ‘n’ shed…bastards even caved in’a root cellar,” Apple Bloom glowered. “’Guess they din’t think it’d burn ‘nuff,” she spat. “They even torched th’ chicken coop an’ th’ fucking SPRING HOUSE.” After spending the night huddled under a slicker, the root cellar would’ve been downright cozy. It stayed the temperature of the earth, while the temperatures above ground plummeted with night. “Quickest’d be ta scratch a dugout inta the side of a hill,” Apple Jack speculated. “Far from here.” Apple Jack looked at her sister. “’N case they come back.” “Raht. Good thinkin’.” Apple Jack stroked her chin with a hoof. “How ‘bout that little holler you used to play with yer dolls in? It’s not too close, not too far…small and out of the wind, but with good drainage.” “Yeah!” “Be a pain ta drag th’ stove up in ‘ere, but we kin take the panels apart.” Apple Jack was warming to the idea. “Maybe th’ trees’ll break up the smoke some…sure won’t be easy for anypony t’ find.” “Ah lahk that,” Apple Bloom agreed. “That’s why I lahked to keep my dolls there.” Apple Bloom thought a moment. “You don’t think we should leave the farm, do you?” she asked darkly. “It’s been the family farm o’er a hunnert years,” Apple Jack said slowly. “And Ah’d like t’ be here ‘f…’f….” Neither of them wanted to say “If Big Mac comes back.” They buried Granny Smith, commending her soul to Luna and the Earth. They wished for something more permanent than a wooden plank to mark the spot, but it would serve for the time being. They retrieved Paw’s guns from the ashes—a Sharps’ rifle and a .44 Colt Walker cap-and-ball revolver. The Sharps had fared well, but the pistol required some disassembly and cleaning. Apple Jack had to smile at the irony—Paw’d bought the Sharps in case there was any trouble with the Buffalo…but the only use it should’ve seen would have been against a renegade squad of Pegasus Solar sky infantry. Apple Jack was chagrined that the bullets had melted and mingled together, the lead shiny from its recasting into a rectangular shape formed by the cardboard box they’d been in. Some of the powder was still good, and before night fell they made use of the “daylight” to inspect the percussion caps and set aside a hoof’s full of them that seemed undamaged by the heat. After dark, once settled into whatever shelter they could muster, maybe she’d be able to recast some of the lead back into bullets. They were able to drag a patch of un-burned roof away from the site of the cabin into the ravine, and scratched out a good depression in the side of the hill. They made a hollow large enough for the two of them to sleep in, huddled together for warmth, and covered the floor with the driest of the leaves and pine needles they managed to find. They nudged a huge rock up in front of it to build a fire against. It would reflect some of the heat back at them, and shield the fire from anypony’s view. There wasn’t much to eat, save for a cake of oats that’d once been oatmeal, cooked into the shape of a puck from the heat of the house burning down. It was dusted generously with black and gray ash. It seemed a fitting repast. They’d found a couple of singed blankets. Shaking some branches free of snow, they spread them and dried them somewhat from the muddy ash they’d been mired in. It was long after dark before they finished cobbling together the crude shelter. After a day of toil and how they’d spent the previous night, it was as cozy as a feather bed. They’d been busy all day…but now, lying in bed, they had nothing to think about but their current situation. The fire was warm. Although the cold seeped in around them, they had a roof over their heads (if no walls). They had covers…their trusty slicker formed the top layer, to ward off any moisture or wind-driven snow. Huddled together, they had warmth. Sleep was long in coming. Tired of brooding over her thoughts, Apple Jack began to speak. “I wonder if Big Mac didn’t feel that somethin’ was comin’.” “How d’ya mean?” “A couple of nights before the SA came to take him, he was talking to me. Wanted to tell me something Paw told him. I didn’t think nuthin’ of it at the time…but it was kinda creepy a couple days later when he was gone.” “He said Paw told it to’m…said it was passed down from father to son. Seein’ as there weren’t no Apple males in the Holler t’share it with, he wanted t’share it with me. Said it was important, and somepony else in the family should know it.” Apple Jack laughed. “And now I’m tellin’ it ta you. I hope it don’t mean I’m gonna be gone in a couple of days.” “Don’ even say that,” Apple Bloom said dourly. “Anyway…if this ain’t the time ta share it, I don’t know what would be.” “It’s about Earth Ponies, and their place in the universe.” “You know how they say that Earth Ponies have a special kind of magic that makes them able to do things with the earth?” “Yeah?” “Well that’s bullshit.” “We have an affinity with the Earth ‘n’ all, but it’s not magic. It’s not magic like the Unicorns have, and it ain’t magic like the Pegasi have to walk on their clouds.” “You know the story about where ponies come from…how Celestia created the Pegasi. She took air and water—clouds—and shaped them into a pony with wings. She couldn’t make a pony as powerful as herself, but she was able to make a pony with wings, and give it the magic it needed to live in the sky.” “She liked the Pegasus…so she tried to make a different kind of pony. She took air and light, and mixed them together. She shaped them into a pony with a horn, and gave it magic. She couldn’t give it both magic AND wings, but she could give it magic…in its horn.” “Luna saw the ponies her sister had made, and she wanted to make a pony, too. She wanted to outdo her sister…she wanted to make the strongest pony she could…a pony stronger than the ones her sister had made.” “She’d seen how Celestia made her ponies out of air and water, and out of air and light.” “Now there were ponies with wings, so she couldn’t make a pony with wings and call it her own. There were also ponies with horns, so she couldn’t make a pony with a horn, and call it her own.” “She went into the Earth, and gathered up iron.” “Luna made her ponies out of iron, so they’d be the strongest, toughest ponies around.” “That’s why an Earth pony is stronger than any other pony of the same size. Without wings or magic, an Earth pony can easily beat a Pegasus or a Unicorn at just about any task.” “That’s also why we can’t fly,” Apple Jack added with a laugh. “Luna looked at her work. She wanted more than strength and endurance for her ponies. She couldn’t give them horns or wings…she had to give them something unique. Something that could be their own.” “She also saw that without wings or magic, they’d always have to do things the hard way. They had the strength and endurance for it, but that wasn’t enough. Not enough for Luna—not good enough for Luna’s children” “So Luna gave her ponies…gave us…something that Celestia never gave to her ponies.” “Luna gave us the knowledge of how things work.” “The Unicorns had knowledge—they had knowledge of magic, and could write about it. The Pegasi had knowledge of the clouds and weather. But Luna gave all the rest of the knowledge to the Earth Ponies.” “Now, this wasn’t part of Celestia’s plan. Nopony was supposed to have all the knowledge; nopony was supposed to have as much knowledge as Luna gave to her children. Celestia was angry…and that’s one of the reasons she exiled Luna to the moon.” “We have something better than magic. Magic can fail…but the world will ALWAYS work as it does.” “The Unicorns made fireworks…toys for the sky that flash and make noise. It took an Earth pony to put it inside a barrel of steel, and make a gun. Sharps? Colt? Winchester? Gatling? All Earth Ponies. Pegasi never made guns. Unicorns never made guns. Unicorns had gunpowder…but WE make the guns.” “Wonder what they called it before we invented guns?” They both giggled. “But we have the knowledge of such things…we can do more with less. We can make our tasks work in harmony with the world, so we can get more done with less effort…make the world do some of our work for us. Without magic. Without wings.” “We have knowledge. We have invention—creativity and understanding.” “When Luna gave us this knowledge, she gave us the future.” “Celestia wanted to keep things in balance, and gave her children what she gave them. Luna’s children…you take a look at them. At first, we seem to have less. We don’t have magic. We can’t fly.” “But our knowledge grows. It gives us the tools to unlock other secrets. We can do things the other ponies can’t—and not only because of strength. It’s because we see the world differently than they do. We know more about its workings than they do.” “We grow the crops. We work the iron. We build the engines, we build the machines.” “The other ponies…the Pegasi and Unicorns…they can do these things. But it’s always the Earth Pony who figures it all out…who SHOWS ‘em how to do it.” “The future belongs to the Earth Ponies. The Earth belongs to the Earth ponies…and the Earth Ponies belong to the Earth.” “Wow,” Apple Bloom marveled. “Ah never thought ‘bout it like that.” Apple Jack nodded. “Me, neither…’til he told me.” The coming of the Pegasi had destroyed most of their preparations for Winter, not to mention their home. Even building the modest home they planned with an economy of effort, there was a lot of work to be done. The work kept them warm during the day, and they were able to sleep as well as possible during the night. By the time Hearth’s-Warming Eve came, at least they had a hearth to warm. It was a small dugout-cabin, and offered at least a representation of every comfort they’d had in their generations-old farmhouse…if not space. There was one room in the cabin, formed by three walls that were mostly the sides of a hole dug into the earth. They’d built a front wall and a few hooves’-worth of wall all the way around to offer some headroom, and a roof over it all. They had both a fireplace and their iron stove, salvaged from the house. One end of the cabin, near the door, was the kitchen, and the far end, which was shorter, was a space to sleep. A crude wooden table separated the bedroom from the kitchen. There were a couple of small windows made from the few unbroken panes of glass that’d been salvaged from the house. They’d found a few bits (currency) in the ashes of the house that the Pegasi had missed, and were able to clean off a few items to barter for some flour and a couple of bales of hay. The hay would serve both as mattress and food. “Breakfast ‘n’ bed,” Apple Jack had joked in a rare moment of mirth. Apple Jack was proud, and Apple Bloom was indifferent; they didn’t seek any help from their neighbors. Everypony in the hollow would’ve been happy to help them out…but they preferred to suffer and toil themselves, without assistance. The labor helped them cope, and they wanted to be alone with their sorrow. It was unspoken between them, but the more time that passed after the attack, the easier it would be to explain the fire as an accident, and avoid saying anything that might lead to any suspicion that the sexual assault had even happened. They didn’t know quite what they’d do if either of them had been gotten with foal. What served as the center of town was a trodden street and four buildings; two buildings, really, but each had a detached kitchen associated with it. The smaller of the two was Dry Goods' Store, which served as store, restaurant, post office, and informal meeting place for the town. The larger of the two was Town Hall, which served to house any formal town meetings or celebrations, as the school house, and as overnight accommodations for anypony traveling through or visiting. The Town Hall’s only current regular resident was Miss Vellum, the new Unicorn schoolmare. The last schoolmare had retired several years ago, and Miss Vellum was betrothed to one of the Hollow’s residents, Clay…or Clayton, as he’d recently started asking everypony to call him. As an outsider (having been brought to the hollow by Clay—ton), she was the only Unicorn amongst the ancestral homes of all the Hollow’s Earth-Pony families. Postwar tensions between Unicorns and Earth Ponies weren’t usually as great as those between Pegasi and Earth Ponies. Although usually serving Solar Army forces, most Unicorns kept a lower profile than the Pegasi, and were perhaps better educated and more…tactful. Most of the Hollow’s residents had gathered in Town Hall for the Hearth’s-Warming Eve party…or were on their way. Neither Apple Jack nor Apple Bloom were feeling the spirit of the season very much…but they were both desperate to have SOMETHING be a distraction from their lives. Apple Bloom spotted some school friends, and plodded off in their direction. Not really knowing what to do with herself, Apple Jack stepped to the side, out of the traffic flow from the door, and idly surveyed the room. Dry Goods appeared out of the crowd. “Evenin’, Miss Apple. Happy Hearth’s-Warming Eve,” he said genially. “Happy Hearth’s-Warmin’ Eve,” Apple Jack mumbled. Dry Goods was a handsome colt, very sober and not much given to talking. He’d taken over the store two winters ago, when his father had died of pneumonia. Gossip was traded in his store almost more than bits and goods, but Dry Goods spent most of his time listening. For his pensiveness, many regarded him as intelligent (not in a negative way), and sometimes sought his advice. Out of all the tales bouncing around his store, he tried to distill the truth for anypony who asked him or came around looking for news. “Some punch? Got the reg’lar punch, and the grownup-punch,” he held up a mug and a glass. “I reckon the grownup-punch’d be mighty agreeable…thank ya.” He offered the glass and she took a sip. They stood quietly for a minute, suddenly simultaneously excusing themselves from one another with a polite nod. “Mares and Gentlecolts,” the mayor began, raising her voice. “I’d like to wish you all a warm welcome, and a happy Hearth’s-Warming Eve!” Apple Jack took another sip of punch. It was potent, but smooth. She felt like a dark mote floating at the edge of a bright constellation. She tried to shed her darkness, and open herself to the happiness of the ponies surrounding her, celebrating the holiday. Her attention drifted around. She took another sip. Her eyes began to feel big, and her head kind of floaty. The mayor’s voice faded away, and she found herself listening to the ponies immediately around her. “…bought him some land down in the valley, swept a society Unicorn off her hooves at her deb’tant ball. Wants to be a ‘’spectable’ valley pony.” “’Bout abducted her, Ah hear tell,” laughed another pony. “Guess he’s just too good for us anymore,” sighed another, but not maliciously. Another shook his head. “You know Clay…shoes always too big for his hooves….” “Not sure I lahk havin’ a Un’corn in the Holler,” piped in a grouchy voice. Apple Jack had never met Miss Vellum…Apple Bloom had said she was “nice.” “Miss Vellum!” boomed the mayor’s voice suddenly, shaking Apple Jack from her reverie. Murkily from what she’d been half listening to, she surmised Vellum would be telling the traditional Hearth’s-Warming Eve story. “Thank you, Mayor Mare,” said Vellum, launching into a breathy greeting and warm wishes for the holiday. Vellum was a pretty filly…a Unicorn with a snowy, sparkling white coat. She was younger than Apple Jack would’ve suspected…barely a hoof’s full of years older than Apple Bloom, and maybe a hair younger than Apple Jack herself. Apple Jack’d never really MET a Unicorn before, except maybe briefly in passing, on a trip down to the valley for supplies. Her speech was formal and crisp, but not ostentatiously so. She used some large words, but did so naturally—she wasn’t putting on airs expecting people to be impressed by them—they were just the words she used. “…story of Chancellor Pudding Head and Smart—“ Vellum was saying. “Puddin’ PIE!” shouted the voice of a young foal from the audience. “Cook—I’m sorry?” Vellum said. A voice far in the back of the room, sounding a little more hostile than the speaker intended, corrected, “The Chancellor’s name was Puddin’ PAH...not Puddin’ Haid….” A murmur rolled about the room. Vellum recovered, and covered, quickly. “Of course—I’m sorry. Chancellor Pudding Pie and Smart Cookie.” She cleared her throat. Before continuing, she asked, “Did I get any of the other names wrong?” “You kin call the Peg’si ‘birdshit’ fer all Ah care—ow!”called a colt’s voice from the back of the room. The filly he was with had smacked him lightly in the head…but his remark elicited some giggles from the gathered crowd. “Uh…ma’am,” he added, bashfully. “Maht make the storeh more ‘njoyable,” remarked a voice that sounded like an older stallion, triggering a few more titters. Vellum’s grin wasn’t as brittle as it might have been. She coughed, covering what almost sounded like a sputter. “I’m not sure I’m as well acquainted with the story as I thought I was,” she was saying quietly to Mayor Mare. Everypony knew the story. As a Unicorn, she’d just never heard the way it was told by the Earth Ponies. “Tell us the story ‘bout Puddin’ Pah an’ the Griffon!” called the possibly drunken voice of a colt too old to be listening to the little foal’s tale he was asking for. Cries of “Yeah! Puddin’ Pah an’ the Griffon!” sounded from about the room. A chorus of young foals began to chant, “Puddin’ Pah an’ the Griffon!” in unison. “I don’t know that one,” Miss Vellum said. “I’d love to hear it, though…somepony?” Vellum stepped back as another mare volunteered, and started making her way out of the audience. Despite her poise, Vellum looked grateful to be able to flee the stage. Apple Jack had finished her punch. Making her way to a different table, she found a warm bowl of mulled “grownup” apple cider, and ladled her glass full. “…time before the Griffons and Pegasi were as good friends as they are now….” Miss Vellum had drifted back into the audience, taking a station near the punch bowl. She sipped demurely from a glass balanced clumsily on her hoof. She seemed reluctant to use the magic to drink, as she customarily would have. She’d been uncomfortably aware enough at the stares she’d attracted using her magic to manipulate the ladle…a task of a complexity she dared not attempt with bare hoof. She was trying to disappear into the audience. “…Chancellor’s best friends, the Griffon Skar….” “CAW! CAW!” screamed the foals in the loudest chorus they could muster, accompanied by some of the drunker adults. Miss Vellum jumped, unprepared for the audience-participation part of a story she’d never before heard. “…Chancellor Puddin’ Pah…” “WOO! WOO!” “…knew that the Earth Ponies didn’t have any more love for the Pegasi than they had for the Griffons. They were tired of slaving away to feed the Pegasi, and didn’t want to give them even MORE food so they could wage war on the Griffons. Some of the Earth Ponies were even friends with Griffons, and didn’t want to help anypony who wanted to attack the Griffons….” To her credit, Miss Vellum was listening politely…even intently…to the story. “Then Commander Hurricane—“ “FWISH! FWISH!” “asked, ‘If you don’t give us food, what are we supposed to do?” “And Chancellor Puddin’ Pah replied—“ “EAT THE CLOUDS!” Informal tradition was that anypony who got the chorus wrong would get poked. If the foals were particularly rowdy, the poking could become quite…zealous. Nopony got the response wrong this time…not even the drunks. Apple Bloom had only been half listening to the story. Some of her classmates were participating, but most of them considered themselves too old for the story. She was catching up with schoolmates she hadn’t seen in weeks. There’d been so much work at the farm, she hadn’t gone to school since…since that night. Apple Bloom coughed. Her nose stung, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Eat the clouds,” she whispered. Her nose began to run immediately. She cursed herself. She’d told herself (and Apple Jack, for that matter) that she was done crying…but this had snuck up on her. Everything fell together, and she chuckled grimly. Then she chuckled less grimly. Eat the clouds. It was an Earth Pony saying, perpetuated by the popular story currently being told, if not actually originating with Chancellor Pudding Pie herself. When a pony had nothing more substantial than clouds…when a pony had nothing…had been deprived of EVERYTHING, they could be said to be “Eating the clouds.” It was to start from nothing. To “pull yourself by your own bootstraps,” to “suck it up.” It was when things couldn’t possibly get worse…rock bottom. Or it could be used derisively, as Chancellor Pudding Pie had coined it. It was perfect…it summed up the Apples’ situation in three neat words. Big Mac was gone. Granny Apple was dead. The house was burned down—there was nothing but ashes, and the hole in the side of the hill that they’d scratched out to LIVE in. Maybe they could excavate the root cellar, and reclaim some of the food they’d stored…before. The maple sap would start flowing in a couple of weeks; they’d collect it and make syrup and maple sugar. With luck, they’d have enough to sell. The apple trees would bear fruit again, but that was months away. Right now, they had clouds…and each other. Eat the clouds. It was beautifully, Existentially perfect. There was a commotion in a corner of the room. Another holiday tradition…and perhaps one of the reasons older ponies requested the story of “Pudding Pie and the Griffon,” was the drinking game. Everypony would pick a different character…and whenever the response for that character came up, they’d down a shot of apple brandy—the homemade kind that came in a jar. A pony had fallen to the floor, and in a fit of giggles while trying to stand back up, had pulled one of his fellows to the floor on top of him. Miss Vellum was making her way through the crowd. So were a couple other jars of apple brandy. At the sudden distraction, somepony unintentionally thrust a brandy jar into Miss Vellum’s hooves. She regarded the jar a moment. Realizing his mistake, the pony reached to take it back, saying, “Uh, miss—“ Vellum had taken a sip. Anypony in the vicinity who realized what had happened was still and silent, eyes riveted to the young society Unicorn who’d been strangely dropped into their hollow… And jumped when Vellum suddenly cried out “WOO WOO! Now that’s what I’M talking about!’ She took two large gulps. A couple of ponies blanched at the thought of taking down the spirits in that quantity that quickly. Vellum wiped a drip at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hoof. “Nopony told me this was going to be a REAL party!” she said loudly. She offered the jar around, realizing she’d accidentally intercepted a jar intended for somepony else. “Ah’m sorry t’wasn’t muh better stuff,” mumbled a pony, the one from whom the jar had originated, by way of apology. She waved a hoof dismissively. “It’s the best I’ve had in months—hell of a lot better than the swill we used to brew in our rubber boots at finishing school.” Vellum’s remark was greeted with genial laughter. “Ol’ Clay’s gonna have ‘is hooves full with that one!” a pony remarked. Apple Jack was doing something she couldn’t remember having done in a long time. Relaxing. She let the crowd and the cider and the brandy warm her…kept her mind away from dark thoughts. A hoof tapped her shoulder, and a face lurched out of the crowd, excessively close to hers. “Miss Apple!” it exclaimed. Miss Vellum grinned charmingly, if a little manically, and then stepped back to a comfortable distance that wasn’t invading Apple Jack’s space. “Sorry, Miss Apple. Miss Apple, I’ve been wanting to meet you! Apple Bloom’s said…told me about you.” “Uh…hi?” Apple Jack was at a loss. School hadn’t been one of her favorite pastimes. She’d done well enough, but she hadn’t been brilliant. She’d never gotten over a slight dread of teachers. Yet, this filly…this teacher…was younger than she was. And possibly as drunk. “You’re Apple Bloom’s mm-sister!” she said, seizing Apple Jack’s hoof. Apple Jack’s mind was still slogging through the fact that this was Apple Bloom’s teacher…and what a teacher was. “We’ve so missed Apple Bloom…I hope she’ll be back to class soon.” “Uh…yeah…well…” Apple Jack stammered. “We’ve had a lot of work on th’ farm, gettin’ ready for Winter ‘n’ all….” “I understand….” Vellum trailed off, cocking her head and staring a little glassily into Apple Jack’s eyes. “Miss Apple?” she asked. “Uh…yah?” Vellum leaned forward slowly, giving the impression that she might not stop--might possibly even fall. Apple Jack braced herself, and was hard pressed to stop herself from backing away. Vellum lowered her voice, saying conspirationally, “Apple Bloom…is very special.” Apple Jack blinked. Vellum seemed frozen in time for a moment, not moving at all…collecting her thoughts. “I know I shouldn’t be playing favorites…but Apple Bloom really is one of the smartest fillies…smartest ponies in the class!” She tapped Apple Jack stoutly on the chest with one of her hooves. “You and your family have done a splendid job of bringing her up!” “Uh…thanks?” “I really do hope she’ll be back…or at least continue her studies…” Miss Vellum was saying. “It…she…it…it’d be a real shame for her not to continue…her studies.” “Ahm sorry…Ah’ll try to get her back to class, soon’s we can spare her at the farm…” Apple Jack promised uneasily. Vellum smiled broadly. “I hope so.” “Sis, Ah—“ came a voice. “Oh, Miss Vellum!” Apple Bloom yelped, instantly ashamed of her recent absence from school. She contemplated bolting off, but she’d already been seen. Her mind scrambled for something she might say to excuse her recent absences. “Apple Bloom! Happy Hearth’s-Warming Eve!” Miss Vellum gushed. She regarded Apple Bloom with a warm smile…and then her features dropped. “Oh, my….” The moment she regarded Apple Bloom, seeing her for the first time in weeks, in a weird mixture of intuition, Unicorn magic, and alcohol haze, she saw that Apple Bloom was with foal. Somehow, her revelation sucked Apple Jack and Apple Bloom into itself, and that instant, the three of them knew with absolute certainty that Apple Bloom was pregnant. Vellum’s thoughts surged ahead. Of course Apple Bloom wouldn’t be returning to school…not until after she delivered. She wouldn’t want to be seen, particularly after she began to show. As far as she knew, there WEREN’T any males that had anything to do with the Apple family…and Apple Bloom didn’t have a coltfriend. She’d probably want to keep the whole thing a secret. It was nopony’s business but her own. Apple Bloom hadn’t had anything to drink…her body was beginning to tell her something was going on, although she hadn’t realized it consciously yet. Miss Vellum came to her senses first. Apple Jack was still processing the revelation, with a growing sense of dread. Apple Bloom began to feel that she was on the verge of tears again. “I was just telling your sister how much we missed you at school, and she was telling me how much work there was to do around the farm,” Miss Vellum said quickly. “You’re a brilliant, brilliant student, Apple Bloom…but I realize it can take a lot of time to come into town for school when there’s a lot of work to be done. It’d be a tragedy for you to lose any time at your education, though…would it be okay if I came out to the farm to bring you some of the lessons to read?” “S-sure…” Apple Bloom stuttered. The Apple sisters were stunned on a number of levels…not the least of which finding out that Apple Bloom was PREGNANT. Miss Vellum swept forward, giving a startled Apple Bloom a warm, hard hug. “Congratulations!” she whispered, her eyes thickening with tears, although she’d said nothing aloud about the matter. Releasing Apple Bloom, she gave a befuddled Apple Jack a hug. The party continued well into Hearth’s Warming Day. Miss Vellum nearly beat Mayor Mare (the reigning champion) at bits—but the last shot had missed her mouth slightly, soaking her chin and neck. It’d been a splendid evening. Miss Vellum became a frequent visitor to the farm, bringing lessons and books and papers out to Apple Bloom, and coaching her in her studies. She often just “happened to have” cakes or food with her, but maintained the premise well enough that Apple Jack couldn’t chide her for bringing things. Even after Apple Bloom began to show, Vellum made no mention of it, to the sisters or to anypony else. When the time came, she suggested vaguely that maybe they’d taken in the foal of a distant cousin, otherwise orphaned by the war.