“Y’all did WHUT?”
Rainbow Dash was smirking like Applejack had never seen. “We got them.”
The earth pony stared up from her bed, casts awkwardly propped against the footboard. “Them tapestries? What, all of them?”
“Uh-huh.” Dash’s smugness was so thick it could’ve buttered toast.
“You all went back without me? Ya couldn’t wait?”
“Nope. I said ‘we’, but I didn’t mean everypony.”
“Then who?”
Rainbow Dash’s wings lifted in pride—and, clearly, the desire to show off. “Oh, just me and Twilight Sparkle. That’s all.” She waited, and after a slight pause, added, “You’re supposed to cheer, AJ. Right? Can I get a ‘Hooray, Rainbow Dash, you’re the best’?”
Applejack wasn’t cheering. “Ya shouldn’a done it. It’s dangerous.”
“It was not! It was easy!”
“You’re seriously gonna stand there, right in front of me, when I’m still laid up with busted legs, and you tell me it wasn’t dangerous?”
“Well… not for us! You shoulda seen Twilight, zang, whoosh, zap! I flew air support and watched out for her while we traveled there, and I kicked in all the doors myself! Whoosh, she floats all the tapestries out, and I’m flying shuttle flights back to Ponyville so Rarity could put them on special stands she made, and on the way back this huge magic bear jumped out at us but Twilight floated right up into the air on her magic! And she couldn’t move very fast that way but I flew down, zoom, and I kicked it in the belly, again and again, until it cried and ran off! Um, I think that was its belly. Or close to its belly. But it was awesome!”
Applejack’s expression was filled with dismay. “Dangerous! You can’t just do things like that, Dashie! Please wait until I kin be there to protect you?”
Dash’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I can’t take care of myself?”
“Oh, Dashie—I’m tryin’ to say, it hurts my heart that you should have to.”
“Awwww.” Dash hugged her marefriend. “It’s so easy to forget how sweet you really are, Applejack. But seriously—we were fine. Really. It was kind of amazing. We were like pegasus and unicorn superheroes. Twilight is so powerful! And, well, I’m pretty awesome myself!”
“I know, I know…” said Applejack. “I ain’t likely to forget it. I am the luckiest mare in Equestria.” She pouted. “Except for this here ridiculous bedridden nonsense.”
“Twilight promised she’d come right over, after she’s done talking to Rarity—they have to decide whose place gets which tapestries to look at.” Rainbow Dash winced. “I wasn’t about to hang around and watch that. Even a super-unicorn is in trouble if she wants to argue with Rarity. It might take a while.”
Rarity narrowed her eyes. “You simply must be joking, darling. Reconsider.”
“I’m serious, Rarity! Is that so unreasonable?”
“Twilight! Unacceptable!”
“It isn’t! I really need this one!”
“But darling!” cried Rarity. “Only that one?”
Twilight Sparkle continued to admire the first tapestry they’d found, while Rarity’s lip quivered. She’d mounted the whole collection beautifully, and they glowed in the morning light. Some of their discoveries shone with threads that showed the influence of unicorn magic on threadmaking: iridescent shimmering beyond the previous technology. Others depicted views of Equestria from heights never before imagined: pegasus self-discovery, their experience documented in art. The treasure trove was unimaginable.
Yet Twilight Sparkle had eyes only for their first discovery, the drab representation of the first unicorns and pegasi, plain stitching telling their story.
“Is it perhaps the stark, monochromatic motif?” asked Rarity.
“Oh, no no…”
“I trust it isn’t… the, ah, wing thing? Not that there would be anything wrong with that!” protested Rarity. “I would simply counsel… discretion.”
“What?” said Twilight, perplexed. “What wing thing?”
“Presumably not!” said the white unicorn. “In that case, would you be so good as to simply tell me? I feel that you are entitled to your pick of the beauty that we discovered. It confounds me beyond expression that you’re passing it by.”
Twilight sighed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you after you went to such trouble. But I’m really just interested in this one.”
“May I ask why? It seems so… plain.”
“But it’s not! It’s really not, you just have to think about its meaning. I feel like, if I understood it better, it would answer some very important questions I have.”
“Such as?” inquired Rarity.
“I didn’t know many earth ponies in Canterlot… well, I didn’t really know anybody, though I got some great studying done! But now that I’m in Ponyville, I’m seeing more of the earth ponies, and they’re so unusual…”
Rarity blinked. “Would you run that by me again? I’m afraid it made no sense at all the first time.”
“I guess they’re unusual to me. I don’t know how to explain this. How are they so… secure?”
“What else would they be, darling?”
“Well… I’m not secure!”
Rarity’s face threatened to break into a smile. “Poor Twilight! I would never have imagined it, I assure you. How can I help?”
“I don’t know! I thought this tapestry would help. Even here, even these little stitched earth ponies look secure! I don’t need all those tapestries of the unicorns and pegasi doing amazing things. I already know all that. I’ve done amazing things myself, why can’t I have that kind of security?”
Rarity looked over her friend. “Far be it from me to suggest that I may know better than you…”
“But you’re going to anyway,” grumbled Twilight.
“Of course. I simply thought, rather than pore over old books or even old tapestries, perhaps you’d like to come with me this afternoon? We’re going to help Applejack with her farm. The pegasus ponies have a storm they must send through, and we’ve got to bring in some of her crops lest they be spoiled, secure something or other and rotate something else. It sounds dreadful, and I would adore your company.”
Twilight considered this, her face a picture of dubiousness. “Applejack isn’t exactly someone I think I could emulate. She’s amazing, yes, but she asks far too much of herself! If I had to be like that, I’d be even more insecure than I am!”
“But if it’s earth pony toughness and tenacity you seek?”
“Point taken,” said Twilight. “Do we at least get to use magic?”
Rarity grimaced. “You remember what it took to convince her, last apple harvest…”
“And then, I really put my hoof in it for Winter Wrap-up, didn’t I?”
“I think we’d better just go and do our best, darling, and not expect too much. No?”
“Well,” said Twilight, “at least we can expect Applejack’s hospitality!”
“You do not stack them things on top of each other, y’hear?” shouted Applejack. “Git them back down right now!”
“But they’re crates of lettuces, Applejack!” pleaded Twilight. “I saw what the crates are made of. They’re wooden, surely they can stand the insignificant weight?”
“Ain’t the weight, Twilight! Din’t you see the way them lettuces were stacked in there facin’ up? If dirty mud from the bottom of the crates falls in the top of them other crates, it’ll git all in the lettuces and you’ll be grindin’ your teeth on grit when you eat! It ain’t like it will jes’ bounce off the side of the lettuces!”
“Uh… I’m sorry, Applejack, but I’m looking at the crates right now, and it certainly would. The lettuces are squished in any which way, there’s barely room for dirt to even get in.”
Applejack looked shocked. “Bring that over here! No, never mind, I can see it from where I am. Caramel!” she yelled. “Rainbow, y’all go get Caramel this instant! I will tan his hide, I will grow new legs jes’ to kick him with!”
“But what’s the matter?” said Twilight.
“The matter? What’s the matter? He’s crammed them crates full of lettuces to save himself a trip carryin’ em! They’re totally crushed, they’ll rot! Caramel, dammit!”
Twilight sighed. Not even the experienced farm workers were coping with this, except for Big Macintosh, and Twilight had already worked out his strategy. Mac had his head down, and was patiently shifting stacks of heavy wooden buckets, paying no attention to anything else.
“Dammit, Rarity, stop straightening the harnesses! We’re only gonna put them back on anyway!”
Twilight watched Rarity begin to snap a reply, and then bite it back again. The fashionable unicorn didn’t look so fashionable anymore—her coat had dirt marks all over it, and her mane was half uncurled. She’d been demonstrating a degree of self-control that Twilight found flatly astonishing, and clung to it even now.
Applejack seemed unimpressed. All of her attention was on the comedy of errors happening out in her fields, and she craned her neck, trying to see out the barn door, barking increasingly frantic orders at Rainbow Dash.
Dash acted as her lieutenant, her eyes and ears, and had begun the day full of self-importance and enthusiasm. Three failures to correctly identify seed types, two scoldings for sending worker ponies to the wrong part of the field, and a broken plow because Rainbow had tried to pull it through (and not around) “that big rock over to the south fields”, and Dash was a powder keg—still trying to act as Applejack’s lieutenant, but nearly as explosive as her Boss.
“Consarn it! We got to get the tilling and seeding done before th’ rainstorm, there won’t be another one for a week and time’s a wastin’! How am I s’posed to…”
Applejack froze.
“That’s it. That’s it! Big Macintosh, Rainbow Dash, you get some strong ponies together and you go and drag out the old gazebo! Set it right in the middle of th’ fields, I am going to be on it!”
Big Macintosh blinked. “Ain’t but a platform. The roof came off.”
“And that is exactly what I need!” said Applejack. “I’ll set myself in the middle of it, and I can watch everypony.”
Big Macintosh looked at her. She lay across a hay-bale, her legs outstretched rigidly in their casts. “Lay yourself in the middle of it, you mean?”
“Dammit, that ain’t gonna work,” said Applejack. “If I… now wait a minute! We still got them trusses from the old windmill?”
“Ayep.”
“Well, now, I ain’t rightly a windmill NOR a weathervane, but what if we set up them trusses and hung a nice rope—and we jes’ hang my hind end off’n the rope? That way I can turn around all I want, and see everythin’! No rear end required!”
Not five minutes later, ponies were positioning the gazebo at the center of the fields, at the top of a gentle hill. The view was fantastic. One could see all the way to the tree-line on all sides, and bask in the setting sun.
Nopony was basking in the sun, however—and it wasn’t because of the distant wall of cumulonimbus approaching.
“Hurry, consarn it, get a move on! Get them trusses up!”
Applejack ran as hard as she could, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy carrying her legs wheelbarrow-style. They had to fly to keep up—Twilight, watching, was again amazed at the determination and aggressiveness of the simple earth pony.
“The hell you starin’ at, girl? Git to work!”
Chastened, Twilight trotted back to the barn to fetch seeds and digging implements.
When she got back, they’d erected a tall tripod from steel trusses, and were already lifting Applejack onto the platform. Her hooves banged loudly on the deck. “Higher!” she demanded. “I stand up straight, do you hear me?” They complied, anxiously, and soon Applejack stood on the deck of the gazebo, nothing but steel trusses over her head, her hind legs suspended by a rope. She pivoted, staring out over the fields, able to rotate and see everything, and the ponies gazed up at her in delight at the wonderful trick they had accomplished… for about four seconds.
BANG!
Applejack had slammed the deck with a forehoof and was glaring at them, furious.
“Stop gawkin’ and git movin’!”
And the dream turned into a nightmare, for not even Rainbow Dash could move fast enough to please her, and she glowered down on them from her raised platform, banging it with her hooves to punctuate her orders—and she was nothing but orders.
“Them’s beans! You can’t rotate beans into alfalfa, that’s almost th’ same! Beans go to cabbage, don’t you know anythin’?”
“You got to get some chicken shit on the ground where th’new cabbages go…”
“What the… Where’d you get that, Rainbow? What? Damn it! Yes, I know I said chicken shit, but you got to use the composted! No, I ain’t tellin’ you until you pick the other chicken shit back up! It’ll burn th’ soil!”
“Dammit, Rainbow, stop leaving trenches, they’ll erode! All y’all are diggin’ up the ground like groundchuck varmints, you will destroy my drainage!”
“Yes, that’s fine, Rarity, I can see you ain’t diggin’ trenches. You are the one pony who ain’t wreckin’ the place. Your dedication to keepin’ th’ dirt pretty is servin’ you well. Trouble is, you’re consarned useless at everythin’ else so don’t git smug, missy!”
Rainbow Dash struggled to scrape up chicken shit without digging gouges in the ground. Passing by Rarity, she muttered, “Maybe this platform thing wasn’t such a good idea?”
Rarity’s eyes flashed. Her usually gleaming white coat was completely sullied with dirt from head to hoof, she’d scratched her flank and showed a smear of blood to go with the dirt, and she’d just been called useless and smug. She hissed, “Maybe this helping thing wasn’t such a good idea!”
“Come on,” whispered Twilight, glancing anxiously up at their cruel overseer. “Even if we can’t be as good as she is, we’ve got to try! …right?”
“We ARE trying!” yelled Rainbow Dash.
A bang interrupted her, and Applejack glared down at her.
“You’re very tryin’. Back ta work!”
Dash flapped her wings fiercely for a moment, and then resumed trying to scrape chicken shit back up without gouging the soil too much.
Pinkie Pie trotted up to the platform. “Look, Applejack, I found more alfalfa!”
“That’s nice, Pinkie, but…”
“We can plant it over here!” she cried, and began to gallop off, only to be stopped by an earth pony bellow.
“No! You may not plant more alfalfa! I don’t care that it tastes good, the soil over there won’t stand it! It’s got to be clover and rye!”
“Rye’s yucky,” complained Pinkie.
“Tough! Git back to th’…”
“Hey, Applejack,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Shut up, will you—git back to the barn, Pinkie, and the rye is in the big sacks with…”
“Applejack!” snapped Dash.
Applejack’s hooves were very loud as she rotated her body to face Dash.
“What?” she said, grimly.
“This is not working.”
Applejack stared at her. “What did you say?”
“I said, this is not working! You know what you need to do?”
Rainbow Dash, though very frustrated, had observations about cooperativeness and gratitude in mind. Applejack, however, had been staring desperately all over the fields and counting the things that had gone wrong, and she had different observations.
“I know fifteen things I need to do that I can see from here, and twelve of them is fixin’ messes you all made! Why do you got to be so hopeless? Why must you waste my time this way? This is serious!”
“Waste your time? Waste YOUR time?” sputtered Rainbow Dash.
“Can’t trust you ponies to do anything! If you can’t work right, I’ll do it myself, and you can get th’ hell out!”
Rainbow Dash snarled, “Maybe it escaped your attention, but…”
“Rainbow,” said Rarity. “A word, please?”
Dash glanced at Rarity, and was struck speechless. The fashion unicorn was bedraggled and soiled, and had plainly been attempting physical labor as well as the expected magic use.
Applejack was anything but speechless. “You got no word worth sayin’ to her. I been watchin’ you tidy rocks and such. Why don’t you go clean th’ dirt off my fields? Oh, wait, ain’t nothin’ BUT dirt…”
“Applejack!” snapped Twilight Sparkle. “You are making matters worse every second!”
“Seconds is jes’ what I ain’t got! Y’all got to stop whinin’ and get to doin’ stuff right, this minute, or it’s gonna be a real disaster…”
“It’s already a disaster!” yelled Dash.
“Rainbow Dash!” cried Twilight. “Everypony! Calm down and…”
“Git to work or git outta my sight!” roared Applejack, her teeth bared.
In the silence, Twilight looked back into her raging, desperate eyes, as everypony else looked to her for an answer.
She gulped.
“I think it’s gonna be the latter.”
And with that, Twilight led the other ponies back to the barn. It would’ve been easier if Applejack had kept raving and cursing them, but she didn’t. She glowered in silence, her teeth gritted hard, her gaze flicking out to all the things in the fields she had to do. The ponies jumped as she banged her hoof again, once, but she wasn’t looking at them, she was looking down.
As they entered the barn, Twilight looked back at her, and she was staring off at the approaching thunderclouds and paid no attention to them at all.
They shut her out, by closing the barn door. It wasn’t necessary, because Applejack was trapped out on the crest of her hill, surveying all her fields, and unable to move away from the steel trusses and the gazebo platform. They did it anyway.
“Are we going to go and get her?” asked Rarity. “If I remember correctly, Applejack is not fond of thunder. She came running back to your slumber party, remember, Twilight?”
“She’s not running anywhere. She can stew out there until she learns how to be nice,” said Rainbow Dash. “I don’t know what’s got into her—this is not MY Applejack.”
“If we’re going to help her we need her cooperation,” said Twilight, “because she’s simply antagonizing everypony. Big Macintosh, have you ever seen her like this?”
“Nope.”
Rarity turned to him. “Big Macintosh, have you found that Applejack is frightened of thunderstorms? It seemed to me that…”
“Will you shut up about the thunder?” said Rainbow Dash, and Rarity glared at her.
“All th’ Apple mares are deathly afraid of thunder,” said Big Macintosh. Then, as Rarity’s eyes widened, he added, “Except Applejack. She won’t turn a hair, jes’ ree-fuses to be frightened of anythin’. One tough mare, eyup.”
Rarity gave him a suspicious look, but Twilight was already speaking. “I’m sorry, but thunder is the least of our worries. I guess I should start by asking, is anyone here too frustrated with this to continue? It looks like we have to help Applejack in spite of herself, and, well, you’ve seen what it’s like. Not only that, we have to do it before the storm comes.”
“Nope,” said Big Macintosh.
Twilight blinked at him. “What do you mean? That’s what we’re here for.”
Big Macintosh blinked, placidly. “I mean, that’s why she’s upset. We can’t do it. There’s too much, ain’t enough ponies, and we ain’t all trained. If y’all had done exactly what she wanted, every step o’ the way… she might have had a chance. Too late now.”
Rainbow Dash glared at him. “Do you know how hard we tried to do just that?”
“Y’all did your best. No blame.”
Rainbow kept glaring for a moment—and then hung her head.
“But, then… what do we do?” asked Rarity. “There must be something we can do.”
“First—who’s still with us?” said Twilight, looking around. “This has been a really long day, and I wouldn’t blame anypony for being out of patience—especially since Big Macintosh says we can’t possibly finish. We need to figure out what we can do, and go convince Applejack to let us do only that. Um… maybe after she’s calmed down a little bit.”
“I’m done,” said Caramel. “I’ll square it with her later. I’m going home.”
At that, Dash glanced up, still glaring, but the look she shot him was more hurt than angry. “Fine!” she said.
Caramel glanced at the barn door, but to leave that way would require walking past the withering gaze of Applejack. There was a side door, and he thought for a moment and brightened—that one would get him out while keeping the whole barn between him and Applejack until he was far down the road. Caramel glanced apologetically around, and took his leave through that door, leaving it half open.
Rainbow sighed. “Well, Twilight did say he could go. I guess that makes sense. It’s no good trying to do this with ponies who aren’t ready to really fight for it, so it’s just as well he left… I guess.”
“Um, if you’re sure about that…”
Dash’s head whipped around to identify the new voice, and her dismay worsened. “Not you too, Fluttershy?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m really not going to be of any help. And I don’t want to be yelled at,” said Fluttershy. “I’d better go.” And she did, leaving the barn right after Caramel.
“Who else?” demanded Rainbow Dash.
“I’m going to go home and bake her a cake,” said Pinkie Pie. “If you ask me, she could use one!” She followed Caramel and Fluttershy.
“Great!” raged Rainbow Dash. “Just great! Who’s next? Big Macintosh?”
“Ayep.”
Dash’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. She’s your family!”
“Know her better’n most. Ain’t no pleasin’ her today. I’ll try again tomorrow,” said Big Macintosh, and he too left.
“I’m sure I heard thunder,” said Rarity, “and I really think you should check-”
“Not helping, Rarity! Instead of fussing over a little thunder, you need to be figuring out what sort of work we can still do out there in the time we have!”
Rarity stood her ground. “That is as may be! As a unicorn who has seen you yourself being petrified and unsuccessfully concealing the fact, I insist that you are making light of the situation…”
Suddenly, Rainbow Dash was in her face. “Oh, that would be easy, wouldn’t it, go and bring Applejack in here for hugs rather than get out and work more—right? Let me straighten you out, Rarity. Applejack is out there glaring at the dirt, expecting us to come back and do stuff right. Big Macintosh told us we haven’t got enough time. He knows that, I know that, now you know that. I’ve never seen Applejack act afraid of anything and Big Macintosh confirmed that she isn’t afraid of thunder, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rarity bridled. “I am sorry if you are not sophisticated enough to perceive the truth of such things! And Big Macintosh has departed the premises!”
“Yeah, we noticed! We also lost Fluttershy, and Pinkie, and Caramel, and it’s just me and you and Twilight at this point! And it’s getting dark really fast! The three of us have to work like six times as hard now if we’re gonna do this, so you know what? You can either shut up about Applejack’s nonexistent emotional problems, or you can get the buck out!”
Dash was inches from Rarity’s nose, and the once-elegant unicorn backed off—perhaps it was her soiled, unkempt state that helped to rattle her. She looked suddenly uncertain, with Dash contradicting her so rudely, and Big Macintosh’s opinion against hers. She dropped her head, glowered, kicked at the dirt of the barn floor with a forehoof and then made a face as she realized that it was, indeed, dirt and straw.
Twilight stared, in horror. Rarity was trembling, her teeth gritted, and the look she shot back at Dash was murderous. She seemed to be reaching a snapping point…
“Your mathematics,” snarled Rarity, “are every bit as bad as your deportment!”
And with that, Rarity stalked off, after the others, without once looking back. She left by the same side door the others had, but as her tail vanished from sight, a magic glow enveloped the doorknob—and yanked. The door slammed, and the sound echoed through the now-empty barn.
Twilight and Rainbow Dash stared at each other.
“Well, that went well!” said Twilight, and Rainbow Dash dropped to the ground in despair.
“What’re we gonna do? They all left! We’re never gonna do all that work for her now! She’s gonna kill me, just totally kill me! I promised I’d whip all those ponies into shape!”
“Um… I don’t think whipping is working that great for either you or Applejack…”
“You’re not helping!” wailed Dash.
“I’m not leaving,” said Twilight. “Shouldn’t that count for something?”
Dash didn’t answer. Then—“I guess.”
Twilight lay down beside Dash, nuzzling her cheek. “Now come on. You’re still here too. You’re the amazing Rainbow Dash, right? We can think of something to do for Applejack, even if it’s just getting her out of the rain.”
“I’m a featherbrain,” said Dash, barely listening. “She was counting on me. I totally blew it, I let her down. Why can’t I be as tough as Applejack?”
Twilight gave a sour look at the wall. “Nopony is. Believe me, it frustrates me too, Rainbow. She’s out there, disappointed in us for being so weak, and I’m just sitting in here trying to get up the courage to face her. I feel so insecure I could just scream. That’s one intimidating pony that we have to go and explain all this to.”
Rainbow Dash sniffled. “Actually I like that part—when I think I can be equal to it. Not now! Not after I’ve ruined everything! She’s never gonna speak to me again!”
Thunder rolled, punctuating the drama of Dash’s words. Twilight cringed, and said, “Um… Rainbow?”
“Oh, take it easy, Twilight. That’s just the storm the pegasus ponies are pushing through. The storm of my shame, because now it really is too late to do anything! We bucked up completely. Applejack must hate me now!”
“No, Rainbow, I mean… shouldn’t we go out and bring her inside?” Twilight gulped. “Whether or not she’s still mad? It’s getting scary.”
Rain began to hit the roof of the barn—and another thunderclap shook the walls, right nearby.
“It’s okay, we work with this stuff all the time. Just don’t land…” said Dash, and trailed off. Her eyes grew wide.
“We don’t fly!” protested Twilight, but Rainbow Dash was already running for the barn door, shoving it open.
The fields were dark, cloaked by thunderstorm clouds overhead, lit by ominous flashes in those clouds. Twilight galloped after Rainbow Dash, but was no match for the desperate pegasus pony’s speed. She heard an “I’m bucking sorry!” ahead, and saw Dash turning immediately to the knots on the rope holding Applejack up.
Applejack wasn’t moving, but she was standing. Twilight ran to her and saw she was staring, with a strained, furious, too-tense expression, off across the field. She followed Applejack’s gaze, and found a blasted tree at the end of it—lightning had struck a tree at the other end of the field as Applejack watched, dangling helplessly under a tower made of steel trusses. Applejack wasn’t blinking, as if she was in some sort of hate-trance. She barely seemed to register their presence.
That changed as Dash got the knots untied. Applejack’s casts thumped to the floor of the platform, and she lost her balance and fell over. The wind picked up, whipping the three ponies. The steel trusses, no longer held down by the weight of an earth pony’s hindquarters, creaked and toppled, falling to the side off the gazebo platform. As it went, one leg of the tripod thumped Applejack’s shoulder, and her body jerked as if the blow was jolting her back to reality. She looked around, disoriented, lying in the center of the platform with Dash and Twilight standing over her.
“You can be mad at us later,” said Twilight, “but for now—let’s get you in the barn where it’s safe.”
What happened then, shocked Twilight and Rainbow Dash to their cores. Applejack looked at them, dazed, making sense of what Twi had said—and then, as it sank in, she looked back across the field at the tree she’d seen struck by lightning, and her face twisted in anguish, and she began to scream in terror.
“Holy crap!” managed Rainbow.
“Quick, get her legs!” cried Twilight, for Applejack was thrashing, trying to drag herself off the platform. “I’ll try to lift her!”
Twilight’s help was needed, for Applejack was too panicked to run with just the use of her forelegs—again and again, she stumbled and fell, and Twilight used her magic to get her back to her hooves, Rainbow Dash carrying her plaster-encased hind legs, the two working together to guide the staggering, whinnying mare across the field towards the barn. At one point, she fell and tried to curl into a ball, and Twilight had to yell, “Get up! Keep going!” before she’d return to her panicked fleeing. Applejack’s terror was dreadful to behold, and contagious—Twilight was trembling and fighting off the urge to run ahead and take cover in the barn, and even Dash looked shaken.
They got her into the barn, and Dash dropped her hindlegs and pulled the heavy doors closed, but whirled at a cry of “Rainbow!” from Twilight.
Applejack wasn’t done fleeing. She was dragging herself across the ground, as lightning flashed and thunder rolled, and she was whinnying in terror still, her eyes wide and panicky.
“Where’s she going?” said Dash.
“I think she’s trying to get behind these hay bales, in this corner!”
“I’m on it!” said Dash. She swooped over and picked up Applejack’s hind legs again, her wings churning the air as she lifted the heavy casts and her marefriend’s body. Applejack was indeed trying to get behind the hay bales. Rainbow guided her as she scrabbled at the ground, taking cover in the most protected enclosed space in sight, and then called to Twilight. “Get over here! Let’s both get in here with her!”
They crammed in beside Applejack, and felt her body shake against them, and without saying a word to each other both ponies hugged their friend close. Applejack screamed at another thunderclap, and burst into wails and tears, shaking her head. She was trying to talk, but was quite incoherent. Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle lay with her, and waited for her to master herself enough to be able to speak.
When she did, her voice was broken and miserable. “Go away… leave me!”
“No,” said Rainbow Dash.
Twilight blinked. “Why on earth would you want that, Applejack?”
“Ah’m a damn coward…”
“Well,” said Rainbow, “I’m a featherbrain for letting you go through that alone.”
“You really are scared of thunder and lightning?” asked Twilight. “Even seeing you now, it’s still kind of hard to believe…”
Applejack glared through her tears. “Don’t you say them words, ever! It ain’t fair! I just… aieeee!” Another thunderclap tore the words from her mouth, and she gave up her argument and cried more.
“No, I think I get it,” said Rainbow Dash. “Rarity knew. I don’t know how, but she knew. Boss, why didn’t you say something?”
Applejack sniffled, and wiped her nose with the back of a hoof. “Ain’t no boss now.”
“Maybe not right now. Twilight, why did you say it was hard to believe?”
“Well… she was so tough and brave and secure!”
Applejack sobbed loudly, and tried to turn her face away from both Twilight and Dash at the same time. It wasn’t possible, so she turned to Dash, who covered her head with a wing protectively, saying “Hey! She IS tough and brave and secure. She’s boss of me, and this whole place. So there!”
Twilight marvelled. “I know, I know! It’s amazing—it’s like it’s not even the same pony.”
“But she is. Less talking. More hugging.”
Twilight Sparkle looked down, abashed. She had a sense that her words weren’t helping, which did happen sometimes, and this wasn’t a good time for it. She cuddled up to Applejack on the other side, noticing that the earth pony was still shuddering, but had stopped hyperventilating. Twilight nodded to herself—that was good. Hyperventilating was a sign of panic and would make it harder for Applejack to calm herself. She’d read that in a book. The book hadn’t mentioned the feel of a pony body shaking in terror, or the smell of fear, which lingered and made Twilight feel worried apart from the scary thunder and lightning.
Applejack had refused to panic even while suspended under a metal structure out in the storm, watching a tree get blasted to flinders in front of her. She’d commanded her fear even when she had no hope of rescue, apparently choosing to die on her hooves, holding her chin up, facing her doom like the Boss she was. It was when safety became an option that she’d broken down completely. Now, she cowered against Rainbow Dash in shame, and peeked out from under Dash’s wing at Twilight.
“She’s the toughest pony ever,” said Rainbow.
“I ain’t,” managed Applejack.
“Hey, listen. It’s easy for me to enjoy lightning when, hello, I can fly! It just makes my feathers all stick out for a minute. We learn to take to the air—you do not want to be touching the ground during this! I have to admit it’s making me nervous because I know I should be flying for my own safety. You live on the ground all the time. It’s different!”
Applejack turned to Dash. “You’re on th’ ground now. Shouldn’t ya—get safe? Pegasus style?”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Applejack’s eyes teared up again. “I don’t deserve this. How can y’all ever look on me again after today?”
“Oh,” said Dash, smirking affectionately, “I’ll manage.”
“I think I’m starting to understand,” said Twilight. “It’s partly a front, right? You’re just pretending? You’re not really all that fearless and secure like you seem, are you?”
Applejack snorted, stung by the accusation. “Even if it’s true, you got a lot of nerve—EEEEE!” Another thunderclap hit close by, interrupting her. When she could breathe again, she stuck to simpler words. “Nope.”
Rainbow Dash cuddled her closer, and spoke to Twilight. “Yes she is—as much as any of us. Rarity knows. She saw me being terrified, it’s the same thing. I guess you never learned that, Twilight? It’s not about not having any fears. It’s about being able to endure them when you have them.”
Applejack’s body jolted at another bright flash of lightning, and she pressed closer to Rainbow Dash, then jerked back. “Ow! Dashie, your hoof’s all edges!”
At this, Rainbow Dash looked sulky and uncomfortable. “Sorry. Can we not talk about that? Again, same thing, though—I’ll tell you that much.”
She moved her hoof out of the way and Applejack returned to her previous closeness. Twilight got a glimpse of the hoof and blinked—it was overgrown and badly in need of a farrier’s care.
“So… it’s about enduring your fears even though you have them? Is that it?”
“I guess you can endure in different ways,” said Dash. “But listen, Twilight! This is how it always is. We’re all just ponies, you know? You should feel honored to be here and see something nopony ever gets to see. Applejack is always tough no matter what, and doesn’t show these feelings to just anypony.”
“Gosh,” said Twilight. “Is it worth it? I always show my insecurities to everypony, so they’ll pay attention and listen. I can’t even help it sometimes. I have to make ponies understand what I feel.”
“Not all of us want to do that, okay?” said Rainbow Dash. “When you’re like me and you want to be a little larger than life…”
“A lot,” came a voice from under her wing.
“Okay, so a lot… well, it doesn’t really fit with the image, does it? You want to see your feelings taken seriously. We want to see our awesomeness taken seriously. Twilight, sometimes you freak out so hard that only Rarity compares to it—and she’s faking half of that!”
Twilight sulked. “I guess. I hate feeling like I’m more scared than everypony.”
“Why do you think we try to avoid it?” said Dash.
“Right,” said Twilight.
Applejack looked out from under Dash’s protective wing. “Aw… sugarcube, does it help y’all to know it’s no different for me? Maybe this weren’t such a bad thing after all.”
“I guess so,” said Twilight. The storm was moving on, though it still rumbled and crashed around them. “You’re saying that you ponies just handle it a different way than I do.”
“Maybe we can teach her!” said Rainbow Dash. “We can make Iron Twilight! Unwavering, confident, self-assured…”
Twilight stared back at her as if Dash had gone mad. Twilight’s ear quirked in an expression of astonishment. Her eye twitched, her jaw dropped incredulously.
Rainbow Dash and Applejack looked at each other. “No,” they said, in chorus.
Applejack shook her head. “No need! You jes’ be yourself, sugar.” She was plainly pulling herself together to be strong for Twilight, who gulped, moved by the sight as Applejack continued bravely on. “Look at you, even if you kick up a fuss ever’time we turn around, you tried your best to help me this day, and when it turned into the worstest night ever, you’re still with me, ain’t ya? You din’t leave me. Uh… you ain’t gonna leave me?” Her voice quavered as her bravery got exhausted again and quit.
“No way!” said Twilight. “I’m sticking right here!”
“And you, Applejack,” said Rainbow Dash, drawing her close again, “you be your real self. It’s just us here, we won’t make fun of you.”
“Reckon it’s a bit late to be anythin’ else, to be honest,” said Applejack. “Ya promise not to tell th’ others? Please don’t tell th’ others…”
“We won’t,” said Twilight.
They sat. Another thunderclap shook the barn. It was coming from farther away, by now.
Applejack trembled. “Ain’t… quite ready ta come out, either.”
“We’ll get through this together,” said Rainbow Dash. “Take as long as you want.”
Applejack peered out into the barn, seeing the scuffed dirt on the floor where she’d clawed her way towards her hiding spot, the furrows where she’d dragged her broken legs behind her. They hurt like a bastard now, thanks to all her struggles, though the casts had held. They’d been hurt in the first place because she’d been too tough to admit she was overstrained, and… well, she’d overstrained them for a good reason, or it seemed like one.
If Dashie had really been in danger on that night they visited the old castle, her toughness would have made all the difference. For at least a moment, it had. She’d held the portcullis up when it mattered—and then some.
At the time, she was too distracted to acknowledge that it hurt—or that she was frightened. When her legs had been set, everypony was too alarmed at the situation to care that she’d been upset, and she’d put the mask of iron pony on again as soon as she could. And in the field, she’d tried her very best to overcome her broken legs and still be the iron pony, and she’d only stampeded her friends into flustered uselessness and been mad at them for it.
She looked around. Most of ‘em had gone home, which wasn’t surprising, but they weren’t to know. Twilight—and Dashie—remained with her, even though she wasn’t anything like an iron pony anymore. The others might still be fooled, but these ponies had seen the truth.
Applejack’s eyes were sad. She’d done such damage, to herself and to her friends, trying to stay Iron Pony. Well… if she didn’t have that any longer, there was at least something she still had to offer, and there was no time like the present to start.
“Thank y’all. Ah mean it—thank you.”
Applejack hunkered down, and let Twilight and Dash shelter her while the storm faded.