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Day One2,731 words
Day Two2,255 words
Day Three2,903 words
Day Four2,291 words
Day Five2,066 words
Day Six1,076 words
Year One359 words

Day Five

The sun didn’t rise that morning.

At least, not that they could see. Thick and dark clouds covered the sky, turning the world gray as night came to an end. Snow sliced horizontally through the air, blown by wind hard enough to whistle over the shelter’s ventilation slits.

Applejack stepped outside to take it in, and shivered. Her sweater and vest handled the cold well enough, but the wind cut right through. And even a minute in the storm blasted her with snow from head to boot.

Rarity helped her brush it off as fast as they could. Snow turned to wetness in their shelter. Wetness was bad.

They stoked the fire, neither speaking. Early, vague hopes that the storm would pass quickly faded as they drank their tea. If anything, it only got worse with no end in sight.

Rarity sipped pensively, standing at the door. Applejack wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they watched the giant evergreens rustle and shake in the billowing white.

“What should we do?” Rarity murmured.

To Applejack, it was obvious. “Nothing.”

She gave a wry smile and shrugged at Rarity’s questioning look. “We’ve got wood and we’ve got food. Trying to go out in this will do a powerful lot more harm than good.”

A smile hovered beneath Rarity’s bagged eyes. She gave a languid yawn and stretched, then began pulling off her gloves. “A lazy day in, hm? Very well.”

Rarity sauntered over to their supplies, plucked out one of her magazines, then retired back to the bed. She pulled the thin blanket over her, shivering with a brief chatter of teeth before clamping them shut.

“Goodness, it’s drafty in here. Be a dear and help me out with that, please.”

Applejack wasn’t much of a reader. She also had nothing better to do. She picked up one of Rarity’s books and slipped next to the girl in her own spot, still warm from where she slept.

The wind whistled, but was easy enough to shut out. Applejack grinned stupidly as she finished the first chapter. A cheesy romance so typical of Rarity, more like a comedy in Applejack’s mind. She guessed the plot even with three-hundred pages to go: a high-born lady, befriending and inevitably romancing a hunky farmer. He was a strong, sensitive family-man, she was a dainty beauty.

...Huh.

And so the time passed. Rarity swapped one magazine for the next, then picked up her other book. Applejack set hers down, bored of the reading but never one who really needed to be entertained. She watched the fire dance and spark, breathed in its wholesome smell.

Her eyes drifted to Rarity – clearly worn and frazzled, but holding up better than Applejack would have ever guessed. The porcelain cheeks were smudged with smoke, the perfectly-coiffed hair reduced to a flat and split mess. But she was so beautiful, even now. Especially now.

The coif and curls and makeup were all important to Rarity. So Applejack held in her teasing and flirting, and instead simply wrapped both arms around to hug her from behind. The wind nipped at them inside, but bundled in the blanket and pines it wasn’t so bad.

Applejack hadn’t slept well since the crash, so the quiet stillness was more than welcome. She hadn’t realized how sore her muscles had become, how pleasant it was to just lie there and sink into the lumpy pine. She dozed, woke. Rarity had put down her book and turned around, bringing them face-to-face.

They smiled to each other, and their bellies growled.

“Apples?” Rarity said without much enthusiasm.

Applejack gave a grunt. “I have a better idea.”

Hoisting herself up wasn’t fun. Their fire was protected, but the batting of the draft kept its flames low and the shelter cold. A bit of effort got their blood pumping, shifting the fire from the doorway and building it up with the second post. Applejack retrieved the leftover turkey and got to work, slicing it into thin strips and laying them flat in the salad bowl. Salt, pepper, and that last of their meager vegetables made it something of a stir-fry, with each piece sizzling and cooking in its own grease. A few small pieces of wood served easily enough as chopsticks, and as the wind died down they sat around the fire to eat.

Perhaps, not as miraculous as the soup. But the novelty of eating right from the pan made it fun, though both burned their tongues. Salt and fat filled them deliciously, and at the end they sighed and rubbed their stomachs, suddenly not so cold anymore.

The last of the turkey. A windfall, gone.

Right now, they were full and content. Snow continued piling outside, but the wind’s drop returned the shelter to its normal warmth.

No sense trying to leave, but neither wanted to lie down after a long and lazy morning. So they puttered. Applejack whittled and stared into the fire. Rarity picked up the guitar and strummed easily at its strings. A smooth, calm tune soon overtook the cabin, played straight from the girl’s imagination. They were all a bit musically inclined, but Rarity was more a songwriter than Applejack could ever be.

They read, they played guitar. They watched outside. The snow came down, down.

They sat close to the fire as the bland white landscape drifted slowly into dark. Burning two posts at once let each share heat and reduced the need for kindling. They had burned so long now that red embers glowed, warming the girls with barely any flames at all.

“Wish I had some marshmallows to eat,” Applejack mused, sitting on a cushion beside her friend.

“I’m a marshmallow,” Rarity said.

Silence.

Applejack looked at her. “What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Darling. It must have been the wind.”

Rarity definitely said something… but she couldn’t possibly have gone where Applejack thought. Deciding to move on, Applejack idly strummed a few bars on the guitar.

“A hot, gooey marshmallow would go down really well.”

“Indeed, Darling.”

Rarity put a meaningful tone in the words, like some in-joke Applejack didn’t understand. Just Rarity being Rarity.

“But man, first I want more real food. Normal living ain’t just one good meal a day.”

Applejack pat her stomach. The meat had fueled her nicely, but dinner had been a return to chips and cookies.

“One meal was a pleasant change of pace,” Rarity murmured, leaning into Applejack. The last strum faded as white fingers wrapped around Applejack’s arm. Applejack looked to her – Rarity’s eyes were turned outside. Fat flakes still fell after all this time.

“Back to the norm, I suppose,” Rarity said quietly. She glanced to the empty bag sitting between them, then back outside. “Except without the chips and cookies. Just a few apples left.”

She leaned into Applejack. Her voice grew quieter still. “We’re in quite the pickle, aren’t we?”

Applejack wrapped an arm around and pulled her in close. “Not yet, we ain’t.”

“We’re out of food.”

“Help will come any day now.”

Rarity looked over. “We keep saying that.”

“And we ain’t wrong.” Applejack gave a steady nod. She smiled for all she was worth, and was rewarded by a slight turn of Rarity’s frown. “All else goes, we can eat bark and pine. When the bowl finally conks out we can melt snow in our mugs. We’re getting through this.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Rarity gave a fragile little laugh.

Applejack shrugged, still beaming. “We’ll live. I never said easy.”

“Actually, it might be.” Rarity stood abruptly, ushering a sudden chill. Her nerves vanished into businesslike speed as she strode over to their bags.

It became Applejack’s turn to stare into the snowfall. Her confidence wasn’t fake. They’d be fine. She was… mostly sure of it. Although bark and pine wasn’t much to look forward to. And they’d have to wade through even more snow to gather it. Less food, less energy…

“HA!”

It came out so shrill and sharp that Applejack thought it was a sneeze. Lord knows her own throat had been getting scratchy.

“Bless you.”

“No!” Rarity sped into sight, collapsed back into her seat. Both hands cradled and gripped her phone. She pointed to the screen – the wallpaper of her and Applejack working the cotton candy stand last summer.

And the three escalating bars on top.

“I have a signal!”

“And thirty-percent batteries,” Applejack warned. Cold weather had taken its toll.

Rarity tapped quickly, with Applejack gazing over her shoulder. Hundreds of unread messages on the Rainbooms’ group chat, dozens of texts, sixteen missed calls.

More messages arrived, buzzing down the battery. The girls were online. Rarity plugged into the group-call function, sending a notification to the others.

Chimes signaled their arrival: three, four, five. Rarity and Applejack could barely get a word in as everyone began talking at once.

“Oh my goodn–”

“–Roads closed...”

“Stupid cops...”

“–re you safe? Injured?”

“Should we call 911?”

“We drove through right after the plows but didn’t see anyth–”

“Girls!” Applejack snapped as Rarity’s battery icon turned red. “Listen to me. We don’t got much power left.”

Rarity silently motioned Applejack to take the lead. Applejack heaved a deep breath and did just that. “We’re safe. We’re maybe an hour outside Canterlot, by a real wicked turn in the highway. Little past Exit 36, I think. I have our junk piled up by the road… it’s probably buried now but I’ll dig it out.”

“Got it,” Sunset said. The group’s natural leader spoke with low determination. “Hang on. We’re coming out there right now.”

Rarity tensed. She shot Applejack a glance, and Applejack nodded.

“No. Don’t you dare.”

Applejack looked guiltily to Rarity, who returned an encouraging smile.

“It’s dark and it’s been storming all day, even worse than when we crashed.”

“Crash!?” Rainbow’s raspy voice cut in. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“We’re safe and steady,” Applejack coached. “And we need you to be too if you’re getting us out of this. You gotta wait til the plows hit it.”

Sunset answered tersely. “Are you absolutely sure you’ll be safe?”

“Safer than you would be coming in.”

“That’s not a yes,” Sunset pressed.

Applejack gave a tight laugh. “Yes, Sunny. We’re right as rain.”

“Rarity?” Sunset asked.

A light huff sounded from Applejack’s side. “‘Right as rain’ my foot. I am sore and hungry, but yes, darlings, we are safe.”

“Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.” Sunset hesitated, then spoke on. “I’ll call the county. If they know someone’s stranded they’ve gotta prioritize that for the plows, right? Maybe they have a night-shift number.”

“Roger that,” Applejack said. “We have to go dark now. Rarity’s almost out of juice and I have to save my batteries in case we need to call tomorrow night or some-such.”

“You won’t,” Sunset said.

“If the plows don’t make it we’ll have to camp out another–”

Sunset groaned and laughed with the same breath. “Applejack, I’m glad you two are chill about this. I super, one-million percent am. But on this side we’ve been freaking out for the last ninety-six hours. First the snow barred the way, then cops closed the roads and forced us back, then we followed the plows and didn’t see anything. We are getting you out tomorrow if I have to steal a plow truck myself and clear the whole damn highway.”

The red bar began blinking. Applejack traded a nod with Rarity. “Sounds great to us. I’ll turn on my phone tomorrow for updates. Once we hear you’re on the road we’ll go stand by it.”

“Stay warm, you two.”

The others chimed in their own well-wishes and promises to come soon. Rarity turned off the phone and slipped it in her pocket.

A sudden thought made Applejack laugh. “We should’ve asked them to bring food.”

“They’re our friends.” Rarity smiled coyly. “They will.”

Applejack gave a mighty yawn and stretched for all she was worth. “Whelp, looks like it’s our last night together.”

“Our last night together here.” Rarity corrected.

Applejack brushed her teeth, and used a last bowl of warm water to wash her face. She settled down into her accustomed spot with Rarity and watched the fire grow dim as her eyes slowly closed.

They blinked open. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, Darling,” Rarity hummed, snuggling her backside into Applejack’s chest. “Go to sleep.”

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