//------------------------------// // 2: Taking a load off // Story: Growth // by Squinty Mudmane //------------------------------// Applejack closed the door to the library behind her, chewing on a wholewheat toast with melted cheesy goodness, courtesy of Spike. Twilight had eagerly embraced the proposed task, promising to get started as soon as her meeting with Mayor Mare was done. She had even predicted she could have a draft for the whole thing ready by the evening. Applejack had tried to assure Twilight that there was no rush, but knowing how caught up the studious mare tended to get in her work, she would probably not only have a draft, but have it printed in three copies, with detailed graphs and figures to go with it. Before leaving to head back to work in the orchard, Applejack had assured Twilight that she would come by later. Rainbow had remained behind to give Twilight a crash course in preening before her meeting so that she, in Rainbow’s words, “wouldn’t look like a lightning-zapped crow.” We oughta slap some posters up around town to let others know about the competition, Applejack thought as she munched on the delicious warm snack. Or ask Pinkie to spread the word. That’d be just as effective. Pinkie herself would probably want to do the announcing again, as would Spike. Applejack doubted that either Rarity or Fluttershy would want to participate in the actual contests, but perhaps they could keep track of the score. Fluttershy had done a good job at that last time. No doubt Rarity would design some extravagant outfit for the occasion, though. She had the sudden unbidden image in her mind of Rarity and Fluttershy dressed up in outrageously colourful and voluminous cheerleader outfits, complete with pom-poms, and she very nearly choked on a mouthful of toast as involuntary laughter wracked her stomach, drawing a worried glance from Roseluck in her flower booth. Applejack gave her a cheerful wave after finally swallowing to let her know that everything was fine. We’ll probably have to use the area next to the eastern orchard again. Plenty of open and flat space there. Applejack flicked her tongue over her teeth and softly chewed the inside of her cheek. It’s gonna take a lot of work to get everything set up, though. Best make sure there’s nothing urgent left to be done around the farm. Maybe get that window pane in the barn fixed up while I’m at it… “Applejack! Sis! Look!” Applejack paused and looked over her shoulder past the small cart full of apple baskets that she was dragging, to see her little sister zooming towards her, beaming like a little sun. Apple Bloom’s slightly tattered Crusader cape billowed behind her, fluttering like wings. She was riding a scooter similar to the one Scootaloo often sped around on, except this one was bright red, and she was wearing a matching crash helmet on her head. While she appeared to be somewhat wobbly on the scooter, she more than made up for this in sheer enthusiasm. “Well, I’ll be, lil’ sis! That’s a mighty fine ride ya got there,” Applejack said with a smile as Apple Bloom pulled to a screeching, not entirely elegant stop next to her. She shrugged out of the cart’s harness and looked at the scooter closely. It certainly looked to be of high quality, with polished metal and a fresh layer of paint. The filly grinned from ear to ear. “I know, right? Scootaloo’s dad gave it to me! He made it himself! Sweetie Belle got one too! Isn’t it cool?” “It sure is. He just gave ‘em to ya? Well, that’s mighty kind of him!” Apple Bloom nodded vehemently in agreement. “Yeah, he’s super nice! He’s a mechanic, so he can build lots of technical doohickeys! He’s got his own workshop an’ everythin’!” “That so? Well, maybe I should ask him to fix the cart next time it breaks down.” Applejack grinned, then gave her sister a more serious look. “You be careful on that scooter, though, ya hear? Keep that helmet on.” Apple Bloom gave her an offended look. “I ain’t no idiot, Applejack! I know how to do this!” Applejack held up a placating hoof. “I ain’t sayin’ that, AB. I’m just sayin’ you and the other gals sometimes get a bit caught up in the whole crusadin’ thing.” “Sheesh, you’re startin’ to sound like Rarity.” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “I said I know how to do this.” Applejack fought the urge to do the same. Sometimes, arguing with Apple Bloom was like… Well, I suppose it’s how the girls have it at times when they have to argue with me. She opted for a different approach instead. “All right, just don’t expect me to get ya down from a tree when ya end up catapultin’ yerself into one,” she said with an indifferent shrug. Apple Bloom laughed and swiped a hoof ineffectually in the general direction of her sister. “Come on, sis, we both know you’d be the first one there. With a ladder, too.” Applejack cursed own predictability, but she could not even pretend to argue; of course she would be there the moment her sister needed help, no matter what. To do anything else was unthinkable. “Aw shucks, you’re right, AB, but that ain’t an excuse for you to go an’ get in trouble, ya hear?” Applejack said. Perhaps Apple Bloom sensed the earnest concern in her voice, or maybe she just wanted to get on with things. Either way, she nodded with a surprisingly sober expression. “I hear ya, sis. I’ll be careful, don’t worry.” Applejack smiled and pulled her sister into a hug, which Apple Bloom happily returned. “Glad to hear it.” She let go after a moment and gave her sister a little grin. “Now, you wanna help me haul this cart over to the barn and get the apples into the storage?” Apple Bloom nodded eagerly. “Sure! Just let me park my scooter an’ I’ll come help!” Stowing away the harvest took until the better part of midday, at which time she and Apple Bloom went back to the farmhouse for lunch together with Granny Smith. After finishing up, Apple Bloom headed off to meet with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, promising to be back in time for dinner. Applejack busied herself for the rest of the afternoon with various tasks around the farm, from rearranging barrels in the cider cellar to giving Winona some much-appreciated playtime, though the window pane in the barn remained unrepaired due to the lack of glass in the proper size. Later in the evening, once the last cup had been put back in its place on the kitchen shelf, Applejack ran through a mental checklist in her head. Dinner had been eaten, the dishes had been cleaned, Granny Smith had dozed off for a nap, and Apple Bloom was busy with homework in preparation for the resumption of school on Monday. Satisfied, Applejack trotted out the front door and set a course for Ponyville to check up on Twilight like she promised. It was well and truly dark by now, the sun having sunk beneath the horizon close to an hour ago. A chill wind brushed against Applejack’s fur as she trotted along the road leading out of Sweet Apple Acres. She had briefly considered taking the timeworn oil lantern hanging by the doorway to the farmhouse with her, but had decided against it; she knew the road to and from Ponyville well enough that she could walk it in the dark. Bringing the lantern would have burned fuel, and Applejack did not like wasting resources when it was not strictly necessary. A very fine drizzle began to fall from the gloomy clouds overhead, and Applejack pulled her Stetson a little more firmly over her head as fallen leaves rustled past her hooves, carried along by the wind. The weather team had really outdone themselves in creating a weather for the evening that just screamed autumn. Rainbow had assured her that it would still be another two weeks at least before the temperature at night might drop below freezing, but Applejack still almost wished she had brought her raincoat with its warm lining. Come on now, missy, are you an earth pony or not? Tough it out! A bit of chill never hurt anypony, least of all you! Applejack upped her pace to a light canter and started to whistle a tune. It was light and cheerful, one of those she liked to play on her fiddle when she was alone and had free time. Though she occasionally brought the instrument out on festive occasions, she mostly preferred to play it when she was on her own; then she could simply play as her whimsy decreed, rather than having to play to the mood of a crowd. She did not consider herself to be exceptionally gifted or talented, but she liked what she was able to produce well enough, and in the end, that was what really mattered, was it not? She stepped into the light of the first lamp post leading to Ponyville as she crossed the bridge of the stream she had leapt across the same morning. The lantern creaked on its hinge as it rocked gently back and forth in the wind. Past its brothers, light seeped through the closed shutters and drawn curtains in the windows of the outlying houses. Trotting up the empty street, it was apparent that most of Ponyville’s residents had retired for the night. Applejack could hear muted laughter and conversation behind closed doors, and particularly raucous mirth as she passed the local tavern. No blinds were drawn over the windows here; light, warm and inviting, streamed from the windows, along with music and the smell of delicious, greasy, pan-fried food. She was sorely tempted to stop by once she had visited Twilight, perhaps have a mug of cider or a little snack before heading home. She shook her head to clear it of the beguiling light from the tavern and headed towards the library instead; she had work to do tomorrow and other things to take care of right now. The rain—light and fine though it might be—was starting to soak her fur, and she looked forward to getting indoors. She knocked on the door and was greeted by Twilight after a few moments. The other mare looked much better now; the fatigue was gone from her face, and her wings seemed to be in pristine condition to Applejack’s untrained eye, with scarcely a feather out of place. “Oh, hello, Applejack! Please, come in.” “Thanks, Twi,” Applejack replied, wiping her hooves on the doormat before stepping inside. Twilight’s expression became one of fretful concern when she noticed Applejack’s wet coat. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t think the weather would be this bad when I asked you to come. Hang on, I’ll get you a towel.” Before Applejack could protest and assure her that it was no problem, Twilight dashed off towards her bedroom, returning moments later with a large purple towel. Applejack took the proffered cloth with equal parts resignation and gratitude and quickly dried off the worst of the rain. Still with a somewhat guilty look, Twilight hung the towel on a rack and scuffed a hoof at the floor. “So, got some good ideas for the competition?” Applejack asked in a cheerful tone to try and lift the alicorn’s spirits again. “I’m keen to hear yer take on it.” Twilight’s lips broke into a smile, probably relieved that she could move into familiar territory. “Oh, lots of ideas! It was a lot of fun thinking up how best to make it fair for everypony. Shall we go upstairs, or do you want me to bring my notes down here?” “Let’s go on up. I’m guessin’ there are a lot of papers?” Applejack gave her friend a wry smile as she followed Twilight up the stairs. “Well… a few, yes,” Twilight replied, nodding. “Charts and diagrams, too?” “Oh yes. Everything is better with diagrams.” Twilight’s room was still crowded, but the stacks of books seemed to have diminished somewhat, and those that remained had been moved off to one end of the room in a way that suggested they were not needed for a while. Instead, the writing desk was cluttered with papers full of notes and sketches, all of which Applejack could immediately see would tell her absolutely nothing without some sort of context. “So,” Twilight said, turning to face Applejack with the smile of someone about to present a cherished piece of work, “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, but I think I’ve been able to boil it down to some fairly simple and easy ideas. What we’ll do is that we’ll have twenty or so different contests just like last time, where ponies compete against each other one on one. Ponies sign up in pairs with whoever they want to compete with, and then they go through each of the contests together. The alternative would have been to assign pairs randomly, but that might result in some unfair match-ups. This way, ponies who sign up will face off against somepony they feel comfortable with, so that should also make for more intense competition.” Applejack nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense,” she agreed. Having someone like Rainbow go up against a comparatively weaker athlete would be something of a lopsided battle. “I concur with your suggestion of dividing competitors by race, too. I think it makes it more fair, but it also makes it easier to organize. The same contests can still be used for all pairs; after all, a strength contest is not unfair to one side as long as they’re both unicorns, and so on. Rainbow and I had some trouble agreeing on whether or not wings should factor into contests or not, though. She wanted to have contests where, hrm, ‘awesomeness’ could factor into victory. I told her that contests had to be possible to be objectively won in order for it to be fair. Relying on impressing the scorekeepers the most wouldn’t really be feasible.” “And?” Applejack prompted, already guessing the answer. “Well, she agreed eventually, but she wasn’t happy about it,” Twilight said, to Applejack’s mild surprise. “Wings are allowed for some contests, like the long jump contest, where competing pegasi may use their wings to glide—but not fly—extra distance.” “What about magic?” “I thought about that. The Iron Pony competition is about physical prowess, right?” Applejack nodded in affirmation. “Right,” Twilight continued. “I don’t think magic is compatible with that, and since magic can be used to render most of the challenge in a lot of the contests void, I feel it is best if magic is banned from the competition entirely.” “Seems fair,” Applejack agreed. “Different races can still sign up together if they want, of course. It wouldn’t do to forbid two friends from competing just because one has wings and the other doesn’t, but they just have to agree that one of them may have an advantage in certain contests.” “Were ya thinkin’ of havin’ some kind of elimination system? Or are all pairs basically fightin’ in their own little tournament?” Twilight rubbed the back of her neck, looking a bit lost for a moment. “Well, uh, I hadn’t really planned on that kind of system, no. I just thought each pair could face off, have fun, maybe settle some kind of grudge match, if that’s what they want. It’s really all just about having a good time… isn’t it?” She looked at Applejack uncertainly. Applejack smiled and patted Twilight reassuringly on the shoulder. “If ya ask me, yeah, it’s all in good fun. Rainbow might want somethin’ more to determine some kinda overall winner, but her ego don’t really need more boostin’.” She shook her head, feeling bad already for saying that. “Aw shucks, I shouldn’t be talkin’ ‘bout her like that. She’s come a long ways since then.” Twilight just nodded, apparently opting not to comment on it. “For the contests, I thought we could just reuse the ones from last time. There was a good mix of disciplines and tests of skills there.” “Even the buckin’ contest?” Applejack asked after a moment. Twilight let out a soft laugh. “Applejack, nopony is going to think it’s unfair just because you’re good at it. Who knows,” she said, looking at Applejack with a twinkle of mirth in her eye, “maybe you’ll find that somepony else in Ponyville is even better than you at kicking things really hard.” Applejack grinned sheepishly and shrugged in a manner she hoped was nonchalant. Excessive pride was not exactly a virtue by Applejack’s standards, but at times she was as guilty of it as the next pony. “Ah, well, ya never know. Anyhoo,” she said quickly, “we oughta start lettin’ other ponies know if we’re gonna get this thing done before the Runnin’ of the Leaves. Don’t suppose you—” Twilight levitated a poster from her desk and showed it to Applejack with a triumphant grin. It read: THE IRON PONY COMPETITION Do you fancy yourself an athlete? Do you like to compete? Do you have a friend you want to challenge? Then sign up for the Iron Pony Competition! Contestants will fight each other in a series of challenging physical events. Sign up as a pair to enter the competition. In the spirit of fairness, it is recommended that ponies of the same race compete against each other, but anypony can sign up with whoever they want to challenge. If you do not wish to enter the contest, but still want to spectate, then simply show up, have a seat, and cheer and root for your favourite contestants! The location will be From then on, the rest of the poster was blank, with a fair chunk in the bottom half still waiting to be filled. “Looks great, Twi!” Applejack said appreciatively and smiled. “Obviously this is just a rough draft, but do you think something along these lines is what we should aim for?” Twilight asked, turning the poster to look at it herself. Applejack nodded. “Sure, that should work nicely. Maybe let Rarity have a gander at it, too. That girl’s got a flair for the bombastic. She could probably add somethin’ to it, too.” “Good idea. I talked with Mayor Mare about this as well when I was meeting with her. She was happy to let us use the town’s equipment to set everything up, as long as nothing gets damaged too severely. She was quite insistent on that last part.” “Well, that’s mighty kind of her! Don’t suppose she’s plannin’ on competin’ herself?” Twilight laughed. “Hardly, but she did say she was going to be among the spectators. She told me that she enjoyed watching last year’s competition tremendously. Anyway, if I run the poster by Rarity tomorrow morning, we could probably start distributing copies around noon. I already talked to Ink Blot over at Ponyville Weekly for permission to use the printing press for a short while.” Applejack let out a low whistle. “Seems like you’ve really been taking care of things, Twi.” The alicorn smiled proudly. “I’m very good at organizing.” “You sure are.” Applejack grinned at her friend; it was too tempting not to prod her just a little. “Maybe you got it wrong, Twi. Maybe yer special talent ain’t magic; it’s bein’ a secretary.” She narrowly dodged the first pillow thrown at her, but the next two flopped against her face with fearsome feathery force. She held up her front hooves to shield herself. “All right, I give up! It’s magic!” she cried out between fits of laughter. Twilight nodded with a satisfied smile and lowered the particularly large and fluffy purple pillow she had been readying in a magical grip. “That’s better.” Applejack picked herself up from the floor brushing a few downs off her shoulders. “Anyway, I just wanna say thanks, Twi. That’s an amazin’ effort you put into this on such short notice. We’ll have this off the ground in no time.” “It’s my pleasure, really,” Twilight said with a smile. “I’ll stay among the spectators until the Running of the Leaves, though.” “Sure, Twi. Ain’t nopony forcin’ you to participate. Maybe you could join Pinkie an’ Spike as a commentator?” Twilight shook her head and grinned. “I think they’ve got that well in hoof. The moment Spike heard that there was going to be another Iron Pony competition, he rushed off to find Pinkie and hatch plans on how to best do the announcing.” Applejack smiled at the thought of Pinkie and Spike huddled over a strategic map, plotting optimal positions to be heard from and possibly the construction of a humongous megaphone. “Any idea who you’ll be challenging?” Twilight asked. Applejack chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. She had not really thought all that much about it. “I dunno. Maybe Rainbow, but half the reason we wanted to open the event up was to be able to go up against some new faces. Hmm… Caramel? Bon-Bon?” She shrugged lightly. “Shucks, I dunno, really. I’ll figure it out soon enough.” Twilight nodded, holding a hoof to her mouth and putting up a valiant effort to try and suppress her yawn. “Oh, I’m sorry. I think my sleeping rhythm is still a little off…” she said, giving Applejack an apologetic look. Applejack gave the alicorn a comradely hug around the shoulders with a foreleg. “Don’t worry about it, Twi. I oughta head back home soon, anyhow. Tomorrow’s still got its share of chores to do. You have a good night now.” “You too, Applejack,” Twilight said, returning the gesture. “I promise I’ll get the poster done first thing once I get up,” she called after Applejack as the latter headed down the stairs and towards the front door. “Don’t sweat it, sugarcube. Just do it whenever ya feel like it,” she called back before stepping outside and closing the door behind her. The light downpour continued in much the same way as when Applejack had arrived, though the wind seemed to have picked up. The more sensible part of her mind told her that it only felt that way because she had just come out from a warm place, but the tavern looked more inviting than ever as she approached it. She stopped near the entrance, wrestling with indecision. On one hoof, it was getting late, and if she was going to get up at her usual time to get to work on her chores, she really should more or less be heading to bed within the hour. On the other hoof, it was not like there was all that much for her to do tomorrow; most of the late-season apples still had not ripened, and the only non-harvest chores she could think of could not take more than a few hours at most to do. So what? Chores are chores. Doesn’t matter if it’s replacing a single roof tile or bucking an entire orchard, you do them right either way. Granny didn’t raise a sloth. Just as she put one hoof in front of the other to walk on home, a familiar voice called out over the wind: “Oi! Evening, Applejack! What’re you doing out so late?” Applejack looked over to her right where Berry Punch came trotting towards her from one of the side streets. The earth pony mare seemed unfazed by the rough weather, smiling in a friendly manner as she approached. “Hey, Berry,” Applejack greeted in return with a tip of her hat. “I’m just on mah way back home from Twilight’s. Yerself?” “Roseluck needed a hoof getting home. Filly knows how to drink, but for an earth pony, she’s awfully bad at actually holding her liquor,” Berry replied with a little shrug. “She’s gonna wake up with a herd of buffalo stampeding through her head tomorrow.” Applejack winced slightly in sympathy. “That bad, huh?” “She’s a lightweight, and she doesn’t really realise how much she drinks when she’s chatting. And the more she drinks, the more she chats.” Berry let out a little sigh. “It’s a shame. She’s very entertaining when she’s tipsy.” She lit up in another smile after a moment. “But hey, what about you? Care to join me for a drink?” “Nawh, I really can’t,” Applejack replied with a shake of her head. “Gotta get up bright’n’early tomorrow. Well, early, anyway.” Berry scoffed lightly. “Come on, one drink never hurt anypony. Besides, when was the last time you just kicked back and relaxed, anyway?” “I can relax in between chores…” Applejack protested, but Berry had already put a hoof around her shoulder and was steering her towards the door of the inn. “Yeah, well, if you ain’t gonna do it for yourself, do it for me. I’ve still got wine left to finish, and I’d feel like a sot if I sat in there drinking all by myself this late.” Applejack sighed good-naturedly. “All right, fine, one drink,” she relented, doing her best to quash the nagging feeling that she was being neglectful. Better add one more chore to the list tomorrow to make up for this, she thought. The inside of the tavern was as warm and pleasant as its siren song had promised. The bar was on the right from the entrance, with its long counter for serving drinks and food. A large mirror hung on the wall behind the counter along with shelves of various colourful beverages, set in a manner likely intended to evoke the atmosphere of a frontier saloon, similar to the one in Appaloosa. The rest of the interior looked more like what Applejack considered a ‘normal’ tavern, all big planks of unpolished oak and whitewashed walls of roughly hewn stone. The fireplace crackled, flames dancing merrily in the hearth and spreading warmth throughout the well-insulated tavern. Music, in a cheerful, upbeat tempo, rattled from the jukebox—probably the most advanced piece of technology in the tavern—which stood near the stairs leading to the bedrooms on the first floor. A pair of stallions, one unicorn and one pegasus, was busy playing a game of pool at the table in one corner. Other ponies, mostly in twos or threes, sat at various tables, chatting, laughing, drinking, some with plates of fried food from the kitchen behind the bar. Applejack spotted Lyra, Bon-Bon, Minuette and Carrot Top at one table, with Lyra entertaining the other mares with some story or another. Applejack could not make it the details, but judging from their equal parts shocked and incredulous expressions and bouts of uncontrollable laughter, it was probably one of Lyra’s more scandalous tales. Berry guided Applejack to the bar where a lone, half-finished glass of wine stood on the counter. Berry climbed onto one of the stools and took the glass, motioning for Applejack to sit next to her. As Berry tapped the chimer on the counter, Applejack settled onto the other stool and glanced around again. It was rare that she stopped by the tavern except in the company of others and when the occasion was festive. She tended to start feeling guilty if she sat around too long in a place like this doing nothing productive. Darn workaholic self-chastisement. “So how are things around Sweet Apple Acres?” Berry asked, turning her head towards Applejack. “For all the stuff you say you have to do tomorrow, I can’t imagine there’s that much to do around this time.” “Well, things are pretty slow around the farm right now,” Applejack admitted. “Still, Pinkie asked me if her family can come visit, so I wanna make sure everything’s in tip-top shape.” Berry nodded in understanding. “I hear you. Personally, I’m all done in the vineyard for now. Frees up a lot of time to just relax.” Berry ran a small vineyard just outside Ponyville. Even though it was only a fraction of the size of Sweet Apple Acres, Berry was able to harvest enough grapes from it and produce enough wine from those to not only cover all the expenses of her and her daughter, but to make a tidy profit on top of it. Applejack had heard that some of the most prestigious restaurants in Canterlot practically fought over the limited number of wine bottles Berry produced every year. Where other vintners would need decades to produce their best wines, Berry could produce wine of equal or surpassing quality in two or three years. Applejack had no idea how the mare did it, but then again, she had always assumed Berry’s cutie mark, a bunch of grapes, was there for a reason. Even with her success, however, Berry had never showed much interest in expanding her production beyond the small vineyard she tended with her daughter. She even kept a good deal of her produce for herself rather than selling it, even though she could likely have made twice as many bits from the sale. Applejack had once asked Berry about it, and she had replied that she was not a vintner because she wanted to be rich, but because she enjoyed the very process of making wine, from watching the grapes sprout to corking the finished product. Applejack had always found that very admirable. The other mare glanced towards a half-open door on the other side of the counter and sighed a bit. “Mug’s gotta be out back in the kitchen. Darned spawn of a walrus probably can’t hear us over his blasted frying pan…” She leaned over the counter. “Hey, Muggy! Get your fat butt in here! You’ve got thirsty customers!” she yelled at the door leading out to the back, smacking the little chimer on the counter for good measure. “Oi, ’old yer ruddy gob, Berry!” a deep voice shouted back from the other side of the door. After a moment, it was pushed open and the tavern’s owner stepped through. Chugging Mug was a fairly stout stallion with a beige coat, a reddish mane and a cutie mark of a heavily slanted wooden mug. He wore a grease-stained apron and had an open, jovial expression on his face. Applejack was fairly certain his picture would appear if one was to look up the word ‘barkeep’ in an illustrated dictionary. His heavy-set face lit up in a smile on seeing Applejack. “Well, hey there, Applejack. Long time no see. What’s yer poison?” Applejack gave him a little wave. “Just somethin’ light. Cider’d be great, if ya got any.” “Aye, one cider comin’ up.” The barkeep grabbed a mug from one of the shelves and headed over to the tap. He had an odd sort of accent, more urban than what one would normally find in Ponyville or even Canterlot, though Applejack could never tell if it was his real accent or just an affected one. She had heard it slip a couple of times. She passed a pair of bits over the counter in return for the beverage proffered by Chugging. “A’ight, Berry?” he asked, looking at the other mare. “Need a refill?” “Just top me off, then that’ll do me for tonight,” Berry replied. The barkeep fished a bottle of wine from beneath the counter and emptied it into Berry’s glass. “Give us a shout if ya need anythin’ else, right? I’ll be in the kitchen.” “How’s yer kid doin’, then?” Applejack asked Berry as Chugging headed out the back again. She took a draught of her cider, letting the deliciously cool liquid wash around in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. “She’s doing great. I’m letting her make a batch of wine all on her own this year,” Berry said with a fond smile. “She’s taking to it like a duck to water.” Applejack chuckled. “She’ll be givin’ you stiff competition in no time at all, no doubt.” “If she keeps going at this rate, she will.” Berry took a sip of her wine, letting out a relishing sigh. “How are things with your brother and Cheerilee? Still going strong?” “Stronger than ever, I’d say. They’re off in Baltimare to visit Cheerilee’s old folks. The only thing I wonder is which of ‘em is gonna propose first.” “If I were a gambling mare, I’d place my bits on Cheerilee,” Berry said with a wry smile. “No offence to your brother.” Applejack waved a hoof dismissively. “None taken. You’re probably right, too; you wouldn’t believe it by lookin’ at him, but that big lummox can be more timid than Fluttershy at times.” Berry shrugged lightly and took another sip. Behind them, the table with the four mares broke into uproarious laughter again as Minuette told the others a particularly raunchy joke. “Well, you never know, maybe some of Cheerilee’s gregariousness is gonna rub off him.” “Stranger things have happened,” Applejack conceded. “M-hm,” Berry replied. “So, Pinkie’s family, eh? How’d it turn out again with you two? Were you related or not?” “Couldn’t get a straight answer from any records, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s Apple through and through,” Applejack said firmly. The bumpy road trip she, her family and Pinkie had gone on had erased any doubts in her mind regarding that. “So that’d make her parents your… aunt and uncle?” “A distant branch of it, yeah, but family nonetheless,” Applejack confirmed. Berry nodded. “Right. Genealogy was never my strong side.” They sat in companionable silence for a while, each sipping their respective drinks and occasionally looking over at the pool table to keep track of the unfolding game. The unicorn was winning. Berry finished her glass of wine and glanced up at the clock above the mirror. “Well, guess I should head on home. Mini-Berry’s supposed to come back from Aura’s in some twenty minutes. Thanks for keeping me company.” She tapped the chimer on the counter again, summoning Chugging Mug from the kitchen. He was chewing on something vaguely resembling a sandwich, pan-fried and greasy. “Yeah?” he grunted in between munching. “I assumed you’d want payment for that cheap hooch you tried to pawn off on me, Muggy,” Berry said with a saccharine smile. “Sure thing, luv. You’re ‘alf the reason I can afford to keep this place stocked up. Lessee…” He chowed down the rest of his sandwich and grabbed a notepad from one of the shelf. “So that’s one bottle o’ pinot noir, plus that leftover from last time… Yep, thirty-five bits seems about right.” Berry counted out the bits and passed them to the barkeep. “Here you go. And you know, one day you’re going to choke on those lumps of grease you eat.” “Not today, though,” Chugging said cheerfully as he pocketed the bits in his apron. “You take care now, Berry.” “You too, Muggy.” Berry slipped off her stool and nodded at Applejack. “Have a nice evening, Applejack. Say hi to your family from me, will you?” Applejack nodded. “Will do, Berry. You do the same.” Berry headed for the door without as much as an unsteady sway in her hooves. After she had left, Applejack turned to Chugging. “How much did ya say she’d had, again?” “’Bout a bottle an’ a quarter. Bit more than usual for ’er. Normally she doesn’t have leftovers,” he replied, picking up Berry’s glass and cleaning it. Applejack shook her head and took another sip. Even for an earth pony, Berry had an incredible physiology. She reminded herself once again never to challenge the vintner to a drinking contest. She suspected Berry’s liver was made of iron or something similar. She stuck around to follow the pool game to its conclusion while finishing up her cider. The pegasus stallion eventually won after a fairly impressive comeback, much to the chagrin of his friend. Applejack placed her empty mug on the counter, bade Chugging a good night and headed for the door to make the trek back home.