Feather of Days Past ~ The Old and New

by Dennet

Breeze of For and Against

Chapter VIII

" 'rite, 'rite! We're leavin'..."

Mac swore he could resonate with any animal. It only came natural to him, his innate earth pony magic helping him greatly. The animals around Fluttershy's cottage were even more prone to spending time with him, and he was overjoyed with their eagerness. In some way, they were different than ponies. They had no prejudice to hide behind.

And yet this white bunny was more than content to keep assaulting the large behemoth with wave after wave of knives laced with the most deadly venom, coming straight out of its eyes. Were it able to speak, it would probably yell obscenities at the stallion, most probably accusing him of being a freak of nature, of holding away the pegasus in the dangerous forest and possibly for a plethora of other nonsensical reasons.

"Macintosh, just... ignore him." Twilight added from outside the hut. She had barely moved her mouth, instead a faint sparkle on her horn betrayed her spell. Was she projecting words straight into his mind?

"He's simply made that way."

As Mac walked outside, the doors promptly shut themselves after him, enveloped by the unicorn's shimmering aura. He heard a few clicks from inside, mechanisms sliding across metal surfaces. The mare before him stuck her tongue out as if she was busy solving a puzzle.

"...all done, locked up. I hope I didn't forget any keys... she usually locks herself longer than this."

"Miss Twilight...?"

"Yes, Macintosh?"

There was something in her voice that worried him. Since their visit to Zecora's hut and the almost whole-night-long chore of potion brewing, miss Sparkle had dropped the "Big" part of his nickname. He had been touched by the change as well, realizing so just now. To him, she was now "miss Twilight". His ears perked themselves at that thought. Luckily, she would not notice, or at least sign it off as a mark of his attention.

"Ummm... 's night an' all, but..."

He spread his wings to their fullest. The sun was still hours before dawn, and so far away from Ponyville, he was safe from any stray gaze. She looked at him with a curious face.

"Yes... that may be a problem. You had to rip that bandage apart, didn't you?"

He smiled embarrassed, his cheeks flaming up slightly.

I'm still so stupid sometimes.

"I can't help you too much there, you have to figure something out. I'll have Spike drop by your place with a new set of bandages, but for now... ummm... oh! This can do!" she added quickly, closing her eyes. With a smirk, her horn sparkled. As the glitters intensified into a strong glow, an ethereal aura spread from its tips, splitting in two large clouds of glimmerdust as they settled on his wings. Strangely, they lacked touch. In all ways, they did not exist to his senses.

Where'd they go?

To make sure, Mac flapped his wings. He still felt his muscles, and the air drove to motion at his act. But there was nothing, his usual red hair rested on his sides. No feathers whatsoever. As much as he would like to cherish that moment, he knew well enough of it being but a fleeting illusion.

"I can keep the enchantment on your wings for about an hour and a half, possibly less.I'm sorry Macintosh, I'm tired. The clock is ticking, so I guess we'll see each each other tomorrow", Twilight said as she smiled happily. A single tear of sweat slid down from her forehead. The spell was putting a strain on her.

" 'rite, Miss Twilight. Thank'ye fer all you've done fer me. G'nite."

"Sleep well."

He began his trot back to the Sweet Apple Acres.

Faintly, in the distance behind him, he could swear he had heard the unicorn's voice yelling, weakly, about the fragility of the spell and something about not touching anything.

Or maybe it was just his tired mind.

__________________________________________________________

The early phase of dawn is a curious time.

The sun, barely visible as an aura of red and auburn on the horizon, is slowly creeping up the skyline. The stars are still plainly visible and their patron, the moon, shines even more brightly than it did during the night time. The pony world, still covered in an umbral shade, takes on a curious and mesmerizing plethora of colours. Shadows lengthen, twist and fade and mundane objects return to their usual shapes, the dark haze responsible for their sometimes monstrous appearance fades away. On the other hoof, many nocturnal ponies see this time as an end to their curious hobbies.

Finally, this time of wonders and mystery dissipates back into banal day.

The soil below Macintosh's hooves felt warm, welcome. Unlike the wild and roaring land of Everfree, the way to the Acres was almost awaiting his return. Each step filled him with a sense of nostalgia, yet remembrance. The forest was indeed untamed, but as he had spent time amongst its thick lush, slowly the roars turned into voices, which in turn subdued themselves further into mere whispers. The realization struck him only just now, prompting a familiar thought.

I'm so blind. This place and Everfree, they're the same, all in all. Different, uncivilized, but in their fundaments, they're alike. Heck, Granny probably remembers when this place was just as dangerous as... wasn't Everfree bigger back in the day?

He chuckled to himself slightly. The very road he had trotted back and forth day after day was once nothing more than jungle he had just escaped. He wouldn't put the two and two together for his life were it not for the visit to Zecora's little glade. That place was still brisking with the savage side of nature, yet it was much more quiet. Not completely silenced like Ponyville. Simply muffled.

His heart began pounding heavily against his chest as he looked up. The familiar sight - the wooden fence painted red, the old barn sitting on the hill, his house. Finally Macintosh found himself home. Nonchalantly, he walked through the gates. As if on a cue, a small, dark-brown shape dashed across the field, her white fangs glaring at the "intruder". All that he needed was a simple smile, and the dog immediately stopped scaring the potential apple thief, welcoming her other owner instead.

Winona nuzzled herself between Mac's legs as he continued his slow walk to the Apple household. The two had moved in such a formation for years now, and while the stallion could easily crush the little creature with little thought, both of them had perfected each other's moves to resemble a flowing dance. As he approached the porch, he swung his tail in a peculiar manner left and right, mesmerizing the canine. With a swift tuck to the left, Winona left dashing back to the barn.

When will she ever learn I don't have balls in my tail.

Each plank was a trap to an unwelcome guest, but to Macintosh, each was a familiar step. Not a single creak was given, even as the wood bent slightly under his impressive weight. He nudged the doors open with his muzzle, trying to remain as quiet as he could. Applejack would still have approximately half an hour of sleep, maybe more. Depriving her of that leisure would be a sin to an older brother such as he.

He stealthily moved through the living room, but a flicker caught his eye. As he pushed his head beyond the door frame, he noticed the fireplace was still lit. Somepony was there, rocking back and forth on Granny's favourite chair. Warily, he had spread his now-invisible wings. At best, were he to tackle the intruder, he would have two more limbs of advantage. Still, why would they decide to snooze off on a rocking chair in the middle of a hei—

"..ghm... 's time already? 'tarnations, Ah wanna sleep 'lil bit longer... Applebloom... get ye flank back t'bed..."

Applejack was shuffling herself from one side to another. He immediately tucked his feathers in, approaching the chair from the other angle.

His sister looked dreadful, to say the least. Her tail was tucked underneath her, the band gone somepony knows where. She rarely spread her hair to such extent, apparently ashamed of their colour or texture. Mac found the notion silly. Still, the blonde carpet was wrapped around her right leg as she trashed on the chair. Her mane was, on the other hoof, kept tied, though the binding moved at least halfway up the length. It was ruffled horribly. Her eyes were baggy. Whatever happened, she was sleep deprived and worn. Though upon closer inspection, he noticed that neither her front nor her rear hooves were truly used. They were kept relatively clean. She wasn't working hard in the fields that day.

Her next shift had taken Mac by surprise, as the two poked each other on their muzzles gently. The stallion tucked his head back slightly, shaking and smiling. Applejack did not react at first, yet slowly her eyes began to open.

"...Applebloom? Why'ye suddenly s'big?"

"...'s me, Jacks."

He swore were she to buck trees with the same force he got pounced now, she could very much compete with him in the number of obliterated trunks. Maybe even win. Were it not for his incredible build, he would very possibly be down beneath her on the floor. Instead, the orange mare hung around his neck, essentially doubling the weight of his yoke.

Once again, there was nothing but silence. Awkward, but favourable silence. The kind of hush one basks in. The soft cracking of wood consumed by the homely hearth resounded through the living room.

"Ye didn't sleep 'cuz of me, eeyup?"

"How could Ah sleep with ma brother away in th' Everfree?"

His ears perked up in curiosity.

"How did'ya know?"

"Spike came over 'ere in th' afternoon."

He gave a responsive nod.

"So... how was it?" she asked him, finally letting go and sliding down onto the floor.

"Ah... y'won't sleep fer the rest o' the night?"

"Nnopes."

He sighed heavily, turning around towards the kitchen.

"Ah'll make ye some te—"

"Mac?! Where's ye wings?! Did it work!?"

The stallion, once again, sighed heavily in frustration.

"Settle down 'sis. Yer wakin' the whole house up."

He unfurled his left wing, gently tucking it against the door frame. Applejack's eyes went wide as suddenly, empty space began cracking. Purple light shone from beneath the impossible, glass-like structure apparently hanging in the air. It intensified as the little chips multiplied. Soon, the ethereal marble turned into dust, gilding away into non-existence. Underneath the mystic carapace, Macintosh's wings were still intact, red and glaring to both of the ponies as "normal".

"H--'ow did ya do that?"

"Miss Twilight. Now settle down y'self, Ah'll get ya some tea."

As he walked further into the kitchen, he gave the other frame another nudge from his right wing, repeating the process. He was thankful magics most often made no sound.

__________________________________________________________

Applejack drank the last sip of her apple-scented tea as if she had nothing to drink for the whole day. Her ears were high in the air, her hat lying discarded on the handle of the couch. It was something she didn't do often. Mac knew well enough just how close she was to their fatherly hierloom. His escapade scared the living daylights out of that mare. He felt fitting to apologize in an appropriate brotherly manner.

He pulled his right wing, adjusting it behind his sister's back.

"Ah... Ah can really grow used th' those wing-hugs..."

"Enjoy it while ya can."

"So... did Zecora get ya a cure? When will 't be ready?"

Applejack asked, hope in her voice. Perhaps she didn't really mind the additions to his back, yet he could easily feel she was sorry for him on a different level. He knew it was wrong to tell her the truth, to crush her spirit. Though neither he nor she could tell a lie with a straight face. She'd guess in no time.

"So...?"

He shook his head - "Nnnope, Ah'm sorry sis."

The next thing he felt were her front legs wrapping around his midsection. Mac's eyes opened themselves slightly more from their usual slumber.

"We'll figure somethin' out sugarcube. Y'need t'get to bed. Ye've been out there fer th' whole night."

The very idea was resenting. He breathed out through his nostrils in a subdued manner.

"Ah'm not lettin' ya work th' whole field alone, sis."

"Sure as heck ye are."

"Ah worked 'em all th' last day!"

"And Ah'm not lettin' ye exhaust yerself like tha' anymore!"

Here we go...

When the two would begin a conversation with any combination of these words, such only foresaw conflict. Petty, sibling rivalry, yet still overtaking any other subject almost immediately, rerouteing the discussion into an heated argument for and against any given subject. Macintosh braced himself for Applejack's coming assault of words, already trying to string together a counter-argument.

The mare giggled. "Ye're surely vocal t'day."

"Now, Jacks, how many time d'Ah ha--"

He blinked as she giggled some more. Soon enough, she let him go, twisting out of his feathery grasp. With a precise flick of her tail, she had sent her hat spinning through the air, landing fair and square on her head. Mac still sat on the couch, barely moving as his sister trotted slowly into the kitchen.

"Ah think ya left me some leftover apple pancakes in th'.. ah, there they are! Without ya, there's no need t'cook so early. Applebloom doesn't wake up for the next hour or two, now does she?"

After a sound of rummaging in the kitchen, the earth pony mare came out, a single old and spongy pancake hanging from her mouth.

"Lhisthen nhowh, Mhahch. Yhah ghoh gheth shomhme shleeph whilhe Ah gho plhough th'h fhielhd. Yhah chnah jhoin mheh in 'th ahfthernhoon. Slheeph thight."

Slam.

Mac sat there alone, in the living room. The cozy fireplace was beginning to wane, the red flames already finished consuming their most recent wooden foe. Celestia's sun was beginning to shoot its morning rays through the eastern windows. The crimson colossus had his wings bent in an awkward angle - the left on hanging limp from his side and the right still cradling an object no longer present. His mouth was slightly opened, his eyes blinking occasionally at the empty space before him. Finally, he shook his head, smiling at his defeat.

Clever mare...

__________________________________________________________

Sometimes Applejack was right. He was shamed to admit so most often, but she was indeed correct on so many subjects. Still, the status quo was upheld, as he would too nail her secrets and needs with high frequency. Even if, just like he, she would not admit. His eyes were half closed as a unnaturally wide grin adorned his face. He was almost jumping up and down in his slow steps.

There was something uncanny about this particular night's sleep. Or rather, morning's sleep. On the usual day, he would drop himself into his bed at the normal hour, sleep his mandatory six to seven hours, rise up and cook a, to himself at least, tasty breakfast for everypony in the household. A well accepted and welcome routine. Yet not even after he had spent the entire day mercilessly ploughing through the field would his sleep give him such vim and vigour. Even his wings seemed like the tiniest problem, as if they could be taken away momentarily with a hoof's touch. It wasn't true, so much Mac took for granted, but his almost unnatural cheer would not allow such thoughts to linger for more than a fleeting moment.

As he descended down the stairs, his eyes caught sight of little Applebloom. She did not pay him any mind at all. As usual, her saddlebags bobbed up and down as she dashed to the door, slamming them behind her tail.

"Ah'm out'ta'school see'ye'later big'sis!"

If he was the silent and quiet type, his littlest sister's ramblings would occasionally drive him over the edge. She was late again, without a doubt. Still, she pulled through class after class, year after year. This one would be no exception.

Macintosh's nostrils seized up, opening themselves wide to take in the delicate scent of fresh food. After yesterday, he was famished and his stomach rumbled for nourishment. His senses sharpened by hunger, he could almost taste the delicate crust on the side of the pan. The juicy and tender filling made his mouth water. He was alone, thankfully.

Darn them manners.

His tongue flapped down from his mouth as he almost glided to the kitchen. Appropriately, even his wings unfurled themselves slightly. His tail was waggling from left to right, working as a tiny propeller, pushing him closer to his feast. Finally, he willed his eyes open. It stood before him, his sister's trademark apple pie. It was still fresh from the oven, a subtle immaterial glow of warmth steaming from the top. Mac pulled his tongue back in lest it would leave his salvia all over the counter. Only then had he noticed that the pie was already cut, a small bit of it missing. Below the pan, two sheets of paper were left nestled by some pony.

I took some break from bucking to make my sodding brother this little thing. Enjoy, big bro!

~ Jacks

She even signed it the way he had called her. Such a tease.

Sorry big brother, I was late and hungry. Hope you don't mind!

This note has been left unsigned. Applebloom was in too much of a hurry already, and spending time on a signature Mac could have guessed was a waste. Oh yes, he had taught her well. As much as his ravenousness was grand, he still chuckled silently at his little sister's approach.

I don't mind, silly. I don't.

That was the least important at the time, as Macintosh finally let his inhibition wane. With a simple thrust of his head he had burried his muzzle deep inside the soft pie filling. His wings spread slightly from sheer happiness. Sounds of soft pie crumbs falling on the floor were the only other things heard in the kitchen. Everything else was silenced by his overwhelming feast. Mac ate the pie like a hungry beast, not far from what he was at the time, yet his mouth savoured every bite of its flavour before swallowing. He was down to earth indeed, but sometimes, he gladly enjoyed himself in the little things.

As much he would cherish each moment, his meal lasted less than a minute in total. He had truly almost swallowed the pie in a single go. Satisfied, he licked the crumbs off his muzzle, pushing the plate away with his hoof. Sound of metal clashing against metal signified it landed right in the sink, left alone for future cleaning.

He trotted out of the kitchen, glancing outside through the window. He blinked twice in amazement. Applejack was ploughing the fields for him, so much was granted. She would do so without hesitation were he injured or out of commission. What eluded his mind was the fact she was harnessed with reins much too big for her. And behind her, the old, worn blade of his personal aperture cut the earth. Not thinking too much, Mac slammed the door to the house open, walking straight to his sister with his wings half-spread in disappointment and mild irritation. As much as he would want to deny it, her struggle amused him to an extent.

"Mac, what are ye doin' out---"

"Jacks, get yer flank outta my plough. Yer gonna break yer spine at 's rate!"

" 'tarnations, Ah'm just as strong as ye are!"

Wrong.

He could't retaliate. His mouth was already busy undoing the fastening on his sister's back. He didn't enjoy talking too much, quarrelling much less so, but he would never try to mingle speech with something in his grasp. Applejack continued to throw warnings and other words at his direction, yet he ignored her roused yelling. Finally, her tail smacked him straight between his eyes. Mac took a few step backs, taken aback by such gesture.

"Get back to th' kitchen, Mac!"

"Sis', don't ya ge--"

"What if somepony sees ye like 'tis?!"

His eyes opened themselves ajar. He was such a stupid blockhead at times.

"Common, git!"

It wasn't too long before he found himself before the barn door. A trail of dirt showed the exact track of him being pushed across the ground.

"Ye already took t'great risk comin' all th' way here. Get in an' stay put! Ah'll... Ah'll find ya a way to get ye home."

He didn't even protest too much. He tucked back his wings, and at the same moment they touched his red coat, the similarly coloured doors slammed shut behind him. He could hear Applejack shouting outside.

"An' don' open 'em!"

The inside of the storage was filled to brim with various tools and implements. Rows of haystacks supported the walls of their own volition, and wooden-red pillars stood up holding the ceiling and the upper decks from caving in. In one corner stood a workbench, worn and slightly used. Macintosh, when not using the plough or bucking trees, would spend hours before the grind wheel. With a soft smile, he trotted over to his usual spot.

A few broken tools laid bare in the middle of the table, scavenged from the cart wreck from two days ago. Scanning them with his lazy eye, Mac tried to discern exactly what was their purpose before the entanglement. It took him a few good minutes to deduce that the metal pretzel before him was probably a watering can. Probably. Somepony brought it back here for a reason, and perhaps he could hammer it out with sufficient time.

And of that he had a surplus.

__________________________________________________________

Sweat dripped from his forehead while his tongue stuck out from the side of his mouth. All that exhaustion, improbably, caused by stress than actual labour. Mac was very near to muttering curses. The object between his hooves eluded his hammer more than a dozen times in the last hour. He had forsaken the tool a few minutes ago, opting to use his raw strength and just bend it correctly with his legs. Such would allow for better precision. He made progress that way indeed. Just one more stretch to the side and...

His right wing poked on the wooden pillar.

Sprang, the metal tore.

By Celestia's royal applebucking...

"...mane, yer the darnest, stupidest piece o'crud Ah've ever seen!"

With a final and definite slam, the only thing that remained of the poorly fixed watering can was a single, neatly compressed plate, the vague outline of his hoof embedded neatly in the centre.

Mac settled down, taking a deep breath out and letting a snore though his nostrils. His short-cut tail swished left and right as his wing folded back to his side. He slid his hoof across the workbench, sending the object flying into the nearby trash bit. He'd have to pick it up and dispose of the waste... or perhaps visit Caramel and ask for repairs. That pony was much better with metalwork than he was himself. To do that, he would have to leave the barn first, but doing so bare as he was was equivalent to a social suicide.

As he was starting to search the immediate area for the second tool today, the doors to the barn began to slowly creak open. Instinctively, Mac spread his wings in a defensive position, taken aback. Quickly though, his mind caught up to the act and began to bring them down. The little conflict confused Macintosh as the stallion began flapping the feathers up and down, unable to come to a definite decision.

"Hey, Big Mac. Applejack said you'd be here...?"

The scrawny little voice proceeded the dragon's appearance.

For a little while, the two stared intently at each other. Mac's gaze was soon broken, trying to get a hold of his silly shenanigans. Spike's lingered for a little longer before the drake began, badly, concealing a honest chuckle. It soon turned into a laughing fit, ended only by the stallion's prod to his side.

The little creature rose from the ground, wiping away warm tears from his face. He smiled at the pony before himself, but Macintosh only replied with a stern face, his eyes half-closed as usual.

"So, Twilight's been asking how are you doing today?"

No response came from red behemoth, only a simple nod.

"Well... I am here with a little something-something! Sewn it myself!" he said before pulling back behind the door, dragging a rather large bag placed right in the centre of a bright-crimson cart.

Quickly, he scurried over to it and unfastened the belt, drawing forth a large cloak. It was rather plain, and the little details were crude and childish - a single yellow thread lined the outer edges. As the dragon was unfolding the whole thing before Mac, the stallion noticed it also had a hood added. That, and the fact the entire piece of clothing could cover him almost twice over.

"Y'know how t'sew?"

Spike's response was only an energetic nod.

"Mmhm! Twilight is awful when she tears the curtains with her magical fallout, so I've learned how to stitch them back together! Oh... and Rarity loves men who can sew."

If he would give the little thing his wings, the drake could easily fly away into the stratosphere.

"Ah'm... thank ye lots, Spike."

"Don't mention it! Wanna try it on?"

Big Macintosh looked to his left and right, seemingly searching for onlookers. His mind had then reminded him they were in a barn. He nodded.

It wasn't long before the library assistant leaped higher than those little legs could manage. The cloak trailed behind him in the air. Mac felt paws land on his back, his view obstructed by the fabric for a little while.

"Hang on, I'll have to get it through the yoke..."

The soft material (surprisingly so, in fact) whizzed against his ears. It felt ticklish at best, and the pony allowed himself to giggle slightly. His ears were a soft spot. The resulting spasm forced him to waggle his wings, causing a call of distress from the dragon on his back. Seconds later, the creature leapt down, clapping his scaly hands as a sign of a job well done.

"So, how do you like it?"

"Uhh... Ah'll need a mirror..."

The two looked at each other dumbstruck, one more than the other.

Don't let him push the subject, don't let him push the subject...

"So... umm... where'd ya get that fabric?"

Spike beamed him a smile.

"You see, Rarity had a resupply from Canterlot last week and she worked tirelessly for a new line of clothing! And then the whole incident with... umm... you and Cheerilee happened. So some rolls of the said fabric got torn and rugged, and she simply discarded them! While they were too bad for her dresses, I was one of the few ponies she was willing to donate for!"

...he's really into this thing, isn't he?

"Eh..."

Mac pulled his right wing up, rising the edge of his cloak. He inspected the yellow lining slightly, turning his head to the dragon.

"...that's... really nice an' all... how'd ya do it?"

"Oh? Oh, I'm very proud of this detail, you see? Actually, the idea got into my head roughly halfway through! You see, I remembered when you told me about all the stars in the night sky, so I decided that maybe you should have something starry... teehee... on your back. Well, I tried sewing Orion on your back but I... I can't really see how the dots, I mean stars, connect to each other. So I went for a white thin stripe down the entire length of it, but guess this - Twilight didn't have any white thread in the entire treebrary!"

Did he really just make that pun?

The excited dialogue went from there. Mac found an opportunity in such, and began walking to the door. Spike followed him like a child, asking for recognition from its mother or father. Now that he thought about it, the situation wasn't too far-fetched indeed. As he took step after step, he felt the cloth align itself with his wings, his haunch and his flank. As simple and crude was the cloak, it was comfortable. He didn't value aesthetics, and even the childish detail the monologue had solely focused on amused him to an extent.

I still can't believe he did this for me... You don't hand out gifts like that to strangers.

The warm sun was already high in the sky. Judging by its position, it was about noon, or not long after it. The day was still long before due. The idea of spending it idly terrified him - he wasn't sick, per se. He considered himself of fine health, almost more than usual. His two not-so-little additions were not impeding him overly so. He had valid reasons, and all of them were logical and sound.

Like Jacks will ever understand...

As he loitered around dressed as he was, Spike's banter never ceased in both volume and rapidity. Occasionally, Mac threw the dragon another log to the fire, in form of "How are you managing your claws?" or "Think you could perhaps knit an apron?". Still, search as hard as he could, the stallion couldn't find himself anything worthy of his time. Somehow, his sister had managed to fertilize and plough the field alone. Trees were bucked and clean, and only a few menial tasks remained. She had already shooed him away from them before, and his wings really did not promise a good time hurting against the yoke. He gave away a silent whinny, furious at how delicate those two new appendages were.

His ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Thanks fer helpin' me with th' trees, Fluttershy!"

He turned around, noticing his sibling standing right next to a familiar, winged mare. She carried a basket on her half-bent leg, filled with simple, mundane groceries. Why would she visit the farm, though? They didn't sell apples directly from their acres unless it was a large order, around a few hundreds or more. The pegasus was clearly not here for business.

"Oh, please... I mean... I just asked the squirrels... and Tippy-Toe was very eager to help!"

"Ah couldn't have done it without ya!"

The other pony giggled slightly.

"Umm... well, I'm here for more than just... talk, Applejack. You see, I've been at the market and I've ran into Chance-A-Lot..."

"What'd the lookalike of mah brother want, eh?"

"...he asked me if I would... well... I would in fact. He asked me to tell you that Granny Smith finished all her chores and since... well, they lack half of their house now... umm... she's coming back."

A loud thud announced Mac's sudden arrival, feathers half-spread as he just landed from another impossibly long leap. Spike was busy skipping over to his suddenly-missing one-pony audience. Fluttershy yelped, hiding behind Applejack for the first second before finally realizing just who had appeared. The earth pony mare had a different reaction.

"Th' hay are ye doin?!"

"Granny's comin' back?!"

"Gash darn it Mac! Hide those!"

"Umm... hello Big Macintosh."

"Mac, tuck 'em back down... where'd y'get that?!"

"huff... huff... oh... hello there Fluttershy!"

"Good afternoon, Spike."

"Jacks, cut it out!"

"How are the rabbits?"

"Eeenope! Ye sto... ouch, stop pullin' mah.. argh!"
"Oh! Oh, Applejack please!"
"What's going on there?"
"Jacks, yer pullin' gghg!"
"Hey, I'm not sure wings should bend th—"
"Applejack! You're hurting him."
"Stop it S— Celestia darn'—"
"Hey! Hey he's wincin—"

"Everypony, QUIET!!"

Fluttershy immediately stalled her wings, landing and dropping her basket. Spike, seemingly taught by experience, lounged to catch it just before it could tumble and scatter all of the groceries over the dirt. Applejack stood in the middle, her front hooves still held up. Mac was much farther, leaping back with a strong gale away from the incredible pain inflicted, by mistake no doubt, by his very sister.

...they're really delicate...

"One. At. A time."

Strangely, the meek pegasus was first to take action, stepping forward with a worried and stern look on her face.

"Umm... Applejack. You're my closest friend, but I'm afraid... I'm afraid I have to be frank with you! You never really dealt with a pegasus before... so... so I guess you couldn't know but... but our wings can't bend that way! They're very sturdy and resistant, but you can easily snap the bones apart if you pull them in such manner! You could've injured your own brother, severely in fact! Please, next time be more careful!"

She stopped, catching herself.

"If... if you could remember my advice, of course..."

The earth pony gave a nod, looking at Spike.

He simply rose a single thumbs up. Fingers were a foreign concept to all the gathered, but the two Elements had spent enough time near the dragon to know that he meant he was fine and she could move on.

"...and ye?"

"Granny's comin' back."

"...and?"

"Granny's comin' back, Jacks."

He spread them one last time before hiding them underneath the cloak. It really fit well.

"...stop talkin' out of ye fl— oh haystacks."

"Eeeyup."

Comments

[SergeantShenanigans]

This chapter was good, I really don't have much else to say besides I look forward to the next chapter.

[totallynotabrony]

Maybe I missed something, it's been a while since I've read through this story. Who's Posey?

Edit: I am so sorry. I didn't expect FIMFiction to start their April Fool's day pranks a day early.

[Northwest Brony]

I don't remember who Posey is either.

Stupid cliffies! They just leave me hanging with a shred of knowlege that supposedly there's a bit of pony racism about, and that Granny may have the brunt of it.

[exewon]

This really is a great story. Intresting idea and great writing :) keep it up. Just don't let a yar go by till the next chapter (if I am readin gthe dates correct.)

[totallynotabrony]

MMMMOOOOOAAAAARRRRRR

Please.

[Smirkythread]

I know this has been on hiatus forever but it is quite good, solid writing combined with a plot line that's engaging somehow without any grand problems. If you're ever thinking of dusting this off and giving it a whirl I would be most happy.

Though there is one issue that I feel should have been addressed, Pinkie. Just because she does all sort of crazy antics all the time does not mean she can get away with stuff like this. Big Mac could have easily died from drinking that, though the fact that the wings saved Apple Bloom does cut her a little slack.

Fine work.