Cold water became Apple Bloom’s world, her sister’s hooves the chains that bound her to it. It filled her mouth and nose and ears, soaked every hair and pore, immersed her every sense. Her lungs tickled. Soon, they would be screaming.
Each breathless second grew more painful, in the way that nervous laughter turns into hysterics. A minute in, her neck jerked against her sister’s hooves, desperate and unthinking. Apple Bloom could no more stop the panic than she could grow gills and breathe. A minute was not enough. She would drown here.
The water grew colder as her lungs burned.
Time was lost as her lungs caved in, the last barren bubbles escaping her lips and creeping up to the surface. Water clawed at the back of her mouth, and her lungs begged to let it in. She did not know how much water she swallowed to avert the reflex to breathe. She knew her hind legs had collapsed now. It did not matter. Her sister held her steady.
Her limbs flailed as she inhaled water, each trying to escape in a different direction. Blackness crept into the edge of her vision as white flashed in the middle, and the pounding in her head grew louder than the screaming in her lungs.
Only as her head fell upwards did she realise that her sister had released her. It took more than will to brace her own forelegs and push her own head back under the water, it took every ounce of spite and anger in her body working as one. Apple Bloom could not hear her sister’s warnings, but she felt them on her body, tapping and pulling. It did not matter. She would drown first.
A click, and the world drained away.
* * *
The blackness receded, and Apple Bloom was already upright. Water spewed from her lips. She could not tell if she had vomited, or merely exhaled. Her whole body felt wet, and she saw water on the floor. The latch on the training bath had been pulled, instantly—but messily—draining all its contents. Through bloodshot eyes, she saw her sister.
“How many hooves am I holding up?” asked Applejack.
Apple Bloom coughed and tried to focus. “...One?”
“Good. Two-hundred push-ups, git!”
The filly flailed her arms and tried to regain her bearings. “Guh—gimme a—”
Applejack knocked her down with a headbutt. “The Giving Tree will give you many things, but it will not give you a moment!” she screamed.
Apple Bloom snarled and swung a hoof at her sister. Applejack sidestepped neatly, grabbed her sister bodily, and hauled her against a wooden crate. She picked up her sister’s tail and lifted her upwards so that her hind legs rested on the crate. Apple Bloom coughed, but did not fall.
“Get going, you can wring your lungs out later.”
Apple Bloom grunted and began to hammer out raised push-ups. The first two were shaky, but by the fifth she was hammering out one each second. Water ran from her nose and mouth. Her coughing and retching did not slow her down.
Her sister strutted around her with a walking cane, the strap wrapped around her hoof. “You are not good enough for the Tree. It’s gonna suck you dry and spit out a husk.”
Apple Bloom ignored her. She muttered softly as she reached fifty.
“A wimp like you will die in the Tree. If you give up, you’ll die. If you fight, you’ll die tired.”
Her push-ups did not slow, but her rump began to creep up, taking the strain off her stomach. Applejack smacked her in the ribs with the walking cane.
“Keep your form straight or I’ll beat you black and blue!”
Applejack continued to mock her until she reached one-hundred-and-fifty. She slapped her sister in the face. She wobbled, but shifted her weight and continued.
“You’re already a failure,” growled Applejack. “You’ve been a failure since you were born. You were a failure when I left, a failure when our parents died, and a failure when I returned. This is your last week on the planet, and you will spend it being a disappointment to everyone who ever knew you. If you marched on out to the barn right now and opened up your legs with a sickle, we’d thank you for freeing up our schedules.”
Apple Bloom’s face twisted in a sneer, but she soldiered on. Even in the chilly basement, she was lathered with sweat. She lifted her neck, briefly looked at her sister, and spat on the ground.
She reached one-hundred-and-ninety. With a snarl, Applejack placed a hoof between Apple Bloom’s withers and bore her weight downwards. As the filly’s chest was pressed onto the floor, Applejack whispered into her ear, “You do not deserve the gifts of the Tree.”
Apple Bloom screamed in anger and strained with all her might. Her jaw clenched until her teeth creaked, her tendons bulged and her joints twisted, muscles she could not even name quivered as she fought her sister. The anger turned to pain as a joint popped, but she did not let up. If not for her sister’s alchemical poultices, the strain would have crippled her.
Applejack lifted her hoof. Sobbing, Apple Bloom did ten more push-ups on a leg full of sprained ligaments.
* * *
Applejack returned soon after with a medical bag. She hauled her sister to a sitting position and pushed a dried coil of alastor root into her mouth. It stunk of turpentine and tasted of sour milk, but Apple Bloom pushed it against her gums until she felt its effects. The narcotic root did not dull the pain any, and every nerve in her body was as raw as ever, but the pain no longer seemed important.
She watched as her sister slathered a white paste on her swollen elbows, and then bound them with paper-brown bandages. She sighed at the sensation, this at least was soothing. Her sister blew on each binding, and she felt runes prickle into her skin.
“That’ll speed up the healing,” said Applejack. “Your legs will be right as rain in an hour, but you’ll feel like you haven’t slept in two days.”
Apple Bloom grunted. “I haven’t slept in three days.”
Her sister laughed. “Good, you’re well on your way!” She took a small wooden stick from her pack, held it between her teeth and tongue, and pressed it against Apple Bloom’s neck. She stayed there for a minute, counting the beats under her breath. “Pulse seems stable enough. Now, have you felt a squeezing sensation in your chest and jaw?”
“No.”
“Have you felt like your heart has skipped a beat?”
“No.”
Applejack lifted her chin and stared her in the eye. “Now Apple Bloom, I get hiding symptoms and playing tough, and normally I’d be right with you and say stop whinin’ and get back to work, but in this case I need to know.”
Apple Bloom stared ahead blankly, and giggled. “I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I ache all over. Is that allowed, Doc?”
Applejack patted her sister on the back. “It means you’re on course and I’m darned proud of you.”
She took out a bowl and began to feed her little sister. Mashed sweet potato, with vegetable shortening and cubes of apple. The filly wolfed it down.
“Who the hay came up with the idea of stickin’ lard in rations,” groused Apple Bloom. “It tastes plain disgustin’,” she said, as she munched down another spoonful. “But I can’t stop eatin’ it.”
Applejack grinned sheepishly. “It ain’t an Equestrian recipe. I learned it on the trail from an old friend of mine.”
“I hate it but I can’t stop.” Apple Bloomed looked up at her sister.
“You’re eating enough for three grown stallions,” said Applejack. “Between training all day and not sleeping, you’re still gonna lose weight.”
After the bowl was empty, Applejack packed away the bag. “You stay put. I’m gonna go fetch the keep-in-memory game, that’ll keep you awake until your legs heal up.” She walked over to Apple Bloom, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’m real proud of you, sis,” she said, her eyes shimmering in the dull light of the basement. “You’re gonna be the best dang mage this family has ever seen, I know it.”
As she turned to leave, her sister called out to her.
“What’s up, sis?”
Apple Bloom wore a forced grin, and couldn’t meet her sister’s eyes. “It’s—nah, forget I said anything.”
“Aw, don’t do that. Tell me what’s up.”
The filly cringed. “I... I don’t think I can do it, sis. I don’t see how I can do it.”
Applejack rested a hoof on the filly’s shoulder. “Bloom, what are you talkin’ about? You’re doing great.”
She looked up at her with red eyes. “But it don’t matter, does it? Sis, you’ve always been stronger and tougher than me. Granny Smith says you had to stop half-way through, you had to run away. If you couldn’t do it even after all this training, what chance have I got?”
Applejack stared at her sister for a moment. She burst out laughing, and didn’t stop until her hat fell from her head. “Shucks, that’s what’s got you all knotted up? I forget how young you are sometimes, Bloom.”
The filly glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I didn’t get no trainin’, sis,” said Applejack, her grin lopsided. “I didn’t even know what the Giving Tree was until a few seconds after grammaw threw me inside.”
Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. She stared at her sister in silence. Applejack just laughed. “Sit tight, sis. I’ll be back with the game.”
Applejack soon returned with the box. She faced away from her sister as she set up the game, selecting trinkets for the tray. It took a moment to realise that Apple Bloom had called her name.
“Sis?” She glanced over her shoulder. Apple Bloom’s eyes were glazed from tiredness, but there was an air of contemplativeness about her.
“Can you tell me more about the Giving Tree?” said the filly. “All Granny said is that it hurts and it gives you magic.”
Applejack chuckled softly. “Yeah, that’s about the long and short of it.” She paused, trying to choose the best way to explain such a thing. “You know what dryads are, right?”
Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah, Tree Whisperers, from the fairy tales. Tree spirits.”
“That’s right. Well, a will-o-wisp wanders the forest until it finds a perfect seed. When it does, it pours itself inside and binds itself to the tree. The tree grows, and inside it, the wisp changes into a dryad, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. When the dryad is full-grown she can leave her tree and wander the forest, but she’s still bound to the tree. If one dies, so does the other.
“Now, the Giving Tree was changed by magic, hundreds of years ago. It sucks up will-o-wisps into its fruit, but the fruit never falls. There’s no wood inside its branches, just thick bark wrapped around itself. When they put you into the Giving Tree, the bark closes up around you. Your lungs fill with sap, the roots burrow into your skin, and one of the will-o-wisps falls down into your heart, like a bug slipping down a pitcher plant. Instead of growing inside the tree, the dryad grows inside you. You become two minds in one body. The dryad gains the strength of a pony, and you gain the spells of the dryad.” She added, “That is, after you get used to living with two sets of thoughts in your head.”
Apple Bloom mulled this over. “So how come it hurts?”
“You can breathe the sap, but your brain don’t know it,” said Applejack. “That’s one reason. Also, the roots burrow into your skin everywhere, and I mean everywhere, closer to the date we’ll give you some numbing creams for that. Also, also, sharing your brain for the first time is... uncomfortable.”
“I getcha.” Apple Bloom stared forward for a minute. “So... I’ll be half-dryad?”
“Yup, and the dryad will be half-pony.”
“You said I’ll share thoughts with her,” said Apple Bloom, slowly. “Doesn’t that mean I’ll basically be a different pony when I come out? I mean, if half of my thoughts are hers...”
“Most ponies become different ponies over their lives, that’s what happens when you grow up.”
Apple Bloom nodded, but said nothing.
“Darlin’, you’ll still be you, just this time with a... well, think of it as a cross between a bunkmate and a little sister.”
“Oh, okay.” She looked up at her sister, a thoughtful smile on her lips. “What’s your dryad like?”
Applejack coughed. “...I don’t lie unless it’s important, and I don’t lie to family ‘less it’s even more important. I won’t lie to you, Apple Bloom, and if you ask again I will tell you. But I’d rather not talk about her, for reasons that are my own. It’s your choice, and you have every right to know, but as your sister I’d be darned grateful if you didn’t ask me,” she said, imploringly.
Apple Bloom opened her mouth as if to say something, and slowly closed it. She smiled. “Nah sis, it’s okay, I understand. I think.”
Applejack put a hoof on her shoulder. “Thanks, Bloom. Anyway, let’s play this game before your elbows heal up.”
She placed the cloth-covered tray in front of Apple Bloom, removed the covering, and counted down from ten as her sister studied the assorted miscellanea. When she finished her count, she covered the tray once more. Bleary-eyed and halting, Apple Bloom recited all the objects she could remember. Scissors, quartz, half-a-dozen appleseeds, red string, green string, a brass bracelet, a clear glass bead, a dried potato, a bottle cap. The tray was uncovered again; she had missed about half. She growled in frustration.
“Don’t worry none,” said Applejack, “you scored darn good for a filly on no sleep. How are your elbows feeling?”
Apple Bloom gave her forelegs a jiggle. She winced. “Better, I guess.”
They played several more rounds of the game. Apple Bloom’s score improved with each go, but she never remembered more than two-thirds of the items.
“Sis, what’s all the training about? I mean, like, specifically,” she asked. “I get tryin’ to make me stronger and smarter for when I’m using magic, but how come I’m staying awake for days on end? What’s with all the pain testing? It’s important, so I don’t got a problem with it, I just... I don’t really get why I’m doing it all.”
Applejack nodded. “No reason to keep you in the dark about it, I’ll explain: you’re learning to take pain so that you don’t flail and panic and hurt the both of you when you’re in the tree. You’re training to focus so that you can get used to having two minds. You’re training physical endurance with all this exercise, and mental endurance from staying awake and listening to me barking at you, and that’s all so you can recover faster and there’s less risks. If you’re not trained properly you might injure yourself in the tree, or freak out so much from the disorientation that you get panic attacks for a decade, or burst out of the tree half-way through and end up wandering over Equestria with a broken mind for months--that one’s what I did, and I don’t recommend it.”
“No breaking my mind,” mouthed Apple Bloom. “Got it, sis.”
“Good. Oh, and--now this is a thing we’ll talk about closer to the date, but the way I see, it’s important enough to say again--when you’re in the tree, you might feel like the dryad is taking over. Like, she’s pushing into your mind, stealing your brain and erasing who you are. It’s an illusion! The dryad, she’ll be feeling the exact same thing, and no matter how close y’all get either way, you’re chasing the horizon. Run towards it all you want, it’ll always shrink away. Don’t fight the feeling, just do your best to relax. If you try to fight, you’ll give the dryad the jitters, she’ll try to fight, and you’ll both have a worse time of it.”
Apple Bloom nodded again. “I get you.” Her eyes wandered, and her smile cracked into a grin. She let out a giggle, which turned into a full laugh, and only grew more hysterical as she tried to stifle it.
“You alright there, Bloom?”
She nodded, and wiped a tear out of her eye--her forelegs now healed completely. “Sis, this is gonna suck, aint it?”
Applejack laughed. “Oh, it’s gon’ be the most painful experience of your life so far, by far.” She placed both of her forehooves on her sister’s shoulders. “But you’re gonna do us all proud, sis. There’s nothing in this world I’m more sure of.”