Applejack looks around the peaceful forest glade and smiles. Mid afternoon sun filters through the thriving trees in ribbons of molten gold, accenting the lazy bursts of pollen and dust that swirl in the breeze.
She shifts off the picnic blanket and sighs as her shoulders hit a soft patch of clover, rolls in that glorious, soft bed of greens, taking in the scent and the feel of it, before shifting her head up and cloud watching.
A year ago, she would’ve thought about all the undone chores waiting for her at the farm. A month ago, she would’ve muddied up the near-silence with inane questions and idle, empty chatter. But lately, she’s come to love the whispers of the wind through the trees, the murmur of a far-off brook, the tickling blades of grass beneath her. But she’s not quite where she wants to be, and that old, restless shifting, that need to move and do something itches through her legs and hooves. She squirms uselessly in the heavenly clover bed before rolling up onto her stomach and cracking her neck out, causing an awful, embarrassing echo through the peaceful glade.
"D’you want some more tea?" She rumbles in a half-whisper. Fluttershy starts and shudders before smiling kindly at her.
"No, thanks," she murmurs back. Applejack nods and hums a little something before settling back into the luxurious, springy greens around her. She tilts her hat just a tad, shading her eyes from the glaring, beautiful day, breathing in a comforting aroma of clover and daisy and Fluttershy and her musty old hatband. Her eyes droop and unfocus, and from underneath her hat-brim the leaves across the clearing move in sinuous, hypnotic waves. A sleepy little smile drifts across her face, light and steady as a low-hanging cloud.
Applejack barely registers the clink of flatware and wonderful warmth and weight of another pony against her as she drifts towards sleep. The dreamy softness of feathers tickles her chest, and then she’s gone.