Horseradish

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 1: A Farmer, Farming

The smell of apples was intense. At Sweet Apple Acres, of course, the smell of apples was always intense. Every second of every day. Applebloom- -who herself smelled strongly of apples of various types, possibly for genetic reasons- -hardly noticed, though, as she rushed across the lumpy and perfectly fertilized soil through the looming fruit-laden trees.

She stopped and turned back behind her. “Come on!” she said, “we’re almost there!”

“Almost where?” replied Sweetie Belle, clearly not nearly as enthused as her more outdoorsy friend. She looked nervously at the trees, taking note of the fact that they were far taller and far less maintained than the rest of the trees- -most of whom were named, at least by Applejack- -that covered seemingly endless hills on Applebloom’s family farm. “Isn’t this the vampire fruit bat section?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So,” said Sweetie Belle, “I’d rather not get my mane fertilized! And look what they’re doing to Scootaloo?”

They both turned to see a group of wizened bats lifting Scootaloo into the air, struggling to pull her back into the trees.

“Get off!” cried Applebloom, waving at the bats. “Scootaloo is not fruit!”

Scootaloo cried out as she was dropped from several meters over the soil. Despite the audible buzzing of her tiny, atrophied, useless wings, she plummeted with great speed and struck the grassy soil with a thump.

“Aww,” she said, standing up. At this point, she was mostly impervious to pain from having experienced it so many times in her filly life. “Why’d you have to do that? They were going to suck my juices out!”

“And you would want that?” asked Sweetie Belle, raising an eyebrow.

Scootaloo actually had to think about it for a moment. Even then, though, she seemed unsure. “No?”

“They weren’t going to suck your juices,” sighed Applebloom. “That happens sometimes. Big Macintosh’s gotten his rump bitten, like, fifty seven times. He’s too big to carry off, though, unless there’s a whole lot of bats. And that’s only happened twice.”

“At least you got to, you know, fly,” said Sweetie Belle. “Because, you know, you can’t normally do that.”

“I know, Sweetie Belle,” said Scootaloo. “I am acutely aware of that fact.”

“Did you two drink molasses for breakfast or something?” said Applebloom, turning around.

“No,” said Scootaloo.

“Yes,” said Sweetie Belle, simultaneously.

“Because you’re both so slow! Also, Sweetie Belle, that’s going to make you as fat as Celestia if you keep that up. But come ON! It’s not much farther!”

She started running again, and Scootaloo followed at the same speed. Sweetie Belle, who was the least physically fit of the three- -in part because of a habit of drinking molasses- -followed slowly. That was, at least, until she saw the numerous beady little eyes staring down at her. She then cried out and started running as she was struck by a barrage of apple seeds.

“I don’t like vampires!” she cried, sprinting until she eventually tripped over Scootaloo and collapsed into a heap in a clearing.

“Oh, Sweetie Belle!” cried Scootaloo. “So this is why you wanted to come out here with us!”

“Eew. No,” said Sweetie Belle, blushing and standing up before helping her friend back on her hooves.

They then both looked around. The apple trees had given way to a round, grassy area. It was sunnier than under the trees, but the canopy still left it mostly quite dark and peaceful.

There was also clear evidence that Applebloom had been here before. Several gardening tools were leaning on one of the trees next to a small box of plant fertilizer, chemicals, and a watering can. Applebloom picked up the latter object, the can, and took it over to one particular plant in the center of the field, looking rather proud as she did so.

The plant itself was somewhat generic, a set of rough leathery leaves that protruded from the top of a root buried deep in the ground. It did not look like anything special, but it did appear that it had been well fertilized and lovingly maintained, whatever it was.

“Well?” said Applebloom. “What do you think?”

“I think Rainbow Dash,” admitted Scootaloo. “Constantly.”

“And I think you brought us out here for…a plant?”

Applebloom gasped as though she was offended. “A PLANT? Just a PLANT? Sweetie Belle, do you even know what this is?”

“A plant. We’ve established it.”

“This is a…” she paused, and looked around as though somepony where listening. Then she leaned in close to Sweetie Belle and to a lesser extent Scootaloo. “It’s a HORSERADISH.”

Sweetie Belle stared at her friend. “Really?”

“Really!”

“I was joking. Come on, Applebloom! Horseradish is a myth! We’re grown fillies! We’re too old to believe in fairytales!”

“So then why have I been watering for the last three weeks, hmm?” said Applebloom, as if that proved that it was one of the mythical alchemical roots.

“You’ve been watering a weed!” retorted Sweetie Belle, exasperated.

“Just like Tree Hugger!” said Scootaloo, excited that she was able to contribute to the conversation. Both Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked at her. “What?” said Scootaloo. “You know, Fluttershy’s friend. She’s always talking about watering her weed.”

The two stared at Scootaloo for a moment before deciding to ignore what she had said, as per usual. “Right,” said Sweetie Belle. “I don’t mean to be mean, Applebloom. But horseradishes just aren’t real. They’re a legend. Like chupacabras, or supply-side economics.”

“You shut your dirty horse mouth!” cried Applebloom. “Chupacabras ARE real! My brother got sucked by one once!”

“I’m sure he did,” said Sweetie Belle, rolling her eyes.

“It IS a horseradish!” said Applebloom. “I’ve cross referenced every part of it with Granny Smith’s stories!”

“And has Granny Smith ever SEEN a horseradish?”

“Well…no…but she once knew a handsome stallion who- -”

“Applebloom, I don’t want to hear about that!”

“Why are we arguing?” asked Scootaloo, walking toward the plant. “Let’s just pull it up and see!”

She grasped the stalk of the plant with her teeth, and Sweetie Belle’s eyes went wide. “NO!” she cried, firing a bolt of magic from her nubby little horn. The blast hit Scootaloo in the side with enough force to knock her prone.

“Gah! Scootabuse! SCOOTABUSE!” cried Scootaloo.

“Sweetie Belle!” cried Applebloom, a look of shock on her face.

“If you pull it up and it IS a horseradish and it screams- -”

“Wait, I thought you said horseradishes weren’t even real!”

“They aren’t,” said Sweetie Belle, “I told you, they’re a legend. But I know the legends. I read it in books. If you pull up a horseradish and it screams, you’ll…well…”

“What?”

“Get the dead.”

The three fillies stood in silence for a moment, contemplating how close they had just come to bringing the Cutie Mark Crusaders to an untimely and inglorious end.

“Well,” said Applebloom at last, “did you’re fancy books tell you any way to get it up without…you know…that sort of thing happening?”

“As a matter of fact, they did…”