Apples at Sunset

by Wolfton


Your Silence Deafens the World

For two weeks you searched. Twilight, all of her friends, the townponies, and even the princesses volunteered what time they could. You hardly get any rest, even collapsing during one of the searches from wearing yourself out so completely.

“Nopony could have survived that fall,” they say. “Not even Applejack.”

Fourteen days and nights you scour the river, top to bottom, upstream and downstream.

All you ever find is her hat.

She is declared deceased the first day of the eleventh month, in the eighteen-hundred and thirty-second year of The Royal Sisters.