//------------------------------// // Chapter Two // Story: The Wheat Fields // by kbooms //------------------------------// There ain’t no two ways about it. I was grieving. It ain’t like I’d never felt this way afore, either. We lost grandpappy not long after AJ was born, and then we lost Ma and Pa. Matter of fact, it sometimes feels like I’ve grieved for more of my life than not. This time was different, though. Reckon that’s ‘cause AJ didn’t actually die. She was just gonna be turning into somepony else. And that terrified me. I’d never heard of anypony so upset that they were born a stallion or a mare that they’d try to change it. It probably didn’t help that I’d always been comfortable being the stallion of the family. I never had any second-thoughts, no wondering “what if,” and certainly no discomfort. I was a stallion, plain and simple, and that was all I needed to know. It was really no wonder I didn’t understand. I hate to say it, but it also made me a mite upset. It was like saying that the natural order of things wasn’t good enough for her, even though it was for everypony else I’d ever met. What was so wrong with being a mare, anyway? Anyhow, AJ hadn’t come back by breakfast. I wasn’t too worried and, truth be told, I was trying real hard not to think of her too much. I figured she’d probably gone to be with her friends and stayed the night - probably with Miz Rarity or Princess Twilight. She’d be back afore the sun was too far above the horizon, I was sure. My sister was the most dependable pony I’d ever known, and she loved working the farm as much as I did. She’d be back in time to start harvesting. So I went about my business as usual, trying not to think about the needles AJ had shown me the night before or what the liquid in those little vials would start doing to her. Him? Celestia, that felt unnatural. I ate a hearty breakfast with Granny and Apple Bloom. Since AJ still hadn’t shown up when we finished, and Granny sure ain’t as spry as she used to be, I offered to walk Apple Bloom to school. It’s an easy walk, and I enjoyed being around the little filly. Her enthusiasm and innocence were contagious, and I laughed along with her as she told me about the various misadventures she and her fellow crusaders had gotten into recently. We could hear the school bell ringing from a couple blocks away, and I had to up my pace to keep up with the excitable filly. As we crested the last hill leading to the school, Apple Bloom jumped in the air and raced over to her friends who had already gathered together by the entrance. “Hey Sweetie! Hi Scoots!” I heard her speaking excitedly. “Got any cool ideas for Crusadin’ t’day?” I chuckled softly as I approached the school after her, my eyes scanning the area for Cheerilee to let her know I’d dropped Apple Bloom off safely. “Good morning, Big Mac.” Her voice sounded from behind me. I smiled easily as I turned to face the school teacher. “Howdy, Miz Cheerilee,” I greeted her, nodding my head politely. “Just droppin’ Apple Bloom off for th’ day.” “I certainly was surprised to see you,” she replied. Her eyes traveled the playground from habit, ensuring all was in order. “Usually Applejack’s the one to bring her by.” “Eeyup,” I affirmed. “Reckon she’s got other things t’ worry about this mornin’.” Cheerilee’s attention was upon me fully now. “I hope nothing’s wrong?” Her kind green eyes shone with concern. A snort escaped my nostrils before I could stop it. I shook my head slowly. “It ain’t nothin’ for you t’ worry your head about,” I muttered. “Reckon she’s just got diff’rent priorities‘n usual right now.” She frowned. “You sound upset about something.” I shook my head again. “Seems like Ah’ll always have some trouble gettin’ used t’ things that’re changin’,” I responded calmly and noncommittally as I could. I shoved images of Applejack the stallion from my mind almost as quick as they appeared. “Well, if you ever need to talk, you can come by any time.” She smiled brightly at me. “I mean, preferably not during school hours,” she joked. “That’s mighty kind of you, Miz Cheerilee.” I smiled back, feeling at ease for the first time since the evening before. “Ah’ll remember your offer.” “Good,” she responded as she turned toward the schoolhouse. “I’ve got to start class now, and I’m sure you have to get back to the Acres. But that offer stands indefinitely.” She nodded smartly, then turned to face the playground. “Alright, fillies and colts,” she called in her infamous Teacher Voice. “Time to start class! Everypony inside - yes, that means you, Snips!” “Aw, rats!” The small colt discarded the ball he’d been playing with and trotted sullenly toward the door with everypony else. I smiled at their antics, and gave Cheerilee a wave as I turned back toward the farm and the waiting apple trees. It was shaping up to be another nice day - not too hot, and not too chilly either - the perfect temperature for working the farm all day. I headed straight for the wheat when I got to the Acres, hoping it might be closer to being ready to harvest. After all, it felt like it’d been ages since I’d last checked on it. Walking through the Acres is a near-spiritual experience for a lot of ponies. Sometimes we even get tourists wandering in from nearby towns - Phillydelphia, Cloudsdale, even Canterlot, on occasion. We’re right neighborly, like always. We give them a little tour of our best sights and sent them on with a good-sized purchase of apples more times than not. As I ambled along, I couldn’t help but think of those ponies and how I really couldn’t blame them for wanting to see more. Even though I see it every day, the sight of the long grasses with their green and gold stalks and their dull purple-brown seeds up against the big, dark Everfree always runs a chill up my spine. Soon, I crested the hill I call mine and a small breeze ruffled my mane. I looked down at the wheat, noticing in a glance that it looked the same as before. It needed another week, at least, before it would be ready for harvesting. Regardless, I let myself stay there for several minutes not thinking about anything in particular and just being. Might be a fancy, cultured pony like Miz Rarity would call it meditation or mindfulness or something. Granny would call it lollygagging. So I surveyed the whole field one last time - the corn did look like it was gonna have a good yield once it was ready in a month or so - and took a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me. I blew it out, then bent down and bit off a stalk of grass. It settled so easily into place between my teeth that I briefly wondered if the thousands of stalks I’d bitten off and held there over the years had started to form a groove. First thing was to get the baskets set up under the trees for bucking, which was generally my job. We were supposed to start the south field that day since the Honeycrisps were finally ripe and ready to be baked into pies and fritters and crisps all over Ponyville. We kept the baskets in the barn overnight - wouldn’t do for them to be stolen away by varmints and the like from the Everfree. I never will forget the first time I lost a basket that eventually became part of a timberwolf’s tough wooden armor. I headed toward the barn, shaking my head ruefully at the memory. If I were to be honest with myself, I was kind of hoping AJ wouldn’t be back. I didn’t really feel like facing her or talking more about her… issue. As I nudged the large red doors open, however, I heard a familiar sound. Guitar music was flowing through the orchard, all slow, melancholy and bittersweet. With a sigh, I hooked myself up to the large cart that was already full of empty baskets. AJ certainly was a planner. Efficient, too. Once out of the barn, I cocked an ear to see where the music was coming from. Of course. I swallowed my second sigh of resignation and headed toward the sound and the apples that needed my attention. The cart hooked to Pa’s yoke caused me no bother at all, in fact I barely noticed I was pulling it along with me. The trip was a short one - the groves are as far apart as they need to be and no farther - and before I knew it, I was face to face with the pony playing the guitar. Ma’s guitar, actually. AJ didn’t move as I walked up, and I honestly wasn’t sure if she’d even heard me approach. Could be because she had her hat pulled low over her brow to shield the sun, or just because she was into the music. Either way, that suited me just fine, on account of I didn’t know what to say to her anymore. I unhooked myself from the cart slowly - darned music she was playing wouldn’t let me move any faster, if that makes any sense - and started strategically setting out the baskets. The nice thing about being Earth Ponies, though we don’t really get much attention for it, is that we have a magical connection to the earth. Since AJ and I have been running the farm ourselves for quite some time now, we’ve gotten to know our trees pretty darn well. This includes knowing where to set the baskets underneath the trees - it’s different for every tree, but certainly aids in our efficiency when we don’t have to pick up the apples that didn’t fall into the baskets. Once I’d finished setting out the baskets - all within a centimeter of accuracy, I might add - it had become apparent that AJ was ignoring me. She hadn’t so much as looked up while I’d been moving in and out of the trees to prepare for bucking, though I couldn’t blame her, really, since she’d decided to sit on the east side of the trunk. I ambled up next to her and sat down facing north. “Where’d you go las’ night, ‘Jack?” I asked after a few more measures of guitar music. “Twilight’s,” she answered noncommittally. “She had a sharps container from Celestia-knows-where that she let me use.” Startled, I looked over at her and saw a small band-aid on her flank where I assumed she’d done her injection. I gave a small shudder at the thought of the giant needle she’d showed me last night. Then something clicked in my mind, and I studied her covertly. She seemed different today. More confident than last night. That thought gave me pause. AJ's never had trouble being confident... had she? I suddenly wondered if I really knew my own sister. AJ let her music slow and come to a cadence, then set her guitar in its case and turned a level stare at me. “Ah could certainly use a bit more support from mah big brother, you know,” she said, voice hard. “Granny an’ AB are both on board an’ have even started callin’ me ‘he.’” “Already?” I sat back against the tree, stunned. She studied me closely, a frown on her face. Then she sighed. “Ah don’t expect you t’ trot around correctin’ ponies right an’ left if’n they mess up. ‘Specially since the injections take a bit o’ time t’ work t’ make me look real stallion-y, even if Twi’s helpin’ them along with some magic. But it’d be helpful if’n you could stop actin’ like this is a personal affront t’ you an’ that Ah’m some sort o’ freakshow. “This ain’t goin’ away, you know.” She pushed Pa’s hat farther up onto her head so I could see her whole face. “Might as well get used to it, Mac.” “It ain’t exac’ly an easy thing t’ jus’ get used to, y’know.” My tone was overly sarcastic, but I was feeling uncharacteristically ornery. I hadn't even known she'd talked to Granny and Apple Bloom. “Ah have t-” “Oh no,” she interrupted, a fierce look in her eyes. “You don’t hafta anything. This ain’t somethin’ Ah’m doin’ to you. This is somethin’ Ah’m doin’ for me.” She shoved a hoof into her chest for emphasis before standing up. She looked for a moment like she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Her golden tresses swayed slightly as she shook her head and walked off to begin working. We worked side-by-side for the rest of the day, though silently. None of our usual light-hearted banter and knowing looks eased our aching muscles or made the time fly. By the time the sun set, not even a single interruption from Apple Bloom or that impish Rainbow Dash had punctuated our efforts. After my anger had simmered and I really started to feel the labor in my bones and muscles - which, incidentally, wasn’t ‘til partway through the afternoon - I thought on what Applejack had said. Most of me felt like it wouldn’t ever feel right to call her a stallion or refer to her as “him.” But a growing part of me was thinking about Granny and AB, and the most basic part of being an Apple. Pa put it best when he’d have his important talks with us when we were growing up, and I recounted it as I headed toward the barn with a cart that now overflowed with ripe fruit. “Now lissen here, Mac, AJ,” he’d say as he pinned us with a serious look over his dinner plate. “Ah want y’ both t’ remember that you’re only as strong as th’ bond with your family. That there’s a bond that’ll never be broken, not as long as there’s life in an Apple somewhere. Nothin’ you c’n do or say will ever change the way your family loves you. An’ when you’re grown an’ don’ have me t’ remind you, Ah hope you remember t’ always love an’ support each other an’ your future families with that in mind. Reckon someday you’ll understand more fully, but consarn it - you ain’t nothin’ without your family. But with it, there ain’t nothing you can’t do!” That particular memory sat with me all evening, unsettling me more than I care to admit.