A stray branch whipped around the tree, slicin' through the air like a snake's hiss, tryin' to snap at the back of mah bow and tug at mah mane.
Takin’ the shortcut had been a bad idea. A really bad idea.
Sure, in autumn and winter it could shave off a couple o’ minutes and get me t’ the clubhouse in no time flat. But in spring, with all the branches ‘n’ bushes blockin’ me every which way, it was a little harder ta navigate.
Ah grumbled and pushed on, knowin’ that in a few minutes, Ah’d be outta there and at the treehouse, and that I could then start workin’ on it and preppin’ it for summer.
Ah slid under another overhanging branch, pushin’ it outta mah way before lettin’ go of it. The darned thing snapped back and smacked mah flank hard enough to make me howl and gallop forwards a ways. “Stupid forest!” Ah swore, mentally addin’ a few swears fer Scootaloo—who’d shown me the shortcut, and mahself fer taking it.
Ignorin’ mah soon-to-be butt-welt, Ah carefully dove on through the path. It only took a few moments more fer me ta see ya.
You stood on the edge of the main road, yer face twisted into a glare as ya stared into the woods and let yer ears perk ‘n’ swivel from side to side, searchin’ for somethin’. “Hello?” you eventually asked, curious and worried.
Mah heart climbed ta mah throat and mah eyes widened until they threatened to pop outta mah head. You were lookin’ for whatever it was that had screamed. The burnin’ on mah flank was a sad reminder that that was me. Now, Ah couldn’t very well go up to a colt and tell ‘im that Ah had been smacked on the behind by a stray branch, so mah more-than-embarrassed mind told me t’ pipe down and trot on.
Bird calls and the whisper of the wind finally threw you off the trail, and you shifted the bags on yer back before beginnin’ to walk again. From the edge of the lapels poked out a pair o’ familiar boxes, both of ’em covered in printed pictures o’ lollipops and cakes and the logo of Sugarcube Corner.
You were bringin’ the lunches! Ah realised with glee. And t’ top it off, Ah was gonna be the lucky filly t’ eat ’em, alone, with you, in the middle-o’-nowhere. It’s about that time when Ah began to see a flaw in mah plan.
Mah steps grew awkward on the bramble-covered forest floor, and Ah nearly tripped as mah mind raced. Had Ah been sendin’ you mixed messages? You had a dopey grin at the moment, but then again, you were always wearin’ that cute smile. And you’d brought the cakes like we’d talked about, but that was normal; we had talked about it. Ah shook mah head and banished the thoughts. There wasn’t a darned thing Ah could do ‘bout it now. And anywho, Ah wasn’t into-into you. Sure, Ah liked ya a little....
“Hello, Mister Macintosh!” you called out, settin’ mah blood t’ run cold.
A dozen metres ahead of ya was mah big brother. The lumberin’ red oaf was walkin’ along, his yoke bouncin’ on his back as he smiled and nodded t’ you. “Eeyup,” he replied.
Yer dopey grin returned in full force, splittin’ yer face across as yer long limbs made ya hop over t’ Big Macintosh. “Fine weather we’re having, eh, sir?”
“Eeyup.” Macintosh nodded, then looked up to the cloudless sky as if t’ confirm the simple truth. “Real nice day.”
Nodding, you looked up to the sky too, then back down ‘n’ to the roadway behind mah brother, where the trees thickened and the road forked. “So, Mister Macintosh, do you happen to know where the Crusader clubhouse is?” you asked, plastering a quick and easy smile on.”I’m supposed to meet Apple Bloom later for lunch, but she never gave me the directions.”
One of Big Macintosh's brows perked up while Ah slapped mah hoof against mah face. Ah was beginnin’ t’ see that ya weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed sometimes.
“Ah can show ya,” mah brother said. “But you’ll have t’ tell me more about this.”
The grin was replaced by a blank expression, then ya giggled aloud, catchin’ both me and mah brother by surprise. “Oh boy. I didn’t think it would sound that way, Mister Macintosh. I’m sorry. My mom always told me to keep my mouth shut before I put my hoof in it. Guess I should listen more.”
“Eeyup.”
“Apple Bloom helped me the other day... days. Twice now she saved me from some really mean ponies, and risked herself to do so. So I decided that I had to do something for her in return. You know, she’s one of the nicest fillies I’ve ever met, and she’s really pretty, too,” ya said, full of enthusiasm as Ah blushed ‘n’ Big Macintosh’s brow tried to hop offa his face.
As if ya hadn't dug a deep enough grave, you opened yer mouth ‘n’ carried on talkin’. “You Apples sure are nice folk. I could never have gotten out of that sticky place without Apple Bloom’s help. I mean, I was being held back by two fillies! I can’t hurt a filly. That’s all sorts of wrong. And that’s why I’m bringing her a gift.”
Ah almost stumbled over another branch when Macintosh replied to you. “Well... that’s awfully adult of you, Snails.” He turned around and pointed one of his powerful apple buckin’ limbs over to the right-most fork. “Go down that there road and keep headin’ straight. The clubhouse is gonna be to yer left.” His hoof strayed down, then touched yer shoulder, the same way he‘d touched mine so many times before.
“You be nice to Apple Bloom. If you hurt her, Ah’ll hurt you.”
You kept on smilin’, unfazed. “I’d never hurt her! She’s my special friend,” ya said with clear conviction. Mah heart skipped a beat... or three.
You and Macintosh parted, wavin’ good-byes as you both split apart from each other. Ah watched ya move on with yer two boxes on yer back fer a bit before chargin’ after ya, tryin’ ta pass ya through the forest.
In seconds, you were outta sight and outta mind. Well, mostly outta mind. Actually, Ah was sorta thinkin’ about how to thump the stupid outta yer mind before ya said somethin’ really silly. And Ah was also questioning mahself on how Ah felt about certain things.
The woods parted ahead, revealin’ the familiar clearing where the clubhouse sat. A lazy wind slipped by the building before bein’ eaten by the woods surroundin’ it. Waters lapped ‘gainst the shore of the tiny stream that weaved ‘round our cursadin’ headquarters as a bunch a ‘lil critters flirted ‘n‘ played bashfully with one another under the spring sun.
Takin’ a moment to smell the perfume-rich air, Ah began to make mah way to the house, chasin’ thoughts of silly colts away as Ah looked at all the work that needed doin’. One of the shutters was crooked and it probably needed some paintin’ done. Heck, the entire thing was covered in peelin’ strips o’ faded brown and tan paint that we’d borrowed from Fluttershy’s shed. A step from the staircase was broken in half, the plank’s end a mess of splinters pointin’ to the sky and to the sign that had once read “no colts alowed,” but that was now rockin’ on a single hinge.
Ah sighed, wiped some sweat from mah forehead, and trotted through the long grass to the front entrance. Tools we’d gotten from the barn were inside, and maybe there was some paint left in the cans still. A bit of elbow grease and some sweat ‘n’ the place would look like new!
Hummin’, Ah climbed up the steps—avoidin’ that open hole of the third one—and pushed the door open to let out a waft of stale, boiling air.
Ah forgot how much three fillies could stink up a place. Wrinkin’ mah nose ‘gainst the scent of rotten socks and melted crayons, Ah ran across the creaky floorboards and stuck mah head into the cupboard. There, Ah found a rustin’ hammer ‘n’ a bag of nails that Ah grabbed before hurryin’ outta that suffocatin’ room.
Air couldn’t get into mah lungs fast enough as Ah panted, droppin’ the hammer and sack o’ nails at mah hooves. “Whoo-wee, it’s hot in there,” Ah exclaimed before wipin’ a hoof across mah forehead again.
It took a good long while before Ah noticed you at the base of the steps, starin’ up at me with wide eyes and a grin that would’a been silly if it weren’t so... you.
“Hi, Apple Bloom. How are you?”
Your big stare swallowed me up like a starvin’ pony eatin’ apple pie, and suddenly the sun wasn’t the only thing makin’ me warm. “Oh, heyya, Snails. You brought lunch?” Ah asked.
“Yup!” You reached around and tapped one o’ yer saddlebags. “All ready to eat when you feel like it. I got Miss Pinkie Pie to make you something extra special.”
“Oh, that’s awfully thoughtful. Ah’d invite ya up here, but the steps might give. I oughta fix ‘em up real fast.” Ah looked behind me and at the rest of the buildin’. “Well, there’re a few things that Ah oughta fix....”
Your mouth opened into a little “o” and ya looked around the place, starin’ at all the holes and the flaky paint. “Yeah, I’ll say. Do you want some help?”
“Nah, Ah should be fine. Just some... stuff, to do.”
You shook yer head from side to side while yer horn glowed, pullin’ yer bags from offa yer back and droppin’ ‘em beside ya. “I can’t let a girl do all that hard work on her own,” ya said.
The thump of mah forehoof on the wooden boards resonated through the clearin’. “What’cha mean by that? Ah can’t handle mahself? Ah’ll let ya know that Ah could outwork ya any day of the week, colt. Jus’ ‘cause Ah’mma gal don’t mean Ah can’t work harder ‘n’ better than anypony else.”
“Uh, that’s not what I meant?” you said, shrinkin’ away from mah outburst. “I just don’t think it’s okay to leave you here with all this work alone. I could help you, a bit. I’m not the best, and I’m sorta clumsy, but I can still try, right?”
“Oh,” Ah said, feelin’ all sorts of stupid. Tryin’ to pretend that there wasn’t a horrid blush on mah face, Ah looked away and mumbled under mah breath. “Well, yeah, Ah guess Ah wouldn’t mind a hoof.”
“Great! Where do we start?!”
Yer enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the both of us were standin’ side by side, starin’ up at the broken shutter; you with the bag of nails danglin’ from yer mouth, and me with mah rusty ol’ hammer. “Kay, tho,” Ah began, talkin’ through the tool, “you puth the nailth in, Ah ham’mer ‘em.”
We began, you helpin’ me along as Ah told ya what t’ do in the same clipped tone Ah always heard Applejack use on me. The shutter was nailed back into place, then we found ourselves a plank for a bit of unneeded support to replace the broken step. As the sun crawled across the sky, we worked, sweatin’ beside each other and hardly speakin’ a single word ‘cept for mah muttered orders.
Soon, Ah forgot that you were even there. You’d become a shadow. Mah shadow.
When the sun made its way around and was beaming down our backs, Ah raised a hoof and called for a time out. Mah mane was stickin’ to mah head, mah bow was half-undone and speckled with fresh paint, and mah legpits stank worse than the pig stall in ruttin’ season.
You were in far worse condition.
Yer mouth was wide open and pantin’ somethin’ crazy, yer eyes were droopy, and yer constant grin was not-so-constant no more. Still, ya managed ta smile at me when Ah pressed a hoof against yer shoulder and silently led ya into the house and into the shade. The brush yer magic had been holdin’ onta dropped with a splatter on the balcony. No biggie.
“You okay, Snails?” Ah asked, tryin’ t’ mask mah concern fer reasons that Ah still hadn’t figured out.
“I’m fine!” you lied to mah face. Ah forgave you and moved around you to the entranceway.
The smell which had been likely ta kill us earlier was now gone, replaced by a fresh breeze provided by a few open windows and the forceful removal of some junk in the corners. Now, the only thing Ah could smell was yer sweat. Most mares would have wrinkled their noses and ran off, but Ah was a farm girl, and there’s nothin’ better than a bit o’ hard work ta please a lady. ‘Least, that’s what Granny always said.
Ah heard a thumpin’ behind me and turned about to see you crash to the ground, great big breaths heavin’ outta ya like the puffin’ of a steam engine. “Snails!” Ah cried, and rushed to yer side. “What’s wrong?” Ah asked, knowin’ the answer.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m fine. Just taking a rest. That’s the best thing to do when you’re tired.... Why do they call is a shutter when it’s never used to actually shut anything anyway?”
Blinkin’ at you, Ah stood up, shook my own woozy head, then looked out the door. The grassy field outside had a shimmerin’ of warmth hazin’ above it. “Didja bring any water?”
“Nope. Just juice... sorry.”
“Juice’ll do fine,” Ah said before settin’ outta the house.
Crossin’ the doorway was like stickin’ yer head in the oven. Hot, burnin’ light and a wall of humid air choked me as Ah pushed through and made my way down the refurbished ramp and to yer packs. Scoopin’ them up and turnin’ around, Ah began to make mah way back into the slightly cooler interior of the clubhouse.
It was way too warm to make it back home in one piece. We were stuck here ‘till the afternoon sun began t’ descend, and the heat died down a tad. Well, we deserved a break anyhow.
Under a box of tiny cupcakes (which Ah’ll admit were pretty darned cute) Ah found a glass bottle filled to the brim with lukewarm orange juice and a pair of cups crumpled in the bottom of the bag, both of ‘em collectin’ the bits and pieces of dust down there. A few seconds later and Ah was servin’ you a glass o’ the warm-ish liquid.
You gulped it down as if it were delicious while Ah sipped at my own cup, lettin’ the tang of the juice swish ‘round mah mouth. “Thanks,” ya finally said.
“Ya didn’t have ta push yerself this hard, ya know. Ah would’a been fine alone, and you wouldn’t be here pantin’ and on the edge of a heat stroke.”
Yer eyes met mine and you began talkin’ all excited-like.“Hmm? No! I like working like this. I mean, it’s really good to be tired because you worked hard at something. It’s a special kind of tired, or something.” You looked away, blushin’ from more than just the warmth, and began sippin’ at yer juice again. “This is really nasty.”
“Ye’re talkin’ like an Apple, ya know that? Enjoyin’ hard, manual labour like that’s not somethin’ fer everypony.” It was sorta endearin’, how you were like us but so different in yer own ways. Ya didn’t look nothin’ like an Apple—none of us are that lanky—but ya still had some o’ the good qualities that we prized so much. “Hey, Snails. How ‘bout we let go fer today? It’s only gonna get hotter and we’re almost outta paint anyhow.”
“Do you want me to come back tomorrow to help some more?” you asked, smilin’ as ya grunted back up. “I really don’t mind, and there’s nothing better for me to do tomorrow in town.”
“Oh,” Ah said. Ah hadn’t thought o’ that. “Ah was mostly thinkin’ that we’d go get ourselves somethin’ to drink over at mah place? A-ah mean, not that Ah mean anything by that, Ah’m just thirsty, is all,” Ah stammered harder than a colt trottin’ into the girl’s bathroom and runnin’ into Miss Cheerilee.
“Shucks, let’s just do things one thing at a time, a’lright? Some lemonade first, then maybe a piece or two of yer cakes, then we’ll talk.” Mah forehoof rubbed agaisnt the side o’ mah head as Ah watched ya stand up ‘n’ glance around the room, yer eyes brightenin’ up when ya saw yer saddlebags.
Ya licked yer lips before talkin’, “Maybe we could try some of those cupcakes too! Miss Pie promised that they’d be de-lish!” Yer eyes closed up tight and ya smiled ‘till yer lips were quiverin’ right below yer ears. “Plus I get to eat some with a friend, right?”
“R-right,” Ah said. Turnin’ and bendin’ over, Ah grabbed yer sacks and tossed ‘em onta mah back, the chunky boxes pressin’ down on me before Ah straightened mah back. “Are ya ready t’ go? Sun’s hot and all that, but it should be bearable to just walk on home if we keep a steady pace. Oh, ‘n’ Ah should bring back that pail of paint; the empty one.”
The door swung open with just a smidgen of yer magic and let in a gush of warm, humid air. Both of us began to heave and breathe hard at the same time until finally we moved to the door, squishing ourselves against the frame to pass at the same time. Outside, the entire world seemed quiet.
The grass had stopped its swayin’, and the bugs had gone off to hide from the light; only the crickets still chirped their little warnings. We coughed through the hazy humidity and made our way down the steps while the sun scorched our backs.
Walkin’ fast enough that our legs were flashin’ beneath us, we raced for the woods and dove into the shadows of the oaks ‘n’ pines, sighin’ as the temperature dropped noticeably. “Whoo-wee, it’s hot out here,” Ah said.
You nodded yer agreement and kept on trottin’ beside me, head tilted to the ground below. The glow from yer horn reflected off the surroundin’ trees. “You know, I should be the one carrying that bag. It’s mine after all, and it’s not nice to let a filly do all the work.”
“If Ah wanna carry the bag then Ah will. Ya helped enough and ya shouldn’t have t’ work any more.”
With a shrug ya looked past me and to the rows of apple trees we were nearin’. “Then I guess I should have left the paint pail behind?”
When you saw the weird arch of mah eyebrow, ya smiled and the glow of yer horn shifted a little. Out from behind us came a very empty paint can wrapped up in yer magic. “You said that you wanted to bring it along, right?”
Our mutual scowlin’ at each other quickly turned into a shared smile, and finally Ah gave up ‘n’ giggled. “Al’right, so Ah forgot the pail. Thanks fer bringin’ it along, now could ya put it onta mah back?”
“Nope. I would want to hurt such a delicate filly by letting her bite off more than she can chew.”
Delicate?!
“Who ya callin’ a filly?!” Ah yelled at ya.
You grinned at me. “So, you’re not a filly? Well, then you’re the prettiest colt I’ve ever seen.”
“A-ah, but....” Glarin’ fiercely at you, it took mah brain a few ticks ta get into gear. “Hey! Are ya pullin’ mah leg?”
“No, but you’re carrying my saddlebags.”
Ah was in the shade of an apple tree, one o’ the ones far off to the side of our land that we hardly ever cared for, when Ah turned ta glare at ya again. “Oh, ye’re on that still? What’s wrong, can’t have a filly do yer work for ya? Afraid that Ah’m better than you? Ya know, fer a colt that needs so much help ya sure don’t look like you appreciate it.”
That made ya blink a few times. “That’s not it! Just don’t think it’s nice to have you carry all the stuff when it should be my job!”
“Fine, you can have yer bag,” Ah said, tryin’ to sound as complacent as possible as Ah slipped ‘em offa mah back.
Suspicious, you looked between me and the bags before liftin’ ‘em into the air and levitatin’ ‘em over. “Thanks—” ya began, and that’s when Ah kicked the tree.
Both of mah hooves swung out and around as every muscle in mah body pumped and pushed mah legs until mah hooves drove into the old tree with a bang like that of a thunder-clap.
One of the apples above yer head, a juicy, red and brown Delicious that was just hangin’ there from the end of a rotten stem, plopped out of of its place in the tree.
The whistle of the apple fallin’ only made you tilt yer eyes up in time t’ see the plump fruit splatter right onto the tip o’ yer horn, sending’ gooey pieces of apple flyin’ onto yer face. Yer magic failed as ya let out a shout o’ surprise and reared onto yer hind legs.
With a clatter, the saddlebags tumbled to the ground, one o’ the boxes burstin’ apart and spreadin’ baby blue cupcake bits onto the grass.
It took a ‘lil while, but ya looked up ta glare at me with yer purée-covered muzzle. T’ say the least, it wasn’t a very effective a glare. “Huh, if ye’re not gonna pick up those bags Ah’ll carry ‘em for ya.”
You grumbled a little, but under the muck, Ah could see a smile spreadin’ before ya bent down to grab at the bags. “No, I’m good—” you began to say when the paint pail on yer back tumbled over and plopped on the ground, emptyin’ what little paint was left on the grass.
Ah jammed a hoof over mah mouth to choke out the worse o’ the giggles then turned away from you. “Come on, Slick, drink’s on you,” Ah called over mah shoulder as Ah dove into the orchard.
It had been a good day. We got some work done and the weather was just startin’ to become endurable. Even though Ah hadn’t spent time with mah old friends, Ah was beginnin’ ta make a new one. Or maybe it was gonna be more than just a friendship.
We didn’t expect it to go south so fast.