• Published 9th Aug 2014
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Forgotten in Manehattan - Locomotion



A minor accident at Sweet Apple Acres prompts Caramel to look back upon his somewhat chequered past, and how a twist of fate led him back to his long lost foalhood friend - and how a simple friendship gradually evolved into so much more...

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Chapter 7: Sweet Apple Salvation

The wind was still blowing fiercely across Ponyville as Applejack made her way back towards Sweet Apple Acres. She had been visiting a friend of hers on the other side of town to discuss this year's Winter Wrap-Up operations, but the weather outside had been so fierce that she had been forced to stay a little longer until it had subsided. Luckily, after nearly two hours, the heavy snowfall had temporarily receded, allowing the orange-furred farm pony a window of opportunity to hurry home before another deluge of snow came pouring down.

At long last, she spotted the farmhouse up ahead. Not too long now before she could relax in front of a good warm fire in the living room, she thought – but just as she approached the farm gate, she noticed an unusually smallish mound of snow immediately next to it.

“What in tarnation...?” wondered Applejack, staring in confusion as she moseyed up to the mound. True, the snow had been unusually heavy over the last two hours, but surely there was no way it could create such a small heap with only the wind to assist it – no, there had to be something buried underneath it...or somepony......but then, who in the right mind would allow themselves to be snowed under like this?

Regardless, the orange-coated mare carefully brushed some of the snow away from the mound – but as she did so, her hoof came into contact with something cold and furry beneath. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she began to dig away at the snow with somewhat frantic vigour, until at last she had uncovered the unfortunate creature lying within that cold, icy tomb. It was a pony alright – a tan-coated, brown-maned Earth stallion, with a Cutie Mark of three blue horseshoes on each flank and a pair of saddlebags draped over his back. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, and his snow-covered fur felt colder than an iceberg.

“Land sakes!” gasped Applejack in horror. “Ah gotta get this guy undercover quick!” Immediately, but very carefully, she draped the unconscious stallion across her back and raced back to the farmhouse as fast as she dared, imploring all the while for her passenger to hang on...


Granny Smith furrowed her brow with concern as she gazed up at the clock for what seemed like the billionth time. It was almost quarter past three, and Applejack should have arrived home just under two and a half hours ago – but no matter how many times she and her grandchildren peered out of the window across the snow-coated fields, they still couldn't make out so much as a single trace of the orange-coated mare.

The elderly green mare frowned, shaking her head. “Ah don't la'k this,” she muttered grimly. “It's not la'k Applejack to be this late gettin' back, 'specially with all them snowstorms comin' our way.”

“Nope,” agreed Big Macintosh absent-mindedly, staring out of the window again with a look of concern plastered onto his face.

Little Apple Bloom was equally worried, but tried to lighten the mood nonetheless. “She could just be out helpin' somepony clear the snow off of their front garden or something,” she suggested helpfully.

“Hmm...probably,” mused Granny Smith, unconvinced. “Still, Ah'll be glad when she does get back; fo' all we know, she could'a been caught in that there blizzard.”

“What, Applejack?” retorted Apple Bloom disbelievingly. “Ah fin' that highly...” but at that very moment, she was distracted by a flash of two-tone orange against the white backdrop on the other side of the window. Puzzled, the yellow-furred filly squinted to try and get a closer look, and was bewildered to see her older sister cantering towards the farmhouse with a tan-coated, snow-festooned young stallion draped limply across her back and an expression of worry on her face.

Big Macintosh had noticed them too, and from the look of the stallion whom Applejack was carrying, he could tell that something wasn't right. Without a single word to his youngest sister or his grandmother, he tore himself away from the window and dashed out of the house to find out what was going on, calling out her name as he came close.

By now, Applejack was growing rather breathless from having to run and carry another pony at the same time, so she was relieved when she saw her red-furred older brother approaching. “Boy...am Ah glad...y'all...turned up...,” she remarked, panting heavily from the effort.

“What happened, A.J.?” asked Big Macintosh. “Where'd ya fin' this guy?”

“Unconscious...outside...farm gate – gotta get 'im...indoors...before he...freezes to death,” replied Applejack urgently.

Big Macintosh acknowledged with a succinct nod, accompanied by a grave “Eeyup”, and carefully manoeuvred the almost lifeless stallion onto his own back before galloping back towards the farmhouse with his sister close behind. As soon as they had re-entered the house, the two Apple family siblings immediately made for Applejack's bedroom, ignoring the looks of confusion on Apple Bloom and Granny Smith's faces as they passed them.

“Applejack?” exclaimed Granny Smith. “What the hay's goin' on?”

“No time to explain!” barked Applejack from the top of the staircase. “Hot water bottles – extra blankets – mah room – stat!”

“But Applejack,” began Apple Bloom, “where did...”

“JUST DO IT!!!” The tone of urgency in Applejack's voice left precious little room for argument. In an instant, Granny Smith was at the stove heating up as many kettles and saucepans as she could fit onto the hobs, and Apple Bloom was rummaging through the closet in search of the thickest blankets she could find.

Having reached Applejack's room, Big Macintosh, with his sister's help, gently slipped the unconscious stallion off his back and lowered him onto her bed. Then, while Applejack tucked the stallion underneath the covers, the red-coated draft pony carefully checked his vital signs.

“Eeyup – just as Ah thought,” he mused at last.

“What is it, big brother? Is he okay?”

“Seems this guy's gone down with pretty severe hypothermia.” replied Big Macintosh gravely. “He's still alive, but only just.”

Applejack placed a hoof against the unnamed stallion's forehead, only to recoil in discomfort when she felt how cold it was. “Shucks, yo' right there, Mac – poor guy feels colder than the Crystal Mountains do round this time o' year. We better get a doctor.”

“Ah'm on it, sis,” and Big Macintosh trotted quickly out of the room, just as Apple Bloom and Granny Smith entered with the blankets and the hot water bottles.

Granny Smith examined the new arrival closely. “Don't remember seein' this young fella 'round these parts,” she commented. “Any idea where he came from, Applejack?”

The orange-coated farm pony shook her head gravely. “None at all, Granny,” she admitted. “Ah don' even know if he's gonna live - all Ah know is that Ah found 'im under a pile of snow near the farm entrance.”

“What was he doin' there?” inquired Apple Bloom, perplexed.

“Dunno,” mused Applejack, “but he wasn't wearin' much mo' than a hat an' scarf when Ah found him. Probably passed out from the cold.”

Granny Smith's eyes widened with shock; “Great feathers on the goat! No wonder y'all were in such a rush when y'all arrived back here!” She placed a hoof against the stallion's fetlock, and was taken even further aback when she felt a weak pulse from beneath his snow-chilled skin. “Ah tell ya what, though, he's lucky ta still be alive.”

Applejack nodded in solemn agreement as she pulled another blanket over the unfortunate stallion.

“Is there anythin' else we can do fo' this guy?” asked Apple Bloom anxiously.

“Not until Big Mac comes back with that doctor,” replied Applejack. “Y'all best get back to whatever it was y'all were doin' earlier; Ah'll keep an eye on this guy an' make sure he's okay.”

“Well...okay, Applejack; but give us a shout if anythin' goes wrong,” advised Granny Smith; and with that, she and Apple Bloom headed back downstairs, leaving Applejack to look after the unknown stallion alone.

As the latch of her bedroom door gently clicked back into place, the orange-furred farm pony couldn't help but gaze upon her impromptu patient with a somewhat puzzled expression of worry as numerous questions echoed persistently in her head. Who was this stallion she had just rescued? Why wasn't he properly protected against the cold, fearsome winds or the icy, razor-sharp snowflakes? Why were there two saddlebags on his back? Where had he come from?

He certainly didn't look like anypony she knew from Ponyville or the surrounding area, that much was obvious to Applejack; indeed, it would probably go a long way towards explaining the saddlebags and the lack of winter cladding too. So how was it, she kept asking herself, that this mysterious stallion seemed so hauntingly familiar to her? Why did his appearance alone seem to remind her of somepony from her foalhood?

She looked over to the saddlebags, which Big Macintosh had laid out to dry next to her chest of drawers. Maybe their contents might give her a lead regarding his identity, she thought; but on the other hoof, the idea of rummaging through his personal belongings without him knowing seemed a little too nosy and dishonest, and representing as she did the Element of Honesty, she didn't much like the notion of having to pretend not to know about some embarrassing secret of his that she might inevitably stumble upon either. In the end, however, curiosity got the better of Applejack.

“Sorry about this, partner,” she whispered ruefully, and crept furtively over to the saddlebags, trying her best not to disturb him.

It turned out that the larger of the two saddlebags contained little more than blankets and a pillow, all of which were now soaking wet from the melted snow. Making a mental note to give them a proper wash when the stallion came to, Applejack closed it up again and turned her attention to the other saddlebag – but the moment she opened it, she was startled to find that, among other items, it contained a photograph depicting an exact likeness of her when she had been but a mere filly of nine years old.

“Huh?!” she exclaimed, staring in confusion. “What the hay am Ah doin' in somepony else's photo?”

But as she scrutinised the photograph, she noticed something highly significant; it showed her in that rather exaggerated hairstyle which she had worn while attending dinner parties and other social engagements with her Aunt and Uncle Orange. Plainly, then, it had been taken during her stay in Manehattan – but while it answered the question about where the stallion had come from, many others had started to come up in its place. If he was from such a cosmopolitan area, then what was he doing in such a rural setting as Ponyville? Where had he got that photograph from? Why did he even have it in the first place?

But no sooner had that last query gone through her head than she noticed that she wasn't the only one in the picture. Right next to her, smiling fondly with one hoof wrapped around her shoulders, was a smart, handsome young colt whose finely brushed brown mane and tan coat seemed to match the description of the stallion she had found. Only then did she realise... “Caramel?” she gasped, staring at the stallion in disbelief.

No, that couldn't possibly be true, she thought – surely this had to be some crazy dream. Yet here, lying unconscious on her bed, was a stallion who looked so uncannily similar to her foalhood friend from Manehattan that she could very nearly have been gazing upon his eight-year-old form. Slowly, she placed the photograph back into its saddlebag and quietly returned to the side of her bed, gazing upon him in dismay.

“Oh, Caramel,” she murmured unhappily, “why did ya have ta do this to yourself?”


It wasn't long before Big Macintosh returned with the doctor. He had already outlined what he thought was wrong with the stallion and where Applejack had found him as they made their way through the snow towards Sweet Apple Acres, and as soon as they arrived, the doctor wasted no time in examining his unconscious patient.

To say Applejack was no longer anxious by this time would be wholly untrue – she didn't know how long Caramel had been out, but it must have been a horrifically long time if he had let himself be buried underneath all that snow, so for all she knew, he probably didn't have much longer to go. All the same, she could do little more than stand by and watch as the doctor carefully probed his chest with a stethoscope, biting her hoof and hoping to goodness that her foalhood friend would be alright.

At last, the doctor withdrew his stethoscope and turned to face the two Earth pony siblings. “Seems you were right all along, Big Macintosh,” he remarked. “It's hypothermia alright – and pretty severe too, I might add; too much longer out there, and this stallion wouldn't have stood a chance of survival.”

Applejack looked away in discomfort. This wasn't something she wanted to think about.

“Will he be okay, doc?” asked Big Macintosh hopefully.

“He'll be out for about...twenty-four hours at least, but he should survive,” replied the doctor with a small smile. “Just make sure to keep him warm and dry and get plenty of fluids into him when he comes to.”

Applejack, deeply thankful that Caramel would still pull through despite his frosty predicament, heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“Will do, doc,” said Big Macintosh. “Thanks fo' comin' at such short notice.”

The doctor smiled again; “No problem, Big Mac – better safe than sorry, I always say. Anything else you need to talk to me about, then?”

“Nope.”

“Right, well in that case, I guess I'll take my leave,” said the doctor, returning the stethoscope to his bag. Big Macintosh simply nodded in reply as he led him to the front door, leaving his orange-furred sister alone with her thoughts once again – but only for a little while. Shortly after the doctor had left, the red-coated draft stallion returned to Applejack's room to see how she was doing.

Applejack barely seemed to notice Big Macintosh as he re-entered. She was back by Caramel's side, an anxious, longing and somewhat uneasy look on her face – sure, she was glad that Caramel would almost certainly survive the night, but countless other emotions seemed to be stirring up inside her, none of which she could place her hoof on. It had been over eleven years since the two ponies had last seen each other, so naturally, part of her wanted so badly to ask what he had been doing with his life and why he was here of all places; but on the other hoof, what if he didn't recognise her? What if the slightest hint of a past friendship might freak him out so much that he would land himself in the same life-threatening situation as he had done just a few hours ago? What if...what if he didn't survive this time? Even her own conscience seemed undecided as to whether to risk all and tell him, or to betray her element and make out like they had never known each other in the first place.

Naturally, Big Macintosh was equally concerned when he noticed the expression on his sister's face and realised the emotional turmoil she seemed to be going through; but what he couldn't understand was what seemed to be bothering her and why. Could it have something to do with the unknown stallion, he wondered? Or was it something else that happened to have sprung to mind while the doctor had been diagnosing him?

“Somethin' on yo' mind, A.J.?” he asked softly.

The orange-furred mare was so distracted that she didn't even bother to look at him. “Ah'm fine, thanks, big brother,” she muttered absent-mindedly. “Don't y'all worry none.”

But Big Macintosh did worry. He had never known Applejack to be so distracted before. All the same, he wisely decided against challenging her about it; if she wanted to talk about...whatever it was that seemed to be bugging her, he decided, then that was her choice alone.

“Well......if ya say so,” he replied uncertainly, trying his best to sound casual. “Anyway, Ah'd best go cut some mo' firewood out in the backyard; we're gonna need it with this weather.”

“Yeah, you go ahead, Mac,” mumbled Applejack, who wasn't really listening. With a slight shrug, Big Macintosh resignedly turned and left the room, still wondering why his sister was acting so out of character...