//------------------------------// // Chapter 16 // Story: The Spirit of Loyalty // by Matthew Penn //------------------------------// It amazed Scootaloo how Macintosh had no trouble pulling a wagon himself that contained a large amount of camping supplies and three ponies. After thinking about it, she should not have been really surprised at all. She had seen him display his strength many times before; from simple farm work to breaking a wall open in the heat of the moment. Scootaloo remembered when she and her friends tried to set their teacher and with Macintosh by using an old love potion they made from scratch. He was madly in love and would not let anything get in his way. She was joined by Apple Bloom and Granny Smith in the wagon. Out of all the elderly ponies Scootaloo had known, she considered Smith to be the most youthful. She played her banjo all morning and told stories of her fillyhood, which included a brief history lesson on the early years of Ponyville. They took the trail to Whitetail Wood. Apple Bloom had a habit of forgetting that Applejack was not with them. She’d crawl to the front of the wagon to ask her a question only to realize she wasn’t there. “How long until we get to Whitetail Wood?” she asked Macintosh. “Soon,” he answered. Scootaloo lay back on the wagon and watched the blue sky and white clouds pass over them. She had no idea the Apples (with the possible exception of Apple Bloom) rose even before the the sun had risen. She only had a bowl of cereal and an apple for breakfast. It was not entirely so bad since Scootaloo retreated to her bed earlier the night before, so she had a good rest. Scootaloo never thought that Granny Smith’s banjo would have a calming effect on her. “Isn’t this exciting?” Apple Bloom asked. “You and me in the great outdoors… again!” Scootaloo smiled and nodded. “Do you think we might have an adventure?” “I hope so. Maybe we’ll find a cave that has buried treasure. That’ll be fun.” The day went on as Macintosh pulled the cart into the woods. Granny played another song on her banjo to disrupt the silence. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom heard Macintosh humming to the tone. Apple Bloom smiled, knowing the same tone and humming along, and nod her head to the plucking strings. Scootaloo looked at her and gave a light smile. She didn’t know the tune, but she was glad there was music to fill the empty air. Seeing her by herself gave Apple Bloom an idea. “Hey granny, can you start at the beginning?” she asked. “I want to teach Scootaloo a song. You know the one.” Granny Smith happily nodded and played the first chords of the song. Scootaloo was pulled away from her thoughts when she heard her name. “What’s going on?” she asked. “We’re going to sing a little song,” Apple Bloom said. “Do you know Apples to the Core?” “Uh… no.” “Well, it’s a family song. It’s about how we always stick together through thick and thin. No matter who you are and where you live, you’re an Apple to the Core.” “It’s true,” Granny added. “But I don’t know the words,” said Scootaloo. “That’s why we’re going to teach you,” Apple Bloom said. Granny Smith plucked the strings on the banjo until everyone was ready to sing. Scootaloo believed she had no busy learning the Apples’ family song. It was only for them. Surely enough, they wanted her to sing along. If they thought of her as family, what gave Scootaloo the right to say no? “Applejack usually starts us off,” Apple Bloom said, “but since she ain’t here, we’re going to fill in for her.” She moved her head to the rhythm of the banjo and began to sing. As the song went on, Granny and Macintosh combined their voices with Apple Bloom and sang together. We travelled the road of generations Joined by a common bond, We sing our song ‘cross the pony nation From Equestria and beyond. We’re Apples forever, Apples together We’re family, but so much more No matter what comes, we will face the weather We’re Apples to the core. Soon it will be Scootaloo’s turn to sing. She didn’t want to butcher their family song. Granny Smith kept the melody going, Apple Bloom pulled Scootaloo close, and smiled to let her know she had nothing to worry about. She guided Scootaloo into the second part of the song. There’s no place I’d rather be Than travelin’ with my family, Friends all around come to join and see As we sing out across the land. We’re Apples forever, Apples together We’re family, but so much more No matter what comes, we will face the weather We’re Apples to the core. The Apples and Scootaloo sang during most of the trip. Her nervousness about singing their family song faded, and she felt good about herself. The day was drawing to a close as Celestia lowered the sun. Macintosh stopped at a wide open area of under the trees that will be the camping ground for the night. Apple Bloom helped Granny unload their equipment from the cart, meanwhile Scootaloo climbed off the cart, waiting to make herself useful. She wanted to help Apple Bloom and Granny, but just by looking at how fast they moved she figured they were fine setting up camp themselves. She saw Macintosh removing the saddle he used to pull the cart from his back, so Scootaloo approached him. “Um, do you need help with anything?” she asked. Macintosh thought about what Scootaloo could do. He made a mental checklist of things he remembered to bring for the trip. A moment later his eyes widen, then he slapped himself on his forehead. He forgot the firewood. He silently berated himself for doing that for the second time. “You can help me get firewood,” he said. “That’ll be nice.” She nodded, but inside she remembered the last time Applejack wanted her to get firewood. It happened exactly a year ago and she couldn’t get over how she made a fool of herself in front of the adults, and of course Rainbow Dash, because of her pesky fear of the dark. She looked back at Apple Bloom and Granny Smith, completely amazed that they wasted no time pinching their tents. Scootaloo took a sighed, telling herself to not repeat her foolishness from last time, and she and McIntosh walked through the tall trees. Terror slowly crawled up her spine, but at least McIntosh was there with her. He scanned the ground for anything that looked like large chunks of wood with Scootaloo following his example. McIntosh mumbled to himself, although he was loud enough for Scootaloo to hear him, about how dumb he was to forget the firewood three times. “Hey, Big Mac,” she said, “uh, it’s not your fault.” “You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” he said. “I keep reminding myself to bring that dang firewood every year. I was lucky that Applejack always came with backup.” Macintosh found large pieces of wood on the ground as they went further into the trees. Scootaloo helped by placing them in his saddlebag. The crickets were chirping loudly. She felt jittery, and hoped Macintosh would find more pieces soon. Scootaloo grew too nervous to take another step, fearing that she’ll jump by the sound of her own hoof breaking a twig. Macintosh commented how it was almost getting dark, so it took out a flashlight and turned it on. “Thank you,” Scootaloo said with relief. “You afraid of the dark?” Macintosh asked. “No,” she answered quickly. “Well… kind of.” She heard a faint noise from behind her, and turned her head to see what made it. Macintosh chuckled. It was not difficult to know that Scootaloo was telling a fib. They found a few more pieces of wood until McIntosh decided it was time to head back to the camp site. Scootaloo breathed a sigh of relief. When they returned they saw that Granny Smith and Apple Bloom were still unloading the supplies from the cart. It was a good thing that it wasn’t too dark when they arrived. “Where were you guys?” Apple Bloom asked. “You forgot the firewood again, didn’t you?” Granny said. Macintosh sighed and nodded his head. “We got some,” Scootaloo said, “so it wasn’t a total lost.” She tried to smile, but Macintosh held his arm out. It was his mistake, and he will own up to it. To prevent the situation from becoming awkward, Apple Bloom suggested that they get the fire ready. She approached her brother and whispered in his ear that she’ll promise not to tell Applejack, to which he was very grateful. In just a few moments the night sky will be above their heads, but Granny created the campfire. The fire gave them light in the darkness and warm their skin and hooves. Apple Bloom made room on the ground so Scootaloo can sit next to her. McIntosh reached into a bag near him and searched through it. “If there’s one thing I didn’t forget, it’s these,” he said with confidence. He pulled out a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a pack of chocolate bars. He also got the roasting sticks ready and passed them to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. “I ain’t eating that junk,” Granny Smith said. “I ain’t supposed to anyway, doctor’s orders.” She grabbed her banjo and played some music. “Just y’all wait, I’m gonna make some stew tomorrow night.” Macintosh and the fillies roasted the marshmallows over the fire as the banjo music filled the night time air. Scootaloo was familiar with what they called “s’mores,” although she had never tried it before. She was embarrassed to tell Apple Bloom that. If she told her then she would’ve give her that weird look whenever she thought Scootaloo said something outlandish. She put her marshmallow close to the fire and watched it turn black, then quickly pulled it away before it burned to a black crisp, and blew the small flames off. “You ain’t gonna eat it like that, are you?” Apple Bloom asked “What do you mean?” “Now don’t you tell me you never had a s’more before.” Scootaloo shook her head. How can a pony go through life without experiencing the joys of s’mores, Apple Bloom thought. She let her marshmallow hang over the fire until she pulled it away from the fire, seeing that it was perfect to make her s’more as it was golden brown, then she planted the roasting stick on the ground and grabbed the box of graham crackers and broke a small piece of the chocolate bar. She presented to Scootaloo the process of creating the famous s’more by placing a piece of the chocolate on a crack then inserting the brown marshmallow on the other cracker, then combining the two together so the fusion could melt the chocolate. “Then you eat it,” she said. Scootaloo followed her example, slowing performing the steps Apple Bloom showed. “See how easy that was?” Apple Bloom asked. “It’s kind of messy,” Scootaloo said. “Don’t worry, a s’more is supposed to be messy.” Apple Bloom helped Scootaloo create another set of s’mores while Macintosh searched his saddlebag to find his harmonica. When he found it he played along with the banjo and their countryside melodies blended. Everything around them became dark, the campfire the only thing bringing light. Above their heads they found half of the moon surrounded by twinkling stars. The chirping crickets were joined the other strange noises that can be heard at night. Scootaloo gently wrapped herself with her arms, looking around as if someone might appear when they least expect it. “Any of y’all wanna hear a story?” Granny asked. “I do!” Apple Bloom said. “What is it about?” “It’s a-little something I heard when I was both your ages.” Granny played the banjo very slowly, ominously. “It’s about an old farm mare called Aunty Greenleaf.” “It’s not scary, is it?” Scootaloo asked. “I mean, not that I’m afraid or anything.” “You’ll see. Just sit up and listen closely,” Granny said. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo did what they were told, then Granny played the ominous notes on the banjo and began to tell her story. “Aunty Greenleaf was a scrawny old pony with a wild thatch of gray hair and a crooked nose. She lived in a hut surrounded by pines just outside Ponyville, and she sold herbal remedies to the folks in town. Mostly, ponies avoided her, except when someone got sick because it was said that Aunty Greenleaf was a witch. Her home remedies worked too well to be natural. Folks figured she had to have help from the devil or one of his familiars. “There were many stories whispered in Ponyville about Aunty Greenleaf. Ponies said she had hexed a farmer's pigs once after he spoke rudely to her, so that they all died, one right after another. One prominent citizen dreamed of Aunty Greenleaf, and the next morning her daughter fell ill with a fever and nearly died. “In the early fall, folks in town began talking about a large, pure-white deer that was seen roaming the woods near Ponyville at night. Several hunting parties were gathered to go after the large animal, but the creature was quick, disappearing whenever ponies came close, and folks began saying it was a phantom deer. Around about that time, several mares in the town began having trouble with their churning and a number of cows and pigs began to sicken and die. Folks blamed the incidents on the phantom deer, though each of the ponies afflicted with the trouble had crossed Aunty Greenleaf at some time in the last month. “The stallions of Ponyville got up a hunting party to chase down the animal. They were gone all day, and well into the night. Finally they spotted the white deer. It was the largest deer any of them had ever seen, and was fast too. They couldn't keep up with it. The stallions got a good handle on him, and swore that at least one of them caught the deer, but it just kept running. They returned home empty-handed. “One local farmer became obsessed with the white deer. Every moment he could spare from his work, the farmer would get his gun and go hunting in the woods around town. He saw the white deer several times, but the deer always ran away and vanish. Finally, he decided the white deer must be a witch of some sort. The farmer melted silver to make bullets, and then he took his gun and went out hunting the white deer. He managed to make three shots with his silver bullets and the white deer actually stumbled as if one of the shots had hit it. Then it jerked upright and ran away. He tracked it almost to Aunty Greenleaf's hut, but then he lost it in the dark somehow, which was mighty strange, seeing as the deer was pure white. “The next day, the farmer learned that Aunty Greenleaf was ill. From the moment she took to her bed, the local farm animals stopped dying and the families who were having trouble with their churning were back to normal. Less than a week later, Aunty Greenleaf died and the doctor who cared for her told the minister he found three silver bullets in her spine. “After the death of Aunty Greenleaf, the phantom white deer was never heard of or seen again in Ponyville.” Granny played a dark tone on her banjo. She looked to the fillies, surprised to see that Apple Bloom was covering her mouth; not out of a fright, but was snickering, trying to hold in her laughter. Scootaloo looked around, making sure no deer were in their presence. “I’m sorry, Granny, but that story ain’t scary at all,” Apple Bloom laughed. “It was the scariest thing I heard when I was young.” Apple Bloom glanced at Scootaloo, who was busy looking over her shoulder. She jerked when Apple Bloom touched her arm. “You ain’t scared of that silly story, weren’t you?” “... No,” Scootaloo said, although she was shivering. “If you thought Aunty Greenleaf was scary, wait ‘til I tell y’all of the time that big ‘ol Sasquatch came to town,” Granny said. “No thanks,” Scootaloo said quickly. “Well, I got a story of my own,” Apple Bloom said. “A long time ago, an old pony was fishing out on the lake. He spent almost the entire day there. First he’ll hold on to his fishing rod, then he’ll take a quick nap, and the next he would wake up to see if any fish took the bait. He didn’t catch anything for a long time, but the old pony didn’t give up. “It was midday, so the old pony decided to take a nap. Suddenly, he stirred awoke when something was pulling on his fishing rod. The old pony held a tight grip and fought the good fight! He thought it must have been a large fish! It was going to be his biggest catch ever! But the big fish pulled the old pony off his boat and underwater! “The old pony didn’t let go of his fishing rod, even as he was being pulled across the bottom of the lake. He was certain he was going to catch that fish! But he was running out of breath. He let go of his rod and swam to the surface of the lake. But once he got up, he saw that it was already night! How? he thought. It was only midday when it happened, and the sun was still up. “Then it finally hit him… it wasn’t night at all. He was in the fish’s stomach! And it wasn’t a fish, it was a huge monster that lived in the lake! The old pony was never heard from again.” “So how’s that?” Apple Bloom asked. “Scary, huh?” Granny and Macintosh didn’t look like they were frightened. Scootaloo was less fearful now that she heard Apple Bloom’s tale, but she kept a lookout for any deer that may do them harm. “Now Scootaloo gets a turn,” Granny said. “You got anything to share, sugarcube?” “I… don’t know a lot of scary stories,” she said. “Make something up,” Apple Bloom said. Scootaloo thought for a moment. “Okay, here goes. Once… there was a little filly who live alone in a small house. She had nobody to take care of her. She had no food. The filly had to go to the nearest town and beg for what she needed. Sometimes she wasn’t so lucky. Then… one night, it was raining. The little filly crawled into the corner with a small candlelight to keep warm. Then she heard a knock at the door, followed by thunder. “The filly was scared. She never open the door for anyone. The knocking continued, and the filly decided to open it. There was pony… a young mare, terribly wet from the storm. She asked for shelter for the night. The filly didn’t know what to do, but she saw that the terrible storm may not stop until morning, so she let the mare stay inside. “... The mare saw that the filly lived in a small space, and noticed only a candlelight that looked as though it was about to go out. She also saw that the filly was shivering from the cold rain that blew outside. The mare took off her cloak, and the filly saw that she had large wings. ‘Do not worry, my child. I will protect you,’ the mare said. The pony pulled the filly close, wrapped her wings around her. The mare’s skin was very warm and soft, and for the first time in her life, the filly felt at ease.” Scootaloo stopped. She cast a small eye to the Apples, who were waiting for her to continue. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t want it to end.” Her eyes grew moist, so she quickly wiped them dry. Apple Bloom put her hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “That was very nice,” she said, smiling. It was obvious what the story was about. Macintosh played a soft melody on the harmonica, and was joined by Granny Smith on the banjo. Apple Bloom helped Scootaloo make another s’more. Scootaloo forgot that she was worrying about the deer from Granny’s story. Now she was gazing at the stars. She decided the brightest one that outshined them all was Rainbow Dash.