A Case of Mistaken Identity
Chapter 22: A Case of Mistaken Identity
A bead of condensation formed on the smooth glass surface of a bottle of clear amber colored liquid. This bead, like so many around it, gathered up, no, gobbled up smaller droplets around it. Growing in diameter and mass, it soon began its journey down the side of the bottle.
As it did so, it would encounter other such beads of water, and they too would combine with that bead, ever hastening its travels down the curves of the sealed glass container, until it came to the bottom, where upon which, by some luck, or perhaps fate, or even just pure design of everything, it found itself just so positioned above a gaping abyss, between two wooden planks that made up the bottom of the crate that house eight more of the bottle’s siblings.
There, just like with the start of its journey from the top of the bottle, it would develop with moisture. Bulging, drooping, and practically quivering in a barely detectable breeze before the inescapable variables that made up its reality brought it to its undeniable fate.
Falling, falling, falling, like so many droplets that came before. It now joined its siblings in a puddle below that cart before being absorbed into the soil. Lost.
A similar bead of lather formed on the orange brow of Applejack as she stared anxiously off in the distance.
Wiping the sweat away and flicking it off her hoof, she removed her hat before using it to fan herself.
‘Sure is swelterin’ taday,’ She thought to herself, before fanning herself a few more times and placing the stetson back atop her head. “Gosh darnit, where are they? Shoulda’ been here...” She squinted to look at the Ponyville town clock. “Now that can’t be right? Thirty-minutes ago? Fluttershy shoulda’ sent one of her animal friends ta tell me if they was runnin’ late!”
She paused and let out an exhausted sigh.
‘Then again, H.B. is insistent that the animals hate her. An’ they just very well may be with how Fluttershy described what happened the other day...’
Applejack’s gaze shifted from the long stretch of dusty dirt road that led into town and to that crate of icy cold bottles of freshly squeezed tangy apple juice...
“Ah’m sure H.B. wouldn’t mind. Ah mean, she hasn’t bought it yet...” She reassured herself before licking her dry lips. ‘An’ it’s not like Ah can’t just go an’ get another.’ she thought, her hoof edging closer and closer to a bottle cap. ‘Besides, they’d understand, after all, Ah’m thirsty an’ been workin’ hard an-’
“Applejack?” came a deep, slow, and concerned sounding voice from seemingly nowhere.
“Gah!” The designated mare yelped, her hoof striking the crate, causing the glass bottles to clatter loudly against one another. "Ah wan’t doin’ anythin’ wrong!” She stammered while quickly holding the crate in place so that the bottles would cease their clatter-chatter. “O-oh, Big Mac, it’s just you.”
“Eeeeyup,” Big Mac chuckled.
“Ah suppose ya came out here ta check up on me?”
“Eeeyup.”
Applejack stared off into the distance once more and there was a quiet that grew between the siblings. A quiet that sprouted out of a mutual understanding, a bond born from a deeply seeded grief.
“Ah-ah’m not out here ‘cause of ... that,” Applejack said to this... wordless conversation. “Ya know that, right?”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac said after a plaintive sigh.
“It’s just...” Applejack tapped her left front hoof into the ground eight or nine times blithely. “Ah asked Fluttershy ta bring H.B. here fer, uhm, ta sell her this here apple juice, an it just so happens ta have fallen on... taday...” She said, swallowing for both her parchedness and the lump that was forming in the back of her throat. “They just outta have been here by now is all...”
Big Mac sighed, “A.J... You don’t need ta expla-”
As Applejack looked over at her brother, his words seemed to fade and sounded muffled; distant. She rubbed her ears before another voice, almost clear as a bell trickled into her hearing...
“They just oughta have been here by now,” the young voice echoed, concern dripping like condensation off a bottle in every word.
Turning her head, there in the shimmer of the head, she saw a little orange filly with a corn silk yellow mane, her freckled cheeks were getting dewy from the tears that were falling from her large, sad, wide green eyes.
“That’s... that’s me?” Applejack asked herself disorientedly.
“They said they’d be here!” The little Applejack cried. “Why ain’t they here yet?!” She stomped the ground fretfully.
“Ah...” But before Applejack could gather her bearings about things the same little voice asked another question.
“What’cha mean that’s all ya found?!” The younger version of Applejack asked an unseen pony.
“Oh no...” Applejack whispered. After all, she remembered what was coming.
“No!” The little filly erupted. “Yer lyin’! Be quiet! NO! Ah-AH HATE YOU! AH HATE YOU!” they shouted them before turning and running away in the opposite direction- fading from existence, unraveling square by square, like the picture in one of Granny Smith’s cross stitches when a small but important thread had been pulled out by mistake.
“Everythin’s comin’ undone...” She muttered to herself as a dim, distant voice seemed to be calling her name.
“A.J... A.J.? Applejack!” Big Macintosh shouted.
“Huh?!”
“Were ya even listening ta anythin’ ah had said?!” He snorted angrily.
“Uh-heh, well-ee ya-” She faltered, before seeing her brothers’ concerned scowl staring right through her soul. “Ah-ah mean... nope...” Applejack finally admitted.
Big Mac Looked over his younger sister. “Ah was pour’ ma heart out ta ya, an’ you’re off Luna knows where cause ya didn’t think ta-” He stopped mid sentence , his words being replaced with an angry huffing sound before he walked to his sister’s side.
“Hey, Ah’m sorry, Ah know Ah shoulda brought-”
Just then, Big Mac nosed right under Applejack’s mid-section, and in one quick, powerful motion, he lifted her up and onto his back crosswise!
“Hey now! What in tarnation do ya think yer doin’?!” Applejack shouted once she got her bearing about her. Big Mac said nothing and turned back to trot down the road upon which he had come.
“Now hold up! Ya think ya can just pick me up an’ carry me back ta the farmhouse, just cause Ah had one spell on a count that ah most likely just need ta sit an have a drink!?” Applejack protested while attempting to squirm her way to freedom.
“Eee-” Big Mack started, bucking a little, causing his sister to once more straddle across his back, thwarting her escape. “-Yup!”
“An ya just expect me ta leave those crates of apple juice just sittin’ in that there wagon, out in the open, just fer anypony ta pick up?” She huffed.
Big Mac Paused momentarily and eyed the glistening bottles that were now, well, off in the distance. He shook his head and then continued forward. “Eeeyup.”
Applejack tried, feebly, once more to fight the position her brother had placed her in, only to feel the exhaustion of the day’s head and the chores of the morning really starting to hit her. “Ah suppose that yer just lookin’ out fer ma well bein’ an that there them bottles will be fine seein’ as they’re in an icewood crate...” she said defeatedly.
“Eeeeyup.”
“Sorry ta have worried ya,” Applejack said. “The two of us are both a pair of stubborn cusses, ain’t we?”
“Eeeyup.”
Applejack stared off into the distance at the apple orchard. “Guess we got that from them, eh?”
Big Mac paused once more.
He woulda thought that every year would have been different.That, somehow, in some way, time would have softened the blow.
But every year, despite knowing that this day was coming, with it came that old familiar ache.
And that, despite her promises of not waiting out here, that he’d feel his big heart break once he did find her out in that very spot: watching and waiting, while he was left commiserating.
“Eeee-yup...” He croaked out before continuing to walk.
“Oh,” Applejack, said after a while. “Don’t ya ever dare do this again. Ah’m not some little filly ya can toss around any more. Ah’m a full grown mare now, ya hear?”
Somehow, hearing that little fact caused the big red stallion’s heart to crumble just that much more.
After all, despite there being only a few years difference between them, it reminded Big Mac of how old he was getting and how much time had passed since that fateful day.
“Ee-eeyup...” He managed to get out before the two of them had reached the farmhouse once more.
=========
The old green mare with the frazzled white mane glared in frustration at the pipes beneath the sink in her increasingly humid kitchen.
“Of all the gosh dern, frickle-frackle things..” She muttered narrowing, her light brilliant orange old eyes at the leaking patchwork repair job. Just then, the sink burbled and gurgled sickly at her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard ya the first. Ma hearin’ ain’t gone yet, so simmer down, why don’t ya?” She huffed and pulled back in disgust as the drain bubbled up once more, spewing forth old sink water along with the odor of fruit rot. “Ugh, that t’ain’t right..” she muttered, turning around and heading to the cupboards. She tapped her thick glasses down for a moment to make sure that she was getting the right ingredients this time. “Thankfully fer you, Ol’ Granny’s got somethin’ that’ll fix yer pipes...” She reached for a jug of pale amber liquid followed by an orange box. “It’ll fix them somethin’ fierce!”
She then proceeded to pour the white powder from the box into the sink before mixing in some fancy liquid soap. She followed this up with a gentle pouring of water from the facet to make sure most of the concoction got into the drain.
"An' finally, the thing that cures any and all ills..." she popped the stopper off the jug before pouring several healthy glugs of the sour smelling liquid directly into the circular void and quickly jamming her hoof over the cover to trap the near instantaneous fizzing reaction.
She tightly shut her eyes and strained to keep that hoof of hers tightly down. Once she was sure that the fireworks were over, she cautiously opened one eye and slowly pulled her light green hoof away.
There was a burble, then a gurgle, and then a slow sputtery draining that sounded like Uncle Smokehouse sucking in air after taking a bite of a pacific rose apple.
"Humph! Of all the gosh dern hassen-frassen..." she cursed under her breath.
Just then, the front screen door creaked open, and the heavy hoof steps of her grand colt, Big Macintosh, came in.
"Oh! Yer back!" Granny Smith piped, her wizened dour expression switching to relief. "Did ya find yer sister?"
"Eeeyup." He replied with a bit of an exasperated sigh before turning to his right so that said pony was almost face to face with her grandmare.
Granny Smith narrowed her eyes to bring whom it was into sharper focus. "Applejack, what are ya doin' up there? Get off yer brother, we don't need the neigh-bors givin' ya two funny looks now..."
"Grannny..." Applejack bemoaned sliding off her brother's back and landing wobbly to the nice, cool floor. "Whew, Ah mention that it's a scorcher out taday? Ah need sumthin' ta drink."
Granny Smith frowned at her granddaughter. She had always been a stubborn one. It was both her greatest strength and biggest weakness. "What were doin out there fer so long without a whistle wetter anyway?"
The ice box's door closed and with it the clinking of glass bottles. Big Mac cleared his throat and eyed the calendar hanging on the front of the wood decorated chiller as he undid the cap for his sister.
"Huh?" Granny Smith asked, squinting at the letters and dates. Then her face crumpled as she saw the red circle on one of the squares. A red circle well known amongst the trio gathered that there wasn’t a need for words to know the meaning of its occasion.
"Thanks mightily there, Big Mac," Applejack said, taking the thirst quenching golden beverage offered to her before taking several long, satisfying swings.
“Has it already been another...” Granny Smith paused not wanting to say the word. “Ah mean, it’s that time already?”
“Ah, fer fet’s sake,” Applejack swore in her post refreshment gasp.
“Eeeeeyup...” Big Mac said somberly.
“Like ah told him,” Applejack protested, coughing a little to clear her throat. “Ah wan’t out there waitin’ on them. Ah was waitin’ on Fluttershy an’ H.B.!”
“H.B.?” Granny Smith asked, her eye turning back to the sink as it made a defiant gurgling spatter!
“Her name’s Heartbreak, but she insist on bein’ called ‘H.B.” Applejack explained holding the bottle of cold, dry cider to her forehead. “She was here a couple months back? Remember?”
“Uhm...” The Elder green mare rubbed her chin trying to clear the cobwebs from the attic. “Heartbreak... Heartbreak... Heartbreak...” She muttered. “Nope. Can’t say AH recall that...” Then something clicked in her noggin. “Though, Ah do recall hearing yer Auntie Orange told me in a letter when them side of the family was off visiting The Wealthy Apples- your great-second cousins twice removed in Whinneapolis last moon somethin’ about somepony causin’ a scene at another pony’s high falutin’ get together or what have ya...”
Just then, the sink started to chorgle and wheeze desperately.
"Huhmph," Granny Smith grumbled. "Big Mac, can ya do yer granny a favor an' go fetch the toolbox from that there shed out back, the one with the Old Buck? Looks like we're gonna need ta take these pipes apart..."
"Eeeyup." Big Mac replied trotting off.
"That sounds like an event that Rarity took H.B. ta last month, an from what Ah heard, " Applejack paused to take the final few swigs of her cider. "H.B. did cause quite the ruckus. Put somepony named... um... Mani- Mani-..."
"Manifest Destiny?" Granny Smith asked opening the cupboard under the sink.
"Yeah! Manifest Destiny! That's the one," she looked up at the bottle and held it up over head before lolling her tongue out to get that list deep of apple cider goodness. "How'd ya know him?" Applejack asked, tilting her head curiously.
"Ah met his father, Granite Carver, when up there ta hammer out some details with Wealthy before he pas-" she stopped and bit her tongue. "Let's just say Ah met his father an’ leave it at that." Granny Smith said, poking a hoof at what she thought was the problem pipe.
"Oh..." Applejack said internally rolling her eyes and carefully placing the empty bottle into the sink. "Welp! That was a mighty fine bottle of cider! Dun me plenty good!" She said while pulling on the brim of her hat. "If ya don't mind... Ah'll just.."
And just as she stood up to walk out the door, there was a slight stumble in her gait that nearly had her tumbling to the floor.
Thankfully, as all of this was occurring, Big Mac returned from the shed, brick red toolbox handle in his mouth and with surprising reflexes, caught his sister before she could completely crumple to the hardwood floor below.
Applejack responded by shaking her head and feebly pushing him away.
"Ah said that ah was fine!" She insisted.
"Nope." Big Mac curtly replied snorting at the stubbornness that his sibling was famous for displaying.
Granny Smith placed her cheek on her grandfilly's forehead. "Humph."
"Ah just stood up too quickly, is all," Applejack glowered, almost pushing her granddam away, but changing her mind after a seconds thought.
"Hmmm, yer a bit warmer than ya oughta be there, little filly," Granny Smith assessed. "Ah'd say that yer comin' in on the first stages of sun stress. Can ya fetch her a dilly from the cellar?" She asked Big Mac.
He responded with a "Eeeyup." Before resigning himself to the endless number of fetch quests that was his life.
"Sit back down, Applejack," Granny Smith said in her soothing old grey mare voice. "Now tell Ol' Anne if yer not goin' out there ta..." she hesitated in her words.
"Ta go out there an' be waitin' fer them? Again?" Applejack finished, her voice hardly betraying the feelings she held in this matter. "It's cause Big Mac's gone an' left that wagon of cider out in the open!"
"Really? Is that all?" Granny Smith asked incredulously. The only response she got was a stern 'Don't treat me like a little filly' stare back. "Yer gonna have ta forgive me fer not takin' yer word there, A.J., after all, ya were out there last year... an' the year before that... an the year before that... an-"
"Alright!" Applejack snapped, turning away. "Ah get it-" she said, a lump forming in her throat. "Ya don't need ta say anythin' more."
Granny Smith gave Applejack a sudden but comforting hug. "Ah'm sorry, A.J., ah didn't mean ta hassle ya like that, it's just after that one time..."
"Ah know... Ah know," Applejack replied, returning the embrace. "An' Ah'm sorry too. Ah don't know what it is, but this year has been feelin'... a bit harder than usual. "
"Well," Granny pulled away and looked the freckled orange ponyin the eyes. "Just remember that we Apples look out fer one another. Have ta be strong, especially fer yer sister, ya hear?"
Applejack felt a strange mingle of guilt and -if she was being honest with herself- jealousy, for her little sister, Applebloom. After all, there were nights that she'd wished with all her heart that the little filly had known her parents the way she had, and yet in her ignorance of those figures in her life, she also lacked the heartbreak of missing them.
"Yer right, Granny, " Applejack lamented sighingly. "Ah'm sorry fer puttin' ya through the process like that..."
Granny Smith smiled and pecked Applejack on the cheek. "It's alright ma little apple turnover monster. Now! Why don't ya have a bit of a sit right here-" she said patting her on the withers to make her drop her flank to the floor.
"Wha-"
"Have a dilly, an' get yerself cooled down,” Granny Smith said, plucking a pickle from the jar Big Mac was carrying as he returned from his adventure in the basement. "Ah'll take care of that there wagon that ya'll left behind." She then proceeded to stick it in Applejack's mouth before she had the chance to protest.
"What if ya run inta Fluttershy an' H.B.?" Applejack asked after she removed the puckery, salty, dill flavored treat from her mouth.
"Then Ah'll just send them yer way or they can walk back with me," Granny Smith replied, getting her walker and making her way to the door. "Then ya can do whatever it is ya wanna with yer little friends. Just remember that Ah'm gonna need ya later taday ta take care of them varmints out near the west irrigation ditch."
"But Granny, Ah was hopin-"
"Now see here A.J.," Granny Smith began in a stern but gentle tone. "Them there fire ants are angry critters, an' Ah need yer wits about ya an' not actin' like ya got inta the month old mash from heat stroke. Ya hear?"
"Ah-" Applejack wanted to explain more about why all was so important, but with the sensitive nature of it all, she couldn't. "Alright..." she conceded, munching on the pickle. "Ah will..."
Triumphant, Granny Smith headed out the door. "Big Mac, ya mind loosenin' that there pipe fer when Ah get back? Ah know ya can do it on account of them strong muscles there."
"Eeeyup..." Big Mac replied with a mix of pride and embarrassment.
"All right, that's what Ah wanna hear," Granny Smith said as the front door screen door opened. "It takes all the Apples ta make a good pie!"
"Great words of wisdom," Applejack said under her breath after she was sure that the old mare was out of earshot. Part of her flinched in anticipation at the matriarch of the household to come barging back in. After all, Granny Smith was prone to bouts of sudden acute selective hearing.
Thankfully, though, that moment never came.
"Sorry, her advice is sometimes just a little..." Applejack sighed while nibbling on her 'dilly'.
"Eeeyup..." Big Mac replied sympathetically as he picked up a large wrench and bent down under the sink.
"At least these pickles are good, " she said, taking a crunchy bite.
"Eeeeyup," Big Mac replied, snagging his own dilly before going to work on the pipes.
=========
Little white paws were racing through the underbrush, trying their hardest not to make a sound. Their owner suddenly came to a halt, reared up, and looked around.
He then bent down and pressed his long ears to the ground to listen for the gentle hoof beats of his darling partner pony and whatever slithery horrid noise the thing would make when it violated the earth with its malformed mockeries that it dared call a hoof.
This, however, was made rather difficult by his little bunny heart still pounding in his ears.
‘How did it know that I, Angel Bunny, was even there?!’ He asked himself while closing his eyes tightly to focus on the desired sounds.
‘Was it not for the soft white paper, I, Angel Bunny, would have surely been spotted!’
Angel took a deep breath and thought of the first time he had moved in with Fluttershy when the cottage was practically just the two of them
‘Such simple times. No horrid monsters, pony visitors, and all the carrots that I, Angel Bunny, could-’
Just then, waxing nostalgic memories were interrupted by a harsh scraping noise coming from the earth below. Confused, the rabbit removed his ear from the ground and with his mighty hind leg, thumped on the dirt several times before returning said ear back to the earth for listening.
However, it was only moments later did the scraping and clawing grow louder and from a mound of displaced dirt popped the little furry face of a mole!
“Hey!” The Mole exclaimed using his oversized paws to brush the dirt off his head. “What’s the big idea?! Don’t you surface animals know that we burrowing animals are living down here?!”
Angel crossed his little arms and glared at the velvety little critter who was half way out of the ground. “I, Angel Bunny, happen to be a burrower, thank you very much.”
The mole rubbed the areas that passed for eyes; blinked and coughed into a much weaker sounding tone.
“Oh,” The Mole said, tapping the tips of his finger-like appendages together. “It’s you, Angel Bunny. Uhm, Mr. Mole is sorry about that outburst. Mr. Mole and his family have been a bit on edge, lots of dangerous sorts have been about the surface and even the dirt! Why Mrs. Mold said that she almost dug into a fire ant’s nest down in that apple pony’s grove-”
Mr. Mole stopped his chatter as he felt the vibrations from Angel’s foot, no doubt because the lagomorph’s foot was fighting the urge to start full out thumping.
Angel’s nose flared a bit as he took a deep breath and began to lean his little head forward to continue his listening.
However, when his long bunny ear was pressed against the ground once more, all he could hear was the anxious sounds of Mr. Mole scratching at the earth below his feet.
The rabbit’s eyes snapped open and he glared irritatedly at Mr. Mole.
“Does Mr. Mole mind? I, Angel Bunny, can not hear any creature coming with him making all that noise down below!”
“O-Oh!” Mr. Mole said, hopping out of his hole. He sniffed around and attempted to get a good look around at the bright surface world, but alas, he was but a mole, and his diminutive eyes did him little if any good up here.
“Uhm...” Mr. Mole was about to say something, but felt cut short as an unnatural quiet fell over the wooded area where the two humble animals were... “W-what, if it is not too much trouble to tell, Mr. Mole, is Angle Bunny listening for?” He finally managed to push out of his mouth.
“Angel Bunny’s sweet, kind Fluttershy Pony,” The rabbit replied, grimacing as he pushed his head harder into the ground.
“Oh.. Is that all? With the way Angel Bunny was talking-”
“And that thing,” Angel darkly interrupted.
“The Thing! The Thing!!” Screeched Mrs. Hawk high above. “Hide! Hiiiiiide! It comes! It cooooomes!” She screeched as she zipped on by.
“The Thing?” Mr. Mole repeated, his hand like paws quivering near his face.
Angel looked up from his listening. “Yes. The Thing.” He said standing and putting his front paws behind his back. He then began to walk around Mr. Mole. “Surely, Mr. Mole, knowing the ground as well as he does, has sensed something walking on the surface that is... unnatural?” he whispered in his ear.
“Well... Nothing...” Mr. Mole trembled. “Well, nothing... uhm.. Recently..”
“Recently?” Angel asked, raising an eyebrow and rubbing his furry little chin.
“Y-yeah,” Mr. Mole said, scratching the back of his head. “See, back at the end of the damp Earth Moon, something strange was happenin’ with the worms by the apple orchards, the one where that domestic wolf lives?”
Angel glared at the mole, his nose wrinkling at the word ‘domesticated’. “Dog. They’re a dog. And their name is Winona.”
“Ooo-oh! Pardon, Mr. Mole knows all animals benefit from havin’ the ponies around- some more so than others-” He paused to see that Angel was clearly not interested in animal politics and if he was reading him right in the bright shade, might be even a touch offended.”Err- rightieo...”
“Anyway... The worms...”
“Yes! The worms!” Mr. Mole explained, throwing his paws into the air. “The worms- the worms are usually quite fat and stout from eating all those rotten apples...” he scratched the side of his face. “But this year...? The worms were mostly lean and thin and...” he tapped his chin. “They tasted... like... sadness, like misery, and they were gummy...”
“That..” Angel began, pushing the repulsive image of eating worms out of his head. “Is most unfortunate...”
“You, Angel-Bunny are telling Mr. Mole! Why, the mole family had to burrow to the orange orchard when we found out! And that was quite the trek! And while the worms were better there, they weren’t as good as the appl-”
Just then, the sound of hoof steps could be heard drawing near...
“The reassson I don’t want to tell Twilight about thisss, isss becaussse ssshe’ll want to exxxperiment again...” came Its warped slithery voice.
“Again?” Fluttershy’s contrasting devine voice asked. “There was a first time?”
“Yesss, when ssshe wanted to test my hooovvvesss. You can agree that it isss hardly ethhhical to tessst on an unwilling participant, right?”
“Oh yes, “ Fluttershy said, her voice growing closer. “Especially if they’re animals. Even animals from other worlds.”
“...Well...Uuuhm...” It drew out an irritated groan. “Anyway, until I learn how to control... thisss... the bessst bet isss to keep me out of clossse quartersss with any ssstallionsss...”
“W-we will tell Twilight though... Right?” Fluttershy asked nervously.
“Uuuugh... Yesss... Eventually we will tell Twilight... Jussst not today...”
Angel pulled his little head back as the two passed by and continued on their way to Sweet Apple Acres. He tapped his foot and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the gears turning in his little lapine head.
“Brrr!” Mr. Mole shuddered. “Angel-Bunny was not joking! Mr Mole couldn’t see that thing, but he could feel it in the earth, he could! Like ice freezing the ground with needles it was! Oh... Mr. Mole does not want to be involved with that thing. Gonna get the family outta this place, find somewhere else with better worms and grubs.”
“But... what if that thing goes there?” Angel asked, raising a single digit on his paw. “What will Mr. Mole do then?”
“Well, uhm, Mr. Mole, uhm...” The talpidae flustered anxiously. “The Mole family will have to burrow elsewhere?”
“And what if that thing followed?”
Mr. Mole squeaked fretfully at that thought. At the thought of all the worms drying up, at that thing tormenting him-his family! What would he do!? Where would he go?! He was just one little mole!
“Angel-Bunny has an idea that could help take care of that thing. Though he’d need Mr. Mole’s help...”
“Me- Mr. Mole? What coulda lowly mole do?”
“If Mr. Mole comes to the apple farm... Angel-Bunny will explain...” The rabbit replied, his ears almost curling like devilish horns...
As the two burrowing animals dove down Mr. Mole’s burrow hole, they failed to notice the two pairs of eyes watching them. One pair in the bush and the other scurrying about in the trees...
=========
There. Hopefully that little talk will get Fluttershy off my case about talking to Twilight about this bad mane day. She seems to get that the subject is causing me quite a bit of anxiety. Though I wonder if that little comment about animals from other worlds should be cause for alarm.
Probably not.
“Gaaaah, why does it have to be so hot?” It doesn’t help that I have a big shaggy thing on my head.
“I think it’s because it’s the primary growing season and the farm ponies need the sun for their crops.” Fluttershy softly answers.
“Sort of a rhetorical question, Flutters.” Gawds, the sweat is coming off so many parts of my body. It’s making my normally tan coat a touch darker in those spots. ”Still, what I’d do for a rain cloud or a stiff breeze...”
“I can’t bring you a cloud, they're all being used, but I could fan you with one of my wings...”
Something about the way she suggests that triggers an uneasy feeling in my heat addled brain. “Nah, it’s fine, Fluttershy.” Just then I see a little red wagon with what appears to be two cases of something in them “We’re here anyway.”
“Uhm... Yes we are...” Fluttershy’s anxious glancing around and lifted hoof cues me into something being up. I’m sure that means somethings’ up. Maybe it’s just the heat getting to me...
“I’m guessing that Applejack is meant to be here too?” Poking at one of the bottles in the wagon with the frog of my hoof, I can feel the refreshing sensation of what I’m gonna assume is cold apple juice or cider tingle up my...fore...leg. “Well, these are still cold, so... I’m guessing that she had something come up. Can’t be too far away, right? Maybe she’s off somewhere with Winona waiting for you?”
“Oh! Right! Winona... T-that’s part of the reason we’re here...” Just as I thought, eyes wider, pupils going all small, ears drooping before being shot to the ‘at attention’ pose? The two of them are up to something. Ponies are really bad at hiding this sort of stuff. “Uhm, maaaybe I should go and, uhm, find her... And, uhm..”
Gawds, have I mentioned how much Fluttershy reminds me of her?
“Aaand I’ll stay here, just in case she comes back looking for you?” Damn it, normally I would be a lot more upset at the ponies lying to me. Is it because it’s Fluttershy?
“Yes. That’s a good idea,” she replies, still looking around nervously. She glances back at me before her wings start preparing themselves for flight. “Are you sure you’ll be ok. Waiting here all by yourself?”
Seriously Universe, stop using Fluttershy to remind me of my last and final girlfriend...
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” That’s right, reassure her. I mean, yeah, she’s up to something, but this is Fluttershy. Not Twilight or Rarity or Rainbow Dash or maybe Pinkie Pie. Whatever it is? I’m sure it’s well intentioned. “I shouldn’t cause too much trouble between now and then, right?”
There it is, a reassured smile. Something I, despite all my own inner turmoil and self loathing, would always aim to see on her face whenever she would seek reassurance. A little bit of light that would piece my own darkness and bring the both of us some joy.
“Right,” She affirms, her wings fluttering before full on flapping to thrust her up into the sky. “I’ll be right back.” She says in a soft comforting voice.
“I'll be here!” I reply, holding a hoof up to block the sun from my eyes. “Eeyup, I’ll be here...”
=========
Granny Smith could hear the screen door hinges creak and groan as she closed the door behind her.
“Humph, gotta get the youngins on that too,” She thought as she slowly made her way down the yellow dirt path that would ultimately bring her to the front gate. “Wait...” She stopped and wiggled her front hoof. It ground and creaked, before popping sharply. “Might as well have them look at it anyway,” she conceded. After all, on a farm this old? There was always something that needed fixing.
In the vague cobwebbed corners of her mind, she could still remember when her family had been gifted this land. Yes, despite them being replaced every so often, she could remember each and every board, plank, post of the farmhouse, and barn. Things might have changed, but the memories? The memories would remain.
How many years had she’d made her way down this dirt path? More than enough for the way to be practically worn into the ground, that’s for sure.
Oh, those paths. Her grand foals might talk about how dim she was in her twilight years behind her back... but a part of her still remembered every twist and turn, every fork and wiggle of every path that Sweet Apple Acres had to offer.
“Over down that path leads to that there them zap apple trees!”
She smiled as the howls of the timber wolves rang in her ears, the feel of the journey of her family to this tiny little valley and how Ponyville practically popped up around her Pa’s humble little farm.
“Heh, an’ that one there? That leads ta the ol’ waterin’ hole where tha youngin’s would swim. An ah would sneak out with the cousins an others in summers hotter than this one, Ah’ll tell ya what...” She reminisced, smirking.
She could almost hear the splashing of water, the laughter of her Johnathan as he jumped off the tire swing and performed a spectacular cannon ball.
The memory caused her to involuntarily flinch and defensively raise a hoof. She, of course was dry as a bone, but that didn’t stop a cold shiver from traveling down her spine, and a wry smirk being thrown at the phantasm image of her future husband as he blew a water spout before giving her a goofy smile.
“Come on in, the water’s great!” he would exclaim between chattering teeth.
Granny Smith only chuckled and kept walking.
“An’ then there’s-” She stopped in her tracks. A faded, broken sign that was only one plank nailed into a tree and covered in vines grimmly greeted her. “Not... you.” She whimpered, a lump forming in her throat. Of all days, why did she even acknowledge this path?!
Sure, the grass was growing taller in places from neglect and the birds didn’t sing as sweetly as they once did, but there was no mistaking it for any other path.
Granny Smith could practically see the silhouettes of two ponies, hear their song of longing for one another, just about smell the scent of pea-
“N-no!” She quietly cried out, turning her head away from that thorn ridden place where they would meet. “Not taday! Especially not taday!”
Just then, she heard a voice.
“Granny Smith?” A deep country stallion asked.
“Y-yes?” A matured mare’s voice asked.
Granny Smith turned to see the source of these two new ponies, only to be confronted with a painful, long buried, but tragically familiar memory playing out...The dark tan stallion had a black mane and tail with soulfully sad eyes. However, his name was escaping her, but that wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered was what he said next.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything but grim news...” He said, holding out a hat. “And... I hate to be the one havin’ to tell you this but...”
Just then a bright, excited hopeful voice broke into the somber scene.
“That’s their hat! Did ya find them Mr. Officer? Did ya?!”
“No... Go back inside there, Applejack...” Granny smith whispered along with this memory doppelganger.
“But Ah wanna know!”
“Just do whatcha were told!” the younger Granny snapped.
“Come on, Annie, don’t be so hard on her! Officer Kristo is about to-”
“This is all we found I’m afraid...” Kristo said as delicately as he possibly could.
“Whatcha mean that’s all ya found?” Little Applejack whimpered.
“And well, it’s been over...” Kristo sighed, cursing under his breath. “Well, it’s been a long time, and the Mayor is callin’ the search off. She doesn’t think...”
“No!” The little filly cried out, tears welling in her eyes.
“Ah’m sorry but we’ve searched every-”
“Yer lyin’!” She shouted, the tears falling over angry red cheeks.
“Please, I’m just here to-”
“Be quiet!” She shouted.
“Now, Applejack, that’s no way ta talk ta Officer Kristo, we didn’t raise ya ta be like that. Now get in the house an-”
“No!” She screamed, her eyes tightly shut before snapping open. “Ah Hate YOU! AH HATE YOU! AH HAT-”
“That’s enough!” Old Granny Smith snapped at the echoes of the past. She sniffed hard and wiped her old eyes and nose. “That’s enough. How dare ya make an old mare cry like that!” She spat at the path. “Ya think that this old Apple didn’t stubbornly hold out hope fer as long as she could?!” She stomped on the ground, snorted at the barely legible sign, and started storming forward.
“Ya think ah dun’t care? That ah didn’t wait just as long with that poor filly an her brother?” Granny Smith huffed. “Ah Did! Ah was there bein’ strong fer them! But there comes a time when hopin’ get in the way of livin’ an ya gotta accept that sometimes the ones ya love?” She asked openly to the air. “They never-”
Just then, off in the distance, a tan blurry, pony-shaped blur with a brownish orangy mane and tail tied up in a familiar set of teal scrunchies came into view as Granny Smith narrowed her eyes.
“C-come back...?” She finished covering her mouth. “N-no, can’t be, tain’t her, has ta be a trick of the light...” She continued rubbing her eyes in disbelief. “But...”
The unnamed mare turned, her eyes a shade of blue that from this distance sparkled with turquoise highlights. She lifted her hoof to whip her pole, casually pushing her ponytail away from her face to reveal-
“F-freckles?” Granny Smith whispered breathlessly, tossing a side her walker, her legs already working through the years of rust, age, and regret. Her heart was now pumping, racing, as a cautious canter was pushed into a full out trot!
“Hey! Hey!” She cried out, before clenching her teeth, tears waiting, just waiting to confirm that this was indeed who she thought it was!
Granny Smith felt her teeth and bones rattle as she skidded to a full stop as not to crash into them.
“Oh... H-Hi, Granny Smith,” she said startled as she coughed a bit from the dust. The old grey and green mare, narrowed her eyes once more, her ear perking the best they could. “Ah-heh... Hi... It’s me-”
“Buttercup?” Came the questioning creak of Granny Smith’s voice. “I-is it really you???”
“Me...” The mare stopped in confusion. “Buttercup?” She asked in disbelief.
“Oh! Butter on hot apple tarts! It is you!!! Ya’ve come back ta us!” Granny Smith joyfully cried, throwing her front hooves open and tightly embracing the pony. “Y-y-ya ‘ve come back ta us! Ya’ve come back...” She whispered tearfully.
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so grannys mistaken HB for buttercup?
10425207
Eeeeeeyup. :I
10425215
I love it, i hate it. Thank you for the feelings.
:,3
I think "stetson" is the word you're looking for.