//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4 
// Story: Princess Twilight Sparkle's 25th Birthday 
// by Autumnschild 
//------------------------------//

Honeycrisp, deliberate stick-in-the-mud and budding back-sasser, was all smiles. She didn’t bother to think about why she was in such a good mood, or what it meant, she just knew that she was having a blast. She looked up at Applejack with a smile on her face, and the older farm pony smiled right back with a curt tip of the hat.
 
The two country mares shared a small laugh, and Honeycrisp turned her attention back towards the path, trotting a few yards ahead to lead the way. Sure she was hundreds of years in the past, but she knew that she could find her way to Sweet Apple Acres no matter where, or when, she was. It’s location in the world was just as much a part her as her horn was.
 
Honeycrisp listened to the clipped and awkward conversation of the five mares behind her. It all started when Pinkie Pie asked what the future was like for the billionth time. Sandy, bless her naïve heart, tried to answer her. But Pants shot her down along with any other questions about the future without so much as an apology.
 
Eventually, they settled on safe topics and the pace of conversation normalized. Favorite colors, popular songs, tasty foods, that sort of thing. Honeycrisp lead them along the rightmost path when the road forked, and caught the tail end of a question about colts.

Honeycrisp’s ears twitched when she heard Sandy mention Smarty Pants’ obvious interest in pegasus stallions. Especially the ones that pull the Royal Chariots. The not-so-little red unicorn glanced over her shoulder in time to see the blush burn across her cousin’s cheeks as she stammered out a half-hearted denial.

Honeycrisp stopped for a moment, opting instead to stand and watch her cousin hem and haw her way through an explanation of sorts, involving ‘thermals’ and ‘aerodynamics’ and other probably made up words. Mercifully, Fluttershy stepped in and offered that the topic be dropped in favor of favorite season instead.

Once again losing interest in the conversation at hoof, Honeycrisp turned back to the last straight away on the path home and started walking again. Minutes later, the pointless conversation died off and they rounded what Honeycrisp knew was the last corner on the path. She was about to announce their arrival when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Sweet Apple Acres was no where to be seen. Instead she was looking at a seemingly never-ending field of wild flowers. The sight before her was totally alien and she hated it.

She knew that turning that corner would bring her home. But today that was not the case. She felt numb. Like she was half there. For the first time in her short life, Honeycrisp knew what it was like to come home and have home not be there.

Gone was Mrs. Edgewood’s property. The yard that held a singular heretical plum tree that once ate Honeycrisp’s kite. She hated that tree, and yet, in this moment she’d give anything to see it again. 

Gone was the row of houses that lined both sides of the path to the Homestead. She closed her eyes and listened intently for the familiar drawl of her kin. For the sound of hammers on benches. For the farm songs sung by the laborers in the fields. But the only thing she heard was the rhythmic squeaking of Applejack’s cart as it pulled up alongside her.

“Where’s Sweet Apple Acres?” Honeycrisp asked with a noticeable waver in her voice.
 
Applejack walked past her with the cart as she answered back with a casual smile, “It’s just on up ahead, Sugarcube. This here’s Burt’s Apiary. Fella makes the best honey in all’a Ponyville. But he’s a bit of a grump.”

“Just a bit though,” came an unexpected reply from behind their convoy of six.
 
Honeycrisp glanced over her shoulder in time to catch a startled Sandy gallop away from her spot at the end of the pack. She flapped her wings, eeping and squeaking as she went, until she came to a shivering stop perched safely atop Smarty Pants. Who seemed completely oblivious to the extra weight as she too turned to look back at the stranger.
 
He was a lanky brown stallion with a beehive for a cutie mark, and he was pulling a small cart of his own.
 
“Hiya, Burt!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”
 
The stallion answered back with a polite nod as he passed to the left of the stopped mares. “Well, I just finished my deliveries and I’m heading home.”
 
“Are you coming to the party tonight?”
 
Burt stopped at that and looked over his shoulder at the pink party pony. “Pinkie Pie, you’ve given everypony in town at least one invitation to Twilight’s party every day for the last two weeks!”
 
“So… You’ll be there?” asked Pinkie Pie nodding slyly.
 
Burt sighed, and offered the Element of Laughter a tired, defeated smile. “Yes Pinkie. I’ll be at the party.”
 
“Are yo—”
 
“No, I’m not bringing a ‘plus one’. Now if you ladies will excuse me,” he said with some finality. The poofy haired stallion walked on and turned down a fork in the road towards his bee farm.
 
When the stallion was out of earshot, Pinkie Pie sighed with a giggle as she and her friends, both old and new, continued on their way down to Sweet Apple Acres. “Yeah, he’s a little bit of a grump.”

Honeycrisp lead the way again, now eager to find anything resembling the home she knew. Nopony spoke, content to bask in the the late morning tranquility of autumn. The air around them was mostly silent, save for the occasional odd noise. At first it was just the chirping of songbirds gathering sticks and other treasures for their winter nests.

Then there came the timely rap-a-tap-taps of ambitious woodpeckers. The springy sproing of Angel’s hopping along at Fluttershy’ side followed apace. Finally, keeping time with it all, was the squeaking back wheel of Applejack’s empty cart. 

It was at that moment that Honeycrisp realized the horror that was about to unfold. There was about to be a song. And a song meant singing. 

Already she could feel her head bobbing and her tail swishing as the thing formed and blossomed in her chest. Somewhere, on the edge of her hearing, as if it were still trying to sneak up on her, she heard instruments begin to play.

There was an accordion squeezing out a melody; a fiddle noodling its way around the unwritten sheet music; the rhythmic scraping of a washboard; and an oboe. Star’s garters, there was an oboe.

She looked to Smarty Pants for support. Surely the two of them could squash this thing before it started, since she was being such a worrywart recently, what with the time travel and all. But a quick glance her way was all it took for Honeycrisp to see that was on her own. Smarty Pants had a glimmer in her eye. The same glimmer the other mares had.
 
Honeycrisp opened her mouth to say something, anything, to stop this song from happening. But to her horror, she discovered that the first word out of her mouth, “We,” was instantly harmonized by the lime green pegasus that just landed on her back.
 
Well there was no stopping it. They were singing. This was a thing that was happening now.
 
Terrific.
 
Of course, Honeycrisp sang along too. She had to. Who wouldn’t sing along with such a catchy tune? But she refused to dance along with Smarty Pants and Pinkie Pie. Okay, so she danced a little with Applejack, but that was different.
 
Sensing the big finish was on its way, the last vestiges of Honeycrisp’s resistance fell away, and she finally decided to give in and have a little fun. She sauntered and swayed with Sandy and Smarty Pants as they hopped along with Angel in the lead like a tiny parade marshal, and the trio of Elements behind them marching in time with the squeaky wheel and the invisible washboard.
 
And here it was, the big finish, right at the actual threshold of Sweet Apple Acres. Robbed of her voice at the site, like a pilgrim reaching the end of a long trip to some far off holy land, her two friends ended the song around her and collapsed into a giggling pile of pony performers.

Behind them, Fluttershy sat on her yellow rump and politely clapped her forehooves together while Pinkie Pie was busy stashing the churro burro that she used in the third verse behind a nearby apple tree.
 
“Thanks Churro!” said Pinkie Pie.
 
“De nada,” he replied with a tip of his oversized sombrero.
 
“Alright gals, giddy up now,” said Applejack as she walked on. “We’ve got a heap a chores to finish if’n we’re gonna be ready for Twilight’s shindig.”
 
“What can we help with?” asked Smarty Pants.
 
“Well, fer starters, Granny Smith is on her own with the bakin’. She could probably use a hoof er two.”
 
“I’ll help!” volunteered Sandy, “My mommy’s a royal baker!”
 
Honeycrisp watched with a wry smile as Smarty Pants paled at Sandy’s words.
 
“Uh… girls,” said Smarty Pants addressing her two friends, “can I get a quick word?”
 
Honeycrisp nodded. So did Sandy. The three fillies stepped off to the side, just out of earshot of the three mares and Smarty Pants started her little lecture.
  
“Okay girls here’s the thing. We need to be very careful about what we say to the ponies we meet here in the past.”
 
“What do you mean?” asked Sandy.
 
“Remember the broken cup?”
 
Honeycrisp patted the pocket on her saddlebag where she slipped the broken handle and chip. “Sure do.”
 
“Okay, so if we say the wrong thing to the wrong pony, we might end up breaking somepony, instead of something. Sandy,” she said as she pointed a light brown hoof at her friend. “Your mommy is a Princess in this time. She and Princess Luna rule all of Equestria.”
 
“Really?” asked a wide eyed Sandy.
 
“Really. So I think the less said about the Celestia you know to the ponies of this time, the better.”
 
“Okay.” Said a fidgety green pegasus with a tiny pout.
 
“Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?” asked Honeycrisp.
 
“Yeah. Family and family history are both off limits,” said Smarty Pants turning her gaze to her cousin. “It’s probably best to err on the side of caution here. If you think you shouldn’t talk about it, don’t.”
 
The two other fillies nodded, and the three girls broke their little huddle.
 
Trotting back up to the three mares, Sandy broke the silence. “I’m happy to help with the baking. Because reasons,” she said with a wink to Smarty Pants.
 
Honeycrisp rolled her eyes.
 
“Great,” Applejack said pointing to an old farm house, “Why don’t you’n Pinkie head on up t—”
 
Applejack’s instructions were cut off as an eerily familiar voice screamed out in frustration. It was coming from inside the Apple family home and out of an open window. “Ah! I… I can’t take it any more! I have to get out of this dress!”
 
A moment later, a yellow sun dress wrapped in a purple aura went flying out the window and smacked Fluttershy right in the face. All was silent for a hare’s breath, Angel’s specifically, and then the voice, calmer and even more familiar now, spoke again after sighing happily, “Okay Big Mac, where were we?”
 
Ripping the garment off of her, a red faced Fluttershy shrieked “I’ll help with the baking!”
 
Grabbing Sandy by the hoof, the determined looking pink maned mare gave her wings a mighty flap, flying low and fast towards the house. Sandy, for her part, managed to keep any and all screaming on the inside, saving many an ear drum from harm that crisp morning.
 
“Well. Okay then,” said Applejack with a puzzled look on her face, as she watched the two pegasi hurdle towards her house. She heard a low chuckle coming from Pinkie Pie, and she turned to look at her poofy maned distant cousin, who wore a sly smile.
 
“I learned a thiiiiing,” she said as she rocked back and forth on her pink tail, pleased with her completely awesome deductive reasoning skills.
 
Applejack looked down at Smarty Pants, for some new insight, but the girl was too busy staring at the open window like it was some sorta gateway to Tartarus. Then she looked over at Honeycrisp. The young unicorn just shrugged back at her, and Applejack decided to drop the subject and focus on the chores.
 
The older earth pony cleared her throat and continued. “Next is the cider. We keep it in the barn cellar, and we need forty some-odd barrels of the stuff so Big Mac can pull’em inta town fer the party.”
 
Smarty Pants tore her eyes away from the window, reluctantly, and looked up at Applejack, processing what she just said. Cider. Cellar. Probably little chance of bumping into any familiar ponies down there. “I can help with that.”
 
“Terrific,” said Applejack with a smile. “Apple Bloom worked out some sorta contraption fer getting cider in’n out without having ta push’m up the stairs. Pinkie, you’ve used it before, can you lend her a hoof?”
 
Her pink friend nodded and bounced into the lead position, guiding Smarty Pants off towards the cellar doors on the near side of the barn. “Don’t you worry Smarty Pants, Auntie Pinkie Pie is… Here to…” she stopped and considered her words with a furrowed brow and a twitch of her tail. “No. It’s not Auntie Pinkie,” she turned and considered the filly with a raised eyebrow, “Is it?”
 
Smarty Pants laughed nervously, “Hay, how about that cider? I hear it’s some super good stuff!” she exclaimed nervously as they walked out of earshot of Applejack.
 
 At last, Applejack turned to look down at Honeycrisp, who wore a grin a mile wide.
 
“So I guess it’s just you an’ me, huh?” she asked adjusting her hat.
 
“I guess so!” Honeycrisp blurted out with an anxious laugh. Little did Applejack know, but Honeycrisp had been looking forward to this moment ever since she ever said the word ‘chores’ earlier this morning. 

This was it, thought Honeycrisp. I’m going to do farm work with Applejack! She was so nervous. She was so excited. She wished she knew a better word for the feeling she was feeling.
 
“So!” the filly exclaimed, “What’re we gonna do?” Feed the pigs? Chop some wood? Paint a barn?” Honeycrisp let out a squeal of excitement at the different possibilities.
 
Applejack turned back towards the barn with the cart in tow, and started off at a moderately paced trot with a smile on her face. “Nope.”
 
Honeycrisp gasped. “Are we gonna raise a barn?! Just the two of us?!”
 
Applejack stopped in place and threw Honeycrisp a wink. “Even better.”
 
Honeycrisp was practically vibrating with the excitement of it all. Better than raising a barn? What could be better than raising a barn?! “Well, what are we waitin’ for?”
 
Applejack laughed at the filly’s anxiousness, “Hold yer horses, filly. I gotta get outta this harness first.”
 
The little red filly bounced up and down in uncharacteristic glee, sticking right by the orange mare’s side. They came to a stop in front of the open barn, and Applejack pulled her cart around in line with three others. Two were as large as the one she was pulling, but the third was at least twice again as large.
 
“So… I’ve got a question for ya.” said Applejack, pulling herself free of her harness.
 
The young unicorn froze in place, hanging in the air mid-bounce for just a moment too long before coming back down to earth. She kept her eyes planted firmly on her forehooves before . “I…”
 
“Ain’t gotta answer if’n ya don’t wanna.”
 
Slowly, she turned in place and met the eyes of the Element of Honesty. Those eyes that seemed like they could see through any lie. Looking into those eyes, the filly from the future realized just how hard Pants’ request would be.

“S-sure, what is it?”
 
Applejack circled the filly, appraising her like a cart full of produce at the market. After coming back around to face the unicorn, Applejack nodded in approval.

“Yer an Apple, ain’tcha?”

“I… How did you know?” she asked the older mare in awe.
 
Applejack ruffled a hoof through the top of the filly’s pigtailed mane. “Y'all didn’t think it was a secret, did ya? What with the way you led the six of us here. Also, them hooves look like they’ve seen a fair share of work,” she said with a wink.

Applejack looked down at her own dusty, well-worn hooves and chuckled before continuing. “Plus, yer name is ‘Honeycrisp’, most folks named after apples these days tend to be Apples. Don’t reckon I know how they do it in the future, but it can’t be all that different, right?”

Honeycrisp stood up a bit straighter, as if a small weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. “Right!” she chirped back. “But uh, I’m not supposed ta talk about the future. So… No more questions about it?”

“Alright, I suppose I can do that. Well, I think we’ve wasted enough time. Ready fer some chores, Sugarcube?”
 
“I sure am!” exclaimed Honeycrisp, once more bouncing around in unrestrained glee. “What’re we gonna do?!”
 
“Why, the greatest chore there is.”
 
“Yeah?!”
 
“Eeyup. We’re gonna do us some applebuckin’!” she said as she cantered off into the barn to collect their supplies.
 
Honeycrisp, standing alone in front of the barn stared after the mare in utter disbelief. She could feel sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, and her stomach started to tighten. 

She was terrible at applebucking. And soon, Applejack, Appleist of Apples, was going to know just how bad at it she was.
 
“Y-yeah,” she muttered under her breath, “Applebucking. Woo.”