//------------------------------// // The Long Road // Story: Feathers of Blue and Gold // by Ruirik //------------------------------// Fleetfoot’s first couple nights with the Apple family had been largely peaceful affairs. Granny Smith, the elderly matriarch of the family, had gone out of her way to make Fleetfoot feel at home; seeing to it that their guest room was immaculate, the sheets were clean and soft, and there was even a place for her at the family dinner table. It had been the first time in a very long time that Fleetfoot had enjoyed a fresh, home-cooked meal, and she wouldn’t deny that it had left her feeling somewhat spoiled. The rest of the family had been just as hospitable to her. Applejack, a straightforward and blunt mare, had shown her around the property and given Fleetfoot a basic idea of the tasks she’d be expected to do. Applebloom, an energetic little filly with a sizable bow in her red mane, had been relentless in her attempts to ensure the Wonderbolt’s comfort. As far as Fleetfoot could tell, Applebloom seemed to think her cutie mark revolved around it. Still, Fleetfoot had taken the lively introduction with understated class and style. Lastly she had been introduced to Big Macintosh, the eldest of the Apple family siblings. He towered over Fleetfoot and the rest of his family, with a coat as red as his namesake and an unkempt ginger mane. Yet despite his broad chest and massive size, he had a gentle disposition and was quite possibly the most soft-spoken pony Fleetfoot had ever met. The fact that he made for decent eye candy, at least for an earth pony, was also a plus. The guest room they had provided for Fleetfoot wasn’t very large by anypony’s standard. A simple twin bed was covered with a patchwork quilt hoofsewn by generations of the Apple family. Every panel of the quilt read like a tapestry of the different family branches, showing a small slice of life forever captured in the fabric. Fleetfoot didn’t understand the context of the images, but that did little to take away from the nostalgic beauty of the quilt. It also helped that the bed was surprisingly comfortable for a terrestrial mattress. Her third night there, Fleetfoot had enjoyed a fitful sleep, blissfully uninterrupted by some of the bad dreams that had been hounding her since she’d left Manehattan. However, as she began to wake, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. Forcing her eyes open, Fleetfoot quickly noticed she was face-to-face with the Apple family collie, Winona. Winona greeted Fleetfoot with a big, wet slurp to the face. “Thank you... dog,” the pegasus grumbled, wiping her face on the quilt. “I really... appreciated that.” Winona gave a happy bark before running out of the room. Pushing herself upright, Fleetfoot let out a loud yawn and stretched out her wings. After a quick preen, she slipped out of bed and trotted to the bathroom to wash her face. There wasn’t a point in showering yet, not when there was a full day of hard work ahead of her. Making her way downstairs, Fleetfoot saw Granny Smith helping Applebloom patch a red cape that seemed to be covered with old tears and what looked like dried tree sap. Her old hooves worked the needle with remarkable dexterity and the whole time she explained what she was doing to her granddaughter so one day Applebloom would be able to do it on her own. The sight made Fleetfoot smile; she recalled similar times spent with her grandmother when she was small. Noticing their guest, Granny Smith briefly halted her work. “G’mornin’ there, Miss Fleetfoot.” “Good morning, Ma’am, Applebloom,” Fleetfoot nodded respectfully to both. “P’shaw!” Granny Smith waved a hoof at Fleetfoot. “How many times I gotta tell ya ta call me Granny Smith?” “How come I’m not a Ma’am?” Applebloom asked. “Cause yer still a saplin’, darlin.” Granny Smith tousled Applebloom’s mane. “So,” Fleetfoot began awkwardly, “where can I find Applejack? I’m eager to get to work.” “Ain’tcha gonna have some breakfast first?” Applebloom asked, perking up with excitement. Fleetfoot rubbed her stomach with a hoof. “That... sounds pretty good, actually. Whatcha got?” “We got flapjacks in small mountains with fresh apple butter, hayfries, sandwiches, and cereals too!” Applebloom exclaimed as she bounced up and down on the couch. “Big Mac and Applejack put a mighty fine dent in em, but there’s still a ton left for you to pitch in!” “Flapjacks are... pancakes, right?” Fleetfoot asked, feeling rightly like a foal. Granny Smith barked a laugh. “Where’re you from that’cha don’t know a flapjack anyway, missy?” Heat blossomed in Fleetfoot’s cheeks and her feathers ruffled as she fidgeted her wings in the approximation of a shrug. “Hey now.” Applebloom hopped off the couch and darted up to Fleetfoot. “Ain’t no need to get embarrassed, we’re just funin’.” “I’m not embarrassed, I just... erm... had a hot flash?” Fleetfoot suggested. Granny Smith snorted. “Jus’ you wait, young’n.” “Pan... Flapjacks, please,” Fleetfoot said quickly, eager to end the awkward conversation. “Right this way!” Applebloom hollered, charging into the kitchen in a yellow and red flash. ‘Please, Celestia,’ Fleetfoot thought, following the hyper filly, ‘let there be coffee.’ To no small amount of relief, Fleetfoot had indeed found nearly half a pot of coffee left from the elder Apple siblings in addition to the promised ‘mountain’ of flapjacks. Fleetfoot didn’t know how Granny Smith had made such an insane amount of food so quickly, nor did she have the slightest idea who was going to eat it all. Perhaps, she decided, some things were best left unexplained. Filling a plate with half-a-dozen pancakes and a generous scoop of what Applebloom assured her was homemade apple butter, Fleetfoot sat down to enjoy her breakfast. The flavor was nothing shy of decadent; sweet and salty, with the apple flavor prominent, but not overwhelming. It was a wonder everypony in the apple family wasn’t morbidly obese, Fleetfoot thought. Forcing herself to forgeo a second—or third—helping, Fleetfoot took her plate to the sink and gently set it with the other dirty dishes. More or less the entire time she’d been eating, Applebloom had kept up a non-stop barrage of questions, comments, and a host of non sequiturs that left Fleetfoot entirely baffled. Fleetfoot wondered if the little filly was attempting to get her cutie mark in annoyance. She also wondered what a cutie mark in ‘annoying’ would look like anyways—maybe a picture of that pink-maned mare from town? Finally, when she could take no more of the incessant chattering, Fleetfoot held up a hoof and interrupted the filly. “Hey, Applebloom, could you tell me where your sister is? I kinda wanna get started with work today.” The question gave the filly only a moment’s pause to nod her head. “Applejack had to go inta town fer some stuff. She said to talk to Big Mac an’ he’ll give ya yer chores!” “All right, do you know where he’s at?” Fleetfoot asked. “He should be in the south field. I bet if ya fly around you’ll find ‘im right quick!” Nodding, Fleetfoot thanked Applebloom and made her way outside. The smell and atmosphere of the farm was wholly different than anything Fleetfoot was used to. Dirt and mud, the blossoms of apple trees with their delicate scent, and the fresh country air that rustled through the leaves. It was different than the pure, crisp, Cloudsdale air, and subtly charming. Fleetfoot leaned back, her body coiling for a moment before she sprang into the air. Her wings flared open, catching the warm morning’s air under her feathers before giving a mighty flap to gain altitude. She flew just above the treeline, high enough to avoid hitting any of the branches, but low enough that leaves occasionally brushed against her stomach. Big Macintosh was easy enough to find, his red coat stuck out quite nicely against the ocean of green that surrounded him. Fleetfoot found him sitting in front of one of the trees with his neck craned upward and his eyes focused on a dead branch. Coming to a soft landing behind him, Fleetfoot waited for a moment to see if he had noticed her arrival. When the large stallion made no indication he was aware of her presence, Fleetfoot stepped closer and politely cleared her throat. Big Mac slowly turned to face her with a friendly smile. “G'morning’,” Fleetfoot said with a bright smile. Big Mac gave her a polite nod. “Eeyup.” Awkward silence filled the space between them for a time, with Fleetfoot not sure what to say, and Big Mac seemingly uninterested in initiating conversation. She couldn’t tell if Big Mac was just trying to be extremely polite or if he was just very boring, or he could just be shy around mares, she supposed. “So,” Fleetfoot finally broke the silence. “Got some work for me?” “Eeyup,” Mac answered, nodding his head once. He turned towards the tree he’d been contemplating mere moments earlier and pointed his hoof at the dead branch. “We gotta get all the dead branches gathered up.” “Just for cleanliness or ‘cause they’ll damage the trees or somthing?” Fleetfoot asked, looking a bit confused. “Eeyup,” the stallion answered before turning to fetch a large cart with a few branches already piled in it. Fleetfoot lowered her head and sighed to herself. How had she fallen to this, she wondered. She was a Wonderbolt, and one of the very best to boot. So how was it that she found herself hiding in one of Equestria’s smallest backwater towns plucking dead branches from trees? She flinched and quickly slapped herself in the cheek. She could never forget why, no matter how badly she wanted to. With a dutiful frown, Fleetfoot looked up to the dead branch. “It’s gonna be a long day.” “Is is too late to bail? It can’t be too late to bail, right?” Rainbow Dash muttered for approximately the fiftieth time that morning. “It’ll be fine, Dash,” Spitfire said, calmly turning the page in the newspaper she was reading. Darting over to Spitfire, Rainbow grabbed the older mare’s shoulders and gave her a frantic shake. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s gonna be a disaster! They’re gonna freak out! Applejack’s gonna have a tree, Rarity’s gonna pass out, Pinkie’s gonna explode in blast of confetti and streamers!” “Wait, what?” Spitfire asked, looking both amused and concerned. Rainbow didn’t seem to notice the interruption. “And Twilight’s head is gonna spin like her creepy-as-buck owl and drag me into the basement to get hooked up to her creepy machine and—” “Are you describing a dungeon or the setup for a kinky sex scene?” Spitfire asked, peripherally aware those two options were not mutually exclusive. Rainbow halted her pacing for a moment, considering the question. “... Yes?” Spitfire reached out with her forelegs and pulled Rainbow into a small hug. “You’re learning; I’m so proud.” Rainbow returned the hug for a moment before squirming free of Spitfire’s embrace. “Can we bail? Pretty please?” she asked, pressing her front hooves together. “Rainbow,” Spitfire pulled the smaller mare into a firm hug. “Your friends aren’t gonna pass out, birth a tree, have their heads spin, or turn into a walking confetti bomb, okay?” “I still think I’d rather bail,” Rainbow mumbled as she rubbed her front hooves anxiously together. “Well I’d say go for it, but given we’ve only got one working wing a piece, I’d say that makes a speedy escape a bit tricky,” Spitfire said, a little frown pulling at her lips. Rubbing her chin with her good wing, Rainbow pondered the issue for a minute. Her eyes widened and she clapped her front hooves together. “I got it!” “I’m sorry, it’s not contagious is it?” “Hardy har har, smartass,” Rainbow said with a roll of her eyes. Spitfire laughed, sitting up and pulling Rainbow into another tender hug. “What’s your idea?” “We get a two by four, hang on to opposite sides, and we each flap our good wing until we’re somewhere that’s not here.” Spitfire scoffed and shook her head. “I see absolutely nothing that could go wrong with such a carefully thought out plan.” “Okay, wait, I got it!” Rainbow turned to face Spitfire. “We need a rope!” “Well, it’s not my cup of tea, but if that’s what makes you happy…” Spitfire winked. “No, not... uhg.” Rainbow put her head in her hooves, unable to resist a giggle in spite of herself. “You wanna?” “Wanna what, try and fly away?” Spitfire asked. Rainbow shook her head. “No; you wanna get tied up?” Spitfire didn’t think it was possible, but Rainbow had actually managed to make her blush. She leaned over, wrapping a hoof around Rainbow’s shoulders and nuzzling her cheek. “I don’t know... are you good with a rope?” “Maybe Applejack will teach me a couple of tricks,” Rainbow said, returning the nuzzle. She was glad the train from Canterlot to Ponyville was almost empty, Rainbow always felt more relaxed when she had a little privacy. Spitfire held Rainbow close and gently kissed her cheek as her good wing wrapped around Rainbow. Closing her eyes, Spitfire allowed the world around her to fade away. All that mattered was the mare snuggled against her, and the steady beat of her heart. “Look, Rainbow,” Spitfire began slowly, nuzzling Rainbow again. “I know it’s scary, coming out to your friends I mean. Believe me. The only thing that ever scared me worse was seeing you after the accident.” Rainbow had no reply to Spitfire’s comments save for the tightening of her grip around the older mare’s waist. “But believe me, once it’s all out there, you’ll look back and wonder why you ever waited so long,” Spitfire said, kissing atop Rainbow’s mane. “Living with a secret like that constantly hanging over your head is the fastest way to a gray mane.” “Daring Do has a gray mane,” Rainbow mumbled. “Probably ‘cause she didn’t get laid,” Spitfire teased. Rainbow snorted and gave Spitfire’s foreleg a playful smack. “Besides,” Spitfire continued, “even if we could fly, your lung still isn’t ready for that kind of stress. Your dad will kill me if I let you overdo things before you’re ready.” Rainbow’s ears folded back and she absently touched a small, fading scar on her left side where the chest tube had been. “I can breathe fine.” “Rainbow, honey.” Spitfire’s hoof lifted Rainbow’s chin so they were eye to eye. “You were exhausted walking from the train station to the cafe we got lunch at in Canterlot.” “I was just…” Rainbow sighed, leaning forward until their foreheads bumped together. “I hate this.” “How’s your pain been, by the way?” Spitfire asked in a quiet voice. Rainbow made a little shrug, nestling herself against Spitfire’s body. “Okay, I guess. The bumps aren’t a lotta fun, but I’ll deal.” She looked up to Spitfire and gave her cheek a little kiss. “What about yours?” “I took one of the pills when we left the Canterlot station, so it’s been pretty good,” Spitfire answered, neglecting to mention the one she took before they got to the station and the one she took when Rainbow had been napping earlier on the ride. Rainbow nodded. “I might take half a’ one, but then we’ll be in Ponyville in a few hours.” “So?” Spitfire gently nudged Rainbow. “Take a half a pill, we’ll take it easy, and by the time we get to Ponyville you’ll be good to go.” “You think so?” Rainbow asked, looking uncomfortable with the idea. Nodding, Spitfire planted a kiss on Rainbow’s forehead. “I promise, Dash.” Rainbow’s forelegs gave Spitfire’s waist a little squeeze. “Hey, Spitfire?” “Hey, Dash?” “I love you,” Rainbow whispered into her ear. Spitfire smiled, her lips pressing against Rainbow’s in a tender kiss. “I love you too.”