Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Always running.
And then he did- All the way to the other barn entrance, where he ran face first into Big Mac's chest.
"Prairie," He said slowly, "You need to learn to face your problems." His voice was gentle but stern, and as Prairie stared, wide eyed into his brother's face, he swallowed hard, and nodded. There was no denying the red stallion; He felt humiliated; His own immaturity was only highlighted by the older pony's endless strength. Big Mac started walking him back toward Granny Smith and Applejack; Applejack's face was strained and stared at Big Mac with pain that only a little sister can muster, but Granny Smith was already on her hooves and back to her spry ways.
"Oh, Applejack, will ya quit yer cryin'? Girl, it's like yeh think I'm about to keel over right here! Now Prairie Fire, what you done's a bad thing, abandonin' yer family like that, but don't you ever forget we're yer family! You really think we'll never forgive ya?"
Granny Smith's face was full of all the maternal love Prairie always thought she saved for her real grandfoals, but as she swept him into her forhooves for a tight hug, it became clear that she, too, felt he was her real family. And for the millionth time that evening, two ponies were hugging and misting up. Applejack just stared, but Big Mac's stoic mouth was turned up a tiny bit at the corners, feeling content that his family was together. The exhaustion of the emotional reunion was beginning to wear Prairie down, as well as hunger; He'd been neither sleeping nor eating well for weeks, even by his standards, which were considerably lowered since his time off the farm. Even Granny Smith seemed to notice, giving his ribs a little squeeze as she hugged him.
"Discord's bells, Prairie, you been tryin'a live up to the starvin' artist type?"
But he didn't hear, because he was asleep in his grandmare's hooves. Granny Smith turned, business-like, toward the two older ponies.
"Well quitcher gawkin', and help me get this colt back in the house! Big Mac, you carry'im, and Applejack, you help an old filly walk back in this consarndit hour; Tarnation, but you young'ins gotta do all yer important business when Luna's got her moon high up in the sky!"
The two Apples rushed to follow her directions, while Granny gave a rueful sigh.
"I'm too old fer this nonsense..." But as her eyes traveled back to the colt, still wearing his black stetson, her mouth curled up in a smile, too. He was a good pony, she knew that. She'd always known it, even when he was a tiny little thing, covered in dirt and scratches and the horror he'd been through, begging for help. He was just misguided is all. Big Mac would be a good influence on him, and he, in turn, would be a good influence on Applejack. Such were Granny Smith's thoughts as Applejack helped her back into the house, so she could get some dang sleep!
---
"HE'S GONE!" Applejack raced down the steps, horrified- And she would never admit, but a little vindicated. "Granny Smith, Prairie Fire...is...gone?"
Her hooves slowed to a halt as she entered the kitchen, only to find Prairie Fire helping Granny Smith make breakfast. He turned to her, surprised she was up so early, and beamed. She met his eyes slowly, like a mare in a dream.
"Applejack, look! I'm makin' toast!"
Applejack did look, but not at the toast. Prairie Fire was there, in her kitchen. Granny Smith was hard at work cooking. Big Mac was sitting at the table, helping Applebloom into a high chair. The latter looked terribly pleased with the morning's happenings, shooting a toothy little-filly grin at Applejack.
"Ah gawt tew bruvers!" She squealed happily, not yet at the age of coherent speech.
Granny Smith turned around, mixing something delicious in a pan with a distinctly apple scent.
"Well, if it ain't miss sunshine! Get yer flank in here and set the table!"
Applejack automatically began setting up the table; Nothing, nothing would keep her from following an order from Granny Smith. As she hooved out the plates, a peculiar look of utter unreality overtook her eyes and mouth again. Prairie Fire was too content to notice. It seemed to him that nothing existed but that kitchen, the ponies in it, and their happy breakfast.
He wouldn't let himself think about how easy it had been to come back. How they had all just accepted him, and how unlikely that seemed. He couldn't. He needed this, this little bit of time, this memory of when everything fit, was warm and cozy and right. Soon, breakfast was ready, and everypony had a plate of apple pancakes and an apple muffin, some slices of apple, apple juice and apple sauce. How he had missed their homogeneously apple-based meals. Since he'd been trying to forget, as well as avoid, the Apply family, he'd never gone to buy any of their foods in the past two years, so he'd lived an apple free diet.
Prairie Fire was second only to Apple Bloom as the most blissful pony at the table that morning; He ignored Applejack's piercing stare, he didn't notice Big Mac shooting worried glances at Applejack between bites, he never saw Granny Smith's quizzical frown, her eyes settled on her oldest grandfilly; He ate, he made cute faces at Applebloom (Who squealed appreciatively,) and he occasionally rambled about his life at PaintStain Studios, and flippantly invited them to come view his art. His conversations were had alone, were strained and desperate to the ears of any sane pony who might have heard them, but were idle and pleasant to his own ears.
Soon, breakfast was over, with Applejack being the last one to finish, and Prairie the first. He hadn't forgotten the rules of the house; Nopony left the table until everypony was finished. When the meal was over, Applejack stood without a word and started gathering plates; Granny Smith joined her, keeping a hard eye on the orange pony, who was currently giving the floor a look that would parallel Fluttershy's Stare.
"-And it was the first time I'd ever painted something of winter! Rarity was so proud!" Prairie finished, eyes beaming toward Big Macintosh, who had only recently realized he was even being spoken to.
"...Eeeeeyup..." He mumbled absently, eyes still on Granny Smith and Applejack, who were heading into the other room. For a moment, hushed voices were heard from the living room, but when they suddenly started to rise, and not in a good way, Big Mac stood from the table and started to rush Prairie Fire to the door.
"Oh, you think I should go?" For a moment, it seemed that Prairie might actually clue in on the tension, but seemed like he was unable to come to terms with it; Unable to let himself. So, instead, he smiled largely, replying to himself, " Oh, of course! I have stuff to do, and you all have apples to buck, heheh, well, seeya later Big Macintosh! Tell Granny Smith and Applejack I said bye, oh, and sorry for eating and leaving, Jeez, uhh, you think I should apologize to Granny Smith myself?" He asked, by now on the other side of the door and trying to squish back in, being held back by a door firmly held in place by Big Mac.
"Eennnoope," grunted Big Mac, trying to force the door the rest of the way closed.
"You sure?" Prairie was almost wheedling now, Rarity's influence rearing its head a bit.
"Eeeeyyyup."
"Oh, well, okay then; Bye Big Mac, tell them I said-!"
THUMP
The door finally shut, and Big Mac sat back, breathing a sigh of relief.