An Apple Family Hearth's Warming

by Quixotic Mage

Out Into the Cold

Dessert passed quickly as Applejack scrubbed away at plate after plate. Before too long she heard the rumble of moving wood and realized that Big Mac was packing the tables up and changing the dining room back into a sitting room. It was a quieter part of the evening. Applejack could hear the intermittent laughter of the foals playing Apples to Apples, the low murmur of after-dinner conversation, and the thunk of mugs as the good cider was brought round for all to taste.

This had always been Applejack’s favorite part of the Hearth’s Warming celebration. The early excitement and chatter was fun, to be sure, but that felt like a party. After dinner quiet always felt like family to her and she rushed a bit at the dishes in the hopes of joining the rest all the sooner.

Sunset had ended an hour ago by the time Applejack neared the end of the dishes. Her hooves rather closely resembled raisins by that point, but Applejack felt only joy as she wiped the dish towel across the last of the little blue china dessert plates and carefully stacked it back in the cupboard with its kin. She removed the apron she’d been wearing to protect against splashes and left the kitchen, intent on rejoining her own kin.

Emerging into the dining room, Applejack found the littluns cleaning up their games, supervised by Granny Smith and the other elders. “Time for bed already?” she asked in surprise.

“Sure is,” Granny Smith responded. “They’ve already had an extra half-hour.”

It was a bit of a disappointment. Applejack had hoped that she’d have the chance to get to know her youngest relatives a little better this Hearth’s Warming. Still, as long as she was able to sit back with a drink and take a load off her aching hooves in the company of family she’d be happy.

“Say good night now, littluns” Granny Smith prompted. The squeaky chorus of good-nights brought a smile to every face. The adults and remaining elders waved good-bye as Granny Smith led the littluns off to the barn turned guest rooms to be tucked in for the night. Applejack’s smile grew just a little bit wider when Crab Apple declared that she was done with this substandard celebration and that she was retiring. The barb barely even hurt compared with the pleasure of her absence.

Applejack sighed in relief as she settled into a comfortable rocking chair near to the fire. “Celestia bless you Mac,” she said as her elder brother placed a foaming mug of cider on the table next to her. She drank deep and hummed in satisfaction as the sweet liquid warmed her bones.

A moment passed and Applejack let it. The Ponyville Apples had been preparing for Hearth’s Warming for weeks and engaged in intense setup for the past few days. This felt like the first time in nearly that long that Applejack had been able to sit without feeling like there was something she should be doing.

She gazed into the fire, letting the Twilight-esque focus on lists and preparations that had filled her mind at last fade away. Hearth’s Warming was nearly over and it had been a success. Applejack dared think that maybe even her parents would have been proud of the job they’d done. Now, instead of seeing to everypony else’s enjoyment she could finally take some of her own, and during her favorite part of the holiday no less.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Mere moments later the door banged open and Crab Apple barged back in. There was a dark scowl on her yellow face and she marched straight over to Applejack. “Thought you’d get back at me eh? Thought you’d freeze me to death out there and never mind the other ponies that suffer too.”

“What’s the trouble, Great Aunt Crab Apple?” Applejack asked, striving to keep her tone neutral.

“What’s the trouble?” Crab Apple screeched, drawing the gaze of the few ponies that had ignored her melodramatic entrance. “The trouble is that there’s no wood out in the barn where your stashing us and it’s freezing out there. That’s the trouble!”

Applejack had had it. She shot to her hooves and glared down at Crab Apple. It was times like these that ponies remembered that Applejack was a large pony. Not as large as Big Mac, to be sure, but she was taller than any of the other mares there. Her legs were strong as the trees she bucked and her barrel was thick with muscle from days of plowing the fields. She was, perhaps, twice the weight of the pony she loomed over and in her anger everypony suddenly remembered that fact.

“You listen here,” she growled. “You came into my house and insulted my celebration, my mother, and my food and I let it pass because I was being hospitable. But I split the wood for the barn myself earlier today, and I stacked it in a pile higher than a pony’s head. So I know you’re lying and,” Applejack’s voice rose into a shout, “I will not stand liars in my home!”

Crab Apple’s hooves gave out beneath her and she collapsed, trembling to the floor. Applejack glared down at the bitter old thing, still riled up at the righteous tongue lashing she’d just delivered.

“Applejack, she was telling the truth.” Applejack slowly turned to see Granny Smith standing in the doorway with the heads of a few littluns peeking out from behind her. “There ain’t no wood by the stove.”

Applejack shook her head. “I don’t understand. I spent all afternoon splitting wood. How can it be gone?”

Granny Smith reached behind her and brought out a colorful round shape with two gossamer wings. Applejack felt her heart drop as she saw the parasprite in Granny Smith’s hoof. There must have been a log from the Everfree Forest among their wood. The parasprite had hitched a ride and devoured all the pieces of wood she'd chopped for the fire the second she'd turned around. Thinking back, she vaguely remembered glimpsing it out of the corner of her eye, but she’d been so ready to be done that she’d ignored it.

Which meant that this was all her fault. Applejack’s eyes slid sideways to where Crab Apple was still sitting on the floor, staring nervously up at her. Awkwardly, Applejack placed a hoof on Crab Apple’s shoulder. The older pony flinched at the touch. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Crab Apple said nothing and the whole family watched as Applejack uncomfortably surveyed the room. “Granny, bring the littluns in and put them down on cushions in the guest room for now. I’ll just go split more wood then.”

Applejack thanked her lucky stars that she was the type to cry on the inside. If she had been otherwise she’d have been tearing up as she left the room, pursued by the judgmental stares of her family. She shuddered as the door closed behind her and the cold winter wind whisked away any warmth she’d brought out with her.

The cruel bite of the wind seemed horribly appropriate for the guilt that wracked Applejack as she trudged to the wood shack, dead grass crackling underhoof. She had been so close. So close to putting on a successful Hearth’s Warming celebration for her family. All she’d have had to do was keep her mouth shut one last time in the face of Crab Apple’s griping.

It wasn’t as though other hosts hadn’t had problems, dry food, not enough room, broken water heaters, that kind of thing. The Apple family was nothing if not forgiving towards those poor souls brave enough to try and host the whole clan. Everypony knew it was a difficult job and they would have understood if a pest had eaten through the wood she’d prepared.

They would be far less forgiving of what she’d said to Crab Apple. Respect was important in the Apple Family and falsely accusing an elder of lying, well that was the kind of disrespect that could be remembered for a long time to come. Apple Bloom had gotten away with her bit of temper because she was young yet and she hadn’t insulted Crab Apple’s honor, neither was the case for Applejack.

She wearily pushed open the door to the wood shed. The hinges creaked loudly and she resolved for the millionth time to oil them, though she knew there’d be other chores that would catch her attention first. She hefted a log of wood and went to slip it into the splitting machine of Twilight’s, only to receive her second unpleasant surprise of the night.

The parasprite must have had more time with the machine than she’d thought, because the wooden sidings and base were eaten clean through. The machine was entirely unusable.

Applejack let the log drop from her grasp and then she sank down to her knees on the sawdust covered floor of the drafty old shack. Hunger gnawed at her belly, her hooves were aching and sore from all the work that she’d put in getting ready for the celebration, and every gust of the wind through the cracks in the shack seemed to carry a little more of her resolve away with it.

“I can’t,” she whispered to herself. “It’s too much.” She’d barely been able to make herself come out here when she’d thought the machine was going to speed her task along. Now, the thought of each and every log she had to split hung around her neck like the weight of the maul she’d have to use.

“Come on old girl,” she argued with herself. “Can’t have you sittin’ here feeling sorry for yourself. Not when there’s work to be done. Come on now, up you get.” The words fell flat in the dead air of the shack and Applejack remained on her knees.

She tried again. “Sooner this is started the sooner I can get back where its warm and have another mug of cider. That don’t sound too bad now does it?” Still her knees remained stubbornly folded and she just couldn’t take what standing would mean.

Applejack shook her head and took a deep breath. The cold knifed into her lungs and she winced against the pain. It brought to mind an old trick she’d heard for dealing with the cold when you had to go out and work in it. Instead of fighting it, the key was to embrace it.

Her exhale puffed out a little cloud. She consciously breathed in again, letting the cold take another swing at her lungs. With an effort of will, she forced her shoulders to unknot, forced herself to stop hunching to retain warmth and let the wind blow against her full force.

It was cold, yes, and she was cold. Until the cold grew dangerous, she could accept it into herself. She took another breath and sighed, letting the tension and the warmth bleed out of her. There was a task before her and she would be cold until she completed that task. It was a simple as that.

The trembling of her limbs slowed and stopped. Discomfort was still present; she was still tired, sore, cold, and regretful. Applejack refused to let it matter. She had a job to do and if she did it right then her family members would sleep in the warmth. Maybe that would assuage her guilt for letting her temper get the best of her.

One foreleg, then the other. Then her hind legs slowly found footing and she was standing. Without letting her mental momentum fade, Applejack hefted the abandoned log once more and carried it to the opposite corner of the wood shack where the splitting stump waited.

She carefully placed the log on the stump, aligning just right so it wouldn’t fly away when she swung the maul down. Not the faintest hint of distaste crossed Applejack’s face as she laboriously lifted the heavy maul with her mouth. She judged the distance carefully and then let the maul's weight carry it down, striking the log dead center. With a thunk the first log was split.

The second log was worse, in a way. The effort splitting the first log had required was fresh in her mind, but the distance to the end seemed just as long as ever. Surely, she was due for a break, a traitorous part of her mind whispered.

She was not.

Without hesitation, Applejack lined up the second log and lifted the maul. It fell for a second time and with another thunk the second log was split.

A mindless rhythm developed. Applejack thought of nothing but the log before her and the maul in her mouth. Time passed, she was certain, but could not have said how much. All she knew was that she had to keep working until there was enough wood to keep her family warm. She was a farm pony; she’d know when she reached that point.

Sweat beaded on her coat as she worked and occasionally she had to wipe her mane out of her eyes. After splitting a particularly knotty log she wiped her eyes once more and realized quite suddenly that she was done.

There was a respectable pile of wood on the little cart just outside the shack door, just waiting to be carried to the barn and burned. It would be enough, Applejack knew. She was done at last.

Or not quite done. The wood still had to be brought to the barn after all. Applejack carefully packed the maul away, it wasn’t at fault for being a pain in the neck after all. Then, she hitched herself to the cart and trudged her way toward the barn.

Unloading went quickly compared to the long painful process of splitting the wood, though Applejack did carefully check each piece over for another hidden parasprite. At last the wood was unloaded and Applejack was satisfied that there would be no more pests devouring her firewood. She added a few pieces to the coals that had been left burning in the stove so the barn would be nice and toasty when the others settled in for the night.

After stowing the cart, Applejack trotted toward the main house to let everypony know that they wouldn’t be freezing tonight. As she neared the house some impulse made her sneak around the side to take a peek through a window into the main room.

Granny Smith must have ignored her instructions about the foals because there was a giant foal cuddle-pile in front the fire. Applejack chuckled as she saw Tiddly Pomme twitch in her sleep and poke the foal next to her into rolling over. There were little clumps of adults scattered throughout the room too. Some were speaking softly, others simply sat and enjoyed one another's company.

In one corner of the room the old phonograph had been brought back out. She could just make out the low strains of a love song as old as the couple that swayed gently to it. The love shining in their eyes was breathtaking even to where Applejack stood outside in the cold.

And she was cold, Applejack realized with start. That she was outside while her family slept and chatted and danced by the fire sent an icicle through her heart far colder than the wind could ever be. It shattered the indifference with which she’d held the cold at bay.

It didn’t have to be that way though, Applejack hoped. She was done splitting the wood and now she could rejoin her family and drink in the warmth she so desperately needed. Shivering, Applejack turned and made her way to the door.

A few ponies looked up as Applejack entered the room. “There’s wood in the barn,” she said softly, mindful of the sleeping foals. “I stoked the fire so it should be warm when y’all go to bed.”

Her words set off a muted flurry of activity. Parents carefully extracted their foals from the cuddle-pile. The phonograph was turned off and delicately stowed away. All those sitting groups got up and carried their glass off to the kitchen for washing. And through it all, not a single pony spoke to Applejack.

She understood why, of course, even if the exclusion still hurt. To be denied by her family, especially on Hearth’s Warming, was a painful thing. Beyond the straightforward discomfort of being given the cold shoulder, Applejack felt keenly the missed opportunity. There would only be so many evenings with the Apple family gathered all together and only a small number of those would be in her own home. To not receive acceptance after the work she’d put in to make the evening a success was almost more than she could bear.

It was more than she could bear to stand still for. She left the main room and took refuge in the kitchen. She could hear the clatter and murmur of ponies speaking as they left for the barn, but she could take no solace in it this time. Applejack clenched her eyes to keep her tears from falling as she listened to her family leave. She slumped on a stool at the kitchen counter and rested her face on the cool porcelain of the counter top.