//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: On the Road to Galloway // by Matthew Penn //------------------------------// Applejack bucked several trees in heated fury, threw rocks and screamed bloody murder. She swore like a sailor at the top of her lungs, the screamed some more. There was almost a moment she pulled her own hair out. It was a side of her neither Macintosh or Apple Bloom had seen, and hope to never see again. It was so much so that Macintosh was seeking his third born sister for protection. It didn’t seem anyone was able to calm her down. Even the environment was disturbed by her actions. After long, continuous moments of fury, Applejack once again dropped to her hind quarters, defeated and tired.         She lay on her back, put her stetson over her face. Apple Bloom slowly approached her, as she came close she heard soft crying that was muffled through her hat. The filly knelt beside her, and with caution she removed the stetson from Applejack’s face.         “Applejack,” she said. She didn’t respond, only staring at the sky. Applejack had the look of a mare who had lost all hope and was on the verge to cry a second time. In fact, she did just that. With one of her hooves over her freckled face, Applejack huffed, sniffed, and let her other hoof hit the ground.         This was impossible, they all thought. Only a day had passed, and Applejack surrendered. It was one of the very few times Macintosh and Apple Bloom had seen her cry like this.         Mac couldn’t stand to see Applejack sobbing in a puddle of her own tears. He did what any good big brother would do if they knew their sister had the world turned against them. Mac walked to her and wrapped his loving red around.         “Applejack, it ain’t your fault,” he said.         She wiped the tears away. “Of course it’s not.” Mac got a different reaction than what he expected from her. There was a coldness in Applejack’s response. Then, surprisingly, she glared at him with her tear-soaked eyes. “If anything… it’s your fault.”         Mac pulled his arm away in disgust. “What the hay are you talking about?” he asked angrily.         “Eat the fruit, Applejack,” she said, trying to mimick him. “You hungry, ain’t ya? It won’t bite! We’ve been starving all day! If you hadn’t bugged me into eating that gosh-forsaken fruit, then I wouldn’t had passed out! I would have given whoever tried to steal our wagon a good beating! It’s because of you this happened!”         “You know what, you’ve been blaming me for everything since this trip started!” Mac shouted. “You got some nerve to do that!”         “It wouldn’t happen if you remembered to bring that goshdarn map!”         “Oh there you go with that map again! Always about that map! Why didn’t you remember to bring food?”         Their voices grew louder, more angrier, echoes filled the air. Hooves were pointed to each other, it would be a matter of time before it became physical. In the midst of their squabble Apple Bloom crawled between them, and with a loud voice coming from her they stopped.         “Stop fighting, Please!” she begged. “Please… stop.”         All was silent, although nothing had changed. The wagon was still missing and the Apples were still lost. However, they both stared at Apple Bloom. She held her little arms out to both of them in an effort to stop the escalation, blocking them from going further into their heated arguing. Then, when she felt it was safe, she put her hooves down. She walked away from them. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Never in her life did she witness anything going downhill so fast. She looked at her siblings, finding that they dragged the tip of their hooves on the dirt, eyes to the ground in shame.         “I wanna get out of here,” she said sadly. “Let’s just go already.”         “Where can we go?” Applejack asked.         “I don’t know, I just want to leave and forget this ever happened,” Apple Bloom said. She thought back to the night Granny Smith told them about the troll that lived under the bridge to Galloway. No troll could ever come close to the situation they were in. Yet, throughout the trip, the troll never left her thoughts. Even if there were an actually troll hiding beneath the troll, Apple Bloom was too disappointed in her siblings to let it frighten her. Macintosh looked ahead and behind him. He didn’t know which way to go. They could keep forward, but where would that lead them? He jerked his head down, sighing and groaning. The only thing he wanted for this nightmare to end. He walked to the spot where the wagon was before. There was something on the ground that caught his eye. He scanned the dirt, and looking closely he saw wheel tracks imprinted on the ground. Not only that, there were hoofprints along with it. “Apple Bloom, Applejack,” he called.         “What is it, Macintosh?” said Applejack wearily.         “I think I know where to find the wagon.” Whoever these ponies were who took their wagon, they hadn’t done a good job of covering their tracks. The Apples followed them throughout the morning, not once taking their eyes away from the ground. There was not a way to know for sure how many ponies took off with the cider, but soon, everthing will be revealed in time.         “What are you guys going to do when ya find them?” Apple Bloom asked.         “I don’t know what I’ll do,” answered Applejack. “But I do know that I’m going to remind them of keeping their grubby, little hooves to themselves.”         Apple Bloom knew what that meant, but she kept quiet.         Macintosh didn’t give an answer. He kept his eyes solely on the tracks on the ground. “Are you sure these tracks will lead us to the wagon?” asked Applejack.         “I’m positive.”         “Well, I remember how positive you were about something… and look how that turned out.”         Macintosh gave her a look, the huffed and returned to the dirt tracks. Applejack shook her head. Why are they still upset with each other? Apple Bloom thought. Even when something remotely good came from all this, they still bud heads. Hopefully things will get better once they get the wagon back, although they hadn’t an idea of where to go. By then Applejack and Mac will continue to argue until they ran out of breath. Apple Bloom sighed at the thought.         They continued to follow the wheel tracks and hoofprints. At one point Applejack became annoyed. She pestering her brother on whether they were close or not, as well as asking if he knew what he was doing. Mac decided not to pay attention to her, but the more she complained he had thoughts of bucking her in the face.         Finally, but with no success, they arrived at the end of the tracks. A hill blanketed in tall, freshly green grass stood in their way.         “Will you look at that,” Applejack said. “A dead end! I should’ve known you’d lead us here! Thanks for nothing, Macintosh Apple!”         “Will you get off my back?” he said in a loud voice. “I’m telling you, the tracks are gonna lead us to our wagon!”         “Okay… where is it? I sure don’t see it!”         There they were, at it again, Apple Bloom thought. If they kept wasting time trying to raise their voices and playing the blame game, they will never find the cider wagon. Apple Bloom sat on a tree stump and watched them speak ills. This was going to take a while, as it usually did. However, their bickering ended quickly than she had expected. Macintosh and Applejack had their backs facing each other and march toward opposite directions. Their arms folded over their chests. What are they going to do now?         Suddenly, Apple Bloom’s ears picked up a faint sound from the air. What was it, and where was it coming from? She jumped off the stump and trotted to the hill.         “Do y’all here that?” she asked.         There was no answer from her siblings. All the two did was sat there and pout like stubborn foals. Apple Bloom groaned, but kept her focus on the sound. As she listened, it sounded like music being played on a flute. She climbed to the top of the hill, and from there she saw a wide-open space being occupied by ponies wearing brightly-colored clothes and strange hats, most of them resembled court jesters. A band played medieval folk music; the band consists of a pony blowing on pipes, another on banging on the drums, a smaller pony plucking the strings of a mandolin, and a tambourine player. They danced and sang along to the tune the band was playing, but there was something else that stood out from the scene.         After scanning the area, Apple Bloom found their cider wagon. “Guys, I found it! I found it! It’s over there! Come quick!”         The stubborn pair wasted no time trotting up the top of the hill. Apple Bloom pointed downward, and sure enough their wagon was present. Unfortunately, one of the barrels had a faucet attached to it, and was being used to serve drinks to the party.         Applejack’s orange skin became red with rage, even more so than Macintosh. With a voice full of spite and hatred she muttered how they only have nine barrels left. Apple Bloom inspected the party scene. Two ponies came from between the surrounding trees with a net full of fish, but that wasn’t what interested her. In the midst of the party she found a baby goat tied to a stick by the neck. Nopony wearing the bright clothes paid attention to it. They never offered it some food.         “That poor goat,” she said. “He look so sad.”         “Why are you hung up about the goat? Those thieves got our cider!” said Applejack. Each moment the colorful jesters filled their glasses made her blood boil. She couldn’t take the sight of it any longer. She marched down the steep hill, with Macintosh and Apple Bloom following behind her. The jesters noticed a trio of uninvited guests, then the music and activity ceased. “You all a bunch of sticky little thieves! Taking my wagon away like that, with yer stupid costumes! Who do you think you are! Give back my wagon, now!”         Silence passed between the jesters and Applejack. Mocking laughter filled the air, causing her heart to beat at a faster rate. Her hoof stabbed the ground.         “Oh, ho, ho, why should we give it to you?” one of them said. He was a gray earth pony with a large brown mustache. He wore a green, clownish buttoned shirt with blue overalls. From his high-pitched voice and accent Apple Bloom believed he might have been from Trottingham, much like one her friends from school, only it was less sophisticated in this pony’s case. On second thought, it sounded fake. “My lads and I found it fare and square,” he said, twirling his mustache.         “No you didn’t, y’all done stole it!” Applejack yelled.         “Well, you know the ancient saying… if thou snoozeth, thou shalt looseth.” This caused more riotous laughter from the jesters. Good show, old boy. I couldn’t have said it better myself, another one of them said. Steam blew from Applejack’s nose. Her temperature rose to dangerous levels. With a wave of his hoof the laughter faded. “Now go away, all of you. As you know, this is a private party.”         “What are we going to do, Applejack?” Apple Bloom asked.         Nothing was said. Applejack delivered a death-glare to the pony who mocked her. With a smile so vile, so repulsive, he trotted to the cider barrel and lowered his glass under the faucet. More of her precious cider was filling his glass. No, it wasn’t how it should be. This was just wrong in more ways than one. She must not let his tongue taste anymore of that cider, not even a little, tiny, insignificant drop. Applejack leaped toward the net full of fish, caught one with her teeth, and wield it like it were a sword, then tumbled toward the pony and slapped the glass from his hoof before it reached his lips.         The glass shattered on impact with the ground. The gray pony squinted his eyes at her, then tumbled to the fish net to grab a fish of his own. He held it with his teeth in the same manner as Applejack.         “En garde!” he said through his teeth.         A duel commenced. Applejack and her opponent slapped their fishes together, clashing like swords. They leaped, tumbled, twirled, caught in a dance of conflict; the gray pony held his guard while Applejack focused all her energy and hatred on him.         Macintosh took the opportunity to take the wagon, but the jesters seized him and dog piled on top of him. However, he forced them off with one push off the ground. Then a smaller pony started to strangle him, shouting and cursing at in his own munchkin tongue. Macintosh snatched the mandolin from the ground and forced it upon the munchkin’s head, which caused it to split apart. The small jester saw stars and canaries.         Apple Bloom sat next to the baby goat and watched the scene unfold. It was rather silly.         As Macintosh fought off the remaining jesters, Applejack was locked in fish combat with the gray pony. She furiously used her fish to push the pony to the ground. Although she kept up the good fight, the fish slipped from her teeth, which her opponent an opportunity. He slapped his fish on her cheek, and she fell on her side.         Macintosh saw what happened, and called out for her, but the jesters caught hold of him. The gray pony with the cartoonishly large mustache stood over Applejack. “I am the victor, and the wagon is mine!” he declared. The pony laughed like one of those villains in those old serials. Then something sent him flying into the barrel they were drinking from. Applejack looked and found that her savior was the baby goat. The goat bleated like a warrior and headbutt the rest of the jesters until they were lying on the ground with the wind knocked out of them. All was finished, and the wagon was reclaimed. Apple Bloom stood next to the baby goat, and to the defeated jesters she shouted, “That’s what y’all get for neglecting him!”