I knew I had to keep up my strength to prepare myself for the dangers that lay ahead that day. But I was fretting so much that I couldn't even enjoy Granny Smith's apple cinnamon pancakes. I might as well have tried to eat Cloudy Quartz Pie's cooking (no offense to Big Mama Q, but granite is for kitchen counter tops, not an ingredient for soup).
Mom was sitting next to me, cradling Apple Bloom in her foreleg while she bottle-fed her. AB's tiny hooves gripped the bottle as she gulped down her milk like it was...well, like it was the last time Mom would ever feed her. My eyes welled up with tears, but I couldn't look away.
After everypony had eaten as much as they could, we all went out to the barn to make sure everything was secure in both wagons. Apple Bloom rode on Mom's back, hiccuping loud enough to wake the dead. Heh, she kinda did wake the dead, in a roundabout way.
Mom passed her over to Granny. “You be good for your Granny while we're gone, sweet pea.”
“Aw, she's always a good little foal,” said Granny, reaching up to make sure AB was balanced on her back.
“Mama bye – hic – bye?” asked Apple Bloom.
“Your mom and I will be back soon,” said Dad, nuzzling her cheek.
“Dada bye bye?” She grabbed his muzzle as he pulled his head away and clung to him like a monkey, trying to curl her little red tail round his neck.
“Apple Bloom.” I looked her in the eyes, all serious-like. “I promise that Mom and Dad and Mac and I will all come back for you. No loopholes.”
She blinked her amber button eyes at me, and lowered her eyebrows, and she nodded like she understood exactly what I meant. 'Course, it was probably just one of them experimental expressions that foals tend to make.
Granny gently pried Apple Bloom off of Dad's head and held her while my parents hitched themselves up to the wagons.
“Climb on in, my little ponies,” said Mom, who was pulling the smaller wagon. “We got a lot of ground to cover afore noon.”
“Just a second.” I nuzzled Granny and Apple Bloom goodbye, just in case I broke my promise and winded up inside a chimera.
Then I hauled my flank up into the wagon next to Mac, and the four of us set off into the Everfree Forest.
I've gone into the Everfree plenty of times, in the other timeline. But this time, I was as scared as the first first time I'd gone in there. Every rock looked like a cragodile, and every harmless tree snake looked like a chimera.
When we were about halfway through the forest, Mom said, “Look, y'all!” She pointed to the left with her muzzle. “A wild phoenix!”
I looked where she was pointing and saw a shining orange bird flying between the tree branches.
“I see it!” said Dad. “Maybe if we're quiet, it'll fly back toward us.”
Not likely with Dad gabbing in his announcer voice. Not that I minded for an instant. I don't wanna get all sappy on you, but Dad's voice is worth a hundred phoenixes to me.
Dad looked at us over his shoulder. “You know, phoenixes are a symbol of hope and renewal, because they die in flames and are reborn in the ashes.”
Just like a couple of miracle ponies I could mention.
“They benefit the forest, too. Since there are no earth ponies here to control the plant growth, the underbrush can become too dense and dry, and whenever there's a wild thunderstorm or a migrating dragon flying too low over the trees...well, you can imagine how dangerous that could be for the forest.”
“Eyup,” said Mac, gazing round at the trees and ferns with a critical eye.
“So, when the phoenix dies and combusts, it creates a controlled burn that clears out the extra tinder,” explained Dad.
“Long story short, not everything in the Everfree is scary,” said Mom, winking up at me.
“Right,” I said. “'Cept it's liable to catch fire when you least expect it.”
“It's a controlled fire.” Dad flicked his tail. “It's only in the Fire Swamp that you have to worry about fire coming up out of the ground at random.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” I rolled my eyes.
When we finally broke out the other side of the Everfree, it was like being in the eye of a hurricane, or so I've heard. Come to think of it, I'd have to go back several more decades in the past to experience what it's like to be in an actual hurricane. Not that I have any intention of doing that.
We were in this green meadow, with the sun shining in our eyes, and the mountains on our right, and the river on our left. And up ahead, we could just see the dark green line that made the western edge of the Fire Swamp. I couldn't help staring upward, looking out for any eagles that might swoop down and carry off our lion tamer's chair or something else important. They're sneaky, those eagles.
Dad said something very dad-like about how we were making good time.
I suggested to him that he and Mom might want to put on their fireproof boots before they got too much closer to the Fire Swamp.
“I reckon we'll wanna wait till we cross the river, at least,” Mom answered for both of them. “Black rubber galoshes can get powerful hot in the sunlight, savvy?”
“Can't be any hotter than the Fire Swamp,” I pointed out.
“I suppose not. I'll put my boots on as soon as we go over the bridge, ok sugar cube?” She nodded at the old stone bridge ahead.
I felt as nervous as a Breezy in a beehive as the wagons rumbled cross the bridge, and the dark line of cypress trees looked closer. It wouldn't be long before the moment of truth arrived – the moment I found out whether or not this risk was worthwhile. Mom and Dad put on their boots when we got to the other side of the river, and sure enough, minutes later they were sweating like glasses of lemonade. I may have had the flop sweats myself. I needed to have my defensive weapons at the ready. I placed one hoof on the chair and another hoof on the old empty jug I'd dug out of the barn. Mom and Dad never owned a proper snake charming flute, which was part of the problem, you see, so I brought the jug along to find out if it would make a good substitute. I reckon I ought to have mentioned the jug sooner, but I didn't think of it till now.
If Mom noticed my anxious fidgeting, she didn't say nothing. She paused and pulled off the empty canteen that hung from a belt round her neck, and she threw it to Mac, who caught it with deft hooves.
“Toss us a couple fresh canteens, will you honey?” she asked.
Mac found some canteens and threw them. Mom caught her full canteen in her foreleg, and Dad caught his with his long tail. Once they were properly hydrated, they were finally ready to step foot in the Fire Swamp.
Oh, by the way, if there are any dragons or griffons reading this, rest assured that pony hooves are feet just the same as your little paws are.
Anyhow, the first thing that strikes you about the Fire Swamp is not so much the heat, but the smell. That's because, besides flames, the geysers spit out sulfur dioxide, or so my dad told me, and I dare you to argue with him. But somehow, plants and trees still grow there. There ain't many leaves close to the ground, but high up away from the hot gas, leaves grow on the cypress trees and swamp pines, and moss clings to the branches for dear life.
One of the bad things about the gas, aside from covering up the scent of everything else, is that it creates a soupy fog that makes it hard to see too far. But at least the chimeras have the same disadvantages as us ponies in that respect.
“Keep your hooves inside the wagon, children,” said Mom. “Wouldn't want the geysers to shoot up at y'all.”
Granny Smith once told us a story about her cousin who went into the Fire Swamp and got his foreleg burnt off to just a little nubbin. I'm certain she was exaggerating, on account of I've seen all her cousins and not a single one of them was ever missing a leg. I think Granny just enjoys scaring us sometimes. Still, that don't mean that kind of thing could never happen to a pony.
Suddenly a geyser roared to life in front of Mom, behind Dad's wagon. It rose high above her head, and it made me jump even though I was expecting it. Mac put his foreleg around me while Mom jerked to a stop and skirted the geyser.
I peered through the fog, taking advantage of the firelight to look out for the chimera.
Sure enough, there were three pairs of eyes reflecting the yellow light. They were grouped all together in front of the wagons, and a little to our right.
My blood turned to ice despite the volcanic activity that surrounded me.
“What is it AJ?” Mac asked quietly.
“Chimera at one o'clock!” I pointed my hoof at the six eyes.
“Awww, the little one gave usss away,” said the cobra head. “Can I eat it firssst?”
Dad slipped out of his harness so he could move more freely. He held up the pepper spray in his tail.
“Don't you dare touch her!” he said. “I've got chimera repellent, and I'm not afraid to use it!”
“Thaaat's cute how you think a little pepper spray will stop us, when we get burned by geysers on a regular basis,” said the billy goat head.
The chimera stalked toward Dad, its three heads grinning like Twilight about to test a new magic spell, as she tells you that “this may feel a little funny at first.” The third head was a leopard instead of the usual lions and tigers I've seen.
Dad turned so that his body was sideways to the chimera and, still holding the canister in his tail, he sprayed the repellent at the predator. At the exact same time, the cobra spit venom at Dad. The two streams hit each other in a hot, misty explosion. Dad and the chimera shielded their faces with their forelegs, and none of them was hurt by the sprays. The good thing about this was that the snake had used up all of his venom and wouldn't be able to make more right away.
I figured this was the perfect time to try out my jug. Taking a deep breath, I blew the one note loud and long.
Jugs are really better suited for percussion than a melody. I wasn't surprised when the cobra didn't fall asleep. Still, it had been worth a try.
“What are you doing?” asked the snake head, staring at me like I'd turned into Pinkie Pie and sprouted a dozen extra legs, as she does.
Mom chose that moment to grab the ax out of the wagon and fling it at the chimera. The heads barely ducked in time, and even then, the ax still grazed the back of the cobra's neck. Hissing in pain, the snake pulled back as blood dripped onto the bulk of the creature's body.
“Nice distraction AJ!” said Mom.
The leopard face growled. “Are you hiding any more weapons in these wagons?” The chimera leaped over Dad and landed on top of his cart, making the wheels creak.
Mom slid out of her harness and gave me a significant look. “Just this.”
I understood her implied maternal command, and hoofed her the lion tamer's chair. As the chimera jumped down to the ground in front of her, Mom wedged the chair into the leopard's mouth, propping his jaws open. But the goat head hadn't been attacked yet, and he kept his eyes on the prize. He swiped his paw at her, catching her in his razor-sharp claws. Mom screamed and put both forelegs round the paw, trying to pry it off her chest.
There was no way was I gonna let my Mom get torn apart by a chimera again. Using my teeth, I picked up the lasso I'd packed and twirled it in the air.
Whenever I'm in “the zone,” I can control my lasso like an extra leg. I think Dad calls it “tactile telekinesis,” but I don't know for sure. You'd have to ask him. Anyhow, I used the force of my entire little body to propel the lasso forward and round the goat's and leopard's necks. Then I broke my promise to Mom. I jumped out the wagon and landed on the ground beside it, and I pulled the rope as low as I could. The chimera lost their balance and toppled onto their side. Their paw pulled away from Mom with a loud tearing noise, and it hooked its claws inside the loop, trying to loosen it. The two mismatched heads gagged and struggled as cobra joined in, tugging at the rope with his fangs to try to free them.
As I pulled the lasso tighter, I felt my flank tingling, but I paid it no mind, on account of I had more important things to worry about.
“AJ, look out!” shouted Mac.
I glanced up to see another motley trio of noggins towering over me – lioness, goat, and viper. Their heavy paw landed on my back, pinning me to the ground, the claws just starting to stick into my hide.
It wasn't all that surprising, really. I'd always thought it should have taken more than one chimera to bring down my parents, tough as they were.
I tried to wriggle out from underneath the paw, but the claws dug in deeper.
Then suddenly a pie flew into the lioness' face, making the predator stagger back. As soon as they lifted their paw to regain their balance, I scrambled away and pressed my back against the wagon. I craned my neck to look up behind me. Mac glanced down over the side of the wagon and nodded at me before picking up another pie and hurling it at the goat head. Even though he's not full-grown, Mac is already as strong as most adult earth ponies, so he can throw foodstuffs with near-lethal force.
During the commotion, the first chimera tugged off the lasso, gasping for breath. All three pairs of eyes glared daggers at me. The predator crouched down and leaped straight for me, but a geyser erupted between us, burning the chimera in midair. The three mouths screeched in pain as the smell of scorched hair filled the swamp. They dropped down into the cool mud, putting out the flames on their coat.
At this point the second chimera had licked most of the pie filling off their faces, and they ran round the geyser and jumped up onto Mac's wagon. Mac saw them in time and dropped down to the ground between the two carts. He stopped in his tracks in front of Mom, staring wide-eyed at the blood smeared on her pale green coat. Mom looked stunned herself, but she had the presence of mind to push him behind her.
It was mighty hard to keep track of what everypony – and everychimera – was doing. I didn't see the cobra head of the first chimera coming towards me until Dad galloped over and beaned it with a big old branch. It fell to the ground like a wet noodle. The other heads growled at him as they pulled their legs under their body, getting ready to charge at him. He swung the branch at the leopard's face, and the big cat caught it in his jaws. They pulled back and forth in a hostile game of tug-of-war. I noticed how the chimera had all four legs braced on the ground. Then I turned round and bucked the goat with my small-but-powerful hind leg. The left half of the chimera went as limp as a Hearthswarming doll (the Apple kind, not the Pie kind). Shocked, the leopard let go of the branch as he tried to stay on his two good, conscious feet. Dad stumbled back just a little before he caught his balance. The leopard head looked at the other two knocked-out heads before meeting Dad's eyes.
“I give up,” he said, his eyes large and round. “I can't hunt like this. Please, let us go.”
Dad took his branch out of his mouth and held it in his foreleg so he could reply, “You weren't going to let us go.” Then he clubbed the leopard head. The predator's eyes rolled back as he fell forward into the mud.
“Are you all right Jackie?” asked Dad, giving me a quick look over.
“I'm fine. I'm more worried about Mom and Big Mac.” I glanced between the two wagons and saw Mom and the chimera facing off. The goat head had a black eye, and Mom was covered in more blood than before, and I didn't see Mac anywhere. I bit my lip.
“Applejack, look where that chimera is.” Dad spoke more hushed than usual. “If we quickly push the two wagons together, we can trap it. Do you think you can do that?” His eyes strayed to my flank, and I followed his gaze. If you're reading this, of course, you've already seen my mark. A lasso.
“Huh. I thought for sure it'd be apples.”
Dad gave me a half-smile. “Don't worry about that now.”
“You're right, Dad. 'Course I'll help you save Mom. I'll get behind the wagon, and you just tell me when to push.”
Dad nodded, and I ran behind the rear wagon. He galloped over to Mom and whispered to her. Hopefully the chimera didn't hear him, since Dad normally doesn't realize how loud he is. I peeked over the wagon and saw Mom ducking down.
“Now!” shouted Dad.
I pushed my shoulder against the cart and moved forward, pushing with all my might. The chimera bleated and yowled in pain. I knew I had to keep pushing until it stopped.
“No!” yelled the viper. She tried to lash out at me and Dad, but she couldn't reach us.
Then suddenly, there was a loud, familiar crack – the sound of wood splitting. A tree fell on top of the lioness and goat heads, and they slumped forward, quiet as the grave. I looked over and saw Mac standing at the base of the fallen maple, his body facing away from us.
“Sisters!” said the snake. “Hold on!”
Oh. Right. They were sisters. That was easy to forget – and it made it harder to savagely hurt them, knowing they were a family. But, consarnit, they actually tore my Mom a new one! What was I supposed to do?
The viper wrapped her neck/body round the tree trunk and tried to move it, but it was a bit like trying to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps.
“Is everypony all right?” When Dad said everypony, I knew he meant everypony. Usually he'd say everyone in order to be inclusive.
As I walked round the wagon toward Dad, Mom crawled out from under the other cart, looking like something the cat dragged in. Her galoshes were all muddied and she still had blood coating her shoulder, and her mane and tail were more frazzled than Rarity pulling an all-nighter. But she was alive. Everypony was alive. I picked up my pace to a gallop and threw my forelegs round her neck.
Mom laid her front hoof on my back and gave me a weak smile. “Y'all broke your promise.”
“I know, Mom. But I also promised Apple Bloom she would see all of us again. And I couldn't keep both promises. I just figured the second promise was more important.”
Lifting a stiff foreleg, Mom ruffled my mane. “That's why your cutie mark is...” She pulled her hoof back and made a wobbly circle in the air. “...A loophole. Even though you promised you wouldn't use none.” Her eyes glazed over as she started to lose her balance.
Dad looked powerful concerned as he supported her with his shoulder. “Here, Spice, drink some more water.” He held a canteen to her lips. That was smart, since Mom had lost a lot of blood, and I got the sense that she needed to replenish her fluids.
While Mom drank, I got the iodine and cotton balls out of the first aid kit, and cleaned the three puncture wounds on her left shoulder. It wasn't long before the cotton snagged on something hard sticking out of Mom's hide. I gently felt it with my hoof and pulled it. Out came a claw as long as my muzzle. Mac whistled softly as I held it up.
“You hang on to that for me, sugar,” said Mom. “Show the folks back home.”
I set it aside careful-like. If nothing else, I could keep it as a reminder of what I'd changed – as if Mom and Dad and my cutie mark weren't enough reminders. Mom stood stoically as I finished cleaning her wounds and taped gauze over them.
“Ya done good, sugar cube. I reckon I feel right as rain.” Mom forced a smile. She did look cleaner, at least, but still pale and worn out. She pushed on the rear wagon, but only had enough strength to move it a few inches away from the trapped chimera. Quick as a whip, Mac galloped over to help her move it back so they could steer it round the eerie-looking obstacle. Then he put on the harness.
“What are you doing, hon?” Mom narrowed her eyes at him. “You ain't big enough to pull that cart through the Fire Swamp.”
“Eyup.”
“Eyup you are, or eyup you ain't?”
“Eyup.” Mac started to to walk forward, hauling the cart behind him.
Mom put her hoof to her forehead. “I got trapped in the 'eyup loop,' I swore I'd never let him do that to me,” she muttered.
“I think Mac is big enough,” said Dad. “Frankly I don't know if we would've made it out of this swamp alive if he and Jackie hadn't been here to help.”
Mac smiled bashfully at him, and I recalled that he would struggle with his sense of self-worth later in life, it he wasn't already.
I decided that I would have to do better to encourage him. “You got this, big brother,” I said with a wink.
He ducked his head and stared up at Mom.
“Aw, sugar, don't give me that look,” she said. “You were great today, a real hero.” She ruffled his mane. “But you're still just a colt. I should be taking care of you.”
“You have to take care of yourself first,” Dad pointed out. “You're in no condition to pull this wagon.”
“Come on now Arbor, I'm as healthy as...well, me!” She glanced at the snake head, who had given up trying to move the tree trunk, and had settled on glaring in our direction.
Remember how ponies used to live in wandering tribes in the grasslands and get chased by meat-eaters? Us Apples remember. We remember the times gone by when ponies had to hide their aches and pains so they didn't look like easy targets for a timberwolf or some-such.
Never show weakness. Cry on the inside.
But I've always been able to tell when other ponies are hurt or weak. Can sense it in trees and animals, too. It's my special earth sense. Most earth ponies have some sort of magical sense that tells them more about the world around them and helps them in their line of work. I suppose the other tribes do to, but I don't know as much about them. Earth ponies have many different special senses, but they tend to run in families. Mac and I have the same “health sense” for lack of a better word, but Mom and Apple Bloom can only sense damage in plant life, while Dad doesn't have any “health sense” at all, but can tell you the pH level of just about any substance, accurate within a tenth of a point.
Dad didn't need health sense to tell that Mom was feeling more poorly than she let on, though. Her skin looked pale through her green coat.
“You might be able to fool that viper over there, but you can't fool me, Spice.” Dad waved his hoof toward the first aid kit. “Applejack, is there any anti-inflammatory medicine in there?”
I rifled through the case and found the pill bottle double-quick.
“I reckon I could ride in the wagon until the meds kick in,” said Mom, as I pressed a pill and a turnover into her hooves. Dad waited next to her with the canteen at the ready.
“But at least wear my boots, Mac,” she said, kicking off the mud-coated galoshes. “Sorry about the sweat,” she added, scrunching her muzzle.
When he put on the boots, Mac didn't seem to mind the sweat, and they ended up fitting him pretty near perfect. Actually, Mom's boots seemed to put an extra spring in Mac's step. This didn't surprise me one bit.
I was mighty relieved that my folks had lasted this long, but there were still a couple of loose ends to tie up.
“What are we gonna do about the chimeras?” I asked.
Mom, Dad, and Mac stared at the two mix-and-match critters.
“We are going to have to go back through this swamp.” Dad rubbed his chin.
“I expect AJ could tie 'em up with her fancy rope tricks,” Mom said with a proud smile.
“I'm sure she could, but who is going to untie them?”
“Should we care?” I asked, sounding a touch more angry than I intended. “After what they did to y'all?”
Mom blinked in surprise. “AJ, I'm fine.”
“I can tell your wounds are starting to swell, and they would've torn you limb from limb if Mac and I hadn't been here! Dad said so!”
“I didn't say that exactly.” Dad rubbed one of his forelegs against the other.
Mom took a shaky breath. It was plain that the fight with the chimeras had rattled her more than she cared to admit.
“I reckon we oughtta wait and decide what to do with the chimeras after we all have time to cool off,” she said. “We're coming back this way anyway, right?”
“Eyup,” answered Mac.
“We could ask the Hayseed Swamp citizens what they want us to do with the chimeras,” suggested Dad. “After all, they have to live with these creatures practically in their backyard.”
“That's a fine idea Arbor,” said Mom.
I found my rope and hogtied both chimeras (not that I'd ever tie my own hogs like that, but sometimes wild hogs come in from the Everfree). If I bound them tighter than necessary, well, I suppose y'all can understand why.
Then I helped Mom climb into wagon, and I sat down beside her. Before Mac started pulling away, he hoofed me the curved black claw. I tucked it into my hair tie. It was a trophy showing not just what I'd changed, but what I'd overcome with my family.
We weren't out of the Fire Swamp yet. But I was just pleased as punch that my folks were still alive for me to fret over them.