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Chapter 11,866 words
Chapter 22,794 words

Chapter 1

Rarity watched Applejack work.

Methodical and efficient, Applejack rolled a log as thick as she was tall (not to mention just about as long) across the clearing to a sturdy, weatherbeaten frame. Once she secured the massive piece of wood, the farmpony picked up a metal wedge, securing the sharp end in the hardwood with a few raps of her hoof. No sooner was the wedge in place, Applejack spun around and kicked it with both back hooves. A thunderbolt-sharp crack of splitting wood rang through the orchard, and the log tumbled apart into quarter-sections. Applejack tossed the split wood onto an ever-growing woodpile, and then went to get another log to start the process anew. It was barely past lunchtime, but to judge by the amount of split wood piled up, Applejack had been at work since breakfast, if not earlier.

Under normal circumstances, Rarity would have been happy to laze in the shade while Applejack went about her chores. While the unicorn's own trade was a far more genteel one, Rarity appreciated hard work, no matter its form. There was just something ever-so-satisfying in seeing a job so well done. Of course, there was a certain ... aesthetic appeal to be had as well. The play of muscle beneath that orange coat, the proud flick of that blonde tail-- one would have to be blind not to appreciate them. And even then, blindness would be no excuse if one had the opportunity to feel those strong but gentle hooves firsthand-- Rarity shook her head, reminding herself that these certainly weren't normal circumstances.

Because Applejack wasn't supposed to cry cry when she did her chores.

It was a subtle thing, one that one could be forgiven for missing (especially if one were distracted by, say, the powerful tension held in Applejack's shoulders). But Rarity knew better. While the tears didn't flow steadily, they were still there, welled up in the corners of Applejack's green eyes. The sight of the farmpony going through such emotional pain (Rarity knew it must be emotional, as mere physical pain would have come with more swearing on Applejack's part). The unicorn took a step forward-- then two back. She had to address the subject delicately, perfectly, lest she make things worse.

“Rarity?” Applejack said. “How long have you been there?”

“Oh! Ah, not long.” Rarity said, and forced a grin. “When you missed our brunch date, I thought I'd drop by. Not that I'm mad or anything, mind you-- I know full well how easy it is to get wholly engrossed in a project, only to completely forget whatever prior commitments you might have made. So I figured, if you couldn't make it to brunch, then I would just have to bring brunch to you.”

Rarity held up the picnic basket she'd brought with her. “I do hope it's not too warm-- it took me longer than I expected to find you-- nopony was in the farmhouse, so I was left to just roam back and forth 'til I found you here. It wasn't so bad, honestly-- a country stroll is good for the constitution, after all. But here, I'm rambling-- time for scones!”

“That's ... mighty nice of you, Rarity. But I ain't hungry.” Applejack shook her head, and went to fetch another log, though now her steps were even heavier than before.

“Are you sure?” Rarity said. “As it looks like you're working up quite the appetite ... “

“I. Ain't. Hungry.”

“Yes, yes, but ... at least humor me, and have something to drink? I mean, just watching you is enough to make me thirsty. I can't imagine what you're going through.” Rarity set the basket down and started rummaging through it with her telekinesis 'til she brought out a stoppered carafe. “Don't worry, there's more orange juice than champagne in these mimosas. That is, if you can bring yourself to drink something other than cider.”

“Ain't thirsty, neither.”

“You're a terrible liar.” Rarity took two champagne flutes out of the basket and set to filling them. “Which one would expect, for any number of reasons. Now please, just a little refreshment? For me?” Rarity fluttered her eyelashes at Applejack in a practiced and entirely unfair gesture.

“I ... you ... gah.” Applejack's shoulders slumped in defeat as she reached out and took the too-delicate champagne glass between her front hooves. “I'm only drinkin' this so you'll leave me alone.” With that, Applejack tilted the flute back, guzzling the mimosa down as if it were a shot of whiskey.

“Leave you alone?” Rarity looked down at her own drink. “If ... that's what you really want, I suppose I'll respect your wishes.” She swirled her own mimosa in its glass, and then allowed herself a sip of the fizzy orange liquid. It was metallic, flat on her tongue. “But before I go, I'd ... I'd like to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Applejack tilted her head to the side, her exhausted annoyance giving way to a more puzzled look. “What for?”

“For ... for whatever I've done to upset you.” Rarity said. “Even if I don't know what that is.”

“It ... it ain't you, Rarity.” Applejack looked down, and her nose crinkled up in a dejected sniffle.

The unicorn let out a relieved sigh. “Then ... then what is it?” Rarity stepped closer, and then reached out with one delicate hoof to tilt Applejack's chin upward, all the better to look into her entrancing (if currently tragically tear-filled) eyes. “You ... you know you mean the world to me, Applejack. It pains me so to see you like this.”

The cowpony stared back, wide-eyed, teary, and utterly, utterly lost. “It ain't you, darlin'. It's just ... her. She's gone, Rarity.” And with that admission, Applejack's emotional bulwark collapsed, and the cowpony started sobbing outright.

“Gone?” Rarity's mouth went dry as she recalled the empty farmhouse. Her half-full champagne glass tumbled to the ground, forgotten, as she pulled Applejack into a tight, desperate embrace. “I ... I didn't know. I'm sorry-- so, so very sorry.”

“Ain't nothin' to be sorry for.” Applejack managed between sniffles. “We ... I knew it was comin'. Always did. And then, this mornin' ... I ... I guess it was just time, I guess.”

Rarity's lip quivered, but she held herself together-- she had to, for Applejack's sake. “Why didn't you tell me?” She murmured into Applejack's ear. “Here I am, making a perfect ass of myself while you're ... well, I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through.”

“It's fine.” Applejack said, between sobs. “It was ... kinda nice, really. Workin' out here, by myself. Just ... just pretendin' things was normal, y'know? Just do what needs doin', n' try to forget about ... about her.”

“Applejack!” Rarity gasped. “That is a terrible idea. As you owe it to yourself-- owe it to her not to forget a single moment. I mean, so long as you remember her, she'll never really be gone.”

“Y'think?”

“I do not think, I know.” Rarity smiled, and ran a hoof over Applejack's proud blonde braid. “Why, my mother always told me that if you close your eyes and listen very, very carefully, you can sometimes hear the voice of a loved one on the summer breeze--”

“APPLEJACK! GET YER BRITCHES OVER HERE! I CAIN'T FIND MY BEST GIRDLE!”

“--and now I seem to remember her too.” Rarity said, blinking.

“Comin' Granny!” Applejack untangled herself (however reluctantly) from Rarity's embrace, then wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hoof. “Thanks for stoppin' by, Rarity, but I'd best get this taken care of.”

“Y'ALL BEST GET TO MOVIN' WITH A QUICKNESS! I'M LIABLE TO START GROWIN' ROOTS OVER HERE!”

Rarity blinked her own tear-filled eyes, and turned towards the source of the authentic frontier gibberish. Sure enough, she could pick out the form of Granny Smith tottering up the trail: wrinkled, ornery, and very much alive.

Applejack steadied herself, coming close to her typically sunny disposition. “I'd better take care of this. You know how Granny Smith gets when she's in a mood.”

“I don't actually.” Rarity sat down on her haunches, then instinctively poured herself another mimosa from the carafe. “Though I ... suppose I'm lucky that I'll get the chance to? What, with her miraculous recovery and all.”

“Miraculous whatnow?”

“Unless it was ... some other pony you're crying about?” Rarity ran through various possibilities in her head, naturally focusing on the worst possible scenario. “Oh heavens, you don't mean to say Apple Bloom--”

“Do what now? Apple Bloom's off visitin' her cousin Babs for the weekend. Ain't lookin' forward to tellin' her the bad news when she gets back.”

“Oh, thank heavens.” Rarity shook her head. “I can't imagine how I'd tell my little sister if anything terrible happened.”

“Hold up,” Applejack said, squinting suspiciously. “Did you think somethin' terrible happened to my whole family for some reason?”

“Not all of them! Just ... one of them. That's what you made it sound like, darling.”

“APPLEJACK! YOU GONNA LISSEN TO YOUR GRANNY OR ARE YOU GONNA SPEND THE WHOLE DAY CANOODLIN' WITH MISS PRISSYFACE?”

“We ain't canoodlin'!” Applejack yelled back across the clearing, and then turned back to glare at Rarity. “I weren't talkin' about anypony. I'm talkin' about ... about ... “ Applejack's face fell. “Bloomwood.”

“Who?”

“Bloomwood.” Applejack said, and walked over to the pile of unsplit logs. She set a hoof on the rough, gnarled bark, and sighed. “She's-- she was the oldest tree in the orchard. But now she's gone, and ... things just ain't gonna be the same. All that's left to do is to make sure she's put to good use, now.”

Rarity rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “This ... this is a joke, yes?”

“Why would I joke 'bout somethin' like this?”

“It's a tree, darling. Admittedly, an important one ... but it's just a plant, in the grand scheme of things. Don't you think you're ... overreacting? Just a smidge?”

“Says the pony who needs a faintin' couch if she sees somebody mixin' stripes with plaid.”

“Gasp!” Rarity said the full word. “That ... that's different! That's--”

“Important?” Applejack sneered.

Rarity grit her teeth. “Ah. I see you're going to be unreasonable. Fine then!” She huffed, and started shoveling champagne glasses and picnic supplies back into her basket. “I'll just leave you out here to your ... your sweating. Once you're ready to apologize, you'll know where to find me.”

“And you will know where to find me!” Applejack snapped, and heaved another heavy log into place, sinking the splitting wedge into the wood.

“Fine!” Rarity shut the picnic basket.

“Fine!” Applejack slammed one of her back hooves into the log, shattering it with a single kick.

Rarity made a haughty huff, and turned her back on Applejack. She lingered, just for a moment, to give Applejack the chance to say something, anything in apology ... only to wince as she heard another crack of splitting wood. The unicorn huffed, took up her picnic basket, and trotted down the path. She nodded to Granny Smith as she passed, murmuring something mostly incoherent about how nice it was to see her in good health.

This done, Rarity pressed on, heading back to Ponyville and the safety of her boutique.

She did, after all, have work to do.

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