Applejack reckoned the crowd to be two hundred, maybe three hundred strong. Doffing her hat, she whistled in grudging admiration. Her doubts about Appleseed aside, it was a pretty large crowd of ponies for a simple farm mare to draw out to the river spot. Of course, she wasn’t really a simple farm mare anymore, was she? It was a special night.
She wiped her brow, dispelling the sweat that clung persistantly to her coat. The sun that hung over Ponyville, hot and insistent, also covered the Everfree in waves of heat. It was sweltering, even this close to the river; the air was not walked through. One swam through it with a little grimace, a few mutterings, and much patience with suffering. Applejack endured it with all of the rustic pride she could bring to bear, which was a considerable amount, and thought of summer nights out in the orchards with her friends, as a foal.
Celestia only knew how Twilight was doing. As she glanced over at her companion, the temptation to smile was almost too much. Only a sense of courtesy kept her face straight as she beheld Twilight’s overheated frown and her sweat-soaked mane. The wet strands of her otherwise neat mane fell in her face like a veil, and Applejack idly wondered if she’d be able to see the way she was. At least they weren’t stuck to her.
“Thankya for coming, sugarcube,” Applejack said.
They stood side by side at the top of the hill, overlooking the river below and the Everfree stretching out beyond. From below, where the crowd was stirring, Applejack heard the first report of a singing stallion’s voice as he warmed up, and she smiled. She felt positively lighter.
“Of course,” Twilight said brightly. “It’s the least I could do! Accompanying a friend.”
“Regardless, I’m glad for it. I know it ain’t really somethin’ you’d be doin’ on your own.”
In her periphery, Twilight shrugged. “No, I’m not familiar with it firsthoof, but I’ve read about it. I’ve read up on all the inhabitants of Equestria. It’s only polite to not be ignorant, I suppose.”
Read about it. Applejack wondered if perhaps her friend didn’t put too much store in that, sometimes. True, she loved a good book, but it just seemed to carry too much weight with her. More weight than it ought to, to have heard about it secondhoof. There was something to be said of experience, after all.
But Applejack’s nod conveyed none of this. “Wise of you, I suppose. But I think you’ll find this gatherin’ a bit different. Surprisin’, even.”
With that, Applejack trotted down the verdant hill towards the crowd proper. Before the river, the earth ponies of Ponyville who had come out spread out like sheep, their garments white. Her aunt was down in the water, her eyes closed. She was relaxed, peaceful. In an idle sense, Applejack envied her for an instant, breaking the unity of the summer outing with a grimace. She was acutely aware of her own sweat, of the crowd and the guitar and the singers. Of the sweltering heat and the distance from home. Part of her said that she should close that distance, turn around and leave. Go back to Macintosh and her little sister. She could forget her aunt who stood so quietly in the flowing river, and go home to where Rarity would not be.
Twilight nudged her. “You alright?” she asked.
Applejack coughed, and tore her eyes away from Appleseed. Had it shown so much? “Yeah, I’m fine, sugarcube.”
Her words, firmer than her sentiments, bridged the gap. Once more, she felt apart of the crowd that now was all around them. Foals and stallions, fillies and colts, mares young and old. The filly she had been on her father’s back so many years prior blinked and awoke.
“Now, Twi,” she said, gesturing all around. “they’ll be millin’ about for a bit, so I can tell ya a few things.”
Around her, as she composed her thoughts, Applejack could hear a dozen soft conversations. She could catch only scraps of them—children, spouses, the summer heat, the town. Simple conversations, but somehow they seemed more. It was the moment, the anticipation, he figured. Something she was impressing upon the scene.
“There’ll be some singin’. Now, I know ya won’t know the songs, I see you ‘bout to ask. Perfectly fine. Just bein’ here is alright. I didn’t know all the words when… I was a little ‘un, but it’s fine. What else? My aunt’s the itinerant preacher, see her?” she drawled the first syllable of “itinerant” like she was mulling over it.
“Yes, I see her. What are they going to sing?”
“Songs. Heh, jus’ messin’ with ya. It’s a big question. They all kinda go back to the source though, you know.”
Twilight stared at her blankly.
Applejack sighed and rolled her eyes. “Gaia. Don’t y’all remember your sire? Er… what’s his name? Aw, I really should know.”
“Thaumon? I suppose we all learn of him, when we’re in school. It’s not like he’s that important to us, though.”
“A shame,” Applejack said, furrowing her brow. “Seems weird to me, Twi. I mean, the first alicorns givin’ their lives to make the folk of the world, seems right to be respectful of it. We’re thankful, Twi, earth ponies are an—“
Music. Simple music that began as a hum. She froze, her mouth open for a brief moment before she joined in—
—“I imagine that’s how it was like, in the beginnin’,” her father was saying. The vibration of his bassy voice against her.
“Pa?”
Her childish face was buried in his thick mane. She roused herself from the comforting smell of home and her own family’s fields to look out at the crowd around her. The air was filled with the humming of the enthralled congregation, and it is almost a physical thing, a constant presence. It is like a blanket over her back, one to replace the hot, wet blanket that is the summer evening.
“You know. The Song, I bet it was a little like this,” he continues. “When the world was young, hayseed, the world was born out of a big, grand ole Song…”
And he had gone on but she had been young, hadn’t she? She’d lost it in the hum and the electricity in the air, and then the singing began. She had tried, hadn’t she, to match his voice and be with it and beside it? She hadn’t known the words at all. They’d simply escaped her. It hadn’t mattered, of course—
—and Applejack sang with them when they sang, her voice rising into the air as if compelled by something she couldn’t understand. Her aunt fell out of her mind. Her problems withered and were gone.
❧
Applejack, in the calm after the singing, stood still as could be. Her breathing was deep, and her eyes took in the sight of the withdrawing congregation. The meeting was over. The earth ponies of Ponyville had done service as a community, and now they were leaving as a community. The sun had finally departed back below the endless treeline, and like it, the white clothed ponies streamed past Twilight and Applejack. They chatted amiably among themselves, smiling. Each of them wore that smile, Applejack noticed in the cal m. That satisfied, fulfilled smile, a smile that was full of some feeling she couldn’t name, but wanted to.
The tension she had carried with her all the way from the farm had drained away, and she was more than glad to be rid of it. All of it had flown away with the river—wasn’t that why they came here, after all? Rarity and her pausing and her looks was gone. The farm was far away, so very far away, and in a way, it too was gone. In a good way. A temporary way.
Applejack turned, her eyes catching a brief flash of lavender before they focused on the torch bearing crowd that hummed and chatted. The Everfree had never seemed safer, and just the sight of it was enough to make her smile. They were receding, and the stallions and mares on the outside dispelled the deep and dark night with fire. In the middle of the crowd, it was like a false day where foals laughed and chased each other, weaving through the legs of their parents.
She was reminded of her childhood again. How like a field of stars, it had seemed, those torches against the core of the night!
But they were soon gone, except for a few stragglers who would go together. Applejack turned back towards them, and towards the river. A few foals played in the shallows while their parents looked on. A young mare and stallion sat close together a ways from her, the mare’s head resting on her partner’s shoulder.
And directly ahead, Applejack saw her aunt, talking to a colt and his lone father. She bit her lip. Damn. Don’t begrudge nopony a bit of her time, I suppose.
When Twilight spoke, she almost jumped.
“Applejack.”
The farmer turned her head. “Yeah? What’s up, Twi?”
“Why am I here?”
Applejack froze, her mouth open. Twilight’s gaze, for all of its focus, didn’t seem angry, and so Applejack closed her mouth and tried to relax a bit. She had to give an answer, of course. A truthful answer, if possible. No Apple alive was a good liar, her father had told her once, so no use trying it out.
“Twi, I thought you might wanna be in on this. You’re new in town, y’know? And for awhile you had to kinda find your place. This is something that helps the earth ponies in town maintain their… bonds, I suppose.”
Twilight sighed, and a smile broke up the strange piercing stare she gave. “Oh, I get that. Yes… I did feel… a part of something, I suppose. Something big and grand. Something old. Like, even though I understood just about nothing these ponies did, I still felt a part of them.”
“Right ya should. You’re ours, Twi. Our librarian. You’re a little part of our town’s heart, you know. You should experience what we do. We all love ya.” She paused. “I know I ain’t good at showing it, recently. Rarity and all. The farm. Ain’t seen ya in so long…”
“I never doubted, Applejack,” Twilight said, and her voice was soft as a mother’s.
Applejack breathed in deeply. “I know. But yeah, I figured it would be good for you to share it. It used to be an earth pony town, after all. Still is, in some ways. So I figured it would help you feel more a part of… us.”
“That’s kind of you.” Twilight looked away a moment, though Applejack still saw the smile there. After a second, she looked back up. The look was back, that look that was sharp like a surgeon’s scalpel.
“I believe you,” she said, and the softness was still present. Yet her eyes made it different somehow. “I do, Applejack. Haven’t I always? But that’s not why you wanted me here. I mean, I think it was there in your mind. I think it was part of it. Maybe more a part of it than I’m thinking, but there’s something else.”
Applejack scowled and looked down. “Like what?”
“Your relative, over there. Aunt, right?”
“Yeah.”
Twilight coughed. “Yes. Well, you have been staring at her a lot. It’s not interest. It’s more like… you want something.”
“An’ what if I do? I got a right to talk to my kin, Twi.” She glanced over at the river again. The colt’s father was saying something, and Appleseed laughed at it, her alto voice carrying. Inwardly, Applejack groaned. She was stuck, and Twilight was looking at her like she was an old antique book. Something to be cracked open and learned, something to be known. Applejack squirmed.
“I know that, Applejack. I didn’t say that. I just want to know the truth. You had an ulterior motive here, and… I just want to know. I just want you to tell me.”
“It’s… look, Twi, this ain’t really your business, an’ I’m sorry I dragged you into it all—“
“Don’t. Applejack… I’m your friend. You should tell me stuff like this. I mean, whatever it is.”
Applejack sighed. “It ain’t your business, Twi. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just mean… aw hell, look. It’s…”
“Rarity.”
Applejack had nothing to say for a moment. Her mind was like a slate wiped clean, everything erased. She simply stared ahead for a moment, putting together a sentence.
“Well. Is it that obvious?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, damn. Here I was, thinkin’ I was bein’ all discrete and all and then…” she groaned and turned away from Twilight. “It still ain’t your business, Twi.”
“I know!” The softness was gone. This was like sandpaper, grating. Her voice was almost ragged, as if the levee had broken and this was the muddy flood. “Look, AJ… I know that. It isn’t any of my business how things are between you two. But… I’m your friend, Applejack. Nopony… I just… I’m sorry. I just wish you trusted me.”
“That ain’t fair.”
“Maybe, I’m not sure. Is it true? That’s the question.”
“It still ain’t fair, even if it were true. Twi, there’s trust and then there’s bein’ all… tellin’ all kindsa… Twilight, I don’t go around blabbin’ my fillyfriend’s secrets. An’ mine.”
Twilight growled, and sat down heavily. Applejack almost told her the grass was probably wet, but thought better of it. It was perhaps not the best moment to interrupt Twilight.
“Applejack, look. I’m not entitled to know. I get that. I just wish you’d talk to me about things. Or Pinkie. Just… Think about it. Rainbow… Rainbow is dead, AJ. Flutters won’t talk to anyone, after the maze and the awful dark.”
“Yeah,” Applejack said. She tensed. She hated that look, the one in Twilight’s eyes. She’d seen it in Rarity’s, when her love had spoken of Rainbow’s last adventure. How they had been carried away by an ancient enemy of Celestia’s.
An’ left me out of it. Applejack saw no flashbacks. She saw no blood as traps downed a flying Rainbow Dash. She had only Rarity’s half-spoken, half-sobbed recollections and Twilight’s occasional word.
So she tried to have patience with that lost look that stared down long corridors.
“Twilight, I’m sorry. I have been kinda distant. I know that.”
“Applejack, I’m sorry, I—“
“Naw,” she said, clearing her throat. “Twilight, maybe I shoulda been talkin’ to ya. Your business or not, maybe not talkin’ to you before I came to see my aunt wasn’t smartest idea.” She glanced over, and noted the colt and his father making their goodbyes.
“So, why me?”
“Why not you? I missed ya.” Applejack fidgeted. She saw that Appleseed saw her, and could see that eyebrow raising. Yet Twilight was here. Waiting. Needing her to say something that made sense. Applejack felt a tug in her chest, like a great hook.
So she began. “Twilight,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “I miss you. You aren’t the only one feelin’ the distance. Besides that, I needed someone with me. To explain why I went… aw hell, to make sure I didn’t chicken out.”
Applejack gestured. “Come with?”
“I could, yes. Will I figure out what this is all about?”
“I hope so. I hope I do, honestly, Twi.”
They walked in silence for the minute or so it took to cross the distance between them and Appleseed, who stood silent in the water. Her eyes, her grey eyes, watched Applejack. They bored into her and for a moment the farmer almost felt them like a hoof on her chest and on her cheeks. She didn’t know what they meant. They simply regarded her, unmoving like the grey stone of the earth. The penitent and her friend came down to the river.
Applejack descended.
The water was cold, so very cold. It stung her, and she gasped, looking down at it. As she broke her line of sight with her aunt, Applejack suddenly felt lighter. Her hat was between them like a veil, and for a brief moment she found herself ready to shake. It was foolish, of course, but now that she was free of the stare and the moment, the world seemed different. More fragile. The singing was so long ago.
“Applejack?”
It was her aunt’s voice. It was low, in the way her brother’s had been once.
“Heya, Aunt Appleseed.”
A chuckle. “You should look up when ya say that, young ‘un.”
Applejack didn’t want to. She knew that if she did, those eyes would be there. They would make her stay still and be solid like they were. They would demand… something. She didn’t know. This was a stupid idea. A damn fool idea.
She looked up and met her aunt’s eyes.
Her father’s sister smiled. Her mane was brown that was slowly retreating before gray that matched her eyes. Applejack tried to formulate words but fell short. Yet that smile seemed to say that it was quite alright, that the world was old and Appleseed could afford to wait a bit.
“It’s been a long time,” Applejack said at last, lamely.
“Yeah. It has. How ya been?” The gentle smile did not waver.
“Good, I suppose,” Applejack said, and once again remembered she was in the water. “I… uh, pardon me, ma’am… could we step back on the bank for a spell?”
Appleseed nodded, and gestured. Applejack led the way, and they sat down beside the river.
“Now, young ‘un. I know you got somethin’ on your mind. This ain’t just a social visit. Not that I mind, of course. Ya had no chance to know me, though I remember when your pa broughtcha ‘round.”
“I remember it,” Applejack said, and managed a smile. Beside her, she heard Twilight shifting her weight on the wet grass. Aw, hon, just wait a bit. You’ll find it all out.
“So somethin’s on your mind, Applejack.”
“A lot of things. I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about pa and about ma,” Applejack said, after a deep breath.
“Not surprisin’. You know…” her aunt paused, and looked back at the river. “It ain’t changed none, since last I came round to do the rites in Ponyville. The way of things, I guess. But I remember ya and your pa. He wasn’t sick yet, you know. When I heard ‘bout him, I came for the funeral. Too late. You remember it?”
“No ma’am,” Applejack whispered, a bit more ragged than she intended. It shocked her how quick it had come. She bit her lip again.
“Thought you might not. I ain’t proud of missin’ that, Applejack. I tried my damnedest, but Hoofington’s a far way off, if you get me. But… I miss my brother too.” Appleseed sighed and laid a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder. “Got a stallion? I’ve already heard that the farm’s doin’ mighty well these days.”
Applejack squirmed like a child caught in the pantry past midnight.
“A mare.”
“Ah.” Raised eyebrows, but not much more. Simply a correction of the question.
“Yeah. Rarity. Unicorn. Makes dresses in Ponyville.” Applejack’s eyes drifted downwards.
“She owns a boutique!” Twilight jumped in, and Applejack almost jumped in shock. She’d forgotten all about Twilight.
Twilight continued, her voice bright. “She’s a wonderful seamstress, and a hard worker. She’s been selling dresses as far away as Manehattan and Vanhoover!”
Appleseed nodded. “Industry is a good thing. It’s somethin’ an Apple can approve of, right, Applejack?”
“Yes’m."
“What ‘bout your folks, though, young ‘un?” the preacher prompted. “What in particular ‘bout ‘em? I could help ya. I knew ‘em both for a long time.”
“They were happy, weren’t they?” Applejack asked, and then winced when her aunt drew back and sighed.
Appleseed gestured. “Don’t suppose we could walk a bit? While we talk, if you understand me. This might be a long time talkin’ out.”
She turned, not waiting for an answer. As she walked, Twilight and Applejack shared a look. Applejack could see on that inquisitive face a hard and focused look, not unlike a hawk’s as it searched for prey. She was analyzing. It was instinctive, the reaction of someone burned once who brings the wound into every moment. She supposed whatever had happened when the Crawling Chaos had stolen her friends away and deposited them… somewhere, it had been more than she would know.
“Tell me all of it, Applejack. I’m assumin’ somethin’ is up with you and this filly of yours.”
“I mean, kinda? It might be me.”
“Maybe. Tell,” Appleseed repeated.
They followed the river, and Applejack was closest to it, her eyes drifting along it as she began to explain.
“You know about the whole… elements of harmony thing.” At her aunt’s nod, Applejack continued. “Somethin’ happened, and Rarity ain’t gotten over it. They were caught up in… in somethin’ evil and dark. Trapped. Rarity was… she was in love with my best friend.”
Her aunt paused midstride and looked back. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, and then continued on, gazing nowhere.
“Well,” Applejack continued, a bit shaken. “R-Rainbow died, you see? I wasn’t there. Couldn’t be, no way for it, no way helpin’ it.”
“I understand, child, keep goin’.”
“Right. She’s scarred. Like, not physically, but all up in there, in her head. In her heart, and I don’t really know if I can fix it.”
“Ain’t up to you,” Appleseed said, and her voice was low.
Applejack glanced over at Twilight, who looked down at the grass. Twilight’s ears drooped and her whole body seemed to sag. “It’s not… something…” Twilight began, but nothing more came.
Applejack continued, hoping Twilight could match their pace. Or that she would want to. “An’ I knew that, when I went in. So I ain’t complainin’.”
“I’d hope not,” her aunt replied.
“But I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout my parents,” Applejack said, coming back to the issue. “Were they happy? ‘Cause I ain’t, Auntie. I ain’t at all.”
“At all? Not even a bit?” the older mare asked.
They stopped, then, at a bend in the river. The night was in full force, and as Twilight summoned a few magical lights, Applejack could see a small wagon up ahead, beyond the magic glow, and even in the dark core of the night she could make out that it was painted brightly. Greens and yellows, she guessed. Browns.
“Come on in, won’tcha?” Appleseed asked as she stood beside it, stepping out of the light for a moment. Her gray eyes shone out of the dark like little stars.
They entered, and found it homely and simple. They crammed into the corners, and Appleseed sat on a spartan bed. Twilight lit her small lanterns with her magic lights, and then dispelled them.
“So you ain’t happy ‘t all. Even a bit. Even a tiny bit, ever.”
“Suppose I am, on occasion,” Applejack allowed.
Appleseed nodded. “Of course you are. Tragedy ain’t somethin’ that lingers in all places, ya dolt. The body is incapable of avoidin’ some shred of pleasure for all of time. For what it’s worth. Now, beyond that, I think there’s somethin’ else. You wonderin’ about her as a spouse, then.”
“What kind of family would we make?” Applejack asked, Twilight forgotten. “Honestly. Couldja see it? Me raisin’ fillies and colts with a basketcase for one mother? Aw, hell, it ain’t fair for me to say it. It ain’t fair at all, but I can’t stop thinking about that, and Rares don’t even want kids like I do. Not ‘t all.”
Appleseed waited. She said nothing. Her smile was gone, her lips firmed into a thin line.
“She has nightmares. Mood swings. Holds onto Rainbow—I hold onto Rainbow, auntie, but this ain’t like that! It’s an unhealthy kinda thing, and dammit if she isn’t trying to follow that damn pegasus into Tartarus sometimes. Who is the farm gonna go to? Big Mac can’t run it. We both knew that, it’s why I’m in charge.”
“No head for numbers?”
“No head for ponies. Can’t talk to ‘em to save his life. He can crunch the numbers… it ain’t the point. My ma and pa loved each other, didn’t they?”
“Of course they did, young ‘un.”
“They happy? Did they fight?”
“All couples fight,” Appleseed said slowly, leaning in. “All of them.”
Applejack leaned in to, and realized her hat was still on her head. She paused, removed it for courtesy’s sake, and laid it beside her, the top down.
“I know that,” she said. “I mean, I think I know it. But it’s just like fillin’ in a hole that’s alive, y’know? An’ it just eats and eats an’ ya never can fill ‘er up. Bottomless, that’s the word. Sometimes, like when I’m workin’, I’ll just think about it. Maybe I woulda been better findin’ some big stallion in town. Havin’ a clutch of foals.”
“You ain’t happy with what you are, then? How you are?”
Applejack sighed and leaned back. “I dunno.”
“You don’t know much,” her aunt replied. “Do ya?”
From her corner, Twilight had been listening. Applejack caught her clearing her throat, and she glanced over. “May I speak?” Twilight asked haltingly.
“Of course. Twilight, ain’tcha? I hear things, hon.”
“Yes, ma’am. Applejack, does Rarity not want children at all? Or is she just not as enthusiastic about it?”
Applejack shrugged. “She ain’t exactly chompin’ on the bit. We talked about it… an’ that’s another thing. Aunt Seed, it’s just… it ain’t the same. The way we gotta go ‘bout it.”
A grunt. “Applejack, you think the natural way is flowers an’ roses?”
Twilight laughed, and Applejack rolled her eyes. Forget she had that nervous laugh thing.
“No. You know what I mean, though. I’m just… I guess I didn’t see this all comin’. I feel trapped, and it ain’t right to feel that way. Not at home. It ain’t right.”
“Maybe. Applejack, I’m going to ask you somethin’ honest, alright?” When Applejack had nodded, she continued with a deep breath. “Why’d you fall for this mare?”
Applejack looked down. She glanced at her hat, thoughts swirling about in her head. She framed the sentence two dozen different ways, and yet nothing jumped out at her.
“Lots of reasons,” she said at last. When her aunt snorted, she continued. “I mean… always thought she was pretty, but never thought she’d be interested in me. Then she fell for Rainbow hard, and I figured it wasn’t to be. No big deal. Movin’ on to the next filly. But after… Rainbow… well.” She coughed and looked at her hooves. “We were grievin’, and that was hard, and we all felt alone. Fluttershy wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t talk to any of us. She was all alone, and I felt left out of the loop. I wasn’t there when it happened. So…”
“You two fared better, I think.” Twilight said softly. Both of the Apple mares glanced over, and she seemed to shrink. “Sorry, I just… you two had each other, Applejack. Rarity improved. She would actually… talk. When you too started dating, she looked a thousand times more alive. The year before that, she’d been so…”
“I know,” Applejack replied. There was silence in the wagon.
“What exactly do you want from me, truly?” Appleseed asked, and her voice was soft. “Absolution? Have it. You’re a good mare tryin’ to do good things. The earth you treat well, and from the sounds of it, your kin and future kin.”
“I’ll take that, Mother,” she said, slipping into a different tone for a moment. “I need advice. What I should do?”
“Do you want children? Can you support ‘em?”
“Yes’m,” Applejack replied.
“Applejack, I don’t know your mare. You know your mare. Go home. You have a friend right here who knows both of you. Go home and talk to her. Tell her what you want and what you need and what… well. What you think. Hear the same. My advice, Applejack, is that regret ain’t worth your time.”
Applejack said nothing. The air in the wagon was heavy with humidity and silence.
“It was good to see ya, Applejack. You grew up real nice. I think you should go home, though. Go find your Rarity. She live up to her name?”
Applejack laughed, and tension drained from her shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, she does.”
“Heh. Good.” She gestured. “Now shoo. Go. It’s been a long day.”
The two mares who had come from Ponyville carefully exited the wagon, Applejack grabbing her hat on the way. Appleseed stood at the door, and smiled down at them.
Applejack put her hat back on, and looked back the way they’d come. It was dark, and she knew the way would be filled with briars on either side of the dirt road that snaked through the underbrush. The pitch black around her was held at bay by the lantern light, and by the magic Twilight brought to bear. She smiled, and shivered in the damp air.
“Oh, Applejack?” her aunt called, and the farmer looked up.
“They were very happy. They fought quite a bit. Your ma and pa drove each other up a wall. Good luck, young ‘un. Alright?”
“All I can do is try, ma’am,” Applejack said, and she Twilight went out into the night alone. On the road, Applejack thought of Rarity falling asleep on a plush couch in the boutique after putting in far too much work. It was almost guaranteed, really. And so it should be! Somepony needed to be there to put her to bed when it happened, and Applejack didn’t mind it at all. Industry she understood.
And Rarity she loved.
The walk back through the core of the night, down the path begirt with brambles and thorns, was long. Applejack didn’t mind it as much as had thought she might, when she had come this way before.