All Day, Everyday.

by Penanka72

Chapter 20 - An Honest Days Works.

Today was a unique day for Amelia, a day where her strength and endurance would truly be put to the test—not in a gym, not against Scootaloo, but in something far more grounded. Today, she was getting a taste of adult life. For the first time ever, Amelia had a job—a part-time gig on Sweet Apple Acres, with none other than Applejack as her employer.

The opportunity had come about thanks to Apple Bloom, who had casually suggested that Amelia lend a hand on the orchard. With the deadline to ship apples to the market fast approaching, the farm needed all the help it could get. To Amelia, it sounded like a win-win: she’d finally earn her own money, and maybe, just maybe, start paying back all the debts she owed—including Rainbow Dash’s generous gym membership sponsorship.

So, with the early morning sun still creeping up over Ponyville, Amelia made her way up the dirt path to the orchard. It was 7:30 a.m., the air crisp and cool, the scent of apples thick in the breeze. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, packed with essentials for what she imagined would be a long day. She felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation. How hard could apple farming be, really?

Little did she know, she was about to find out.

As Amelia strolled up the path toward Sweet Apple Acres, the peaceful morning was suddenly interrupted by a loud whoosh and a gust of wind that sent her hair flying in all directions. Before she could react, a grey blur crashed down right in front of her, landing with a not-so-graceful thud.

Amelia jumped back, clutching her chest. “What the—!”

When the dust settled, there stood Derpy Hooves, Ponyville’s infamous mailmare, her golden eyes slightly askew but full of their usual quirky charm. She straightened up, brushing off some dirt from her mailbag with one wing, and offered Amelia a bright smile. “Hi, Aurora! Didn’t mean to drop in like that!”

Amelia blinked, her initial shock melting into a grin. “Derpy! You scared the life out of me, but it’s good to see you. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be busy with mail deliveries.”

“Oh, I’m helping out on the farm today! Applejack said they could use some extra hands, and I thought it’d be fun to pitch in.”

Amelia tilted her head, studying Derpy for a moment. The bubbly energy was there, but something about her grin didn’t sit quite right. It was just a little too fixed, her usual warmth not quite reaching her misaligned eyes.

“Really? That’s great.” Amelia said, keeping her tone light as she decided not to press. “It’ll be nice to work with somepony I know. Between the two of us, we’ll have these apples sorted in no time.”

Derpy’s wings fluttered slightly as she chuckled. “Yeah! We’ll make a great team!”

Amelia nodded, her smile genuine as she adjusted her bag and motioned toward the path. “Well, let’s get going. Can’t keep Applejack waiting, right?”

“Right!” Derpy agreed, walking alongside Amelia as they continued up the path. Despite Derpy’s cheerful words, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling that something was weighing on her. Still, she figured it was best to wait—maybe the day’s work would ease whatever was on the mailmare’s mind.

As Amelia and Derpy walked side by side up the dirt path, Amelia glanced at her companion, curiosity bubbling to the surface. “Hey, Derpy, I’ve been meaning to ask—how’re you doing after that match against the Garibaldi? You came off at halftime. Are you okay?”

Derpy’s ears perked up, and her steps faltered for just a second before she quickly recovered. “Oh, that! Yeah, I’m totally fine.” she said, her tone bright but a little rushed. “Coach just wanted to try a different tactic for the second half. You know how it is—mixing things up, keeping the other team on their feet.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because from what I saw, you were putting in some solid work in the first half. Pulling defenders out of position, making runs in behind the defence, you caused them a lot of trouble.”

Derpy’s crooked smile grew, this time a little more genuine. “You think so? I was just doing my best out there. Garibaldi’s defence is no joke, though. I was flying everywhere trying to get past them.”

“Well, it showed.” Amelia said, nudging Derpy lightly with her elbow. “You’re a beast on the field when you’re in the zone.”

“Aw, thanks, Aurora.” Derpy’s cheeks tinted slightly pink as she flapped her wings once, clearly flattered. “But really, it was just a tactical thing. The coach wanted some fresh legs on the field for the second half. No big deal.”

Amelia nodded, though she couldn’t help but notice the way Derpy’s gaze drifted toward the ground for a moment before she quickly looked back up. “As long as you’re okay. You had me worried there for a sec.”

“I’m fine, promise.” Derpy said with a quick nod. “And besides, the Toffees won, didn’t they? That’s what matters.”

“True.” Amelia agreed with a grin. “But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet. Next match, I’m expecting a killer assist—or maybe even a goal.”

Derpy chuckled, her wings fluttering lightly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The barn at Sweet Apple Acres was already buzzing with early-morning activity when Amelia and Derpy arrived. Applejack and Big Mac were stretching near the barn door, their movements fluid and practiced as if this were just another day in their apple-picking lives. Nearby, Apple Bloom trudged out of the farmhouse, clutching a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. She looked half-awake, her mane still messy from what Amelia could only assume had been a rough night.

“Mornin’, y’all.” Apple Bloom muttered groggily as she squinted at her clipboard. Despite her tiredness, she was already organising the day’s tasks, glancing back and forth between the clipboard and the barn like a seasoned forepony.

“Good morning, Apple Bloom.” Derpy said cheerfully, waving a wing.

“Morning.” Amelia added, though her attention quickly shifted to Applejack, who greeted them with her usual sunny smile.

“Well, look who showed up bright and early.” Applejack said, tipping her hat. “Y’all ready for some honest-to-goodness hard work?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Amelia replied, though the weight of the promise hung heavier than she’d expected. She was still sore from the gym and her impromptu rivalry with Scootaloo, but she wasn’t about to let Applejack—or herself—down.

As they exchanged pleasantries, Apple Bloom sipped her coffee and pointed at a row of crates waiting to be loaded onto a cart. “We’re still waitin’ on one more pony.” she said, her voice carrying an edge of authority despite her tired tone.

“Minuette.” Applejack clarified, tightening the strap of her hat. “She’s always a big help when we’re under the wire. Hard worker, that one.”

Amelia stiffened slightly at the name, her stomach twisting into a knot. Minuette. The thought of working alongside her was less than appealing. Minuette was infamous for her no-nonsense attitude, her terrifying work ethic, and that ever-present frown that made her look like she was judging the world and finding it lacking. Amelia wasn’t exactly on great terms with her either, not after the incident—barging into Minuette’s house while she was mid-shower. It had been an honest mistake, but Minuette hadn’t exactly been forgiving.

As if on cue, a shadow appeared in the distance, moving with a brisk, purposeful stride. There was no mistaking the bright blue coat and signature frown. Minuette was on her way, her saddlebags bulging with tools and supplies.

Amelia’s discomfort must have shown, but if it did, none of the others noticed. Derpy hummed cheerfully as she adjusted her mailbag, and Applejack and Big Mac exchanged a few words about the work ahead. Apple Bloom flipped a page on her clipboard, oblivious to Amelia’s growing dread.

Amelia forced herself to stand a little straighter. Come on, she thought. You’re not a kid. You can handle this. Just apologise for the shower thing, keep your head down, and survive the day.

When Minuette finally arrived, she barely acknowledged the group with more than a curt nod. “Morning.” she said briskly, her voice sharp as her gaze landed on the crates. “Let’s get moving. We’re already behind.”

Amelia swallowed hard, but no one else seemed to notice her reaction. As Minuette started inspecting the tools and barking out suggestions to Applejack, Amelia silently steeled herself. It was going to be a long day.

With everypony gathered, Applejack took charge, her voice calm but commanding as she assigned roles for the day.

“All right, listen up, y’all.” Applejack began, glancing at her assembled team. “We’re on a tight schedule, so here’s how we’re divvyin’ up the work. Big Mac and Minuette, you’ll both work individually, transportin’ and pickin’ apples from the far sections. Y’all are good at workin’ solo, so I trust ya to get it done.”

Big Mac gave a simple nod, and Minuette responded with her usual no-nonsense frown, already scanning the crates and tools as if planning her strategy. Amelia couldn’t help but feel a pang of relief that she wouldn’t be paired with Minuette—at least for now.

Applejack turned her attention to Derpy and Apple Bloom. “Bloom, you and Derpy are teamin’ up. You’ll focus on pickin’ and storin’ apples near the east barn. Make sure everything’s packed neatly. We don’t want bruised apples headin’ to market.”

Apple Bloom gave a tired but affirmative hum, while Derpy saluted enthusiastically with her wing, nearly knocking over a nearby bucket. Amelia had to stifle a grin at the contrast between the two.

Finally, Applejack looked directly at Amelia. “And you’re with me, sugarcube. I’ll show ya the ropes—how to pick the apples proper, where to store ‘em, and all that good stuff. Think of it as your crash course in apple farmin’.”

Amelia straightened up, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. “Got it. Let’s do this.”

Applejack smiled, adjusting her hat. “That’s the spirit. Now grab that basket over there, and I’ll teach ya how it’s done.”

As the group split off to tackle their tasks, Amelia followed Applejack toward the first section of the orchard. The crisp morning air was filled with the earthy scent of apples and leaves, and the distant sound of tools echoed faintly in the background. Amelia glanced back to see Big Mac already hauling a loaded cart with ease, Minuette working with almost mechanical efficiency, and Derpy and Apple Bloom fumbling with their crates as they tried to get into sync.

Applejack chuckled softly. “Don’t mind the others. Everypony’s got their own style, but what matters is gettin’ the job done.”

Amelia nodded, hoisting the basket Applejack had pointed out. “So, what’s step one?”

Applejack grinned. “Step one? Pay attention. Pickin’ apples ain’t as simple as it looks, but once you get the hang of it, you’ll be clearin’ trees in no time. Now watch close, and I’ll show ya the right way to do it.”

With that, Amelia’s crash course in apple farming officially began.

Applejack led Amelia to the base of a tall apple tree, its branches heavy with ripe, red fruit. Setting down her basket, Applejack gave the tree a quick pat, as if greeting an old friend. “All right, sugarcube, first things first—I’m gonna teach ya the classic way to harvest apples: buckin’ the tree.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Bucking? Like… kicking?”

“Exactly.” Applejack said with a grin. She stepped back, positioning herself squarely with the trunk. “It’s all about aim and power. You wanna hit the trunk just hard enough to shake the apples loose without bruisin’ ’em.”

With that, Applejack reared up and delivered a swift, perfectly aimed kick to the tree. The apples rained down in a satisfying cascade, landing neatly in the baskets below. Amelia couldn’t help but gape, impressed by the sheer precision.

“Your turn.” Applejack said, stepping aside.

Amelia hesitated, glancing between the tree and her own legs. “Uh… you do know I’m not exactly built like an earth pony, right?”

Applejack chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fair point. You’re still growin’, and you don’t have that earth pony strength yet. No shame in it. Tell ya what…” She trotted over to a nearby tool rack and picked up a long pole with curved spikes at the end. “You can use this here apple picker. Just snag the apples off the branches one by one.”

Amelia took the tool, eyeing it skeptically. “Not as flashy as a kick, huh?”

“Maybe not.” Applejack admitted, “but it gets the job done. Now, give it a try.”

As Amelia started carefully snagging apples with the tool, she heard a loud thwack nearby. Turning her head, she saw Apple Bloom effortlessly kick a tree, sending apples tumbling down like a well-rehearsed dance. The younger mare didn’t even pause, moving to the next tree with the same confident stride.

Amelia felt a pang of envy as she watched Apple Bloom’s legs in action, her kicks precise and powerful. A thought crossed her mind, one she couldn’t shake. If I had legs like that in goal… She imagined herself diving and kicking, clearing shots effortlessly with strength that seemed unshakable. Maybe that’s why earth ponies make the perfect goalkeepers. Amelia had the speed and the reflexes of a pegasus but—it’s about power too, that’s something she’d need if she’d ever thought about being the best.

She turned back to her apple picker, gripping it tightly. Sure, she didn’t have Apple Bloom’s legs or Applejack’s experience, but she’d prove her worth here, one snagged apple at a time. She hoisted the tool, hooking another apple and placing it neatly in the basket below.

Applejack, watching from the corner of her eye, gave a small nod of approval. “That’s the spirit, Aurora. Keep at it, and you’ll be clearin’ these trees in no time.”

Amelia nodded, determination settling in. One day, I’ll have strength like that… maybe not for apple trees, but for that goalpost. For now, though, the apples were calling.

As Amelia moved from tree to tree, carefully using her picker tool to snag apples while Applejack transported the filled baskets, she found her attention drifting away from the task. The rhythm of the work was steady, but her mind wasn’t fully in it. Every so often, her gaze wandered toward the Toffees’ training ground, visible just beyond the orchard.

The pitch looked simple yet inviting under the sun. The astroturf gleamed, the white lines stood sharp and bright, and though it lacked the bells and whistles of professional facilities, it carried a humble charm. A patch of grass with lines, two goals, and some cones—it was everything you really needed for hoofball.

Amelia paused, leaning on her picker tool as she noticed movement on the pitch. Three figures darted around, their energy catching her eye. One, taller and more muscular, had possession of the ball, skilfully evading the other two smaller figures who were trying desperately to take it away. Intrigued, Amelia squinted, and as the players came into focus, she recognised them.

The two smaller figures were Marble and Stonehoof, Scootaloo’s younger siblings, and the larger one effortlessly dodging them was Scootaloo herself.

“What the…” Amelia muttered, standing up straight. Her brows furrowed. What are they doing on Applejack’s orchard? And why are they on the pitch?

Applejack, noticing her distraction, trotted over with a knowing look. “Somethin’ catchin’ yer eye, sugarcube?”

Amelia gestured toward the field. “Is that Scootaloo? And her siblings? What are they doing here?”

Applejack followed her gaze and let out a small sigh. “Oh, right. Scootaloo and the twins are stayin’ with me for now. Their place is still under investigation, and it’ll take a bit to get it fixed up. Figured it was the neighborly thing to do, givin’ them a safe spot to lay low.”

Amelia blinked, surprised. “They’re staying with you? And she’s… just out here practicing like nothing’s happened?”

Applejack shrugged. “Scootaloo’s tough. She probably needs somethin’ normal to hold onto right now, even if it’s just kickin’ a ball around with her siblings. It ain’t a perfect way to deal with things, but it’s how she’s copin’.”

Amelia turned her attention back to the field. Scootaloo darted between her siblings with ease, flicking the ball over Stonehoof’s head before sprinting toward the goal. Marble and Stonehoof chased after her, laughing, but Scootaloo was clearly holding her own. She scored with a clean shot, throwing her fist in the air triumphantly.

“I mean, I get that.” Amelia said, frowning slightly. “But it still feels… weird. Like, she’s acting like everything’s fine, but nothing about this is fine.”

Applejack adjusted her hat, her voice calm but firm. “Sometimes ponies act like things are fine ‘cause they don’t wanna face what’s not. Don’t mean it’s right, but it’s what she’s doin’. And for now, she’s got her siblings safe and sound, which is what matters most.”

Amelia nodded, though her frustration lingered. She watched Scootaloo ruffle Marble’s mane as the filly grinned up at her, then tease Stonehoof by dribbling the ball out of his reach. They seemed so at ease, so carefree, as if the chaos of the past few days hadn’t even touched them.

Applejack nudged her gently, breaking her focus. “Come on now, we’ve got work to do. If ya wanna talk to her, you can do it after the job’s done.”

Reluctantly, Amelia picked up her tool and moved to the next tree, though her thoughts stayed on Scootaloo. She couldn’t shake the image of her rival and the twins on the pitch, the contrast between their lighthearted play and the seriousness of what had happened at their home gnawing at her. There’s more to this, Amelia thought, but for now, the work came first.

As the sun rose higher, Amelia moved to the next tree, snagging apples with her picker tool while coincidentally Apple Bloom checked her clipboard and carried baskets next to Amelia. She couldn’t help but let her gaze drift back toward the Toffees’ training pitch. Scootaloo and her siblings were still out there, the older filly weaving effortlessly past the twins as they tried to steal the ball from her. The sight left a bitter knot in Amelia’s stomach. She couldn’t stop thinking about Scootaloo—her guarded nature, her aloof attitude, and the mystery surrounding her life.

Amelia finally broke the silence. “Hey, Apple Bloom?”

“Yeah?” Apple Bloom replied without looking up from her clipboard, scribbling something down before setting it aside.

“What’s Scootaloo’s story?” Amelia asked, her tone cautious but curious. “I mean, I’ve seen her around, obviously, but I don’t really know her. What’s her deal?”

Apple Bloom paused, frowning thoughtfully. “That’s… a tough one.” she admitted, leaning against a nearby tree. “Scoots is a bit of a mystery, even to me. We’re friends, I guess, but barely. She don’t open up much—not to me, anyway.”

Amelia tilted her head, surprised. “Really? But you’ve known her for a while, haven’t you?”

“Sure, we go way back, but she’s always been kinda… private.” Apple Bloom said, adjusting her bow absentmindedly. “She talks to Applejack more than she talks to me. Guess she trusts her more or somethin’. Scoots can be stubborn like that.”

Amelia crossed her arms, leaning on the picker tool. “So you don’t really know much about her?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Not really. I know she’s got her siblings to look after, and I know she works harder than anypony I’ve seen to keep things together. But as for her past? Why she’s the way she is? I couldn’t tell ya. She don’t let a lotta ponies in.”

Amelia sighed, frustration creeping into her voice. “She just acts like she doesn’t need anypony. It’s like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she won’t let anypony help.”

“Yeah, that’s Scootaloo for ya.” Apple Bloom said with a wry smile. “She don’t like bein’ vulnerable. Sometimes I think it’s ‘cause she’s worried about how ponies’ll see her. Like, if she shows she’s strugglin’, it makes her weak or somethin’.”

“That’s… exhausting.” Amelia muttered, glancing toward the pitch again. Scootaloo was now juggling the ball with her hind legs, laughing as Stonehoof tried and failed to knock it away. “She’s got all this going on, but she’s out there playing like nothing’s wrong.”

Apple Bloom followed her gaze and shrugged. “Sometimes playin’ hoofball is how she deals with stuff. Helps her feel normal, I reckon.”

“Still.” Amelia pressed, her voice quieter now. “Don’t you think she’d be better off if she just… talked to somepony? Let somepony in?”

Apple Bloom smiled softly, placing a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “Maybe. But Scoots’ll talk when she’s ready. Ya just gotta be patient with her. For now, she’s doin’ what she can to get by, and sometimes, that’s all anypony can do.”

Amelia nodded, though the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. She picked up her tool and went back to work, but her thoughts lingered on Scootaloo. Why does she make it so hard for anyone to get close? And what’s really going on in her life?

Apple Bloom’s words helped, but they only made Amelia more curious. Maybe it wasn’t her place to dig deeper, but the questions were there now, and Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t adding up.

---

The porch creaked faintly as Amelia settled onto the steps, her lunch spread out beside her in a small, neat arrangement. A simple sandwich, a bottle of water, and a handful of sliced carrots stared back at her as she chewed absentmindedly, her thoughts elsewhere. Scootaloo. Scootaloo. Scootaloo. The name ran circles in her mind, refusing to leave, like a bitter aftertaste she couldn’t rinse away.

Her dislike of the cocky filly had morphed into something else entirely—curiosity and concern. Scootaloo was just a kid, yet she carried herself like the weight of the world was her responsibility alone. Amelia stared down at her sandwich, turning it over in her hands. She hated admitting it, but Scootaloo needed help. She couldn’t handle all of this by herself, no matter how tough she acted.

Amelia sighed, biting into the sandwich. If she wanted to help, she’d have to find a way in. She’d have to earn Scootaloo’s trust, maybe even her respect. But how? Scootaloo didn’t seem like the type to let anyone close without a fight. Start small, Amelia thought. But what’s ‘small’ with her?

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of steps on the porch. Amelia glanced up just in time to see Minuette plop down beside her, setting her own lunch on her lap with practiced nonchalance. Amelia nearly choked on her bite, caught off guard. Minuette, of all ponies, had been the last one she expected to sit with.

Minuette unscrewed the lid of a water bottle, her face as blank and unimpressed as always. She took a long drink before speaking, her voice low and matter-of-fact. “Eres todo de lo que habla Applejack.” She glanced at Amelia sideways, her dark blue eyes sharp but neutral. “All hoofball. She says you’re her little project, you know?”

Amelia blinked, still chewing, unsure how to respond. Minuette continued, not waiting for a reply.

“Es un buen proyecto, though.” she said, poking at her sandwich lazily. “You’re good, chica. Young, but good. Applejack says she’s excited to work on you. Fix you up.”

Amelia finally swallowed, her mouth dry. “Fix me up?” she repeated, unsure if she should feel insulted or complimented.

Minuette shrugged, her bland tone making it hard to tell if she cared either way. “You got potential. Big word, huh? Potential. But ya need work. The way you moved on the field with us Toffees… not bad. Impressive, even. For your age.”

Amelia stared at her, unsure what to make of the unexpected praise. Minuette wasn’t exactly the type to hand out compliments, even backhanded ones. She fidgeted with her water bottle, realizing this was probably her only chance to address the incident.

“Uh, Minuette.” Amelia began hesitantly, “about that time I… barged into your house while you were, um… in the shower. I didn’t mean—”

“No fue nada.” Minuette interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. “No puedo guardar rencor. Grudge? I don’t hold one. Some filly made a mistake. Who cares? You’re lucky I wasn’t late for hoofball practice, though.”

Amelia exhaled, surprised by how easily Minuette brushed it off. “Still, I’m sorry. It was stupid of me.”

Minuette took another sip of water, not even looking at her. “Sí, it was stupid.” she said plainly, then added, “But it’s over. You’re a filly. Move on, huh?”

Amelia nodded slowly, a little stunned by Minuette’s bluntness. The older mare didn’t offer much more in terms of conversation, quietly munching on her sandwich as if she hadn’t just dismantled the tension in Amelia’s chest with a few casual sentences.

As they sat in silence, Amelia glanced at her sandwich, her thoughts returning to Scootaloo. Maybe gaining trust didn’t have to be as hard as she thought. Maybe, sometimes, the hardest part was just starting. And maybe, just maybe, Scootaloo wasn’t so different from Minuette—blunt, intense, and far more complex than she let on.

Feeling a little more confident after Minuette’s nonchalant dismissal of her apology, Amelia took a sip of her water and decided to push her luck with some small talk. She turned slightly toward Minuette, who was still focused on her sandwich, and said, “By the way, I saw your game against Garibaldi. That was… intense.”

Minuette’s ear twitched, but her expression didn’t change. “Hmm.”

Amelia pressed on, hoping to get a reaction. “Your defense was solid, though. I mean, I get why you fouled their striker and took the red card. If you hadn’t, they would’ve gone 2-0 up for sure.”

Minuette finally glanced at her, her dark blue eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing whether Amelia was being genuine. After a pause, she took another sip of her water and said, “Sí. I fouled her. Red card? Worth it.”

Amelia blinked, surprised by how easily Minuette brushed off what most players would consider a disaster. “Really? You don’t regret it at all?”

Minuette set her bottle down, her tone flat but unwavering. “Regret? No. I would fight for this team. If that means getting a red card, so be it. Garibaldi does not get to score.”

Amelia found herself staring at the older mare, equal parts impressed and intimidated. There was no hesitation in Minuette’s words, no trace of self-doubt. It was as though she’d already decided long ago that anything was justifiable if it meant protecting her team.

“That’s… committed.” Amelia said, not quite sure what else to say.

“Es lo que hacemos.” Minuette replied simply, brushing a crumb off her lap. “You protect what matters. You learn that, chica, you’ll do fine.”

The words hung in the air as Minuette returned to her sandwich, her attention already drifting elsewhere. Amelia, however, couldn’t shake the weight of what she’d just heard. Protect what matters. The sentiment struck a chord, especially with Scootaloo’s siblings popping into her mind.

Maybe Minuette’s bluntness wasn’t just intensity—it was loyalty, plain and simple. Something Amelia couldn’t help but admire.

Minuette had gone quiet, chewing the last bite of her sandwich, when Amelia spoke up again, this time with a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Te entiendo perfectamente, Minuette. Es fácil seguirte cuando hablas así.” Amelia said casually, taking a sip of her water.

(I understand you perfectly, Minuette. It’s easy to follow when you talk like that.)

Minuette froze mid-drink, her sharp blue eyes snapping to Amelia. For the first time since sitting down, there was a flicker of surprise on her usually impassive face. She set her bottle down slowly, as if unsure she’d heard correctly.

“¿Hablas mi idioma?” she asked, her voice flat but laced with curiosity.

(You speak my language?)

Amelia shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “A little. I like learning different languages.” she replied with a grin.

Minuette leaned back slightly, narrowing her eyes at Amelia as though studying her for any sign of insincerity. “¿Eres de las tierras baldías?” she asked, her tone almost accusing.

(Are you from the Badlands?)

Amelia shook her head quickly, holding up her hands. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just like learning. In school, I learned a bit of this language, but… I also practice on my own.”

Minuette raised an eyebrow, her frown returning as though unimpressed. “¿Practicas sola, eh? Bueno. Vamos a ver cuánto sabes.”

(You practice on your own, huh? Fine. Let’s see how much you know.)

Amelia straightened up, her competitive streak kicking in. “Sure, say something.” she challenged.

Minuette crossed her forelegs and leaned back against the porch, clearly testing her. “¿Cómo describirías el último partido que jugaste? Usa tres adjetivos.”

(How would you describe the last match you played? Use three adjectives.)

Amelia blinked, caught off guard by the specificity of the question, but quickly composed herself. “Difícil, emocionante… y agotador.” she said, the words rolling off her tongue carefully but confidently.

(Difficult, exciting… and exhausting.)

Minuette tilted her head slightly, as though weighing the response. “Hm. No está mal.” she said, her tone begrudgingly approving.

(Not bad.)

Amelia couldn’t help but smirk, feeling a small victory in her chest. “Thank you.”

Minuette paused, then leaned in slightly, her sharp gaze locking onto Amelia’s. “¿Qué haces cuando fallas? Responde sin pensar.”

(What do you do when you fail? Answer without thinking.)

The question hit harder than Amelia expected, but she didn’t hesitate. “Aprendo.”

(I learn.)

Minuette’s eyes lingered on her for a long moment before she gave a single nod. “Bien. No eres mala. Sigue practicando.”

(Good. You’re not bad. Keep practicing.)

And just like that, Minuette returned to drinking her water as though nothing had happened, but Amelia noticed the faintest hint of respect in her expression. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. A small one. Minuette wasn’t bad after all.

---

The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, casting long streaks of golden light across Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack wiped her brow with a satisfied sigh, another row of apple trees cleared. The peace of the orchard was interrupted, however, by the sound of footsteps on the dirt path. She turned and raised an eyebrow as Grind Duster strolled toward her, sharp and composed as always, with that unmistakable air of quiet authority about him.

His pinstriped coat looked almost out of place among the trees, and the faint curl of smoke from the cigarette in his mouth gave him an almost theatrical look. Applejack smirked, leaning on a nearby basket of apples. “Well, well. Back already? Don’t tell me you’re here to get your hands dirty.”

Grind smirked faintly, pulling the cigarette from his lips with a flick of his fingers. “Not quite, AJ. I was hopin’ you’d take a walk with me. Got somethin’ to discuss.”

Applejack tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “Alright, let’s walk, then. I’m listenin’.”

The two fell into step, moving along the dirt paths between rows of trees. Applejack glanced at him as he pulled a small, well-worn flip notebook from the inside pocket of his coat, holding it steady as he flicked it open with practiced ease.

“You heard of a player called Nocturne?” Grind asked, his tone even, though there was a spark of intrigue in his golden eyes.

Applejack furrowed her brow. “Nocturne… yeah, I’ve heard of him. He’s with The Crows, ain’t he? Good player, versatile. CAM and centre forward, if I remember right. Why?”

Grind gave a small nod, tapping the notebook with his finger as he flipped to a page filled with tight, organised notes and a few scribbled diagrams. “That’s the one. Unicorn, 25 years old, around 180 centimetres tall. Left-footed. Calm under pressure, decisive passer, and he’s got an accurate long shot on him. He’s comin’ to the end of his contract with The Crows.”

Applejack’s ears perked up at that. “End of his contract? So he’s free?”

Grind’s smirk returned. “That’s the beauty of it. I could bring him in for free, but we need to move quick. Other clubs have their eyes on him, and if we wait, we’ll lose him to a bigger purse.”

Applejack nodded, considering it. “I ain’t surprised. Nocturne’s no slouch, that’s for sure. You’re sayin’ you want to sign him?”

Grind held the notebook up, showing Applejack his scribbled analysis: formations, player tendencies, and even brief match stats. “He’d be depth at the very least, maybe even a starter if he proves himself. Thunderlane’s in good form, sure, but we both know what happens when you rely on one player for too long. Thunderlane’s had his fair share of injuries. Nocturne could step up when needed—or give Thunderlane some much-needed competition to keep him sharp.”

Applejack scratched her chin, walking alongside him in thought. “Thunderlane’s been flyin’ this season, but you ain’t wrong. Nothin’ like a little competition to push a player to their best. And if Nocturne’s as good as you say, he’d fit right in.”

Grind tucked the notebook back into his coat, his golden eyes sharp and calculating. “He’s the kind of player who can pull the strings from midfield or step up to finish when it counts. I’ve watched him—closely. He’s got the talent. What he needs is the right team.”

“And you think that team’s the Toffees?” Applejack asked, glancing at him with a small smile.

Grind met her gaze, his tone confident. “I know it is. Your trying to build somethin’ special, AJ, I can see that much. This isn’t just about this season. It’s about the next, and the one after that. Nocturne’s a piece of that puzzle.”

Applejack chuckled softly. “You always did have a way of convincin’ ponies, Grind. Alright, if you’re askin’ me if I think he’s worth it? I do. But you’ll have to move fast. You ain’t the only one who’s been watchin’ him.”

Grind smirked, the cigarette glowing faintly as he took one last drag. “Oh, I’ll move fast. I’ve already got things in motion. Just thought you’d wanna know where things are headin’.”

Applejack nodded, satisfied. “Well, if you can get him, I’ll be lookin’ forward to seein’ what he brings to the team. I trust your eye for talent, Grind.”

Grind nodded, reaching into his coat pocket, pulling out a small silver case, flicking it open with a smooth motion. He held it toward Applejack, offering her a cigarette without a word. Applejack glanced at him with a smirk, but she didn’t refuse.

“Ya know I only smoke when you’re around.” she said, taking one between her teeth.

“Which is why you’re still kickin’.” Grind replied dryly, flicking the lighter alive and lighting hers first before his own. The flame flared briefly before he shook it out, tucking the case away.

They came to a stop, a familiar spot that they come to talk, the same spot that both Grind Duster and Applejack was when they first spoke about Aurora. Applejack leaned back against the sturdy trunk of an old apple tree, the bark pressing comfortably into her shoulders as she took a slow drag. The smoke curled lazily in front of her face before the wind carried it away. Grind settled beside her, his posture relaxed but his golden eyes still sharp, always watching.

“How’s the missus?” Applejack asked after a beat, her tone casual but genuine. “And the foals? They keepin’ ya busy?”

Grind exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his expression softening just slightly at the mention of his family. “Busy enough. The foals are gettin’ big, AJ. My oldest is already kickin’ a ball around the backyard like he’s destined for the league.” He paused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The little one? She’s trouble. Runs circles around me and doesn’t quit.”

Applejack chuckled. “That’s what happens when they take after their daddy. Nothin’ but attitude and fire.”

Grind smirked, glancing at her sidelong. “You sayin’ I’m trouble, AJ?”

She grinned back. “You know it. Always have been.” She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll off her lips slowly as her eyes drifted toward the horizon. Below them, the Toffees’ training ground stretched out, the green of the astroturf shining in the late afternoon sun. The three figures she’d noticed earlier—Scootaloo and her siblings—were still playing, their energy unfailing.

Grind followed her gaze, the glow of his cigarette faint as he took a drag. “Scootaloo’s out there again.” he remarked, his tone casual but laced with an undertone of curiosity. “She doesn’t know when to stop.”

Applejack nodded slowly, watching as Scootaloo weaved around her siblings, ball at her feet, effortlessly confident. “That filly’s got grit, no doubt about it.”

“Grit’s good.” Grind replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But grit burns ponies out if they don’t pace themselves.”

Applejack shot him a glance. “That from experience?”

Grind shrugged, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. “Maybe. Scootaloo’s good. Real good. But she’s pushin’ herself too hard. Just somethin’ I noticed.” He paused for a moment before turning his attention back to Applejack. “And you? How’s Apple Bloom holdin’ up? Still chasin’ her own dreams?”

Applejack smiled softly, pride evident in her tone. “She’s doin’ great. Workin’ hard, same as always. She’s stubborn, though, working both as fitness coach and a tactician. Wants to prove herself every step of the way—sound familiar?”

Grind huffed, a low sound of agreement, the corners of his mouth curling faintly. “Apple family trait, I guess.”

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a while, the steady rhythm of the orchard surrounding them. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves overhead.

After a moment, she spoke, her tone thoughtful. “Y’know, Grind… you’re always lookin’ at the future. Searchin’ for players, puttin’ together plans for seasons down the line. Sometimes I wonder if that’s a burden on ya and yer family.

Grind didn’t respond immediately. He flicked the last of his cigarette away, watching it smolder briefly in the dirt before he stamped it out. “It’s not a burden.” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “It’s just what I do. Everypony’s got a role, AJ. This one’s mine.”

Applejack nodded, watching as he leaned back against the tree, his sharp gaze once again lingering on the training ground. It was moments like these—quiet, honest—that reminded her why she trusted Grind so much. He might carry himself like a no-nonsense stallion with no time for sentiment, but underneath it all, he was as loyal as they came.

Applejack leaned back against the thick trunk of the apple tree, the shade offering a much-needed reprieve from the sun’s relentless glare. She stubbed out the remains of her cigarette against the dirt and set it aside, exhaling the last curl of smoke into the breeze. Grind Duster sat beside her, legs crossed, looking as sharp and composed as ever despite the rural setting.

“You know, Grind.” Applejack started, adjusting her hat and glancing at him from the corner of her eye, “ya don’t have to rush off just yet. Once I’m done buckin’ these last trees, I’m havin’ a sit-down with Aurora.”

Grind’s ears flicked, though his face betrayed little emotion. “Aurora, huh? Still not signed her yet?”

“Not yet.” Applejack admitted. “Still got a few things to talk over with her. She’s a talented one, but there’s some stuff that needs clearin’ up.” She tilted her head toward him, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Figured you might stick around, lend a hand. You bein’ a former goalkeeper and all. You could give her some advice.”

Grind shook his head almost immediately, his usual smirk edging closer to a grimace. “No can do, AJ. I’ve got places to be. Besides, I still don’t think Aurora’s got what it takes to be a keeper. Not yet.”

Applejack sighed, her tone turning good-natured but firm. “We’ve talked about this already, Grind. She ain’t nothin’ to sneeze at.”

Grind’s golden eyes flickered toward her, sharp and skeptical. “She’s got talent. I won’t argue that. But I still think she’s wasted potential between the sticks. She’s better suited further up the pitch, where her speed can make a difference. You don’t waste speed like hers on shot-stopping.”

“You say ‘waste,’ I say ‘opportunity.’” Applejack crossed her forelegs as she leaned back, meeting Grind’s gaze evenly. “She’s strong where it counts—agility, decision-makin’, and she’s got a competitive streak. Those things matter for a keeper. If I see somethin’ in her, I’m gonna work with it.”

Grind sighed through his nose, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one.” Applejack shot back, grinning slightly.

Grind shook his head, though there was the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you if she cracks under pressure. Keepers need to be calm—stoic, even. Doesn’t matter how quick you are if you can’t hold the line.”

Applejack smirked, brushing her hat back with one hand. “I reckon that’s why she needs the right coachin’. Everypony starts somewhere, Grind.”

Grind took a final glance out at the orchard, his gaze distant for a brief moment. Then, with a subtle stretch, he pushed himself up to his feet. “Well, you know my thoughts. I’d stay and argue more, but I’ve got ponies to see and calls to make.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow as she stood, brushing some dirt off her shoulder. “Suit yourself. But don’t think this conversation’s over. You might be the Toffees’ director, but I know potential when I see it.”

Grind snorted softly. “I’ll believe it when I see it on the pitch.” He turned to leave, his footsteps slow and deliberate as always. Before stepping fully out of the shade, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Good luck with your chat, AJ. You’re gonna need it.”

Applejack grinned, her confidence unwavering. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Grind.”

He smirked faintly, tipped his cap in her direction, and then continued on his way, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air as he disappeared down the dirt path. Applejack watched him go before turning back to the trees, her mind already turning over what she wanted to say to Aurora.

“Wasted potential, huh?” she muttered to herself, shaking her head with a small smile. “We’ll just see about that.”

---

The afternoon sun hung lower in the sky, casting long golden rays across the orchard. Derpy Hooves worked quietly, picker tool in hand, tugging apples down one by one. Her wings twitched every now and then, as though itching to fly up and make things quicker, but she resisted the urge. Apple Bloom had been clear—“stick with the picker so ya don’t hurt yerself, Derpy”—and the last thing she wanted was to make a mess of things. Again.

I wish I wasn’t so clumsy, Derpy thought, biting her lip as she snagged another apple and carefully lowered it into the basket. I wish I could be reliable for once.

Nearby, Apple Bloom bucked another tree with practiced ease. A crisp thwack echoed through the orchard as the apples tumbled perfectly into the baskets below. She adjusted her bow and wiped her forehead before glancing over at Derpy, who was still fussing with one particularly stubborn apple.

“Don’t fret, Derpy.” Apple Bloom called encouragingly, trotting over to lend a hand. “We’re almost done for the day. Just a few more crates and we can call it quits.”

Derpy blinked up at her with those mismatched golden eyes, letting out a small, sheepish sigh. “You’re so good at this, Apple Bloom. I just feel… slow.”

Apple Bloom waved her off with a friendly smile. “Don’t go thinkin’ that. You’re doin’ just fine. Not everypony’s gotta buck trees. That picker’s mighty useful, and you’re bein’ careful with it. Sometimes slow and steady’s the way to go.”

Derpy smiled faintly at the encouragement, though it didn’t fully erase the doubt in her mind. She watched Apple Bloom trot over to another tree and give it a solid buck, sending a new cascade of apples into the waiting baskets with a satisfying thud. It looked so easy for her—powerful, practiced, and efficient. Derpy looked back down at her picker and sighed quietly, her wings drooping ever so slightly.

Apple Bloom, noticing the look, paused as she carried a crate toward the cart. “Hey now, chin up.” she said with a nudge of her head. “Everypony’s got their way of doin’ things, Derpy. We’re makin’ good progress ‘cause you’re helpin’, don’t forget that.”

Derpy perked up a little at that, though she still tugged a bit too hard on an apple, nearly toppling over as it popped free. She steadied herself quickly, cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Apple Bloom. I just… wanna help. I want to be useful.”

“You are useful, you showed up when the majority didn’t, that counts for somethin’ ya know.” Apple Bloom said firmly, walking back over to pick up a basket of apples.

As Derpy worked, the sound of Apple Bloom bucking trees filled the orchard, steady and rhythmic, a sound of pure efficiency. In contrast, Derpy’s own efforts felt clumsy and slow. The picker tool rattled in her grip as she tugged carefully at another apple, afraid of pulling too hard or dropping it.

Why can’t I just be like them? she thought to herself, her mismatched eyes narrowing slightly as she focused on the apple. Apple Bloom makes it look so easy. Aurora’s out here working hard. Even Minuette, grumpy as she is, gets everything done perfectly. And me? I’m…

The apple finally popped free, and Derpy nearly lost her balance again, catching herself just before she stumbled. I’m just Derpy. Ponyville’s mailmare. The clumsy one. The pony who always makes a mess of things.

She set the apple in the basket gently, pausing as her wings drooped at her sides. Why does it always feel like I’m getting in the way? Even Apple Bloom had to tell me not to use my wings. I thought flying up to get the apples would make me faster, but no. I just end up bumping into branches, knocking things over, or falling out of the air. Every time I try to be helpful, it’s like I mess something up instead.

Her golden eyes glanced toward Apple Bloom, who was already moving on to another tree, focused and precise, not a single movement wasted. It only made the pit in Derpy’s stomach grow deeper. I just want to be reliable. I want ponies to look at me and think, ‘Derpy can handle this.’ But no matter what I do, I’m always… me.

The thought stung, and she forced herself to shake it off, gripping the picker tighter as she reached for another apple. No. Stop it, Derpy. Apple Bloom said you’re helping. You just have to finish the job. Don’t mess up. Don’t trip. Don’t break anything. You can do this.

But even as she worked, a familiar shadow of doubt lingered in her chest, whispering that no matter how hard she tried, she’d never quite be enough.

Derpy reached for another apple, her motions slow and deliberate as she tried to tune out the sound of Apple Bloom bucking the trees nearby. The familiar thud of apples hitting baskets filled the orchard, a quiet contrast to her own nervous fumbling with the picker. She focused hard on the next apple, determined not to drop it.

That’s when her ears twitched. Footsteps approached from the path, and Derpy glanced up just in time to see Aurora arriving. From where Derpy stood, a short distance away, she watched Aurora stroll up behind Apple Bloom, grin mischievously, and wrap her arms around her friend in an unexpected hug.

“Woah there!” Apple Bloom yelped, nearly dropping her clipboard, before realizing who it was. “Aurora! What in tarnation are ya doin’ sneakin’ up like that?”

Aurora just laughed softly, resting her chin on Apple Bloom’s shoulder. From this distance, Derpy couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could see the way Aurora’s energy seemed to brighten Apple Bloom’s tired expression, even for just a moment. The two of them stood there chatting—casual, natural—like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Derpy turned back to her picker tool, but her movements slowed, her thoughts wandering. Aurora. She’d met her before, though not in the way most ponies might expect.

The Reds. The game against the Reds.

The memory rose unbidden, sharp and clear, like it had only happened yesterday. Sweet Celestia, what a miserable day that had been. A 3-0 loss at home. Fans had started leaving the stands before the final whistle even blew. The ones who stayed? They booed. Derpy could still hear it—sharp, jeering sounds that cut through her like a blade.

She’d been the striker that day. She knew she wasn’t good enough. Not at that level. Every time she touched the ball, it seemed to roll away from her like it was mocking her. She’d missed chances, mistimed runs. Useless. That’s what she’d been. Useless.

By the time the whistle finally came, she’d wanted nothing more than to disappear. As she walked off the pitch and down the tunnel, head hung low, the angry murmurs of fans and the jabbed fingers pointing blame at her clung to her like thick smoke. “She shouldn’t even be on the team.” “Derpy missed everything.” “What’s she even doing out there?”

The self-blame had come easy because it felt true. I let everypony down. I don’t deserve to be here.

But then… there was that one voice. That one pony. Derpy could still see her, clear as day—Aurora. A sky-blue pegasus standing near the tunnel railing, her bright eyes wide with excitement and hope. She hadn’t been jeering or booing. She hadn’t even looked disappointed.

Instead, Aurora had been holding out a pen and paper, her expression eager and kind. “Miss Derpy! Can you sign this, please?”

Derpy had almost stumbled in her tracks, unsure she’d even heard correctly. Of all the players to ask, Aurora had picked her. Her, the one everypony was blaming. Her, the one who didn’t play well. She’d paused for a moment, confused, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. But she’d signed it anyway—her name scribbled clumsily on the paper with trembling hands.

Despite everything, that moment had stuck with her. Not everypony hated me that day, she thought, staring blankly at the apple she’d just picked. Aurora’s excitement had been real, her smile sincere. It hadn’t erased the sting of the game, but it had dulled it—just a little. Enough for Derpy to make it to the locker room without breaking down completely.

She sighed, shaking herself out of the memory, her eyes flickering back to where Aurora and Apple Bloom were talking. Aurora laughed again, carefree and relaxed, as if she didn’t have a single doubt in her mind.

Derpy looked back down at the apple in her hands, her shoulders slumping slightly. I wish I could be like that. Confident. Capable. Somepony who ponies actually want around. She squeezed the apple a little too hard before setting it carefully into the basket. The weight of her own thoughts dragged at her, the same doubts looping endlessly in her mind.

It doesn’t matter if Aurora asked for my autograph. It doesn’t matter if she smiled. I was still useless that day. I still let everypony down.

Her gaze drifted back toward Aurora once more, lingering for just a moment longer before she turned back to her work. Derpy forced herself to focus on the next apple, though the bitterness in her chest sat heavy, stubbornly refusing to fade.

Derpy kept her head down, focusing on the apple in front of her as though it required every ounce of her attention. The afternoon was quiet save for the occasional thud of Apple Bloom bucking trees nearby. The steady rhythm helped keep her distracted, at least for a little while.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped her out of it. Derpy straightened slightly, turning just in time to see Aurora walking toward her. The young pegasus carried her usual casual energy, a faint smirk on her lips, her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. Even after hours of work, she somehow still had that spark to her.
“Hey, Derpy.” Aurora said, her tone light but tinged with genuine concern. “How’s it going? You doing okay?”

Derpy’s grip tightened on the picker tool as the question landed, her stomach twisting. You doing okay. The words echoed in her mind, heavy with meaning. For a brief moment, Derpy felt the mask of calm she wore slip, the raw weight of her doubts threatening to crack through. But no. She couldn’t let that happen. Not now.

She forced a smile, pulling her lips up into a curve that felt too practiced, too familiar—her default defence. “Oh, I’m fine.” she said quickly, the words coming out softer than she intended. She gave a small nod, as though that might convince Aurora further. “Just… picking apples. Almost done.”

Aurora tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying her carefully. “You sure? You seem kinda…” She trailed off, her gaze lingering for just a moment too long.

Derpy felt her heart hammer in her chest. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t ask. She quickly turned back to the tree, forcing another apple loose with a firm tug of the picker. She plastered on another smile, hoping it would stick this time. “Really, I’m okay. Just a little tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.”

Aurora hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but eventually nodded. “Alright.” she said slowly, though the concern didn’t leave her face. “Well, let me know if you need anything, okay? You’re doing great.”

Derpy’s forced smile twitched. Doing great. She almost winced at the words. Aurora didn’t mean anything by it, but it hit a little too close to home—because I’m not doing great, not really.

“Thanks.” Derpy replied softly, not trusting herself to say much more.

Aurora lingered for a moment longer, as if waiting for Derpy to say something else. When she didn’t, Aurora gave her a small smile and turned back toward Apple Bloom, leaving Derpy alone with the apple tree once more.

As Aurora walked away, Derpy let the smile fall just slightly, her shoulders sagging as soon as the other pony’s back was turned. She stared at the apples in her basket, her golden eyes distant. I’m fine, she repeated in her head, like a mantra she didn’t quite believe. I’m always fine.

Her feet felt heavy as she reached for the next apple, her movements slower now, quieter. The mask was back in place, but underneath it, the doubts still whispered. As long as nopony sees it, it doesn’t matter.

Author's Note:

Shout out to Norwegian Boy for letting me borrow his character design of Silver Steel, he’s one of many to help with character creation.

Comments

[Norwegian boy]

Poor Derpy.