> We'll Meet Again
>  by unipie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter One: Baby Steps
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


We'll Meet Again
By
littlepiegirl






Chapter One: Baby Steps







Why must I be here? 

Of all the places to intentionally abandon your daughter for a set period of time – this was the only fitting solution? Whoever owned the place didn’t have ounce of style – or a duster for that matter. It was positively suffocating. Coughing on years of grime however, didn’t discourage me from the fact that the curtains didn’t go with the wallpaper, a picture was askew and don’t even mention the potential germs I could’ve caught from that old sofa. Now that I think about it, the dust tired up the room’s look just superbly.

Was Mother punishing me? All I wanted was to see how my new sibling was doing, but no, I was confined to this prison. However, I knew for certain no dashing stallion would come to my aid. Oh, if only. Sadly, I couldn't hear the hoofsteps of my rescuer, but just those of my parents as they were led away by the nurse pony. I’m sure they could still hear my thumps and shouting through the door. 

“Mother, come back. I want to come too!”

I tried to look through the blurred glass pane, but it was too high for me to reach. Jumping a couple of times for good measure was of no use either. I was only a small filly after all. My height was better suited for the small letter box built into the wooden door. Poking my mussel out, I called for her again. As I looked through my new peep hole, she turned down the hallway, not giving me even a sideways glace. Thanks Mother, so caring as usual. I called again. 

Nopony answered – just silence. 

“Will ya pipe down? I’m tryin' t' read my mags.” The pony in the reception to the left shouted at me.

She was plump with a green coat and red mane. The mare’s eyes were narrow and menacing through her red glasses, as she stared. I gazed back for a moment before diverting my eyes. Nervous, I proceeded to walk further into the room, only glancing back at the magazine the receptionist was reading.

I recognised the actor stallion on the cover from the soap operas my mother liked. Only last week was he in a loving relationship, before then running off with another mare. Mother liked those kinds of stories. I didn't particularly. I much preferred it when the mare and stallion lived happily-ever-after. 

Walking in, I saw the room was a lot larger than I first thought. Collections of toys and games were piled high all around, like a plastic jungle. The carpet was unseen by a toy blanket, so I trod lightly, trying not to trip. At the back of the room was a soft play area complete with a slide. Although the colours and different fabrics tempted me, I wasn’t one for “physical” play time. I was more of a, say we say, creative mind.

Since I was the only filly present, I had pick of the toys. I scanned round for a sewing machine or even a place to draw, but in the sea of alphabet blocks and sound phones it was hard to find a simple pencil and paper. I searched in a couple of piles, kicking away toys as I went, but nothing struck me as interesting. Defeated, I sighed, heading over to a beanbag in the far corner. I could just take a nap. 

My spirits were soon lifted, as my chosen nap spot was accompanied by a small, hidden, reading area. I clopped my hooves in delight and approached, trying not to topple a game tower or two. Perhaps I could read a wonderful fairy tale or romance novel until my mother returned. Oh, how I hoped they had the one about the mare with the long, flowing mane that got rescued from the tower. Mareunzel? I couldn't remember the name exactly.

Reaching the book case, I started to examine the hundreds of novels. Dazzled by the volume of sections and authors; I had no idea where to look. Mother usually bought my books. In confusion, I placed a hoof to my chin and my eyes followed to the top shelf. Then, I saw one with a charming pink spine and stood back to get a closer look. 

No surprise that I became overwhelmed with despair when my poor magic skills were unable to lift it down. I tried again, but only the tiniest, blue spark flickered from my horn. I was not good with magic and it irritated me so.  Even unskilled unicorns could use a levitation spell, which I’d never succeeded at. I didn’t even have a cutie mark, and I had no idea what my talent could be. What good is a unicorn that can’t perform magic? At least I always knew it wasn't my talent.  

I stomped my hoof in annoyance, before seeing another book at my height. The Princess and the Pea. What a strange title for a story, I chuckled softly to myself. It said it has a princess, so naturally I presumed I would like it. 

I reached for the blue book and slid it off the shelf. There was a picture of a beautiful mare lying on a dozen mattresses. I gave a wide smile, not at the strangeness of the picture, but at the gorgeous princess in her gown. It made me envious to say the least. 

Looking up for the slightest moment, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. A pair of green eyes were gawking at me through the gap on the shelf. Curse the pony who left a toy cart laying near my hoof. I stumbled backwards, letting out a girlish squeak in shock. Not only tripping on that accursed toy cart, but also falling into a ridiculously high stack of board games.

I went on to be battered and prodded as games continued to cascade down on me. I tried to get up, but the weight of my saddlebags, plus the games, ensured I was pinned down. At times like these, I wish I wasn’t such a wimpy, small filly. Seeing only darkness, I started flailing my hoofs in an attempt to remove the debris. Just as I was about to scream for help, I was cut off by a comforting voice with a strange accent. 

“Sweet apple sauce! Don’t worry I’ll getcha outta there,” it said. 

I felt a hoof locking with mine, pulling me from my impending, cardboard doom. When finally upright, I rubbed my eyes to reveal my saviour. It was filly about my age with an orange coat and the most beautiful blonde mane. Well, it had the potential to be beautiful, if she had not had it in a pony tail. What a crime against fabulosity! 

“I’m awful sorry. Didn’t mean t’ scare ya,” whimpered the filly. I was still in a complete daze and just stared at her for longer than I should. Say something Rarity!

“Oh… It’s quite alright. I didn’t realise somepony else was in here,” I croaked, kicking away that ruddy toy cart. I bet that display had looked "elegant". 

“Well, I was jus’ sittin’ here readin'.” She began, as I looked at her small book fortress. “That’s why I was bein' all quiet like.” 

“You like to read too?” I whinnied in delight. Not many of my friends liked reading. Not that I had many friends to begin with. Hopefully, she liked fairy tales like me. She shrugged, turning back towards her book. Sheepishly, I followed.

“Not really, but I do like this here story.” She pointed to the page she was reading. A dashing earth stallion, wearing what appeared to be boots, a duster coat and a Stetson hat was shown standing in the middle of a dusty town. “Buck Eastwood.”

“Buck Eastwood? I’ve never heard of it unfortunately,” I answered looking puzzled, but curious.  

“It’s an adventure story bout’ a sheriff that lives in the west. It’s real excitin’.” I just nodded along as the filly shared her love for the literary character. “What’s best is that it’s all adventure, not o’ that lovey stuff.”

I frowned. “What’s wrong with a bit of romance?” I guess she didn’t respect the classics like Mareunzel. 

“Oh, nothin’, jus’ they don’t seem real t’ me. Nopony has a romance like that in real life.”

“But …” I went to interject, but then thought about the filly’s remark. When was the last time somepony got rescued from a tower by a wonderful stallion? Never. I guess I always liked to have my head in the clouds. 

“I suppose you’re right, but it does happen to some ponies. What about your mother and father? I bet they are very much in love?” The filly grinned at me and I smiled awkwardly back.

“Well, of course they are. They’re havin’ another baby after all. That’s why I’m waitin’ in here.” She sat down, offering me the beanbag, but I insisted she take it. “I’m gonna get a new brother or sister!”

I lay down next to her. “Really? Mummy is having a baby too,” I gasped, wiggling my hooves in excitement.

“Mummy?” the filly scoffed. Why did I act like such a foal? My eyes widened, as I came to the realisation of my words. 

“M-Mother … Mother, I mean to say –” I tried to hide my blush “– that’s why I’m waiting in this room also. I desperately wanted to go with her, though. However, she’s not due for some time. She’s getting a scan. But, she just left me here in this play room. Just look at it, it’s dreadful!”  

“I know. I heard ya hollerin’ bout' it through the door fourteen times,” she said flatly.

I offered up another smile. I didn’t want her to think I was snooty; clearly I was painting a horrendous first impression.“W-Well, it’s obviously better now that I have your company.”

The filly chuckled kindly. “Thanks. And ya also have the company of ma brother,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Your brother?” The filly pointed towards the soft play area with a hoof. A crimson form was just noticeable, buried in the ball pit sea. The outline of colours raising and falling with the colt’s chest. 

“That’s him there. Can ya believe it? Sleepin’ in a ball pit!” I giggled; obviously the siblings had ongoing feuds. Oh, how I couldn’t wait to have a feud with my new sibling. I know it’s a strange thing to wish for, but I didn’t mind. “I’m kinda glad you’re here too, McIntosh ain’t exactly the most excitin’ company.”

I tried to contain my goddess awful snort as I laughed. How I despised the unladylike habit. 

“That’s kind of you to say, but I’m sure your brother is not bad company at all.” I grinned. “He just looks … tired.” 

The filly's smile wavered into a look of concern. She shifted on the beanbag, making it squelch with a crinkling sound. “Well, we have been in here fer hours. I think somethin’s wrong with my ma. I don’t wanna worry none, but nopony has come t' check on us. Sept’ for that receptionist pony tellin’ us t' 'shut our pie holes.'”

Just thinking of that mare made me grimace. “I know, she isn’t the most forthcoming pony I’ve ever met, that’s for sure,” I said sternly. Placing my reassuring hoof on the filly's shoulder, she smiled weakly. Great, she doesn’t think I’m weird. Thank, Celestia! “I’m sure everything is fine my dear, things always turnout well in the end.”

My efforts to console the orange filly weren’t having the best results. I was probably the last pony she wanted to talk to about the matter. Who would want to receive help from the pony who can’t even find her way out from under a cardboard box? Or several for that matter! 

She eventually replied, “I wanna believe ya. But, I just got this gut feelin’ somethin’ ain’t right.”

“B-but, what does your heart tell you?” I pleaded, moving my hoof to over her chest.  The filly backed away, looking baffled. Perfect, now she really did think I was a cretin. Me and my sappy drivel.

“I-I guess I don’t really think like that,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “But Ma’s tough! She can pull the zap apple cart and Pa’s plough at the same time. Ugh, well, cept’ that one time Granny decided to jump on the back o’ it and …”

Watching the filly talk so fondly of her family was absorbing. It was like all manner of happiness returned upon their mention. Their bond made me realise how envious I was, but also how mind-numbingly dull my own parents were. 

Eat your carrots, Rarity. 

Brush your teeth, Rarity.

Look at my stamp collection, Rarity.

Never, let’s have the whole family over and have fun, Rarity! 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do love them very much so. But there is only so many times one can visit a train museum before wanting to gouge your own eye out with a spoon. After she was done explaining about her Grandmother hopping around in a bunny suit I changed the topic. 

“So, do you have any idea what we can do to past the time?” I asked politely. 

The filly looked around for inspiration. “Hmm, well, ain’t cha’ got somethin’ in your saddle bag?” She pointed a hoof to my side.      

“Oh, yes, I completely forgot.” I blushed, remembering only minutes ago it was a contributor to my near cardboard demise. Mother had packed it for me before leaving for the hospital. I guess it was foreshadowing the fact I was going to be left in this "play room". I should have seen it coming. How gullible.   

Lifting the flap, I looked inside. “Let’s see, well there’s …” Please say mother had packed a nice lunch or a lovely game, or maybe a … wait? “… a Truly Terrific Trains magazine!”

You have got to be kidding me? That’s strike two for you, Mother! 

The filly smirked. “Ugh … fascinating.” 

Oh, for the love of Prance imported silk! I wanted to dig my way into the grubby carpet and pull the lumps over the top. 

“Oh, n-no,” I spluttered. “That’s my father's. How did that get in there?” The uncomfortable laughter wasn’t wining her over. I face-hoofed. I’m sure some cats had less social awkwardness than me. 

Before I could destroy my self-respect further, she spoke again. “Well, if trains don’t bake your cake, how bout’ airplanes?”           

“Excuse me?”  What was the filly was going on about? I was more astounded she hadn’t turned on her hooves and ran for the nearest exit.       

She took the magazine in her hooves, flicking through its many colourful (but extremely boring) pages. “Your pa don’t need this no more, I’m guessin’?”

I shook my head. Celestia, please, that thing needed to be condemned. 

“Perfect.” She smiled, giving me a wink. “Jus’ watch this right here.”

I know that I said that magazine should’ve been destroyed, but I didn’t mean it literally. Giving a forceful yank, the filly ripped one of the pages from its binding. I gave a small “eep” as she started fiddling with the paper. Once she presented her work, I beamed in awe. 

The paper was folded to perfection into the shape of an airplane. Balancing the "plane" in her hoof, she stared towards the play area across from where we stood. With narrowed eyes and a tongue protruding from her mouth, she brought back her hoof and cast it. The plane sailed gracefully across the width of the room, before crashing down near the ball pit. 

“Wow!” I squealed, clopping my hooves in applause. “How did you do that?” 

“You never made a paper airplane before?” she retorted. 

“I guess not,” I whispered. I must have been the least fun filly in the history of Equestria. 

“Here, I’ll show ya. Just rip out this here page an’ I’ll tell ya how t' fold it.” Hesitant, I tore out a page; I beamed as it gave satisfying rip. Yes, take that tedious trains!       

The filly took my hooves in her own, showing me where to fold, before re-enacting her throwing stance. I cast my own plane, but it didn’t fly nearly as far or with as much poise. Spiraling out of control, it slammed against the reception's glass. 

“Whatcha doin’ in there!” the receptionist’s voice growled. Oh, pony feathers. I dipped down behind a tower of games, praying she wouldn’t come out.  

The filly barked a laugh. “Guess ya need t’ work on that aim o’ yours.” She took another page in her hoof. “Watch this,” she giggled. 

She launched another plane. I didn’t realise what she was aiming for until it fell a few feet short from the crimson blob of her brother, still asleep in the ball pit. I had completely forgotten he was there. He was most certainly a quiet sleeper. 

“Dagnabbit,” she muttered. “Last one to hit McIntosh is a mouldy carrot!” The filly ripped another page and I did the same. 

“You sure he won’t mind?” I asked, concerned. “I don’t want to make him mad, plus that reception pony might –” The filly shoved a hoof to my muzzle.     

“You talk too much. Come on. An’ anyways Mac wouldn’ get angry even if his front hooves fell off.”

I blushed again. Curse that blush. Then I obeyed, continuing to launch paper planes at the filly’s brother. I was absolutely horrendous at it, but I didn’t care one bit. It was quite possibly the most fun I’d had in ages. Heaven forbid if my mother had seen me, you know, actually having a good time. I had never done anything so boisterous, but I couldn’t deny, I did thoroughly enjoy it. 

Just when I was starting to get my planes to go in a straight line, I noticed the lack of laughing and page tearing. The filly had fallen asleep, covered in piles of paper balls. I’d become too immersed in the art of paper plane making to even realise. I gave an inaudible “aww.” She had looked tired. How long had we been in this place? 

I found myself starting to yawn. Plane making was hard work, and I hadn’t even hit my target once, except for maybe the wall. I wandered over and lay down next to her. Her coat was fussy and radiated warmth, as I nestled beside her. 

I spoke softly, knowing that she probably couldn’t hear me.

“By the way, I-I’m Rarity. Nice to meet you ...”

I fell asleep. 







I can say I was definitely crestfallen, after Mother had come to retrieve me. The filly had awoken and was gone before the reception mare told me to “get ya flank outta here!” I had given her the ripped carcass of the train magazine on the way out. I’d bet that moody mare would love it. 

Mother had told me about how my new sibling was doing well. At least that had uplifted my spirits. I couldn’t wait to teach them how to make paper airplanes. 

Mother continued to lead me down the grey maze of the hospital hallways towards the exit. She had promised me a trip to Sugarcube Corner for abandoning me, after I had shared some "strong" words. I shouldn’t of really, having got to meet a new friend. I sighed in disappointment; I didn’t even know her name.  

We were in a narrow hallway, near the elevator, when Mother had found Father beating at a vending machine with a hoof. He exchanged hugs with us both, telling me how lucky I was to be getting a new brother or sister. I nodded, snuggling into his chest. Train magazine reader or not, he gave the best hugs. 

My face was covered in pure embarrassment, when both of them started hammering on the side of the machine, all for some peanut butter crackers. I quivered with humiliation. This was my life! 

I noticed some commotion (even more than my parents) down the end of the hallway. It was far away, but I could tell it was the filly from the play room and her brother. A huge stallion with a brown Stetson stood behind them, as they listened to a nurse pony. He looked like that Buck Eastwood character.  

I only started off at a trot before the yelling began. The stallion was pounding his hooves against the floor with such power my teeth chattered. I couldn’t tell what was happening, but it didn’t sound good. 

The nurse pony was cringing at the stallion’s shouts. She tried to look remorseful, placing a hoof on his shoulder, but he shoved it away.

“I can't believe this. I won't believe it. I-I …” he cried. I noticed the filly shouting as well, but I couldn’t hear over the stallion’s volume, plus the hammering of my parent’s hooves.  

“There was nothing we could do, sir. It is a miracle your daughter survived,” the mare pleaded. 

“No. Celestia, no!” The sound of the impact echoed through me, as the stallions hoof struck the wall, pieces of plaster flaking off into the air with it. He galloped into the room opposite, pushing away the nurse pony. She hurried in behind him, leaving the younger ponies in the hallway. 

I was terrified. I was about to turn back to Mother and Father when I finally heard the filly speak. “W-what happened? I don’t understand. I knew somethin' was wrong!” she whimpered. Her brother whispered something in her ear. From the filly’s horrified expression, I didn’t have to hear it to understand.

“No! Ma... Ma!”

McIntosh held her back, as she charged towards the door. “Lemme go dangit!” she squealed, but he held her firm. “You said she’d be okay!” 

I knew I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping – it’s most unladylike. However, I was barely able to keep myself from giving the filly a rib crushing hug. It was me who got her hopes up. It was me who said everything would be alright. But, it wasn’t. Before I could start blubbering like a foal, my father lifted me onto his back. 

“Look, Raresy, we got it out,” he exclaimed, proudly showing of his prize. “Let’s go.” I composed myself, still looking back on the scene. I wasn’t listening to his blabbering.

“Don’t you get it? She’s gone! She’s … gone,” the orange filly finally cried into her brother’s arms. I felt tears well up in my own eyes. I’m sure I would have unleashed them, had not Father dragged me away.  

“W-wait.” I started, raising a hoof in their direction. My ears fell flat, as we stepped into the elevator. 

“Of course you can have a piece, honey bunch,” my father announced. I would of jumped of Father’s back and ran to her, but I couldn’t. I just stared. Frozen. A single tear rolled down my muzzle, dripping on my coat. 

The last thing I saw was the two ponies crying together in a solid embrace, as the elevator doors slid shut.  

And then, she was gone.     
> Chapter Two: Don't Know Where, Don't Know When
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Two: Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When





Five Years Later






This ain’t happenin’. 

It can’t be?

There was no way in tryin’ t' hide from my fate. Oh, sweet apple sauce. Granny would tan my hide brown, stick it over the fireplace and make me appreciate how homely it looked. Jus’ wait till’ she found out. 

I’ll be Little Piggington chow for sure. 

It was kinda my own fault really. Nightmare Night was one of the most popular celebrations of the year – not to mention the busiest. I couldn’t get a hoof edgeways into town without bein’ pushed into somepony. So, this is what it felt like t' be at the back o’ the line on cider season?

I was being so careful as well, daggit. I could still hear Granny’s old, croaky twang.

“Stick together, ya hear? If you lose her, you’ll be first in the juicer during zap apple harvest!”

Let’s hope Granny had a big enough jar. I can see it now. Applejack Juice: Made from Concentrate.

I scowled, not just from the thought of being made into confectionery, but my hind legs burned like hot plates. Runnin’ round town square looking for her was takin’ its toll. Big McIntosh and I had split up back at town hall. It was impossible; with so many ponies (and in costumes) it was like tryin’ t' find a needle in a haystack. 

Please, spare me the irony if she actually was hidin’ in a haystack back at the farm.

It was jus’ typical. I turn my back for one second t' get some cider (which she begged me for) and she’s gone. I wouldn’t care none, but I’d waited twenty minutes in line for that nectar!  

I kept at a steady pace (well for a filly) and called out again in desperation, “Apple Bloom! Where are ya?” My ears flattened, when the expected silent response came. Even if she tried gettin’ my attention, the ruckus outside Sugercube Corner would have drowned out her little voice. 

I’d found myself outside the store, after stoppin’ t' catch my breath. A pumpkin costume wasn’t the best getup for long distance gallopin’. I needed t' remember that one. Taking of the orange hat, I leaned against a nearby mail box for support, clutchin’ my chest. Gee, that suit was heavy. Granny had spent two weeks on all our costumes; I dunno how her frail hooves did it. But, she did it none the less. 

My gaspin’ slowed, as I noticed the writin’ on the mail box. It was pink, fancy paint spellin’ out, “Mr and Mrs Cake”. They’d bought the sweet shop last week after gettin’ hitched; at least, that’s what Granny had said. I’d been takin’ advantage of the free samples all week. Just thinkin’ about the butter cream icin’ made me drool. 

Being so enticed by my cupcake fantasies, I didn’t notice at first. It was her. Well, it looked like her. What filly in Ponyville would be dressed as an apple pie? So original Granny, only had t' look at the end o’ your flank for inspiration. 

Abandoning the nice mail box, I scooped up my pumpkin hat and started off at a gallop down Stirrup Street. She was at the far end of the road and all the confound ponies were blockin’ my sights. Using my height t' its full potential, I started slidin’ and weavin’ under legs, closing the distance t' my target. Only glancin’ back, after I’d slammed into an innocent filly, spilling all her candy.

“Awful sorry, Ma’am,” I yelled t' her Mother, as she gave me an evil glare, before comfortin’ her now crying daughter. I felt bad, but I didn’t slow down.

The spooky shindig meant town was covered in colourful lanterns and lights, kinda like a fire cracker had exploded and the sparks had latched onto every house and tree. My darn eyes were gonna pop right outta my head, it was so pretty. 

The squeals and whinnies of nearby ponies havin’ fun echoed down the road. That could’ve been me if I’d kept my goo-goo eyes on my kin and not on the décor. Although pretty, my head was spinnin’ with lookin’ at the millions of colours. I eyed up an unsuspecting caldron full of candy. 

No Applejack, if you were about t' throw up in what I think you were, you’ll be more hated than Nightmare Moon. 

The shadows had swallowed the end houses, and only dim, buoyant blobs floated in the black. I knew better than t’ think they were fire flies, just a family in high spirits. I’m sure they were mockin’ me, because my spirits were anythin’ but lifted. Actually, more like beat down and kicked multiple times in the rump. 

I’d found Apple Bloom. I squinted, my eyes gazin’ into the blackness. There she was. A dark pie shape on a backdrop of more black was canterin’ with glee into the … Everfree Forest. 

Oh, sweet zap apple cider!

I’m done for. But more accurately Apple Bloom is done for. I’d rather face Granny’s wrath a hundred times over, than my kin be eaten by a Timber Wolf, or somethin' a whole lot worse. Wait, what can be worse than a Timber Wolf? 

I shoulda jus' gone straight home, and ask Granny for help, some help, any help. But, it only took me a hoof clop t' change my mind. I’m still uncertain whether it was due t' the horror of the Everfree Forest, or Granny’s impendin’ rage. Whatever fear I had cooked up, I swallowed it. 

I had lost her. I had t' find her. 

When I rounded the end house, the last of her tail slid into a wall of undergrowth. The dirt path felt coarse against my already sore hooves. Not that I could see the path, the edge of town hadn’t been decorated by any lanterns.

Who would wanna go trick-or-treating in the Everfree Forest? 

Okay, cept’ Apple Bloom. 

By no means was I a bad filly, but as my pa would have said, “Quit your talkin’ and start walkin’”. I ain’t turnin’ t' a life of crime or nothin’, but I did feel a might bad. 

Thinking about Pa made it even worse. Not a day had passed when I didn’t think about the accident. I used t' jus’ sit, lookin’ at his apple cart. He’d travelled the length and breadth of Equestria with that ol' thing. 

At least he died doin' what he loved – deliverin’ apples. 

That’s the thing. No matter how well travelled a pony, a map ain’t gonna tell ya when there’s gonna be storm … or a landslide.  

The yellin’ came just as expected, when I stole the poor filly’s lantern. What was I gonna do? Her back was turned – receivin’ candy from the mare that lived in the last house. This was an emergency. I was gonna give it right back, I swear. 

“I’m sorry, but I need t' borrow this.” I panted, rocketin’ down the pathway once more. I heard hoof falls behind me. As soon as she’d noticed, the filly was hot on my trail.

“Stop, you … kleptomaniac!” she wailed. I had no idea what fancy talk she was hollerin’. But, by the increase in hoof steps, she was catchin’ up. I anticipated she wouldn’t, but the darn pumpkin suit was slowin’ me down. 

I curved my neck slightly, and called back, “I need it. This here’s an emergency!” 

I’d just made it t' the bushes, when I felt my legs buckle. “Ha! Take that crook!” she cheered, graspin’ my right hind leg. The runt tripped me! 

“Wee doggies! –” I bucked outward makin’ the filly fall on her back with a thud “- that’s what ya’ll get. Outta my way missy, time’s a wastin’!” I exclaimed in triumph, switchin’ my hold on the lantern to my mouth. 

I hadn’t even got an inch forward, before I felt my head snap, my teeth crunchin’ against the hard, brass handle. 

“Stop right now,” she mumbled, clenchin’ the opposite end in her jaw. I finally got a good look at my attacker, when the light illuminated her face. 

Her coat was so pale, even in the pitch black, like the first snow on Hearth’s Warming Eve. I worried she would’ve enveloped the lantern in magic, or maybe cast a spell, being a unicorn and all. Then, I would have been screwed, but she just went for brute strength, continuin’ to yank the light away. She did look about my age; I guess her magic was weak. 

Sorry filly, but you gotta go. I heaved backward, gainin’ a few paces to my advantage. Earth ponies always got the leg up in strength. Filly, don’t cha’ know nothin’? 

She snatched it back in her direction, but I held firm. For such a little, scrawny filly, geez she was strong. 

“Give it back,” she grumbled through clenched teeth.

“No way, I need it.” I snorted back. 

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You started it! Give it back!” she growled, tuggin’ one way.

“No!” I tugged the other. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“YES!”

I bared my teeth. I’d had it with this annoyin’ filly. Gettin’ a firm grip, I dug a hind hoof into the mud. I followed through with the pull and the filly finally gave, stumblin’ forward with the lantern still in tow.

“NO! -” I jerked my head reachin’ the height of the swing“- I NEED T' SAVE MY SIS -” The lantern
snapped forward, followed by the loose filly “- TER!” 

Momentum pushed me backward. The unicorn filly continued forward slammin’ into my chest, causing the lantern to soar into the darkness behind. Unable to steady myself, I slipped on the wet mud and we both followed behind it. 

We collapsed through the bushes, scratchin’ up my skin and coat. I didn’t have time t’ think before we broke into an ongoing roll down the steep, muddy slope. Holdin’ on to the filly in a tight embrace, I felt the world revolvin’ upside-down. 

I was gonna be sick. Where’s that cauldron when you need it?  

The fall lasted for a good minute. My awareness evaporated when we landed with a meaty thump. The back of my noggin smacked against the hard, forest floor and I fell limp. 

I think I blacked out.  




      


“Excuse me? Hello. Will you please get up?” The voice rattled through my ears, like when you shout your heart out in Ghastly Gorge. 

Sittin’ up a tad too fast, I thought my brain was jelly. I mumbled under my breath, “Huh? W-where am I?”

I felt a hoof jab firm against my chest. “Where are we? Where are we! We’re in the middle of nowhere, that’s where. This is your entire fault! -” I wobbled with each progressively harder prod “- you’ve dragged me into a dirt pit. Of all the things that could happen, this is the worst possible thing!”

The filly turned her nose away in disgust, trottin’ over to retrieve the lantern from under a tree nearby. I gaped in horror up at the slop we’d fallen down moments ago. Well, I guessed it was only a short while ago, my head was still poundin’. We’d never be able teh climb back up. 

The filly fished out the lantern with a moan. “And, I’ll be taking this back!” she barked. 

I got t' my hooves steadily, gawkin’ at the angry unicorn. Being so set on my rescue effort, I hadn’t noticed her costume. She wore a black cape, with matchin’ boots and witch’s hat. Each was covered in stunnin’ green jewels, which shimmered as she swung the light. Obviously, somepony had worked hard on the outfit. I couldn’t tell if she had a cutie mark, the costume covered her flank, just as mine did. 

“Are ya alright?” I asked. By her behavior she seemed unharmed. 

“Alright? What in Celestia’s name is your problem? You almost had me killed.” Her tone was rising with every verbal onslaught. “Worst of all, you’ve ruined my fabulous costume!” She huffed, dustin’ off her cape with a hoof.  

“The problem is that my sister’s missin’. We don’t have time t’ argue,” I hollered back. “Let’s go.” 

“We? Oh, no no no. You must have hit your head harder than I thought. I’m not consorting with the likes of you, having dragged me down here against my will.” 

I snarled, stompin’ my hooves against the muddy ground. Why did I have t' get stuck with the most pernickety filly in Equestria?

“Fine. I’m gonna go look for my kin.” I started off at a trot into the thicker cluster of trees, growlin’ when I pasted by the filly. 

“If you think I’m to set one hoof further into this dreadful place, you are quite mistaken,” she called out to me, but I continued forward.      

“Well, just stay here on ya lonesome. Don’t matter t’ me,” I replied rollin’ my eyes, while reachin’ the edge of the thicket. 

“S-stop. You’re not actually going to leave me here? …” I stepped into the bushes stayin’ silent. “Apparently you are. W-wait for me!” She drew closer, before peaking through the bush, looking frantically around for me.  

“Come on, “princess”.”  I mocked, helpin’ her though the brambles to the small dirt pathway on the other side. My plan had worked like a dream. 

“Oh, hush. Let’s hurry up. I don’t want to spend a minute more in the Everfree Forest than I have to.”

At least she was right about that. It was giving me the willies, not that I was gonna to show it, especially in front my new tag-along. I began down the thin pathway, the filly fallin’ in line behind.

“Apple Bloom! Apple Bloom? Where are ya?”

You could cut the tension with a knife. We’d been walkin’ in silence for a while, after I’d given up yelling for Apple Bloom. Just the creeks and rustlin’ of the forest resonated around us, often followed by a tiny clank from the lantern, as it bounced against the unicorn’s side.

I was a little startled when she finally spoke. “My hooves hurt,” she groaned.

“Quit yer fussin’!” I snapped, realisin’ how mean I must’ve sounded, but I was gettin’ agitated.  

“My apologies,” she whispered. 

The silence returned. My stomach churned knowin’ I’d ruined the filly’s Nightmare Night, as well as my own.

“How come I’ve never seen you at school?”

“Huh?” The filly’s sudden perky tone caught me off guard.

“School my dear? I have never seen you present.”

“Oh, I don’t go t' the schoolhouse. I’m home schooled,” I explained, as the filly listened intently. “I need t' help out with the farm, so my granny teaches me.

“I see. I can imagine that to be awfully lonely,” she said, with hint of remorse. 

“Nah, my brother is home schooled too and Apple Bloom is not old enough to go to school. So, I’m with my family all the time.”

She sighed and replied, “Well, that’s a redeeming factor I suppose.”  

I don’t know why I said it, but it just came up like word vomit. “B-but, I don’t have any friends.” The words hung in the air and I cringed that it was me who’d created them. 

The filly huffed, flickin’ her mane in emphasis, which was a kick in the teeth. “You are just as ignorant as I predicted.”

I jumped between two trees into the clearin’ we’d been approachin’. A moment later, she appeared behind me, whilst I ogled in annoyance. “What’s that suppose teh mean!”

“We’ll, yes you are a ruffian and I find your way of thinking completely barbaric.” She’d better be going somewhere with this, I was gonna batter that lantern across her head. “But, you are senseless to think that after cascading down cliffs and trekking through this goddess forsaken jungle, you wouldn’t consider me your friend.”   

I stood there bewildered. This filly was harder t' understand than magic to an earth pony. 

“What ya talking about, ya silly filly?” I hesitated, totally clueless.

“So, you don’t think of me as a friend?”

“Y-yes! I mean n-no! Of course I do. Ya’ll jus’ didn’t take too kindly to me before …” I stammered. 

She chortled. “Only because you were trying to steal from me and perhaps because you spoilt my outfit. Which might I say, yours is exquisite. No wonder we rolled down that hill with such ease.”

I started sniggerin’ along with her. “You’re right. Hi ho pumpkin, away!” I cried, rearing up. I started to think the unicorn wasn’t all that bad. Yeah I know, never judge a book by its cover. It was a relief that she didn’t actually hate me. I might have actually made a friend. 

She smiled sweetly after we’d stopped laughin’. “Oh, by the way my names apple -”

“WAH!” she screamed, pointin’ a hoof behind me.  

“No. Not “wah” it’s “ah-pill” -” I was cut off when she pushed my muzzle over my shoulder. 

I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t believe my eyes. A purple haze floated around the shadow figure, as it rose up. It towered over me, gainin’ height by the stone pedestal on which it stood. The creatures face was covered by shade and only when it bared it jaw did I see the jagged, white teeth it held inside. 

I felt the unicorn’s hooves entwine with my own, as we fell to our haunches, gawkin’ at the beast. We were shaking in our little horse shoes. The creatures breathin’ intensified, when it moved a hoof step forward.  

I think I jumped as high as the hay barn, when an ear-piercing crack ricocheted round the clearin’. The sky split in two, as a white thread of lightenin’ struck the grey stone, inches from the creature. We’d both let out a shrill scream, whilst the ground absorbed the blindin’ beam. 

The filly ran and I followed close behind, impressed by her sudden boost in speed. 

“RUN!” she screeched. I obeyed, gallopin’ along side. The lantern rattled in my teeth as I moved. The dang filly was so petrified, she’d dropped it. “I can’t see a thing!” 

“Jus’ keep goin’!” I breathed, trying my best to illuminate the way. I couldn’t see a hoof in front of my face, just millions of black fingers from protrudin’ trees and roots as they zipped by.  

My chest burnt, but I didn’t dare look back. I was gonna get gobbled up and never be heard from again, and I wanted to be heard from! My pace was slowin’ and I couldn’t keep up t' the filly. I panted harder, the lantern slammin’ against my chest with every stride. 

I saw her tail disappear round a huge tree trunk. “Wait! Please, wait for me. Don’t leave -” Once I rounded the trunk I slammed into something fleshy. I’m sure the filly’s horn poked me in the eye. Take note, unicorns never warn you about that.   

With a rustlin’ crash, we both fell through a dense wall of hedge, like openin’ a cat flap. The lantern slammed down next to me, the unicorn lay unmovin’ on my chest. 

“Oh, my gosh,” I yelped, coverin’ my now swollen eye. “Hey, answer me, missy.” Oh Celestia, I’ve killed her!

I felt her chest move against my own. Was she laughin’ or cryin'? I couldn’t tell. 

I gave a flat expression when I realised which. “I’m sorry.” She burst into uncontrollable laughter. “That was so funny. You should have seen your face when you ran into my horn.”

“Oh gee, hilarious.”  

She contained herself once more, placin’ her hoof over mine. “I’m sorry; you’re not hurt are you?” She smiled down at me. 

“Nah, I’m jus’ fine an' dandy.” I blushed hotly. We lay there for a few seconds, before peddlin’ awkwardly apart. I stabbed at the ground with a hoof, avoidin’ eye contact. What the heck was wrong with me?

“Look we’re back!” I heard her say in delight.

My eyes shot up. “What?” We were right back near Stirrup Street. “Ponyville, b-but how, I don’t understand?” That forest was definitely messin’ with my head. 

“THERE YA ARE YA LITTLE WIPPERSNAPPER!” I heard the voice from over the bridge. 

Oh no. 

Please Celestia, no!

It was Granny Smith, with Apple Bloom in tow. How did she get back? I saw her go in the forest. Celestia help me. Where’s the jar? I’ve got some juice to make. 

I turned to the unicorn. “Here’s your lantern back,” I whimpered in anticipation for Granny’s wrath. “I’m sorry I got ya’ll mixed up in this and for ruinin’ your night.”

She replied in the softest tone, “It wasn’t ruined. Nightmare Night is about being scared and well, that was most certainly terrifying. I had fun, in a strange kind of way.” 

I managed a small, quiverin’ smirk. “Thank ya kindly.” I handed her the beautifully made lantern. 

“Oh please, you keep it. By your sister’s shenanigans, I think you need it a lot more than me.” She gave me the most gorgeous smile, I almost got lost in it, before Granny started draggin’ me away by the ear.  

“You’re in a heap o’ trouble missy,” she snapped, as I struggled to keep up. 

“B-but, I was tryin’ -”

“No but’s! Get your caboose home now” I looked back t’ where the unicorn had stood. She had left. I looked around for the direction which she’d vanished. My heart sank. Good one, Applejack. The first friend you make and you lose her. 

Granny continued to yank me. If looks could kill, I was in trouble. 

“Now, where’s mah presser? I gots some here jam ta make.”

“NOOO!”                  

> Chapter Three: Rolling Popsicle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 3 – Rolling Popsicle





Four Years Later






“Next stop Appleloosa!” 

I squished my muzzle against the frosty glass, instantly regretting the act. If Tartarus did ever freeze over I can only expect the temperature to be somewhere in this region. I was completely freezing my tail off. Surely, the locomotive operator could have spared some coal for actually heating the train, in substitute for powering it?  

In retrospect, it wasn’t that big of an issue. The faster I travelled back to Canterlot, the faster I could depart this rolling Popsicle. 

The vapour coiled and hung in the air, when I gave a satisfied sigh. I was still in wonderment about it all. You know? Moi, being accepted into the most prestigious university in Equestria, and on a fashion degree no doubt.  

Yes, I’d only been attending two months, but I was one step closer to my dream. Not bad for a mare from a backwater town in the middle of nowhere, right?

I scrunched my neck further into the warm lining of my coat. Oh, it was a blessing. Thank Celestia, Mother had insisted on me wearing it when she’d escorted me to the station.

“Put cha’ coat on, honey. You’ll catch your death of cold, don’t cha’ know?” I remember her say in an assertive tone.  

Father and Sweetie Belle had accompanied us of course, wanting to bid me farewell. I do wish I could’ve stayed longer and on my mother’s Birthday furthermore, but disappointingly my studies called. Also, I really had no choice; Father had practically pushed me out the door upon my suggestion of staying another day or two.    

Naturally, I’d kissed my father and mother goodbye, trying not to keel over in shame when Mother started bawling her eyes out, alerting everypony in the station. Sweetie Belle tackled me in a hug, nuzzling into my mane. 

I know she’s unbelievably annoying sometimes, but she’s still my sister. I seemed more curious to whether the hugging was a result of my departure, or because I’d let her have my bedroom when I’d moved. She was positively grovelling for the darn thing.  

I wiped away the window’s thick condensation with a hoof, checking if they were still on the platform. I couldn’t see much, it was terribly dark outside, just odd flickers from a station worker’s lantern. Father was probably squealing like a little colt, inspecting the stream train. Before you ask, yes, I do think he has some kind of obsession. 

Being the last train, it was overflowing with passengers. I felt like a freshly packed sardine, being crammed in that table section. Across from me was a business stallion in a smart suit and tie, so immersed in his copy of the Ponyville Express, I couldn’t see his face. Next to him was an old mare knitting a scarf of some kind. I didn’t have the heart to say that her technique was off. 

The garment jogged my memory that I had hours to waste. I levitated out a sketch book and pencil from my saddlebag. At least I could get a head start on my next assignment. I tapped the eraser against my chin. Perhaps, a nice jacket or blazer? It would suit the current sub-zero climate perfectly. 

While I proceeded to write a list of potential fabrics, the carriage door slid open. An orange earth pony wearing an old, battered Stetson stepped inside; she spun back to talk to other in the previous carriage. 

A whistle sounded, the stack spluttering out smoke, while the train inched forward. Most of the conversation was inaudible. Not that I was eavesdropping or anything. 

Above the train’s chugging, all I managed to hear was, “That one’s full, I’ll jus’ be in here if ya need me.”

Earth ponies are incredibly strong, but this mare was a machine. After plodding a few paces, she lugged the heavy suitcases from her back to the overhead compartment in a single swing.

I concealed my muzzle into the sketchbook, which I’d just been peeking over. Whatever the heck was I doing? I coughed, awkwardly. Get back to work, Rarity. 

Me, ogling at other mares, that’ll be the day. Wait? I wasn’t ogling; I just really liked her … hat. Yes, that!

Rustic was in this season. My artistic eye tents to wander and I was just paying particular attention to her style. Strictly platonically. 

Judging by it, she was probably a resident of Appleloosa or Dodge Junction. A lot of farmers and country folk resided there – and they all wore Stetsons. You would think the things were stitched to their ears.  

Even in her the short time present, I could’ve sworn I’d seen the mare before. One might suggest it was all simply in my head. However, she struck some sort of mental note within me. I did have the tendency to scrutinize a tad too much, so I let the thought slide.     

Holding a Farming Weekly magazine in her teeth, she sat down beside me. I scooched over, burying my undeniable shame into the page. 

Oh great, just sit next to me why don’t you? Only two seconds ago, I was staring at your -- well that’s not important. I suddenly felt a lot warmer. 

Celestia spared me when a waiter from the dining car arrived. He was superbly dressed. I adored his bow tie.  

“Good evening,” he greeted in a charmingly, smooth voice. “May I interest you fillies and gentlecolts in tonight’s complementary menu?”  

“Sure,” the Stetson mare chimed. The business stallion waved a hoof in dismissal, not even diverting from his paper. I raised an eyebrow at the old mare, now asleep. Just what I wanted accompanying my meal - a lovely helping of bubbling droll. Fantastic. 

“Of course,” I uttered back, as the waiter waved over a menu with his magic.    

After a moment’s thought, the earth pony replied, “Err, I’ll take a number three.”

“Excellent choice.” He nodded, jotting down the order. “And, for you mademoiselle?” 

“I’ll have the chef's salad with oil and vinegar on the side and the apple pie a là mode.”

“Chef and apple a là mode,” he murmured into the note pad. 

“But I'd like the pie heated and I don't want the ice cream on top, I want it on the side, and I'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it, if not then no ice cream just whipped cream but only if it's real; if it's out of the can then nothing.” 

He looked up in confusion. “Not even the pie?”

“No, I want the pie, but then not heated.” I smiled intently. 

After a flash of awkward silence, and the waiter looking completely dumbfounded, he gulped an “Uh huh”, before scuttling off. My mouth hung open in mind sentence; the worse of it was I didn’t even get to order a drink. You call that service?

The pencil nib hadn’t even kissed the paper, when I heard a snigger. I peeped over the brim of the sketchbook; the orange mare had lifted a hoof trying to contain her laughter. Oh, just what I needed – a four hour train ride next to a potential psychotic. I already had the pleasure of “the snorer” and “the hermit”. Who did this mare think she was? 

I flipped the book down. “What?” I hissed.

Her eyes shot up. She looked like a filly whose hoof had been caught in a cookie jar. “U-uh, nothin’,” she pleaded. 

“Well, I didn’t know ordering dinner could be so amusing,” I replied flatly, returning to my sketch. 

“It’s jus’… 'on the side' is kinda a big thing for you,” the mare teased.

A “big thing”. Please, you wouldn’t be laughing if the vinegar made your lettuce all soggy. Levitating the book away, I turned my nose up. “I just want it the way I want it.” This was going to be a long night, by all means. 

The earth pony chortled, “Like I’ve never heard that one before. You fancy schmancy, high-society ponies are all the same.” 

Fancy? High-society? I’m sure that remark was a hidden insult, but I couldn’t help but be delighted. She thought I was a sophisticated mare. Moi! You could say I felt rather complemented, proud even. It just goes to show, taking pride in one’s appearance and behaviour is beneficial. Nopony had ever said anything like that to me before. 

Why, I was so overjoyed I could’ve just kiss -- I mean, shook her hoof in a congratulative manner.     

Remaining unruffled and expressionless, I acknowledged her. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.” 

She blew a raspberry, rolling her eyes. Immediately, I backed away from her spray radius. So uncouth. “ Oh yeah, when was the last time ya did somethin’ unexpected? Ya know darin’? None o’ that “on the side” stuff. Never I reckon.” 

What was she insinuating? I did spontaneous feats. Fashion was susceptible to the most change and unpredictability of any industry. As one would expect, I carried out every deed with beauty and grace. 

She wouldn’t know splendour if it bit her on the flank! 

Oh for the love of camomile tea, stop thinking about her flank, Rarity.

“Now listen here,” I protested, twirling my hoof in emphasis. “I’ll have you know that only last week I … I- ” I didn’t do anything! I sat and made a dress all week. Think of something, anything. “- went to the market and … bought mung beans instead of runner beans!” 

Did I just say that?  Perfect.  Good heavens, I hated to admit it, but the sloppy mare was right! I planned for everything, new designs, hooficures, which day I allocated to wash my mane. How positively humiliating. 

My embarrassment was far from helped when she blurted out a laugh. “Oh yeah, ya a real “loose cannon”.” 

If anypony had looked at me then, judging by the way I was growling, they would’ve thought I was some kind of rabid dog. Lucky for her, the waiter arrived with our food. You can only imagine what … colourful language I might have unleashed.  

“Your food, mademoiselles,” he purred, giving me a anxious look. “Do enjoy.”

The mare dived into her baked potato, managing a “thanks, partner” in mid chew. Repulsed by her lack of manners, I tended to my own meal. It was no surprise why the waiter had fled.   

I sat there looking at the vinegar riddled salad and the cold, vanilla ice-cream, pie mush.  

No sooner did it occur to me, this trip was an absolute nightmare. Oh, why me? 

Out of courtesy, I had a few ladylike bites and then returned to my design. Dinner could wait; I was on a “vogue” roll, so to speak.

The silence had become awfully unsettling, even with constant clattering of the train. You could tell it was getting late by the stillness of the passengers. Since the lights had been dimmed, my horn continued to glow a soft blue. 

I’d been aware of the orange mare glancing over my shoulder and breathing down my neck for some time. She could’ve at least tried to be discreet about it; her unruly panting was so shrill it was on par with the train.  

“Can I help you?” I snarled, intruding into the mare’s personal space, just like she in mine. 

She didn’t flinch, staying only inches away. “Nah, but perhaps I can help you with ya fancy drawin’,” she said, keeping a hushed tone. 

“Drawing? Excuse me, but this is a highly calculated visual conception in which several aspects are considered,” I announced. “And in regards to your suggestion of 'help', I can only expect anything a pony –” I looked her up and down coldly “- of your sophistication would propose will just result in uttermost disaster.”

Oh goddesses, I was on a social inhalation winning streak tonight. Talk about the cold shoulder, Rarity. 

“Huh. Well, if ya’ll are gonna be fussy, I ain’t tellin’,” she argued, glancing away. 

Not to worry, I did have a heart, although I had a strange way of showing it. Help is help, no matter from whom it originates. 

Huffing, I floated the page between us. “Fine, tell me,” I whined. 

“Alrighty then,” she smirked, pointing to the design. “Ya see this here part?”

“The fore leg sleeves? Whatever’s wrong with them?” Everyone’s a critic – literally.

“Yeah. Nothin’, it jus’ got me thinkin’. Now don’t get me wrong, it looks awfully pretty, its jus’ it’s not very practical like. Ya know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Well, alotta my family members work the fields and orchards in the winter, so they need t’ keep warm wearin’ jackets and such,” she explained. At this point, I was still sceptical. “But, workin’ up a sweat ain’t exactly healthy for ya outfit. Luggin’ hay and buckin’ apples causes a heap o’ rips and tears. Every winter my kin has t’ fix up their clothes, especially those there sleeves.”  

Still baffled by the mare’s advice, I answered, “I see. So, what to you propose?”  

“Heck if I know. Jus’ somethin’ t’ stop the knees rippin’ after all that tough grindin’. I’m sick o’ stitchin’ them up.” 

I looked out the black window. I couldn’t believe it, that rowdy mare was actually onto something. I did so love a practical accessory, and I’m sure country folk would be of the same opinion - a jacket that was durable, but gave a sense of refinery. Not too sophisticated mind you. I needed to consider the interests of my customer demographic. Maybe, in a tweed fabric? Definitely an autumn colour, grey or brown, perhaps green. 

This was ingenious! I had a target audience, the freezing weather, a niche market opening, I needed an assignment garment and rustic was in!

“I’ve got it!” I cheered, which was so unexpected the mare flinched.  

“Huh, got what?” 

“I-de-a!” I sang, while the mare joined me in looking at the page. “How about this?” I waved the pencil to craft two oblong patches around each knee, adding more fabric samples and stitching techniques. “Each sleeve has a knee patch made out of a durable fabric such as, leather or suede. This will be a different fabric to the initial jacket of course, but it will still remain stylish.”

Impressed, she whistled keenly. “Woo wee, that’ll work jus’ swell I reckon.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that,” I jested.

She smiled pleasantly. “No I ain’t. I would buy one. You look like an amazing fashion designer.” Fine, I admit it, I had been entirely wrong about this mare, she was … charming.    

“W-well, thank you,” I stuttered, shyly. What the heck was wrong with me tonight? One would think I was having a nervous breakdown. Like I was ever nervous around anypony. So … why was I now?

For all I know the orange mare could have continued that conversation, but I’d become completely obsessed from that point onward. I needed to think of a pitch, differences between mare and colt designs. How ecstatic I was, like a filly on their birthday. Overall cost and profit margins, pros and cons of fabrics. 

Oh my, it was going to be a long (but fabulous) night!  





I awoke with a shudder, smacking my horn against the overhead compartment. How unladylike it was to sleep in public. Looking around dazed, I rubbed my aching forehead. Please say nopony saw that? 

Apparently not, as the carriage was empty. How long had I been asleep? Sitting alone at the table, I collected my belongings up in an aura of magic. Before I flipped the sketchbook shut, I glanced at it briefly, only to see a message. 

What, pray tell, was this? 

The note was written in quite sloppy mouth writing, next to my design. 

~

Dear Miss Fancy Fashion Designer Mare, 
I saw how that waiter got your crazy order all wrong, so before I got off at Appleloosa, I left you an apple fritter and some syrup. I didn’t want you to go hungry. Don’t worry though, I put it “on the side”, just how you like it. My granny made them, they’re real good, trust me.

I would’ve woken you up, but you seemed kinda tired doing all that work for your big project. (And you were murmuring fabric samples in your sleep, so I guessed you were having a good ol’ dream)

Anyways, hope you get to Canterlot just fine and dandy. It was nice meeting you. 

From “Sophisticated” Mare

P.S. I’m hoping to see one of those pretty jackets in every clothes store in Equestria. Maybe you can send me one? After all, I did think of it. (I’m joking) Good luck. 

~

I read it over twice, not showing a flash of an expression. Putting down the book, I eyed up the fritter, floating it to my lips. 

After I took a bite, I stared out the window to the orange glow of the rising sun. I chewed silently, getting lost in the beautiful scene forming before me. 

“Charming,” I whispered. “Very charming indeed.”

   
> Chapter Four: Exploding Happiness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 4 – Exploding Happiness





Two Years Later






An icy chill stabbed my hoof, as the frothy liquid sloshed into the glass. The satisfyin’ gluggin’ sound that accompanied perked my ears. I was sure I'd get the hang of it … eventually. Raisin’ the opaque object t' the light, it occurred t' me how wrong I was. 

Froth, always froth dagnabbit!

I shook it a little, creatin’ a mini beverage bubble bath. The glow barely broke through the white sludge fillin’ the pint three quarters.

“Applejack, I’m guessing you need some help?”

You’re darn right, I needed help. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing here, in more ways than one. 

I looked down at the brown, tatty carpet. “Kinda,” I grumbled. 

My uncle, Strong Bow, rounded the bar laughin’ towards me. I’m sure my pathetic pourin’ skills were trivial t' a pony like him. I mean come on; the feller had a bottle o’ beer for a cutie mark. He knew everythin’ about runnin’ a bar, alcohol and makin’ and sellin’ drinks. 

As ya’ll can guess, I ain’t no bar maid. So, I didn’t know diddly-squat! Well, cept’ maybe a little about cider, which this wasn’t, as he kept on “kindly” remindin’ me. 

“This ain’t cider remember? This is lager, so you gotta pour it like this,” he complained, pullin’ the wooden pump handle, whilst tiltin’ a glass under the nozzle. “You need to tilt the glass or you’ll get all head and no pint.”

I could see he was gettin’ annoyed. Why wouldn’t he? I’m darn sure he’d told me this twice. Ya’ll would never o’ guessed makin’ a drink could be so difficult. 

I scratched my noggin’. “U-uh, head?” I gulped, confused. 

He gave me a stern look and grunted, “That’s froth to you.” 

“Oh,” I answered, my convincin’ smile makin’ him more doubtful, as the pump tap spat and gurgled. Was like pullin’ the plug outta a big tub. My uncle didn’t waver, but I stepped back.  

“Crikey, that was quick!” He tapped the spout, the last drop flickin’ out. “Be useful and go change the barrel, Applejack.”

Sweet niblets. Way t' boost my confidence. He should’ve jus’ blurted it out there and then, “Applejack, can’t pull a pint t’ save her life.” Good job nopony was around to hear it – that would’ve been the icin’ on the cake. My night was already turnin’ out t’ be a big ol’ disaster.  

In two shakes of a sheep’s tail, I scampered to the cellar. Uncle Strong’s angry moanin’ encouraged my speeds increase, but also indicated the fact that ... I wasn’t very useful. However, luggin’ a heavy barrel was within my capacity apparently. 

I hated t’ be useless. That’s probably why I'd agreed to this goddess awful job, cos I believed I wasn’t. Well, it’s true; ya can’t teach an ol' dog new tricks. Case ya ain’t realised, I’m referrin’ t’ myself as the dog in this instance. Not that I’m old or nothin’, its jus’ there was one thing I knew and one thing only. 

Apples.  

Everyday apples. 

I’m sure there’s some kinda metaphor or moral I should tell ya’ll about “stickin’ t’ your guns”, but I dunno. It’s a might hard t’ actually live by em’ with Granny Smith around. It was all her idea, ya know? Me, comin’ t’ help out Uncle Strong Bow. 

And before ya ask, I did try t’ reason with that old coot. I said it was New Years Eve. I said it was meant for “family time”. She wasn't haven’t none o’ it. And she calls me stubborn! I can see why, it runs in the dang family. 

I lifted a barrel of lager down, takin’ a quick peek at the label. Ingrained into the wood was a logo of a rearin’ stallion firin’ a bow and arrow – that was Uncle Strong’s brand, ya see. He had many a homemade ale and cider, the latter bein’ renowned throughout Equestria. Maybe that’s why his tavern had become so popular? 

But raisin’ popularity comes with a price – hard work. Plus a load o’ bits, especially on holidays like New Years Eve. Now that I think about it, shouldn’t have Uncle Stong been thankin’ me? I was helpin’ him on the busiest night o’ the year when nopony else would. See, I was useful!   

I screwed the pipe tight with my teeth, nudgin’ the barrel t' check it was workin’ good and proper. No doubt this would be the first of many barrel changes tonight. I sighed, thinkin’ about all those payin’ customers. Oh please, Celestia, make me a fancy bar maid and I’ll write a hundred letters t' ya. Anything t’ make this night easier! 

There was one thing. One thing to relieve me of the overwhelming feeling of dread. My own anger swelled for bein’ shallow enough t' prioritize it. 

Bits. A good heap o’ them. 

What was I gonna do? When winter hit Sweet Apple Acres, it hit hard. Our gosh darn luck, ain’t it? Gettin’ two harsh frosts off the trot. Consarn weather ponies, Pegasi don’t understand farmin’ for the hill o’ beans.   

What did they say? “We can’t do anything, Applejack. Bumping up the heat affects the ecosystem.” 

What about my kin, huh?  Well, these “affects” are freezin’ my fields! Can ya’ll tell I jus’ love the snow. Business was non-existent at this time, cos you couldn’t grow nothin’ for love or money. Ironically, that’s what we needed most – money. 

I guess Granny’s persistence had some reasonin’, so we could get some darn bits. Uncle was being a might kinder than I gave him credit for. Work all New Years Eve. Receive generous payment of bits. You’re darn tootin’, Uncle Strong! 

It was only one night, and I needed those bits t’ make ends meet. I had nothin’ t’ lose, cept’ for my hearin’ when Uncle Strong shouted at me through the cellar door. I trotted up, hatin’ the stupid holiday with a passion. New Years Eve. I reckon I was gonna need a new set of hooves after the night was through.   







I hate t' say I told ya so, but … I darn told ya so! All that shoutin’ and hollerin’, I couldn’t think straight. I was in a match box. Jus’ as I’d set hoof behind the bar, the tavern was crammed. Told ya this joint was popular.  

Ya’ll know what? Forget it. I am useless. My clumsy hooves had been responsible for three pint fatalities, a kamikaze glass and my own near demise on a puddle o’ goddess knows what. I missed my apples. They didn’t try and kill me like their cousin cider.  

On one of my very few brakes, I took a gander at the swarm around the bar. Bunch o’ hooligans. Was everypony in Canterlot a student? The place was crawlin’ with em’. Great cheese and crackers, those ponies could drink like fish!

“Gimme another, sweet cheeks.” I shuddered, as a dark coated stallion heckled in my direction. Call me that one more time, and so help me, ya’ll have no cheeks. 

“S-sure,” I responded, grittin’ my teeth into the best smile I could. Oh, Celestia, strike me down! I noticed the sound of clatterin’ comin' from behind me.  

“Applejack! Applejack, there you are.” Uncle Strong galloped up from the cellar nearly mowin’ me down. “I have to go! You’ll have to hold the fort till’ I get back,” he blurted over the commotion.

I steadied myself, with half a pint in tow. “Calm down, Uncle Strong. Wait, whataya mean go?”

“It’s the yeast, Applejack –” He continued t’ shake me like a leaf “– my poor beer back at the brewery, she’ll be ruined!” he whimpered, lookin’ wild eyed.  

“She? What the hay –”

“I’ve gotta save her. I’m coming my darling!” He reared up, jumpin’ the length of the counter and galloped out the door. That there scene gotta few drunken cheers. 

I followed him t' the bar top. “Uncle Strong, what in tarnation? I can’t run this bar on my lonesome! Uncle Strong …”   

Did that just happen? What was that stallion smokin’? I seriously was gonna launch my back hooves into somethin’. Somethin’ expensive. How could he just ditch me?

“Hey, muddy, you gonna get my bucking drink or what?” I turned slowly towards the harsh, drunken voice. On second thought, I could just buck that colt right in his uglier than sin muzzle. 

T' you perhaps muddy just means, ya know, dirty or somethin’. T' Earth Ponies not so much –  it's mean, evil. 

It’s discriminating us. Our race.  

I’ll let you in on a little secret us Earths like to keep. We hate not bein’ “magic”. So, callin’ us “muddy” or “Mud Pony”, it hurt. A lot. I know we possess magic is some respect, but it would be nice t’ fly or not get slaver over everythin’ ya wanna grab. Besides, I didn’t care. Be honest t’ yourself, that’s all ya can be. I was proud t’ be an Earth Pony. 

However, it couldn’t hurt t’ knock this guy down a few sizes. I should have, but when ya bar’s full o’ unicorns, the odds ain’t exactly in ya favour.  

“Beg pardon?” I growled, clutchin’ an innocent glass. Keep it together, Applejack. 

“You deaf? I said, I want a drink you muddy fu–” 

“Graphy!” A pretty, light blue, unicorn mare tackled the stallion in a powerful hug. Boy howdy, that runt was lucky. I turned t' get his drink. However arrogant, he was still a customer. I wondered if he could tell spit from a spirit.

While concocting this “drink”, I overheard the mare. “It’s great to see you. How was your vacation?” she babbled between sips of her vodka and lemonade. 

Her voice was piercin’ and lathered in an accent faker than a three bit coin. I assumed she was a brick shy of a load the way she continued t' drunkenly fall on the colt producin’ a grinding cackle. 

By his constant rump grabbin', the stallion didn’t seem t' mind. However, it was jus’ a tad more than I wanted t’ see.  

“Terrible, cos I couldn’t see you, babe,” he purred, causin’ the mare t' blush. 

I slammed the drink down, practically gallopin’ off in disgust. He grinned at me, and not in a friendly way. I’d seen pigs with more manners than that feller. I went back t’ cleanin’ glasses. 

Squealin’ erupted from their direction, when more ponies joined. Two stallions wearin’ jackets with the initials “CU” stitched on the breast gave the rude stallion a hoof bump. More Canterlot University students I presumed. He returned the gesture, towerin’ above his companions. Big Mac would've been miniature compared t' him. I saw his backwards baseball cap had the same initials, and his cutie mark was a white crescent.  

“Graphy, sup’ bro?” one of them spoke. I returned to dryin’ some wine glasses, tryin’ not t’ get caught gawkin’. 

“Graphite, there you are.” This voice was new, it was of a mare with a well-to-do accent, but not forced. It was genuine, sweet even.  

I could see why, as the stallions parted t' let the speaker through. That intoxicated mare was cute as a bug, but her, she was … downright stunnin’. After a good minute watchin’, the wet glass slid outta my hooves, landin’ with a shatterin’ clash. 

That’ll teach ya t’ keep ya eyes t’ yourself. Was I losin’ my mind?    

I followed the inside curve of the bar t’ fetch the broom, listenin’ as I pasted. 

“Rare! How you been, beautiful?” the stallion I now recognized as Graphite exclaimed, givin’ her a hug. She pushed him away politely, containin’ a slight redness in her cheeks. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” The light blue mare peddled away from Graphite, starin’ at the pretty unicorn. “Diamond Mint, nice to see you again,” she addressed the mare with a grin. 

“A pleasure as always, Rarity,” she said, injected with a snide tone, trottin’ away t’ a booth with the other stallions.    

The white mare hunkered down on a barstool, next t’ Graphite. She barely managed a smile.

“Don’t worry about her, babe. She’s just jealous,” he roared, takin’ a swig. 

She looked at him dumfounded. “Jealous of what?”

“You know? You going out with me.” She remained silent, appalled by the comment and his inability to keep the liquid in his muzzle. “What? It’s not my fault every mare at CU has the hots for me.”

I snorted while startin’ to sweep. That mare was bein’ played like a banjo. Not that it was any o’ my business.  

“I’ll be in the booth, sexyness.” He grazed her rump with a hoof, walking away. Groanin’, she slammed her face against the cold, wood counter. That stallion was far too big for his britches, if he had britches.  

I finished collectin’ the broken glass, and walked over t' the mare. Gosh, her mane must o’ taken a day t’ get it that pretty. 

“You alright, sugercube?” I asked, leanin’ against the bar. 

She didn’t move. “I need a drink, a strong drink.”

“Ugh ... any ideas?” Heck if I knew what fancy Canterlot ponies liked t’ drink.  

When she glanced up, I was taken back by the sparkle in her azure eyes. “I’ll have an apple martini, please.” 

Oh, pony feathers; I was sure that wasn’t on a pump. I felt myself panic, when I had no idea how t' even begin to make her drink. 

“Ya wouldn’t know what goes in that would ya?” I would have never been able t' fit in with the Canterlot way of life. Plus, I was the worse bar maid ever! 

“Vodka, lots of vodka,” she said, unwaverin’. I spun about frantically. Where’s that dang cocktail recipe card? Martini was a cocktail, right?

“I’m gonna need a bit more than that. Where’s that silver thing, dangabbit?” I heard her laughin’, while I rutted around under the bar top. I rolled my eyes, gigglin’ along. 

“You must have some idea, apples are clearly your forte,” she chuckled, pointin’ t’ my cutie mark. She had no idea. 

I started t’ draw circles with a hoof against the cocktail shaker I’d found. “Well, ya’ll would be right bout’ that. Cider I can do, but apple martini, that would be a no,” I mumbled, lookin’ at my reflection in the metal. Was she thinkin’ I was jus’ a dumb farmer? 

“Perhaps, I can be of assistance –” She levitated some bottles across in her magic, not disruptin’ her posture an inch “– here, I’ll teach you.”  

The bottles danced about me t’ create a boozy brew within the shaker. The way she controlled the objects with so much precision and ease, led me t’ believe she was a talented unicorn. I clopped my hooves when she made the streams of liquid cross in midair. Finally, she screwed the cap on. 

“You look like a strong mare.” She looked me up and down, floatin’ it over. “Give it a shake.”

Strong mare? Had she jus’ … nah. 

“S-shake?” I spluttered.  

“Precisely.” 

“Y-yes, ma’am.” I shook the thing vigorously in my fore hooves, only stoppin’ by the mare’s instruction. 

Her aura wrapped around the shaker. “Stop, darling. You’ll be shaking all night if you don’t,” she warned, grinnin’ as she collected a pretty glass. I unscrewed the top, lettin’ the fluid flow. I was proud as punch t’ have made an actual sophisticated cocktail. No pun intended.   

The last drop left a small ripple. “No disrespect, Miss, but I thought it would be more fancy lookin’. Its jus’ … green,” I inquired, dippin’ down t’ get a closer look.  

“Perhaps, but I do admire simplicity now and again –” She swirled the glass, then took a light sip “– and I’ve just come to realise that   ... I’m rather fond of the colour green.” 

I had no idea what she was goin’ on about, and yet I absorbed every word. Dang fancy talk.  

“H-how does it taste?” I beamed in anticipation. 

“Cheap.” She smacked her lips, studyin’ the flavour. Perfect, why do I bother? 

“Is that bad?” Of course it was bad! 

“Not for the purpose I’m indenting it. Hmm, this needs something.” She peered over the bar. “There!” She nodded at an assortment of cocktail decorations.  

I lifted the box, very confused. “These?”

“Yes, give me … that pink umbrella,” she chirped. I’d never known a cocktail stick with a paper umbrella t’ bring so much joy. 

I smiled awkwardly, passin’ it t' her. “Thanks, dear. See, now it’s perfect!” She took a much bigger swig this time, the umbrella ticklin’ her muzzle. At least I had one satisfied customer.

“I’m guessin’ ya’ll be wantin’ another after that, considerin’?”

She stopped mid gulp. “It is wrong to assume a lady, such as myself, would want to indulge in alcohol.” I was about t' apologize, when she continued. “But, yes … I really would.” 

“Since ya so good at makin’ those martinis, ya’ll can help yourself. I’ve got other more rowdy customers that ain’t as nice as you. It would be less hassle for me, that’s for sure.”      

“Nice as me? Aren’t you the one supposed to be buying the drink if trying to sweet talk me? Not the other way round,” she smirked, lappin’ up the last drops. 

Wait, I … what was happenin’? I didn’t mean t’ say it like that. She was “nicer” than some of the other customers – stop talkin’, Applejack. 

I think all I managed t’ say was, “I-I didn’t … that not what … well you are … what I mean is -” 

“I’m joking, darling. You wouldn’t believe it, but some ponies in Canterlot do actually have a sense of humour you know,” she said in her sweet voice, and headed towards her coltfriend and other pals. 

Watchin’ her walking away, I slapped my noggin’ with a hoof. Get a hold o’ yourself! Jus’ gotta tend t’ the bar, that’s the plan. I collected up her bits she’d left from the counter top, and went back t' servin’ and sweepin’







“Graph, have you done it?”

“Done what?”

“Broke up with her you twit! Get rid of that repulsive creature or I will.”

I’d been “overhearin’” their conversation for a while, tryin’ not t’ alert the pair as I restocked the potato chips. I’d heard a good lot about somepony called Diamond Mint gettin’ busy with Graphite, only t’ realised it was that drunk mare. I felt bad for his marefriend, or should I say soon t’ be ex-marefriend. 

“I’m gonna, babe. B-but, well …”

“Well, what!” Diamond Mint growled.

“She’s … so hot!” he protested. What’s worse was that useless colt didn’t even sound sorry. He was darn right proud!

I thought I heard a hoof connectin' with his chest or side. “Seriously, I can’t believe you just said that!”

“I’m talking lava hot here, babe. But, she’s so frigid it’s unbelievable. It was killing me not being able to ... ”

“To what?”

“Tap that.” 

I tried t' control my laugh at that one, I must admit. You could say it was full on eavesdropping now, havin’ stopped packin’ chips five minutes ago. If that was my coltfriend I’d –- well I donno, I guess I would’ve been happy to have actually had one.

“You know what? She’s lucky to be getting dumped, because you’re such a dog!” she gasped, slammin’ a glass down.  

There was an awkward silence, before a second thud came from the bar, and it wasn’t a glass, if ya’ll know what I mean. I peeked through a crack in the store room door t’ see them writhen around on the back o’ the counter. Hooves made bottles clatter around them, while they played a revolting game of tonsil tennis.   

Sickened by the show, I walked back through the bar, considerin’ t’ hurl in an old, rusty, water pale. Ponies are so darn strange. I jus' heard their discussion as they left out the back. 

“Let’s go to my place,” Graphite panted.

“What about her?”

“Just leave her; I’ve got better things to do. Get it? Do.”

“Buck sake, let’s go,” the mare grunted.

The tavern was nearly deserted, as I trotted in clenchin’ a rack of chinkin’ empty bottles. Everypony had headed up t’ the castle for midnight and the firework display. Thank Celestia this night was through. A few more jobs and I’d be huddled up in my bunk. I couldn’t wait. 

I shouted a “ya’ll come back real soon”, when the last group of ponies left, chattin’ about the display. Fireworks weren’t really my thing; the most I’d seen was a sparkler and a rocket or two. Nothin’ eccentric, and that’s exactly what the Canterlot display was. In fact, the whole town was like that. Life went by like a stream train, while I was jus’ fine t’ plod along and look at the scenery. Guess it’s a country thing. 

Jus' when I thought I was done, a pile o’ bits and several empty fancy glasses were resting on the corner bar top. How’d I miss those? I threw the money in the register (I could count that tomorrow) and began rinsin’ the glasses. If I’d never seen another pint, bottle or wine glass again, it would’ve been too darn soon.          

I stopped t’ listen t’ the splashing of the sink, when swear I heard a clatter yonder side of the tavern. There it was again, a tinny clank. Bein’ a tad alarmed, I crept lightly about the bar’s timber frame. Reckon it was some critter who’d got in through the back, I reasoned with myself. Ya know, a bird or a racoon or somethin’, it was cold out after all. 

The dim lights weren’t helpin’, as I continued my search. Don’t fret, Applejack, tis’ jus’ nothin’. Please don’t be a burglar, please. Not that there was anythin’ a might interestin’ t’ steal, jus’ bottles and the smell o’ old liquor. I took notice of a dim, blue light castin’ strange shadow around me, though I was still blind as a bat. Tis’ fine, jus’ breathe. 

Readyin’ my pouce, I took a peep at the figure. It couldn’t have been a pony, everyone had left and it was slumped in a black heap on the ground. The blue light had vanished, leavin’ the area dark. Well, better get this … whatever it is, outta here. 

“Hold it right there, partner!” I lept near the creature, kickin’ a hoof at the light switch. I’d already pinned the thing, when the lights flickered to reveal the pest. 

Oh, for ponies sake.

“Mummy, five more minutes,” she murmured, pushin’ my fore hooves away. 

Mummy?

I face hoofed, whisperin’, “Ya’ll have gotta be kiddin’ me?” 

It was the attractive, white, unicorn mare, lookin’ not so attractive, and heck o’ a lot drunker. She was downright hammered. Her eyelashes fluttered at the disturbance of bright light, whilst I shoved into her side. I ain’t playin’ babysitter! 

“Ma’am, get up,” I commanded in her ear. If she’d used all o’ Strong Bow’s sprits, I was in a heap o’ trouble. Me and my big mouth, she really had “helped herself”. 

She was awake now; jus’ refusin’ t’ budge. “No, I-I … don’t -–”

“Up with cha’” I hauled her up t’ the nearest chair, lightly slappin’ her cheek. Unmovin’, her purple, dishevelled mane drooped over her muzzle.

I trotted t’ get her some water, shoutin’, “Stay put, ya hear?”

When returnin’ with her glass, she was awake with her face up in a lamp. 

“Did you hear me, Graphite? Our relationship is terminated, you … pig!” she cheered, the floor lamp bobbin’ about her in a spell. 

“Are you talkin’ to … a lamp?” I pulled her away by the shoulder. Uncle Strong was gonna pay for this!

“Thanks! –” She snatched the glass, glupin’ it down “- ew, it doesn’t taste of anything!” Her eyes rolled about, finally focusin’ on me.

“It's water, it never does,” I complained. “Get that down ya, we gotta get ya sobered up … sorta.” 

She obliged happily, closin’ her eyes t’ knock it back. Even blind drunk, this mare looked astonishingly beautiful. Must be unicorn magic.   

“Thanks, darling,” she cooed, swayin’ like a wheat field in a twister. I thought she might fall, but she steadied herself. 

“Ya’ll know ya should’ve dumped that feller when ya’ll were sober, that lamp is jus’ an innocent bystander.” I knew she couldn’t even see straight, never mind make sense of my words. No reason t’ not have a little fun, after tonight I disserved some. 

She ogled at the lamp, then back t' me. “Graphite?” she said sternly. 

“Now Miss, I don’t wanna pry, and I know it ain’t any of my business, but -” I moved closer encase she toppled over “- I overheard yer coltfriend and this mare talkin’ and well, I think they’re -”

“Banging.”  

The flatness of her tone, along with her genteel accent made me crack up. I’m sure she even managed a smile when she realised her words. I felt worse for her learnin’ she was a pleasant pony, not a Canterlot snob like her discustin’ “coltfriend”.  

“Err … I was gonna say involved, but I reckon that’ll work too,” I pondered. 

Her happy expression evaporated. “I’ve known for a week, I saw them hooking up in the projection room above the auditorium,” she whispered. 

“Oh? I’m a might sorry. Why didn't ya tell that runt ya’ll are through?”

She smirked coldly. “I-I was seeing if he had any sort of self respect left and admit it. I guess not. What a surprise.”  

“If ya don’t mind me sayin’, he don’t disserve ya,” I advised, makin’ her wipe a single tear with a hoof. That was before she bucked out, decapitatin’ the lamp. 

“Take that, babe! I hated when you called me that by the way.” 

I held her back, draggin’ her towards the door. This mare was madder than a wet hen. Where the heck was Uncle Strong? I was gonna need therapy after tonight. 

“Please don’t tell me ya’ll got drunk jus’ t’ get over that stallion?”

Squirmin’, she retorted, “N-no, what are you saying? I am … completely over him!”

I could spot a lie a mile off. You could tell she obviously had.

“Well it’s been a ... pleasure talkin’ t’ ya’ll, but ya gotta leave. You know? Gotta clean up and all that stuff. Busy, busy,” I pleaded, shovin’ her skinny hide out the front door. 

The chilly breeze slapped my face, the light snow felt cool on my coat. It had really come down these past few hours. Too bad this mare had t’ walk home in it.  

“Okay ma’am, have a good evenin’, ya'll get home safe and sound,” I uttered, as she stumbled into the desolate, white blanket that was the street. 

“Bye bye, floating hat,” she grunted, eyein’ a direction t’ go. I looked up at my hat, huffin’. Floatin’ hat, really? Just walk away, Applejack. 

She started down the street only t’ slip on a lump o’ snow, rollin’ round like a pig in mud. It’s not your responsibility, jus’ turn around – oh my stars, is she talkin’ t’ that snow? I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Why was I such a nice pony? 

She was spinnin’ like a top when I trotted out t’ meet her. “Miss, ya look a bit lost,” I questioned sternly. 

“I am not! I’m just trying to find the sky and I’ll be on my way,” she barked back, lookin’ at the snow’s bright sheen. 

“Alrighty … I’ll walk ya home, ya much too drunk. Where’d ya live?” If she couldn’t find the sky, how the heck could she find her house? It ain’t like I knew Canterlot like the back o’ my hoof either. 

Scanning the length of the backstreet, she shrugged. “I-I … hmm …”

“Well, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re a CU student. So, do ya live near the campus?” She looked about my age, give or take a year. 

She danced on the spot in a filly like way. “Yes! Now I remember. You’re good at this. –” She began at a brisk trot “- come on, Applesauce.” 

What? Seriously, what the hay? This was the worst decision of my life. “Hold ya horses, girly,” I yelled, gallopin’ up beside her.  “Apple sauce? Whatcha’ talkin’ about?”

The mare’s hooves scuffled over the frosty cobbles, while she winked at me. “Simple. The three apples on that pretty flank. You’re obviously called Applesauce.” 

I was takin’ back by her drunken stupidity and the fact she thought my flank was … pretty. It was just the drink talkin’. 

“No, it ain’t. My name’s Applejack,” I corrected her. 

“I disagree, its Applesauce,” she snorted. 

I stomped the pavement. “Jack!”

“No, mine sounds better.”

“It ain’t, cos it’s Applejack!”

“Calm down, Applesauce. And here I thought you had a sense of humour. ”Apparently I had no sense, cos I hadn’t ditched this crazy filly already. 

“Land sakes, missy. For the last time it’s -–” I couldn’t finish, as she thundered off towards the castle and Main Street. 

“Chop chop, Applesauce. Keep up,” the mare snickered, roundin’ a corner outta sight. Nopony tells me t’ “keep up”.

I gave chase, bein’ careful not t’ slip on the many ice patches. Main Street was deserted as well, leavin’ jus’ me and a sea of gleamin’ rooftops and pathways. The unicorn was nowhere t’ be seen. I slowed t’ a steady trot. 

“Quit ya messin’!” My voiced echoed with each call. “Ya’ll would be easier t’ find if ya weren’t so darn -” I glanced to my left at the intersection “- white.”

I’d never seen the castle with my own eyes, and boy was it amazing. The clear night sky created the perfect backdrop in contrast t’ its pale peaks illuminated in moonlight. I wished my family could’ve shared the moment with me. Dang, I missed them. 

A silver shimmer from the highest tower caught my eye, endin’ the daydream. The ball lowered slowly on its spike, followed by distant cheers carried on the wind, as it kissed the bottom. A high wine and a rolling boom reached my ears, preceded by an explosion of shimmerin’ colour. Its light wrapped around the street, paintin’ it entirely gold for a moment. More lights followed, each dyin’ Canterlot a new strikin’ colour. 

Despite all the annoyances that night, the captivatin’ spectacle melted them away. I’d changed my mind, I loved fireworks. They were like … explodin’ happiness.   

“Happy New Year, Applesauce,” the mare’s voice murmured. 

She was jus' behind me, her side changin’ from red t’ gold, while the fireworks continued. I blinked hard, removin’ a collection tears. Turnin’ t’ face her, she plodded t' join me.

“H-Happy New Year to you too, Miss,” I choked. Don’t cry, is jus’ a firework. I smiled at her and she smiled back. I suddenly became aware it was jus’ us there in that street, nopony else. It was only for a second, I can’t explain it but … it was nice. 

“It’s quite beautiful, isn't it?” she stated. 

I continued t' watch her, long after she’d looked back at the sky. “Sure is.” 

I had no idea what was wrong with me. Maybe I was comin’ down with a fever? The unicorn skipped away, singin’ some sweet song with fancy lyrics. I gave the castle one final glance, absorbin’ all its beauty. I needed t’ come back with my kin, AppleBloom would’ve loved this.  

I found the mare outside a flower shop, movin’ a litter bin flap with her magic in time t’ her odd singin’. 

“On Old long syne … when angel deserve to DIE!” she screamed the last part, makin’ me jump outta my skin. 

“Come on, we gotsta keep movin’.” I knew the accommodation buildin’ was around here some place. This was takin’ forever, and I was so tired. 

“No, I’m talking to this gentlemanly trash receptacle, if you don’t mind. Now, what were you saying Sergeant?” 

For the love of apples! I’d had it. I barged under the mare, liftin’ her on my back. 

“We’re leavin’!” I snapped, as she squealed like a prize pig. Bein’ a smidge taller, her hooves couldn’t touch the ground. Now we’re gettin’ somewhere. 

“Stop, put me down at once! I’m not a saddle! Hello, are you listening?” she hissed, her hooves beatin’ against my sides. 

“Don’t get ya feathers in a bunch. We’re almost there -” She kicked my rump hard “- Ow! And quit yer squirmin’.”

“But I’m a unicorn,” she informed, settlin’ down. 

This mare couldn’t handle her liquor at all. “It’s an expression, sugercube.”

She shifted forward, grabbin’ my neck for stability. “Oh, I see.”  

The cold was gettin’ t’ my hooves, as fresh snow had started to fall, pepperin’ my face with each gust o’ wind. The white mare had remained lifeless all down Main Street. I’d been concerned she’d passed out, right before she whispered in my ear. 

“Applesauce?” she groaned, restin’ on top o’ my hat. “C-can I tell you a secret?”

Cotton headed filly, what was she yakkin’ about now? I had jus’ started t’ enjoy the quiet. Well, at least she was keepin’ me warm. Carryin’ her was like a light, fluffy (but annoyin’) blanket. Don’t think I was enjoyin’ this, cos I wasn’t!

“I’m all ears.” If this was some personal matter, so help me, I would bury her in the nearest snow pile. I was not a therapist!  

“Most p-ponies think I’m white … but a-actually, I’m light grey,” she squeaked. “Shh, don’t tell anypony.”

I barked a laugh. Gosh, I wish I was so care free. I guess Canterlot wasn’t that bad after all. 

We’d passed through a brickwork archway t’ an aged courtyard. A metal sculpture of two noble, rearin’ stallions held a sign spellin’ “Canterlot University” soldered into rusted steel. 

“Ya’ll know, ya the happiest Canterlot resident I’ve meet since I got here, and not jus’ cos ya under the influence,” I spoke, crossin’ t’ a large buildin’ with pillars. There were so many, it looked like it was give me a cheesy grin. 

“I’m not from C-Canterlot, and I’m from … Pon -–” she gulped, raisin’ a hoof t’ her lips. Oh hay no, don’t you dare hurl on me. I placed her down slowly outside a huge double door, havin’ found it only by her grunts of “that way, no that way”. Finally!

“Oh hello, Door. Look, one is back!” she exclaimed, strokin’ the door frame. She focused on me again. “Thank you, Applesauce. You’re very kind. Unlike some ponies in this bloody town … y-your coltfriend is a very lucky pony.”

She was certainly optimistic I’ll give her that. Some ponies weren’t as fortunate t’ be as pretty and talented as others. Why did I think this stranger, I barely knew, was more interestin’ than ponies I’d known for years? I had no idea. 

“If I ever have one I’ll err … tell them,” I murmured. Jus’ tell everyone why don’t cha'. Applejack, “the undatable”.

She produced a smirk much different from any previous. “Oh, I get it,” she purred, movin’ closer.

“Huh? Ya’ll don’t have t’ make fun. It’s not my fault.” Stallions never gave a farm girl a sideways glance. Way t’ rub it in!

“Of course not, I’m just saying you --”

“Well don’t “jus’ say”, it’s alright for you, I bet ya’ve had pleaty o’ special someponies,” I retorted, lookin’ away across the courtyard. 

Her mouth hung open, as she pondered, “Yes, but I think I need to fall for a different type, if you see where I’m coming from.”

That was the only logical thing she’d said all night. “Darn right, that guy’s all hat and no cattle. Ya’ll need t’ give him a piece o’ your mind,” I huffed. 

She didn’t respond and jus’ poked a collection of murky slush, where ponies had trodden. It made me realise how fragile Canterlot could turn a pony. 

“It’s rather impolite to speak one’s mind, if hurt inevitably follows,” she instructed, failin’ t’ remain composed. 

I’d never thought about it like that. The moment I wanted t’ say somethin’ I would jus’ blurt it out, no hesitation. 

“Okay, what about if it was somethin’ nice, or would make somepony really happy? Would you speak your mind then?” Ugh, why was I havin’ a complex conversation with this drunken crazy?

Wide eyed, she shuffled back. “I have issues with that as well I’m afraid.” A high-society mare not bein’ able t’ speak their mind – that was a first. She brushed over the utterance swiftly. “I-I …ugh,” she gagged, startin’ t’ look a lot paler for a white (or should I say light gray) mare. 

“You alright, sug –” I started, before she pushed me aside t’ empty her stomach in a nearby trash bin.

Why me? 

Brushing her mane back, I soothed her neck with a hoof. I ain’t gonna lie, it sounded and looked awful. I sighed deeply, keepin’ my eyes on anythin’ but. 

She cleared her throat, proddin’ the bin away. “S-sorry, I’m so pathetic!” she whined. 

“You ain’t! Now, get your skinny hide home -” I pointed t’ the doorway “- and get lots o’ bed rest. Okay?” I spoke sternly, but reassuringly. 

Smilin’ strangely again, she whispered, “Okay, Apple … I mean … Miss.” Inchin’ slowly closer, she hugged me softly. I jus’ let it happen; it didn’t come as a shock. I felt her nuzzle into my damp coat, her breath rufflin’ it slightly. My heart did this weird kinda jump thing, as she let go. All I could do was gawk at her. 

“Bye,” she spoke softly. After standin’ a second longer, she stepped into the mammoth door. I tipped my hat, as she’d walked away, listenin’ t’ her hooves against the title floor. 

When the clops faded, I watched the slow flutter and glide across the courtyard. Takin' a final look back at the magnificent buildin’, I trotted away into the cobbled street. 

Well, that was that. 

I smirked t’ myself. “I got some martini glasses t’ clean.” 
          
> Chapter Five: Planking Out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 5 – Planking Out 





One Year and Seven Months Later. 






Boxes.

Boxes here, boxes there, and boxes – well, you get the idea. If I ever saw another box again, so help me, I was going to slap my horn against the nearest wall – not the most pleasurable of sensations I may add. My head already felt like scrambled egg; the bone shattering might have finished me off, though, blacking out seemed to have its benefits. I wouldn’t have to look at those unsightly cubes anymore, and I could get some sleep. Trust me, after the day I’d had, the prospect was starting to look like a luxury. I was exhausted. Oh, and don’t forget hot, practically incinerating. So, when my whole body began perspiring – that was the final straw.

Oh, the shame! 

What was I thinking? Once I get an idea in that head of mine it’s nigh on impossible to divert me from it. In this instance, I doubt even my own conscience could have convinced me to cease. You shouldn’t blame me though; the task at hoof had to get finished. This was my new home after all. 

Now when I say “home”, at this point in time, it was anything but. I’ll put this in the nicest way possible. It looked like a hurricane had blown through, flipped it upside down, then lightening had struck it multiple times, before it caught on fire. 

No, really. This thing was dilapidated!

In all honesty, I must have had some kind of mental breakdown – that can be the only explanation. If I had gazed upon it now, I would have paid some teenage ruffians to commit arson upon it. Actually, I’d have been happy to have done it by my own hoof! Put it out of its misery; burn it to the ground, rid the town of that eye sore.

Oh, but it was my eye sore. All mine. 

For a potential squatters’ hive, it was quite the bargain. A two hundred bit deposit, then only another five for the next year. Also, I might have bestowed some “pony charm” on the real estate agent who’d sold it to me. Laugh all you want but it shaved a third off the price that little stunt did. Not to worry, I only went on a date with the fellow, nothing to get your tail in a bunch over. Yes, it was awful, but none the less, it got me this “beauty”. 

As you can guess, in its decrepit state, it was cheap. They were practically giving it away. It defiantly wasn’t love at first sight, but it gave me a new “artistic vision”. 

I was going to restore that building and create my own business!

I couldn’t have just bought a new hat or something. No, I had to go buy a rusty, old grain mill. Well, I think it was a grain mill – that’s what the real estate stallion had said. It explained why it was so bulky, circular, and full of sawdust. The interior utterly repulsed me. Its dark, shabby floorboards, and in particular the surprise mould infestation in the kitchen made my stomach churn. What a “lovely” welcome gift. 

It was obvious somepony had tried their own hoof at some restoration, and then given it up as a bad job. Bad job indeed. If I haven’t convinced you enough how much this was a “good idea”, you should have seen upstairs. The second floor was – no word of a lie – horrid. It only took a swift look and an unexplainable clatter to coax me back downstairs. However, this provided just enough time for me to visualise a workroom and bedroom from the rotting, yet perfect, structures. But secretly, it gave me quite a fright. The creaks and groans with each wind howl weren’t to my liking, and I think some owls had become permanent residents in the loft. Long story short, was I fudge sleeping up there. 

I’d made a little temporary one room living space on the ground floor until construction would get underway. It wasn’t much, a bed, my sewing machine, some crockery and a kettle. Heavens, I was like a cave pony! Oh, and don’t forget the boxes. My boxes and I, together forever. 

I’d started unpacking from a delivery wagon my father had lent me. Despite the wonky wheel, it was better than making a hundred trips across town to my parent’s house. I could have stayed with them, but I wanted to get settled in. Anyway, who wants to move back in with their parents after three years living on your own? Definitely not.

The fact I couldn’t levitate heavy objects, and it was a billion degrees outside was not to my advantage. Being only accustomed to a needle or fabric, boxes of household items weren’t my levitation forte. After twenty minutes, fatigue swiftly took over. Celestia help me. Actually, forget that, it was the princess who had made it so bloody hot. 

Several glasses of lemonade, a vigorous fan wave and mane tidying later, I was feeling pony again. Still, without an automatic fan, I was being baked alive in this aged, wooden oven. I grunted, kicking an empty box when I couldn’t find one in the sea of organised chaos.    

I didn’t regret wandering outside, surprisingly it was much cooler. The sky was an immaculate blue, without a single cloud stain. If anything, it was rather blinding. Grabbing my best pair of sunglasses from the window sill, I started to inspect the mill’s exterior. 

This was the building's downfall. Maybe the phrase “fall down at any moment” would’ve been more fitting. The sun bleached, cracked paintwork made me grimace. With no trees around, in a relatively open area of town, this was a problem. But, nothing a new lick of paint couldn’t fix. 

Circling round the base, I wiped some aging dust from a window. The neighbourhood was relatively quiet. Sure, there was a bridge and stone pathway nearby, but I’d only seen a few carts passing. Ponyville hadn’t changed at all, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. 

Three years in Canterlot really does make you appreciate the simpler things in life. Who needs a hundred different stores? Well okay, perhaps I do, but Ponyville certainly didn’t. But it did have the best bakery. Soon as I got home I was straight to Sugarcube Corner for a banana muffin. That was before the new apprentice mare dive bombed me with confetti. 

I reached the front, scanning the length of the structure. The mill’s propellers had been snapped in several places, only one still hanging on by a fibre. I had to assume it was the aftermath of a treacherous storm. Pulling it down would prove disastrous, especially with my weak spell power. Best to leave it be. Without a doubt, my work was cut out for me. 

What caught my eye was the strange inclusion of thin support pillars wrapping the outside. They were quite darling, odd, but in a comforting way. It made the whole building have the likeness of a carousel, which I found rather joyous.  About the only thing that wasn’t positively beastly on the house. 

Speaking of, all the windows were bordered up with wood planks, each accompanied with a set of rusty nails beaten inside. The possibility of a discomforting scandal rolled through my mind. Ponies would assume I was a hermit or crazy cat lady. 

Goodness me, those revolting things had to go!    

My first attempt was an utter embarrassment, as I staggered away from the unyielding plank. I had neither the potency, nor physique for such a labouring job. I wasn’t the type of mare to have a tool box or anything to that effect lying around either. Imagine it, moi with a hammer!  

Taking up a more rigid, box stance (I know “box”, hilarious), I gave another yank. This particular board was more willing and bent slightly. My half-hearted effort was understandable, since I was uneager to chip a hoof. However, I couldn’t deny this pompous piece of timber was getting on my last nerve. My face was progressing in shades of redness and sweat, painting the scene of a mad mare. A sudden jolt raised my spirits, but when only one of the four nails fell free, they crashed down once more. 

The thumping in my head was so prevalent I thought my brain would spring out. A blurred haze enveloped my vision, as I seethed with indignation, unleashing fury upon the inanimate object. 

“You will come off!” I snorted irritably, draping the board in a flourish of magic. 

A small creak and shudder resonated with each swing of my horn, wheeling me backwards in anticipation. Wild eyed and teeth bared, I included the pull of my forehooves to the act. I expected the whole wall to travel with me when bestowing the plank with a final, anger driven, burst of magic. 

“Come off! You stupid, infuriating piece of –” 

The plank pounced forward, my hooves becoming knotted as I pried it free. The spell held firm by my enraged concentration, while the timber coiled backwards still drifting in mid-air from the force of the swing. My sudden wave of pride was cut short, and a snide “ha” barely escaped my lips, when the object I was wielding jolted to an abrupt stop.   

My neck snapped around. The plank’s other end had lodged itself quite comfortably between the eyes of another pony, cracking their forehead down to oblivion.

I’m not sure what hit the ground first. The lifeless form went down hard at my hooves, planting its face into a small flowerbed under the window ledge. The board fell to the earth with a woody, hollow clunk when I released it. 

Oh my giddy aunt! 

Holy mother of Celestia, strike my flank with a bolt of lightning. 

I’d killed her. Dead. Her corpse to spend eternity in my patch of petunias!

For first time that day my brain banished every logical thought process. My hooves wiggled, as I danced on the spot completely petrified. One might compare the similarities to a merry, folk pony jig, my eyes flailing about like those of a shifty thief. 

“Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh!” I foolishly thought somepony would appear to my, and more importantly, the mare’s rescue. However, not a soul was around. 

I crouched to roll her muzzle out of the dirt, revealing a bulging lump and bruise atop her head. The mare was heavy, as I discovered by my poor attempt to lift her. My legs buckled under the strain, her muscular frame crushing me. 

I couldn’t leave the poor dear out here to scorch, and I wasn’t best impressed at the notion of trying to explain why there was a mare unconscious on my front lawn. 

“Let’s … get you … ugh … inside.”

My technique of simply dragging the earth pony by the forehooves was getting more pressing results. I noticed her cutie mark was three apples, and presumed the large unattended wagon of harvest by the roadside belonged to the mare. Celestia knew what she was going to say before I blackened her world. 

Getting a stronger hold by slipping my hooves under her forelegs, she bounced up the front steps, while I painfully heaved her through the doorway. She was so limp a small breeze would have blown her limbs like a windsock. I bit my lip when her flaccid head slammed against the door frame. I considered myself so dense; the only suitable punishment was to slap my own noggin with a slab of lumber. Producing a low whine of concern, I considered the earth pony not waking up a possibility. Sending a quiet prayer to the goddesses, I grabbed the cowpony hat from the grass in my magic, before closing the door.   

Deciding on where to place my new house guess was hardly a strenuous decision. The barren, dust wasteland of the front room didn’t excel in providing hospitality and comfort. A squeaky scrape resonated from the mare’s hooves against the floorboards, as my pounding heart crashed through my rib cage. 

With a final burst of strength, I hurled the mare onto my still wrapped chaise longue. The bubble wrap gave many of those familiar satisfying pops, absorbing the earth pony’s body. She lay unmoving, breathing silently, which was a relief. At least she appeared “okay”, just unconscious. 

I suppose I could only stare intently, imploring her to wake. Upon inspection, her pretty face and wholesome, down to earth mare look was rather charming. I was just observing of course, but no doubt it stayed rather prevalent in the back of my mind.  

“Excuse me, Madame?” I prodded her side, speaking in hushed tones. Startling her wouldn’t aid the situation. Her forehead was burning and swollen, as I swept her mane off her face with a hoof, resting it to feel her temperature.

She was becoming flushed and stirred slightly, clearly indicating her need to cool down. I rattled my head trying to stop looking and start actually helping my victim. Unnecessarily, my chest gave a pang when she furrowed her brow because I’d got up.        

I coughed awkwardly, realising my hoof was still stroking the mare’s mane. “I-I'll get you some water,” I announced, fleeing to the kitchen. Obviously she didn’t hear me, but I was too lost in pointless thought to care. 

Oh crumbs! What would she say when she woke up? What would she do? If it was anything less than a beating parallel to her own I’d have gotten off scot free. 

Releasing as much fresh air into the room by opening every window, I settled a glass of water on the nearby table. The orange mare was unmoving again, but recovering slowly. Chances were she’d wake up any moment and let loose a river of anger and explicit language. Cowering at the prediction, I headed for the front door; I really didn’t want to be the first thing she laid eyes on.

“I’ll just … go get your wagon from the road.” A slab of drool slithered down her cheek. “Why do I bother?”

It was the least I could do, collect her cart full of apples. Unlikely there would be a sudden crime wave, and somepony take off with it, but it would put my mind at ease. I’m sure leaving her was a bad idea; however I needed to calm down. 

I launched myself against the monstrous harness, creeping the cart forward painfully slow. How many apples did a pony need? I was going nowhere, as my hooves scrambled against the grass, sliding with the friction. The wagon bounced alarmingly, as we passed from stone pathway to lawn. 

It must have taken around fifteen minutes before I finally got the wagon round the back of the house, parking it next to my father's. Great, I was all sweaty and dirty again. I trotted into the house before anypony dare see me in this ghastly state. The titles clacked against my hooves when I dived into the bathroom to adjust my unperfected mane.

This was the worst day ever. I’d almost killed somepony, and to top it off my mane was messy. Why me?

I’d only just taken a swig of some water by the kitchen sink when I realised a disturbance in the living room. Barely out the door frame, the mare’s face clouded my vision, pushing me back to a state of unrest. My eyes widened in concern, when she stomped towards me, her mouth snarling. Clearly, she didn’t take too kindly to her beating. 

“What did ya do!” she snapped, ushering me back, my flank tapping the worktop. Her stare was harsh and piecing, as if looking through me. I cowered, searching for something to use as a shield when the mare would start battering me black and blue. The most effective thing I could manage was a toaster. 

I was doomed.

She obviously saw straight through my effort to stay collected. My brain whirred, straining to find a response, while I pushed the sunglasses into my mane.

“I-I … well … let’s not get mad shall we.” My lip quivered when she jabbed at my chest. I begged she wouldn’t be too harsh on my face when she would finally decide to pulverise me. 

“Mad? Ya’ll are not gonna know what hit cha’ if ya don’t find it!” She stomped a hoof, inching closer.

Clenching my eyes shut, I prepared for the mare to strike. Wait, “find it”? What was she talking about? I hope she wasn’t just taunting me.

Fluttering my eyelashes, I gawked rather quizzical. “Find w-what?”

As she paced back and forth, I thought she could breathe fire she was so livid. Her nostrils flared and snorted when she spoke.

“My hat! My hat, ya useless foal!” She stormed into the living room huffing. “Ugh, I’ll find it my buckin’ self!” 

I do admit her ignorance, and rather crude turn of phrase, were cutting at my emotions. But, I owed it to her not to engage in a spiteful comment or two back, I did just render her unconscious after all. 

Following her thunderous clomps and clatters, as she proceeded to scavenge through my “organised chaos”, I stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised in frustration. 

“Excuse me, darling,” I announced over her boisterous clanking. 

“WHAT?” The earth pony’s attention now fully on me, her stare was so firm I might burst into flame. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but –” I coughed sternly, nodding at the coat rack holding the tatty, brown Stetson. 

“Oh.” 

Her features transformed into a gracious smile, as she hurried over, before plastering the thing firm on her head. She tipped the brim, shifting her gaze to me. 

“I …” she began, still confused by the situation. I was no different, cringing at the agonizing silence between us. 

“I’m sorry!” we both blurted, only confused at the other’s parallel concern. The awkward laughing was worse than the silence. Hopefully, she’d speak first and rid me of my undeniable embarrassment. At least she wasn’t mad anymore. 

“I’m a might sorry, ma’am” – Timidly she walked to me –“I didn’t mean t’ holler at ya, it’s jus’ I wouldn’t know what t’ do if I’d gone and lost this baby.” She eyed the old hat, huffing deeply. 

“Uhh …” I chuckled nervously, trying to find a logical explanation why this was the only reason she’d sort to be angry. “It’s quite alright, but you should know a coat rack is usually where one would find their hat. Y-you must really love that thing.”

Laughing, she walked over to look at a pile of boxes. I tapped my head in complete bewilderment. Had I knocked the sense out of her? Was she not aware I’d pummelled her poor head?

“Sure do. It my par’s,” she explained. I just nodded. It was rather familiar to me, well, for a Stetson. 

“Miss, although you seem perfectly fine, I must insist you sit down. You may have suffered a minor concussion or something to that affect, and … dear Celestia, it was me who did it!” Wailing, I crossed over to her. “Please forgive me … it-it was an accident. I s-swear! You were ju-just there, and before I knew it …”

“Hold yer horses, Missy. Ya ain’t got no reason t’ fret. I’m jus’ peachy,” she consoled, resting a hoof on my shoulder. “Ya gotta powerful swing there, jus’ my mistake fer walkin’ into it.”

“B-but!”

“Trust me, I’m fine.” Her smile was reassurance enough that she was being honest, she was fine. I was all to relieved that she had been. I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I’d hurt somepony, having never hit anypony in my life, except for today. 

“At least let me get you an ice pack for that bump,” I insisted, fetching one out of the freezer. “What in Equestria were you doing behind me anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Levitating the pack over, she placed it to her head, wincing when the ice connected, creating a bitter sting. She gave a weary “thank you” and gingerly rested on the sofa. 

“Well, I was jus’ passin’ by on a delivery, and I saw all those boxes out front. This house has been abandoned for an awful long time, so I reckon somepony had finally moved in. Then, I saw ya’ll strugglin’ with that ol’ plank and thought I’d lead a hoof, and … well ya know the rest,” she explained pressing the ice into her skull. 

She kept on staring at me intently, as if concocting some analysis. I assumed she was just trying to adjust her head after blacking out, however it was very agitating. Or, she just really liked to look at me. I knew a lot of ponies did, but stallions! Not, well … I plugged my horn, discarding the stupid thought.  

“Hey, speakin’ of delivery, my wagon of apples okay? I’d jus’ left em’ by the road,” she asked slightly alarmed when I sat down beside her. 

“Oh yes, I pulled them around to the garden. They were incredibly heavy mind you; I must wonder why one would be in need of so many apples. However, I saw your cutie mark I made the connection. Still, you must really love them. What is your name? Applesauce?” 

I thought my joke quite amusing, until she leapt up with a sudden burst of energy. It wasn’t that bad was it?

“I knew it! –” She waved her hooves towards me “—I could swear I knew ya from someplace.”

I stared, very confused. “Huh, where?” I’d never seen this mare in my life!

“Canterlot, last New Year’s Eve! I had t’ carry your sorry flank around town cos’ ya were blind drunk! Gosh, I remember now. Ya’ll came into my uncle’s bar and got so unbelievably –”

“No, no. I think you have me mistaken for somepony else.” The nerve of this mare, to think I would ever get “blind drunk”. 

“No, I ain’t. Ya’ll were a Canterlot University student, right? ”

Okay, that was just a lucky guess. “W-well yes, but I would not –” 

“Ya kept on callin’ me Applesauce and fallin’ in the snow. Gee, ya were a pain.” She was in awe as if reminiscing about the old times. I begged her to reveal how I fit into this equation. 

“That’s preposterous! I would never do such a thing,” I huffed, legs folded, slumping into the couch with a pop. 

“Yeah-hah, how can cha’ not remember?”

“Nuh-uh, I don’t recall it, because I wasn’t there!” I moaned, not backing down. Who did she think she was? She didn’t even know me!

She stomped a hoof. “Yeah-hah, ya were too!”

“Nuh-uh, it is not true,” I declared, making the mare grit her teeth in annoyance. 

“Ya callin’ me a liar! Ya’ll were there!”

“Perhaps,” I purred, stepping up to her. She was a smidge taller, but I tried my hardest to overpower her stance. “And, Nuh-uh I wasn’t!”

“Yeah-hah!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-HAH!”

Oh, Celestia this fight was ridiculous. Similar to that of a young colt and his imaginary friend – pointless. On the one hoof, I was considerably happy to have met somepony on my first day back. However, on the other, I didn’t realise I would have met my match for being as stubborn as a mule. And believe me, I was good at it. Not that I meant to be, that’s just who I am I suppose.

“Nuh-UH!” I leant forward, emphasizing my words. 

“Ugh, ya broke up with your coltfriend!” she snapped, waving the ice pack at me.

“Nuh … uh,” I whispered. How did she know that? Heavens, I couldn’t even remember his name. Granite maybe? The combination of trying to place this mare and some rotten stallion was too much. 

She moaned at my defiance. “YA GREY!” 

That certainly got my attention. My eyes widened at the mare’s outburst, shuffling me backward in astonishment. 

“H-hey! How dare you –” My mind jumped like finding the correct piece of the puzzle. 

Oh, no. 

No wonder I couldn’t remember that night, because I’d chosen not to. The memory was hazy and clouded by the all too familiar musk of vodka. That’s why that hat was memorable. The morning after, I’d dreamed about it, except it was floating, the wearer was just a blur. And here I thought one of my “friends” had walked me home. I scowled at the thought of those selfish brutes. 

After some inaudible babble, I found my words. “Oh … OH! –” I slapped at my cheeks, hiding my shame “— Oh for the love of Celestia! I remember.”

I flopped back into the couch, covering my eyes. The mare stayed silent for a moment, but then proceeded to laugh. At first, I wanted to whack her with another plank of wood, but her chuckle was contagious. Instead, I just joined her. 

“Woo wee, ya’ll are a strange one all give ya that. Don’t worry none, I won’t tell no-pony.”  

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had the common courtesy not to spout my horrendous feats. That I could respect. This mare was okay, a little stubborn, but … okay. 

“How humiliating! I am terribly sorry for my behaviour and for doubting you, but as you can presume, I couldn’t recall much because of being … “under the influence”.” I straightened my posture, scraping back my last remaining shreds of dignity.

“It’s alright, ma’am. I forgive ya. It happens t’ the best of us.” She handed me back the ice with a smirk, her swelling had gone down. I was pleased she was felling well again. 

“Oh please,” I urged, waving a hoof. “Call me Rarity.”

She shook my foreleg with such force, I wobbled uncontrollably. “Howdy Miss Rarity, I’m Applejack. A pleasure t’ meet cha’,” she announced, beaming at me.  

“Err, the pleasures all mine,” I informed, my leg still shaking wildly. “So … would you like some help with your wagon?” 

She smirked, adjusting her hat. “Well, I was gonna ask ya’ll if ya needed a hoof with unpackin’? I ain’t got no place pressin’ t’ be.”

I lit up at the prospect of her staying. I’m not exactly sure why, perhaps it was just because I’d have some company. However, I was feeling much better now, and not guilty for nearly breaking her brain. 

“Okay then, since you’re offering, that is most kind of you.” I scanned around for a fitting task my new friend could do. Yes, friend. “Hmm, there. Judging by that wagon, you’re a strong mare. C-could you take those boxes of books upstairs, Applejack?” 

I hated asking favours of somepony I hardly knew, but she did offer. Now I could get moved in much faster. 

“Sure thing,” she chimed, in her strange, but sweet accent. Which I must admit, I rather liked. 

She crossed over to the mountain of cardboard; picking a box which I’d inscribed “books” on the side of. Blowing away a layer of dust, she cracked open a flap to peek in. I’d only just picked up my duster, when the earth pony gave a loud, filly-like shriek, scrambling away. 

“What? What is it?” I gulped, trotting over. She looked at me then the box with concern. I’d packed this myself, what could possibly be in there? I’d only moved a step forward, before the box produced a high-pitched hiss and rustling.

Our hearts lurched when the creature sprang out onto the floor in front of us. Applejack stared at me for an explanation, but I just groaned in irritation.

“Oh my stars,” I murmured, inching closer. “It’s you again.” 

The cat hissed, swiping at the box. “Heavens t’ Betsy, ya’ll almost gave me a heart attack,” Applejack grunted, creeping to get a better look at my new guest. 

“I’m sorry about that. This is a … my cat –” I shuffled away then it gawked at me “— well, technically it is mine. It was here when I moved in, hiding in an old cupboard.”

Applejack was less cautious than I, reaching out a hoof to stroke the feline. 

“Come on little feller,” she reassured the animal, dipping down to its level. 

“I wouldn’t do that if–” 

“Don’t ya worry, he’s jus’ got the willies, ain’t cha’ –” The cat lashed out at the orange mares hoof, leaving three small scratches. “—OW! Hey, ya little vermin!” she spat, falling back next to me. 

“It’s not very … fond of me,” I began, helping her up. “Or anypony for that matter.”

The beast gave a final, powerful hiss, before turning to lick its unmentionables. 

“Charmin’,” Applejack huffed, rubbing her bleeding hoof. I lent her the ice pack once more. She was getting a right beating today. 

“I’m unsure of what to do. It’s not in my nature to cast the poor thing off just to starve, but at the same time she’s rather ungrateful of my hospitality!” I threatened, swishing my tail towards the swine. 

Applejack’s feelings were mutual, as she grumbled in approval, tending to her wound. “I hear ya.”

“She won’t accept any food I try to give her, and anytime I go near she just takes a swipe at me,” I moaned worryingly. Despite her unpleasant attitude, I thought with a little guidance, she could be quite the pleasant pet. I had always wanted one.

“I got it!” Applejack blurted, surprising me. “I know jus’ the pony t’ help ya.”

“Oh?” I trotted over, when she grabbed a pencil from the table. 

“A couple o’ months ago, a nice Pegasus mare from Cloudsdale moved t’ Ponyville. She knows a heap o’ stuff bout’ critters,” she explained, starting to write something on the pad I’d given her. 

I peeped over her shoulder at the map she’d drew in sloppy mouth writing. “Do you think she could help me?”

“Definitely, she took good care of my dog Winona when she had a bad paw. Fixed her right up.” She beamed, handing me the map. “She lives in a cottage on the edge o’ town. She’s gotta a little animal day-care thing going on.”

“How sweet,” I commented, following the earth pony’s map. Home near the Everfree Forest, this mare must be brave. 

“Hey, on second thought, why don’t I …” She shifted on the spot.   

“Hmm?” 

“T-take ya there. It’s not far and she knows me, plus ya’ll might need a hoof with … err … ya cat,” she suggested, with a wavering smile. 

I glanced back, confused by her anxiousness. What was she worried about, that I would refuse?

“That would be wonderful,” I beamed, nodding as I did so. 

“U-ugh, great! –” She trotted towards the door “—Ya know I think I have my rope in the wagon, that might hold that crazy critter still.” 

I giggled, following her. A warm feeling arose inside me, it was bizarre, but at the same time brilliant. I had a new, genuine friend, which liked me for me. Not like those posers in Canterlot. When Applejack smiled at me, I blushed alarmingly. I guess it was because I was thinking off her as my new companion at that exact moment, as well as catching me off guard. 

“S-so,” I asked. “What is this delightful Pegasus’name?” 

We walked out into the blistering heat once more, Applejack leading the way. As we passed by, I marvelled at my new home. Earlier I’d thought of it as a disaster, but now I thought of it as opportunity. Goodness knows why, I presumed it was something to do with today’s mad turn of events. All I knew was – I was home. 

“Oh,” she chirped. “It’s Fluttershy.”  
> Chapter Six: Spaghetti! 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Six – Spaghetti!





Six Elements of Harmony, a Mare in the Moon, a Draconequus, a Changeling Queen, an Evil King 
and 
many an adventure later. 









“I wish the waiter pony would hurry up already. I’m so hungry!”

“Pinkie, you ate three cupcakes before we left!”

“Oh, yeah … I forgot.”

I chuckled to myself as Pinkie and Twilight continued their regular back and forth. However amusing, Twilight was right; the pink mare had indeed eaten three vanilla cupcakes before leaving for the restaurant. I was quite envious; she could probably eat an entire Canterlot buffet and not put on a pound. I, on the other hoof, would gain a stone from eating a whole grain cracker. Lucky mare. 

All this talk of food was making my stomach growl. The delay was due to the restaurant being absolutely packed. However, it was the finest in town, so naturally, everypony wanted to dine there. But I wanted my friends to experience the best. Plus, the wine was exquisite.

We all sat around the table, enjoying the light snowfall outside. It was beautiful, just the view to sit and have lunch by. If they had only known how hard it had been to get a reservation around Hearth’s Warming Eve. Thankfully, I’d managed to pull a few strings and get a booking. The bustle of ponies and the clinking of glasses had distracted me from the conversation across the table. It wasn’t anything too refined, just something about Pinkie fitting six cupcakes in her mouth once. 

“You’re lying,” Rainbow snorted, rolling her eyes. Pinkie being Pinkie, enacted her cupcake eating technique, stretching her cheeks with both hooves.

“I’m not, my mouth was like this!” she mumbled, her face resembling that of a piece of dough. 

The six of them laughed hysterically, causing the classy onlookers to perk their noses in disgust. Normally a situation like this would have mortified me. I would have insisted they “shush” or “be more civil”, reminding them how this was a refined establishment. But today, they could have set off ten party cannons and I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. In all honestly, I would have joined them. 

The laughing ceased when the waiter coughed, looking slightly dishevelled and rather annoyed. Twilight took the lead and ordered, asking a detailed analysis of every dish, which the stallion wasn’t prepared for. Simultaneously, we all slumped into our chairs, well aware of how long this was going to take. 

“Rarity.”

I nearly jumped ten feet when an all too familiar voice whispered in my ear, a breath skimming my fur. Goodness knows why, but I was on edge, worried even. This day was rather remarkable, but at the same time heartbreaking.

With an awkward grin, I craned my neck round slowly towards Applejack sitting beside me.“Y-yes, darling,” I murmured softly back. 

“Will ya —” She fidgeted, holding the menu between us “— order fer me?” 

I sighed, taking the other side of the menu in a hoof. I don’t know why, but I thought she was going to ask something else. Don’t ask me what, because I didn’t know that either, she just seemed to be in a strange mood. 

I beamed, trying not to laugh at her sweet unawareness of everything elegant. “Oh, of course, dear.” I winked, scanning the menu for something my farmer friend would find delectable. 

“Thanks, sugarcube, I don’t understand all that fancy Istallian food, and ugh … words,” she groaned, looking anywhere but at me.

“What are you two school fillies whispering about over there?” Rainbow snickered, over the sound of Twilight’s rambling.

Applejack blushed alarmingly, her ears perking at the rainbow mare’s question. I raised an eyebrow, folding down the menu. That Rainbow Dash, she could never keep her nose out of another pony’s business. Sure, I loved gossip a little too much, but she could never let things lie. Reading Applejack’s expression, she seemed rather anxious about the situation. I didn’t understand.

To defend the earth pony from any further embarrassment, I was quick to respond. “Oh, Rainbow, we were just discussing what you might look like in my new, winter line dress. It would make you look positively darling. You know, I still need a model for my shoot,” I purred, waving a hoof in emphasis.     

That made her shut her muzzle. Wide eyed, she backed away as if I’d offered to clip her wings. “What? No way, Rare. You know how I hate all that frilly dress-up stuff!” She could pretend all she wanted – that had obviously rustled some feathers. 

Twilight had finally finished her meal by meal examination, much to our satisfaction. The silence however, was very short lived.

“Spaghetti!” Pinkie blurted, waving her hooves like the Wonderbolts had just done a fly by. Upon the waiter asking which spaghetti dish in particular, she continued to slam at the table, upsetting the cutlery. 

“Spa-spa-spaghetti! Spa-spa-spaghetti!” she sang, beaming at the waiter. 

“Alright, I get it,” he muttered. 

The ordering continued around the table. Fluttershy’s order I didn’t hear, and Rainbow rattled off a number of dishes, explaining how she “needed to keep her strength up”. Finally, he approached me with a gleam of hope in his eye; expecting my order to be “suitable for the establishment”. 

“I will have the mushroom risotto with rocket salad, but I want that on the side, and I don’t want the parmesan on the top, I want it on the side. If there is no parmesan then just the salad, but with red cabbage instead of rocket.”   

“Ugh … okay.” The waiter nodded sternly, trying his best to keep up. I felt Applejack huff in annoyance, lounging back into her chair.

“And my —” I turned to her, smiling slightly “— good friend here will have the linguine with celery root, cream and apples, but do remove the onion would you, she’s allergic.” I floated over my menu, feeling hungrier than ever. “Oh, and your finest bottle of champagne.” 

He smiled contently, collecting the others menus. 

“H-hey,” Spike piped up, just as the waiter turned to leave. “And some hay fries, extra crispy!” 

“Of course, sir.”  

I’d only just turned to listen to Twilight’s newest book recommendation, when my neighbour disturbed me again, budging a hoof in my side. 

“Rare,” she uttered under her breath. I inched closer, still looking at Twilight. 

She’d been calling me that a lot lately, “Rare”. I was quite used to it, considering Rainbow would yell it at me often enough. Sometimes even Fluttershy would say it, but in a much nicer tone. Applejack, however, she never called me anything remotely close to a nickname. Okay, maybe “sugarcube”, but she said that to everypony. Was that what this was, a nickname? I dismissed the thought immediately, because that would insinuate we were “good pals”. 

At the moment, this was the last definition that came to mind.

In our little circle of friends, we all had things we would do with one another, which is expected of any friendship group. Twilight and Rainbow read Daring Do. Applejack and Pinkie baked. Fluttershy and I went to the spa. Spike followed me around begging to be of assistance. 

Applejack and I, we argued. 

We’d gotten rather good at it actually. If the Equestrian Games ever considered making arguing an official sport we would win for sure. Usually, it was just the odd, mutual disagreement, a little clash of personality, I suppose. This, I was used to. Every friendship needs some healthy quarrels. But the last few months had been … difficult. 

It had become constant, like clockwork, and not just the odd, tame jest either. They had escalated in harshness and volume. Which left me feeling, well, hurt... I knew deep down she didn’t mean it, but her darned honest nature would get under my skin, just as I would undoubtedly get under hers. 

But do you know what the worst part was? 

The next day I’d go help her pick apples. Then, she’d return the favour and assist in some sewing or go to the fabric store with me, like nothing was wrong. Even now, I can’t make any sense of it.  

“Yes, darling,” I whispered softly, trying not to seem rude to the alicorn, still ranting on.

“How’d ya know onions don’t agree with my gut?” she mumbled sternly, looking at Twilight also. 

“W-well.” How did I know? It was Applejack. I guess, I just knew. “You … told me, didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so, I ain’t told many ponies jus’ encase Rainbow or Pinkie decided to pull some prank, and give me a onion cake or somethin’.” She snorted down the table at the pair, taking a sip of water. 

I contained my amusement at the absurd notion of Pinkie actually creating an onion cake. “I suppose I just know. You are my best friend after all,” I chirped, grinning brightly at the farmer. However, her response was slightly unnerving, as she spluttered on some water. 

“B-best friend?” she uttered, through her effort to regain her breath. As I tapped at her back with a hoof, my mind insisted that I had said nothing out of the ordinary.  

“Of course, darling. Why would you think any differently?”

I couldn’t understand why she seemed so startled, everyone at that table I considered my best friends. The earth pony shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as she dug through her brain for a response. 

“I-I just —”

“Your champagne, Mademoiselles,” the waiter announced, pushing over a silver tray with six glasses. My companions gave a collective cheer of admiration; as the waiter popped the cork and began to pour, liquid sloshing into each glass. Applejack sighed contently and gave me a weak smile, as our attention was drawn towards the stallion. 

“Ooo, bubbly.” Pinkie beamed, inspecting the wine glass, before lapping up some of its contents, thinking no-pony would notice. 

Twilight took a more civilised sip, nodding at me to show her approval of the favour. “I know you’re always treating us to gifts, Rarity, but this must have cost the best part of a hundred bits!” she said, wide-eyed. 

“Yeah, what’s the deal with the fancy shindig and the overpriced wine?” Rainbow scanned all our faces, taking a hearty gulp of her drink.

I placed my glass down, tapping at it with a hoof. I guess it was time to tell them. No time like the present. All of them were looking at me with questioning expressions, as I glanced up for a second. 

“Yes, Rarity. What is all this for?” Fluttershy smiled sweetly. 

“Well.” I straightened my posture, preparing for their reactions. “It is kind of a celebration.”

They each in turn gave a confused look, unsure of what I meant. All except Pinkie, who gasped in excitement, waving her forehooves. 

“You mean like a party! What’s it for? Tell me, tell me!” She rocked on her chair, eager to hear my explanation. The others joined her, leaning closer. I stared at their smiling faces, knowing that soon they would change to disappointed ones.

“I-I … ugh … you’ve heard of Fancy Pants?” I began, trying to remain collected. There were a few nods and “huh-uh’s”. Rainbow scratched her mane, still unsure. 

“Fancy what?” she snorted. 

“Pants!” her pink neighbour blurted into her face. “You know, Rarity’s Canterlot coltfriend.”

I groaned, drowning my embarrassment into my wine glass. For once could Pinkie think before she spoke? Just once. 

“He ain’t her coltfriend!” Applejack barked, slumping into her seat. 

Thank you, Applejack! At least somepony saw reason. “Exactly, he is more of an associate, if you will.” 

Rainbow flicked her mane, pushing Pinkie back into her own section of the table. “Alright, jeez, I remember.”

“Yes … well, he is quite the entrepreneur. He wrote to me explaining how he was opening a new boutique in Manehattan, and insisted I attend the grand opening,” I explained, my stomach giving a barely tolerable lurch. 

“Like a date?” Pinkie smirked. The final drop of her drink dripped onto her tongue.

“No!” I shot her a piercing stare. “As a guest. But, there was a slight dilemma and the store manager had to move back to Canterlot.”

Fluttershy spoke from behind a curtain of pink mane. “Oh, dear. Why?”

“I’m not sure, some kind of family emergency. Fancy didn’t go into much detail.” 

“So, why are we celebrating then?” Spike questioned, chomping on a piece of bread.          

“Ugh.” I could feel my chest tightening. The sudden complex combination of dread and excitement overwhelmed me. “Fancy, has … offered me the position as new store manager and designer.” 

There was a slight pause as my words seeped in. The tension continued to eat away at my confidence, and I found myself lost in thought about the sudden wave of rejection I was surely about to receive. However, I soon arrived back to reality, when the group exploded in an unexpected chorus of congratulations. 

“That’s great, Rarity,” Twilight exclaimed, gesturing her glass towards me. Fluttershy and Pinkie nodded in unison down the table. 

Rainbow flapped her wings enthusiastically. “Yeah, super awesome!”

Applejack said nothing, continuing to slip at her wine. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I’d lifted a heavy burden off my haunches. I was amazed at how understanding they all were. Surely they should have been angry or at the very least upset. I couldn’t believe it. Why had I worried?

However, it wasn’t until Fluttershy asked, “For how long, Rarity?” did my serenity suddenly crash and burn. I took a huge glug of champagne, trying to rid my throat of a bulging lump. The dry, fizzy liquid was rather soothing as it went down. Maybe I could just get completely intoxicated, then I wouldn’t have to tell them. It wasn’t one of my most ingenious ideas, but it didn’t make me consider it any less. 

The bottom of the glass revealed itself, all covered in milky foam. They all stared, awaiting my answer. I continued to gape forward. It was impossible to meet their gaze. The glass bobbed inches from my lips as I spoke. 

“Indefinitely.”

Every brow furrow and surprised gasp was a knife to my heart. The pain was no different to swallowing a box of sewing pins. In fact, that seemed like the more tolerable option. Anything to get me away from all those piercing stares. I knew it’d be hard, but not this hard. 

Each mare looked down into their drink, staying silent. I gave a melancholy sigh. This was the end of everything normal for them, for us, and … it was all my fault.  

“S-so … you’re leaving?” Spike looked up at me teary-eyed, some bread still clasped in his claw. 

I felt my heart breaking. “I’m afraid so,” I whispered, nodding sternly.

Twilight soothed her assistant’s back with a hoof, giving me a small smile. “When do you leave?”

Oh, Celestia, I was so stupid! They probably hated me now. Fancy Pants had only offered me the position last week, but I should have told them sooner. After hours of pacing around the workroom, I thought it best to wait before I sprung this news on them. I guess not. 

Don’t get me wrong, this was fantastic news too, but … it was a hard decision. I just hoped out of all ponies, my friends would understand. 

“In t-two days,” I croaked, finally looking at Twilight, then to the others. 

“Wow, I … just didn’t think it would be that soon.” Fluttershy sank into her chair, fumbling with a fork. 

Twilight nodded. “None of us did.”

They all agreed, mumbling to one another. All except Applejack. I turned to my neighbour, attempting a winning grin. She huffed, leaning forward to pour more wine, so I couldn’t see her expression. 

I knew it, at least one of them was going to hate this. I just didn’t expect it to be her. 

“Jeez, guys,” Rainbow piped up, killing the silence. “I hope you’re all not going to act like this when I leave to join The Wonderbolts. This is a good thing!” She puffed out her chest, raising her glass. 

“You’re right, Rainbow Dash!” Spike wiped away a tear, holding up his glass also. 

Twilight floated her drink to the middle of the table. “Exactly!”

I mouthed a “thank you” at Rainbow, beaming with happiness. She gave me a wink back. Yes, she was a brute, but goodness was she loyal. I lifted my glass to join the assortment of hooves linking into the table’s centre.    

Pinkie cleared her throat. “Ahem, here’s to Rarity! The most super, awesome, amazing, terrific, cool, stupendous, supercalafragalis —”

“Pinkie Pie!” we all moaned.

“Oh, right … sorry. Bestest friend a pony could have! Good luck, Rarity!” 

The glasses all gave a satisfying chink, while drops of wine pattered the table cloth. I felt an orange hoof graze against my own, as the final glass accompanied the others.

“Cheers,” we shouted, before taking a swig. I sat and marvelled at their bright, grinning faces. I truly loved them all so much. 

“Hold on a second!” Pinkie gurgled, spraying champagne everywhere. “Three days time is New Year’s Eve! Don’t tell me you’re leaving before midnight.”

I wanted to crawl into my fabric closet and hide. This was so difficult, not that I thought it was going to be easy in the first place. I could feel Pinkie’s eyes judging my every move. 

“Y-yes.” My lips quivered. I couldn’t take any more of their disappointment. It was unbearable. If only I knew an invisibility spell, anything to hide my humiliation. However, my only resolution was to slump down into my chair, holding my face in my hooves. 

“Aww, Rarity. I can’t believe you’ll miss the countdown,” Fluttershy said, slightly upset. 

Rainbow nodded frantically in agreement. “And the cider!”   

“I’m sorry, everypony,” I mumbled into the tablecloth, “but I have to leave first thing that morning. I will be missing the town square party.”

Pinkie Pie gasped uncontrollably, raising her hooves to her muzzle. “No, you won’t!” she blurted. 

Oh, goodness. What was she thinking now? I glanced up, alarmed at what the pink mare was going to suggest.

“I’ll throw you a New Year, leaving, super, combo, party extravaganza!”

I huffed, resting my head in my hooves. “Pinkie, when are you going to find the time to do this? When am I going to find the time? I still have some things to pack and –”

“Tonight at seven, Sugarcube Corner!”

“But Pinkie it’s one o'clock now! I-I …” My brain was going to explode from the pressure. This roller coaster of emotion was getting far too intense for me. I wanted to get off. 

Pinkie giggled, slurping at a fresh glass of wine. “Oh, Rarity, you make it sound as if it’s going to be hard.”

I shut my muzzle in defeat. Pinkie could whip up a party like a batch of cupcakes. Who was I to stop her? This brightened everypony’s mood, as we all grinned in excitement. 

“Ooh, let’s make it Manehattan themed. No, fashion! Oh, I can’t decide …” Pinkie continued to babble on, as the waiter arrived with our food. 

“Please, enjoy your meals.” The waiter bowed, before trotting off. 

“Spa-spa-spaghetti!” Pinkie stuck her face into her plate, covering herself in sauce. 

I levitated a forkful of risotto to my lips. It tasted divine, just as expected. I took a sideways glance at Applejack, as she rolled some pasta around her fork. 

“Darling,” I whispered from behind a hoof. She swallowed her mouthful of linguine as if eating sandpaper. Her eyes were wide and nervous when she looked at me. 

I frowned. I was sure she’d like the dish I picked for her. “Oh, sweetie, do you not like it? I’m sorry.”

She gulped again, shaking her head wildly. “No … Yes … I-I mean …” She adjusted her hat, looking back to her meal. 

“So you do like it?” What the hay was wrong with her? My dumbfounded expression probably wasn’t the most reassuring, but she was being so darn strange.

“Y-yes, it’s … amazing.” She smirked at me, blushing slightly. I sipped at my champagne, deep in thought. No matter how well you think you know somepony, they always manage to surprise you. 

I smiled brightly, turning back to my food. “Oh, wonderful.” 

I presumed she was still mad at me — that had to be it. While I chewed on a piece of lettuce, I decided it would be best to talk to her later. Perhaps, at the party. I needed to know if she was accepting of all this. 

“So, Rainbow Dash, you’re coming to the party, right?” Pinkie said with a mouth full of spaghetti. 

Dash leant back, folding her hooves. “Well, I was gonna watch paint dry,” she snickered, “but — are you kidding? I’m so there!” She enthusiastically hoof-bumped Pinkie. 

“Super-duper!” The party mare slurped up the last pasta strand protruding from her mouth. “Oh, Applejack, you’re coming too, right?” Pinkie beamed, as if finding one of her sisters’ diaries. I didn’t understand it, and by everypony else’s faces, neither did they. I just brushed it off as Pinkie nonsense. 

Applejack raised her eyebrow at the pink mare’s tone. Maybe it was just a secret joke between friends? I had no idea. However, my two earth pony companions weren’t usually like that. 

The farmer’s expression melted into a content grin. “Yes, ma’am. I wouldn’t miss it fer the world.”





My hooves jiggled a little, as the freezing, cold air nipped at my coat. I knocked at the front door to Sugarcube Corner for the third time, the raps echoing around the quiet street. It was a still, peaceful night, and there was no indication in the slightest that the town’s resident party mare was holding a soirée.

Of course, I knew better. Only moments ago, when trotting over from the boutique, I had heard the windows rattling from speakers and the laughing of party guests. Upon my first knock at the door, the music died abruptly and an audible “shh” perked my ears. An all too familiar high pitched voice said, “Quick, everypony hide!” followed by the scramble of hooves.

I rolled my eyes, while the clattering continued inside. My sigh turned into a white mist, drifting off in the breeze. This was ridiculous. Not only was I locked out of my own surprise leaving party, but it was in no way, shape or form a surprise. Once again, I found myself questioning Pinkie’s logic. When the door finally creaked open, Pinkie poked her head out, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, Rarity. I wasn’t expecting you.” She pushed the door open, upholding a serious expression. “Please, do come in.”

I groaned, walking into the bakery, which was pitch black. Pinkie followed, letting the door slam shut, and the last of the light was swallowed in darkness. I couldn’t see a hoof in front of my face. I stood in place, awaiting whatever crazy fate Pinkie had bestowed upon me. The silence was unbearable.

“Pink —” My eyes burned at the sudden burst of light, as Pinkie flicked the light switch. My vision became hazed in various shades of pink and blue, while I was continuously peppered with streamers and confetti cannons.

“Surprise!” everypony shouted, jumping out from behind their obvious hiding places. I wiped away the array of streamers to be met with a face of pink.

“Welcome to your Manehattan-fashion-pretty-pink-leaving-indefinitely surprise party!” She beamed, waving her hooves like some show mare.

“Ugh, thank you, Pinkie, but —”

“Come on, let’s get you some cake!” she announced, taking my scarf to hang on the coat rack. I turned to smile at everypony, noticing Twilight and the others emerging from behind a lamp and a small table.

“Good evening,” I greeted, as they shuffled over awkwardly.

“Turns out there’s not a lot of places to hide in an open plan bakery,” Twilight said, smiling sheepishly.

“I figured. I couldn’t see you at all behind that lamp, Fluttershy.” I laughed, making the pegasus gave a small squeak in embarrassment.

Pinkie bounced over to join the group. “Alrighty, let’s get this party started!” The music started up again and the guests went back to their chit-chat. A few smiled and nodded when I passed, as Pinkie led us to the drinks table. Practically the whole town was there. How did Pinkie manage to round up so many guests on such short notice?

“Pinkie, you do realise that for a surprise party to have an actual effect, the guest of honour has to be unaware of the event.” I sighed, picking a nice cocktail glass from the table.

“Ugh, yes?” She had no idea what I was going on about. Typical Pinkie Pie. The pink mare grabbed a muzzle full of candles, then leaped over the counter into the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back with your cake, Rarity,” she mumbled.

Twilight gulped, “I think I’d better go help, this could end in disaster.” She trotted off, unlatching a small fire extinguisher in her magic from behind the counter, before disappearing through a door.

Rainbow nodded in agreement. “Oh, Celestia. Me too!” she yelled, flying after Twilight.

I shook my head, focusing back on picking a drink. Pinkie had really outdone herself. There must have been about ten different types of punch, and countless bottles of spirits. I tapped my chin, confused. I never had issues with choosing a drink before, which wasn’t always a good thing

“Here,” that familiar southern accent announced, “try this one.” I watched as Applejack poured a yellow-green liquid into my glass. I smiled, taking a closer look.

“Oh, apple martini. Good choice,” I said, levitating the cocktail.

The farmer walked around the table to make her own beverage. “Well, it is ya favourite.”

I finished taking a sip, analysing the earth pony’s words. “H-how did you know that?” I asked, certain that I had led everypony to believe I was strictly a wine mare. 

“Ah, well, I guess I just know.” She smiled, taking a gulp of cider.

Touché, Applejack. Touché.   

“Nopony can afford to drink champagne all the time, not even you. And … Granny told me you asked her what was the best apple to make em’ with.” She laughed, leaning on the table beside me.

I chuckled also. “Oh … you got me.” As I savoured the delightful combination of flavours, my mind abandoned every worrying thought. I’d been apprehensive about this looming conversation I’d demanded myself to have. Leaving was devastating enough; the idea of Applejack being angry with me would have been the final blow. Though, once we joined together in that second of laughter, all those anxieties melted away. I couldn’t describe it.  

I turned to her and breathed, “Darling, you’re not … angry with me are you?” Oh, Celestia! I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. Wincing, I slurped at my martini. I was positively the biggest idiot in Equestria. Wow, Rarity, so subtle.

“W-what?” she spoke, looking utterly confused and panicked. “I ain’t mad at ya.”

“Oh, thank goodness! But at dinner you j-just seemed —”    

“I was kinda shocked, but who ain’t?” She stared out across the party.

I sulked at the floor, swirling my glass. “Yes, but … I waited so long to tell you – ugh, everypony. I feel positively awful!”

“Look,” she said sternly, tipping her hat back so I could admire her bold, green eyes. My chest heaved when I stared into them. I didn’t know if I was uncomfortable or having a mini heart attack. My awkward smile was hardly convincing her that I wasn’t battling with some inner turmoil.  

“I understand. This is mighty big news and I bet it was hard t’ tell folk.” Her sharp sigh made my heart pang. I knew that everypony was too kind to admit that they didn’t want me to leave, especially Applejack. A raging battle between her conscience was probably stopping the earth pony from crying out the truth. Nopony wanted me to go. “I … we are happy for you.” 

I placed my glass down and joined her in a hug. We didn’t speak. Perhaps because we didn’t know what to say, but most likely, because we didn’t need to say anything at all. It was clear she and I were over the situation, no matter how saddening it was. Well, that’s what I urged myself to believe.

“Ahem,” Fluttershy squeaked from behind me. I pushed away from Applejack’s soft form, noticing for a muscular built mare, she was pretty easy to hug. I turned away faster, when the plethora of stupid observant thoughts continued.

“Ah, Fluttershy, I didn’t realise you were there,” I mumbled, my eyes shifting between the two.

“Oh, well, I’m just here to tell you the cake is ready … I think.” She pointed a hoof towards the kitchen, smiling.

I craned my neck to look towards the door. “Ooo, fantastic.

“Oh, yeah, it’s really fantastic. Pinkie had me working fer two hours on that frosting,” Applejack grumbled, before smirking at her cider mug.

“You helped?”

She nodded at Fluttershy then me. “We all did. Even Pinkie Pie needs help with a party sometimes.” 

“Cake time!” Pinkie barged in pushing a seven tier cake with candles shoved into every available inch of space. The cake swayed uncontrollably, each tier resembling part of the Manehattan skyline. I analysed the intricate detail, from the buildings concocted from frosting to the mini, eatable ponies wandering around their delectable metropolis. Perched on the highest building was a white unicorn ornament, which I presumed was me.

Spike shuffled over to my side, as I read the pink frosting that spelled out “Bye-Bye Rarity!” Pinkie could have at least picked a more appropriate goodbye message.

“Rarity, do you like it? I-I put the statue on the top. Did you see?” he babbled, digging at the wood-paneled floor with a foot. I loved how he was so cute around me. However, now he would be treasuring each second I was in his presence. It was hard enough that I couldn’t return his feelings, but abandoning him as well. Oh, I could only imagine how his poor little heart was breaking.

“Why yes, Spike. It is simply lovely,” I purred, before leaning to kiss his sweet, scaly head. “Thank you.”

“I-I … ugh --”

“Blow out the candles. Blow out the candles!” Pinkie screamed, reaching to light a huge, red sparkler next to my mini statue.

Twilight stepped forward, extinguisher at the ready. “Pinkie are you sure this is –”

“WEE!” The party mare jumped, lighting the wick with a match in her mouth. There was an almighty hiss, as the spark trailed down into the bowels of the confection. 

Applejack grabbed my side with both hooves. “I’d move back if I were you,” she whispered gently in my ear. I obeyed like cattle, and shuffled back.

I gawked over my shoulder at her, dumbfounded. “What’s going to happen?”

She continued to speak in hushed tones, sending a chill up my spine. “I ain’t gotta clue.”

The hiss stopped and I prepared for the worst. Great, Pinkie was going to blow me up. Now I would never set hoof in Manehattan. There was small flicker of sparks, before the larger candle sunk down into the right side of the cake, now slightly melted. We all stopped recoiling to glance at the minimalistic display. 

“Is that it?” Rainbow barked, floating above me.

Twilight threw down the extinguisher in disgust. “For pony’s sake, Pinkie. I took fire precautions for nothing!”

“No! My baby, she’s melting!” Pinkie wailed, trying to fix her frosting covered bomb.  

I barely had time to roll my eyes, when the cake erupted in bright, shining sparks, which floated down softly. The many candles became illuminated by the small embers, all giving off a warm, orange glow.

“It worked. It worked,” Pinkie announced, some of her mane slightly singed. There was a collective cheer as the final flashes and sparks faded. “Go blow out the candles, Rarity!”

Pinkie had worked really hard on this party. Sure, the decorations were tacky and there were about ten noticeable colour clashes, but I didn’t mind. I was just welling up thinking about how this could be my last Sugarcube Corner party.

“I know, why don’t we do it together?” I suggested. “There are quite a lot after all.”   

The group trotted over, each taking a side of the cake. “187 to be precise!” Pinkie hopped next to Twilight, beaming at me. Rainbow hovered overhead, waiting to flap a breeze at the higher candles.

“Alright,” Spike said, climbing on Twilight’s back. The alicorn nodded to her assistant, as I waited for the signal.

“Okay, ready … one,” Twilight began. I could tell she was eager to rid the bakery of the rolling fire hazard. Just as I was admiring the carefully crafted tiers, I spotted Applejack opposite me through a gap in the towers.

“Two …” She smirked at me, not looking away. At least, that’s what I was sure she was doing. My vision was blurry with the towers fading in the foreground, while the earth pony became clearer to the eye. I then realised that I was definitely not going to look away either. What was she doing? Or the better question, what was I doing? For a second I felt time slow down. Either that or the sparkler fumes were making me dizzy.   

“Three!” My heart lurched rather abruptly, like when you trot down stairs and miss a step. It only lasted a heartbeat, but I was positive I’d skipped one.

“Rarity.”

I shook my head, tearing myself away to glance at Spike. “Huh, ugh?”

“Three, you gotta blow some out,” he said, pointing at some candles in front of me still alight. I breathed on them as ladylike as possible, as everypony cheered and stomped. I stared at the cake wide-eyed. My mind went blank.





“Bye, Cloudchaser. Bye, Bon Bon. Bye …” Pinkie continued to shout into the street.

“Please say we’ll see you before you leave?” Twilight asked, a little worried. The six of us made our way to the door, where Pinkie was bouncing.

“Oh, of course. Tomorrow I’ll just be packing the last of my things. Don’t you worry, Twilight,” I explained, wrapping my scarf with a wave of magic.

“Oh, thank goodness,” uttered Fluttershy, who floated outside with Rainbow. I followed, shivering at the perishing cold. There was a light covering of snow and the sky was a clear, blue haze. We congregated at the bottom of the stairs.

Pinkie leaned on the doorframe, grinning down at us all. “See you guys later!”

Each mare and dragon turned to go their separate ways down the street. “Bye!” we all called out in our own time. I groaned, trying not to look back. Each step away we all moved was tearing at my heart. In that moment, I’m sure they were all feeling the exact same.

“Hey, Applejack,” Pinkie yelled, bringing a hoof to her muzzle. “You know, it’s exactly 18 seconds faster to Sweet Apple Acres if you go that-away.”

What where those crazy fillies talking about? While walking, I glanced back towards the bakery. Pinkie was pointing in my direction, with a huge, suspicious grin plastered to her face. I looked forward at the stone cobbles, barely able to hear.

“Ugh ... thanks fer the tip, Pinkie,” Applejack mumbled, sounding as confused as I was.

“Oh, no, it’s my pleasure,” The party mare purred, before I heard a door slam.

I slowed down slightly, as clops of cantering hooves approached. “Rare, hold up,” Applejack called for me, trotting at my side. While I stared at the earth pony in confusion, she gave a weak grin.

“Pinkie said this way’s faster or somethin’. I donno what goes on in that noggin’ o’ hers.” We continued down the middle of the street. Not a soul was around at this hour. I did enjoy Ponyville at night, as it was always so peaceful.

“I doubt anypony knows,” I breathed, trying my best to stay warm. We stayed quiet just appreciating each other’s silence. I thought of asking about earlier at the party, about the cake. However, it was a terrible idea. She would just say it was nothing, and I completely agreed. But, it was at the very forefront of my mind.

“Ugh … you know,” she began, as we neared the boutique, “if y-ya need a hoof packin’ tomorrow … I’m free. Just –”

“You are?” We stopped at the crossroads.

She nodded enthusiastically, adjusting her Stetson. “Yeah, sugarcube. It’s Big Mac’s turn t’ mind the market stall.”

Admiring the stars for a second, I laughed quietly. “I’ll see you at 11 o’ clock then?” I said, before gazing into her bright eyes.

She shifted on the spot. “Ah, well, if that’s –”

“So, is that a yes?” I raised my eyebrow, obviously just teasing her. I loved to tease her.

“Yes, ma’am,” she chirped, giving a mocking salute. We laughed for a wonderful moment, before turning to leave.

I trotted away, wearing the biggest grin. I looked like a filly on their birthday. For somepony who was leaving her hometown and all her friends in two days, I wasn’t feeling that bad. I couldn’t understand it.  

“Oh, and Rarity!” I turned towards her voice, just a small tone being carried on the wind.

I called back as best I could. “Yes?”

“I’ll bring you an apple martini!” 

> Chapter Seven: The Thin Line between Love and Hate
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Seven – The Thin Line between Love and Hate








Ten Hours and Fifty Five Minutes Later 







I gave a swift glance at the clock. It was 10.55 am. She would be here soon. Bringing a hoof to my muzzle, I tried to suppress a yawn.

I hadn’t slept a wink the night before. The thought of my appearance exposing my fatigue was horrifying. However, I must admit, for a mare with a tendency to stay up until the early hours working on projects, I’d learnt to hide my tiredness very well. Make-up does wonders for covering up one’s occasional baggy eyes.   

Today, however, was very different. When I would usually stay up all night to finish a dress, at least the morning after, I would have an overpowering sense of achievement. But, when that said tiredness was due to an inability to sleep, I didn’t know what to feel. I had just laid awake all night, watching the ceiling intently, thinking. I would have liked to consider it a deep, meaningful trail of thought. However, it was quite the opposite. It was a singular thought, just one. 

Was this the right thing to do? 

I had finally reached a point in my life, one which I had only envisioned in my wildest childhood dreams, only to question it. Was moving to Manehattan what I wanted? I was pretty sure it was, but nothing could rid me of a small, niggling feeling. It continued to hack at the back of my mind, insisting I should reconsider my position on the situation. Anytime it became too prevalent, a quick shake of the head would usually discard the annoyance. But, it always managed to wriggle its way back.
  
Three, slow, heavy raps echoed against the front door to the boutique. Only one pony could have such a boisterous knock. I sighed contently, trotting over to the door. The shop doorbell chimed sweetly.

“Howdy, Rarity.” Applejack smiled, tipping her hat. 

“Good morning, darling,” I spoke timidly, allowing the farmer inside. She stabbed her hooves into the welcome mat, brushing them clean. If she hadn’t done so, I would have certainly commented on her lack of common courtesy. She knew me too well.

“Good mornin’ my flank! It’s blowin’ a gale out there,” she complained, slipping off her saddlebags and shaking the excess snow from her coat. Her cheeks were flushed from being peppered with sleet. I pulled back the curtains, peaking out the window. 

“It most certainly is.” I nodded, gazing out at the swirling winds of white. Only Applejack would be so stubborn to travel out in this storm.

I moaned, turning back to the earth pony. “You know you didn’t have to walk all the way across town in this weather.” 

She laughed, poking a hoof around in her saddlebags. “It’s alright, sugercube. I promised to help ya pack anyways.” She produced a strange shaped bottle from the bag, placing it down carefully. “There ya go, some martini mix courtesy of Sweet Apple Acres.” 

I floated the bottle over to inspect the label. “Oh, Applejack, you didn’t have to do this.” 

“Ugh, well, consider it a leavin’ gift then,” she said, turning away from me. 

I frowned. “Oh, yes … thank you.” I didn’t have the strength to think about tomorrow just yet. All I could do was try and forget about it for now. 

“W-why,” I began, scuffing my hooves against the tiled floor. “Why don’t we have a glass?”

She gave a goofy yet playful smirk, as I stood there awaiting her answer. “Ugh, gee, Rare, it’s a little early t’ be hitting the hard stuff,” the earth pony spoke, raising an eyebrow towards the clock, “but … I’ll bite.”

I breathed heavily, relieved she hadn’t found the notion inappropriate. “Oh, g-great!” Our hooves clacked as Applejack accompanied me to the kitchen. “We are … celebrating after all.” 

I groaned to myself knowing how pitiful of an excuse it was to start drinking. It was becoming a bad habit of mine over the past few weeks. How pathetic. After pouring us two glasses, I pressed a stopper in the bottle top.

“Enjoy.”

“Cheers,” Applejack said, nodding approvingly before taking a sip. “So … whatcha got left t’ pack? I can drink and work at the same time.” She winked at me, leaning against the counter. 

I could feel my brain scrambling for an answer. “I, ugh …”

“T’ be honest, Rare, looks like ya done most of the work already.” She gave a confused expression, while scanning the barren kitchen. 

It was true, the whole house was barren, and it looked like it had been ransacked. Only boxes and bare walls surrounded us. Nopony would have guessed that it had housed many a dress and fashion show in its earlier life.  

“Being honest, Applejack, I have,” I whispered, placing my glass down. 

“Huh, then w-why did ya invite me over, if there’s nothin’ t’ pack?” She raised an eyebrow at me, scratching her mane. I blushed, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

“Well, there is one thing.” I frowned, before leading the farmer to the changing room in the front room. She fell in line behind me, staring deep in thought. The rail curtain lit up in a blue aura, as I swept it aside with magic. The changing room was dark and musky, inside only a purple, gem encrusted chest.  

I pointed a hoof at it, looking to my companion. “There.”

“This here chest?” Applejack said, walking inside to take a closer look. The lid creaked as she peeked inside. 

“Yes. I-I …” My mouth felt dry as I struggled to talk. “I can’t seem to conjure up the strength to pack those away. I thought maybe, maybe you could do it for me?” 

Applejack tried to look at me reassuringly, but I could tell she had something on her mind. She coughed nervously, clearing her throat. “Ugh, Rare, I don’t mean t’ be rude, but … this here is jus’ a pile o’ junk.”  

Her blunt honesty made me chuckle. She was never one for sugar-coating things. However, it was more the fact that she was absolutely right; to many a pony the contents of that chest was indeed a ‘pile of junk’. 

“It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?” I shuffled over to the farmer, we both now looking inside. The assortment of clutter brought a filly-like smile to my muzzle. 

“Is this some kinda trick? Cos’ I don’t get it,” Applejack said, unsure of my intentions. 

I levitated the chest up, trotting back into the boutique. “Oh, heavens, no. Why don’t I explain?” 

Applejack followed gingerly. My magic began lifting the items inside onto the floor, while I sat down on my chaise longue. I placed them all down gently, spreading them about the floor. Applejack smiled when I beckoned her over. 

“Sit,” I said, patting at the red fabric beside me with a hoof. She nodded, before accompanying me. “This ‘pile of junk’ is my memoirs I’ve collected over the years from Ponyville.”

Applejack gulped, looking at the floor. “Gee, I’m mighty sorry. I didn’t realise —”

“Oh, it’s alright, darling. These items just have more of a sentimental value than an actual value.” I was lucky if items would amount to anywhere near five bits, had I decided to sell them.

“Alrighty then.” The earth pony looked about the items, still listening intently. “So, why do I have to pack them again?”

I coughed, leaning back. “There’s too many memories here, Applejack. If I hide them away in a box, I feel like I’m packing away the memories as well.” 

Applejack turned to look at me, her nose scrunched up in thought. “But ain’t ya just movin’ them t’ ya new place? Just unpack em’ there.” 

I could see her point. There wasn’t much logic behind my dilemma. My stomach churned, groaning through my flesh. My heart felt like a stone in an endless abyss of deep water. 

“I’m scared,” I breathed. 

While I moped at the floor, Applejack continued to stare, silent. I could imagine the words sinking into the farmer’s brain. “Of what, leaving?” 

I smiled, weakly. “Yes, terrified actually.”   
        
She gave a hearty laugh. “No offence, Rarity, but if ya can live in Canterlot, ya can live anywhere. And Canterlot is a crazy place t’ live.” 

“I didn’t ‘live’ there, though,” I moaned. “I went to university there, that’s different.” 

A warm hoof wrapped around my shoulder. I was surprised, but didn’t move away. “Ya gonna be fine.” 

I blinked the moisture in my eyes away as best I could. Applejack always knew how to make me feel better. She never had to try hard to comfort ponies. With a single utterance, you would feel lifted by that sweet, earthy twang. I murmured in agreement, my eyes not leaving the floor. Applejack’s coat brushed against mine when she leaned across, reaching for something. My chest heaved slightly, as I looked off in another direction. 

“What this?” she asked, grabbing a thick, purple folder beside me. Her sudden divergence off topic made me roll my eyes. 

I waved a hoof over the folder. “Open it.”   

The earth pony obeyed, flicking open the cover. A collection of dust floated around us, before settling slowly. 

Applejack smirked, turning towards me. “A photo album?”    

“A photo album of Ponyville,” I corrected. 

“Oh, right – hey, this one’s of the Summer Sun Celebration,” she said, shuffling closer to me. I peered at the album, despite knowing the photo to which Applejack was referring.

The bright sun was beaming down onto the patch of green outside town hall. Each pony was squeezed into a tight huddle, trying to get in the shot. Twilight and Spike stood beaming in the centre. On the right, Pinkie looked as if Rainbow Dash had cracked a joke or prank just before the flash went off. Applejack and I were on the left, a hoof around one another, smiling brightly. 

“Yes, I do love that one.” 

“Me too,” she said, turning the page. “And this one!” Applejack laughed, pointing to picture of a cider-guzzling Rainbow Dash during cider season. I giggled, remembering how Fluttershy had helped the pegasus fly home that day. 

“Ya remember when we had t’ ‘disaster-proof’ Ponyville?” Applejack laughed harder, poking a hoof into my side. I remembered, like only yesterday. There wasn’t a memory, good or bad, from my time in Ponyville that I truly wanted to forget. 

“Oh, yes, and you and I had to tend to the dam. Twilight is so such a worrier!” My chest relaxed, and I sighed deeply. My mind had truly been thrown off course.

Applejack closed the album, turning eagerly to face me. “Oh, gee, yeah! Ya not remember when she didn’t write the Princess a friendship report? That was worse!” 

“No, no, not as bad as when you decided to pick all the apples in Sweet Apple Acres!” I snorted a laugh. Applejack groaned, hitting me playfully. 

“Coming from the mare who turned all the streets gold!”

“What,” I retorted, flicking my mane, “it wasn’t my fault. Besides, even if it had been, I consider it an improvement.” 

“An improvement, like that vintage brooch you wanted from The Traders Exchange?” Applejack spoke, her tone dripping with sarcasm. 

I scowled at the earth pony. “Yes, it was improvement! Unlike that ghastly pie tin you wanted, which was anything but an enhancement to Equestria.”

“Hey!” Applejack shoved into my side again. “Ya know … I always wonder how we get along so well.”

My cheeks turned an alarming shade of red. “I-I know. Opposites attract, I suppose.” 

I bit down on my tongue. Had I really just said that? My behaviour was becoming progressively more idiotic and weird by the second. Judging by my companion’s piercing stare, Applejack had also noticed this change in personality. I glanced at the floor, my mouth dry like sandpaper.

“We sure as sugar are,” Applejack answered, awkwardly. I welcomed the unsettling silence between us. It gave me a brief moment to remember how terribly anxious I was. My method of simply trying to forget the matter was far from effective. 

Applejack proceeded to inspect the memoirs scattered around the sofa. I stared at her, not in a strange, disturbing way, but softly. How did a pony like me come to have such amazing friends? Applejack – she was amazing. I didn’t like to admit it, at least not aloud, but she was so caring. She hadn’t given a second thought about trudging through a blizzard to my aid. Of all the ponies in Equestria, she wanted to help me! 

Why? 

Over the last month all we had done was argue. It was tragic, because afterward she would give me this remorseful glare. Watery and focused, her gaze would meet mine in what I could describe as dreamlike. It broke my heart. No matter who started our arguments, it was me who felt the crush of guilt in the end.

“Applejack,” I said, mustering a small smile.

She fumbled with my 2nd place Sisterhooves Social medal. “Huh, yeah?” 

“There’s an empty box over there.” I pointed across the boutique. “You can pack them all way in that.” 

I got up and wandered over to the only remaining shelf covered in clutter. Applejack nodded humbly, before attending to her assigned task. We both fell silent. 
While sorting some threads into a box, I listening to Applejack pack my memoirs. Her rowdy clangs and clatters echoed around the boutique, reminding me how it was nothing more than a hollow shell. I noticed the earth pony stop, while I continued to pack. 

From out the corner of my eye, I saw she was holding the album. She was looking at that same picture from earlier, the one taken outside town hall. The book was a precious memoir, and I could understand her curiosity to peruse through it further. I’d never shown it to anypony before. It deserved to be admired by fresh eyes. So, why not by a pony featured within many of its pages? 

She huffed loudly. There was a heavy clunk, when she threw the book down into the box. Could she be less boisterous, maybe?  

“Rarity,” she muttered. I continued to face the shelf, eyeing up a nice spool of gold thread I wanted to keep. Hopefully, she hadn’t spotted me watching her. 

“Yes, darling.”

She sighed heavily. “Don’t ya feel bad?”

I frowned at my box of threads. “Whatever do you mean?” 

Her agitated movements, combined with the sudden unsettling silence, made my coat tingle. Oh, no, what had I done now? I itched at my neck, while averting my eye to the floor. 

“Feel bad fer leaving Ponyville,” the farmer said sternly. Her gaze was like a crushing weight upon me. 

“U-ugh, well, of course I feel bad.” A tear tried to escape from my left eye, but I captured it swiftly with a hoof. “Well, to some extent.”

Applejack groaned, stepping away from her packing duties. “Whatcha mean ‘t’ some extent’?” 

“I just mean, I am really happy to leaving also.” My smile didn’t waver the farmer, as she continued to glare at me. 

“Yeah,” she mumbled, sulking.  

“I get a new life in a new city, with a new job, new home, new experiences –”

“New friends,” she spoke, her tone dryer than a Dodge Junction tumbleweed. I winced. 

The farmer’s sudden interrogation was charging at me full throttle, despite my attempt to take the reins. Why was she mad? I could only assume she was, judging by the piercing scowl. 

“P-perhaps.”       

“Oh, I understand.” She groaned, turning her back on me. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I spoke, the intonation raising in my voice. Of all the time to have this conversation, Applejack had to choose this inopportune moment. Why was she on my back? I was starting to think she just enjoyed taking my emotions for a ride. 

“Nothin,” she said, trying to end the conversation. 

I stomped a hoof. “What is it, tell me?”

She snapped back, “No, Rarity. It don’t matter!” I furrowed a brow. The earth pony keeping her attention on packing the cardboard box.

What in Equestria was wrong now? Something was definitely on the mare’s mind, and I was going to find out. “Yes, it does. Tell me the truth,” I said, as comforting as I could muster.     

Applejack stopped, speaking from over her shoulder. “Nothin’ … I jus’ knew this was gonna happen.” Her tone lathered with frustration.  

“What was going to happen?” I gave a snort, trying my best to understand.    

“Ya leavin’,” she spat, spinning to face me. I didn’t expect the sudden explosion of anger and volume. “Ya abandonin’ us!” 

My chest heaved. I couldn’t breathe. What! How could she even say that? The silence loomed over us, the tension making me want to run away. I couldn’t deal with this pressure – not now. I didn’t think my self an angry pony – but that Applejack – she always brought it out of me. It was almost like the pang in my heart coincided with obliteration of my patience. 

“Abandoning! How can you – I can’t believe you!” There was a vulgar bang, as I slammed the box down on a workbench, my coat prickling. 

The earth pony bared her teeth, practically timberwolf like. “It’s the truth, ain’t it?”  

“The truth? You of all ponies would know that it hurts.” I jabbed a hoof in her direction. “Stop wielding your honesty like some kind of weapon!”

“Watcha talkin’ about? I’m just sayin’ what everypony is thinkin’.” Applejack marched at me, seething. I didn’t move. 

“Well don’t! For once, can you just smile and nod, instead of complicating everything?” That stupid mare and her honesty. Could she not keep her muzzle shut? Ironically, this was something I was finding a very difficult task myself. 

“Celestia’s sake. For somepony suppose t’ be generous … ya sure are selfish!” she barked. 

I was practically seeing red. My stomach dropped like it was tied down with the full weight of  a hay bale. All emotions merged into an explosion of fury. “How dare you say that to me?”

I took a step forward, my legs slightly wobbling, as if I was trotting on fresh ice. Every one of my senses were overwhelmed, blanketed by my pure sense of fury. My process to conjure any reasonable trail of thought was gone. 

It was very accurate to say that, in that moment, I hated Applejack. I hated her.  

“No. I am not selfish,” I spoke, harshly, giving the farmer not a second to respond. It was my turn to talk. “I have helped everypony in this town on multiple occasions … everypony! I have sacrificed everything to make my business work.” 

Applejack didn’t move, and to my surprise, absorbed every word of my verbal attack. She just stared, adjusting her hat for brief moment. Then, she was back to listening. Not that she had much choice in the matter. I was making it very clear I wanted her to hear these words. 

I continued to shout, “I would say I’ve done a lot of generous acts and made a lot of ponies happy, whilst living in Ponyville. Don’t you think I deserve some happiness?” 

“And that is leavin’ everypony ya love behind for some childhood dream?” Applejack said, the level of resentment in her voice unwavering. 

I stomped a hooves, hard. “Yes!” I spoke, still seething. “I wouldn’t expect a pony whose dream is to pick apples on a muddy farm for the rest of her life to understand.”

Biting my tongue, I turned away in disgust. I needed a minute to compose my wrath, or I’d surely speak words I truly didn’t mean. Not that I could imagine saying anything worse, at this point. 

The earth pony stirred behind me, making the room echo her hoof steps. “I have – had dreams, Rarity. But, that don’t mean I get t’ fulfil them.”She didn’t shout, it was practically a remorseful whisper. Her voice sounded soft and forgiving. I didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t she fight back?  

“I think you should leave,” I breathed, not turning around. I couldn’t look at her.

She didn’t speak. It felt like an age, as she walked slowly towards the front door. Each step echoed louder and longer than the last. I was frozen, unable to even blink. The door hit the shop bell, making it ring gently. 

For a moment there was silence. Applejack walked out of the boutique.   

  







Sixteen Hours and Fifty-Five Minutes Later

 



Cold. Why must it be so cold? 

I buried my muzzle down into the new season, silk scarf that was wrapped so perfectly around my neck. Flakes of white continued to latch onto the pristine garment. They were small evacuees, and I was their vestal, whisking them away on far wide travels. With a breathy huff, I brushed them off. My hoof and scarf left damp and icy. I wasn’t going to let my clothes be assaulted by this beastly weather.

The train let out an almighty cloud of charcoal coloured steam. Loudly, the engine wheezed and hissed, making me jump. A dark haze swallowed the station, me along with it. Five figures appeared before though the smoke, the mist curling and dispersing around me. 

“Rarity?” a voice called out. My eyes watered from the dry air, while I squinted to see. 

I answered, clearing my throat, “I’m here.”    

The smallest figure ran out of the dark curtain, clutching a purple suitcase. “Here’s the last of your luggage.”

“Thank you, Spike.” I said, nodding appreciatively at the dragon. He placed the case at my hooves, grinning bashfully. My other friends approached, all with their lips pursed into weary, fake smiles – all except one. An orange earth pony was absent.

Where was Applejack? 

“Ooo, steamy.” Pinkie waved a hoof into the air. 

Twilight frowned at me, as if she could see my internal despair. My eyes shifted to the station floor. The pounding in my chest was unbearable, jittering each breath. I thought was going to be sick. 

“Where is she?” I spoke, hard-heartedly. Each pony exchanged fretful glances. There was a painful silence, apart from the constant flap of wings, as Rainbow hovered above.

“She was a no-show,” the blue pegasus said, bleakly. I groaned, thankful for Dash’s brutal honesty. Even though I knew exactly why Applejack hadn’t shown up.  

Fluttershy nodded. “We don’t know where she is.”

Perfect. Applejack had ran off, and it was all my fault. As if I wasn’t feeling guilty enough already. At least nopony knew why she had disappeared. 

“Yeah, we looked all over Sweet Apple Acres. You don’t know where she is do you, Rarity?” Twilight asked, before checking the time of the station clock. 

“No,” I lied. The train left in two minutes, I wouldn’t be able to talk to her in time anyways. Did I even want to talk to her? I didn’t really know.            

There was a sharp whistle blast from the other end of the platform. “All aboard!” the station conductor yelled. 

My friends stared towards me, watery-eyed. Fluttershy had already shed her tears. I was doing a good job containing mine, surprisingly. 

“Well, this is it.” Twilight sighed, stepping next to me. 

I raised a hoof. “Yes, it is.” 

The alicorn gave me a gentle hug. “Have a safe trip.”

I smiled at Twilight then at Spike, who was practically hiding between her legs. He was looking anywhere but at me. 

“Goodbye, Spikey-wikey.” I spoke, stooping down to wrap my hooves around his cute, scaly head. He buried into my coat, sniffing. 

“Bye, Rarity.” He wiped his eyes with a claw, forcing a content expression. 

Fluttershy trotted over, on the verge of bawling. I explained we could have a spa day soon in Manehattan. She sobbed hysterically, trying to croak out some audible words. From what I could fathom, she couldn’t wait to visit. 

“Bye-bye,” she breathed, before Twilight consoled her with a hoof. 

Rainbow hovered over, touching down hard. She smirked playfully, then proceeded to give me a short, strong embrace. A powerful hoof beat on my back, her hug purely athletic like. I almost lost my balance.  

“See ya, Rarity.” Rainbow Dash said, as casually as possible. As she turned away, I could see through her act to remain composed. Her eyes were coated in a moist glaze. 
I looked to my last friend, the spring gone from her step – literally. Pinkie plodded over, mumbling something I couldn’t hear. 

“Goodbye, Pin—” The pink mare tackled me in a rib-crushing hug. I could barely move, her weight pushing me into the floor. 

“Oh, our little Rarity leaving the nest,” she wailed, swinging me back and forth. “I will miss you so much!”    

My chest was being deflated like a balloon, as I spoke, “Pink-ie.” I almost collapsed in a pile, as the earth pony unlatched me from her grip. Steading myself, I stared at the mare. 

“Oh … sorry,” she chirped, stepping back to give me room. 

I gasped, clutching my breast. “It’s quite alright.”   

The baker hopped on the spot, grinning from ear to ear. I smiled in return. Pinkie’s happiness was infectious – I would miss it. I looked at the others, realising they were tending to a distraught Fluttershy. Now was my chance. 

“Pinkie,” I whispered, inching closer to the hyper mare. “Can I ask a favour of you?”

She shook her head crazily. “Yes-siree!” 

I levitated an object out from my luggage, Pinkie gawking curiously. It was a brown envelope, marked with the boutique’s seal. I slipped it discreetly in Pinkie’s direction. 

“Will you take this to –”

“Applejack?” Pinkie said, raising an eyebrow. 

I nodded, hoping that this plan would work. I didn’t want to leave Ponyville with bad blood between Applejack and I. This was the only way I could apologise, without worsening the situation. I was a coward, really.   

“Yes, Pinkie. If you can?” 

“Sure.” Pinkie whipped up the letter, stuffing it into her bubble-like mane. Celestia knew, what else she had in there. “Only … if you know where she’s hiding? She must be real good at hide and seek.” 

I groaned, speaking as quietly as I could into her ear. “I do, listen closely, and don’t tell anypony.” She nodded sternly, gesturing the pinkie swear.

“Go to Sweet Apple Acres. Near Apple Bloom’s clubhouse, on the private part of the farm. To the west, there’s a grassy hill, go over that. You’ll see an old cornfield that doesn’t get harvested much. Go straight through that cornfield, and make sure you go straight, it’s easy to get lost.”
Pinkie didn’t move, absorbing my instructions. “Keep going, and you’ll find her.” 

“You can count on me,” she said, saluting. I hopped onto the carriage step, my suitcase in tow. There was another gigantic blast of steam, as the train shuddered. I mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Pinkie.

“Goodbye, everypony!” I called down, my mane ruffling in the breeze. They all trotted to the end of the platform, waving and yelling at me. The train’s deafening whistle drowned out their goodbyes. 

I smiled contently, poking my muzzle out the side of the carriage. A tear rolled down my left cheek. Now, I could cry. Moving further and further away, I waved back at my friends, and my home, for the last time.