A Shadow in the Night

by DoggonePony

Chapter 2: The Fraying Edge

Work, work, work, Applejack griped to herself as she hauled another cart of apples around the corner of the barn. That’s all I’m good for these days. The paint on the barn was peeling, fading, chipping off the wooden siding that had been rotten for years. Just more chores for the list. The thought alone made her fur crawl. Sure, she enjoyed working the orchards. But there was more to life than picking apples. And apparently, it’s squishin’ ‘em, she huffed, trudging under the lean-to next to the barn and tipping her payload into the brand new cider press.

Business had only flourished in the past few years, and the help had all but dried up. Big Mac still made the rounds, though not as often. He, of all ponies, Applejack understood. At least he’d made an honest life for himself. And not a soul in the world could have asked for a better sister-in-law. The rest, in her humble opinion, had sold the Apple Family short. Granny Smith had snuck out in the midst of one particularly stormy night, leaving only a scribbled apology:

Dear Youngin’s,

Celestia knows I ain’t got too much applesauce left in these old bones of mine. So, instead of

putzing around, gettin’ in everypony’s way, I reckoned I’d spend my golden years making up

for lost time. There’s still so much of Equestria this old mare hasn’t seen, and Zecora

offered – darn tootin’ she did – to be my official guide. How fancy is that? Now, I know you’ll

be awful sore at me for leavin’ on such short notice, but I didn’t want you makin’ a fuss over

nothin’ as simple as your old Granny takin’ a walk. Y’all are big enough to take care of your-

selves. You’re keen enough to know I’m proud of ya. And you’re strong enough to say good-

bye. Don’t worry your pretty little heads too much. This gal has still got a whiff or two of the

old fighting spirit in her. And I’ll be wantin’ some Zap Apple pie when I get back. Until then.

Much love,

Granny

It wasn’t much of a legacy, but it would have to do. Apple Bloom had taken it the hardest. Not a month later, she escaped to Manehattan with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders to room with Babs, no doubt gossiping into the waning hours about colts and fashion and the like. Why they still called themselves by their long-defunct title was beyond Applejack. But then again, so was most everything those days.

The cider press, like all newer models, came equipped with a safety harness, which she promptly ignored climbing aboard the adjacent treadmill. She started off with a trot, just to prime the grinders. The trot was easy. It was comfortable. It was necessary. But it just felt… a little too familiar. The whole lot of it did. At the height of a successful business, surrounded by loving friends and family, and all she could do – all she could think about was running in place. Her distracted rhythm quickened with resentment, and she soon had the press at full capacity. She didn’t even notice the barrel overflowing until it sprayed her square in the eye.

“Confarnit!” she barked, skidding the press to a halt. The friction alone would have burned her something fierce had her calloused, splintered hooves any feeling. “I swear, one o’ these days…”

A bright blue head, soaked in a mint-green mane, popped out from the barn door. “Need any help, Miss Applejack?” A new hire, by the name of Atlas Indigo, strolled over. The cerulean earth pony was built like a mountain – even Big Mac seemed dwarfed in his shadow – and yet, he was timid as a mouse. Perhaps out of fear of his own strength, he was cautiously polite to everypony he met. Applejack had given up on convincing him to drop the “Miss”. It was just another straw on the horse’s back, but it wasn’t reason enough to be cross.

“Oh, hey there, Atlas,” she said, bucking one barrel aside and nudging a fresh one under the press. “I’m fine, thanks. Just a little absent-minded is all.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Applejack grunted, trying to wedge the stubborn barrel up onto the press spigot. “You done fixin’ that busted water chute yet?”

He didn’t respond.

Applejack peered over. He was the strong and silent type, but far from rude. He was frozen, mouth lolled open, eyes the size of pie tins and glued to the sky behind her. She traced his gaze over her shoulder and instantly found the source of his attention. There, creeping over the woods on the other edge of town, was a thickening pillar of cloud. With grim intent it wormed its way through the otherwise beautiful sky.

“What in tarnation…” Applejack stood, just as dumbfounded as Atlas, until a blinding streak of lightning jolted them both off balance. The following crack of thunder seemed to split the earth beneath them, shaking hundreds of apples and dozens of frightened birds from the orchard trees. “Well, isn’t that just fine!” Applejack whined. “When I asked fer help buckin’ apples, that wasn’t what I had in mind.” She stormed back past Atlas, his eyes still fixated on the charred heavens. When she reemerged from the barn, saddled with a fraying, weaved basket on either side, she was breaking for the tree line. “Well, c’mon now, Atlas. We ain’t got time to let them apples all rot!”

“Miss Applejack…”

“Oh, fer Celestia’s sake. I told ya not to call-”

Her ears twitched, they burned with a soothing static – a faint crackling that lingered in the air.

“Figures,” she huffed. Her eyes turned back towards the horizon just as it lit up once more. A brilliant, blazing rainbow screeching at the heels of… whatever that was, like a dog after a cat. The echo of the Sonic Rainboom was less dramatic, at least this far out, though it sill popped a few eardrums. But the path they both traced was directly over Fluttershy’s cottage, and so Applejack turned and plodded back towards the house. As she passed Atlas, his country sensibilities still reeling from what he’d seen, she dropped the baskets at his hooves. “Save what ya can of the apples,” she said.

“Ma’am?”

“I gotta go set the table.”

“I… but… now? Why?”

“’Cause mah sister-in-law is on her way.” And with that, Applejack disappeared into the rustic farmhouse.

---

Sure as the winter snow, Fluttershy and family came hurrying up the dirt road to Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack was just fixing the last place setting when the knock came. She answered the door to find Fluttershy, shivering more than usual, with Big Mac and Springtime in tow.

“Well, shucks,” Applejack chimed, “isn’t this a surprise? And I just finished settin’ the table.”

“Y-you did?” Fluttershy asked, astonished at the proposed coincidence.

“Sure ‘nuff, Sugarcube. Now get yer perfectly-timed flanks in here.”

Fluttershy stumbled in on trembling legs and eyed the beautifully set kitchen table. “Were you expecting us?”

“Huh?” Applejack grunted. “Oh, no. Uh… Berry Punch said she might come over, and-“

“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy gasped. “We aren’t intruding, are we?”

Applejack scratched at the sudden itch on her nape. “Naw, we’re… we’re in an ‘off-again’ part of the relationship right now, so… she prolly won’t show anyhow.” She kicked herself inside for dragging Berry Punch into things. Their relationship was cause for enough tentative small-talk already. Most ponyfolk were keen to just let it simmer quietly, stagnantly, in a forced sort of apathy, but gossip spread just the same. It wasn’t so much the labels as the way they were muttered, behind turned backs and closed doors, in the dark corners of town. Applejack wasn’t any different. She didn’t work or laugh or love any less because of it. She was just being honest with herself and others. But, no matter the talk, she cared for Berry Punch. Her thick skin and local charm got her through the rest.

“But,” Fluttershy stammered, “the table’s set for three.”

“Oh, well I, uh… thought I’d invite Atlas, too. He’s the new hired hoof around here.”

“And the booster seat?”

Applejack’s face flushed. “Aw, shoot. I ain’t one for fibbin’.” She looked at Fluttershy’s puzzled eyes. “I reckoned ya might stop by, what with the light show ‘n all.” She offered a sheepish grin.

“So you saw it, too?!” Fluttershy asked, pouncing forward, eager for an answer.

Applejack laughed. “Honey, blind Brayin’ Bill saw that mess. Weren’t a soul in Ponyville that didn’t.” She subtly herded the family to the table as the conversation continued.

“So, what do you think it was?” Fluttershy rocked nervously on her seat, but kept her eyes fixed on Applejack.

“Ya mean, besides Rainbow Dash foulin’ up another perfect weather plan?”

“AJ,” Big Mac butted in, “this could be something big.”

“Ain’t nothin’ more than tomfoolery, y’all. And no brother, sister-in-law, or adorable niece o’ mine is gonna convince me otherwise.” She threw a look to Springtime. “Sorry, Sugarcube.”

Springtime bounced in her booster seat, banging on the table with a bubbly smile. “Applemap!” she cooed, still a few months shy of proper pronunciation.

“That’s right!” Applejack replied. “And don’t you forget it.”

Fluttershy shifted in her seat. “But-“

“Now, Fluttershy. This is yer sister, Applejack, remember?”

“Sister-in-law, actu-“

“The loyalest of friends and the most dependable of ponies?”

Big Mac rolled his eyes. How many times had he gotten that speech over the years?

“But what if it is something big?!” Fluttershy demanded, welling with tears. “What if we have to go on some dangerous adventure? With scary dragons or mean lightning ponies?”

Applejack chuckled. “If only Fate were that kind, Sugarcube.”

Fluttershy dried her eyes, staring bewildered at her friend. “Y-you mean you want to go on a dangerous adventure?!”

“Oh, Sweetie. The bits I’d pay.”

“But… but it’s dangerous!”

“And adventuresome, I know.” Applejack sighed as she stared out the window at the fading swirl of clouds in the distance.

“Well that doesn’t make any sense.” She turned to Big Mac, who offered a warm smile. One of the many things he loved about Fluttershy was her unquenchable innocence. And one of the many things she loved about him was his knack for curing nearly any fear with a soft look and a casual grin.

“Maybe not,” Applejack said, “but I reckon I know what might.” She buried her head in the pantry, rustling jars and cans and Celestia knows what else. When she finally came up for air, she held in her mouth a plate of scrumptious apple cobbler. “Who’s up for dessert first?”

Fluttershy whimpered and squirmed. Applejack sighed, placing the cobbler on the kitchen counter and walking over to her side. “Listen, Sugarcube. I know you’re worried. So am I. We all are.”

“R-really?”

“Honest to goodness,” she said with a wink. “And tomorrow, we’ll go see Rainbow Dash and ask her what happened. How’s that sound?”

“You promise?”

“Cross mah heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in mah eye.” As she poked herself unceremoniously in the eye, a curdling scream rang out from off in the distance. Far off. Everypony at the table exchanged glances. There was only one mare in all of Equestria with the lungs to reach the orchard from town, and both Applejack and Fluttershy came to the conclusion in unison.

“Rarity!”

Fluttershy turned to Big Mac, “Stay here with Springtime, please!” He nodded. Applejack was already out the front door as Fluttershy galloped out after her. She tried desperately to keep up, but it seemed playfully chasing a foal in the yard was hardly the same as sixteen hours of daily farm labor. Still she ran, throat burning with every winded breath.

“C’mon, Shy!” Applejack called back. C’mon yourself, AJ. She forced herself to run faster. Nothing about the day’s events sat right with her. Her words of comfort were as much for Fluttershy as for herself. First the lightning, then Rainbow Dash, now this. In her prime, Rarity was something of a drama queen, but over the years, she’d learned to pick her battles more carefully. If she was screaming, she was in trouble. Probably.

Somewhere along the trail, Applejack had lost her hat to the wind. It, like everything else on the farm, was musty, full of holes, and in dire need of replacement. The country mare herself felt the same from time to time. Still young, but never quite as spry. Even now, her joints were crying out for rest. A full gallop into town should have been a summer breeze. But time stops for no pony, no matter how stubborn she might be. It was moments like this when Applejack saw the wisdom in Granny Smith’s departure – in taking a breath and letting the world sort itself out for once. But there was life in her yet, and she wasn’t about to let a sour hoof or two keep her from a friend in need.

As the path cleared and Ponyville flooded into view, Applejack slid to a halt. Bounding over the last hill, white as a marshmallow pie and mane bobbing in perfection, came Rarity. Though their friendship had never settled on solid ground, it was a friendship nonetheless, and one that had weathered too many storms to give out over petty squalls. Built more on hope than trust, it was unique among the six. And yet, when push came to shove – or shove came to overdramatic faint – more often than not they found themselves on the other’s doorstep.

“Oh, Applejack!” Rarity cried, slowing to a stop, gasping for air.

“I’m here for ya, Sugarcube.” Applejack mustered what she could of a smile. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“They’re growing!” Her voice squeaked as she danced nervously between hooves.

“Ya finally take up gardening?” Applejack quipped. “Y’know, the vegetables are supposed to-“

“Oh, this isn’t the time for your sass, darling. It’s the crystals!” Fluttershy finally straggled into view, legs like noodles and Applejack’s hat in her mouth. “Oh, Fluttershy, dear. You believe me, don’t you?”

Fluttershy spit out the dusty old hat and wiped her tongue with her hoof. “Of course I do, Rarity. We’re friends after all. But what are-“

“See?” Rarity stared Applejack down. “Fluttershy is a true friend.”

Applejack returned the glare, but to no avail. “Well Fluttershy’s-” she caught herself. “Ya haven’t even told us what’s goin’ on.”

“Well if you’d listen,” Rarity said, a sing-song piety to her words. Applejack growled. “I was out collecting gems for a glorious ensemble this morning, when I stumbled upon one most… unusual. It stood as tall as a stallion, and shone with a brilliant, deep violet hue.” Fluttershy’s eyes widened and her lips pursed at the wild tale. “But try as I might, it wouldn’t budge. As if it had taken up root.” She paused to raise a hoof to her forehead in distress. “Then, without warning, the sky burst into light and a terrible thunder erupted from the heavens. It shook the ground with a terrible heft!” Applejack nearly gagged on the theatrics. “It split the magnificent gem, shattering it to a thousand tiny shards.” She stopped.

“And?!” Applejack barked.

“Isn’t it wonderful? Like destiny! I knew right then I was meant to have those crystals. So, I gathered them in a sack and brought them home. But when I arrived and emptied the sack on my desk, they began to… change.”

“Change?” Fluttershy gasped. “Change how?”

Rarity looked her dead in the eye. “They blackened. Like the night sky.” She broke her dramatic tone, pulling back and shaking her head in disgust. “And now they’re growing and it’s icky and Applejack, darling, you simply have to help me!”

But Applejack was busy. Busy losing all color in her coat. Blackened crystals, rooted, growing, changing – it was all too familiar. She could see Fluttershy puzzling over it, as well, grasping at the same straws. But it couldn’t be coincidence, not after everything else. Her mind was racing faster than a field mouse in an eagle’s sights. She tried to bill it as something –anything else – but the same answer kept drilling back in. They’d seen it all before, at the Crystal Empire. She’d thought they’d won, that they’d closed that book for good. She’d thought they were free of that nightmare. It was too early to say for certain, but here and now – at the cusp of everything new and mysterious – it seemed an ancient, shadowed past lay waiting to return.